#i am merely starting finals next week

[dawnddoesart-reborn]

very close to beating totk for the second time! i love this silly little photo of the botw guys so here's a redraw

[sassatoru]

“Gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

This prompt for Dick having baby fever with his fem!reader after seeing her taking good care of Damian (giving him praises and cookies for example).

Please and thank you!

pairing. dick grayson x reader

warning. smut

a/n. here you go anon

prompts used. “gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

seeing you with damian was normal. the young boy saw you and dick as his paternal figures not that he’d admit it. but to see you doting over the boy. he’d ‘ran’ away from home — you’d already called bruce to tell him where damian is — and to your shared apartment.

first it started with the way you worried when he showed up at your door, a bag swung over his shoulder and his scowl set on his face.

“damian?” you stared down at the boy confused, looking around the hall way where all the other flats and the elevator could be seen.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” your confusion switched to worry almost immediately when the boy hugged you, your arms moving around him to hug him back, gently rubbing his head.

“can i stay with you and grayson?” he mumbled.

“babe? who’s at the door—” dick’s voice trailed off when he saw damian holding onto you for dear life.

“what happened?” dick asks, the worry in his eyes matching yours.

“he needs to stay over tonight,” you murmur, glancing at dick with those puppy eyes of yours that he can’t say no to. he wanted to protest, remind you that tonight is his night off and date night but his heart flutters at the way damian clings to you like a boy would to his mother.

he doesn’t have the heart to say no, merely nodding. “sure baby, he can have the spare room.”

the next time he feels that same flutter of undistinguishable wanting is when you’re making damian late dinner for him, seeing as its midnight and you and dick were planning on a little fun tonight.

the way damian sits at the dining table, finishing his homework — because even if he’s staying here and his school is in gotham he’s still gotta keep up with school — and the way you make something quick that alfred taught you to make before sending damian off to bed.

he’s all over you after that, kissing at your neck, hands slipping under your shirt, you giggle before reminding him that his little brother is in the apartment so fun time is going to have to wait.

so he waits, a week before damian finally leaves, not that dick minds having his little brother around — lies. he does mind, he minds a lot, especially when your attention is being stolen from him.

but even that didn’t stop the way his heart fluttered with every moment you doted over like a mother would, and that’s when it clicked in his mind. he wanted a baby with you.

that’s how you got here. a week later after you’d dropped damian back to the manor, and when you came home you were talking to him about how you were concerned about damian overworking on patrols but he couldn’t hear a word over the hunger buzzing in his ears.

“mhm,” he hummed, head pressed into your neck as you rambled on. “baby, baby shhhh. lets forget about them for minute.”

“dick?” you mutter confused, his hands pressing warmly against your tummy.

“yes baby?” he asks.

“what’re you doing?” you ask.

“touching you, why? am i not allowed to touch my girl?” he replies, moving you towards the bedroom. “my pretty girl, yknow that?”

you hum in response, not sure what had come over him as he gently nudges you back onto the mattress to lay down. “i was thinking, honey. about you and me… and a little someone else.”

you catch the way his eyes drop to your stomach, his pupils blown out so much that his pretty blue eyes look different. “and who’s that?” you ask, urging him on.

“our baby.”

now that does surprise you, you and dick have never talked about having kids together, you’ve barely even talked about marriage but you know enough that he seems to like the idea of both those scenarios.

“our baby?” you question and he nods, a wide smile setting on his lips as he stares down at you hungrily.

“you’d look so pretty, honey. all round and full, full of me, of us. i’d take such good care of you too.”

your cheeks flush at the way he stares at you and the way the compliments leave his lips, like pure honey.

it doesn’t take much longer till you’re both completely bare, with you all spread out under him all fucked out as he ruts against you from behind.

he wasn’t shy with his noises, whining into your ear and groaning too. whispering praises that make you purr. “aw, look at you baby, all fucked and pretty for me to use. you want me to fill you up that bad huh?”

you nod eagerly, stomach fluttering as you spasm around him, face pressed into the pillows to bury your moaning, back arched so prettily it makes him want to never stop.

“good girl, my good girl. you like the sound of being a mommy huh?” he coos, fucking into you with no mercy, mind set of giving you a baby. a part of the two of you to love.

“that’s good ‘cause i’m gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[art-by-ady]

“Let’s go get you some fresh air before we start the day shall we?” Astarion said with a smile, helping Gale into the wheelchair.

He remembered sitting in the healers office with Gale, finally getting him to go after the umpteenth time of forgetting to put the fire on the stove out. They were told his husband was in the midst of early onset dementia which would worsen due to his old age.

Gale huffed in annoyance then smiled, holding onto Astarions forearm while he settled and slipped a blanket over his legs.

“I am perfectly capable of getting in and out of a wheelchair, I’m not that old yet,” Gale teased, looking up at Astarion with nothing but love and adoration for the man.

“Of course Darling, how silly of me to dote on my husband in the prime of his life,” Astarion replied, placing his hands draped over Gales shoulders, letting him reach up to squeeze his hand before pulling away to wheel him outside.

“Now,” Astarion continued, putting the brake on and sitting next to him, the warm rays of the sun removing the cold chill from his body. ‘You never mentioned what you wanted to do today?”

“Today?” Gale scrunched his face up and looked at Astarion with confusion. “We are seeing my mother, she wanted to help pick out arrangements for our wedding next week. Don’t you remember? Tara informed us of this just last night before she flew back to mothers.”

Astarion was glad he could keep his face neutral or slip a mask on in mere seconds, not wanting to tell Gale their wedding was thirty years ago.

"Let's get you back inside then, we wouldn’t want to keep dear old Morena waiting now do we?”

“ You know how my mother is, even if we are a minute late, she will never let you hear the end of it.”

“ How right you are darling,” Astarion replied, standing back up to unlock the brake and squeeze the Gales shoulders slightly. Only to look down when he felt his husband's hand squeeze his own.

“ I am so happy to have met you Astarion,” Gale said, looking up with adoration and love in his eyes.

“ I couldn’t agree more Gale.”

✨ A special shout out to my friend Zthea @ AO3 for putting beautiful words to accompany my art

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

[writermai05]

Under the Weather

Summary: Joaquín takes care of you when you’re not feeling good. 

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x fem! reader 

A/N: This is honestly a self call out. I had (have?) the flu recently, and it fucking sucks. Take good care of yourselves guys 😭 You can imagine this as a High school Sweetheart! Reader extension fic, as it takes place when you and Joaquín are students at the University of Miami.

Word Count: 1,329

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to  anything Marvel related, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot.

Warnings !: Having the flu, reader is stressed and overworking herself. Not revised, we die like men. 

Joaquín had warned you that this would happen. You’d spent the entire semester really pushing it, working full time at the University of Miami’s  student complex, being a full time student with 15 credit hours, and being heavily involved in student organizations. It was exactly what you had wanted, and nothing was going to stop you…that is until your body started to betray you. 

You figured it was because it was almost finals week, and that if you could just last until spring break, you would finally stop feeling so shitty. Maybe if you just completed your assignments during your nine hour shifts, and if you took naps in between work and extracurriculars, you’d be fine. People do it all the time, and so could you! Like, what’s one more shift gonna do? That was, until you hit the four hour mark. Staring at the computer at your front desk, a headache began to rear its ugly head right into your temples. Before you knew it, you had tried everything. Lowering the brightness on the computer, putting on blue light glasses while you studied, anything to prevent your eyes from the harsh blue lighting of the technology you were nose deep in, as well as the bright white lights overhead to worsen the migraine you felt coming on. But hey, you only had two more hours of work left. You could do this. You toughed it out, clocking out early and scrambling back to your dorm room as fast as you could. 

The next morning, you felt even worse. You were supposed to go on a lunch date with Joaquín today, but with the way you were feeling right now? Fat chance. You shot him an apologetic text, explaining how you weren’t feeling too good, and that you’d probably have to reschedule that date. Ever the sweetheart, Joaquín had said it was no problem, and to feel better soon. Feeling an ounce of relief, you took some tylenol and went back to bed. Hopefully tomorrow was better. 

Except it wasn’t. Neither was the day after that. Not wanting to worry your boyfriend, you had told Joaquín that you were fine, just a little bit under the weather. You should have known that that would not be enough to satisfy the worries of your ever loving boyfriend. About an hour later, you heard a knock on your door. Begrudgingly, you slithered out of bed, your sinuses clogged and your head pounding and opened the door, only to be face to face with the very person you were hoping would not see you like this. 

Joaquín’s face flooded with concern the moment he heard your slow footsteps from outside your door. He had just spent the last hour getting medicine to help you feel better, but to actually see you in this state was crazy. He had just seen you on Friday before he went to the gym! You had looked fine then, tired, but everyone was tired. Finals were in two weeks. He promptly entered your studio dorm, pushing you by the shoulders gently back to your bed. He had you set on the edge while he gently cradled your face, looking you over.

“Jesus, Angel, you do not look okay.” He brushed a hand up against your forehead, trying to check your temperature. Warm but not hot. No fever. 

“Thanks, Quino, I missed you too.” You mumble back sarcastically. You couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of his hands on your face, you felt so shitty. Joaquín deadpans at you, pushing you to lay down on your bed. You oblige, not having the willpower to protest. 

“You know what I mean. You’ve been sick since Saturday, why didn’t you let me know sooner?” You shrug in response, eyes fluttering shut. You hear as he digs around in the bags he was holding, and subsequently as he presses something to your chest. You open your eyes to see a box. It’s a flu test. 

“Take that.” He says simply. He grabs the bag of things he had brought and walks over to your little kitchen area. 

As you open the box and take the test, he unloads a series of groceries and some tupperware containers, navigating your kitchen as if it were his own. He grabs a pot and pours one of the tupperware containers into the pot, turning it on and beginning to heat it up. About 10 minutes later, the test is ready and it’s confirmed; you do in fact have the flu. You walk over and show him the test, to which he hums and rubs your shoulder with his freehand. 

“Go lay down, Baby.” He murmurs.

“What are you making?” Your voice is somewhere in between congested and gravely from coughing. 

“My Mamá made caldo de pollo. She heard you weren’t feeling good, and told me to come pick this up and bring it to you.” Your heart warms at his words. You lean your head against his shoulder for a moment. 

“She is an angel on earth.” You mumble. He squeezes your hip gently before patting your side, reminding you to go rest.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just need to heat it up for you.” You nod, and go back to bed, laying down while he gets it ready. 

Once that finishes he brings it back to you, placing it in your lap with a kitchen towel so that it doesn’t burn your lap. You mumbles a thank you and takes a sip of it, singing in relief when the hot liquid goes down your sore throat. Joaquín pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“What happened? You were fine when I saw you last.” 

“I don’t know. Had a headache before I finished work on Friday, and I was a little congested but I thought it was allergies. Then I woke up on Saturday feeling awful.”

“You mean during your double?” He raises an eyebrow, continuing to stroke your hair gently. 

“Yeah-”

“On top of everything else? The assignments for class and such? I thought you were like, super stressed on Thursday.”

“I mean-”

“Baby, don’t you think that maybe your stress is playing a bigger part in you getting sick?” He asks gently.

“Maybe. But it’s almost finals week, that’s normal.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing this for like, the entire semester already. You just get so focused on everyone and everything else that you neglect everything else, and since you’re so stressed, your immune system is weak, and you get sick, basically forcing you to stop for a while.” You sigh. You know that he’s right, but you’re stubborn. 

“I can’t just stop. Nothing’s gonna stop for me. My assignments are going to keep piling up whether I'm sick or not, so I have no choice but to keep going.” He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him as he speaks. 

“Maybe. But you can email your manager and professors and let them know, ‘hey, I’m sick, I can’t come in.’ or ‘I have the flu, my assignments are gonna be turned in late.’ They’ll understand. I promise you, it’s not that serious. Everything will be fine. They’ll find a way to get it covered for you.” You sigh, but nod in reluctant agreement. He presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Good. Give me your laptop, I'll email them for you. Have you left your room yet?”

“...No.” 

“...We can go on a walk later. I bought you a couple things from the pharmacy.” He grabs the bag from the kitchen, pulling out the various medicines.

“Cough drops, Tylenol in case you have a fever, nasal decongestant, Nyquil to help you sleep, Theraflu-” 

“Buy me the whole pharmacy, why don’t you?” You joke, continuing to drink the soup. Joaquín chuckles, putting the bag on the floor.

“For you? Of course I would.” Your face felt warm, and no—it wasn’t just the soup or the flu.

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 ♡

akaashi keiji x f!reader

you and your boyfriend are no strangers to overthinking — so when your period doesn't arrive on time, you take turns calming each other down.

"I'm late." Akaashi lifted his head from the manuscript he was editing, his glasses strewn haphazardly across his face. You were standing in the threshold of your shared study, having just returned from your second anxiety-induced bathroom break of the night.

Your boyfriend of five years turned in his creaky swivel chair to face the calendar tacked on the leftmost wall of the room, littered in neon post-it notes and defaced by both of your penmanships — Akaashi's short and slanted, yours perfectly proportioned.

Ever the editor, he said, "But I thought your draft wasn't due until next week." Being a romance author and dating a literary editor certainly had its perks, but in this moment, you couldn't decide whether to feel distressed or endeared by his misinterpretation. You took a deep breath and tried again.

"...not that kind of late."

It took him a second to understand. But when he finally did, the brain fog immediately cleared from his eyes.

"Oh — oh," he said, setting down his red pen and standing from his desk. "You're absolutely sure?"

You nodded. "Three days, to be exact."

Ever since you and Akaashi had started dating your senior year of college, you had been tracking your periods in hopes of preventing an unplanned pregnancy. You were both open to having kids — after all, you two were arguably the most responsible ones in your friend group, and baby fever passed between the two of you as easily as the common cold. But neither of you expected to have a child this early into your careers, and the mere idea was enough to make you feel queasy.

"Hey, hey," Akaashi interjected gently, reading the expression on your face like an open book. He walked around his cluttered desk and pulled you into his arms. "It's okay. I know we both have a tendency to overthink —"

"A great trait to pass onto a baby," you volleyed back.

"But if you really are pregnant, we would handle it," he continued, however amused by your quit wit. He tucked your head beneath his chin. "We'd ask all the right questions, read all the right parenting books. I'll hold your hand when your get your blood drawn, even though it makes me want to collapse."

Despite yourself, you chuckled at that.

"Besides," he added. "We practically raise Bokuto together already."

You were laughing even harder now, the waves of anxiety flooding your chest now subsiding, if only for a moment. Akaashi was the only one capable of doing that.

"Ugh," you cried, pulling away from him to massage your tired eyes. "How did this even happen?"

"I think you know perfectly well how this happened."

"Of course, I know," you drawled. "But we had a plan. A well-thought-out, career-oriented plan. You would go to grad school, I would publish a few more novels —"

"All of which we can still do if we become parents," Akaashi replied, taking both of your hands into his. "Y/N, I am well-aware of the fact that we both love planning our lives to a tee. In fact, your thoughtfulness and attention-to-detail are what I love most about you."

Your face flushed at his affectionate words.

"But maybe it would save us both the mental energy to let life surprise us every once in a while," he finished.

"With a baby?"

"With anything! Including the possibility of a baby." He pushed your hair of our of face and looked at you in sheer adoration. "I love you, Y/N. There is no other person I'd want to become a parent with. So while an unplanned pregnancy sounds daunting, I will be right there with you. We'd figure it out. Together."

Perhaps it was the steady confidence in his eyes — or the potential pregnancy hormones coursing through your bloodstream, but you started to cry. Taken aback, Akaashi immediately took you back into his arms.

"D-Did I say something wrong?" he stammered. You shook your head against his chest as you wept.

"No. No, you said everything right," you reassured him. "God, if this actually happens, Keiji, you're going to be an incredible parent."

Now it was his turn to get emotional.

You turned off the lamps at your respective desks and headed to the pharmacy two blocks away from your apartment, the sidewalks bustling with native bar-hoppers and starry-eyed tourists. You'd both walked this path several times before and had always returned with a bundle of items: Red Bull, microwave popcorn, the occasional pack of condoms. But never a pregnancy test. "Is there a specific brand that gives you the most accurate results?" Akaashi asked, immediately pulling out his phone to do some research in the middle of the family planning aisle. "It says here that digital pregnancy tests are generally considered more accurate, but you can get a pack of three analog tests for nearly half the price..."

He paced up-and-down the rows of tests, comparing and cross-referencing them like he did each of his authors' drafts.

"I mean, why don't we just buy them all? It can't hurt to cover all the bases," he murmured, grabbing one of each brand from the shelf and dumping them into your open arms.

"Keiji," you laughed, amused by how serious he was about all of this. "Don't you think we're being a little hasty?"

"You're right," your boyfriend said, shaking his head. "I haven't even checked the expiration dates on any of these — "

"No, that's not what I meant," you repeated firmly, meeting his frazzled gaze with your now-steady one. "I think we should buy only one pack. Your pick."

He looked at you as if you'd just suggested he dive off a steep cliff. "Are you sure?" "Yes," you promised him. "I don't even think I have enough pee for all the pregnancy tests I'm holding right now." His shoulders slumped from the steep drop in adrenaline, and he pressed his lips into a tight, nervous line before admitting, "I just want to make sure I'm doing everything right." "You already are," you reassured him, shifting all of the pregnancy tests over to one arm and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with the other. "You don't need to overthink whether or not you're doing a great job, because you are. I wouldn't have let you possibly impregnate me if you weren't."

He released a shaky sigh, a sheepish smile on his face as he asked, "Can I still consult Google reviews?"

After finally selecting a pregnancy test and a pint of ice cream to share, you and Akaashi paid for your items and walked back to your apartment arm-in-arm.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asked, the sounds of the city rumbling between you as you walked.

"Of course I remember. I wanted the last desk in the front row of our senior writing seminar, but someone got there before me," you said teasingly. "Though I think it was for the best. I developed a crush on the back of your head almost instantly."

"You did not."

"I'm not even kidding. I'm pretty sure I based all of my fictional love interests on you that year."

"That I picked up on."

"You did not."

He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I had to ask Bokuto to read your stories because I thought I was insanely self-absorbed for suspecting you'd base any character off of me. I'd never had anyone describe me so accurately. So...deeply," he confessed. "I was flattered. Truly."

You couldn't help the blush creeping up your neck. "I guess that's what I get, asking my crush to peer-review my work."

He bent down to press his lips to your temple. "I'm glad you did."

You climbed the stairs back to your apartment and unlocked the door, the small space crowded by stacks of books and half-empty mugs. You imagined what it would be like to rearrange the furniture to make room for a crib, what it would be like for you and Akaashi to read to your baby all the books you'd loved as children. The mere idea was enough to make your eyes well up again.

God, you thought to yourself, tearing open the box of pregnancy tests and inspecting the thick packet of instructions. Would you actually be disappointed if this test came back negative?

"I'll be right here if you need me," Akaashi said, gesturing to the couch. You nodded, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.

After five minutes of working yourself up to peeing on the stick and another two of actually doing it, you ushered your boyfriend back into the bathroom. You'd placed the test face-down beside the sink, not wanting to know the results without him. Your heart hammered violently as you considered this piece of plastic's inane ability to tell your entire future in just a few measly lines.

"Hey," Akaashi reassured you for the millionth time that night, intertwining your hand in his. "No matter the outcome, I've got you."

"I know." You nodded. "I've got you, too."

His expression softened. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you said, and you meant it. After all, Akaashi Keiji had spent the past five years holding your heart with more patience and consideration you ever thought you deserved, and you had dedicated yourself fully to doing the same for him. You took care of each other amidst all anxieties. That alone was enough to assure you that, whatever the future held, you would be just fine.

Squeezing each other's hand one last time, you took a deep breath, reached for the pregnancy test, and turned it over. @miyasmagnolias, 2025

[bosbas]

Chapter 6: oh, my, love is a lie

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, dual pov so it might be confusing sorryyyyy

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

A/N: sorry this is a shorter one but it made more sense to divide it up this way! already working on the next chapter so dw <3

July 8, 1812 - “I beg your pardon?”

Daphne paled. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean-“ she started, choking up immediately. “It’s not-”

“I. Beg. Your. Pardon?” asked Anthony again, his voice steely.

“It’s not like that anymore though, I swear!” cried Daphne, desperate to fix this. “She’s definitely in love with you!”

“She told you this?”

“Well… not exactly,” Daphne finished lamely, not quite sure what to do in this situation. Lying would have probably made it worse at this point, and Daphne wasn’t entirely sure that you’d come to understand your feelings yet.

Shaking his head, Anthony turned to leave the room. “I must go,” he said forcefully, the ire evident in his voice.

---

You stood up as a smile uncontrollably made its way to your lips as you heard the door to your sunroom open, but it dropped just as quickly when you saw that Anthony was furious.

He didn't even bother to greet you as was dictated by social norms. He just stood in the room, breathing heavily and glaring at you as you stood across from him.

“Is it true?” he asked finally, poison dripping from his voice.

You offered him only a perplexed look, not entirely sure what he was referring to but having an excellent idea.

“What Daphne just told me. That you were never interested in me,” he continued, his eyes two angry slits as he stared you down menacingly.

“No, that’s not exactly-”

“So she was lying, then. You didn’t start courting me just to help her find a match,” he said, his voice softening just the tiniest bit.

Your face felt hot, and in fact, the whole room felt far too hot. You looked at Anthony uncomfortably as he waited for your answer.

“No, she wasn’t lying,” you said finally, sounding defeated. “I- I’m so sorry, Anthony. But you have to know I never meant for it to go this far, I just so caught up and I- I just didn’t…” you cut yourself off, too emotional to continue speaking.

Tears rolled freely down your cheeks as you asked yourself, how had everything gotten so messed up? A mere twelve hours ago you were in his arms, having just had the most magical night of your life.

Anthony could only blink at you as he felt his heart drop. He should’ve known this was too good to be true. Of course you weren’t truly interested in him. He didn’t know why he was so surprised.

He supposed he had to hate you now. No one had ever hurt him in this manner, mostly because he hadn’t ever let anyone in as much as he had with you.

But he was still a Bridgerton. And Bridgertons acted with honor. There was a chance you were pregnant, and he was not about to leave you stranded when you were in such a precarious societal position.

Anthony swallowed roughly, trying to gather the courage to speak as though he was unbothered. “Very well, then. I suppose not much can be done about that now. I will speak to your father at once and we can get married next week.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What on earth was he on about? “You can’t marry me,” you said firmly.

He couldn’t. You couldn’t do that to him. You had already hurt him enough.

Anthony sighed in annoyance. “Yes, I can. I will marry you because I am an honorable man. Not for any singular other reason. My reputation is-”

You scoffed, “Oh, what reputation, Anthony? Everyone already thinks you’re the biggest rake in the ton. No one would be surprised by one more conquest, so why are you so insistent that we marry?”

So this is what you truly thought of him, thought Anthony. It was no wonder you didn't feel the same for him as he did for you.

“Because I have respect for you!" he shot back. “Though I can see you have none for me. But that is just fine. I never asked for it, and I don’t need it. All I need is for my family to remain in good standing and for your hand in marriage.”

“I will do no such thing,” you said, scandalized.

“But what if you are with child?” Anthony replied, growing more and more exasperated.

“I am not with child.”

“You cannot possibly know that!”

“I can hope.”

Anthony’s jaw dropped. “How can you say that? After everything we went through?”

Sure, he had never felt pain this intensely in his life. And sure, it was your fault. But he was still shocked that you could wish for such a thing. This only further confirmed his fears that what he felt for you was wildly disproportionate to what you felt for him.

You sniffed, “Look where we are now, Anthony. You hate—me and rightfully so, might I add. So no, I do not wish to have a child with a man who despises me. It’s quite simple really.”

More than that, you didn't think you deserved to marry someone so kind. Someone so loving and perfect. And because you loved Anthony so much you would have rather seen him with someone who hadn't started a courtship with him as a ploy than have him end up with you.

“But you will be ruined!” he pressed.

“Then so be it,” you said decidedly, your voice wavering slightly.

But Anthony was having none of it. It was bad enough that you had completely shattered his heart, you were extremely stubborn when he was trying to do the right thing.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/N. If you will not do it for me or yourself at least do it for my family. For yours.”

“You know my father does not care what I do,” you started, but you knew it was a lost battle. Anthony was right. The Bridgerton family would surely suffer if you had his child out of wedlock, and that was the last thing you wanted. You had harmed them enough already.

But you weren’t ready to completely give up just yet.

“Very well,” you relented. “I see your point, but my courses are due next week. We can put off the proposal by a week, surely?”

Anthony pinched his nose, feeling a headache of annoyance coming on. Why did he have to fall for the most infuriating woman in the ton? The only person who was sure to challenge him whenever possible?

“Yes, we can wait a week,” he asserted.

A week couldn’t come soon enough. Though Anthony’s heart was broken, he couldn’t help the small part of him that was holding out hope for you to miss your courses.

Surely you could learn to love him if you were with child. It would give him the opportunity to try his best to make you love him back, which would likely be easier if you were already married to him. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it gave him hope.

This wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be. He was still in love with you, and perhaps with time, you could come to love him too. 

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

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Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

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"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[krokusplays]

A Rising Dawn - Chapter 8

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature

Chapter Length: 2.8k

Fic Status: Complete (8/8)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut(chapter 7), First time, set before the events of 3.0

Author’s Notes: The final chapter is here! I just wanna thank you all so much for reading and for sharing your thoughts with me about the fic <3 I have never received such kind and heartwarming comments on a fic ever before and I genuinely mean that. It means the world to me to hear how you all have been enjoying this little fic that started out as a mere one-shot idea <3 I've had an absolute blast writing it and I also learned a lot about my writing in general. I wrote this fic in a different way from how I used to write fics before and I don't think I ever wanna go back now haha I don't know yet when or if there will be another project like this in the future, even though I am playing with the idea. Just this time it's Phainon x Reader and a modern AU. But we'll see eventually. For now, thank you again for sticking with me and I hope you'll like this final chapter <3

Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city’s borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

With a sigh you wrapped the thin blanket around your nude body and stepped onto the balcony of Mydei’s home in the early Entry Hour. Sleep still tugged at your mind and body and yet, you’ve never felt more awake either.

You sat down on the cushions of the bench and gazed up into the sky where Kephale’s light shone brightly at the start of this new day. Sounds from inside reached your ears where Mydei prepared some breakfast for you in the kitchen and something about this made your heart swell inside your chest.

It felt so… domestic. So cozy.

And also unbelievable. You remembered the first time you were here and sat in the very same spot weeks ago. How tense and nervous you’ve been and now… You were sitting here with a smile on your face and nothing but a thin blanket from his bed covering your body.

Mydei stepped onto the balcony with a tray in his hands, full of small plates and two steaming cups. The smell of coffee reached your nose and you inhaled the scent sharply. Perfect for such a lazy morning.

As Mydei put the tray down you couldn’t help but throw a glimpse at him. His steps were so much quieter without all the armor. He wore nothing but pants, his upper body exposed. All powerful and rippling muscles. A gorgeous but also thrilling sight.

To think how these strong arms have held you like something delicate last night, how those hands that could crush stone and bend metal touched and caressed your body with a tenderness few people possessed to begin with…

You averted your gaze when warmth rose in your cheeks.

Instead you allowed the smell of coffee and freshly sliced fruits to distract your mind and senses. He sliced it all. All the fruits, the cheese, the bread…

“Oh,” you said as your eyes traveled over the plates, “that really wasn’t necessary.”

Mydei paused at that. Looked at you with a raised brow, unblinking. You tilted your head but it took a long moment until realization dawned upon you. When it did, you chuckled.

“Yeah, alright. I’m one to talk,” you said, your voice ridden with laughter. Mydei’s lips twitched upwards, amusement glistening in his eyes. He handed you one of the cups of coffee before he sat down next to you.

Another proof just how much your situation has shifted. Before, he took his seat on the chair on the other side of the small table and now, you were both sitting next to each other, barely clothed - your current state hardly counted as such at all - and with no distance between you. Your arm and knee brushed his, you could feel the warmth of his body…

This would’ve been impossible weeks ago.

Let alone sleeping with him.

It filled you with pride and glee knowing that affection and intimacy were not mere concepts to you anymore. That you could indulge in them without hesitation, without panicking.

And one day, he would be able to grasp and hold your wrists without that sliver of dread filling your mind too.

———————

“The kids were talking about wanting to see the sea one day,” you said as you picked up all the bowls you’ve brought and put them back into your basket.

Mydei looked at you for a moment, but didn’t stop storing the training weapons the kids used today. He closed the doors of the weapon cabinets at the side of the training grounds until nothing but the traces in the gravel and sand showed any sign of activity here.

“Would you take them?” he asked.

Going to the sea, especially taking children there, was impossible given the current circumstances on Amphoreus, but that was not what Mydei was implying. At all. You contemplated his words for a moment.

“I don’t know,” you replied eventually. You’ve never been to the sea again after that day all these years ago. And you had no idea if you wanted - no, if you could - face it again. Open water, untamed waves, expanding over the horizon… the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, brushing up on the shore…

You frowned.

A hand came to rest on your shoulder and you flinched, pulled out of your thoughts. When you looked up you met Mydei’s gaze. Burning brightly as ever but the concern flashing across them was impossible to miss. You haven’t noticed that he had approached you.

“I’m not fond of the sea either,” he said. You tilted your head, looked at him with a curious glance in your own eyes. Mydei looked away, crossed his arms in front of his chest as he gazed into space, eyes unfocused.

“When I was a little kid, my father threw me into the Sea of Souls. All for the sake of protecting his own life from a prophecy that I would one day slay him and take the throne for myself. He even schemed and took my mother’s life to prevent her from saving me.”

You felt your blood run cold. Your hands began to tremble as you stared at him, how he was still gazing at nothing in particular, arms crossed in front of him, brows furrowed.

His own father…?

“I… didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” you said and looked to the ground. What a tragic tale. And those few words probably didn’t convey half of the horrific story. The thought how any parent could do such a thing crept up inside your head but then your own parents appeared in your mind and your stomach churned at the thought. Your hand came up to clutch the crystal around your neck absentmindedly.

And here you have been, talking and burdening him with your own past when you never knew… never bothered to ask-

Mydei put a finger - armored and cold - beneath your chin, halting your thoughts.

“Do not fret this.” He pushed your chin up until you had to meet his gaze. His brows were furrowed the slightest bit, the glance in his eyes hard and unyielding. It left you speechless.

“Just like you, I have fought and worked on not letting it rule my thoughts and actions. Do not linger on it on my behalf.”

He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want concern. He didn’t want you to feel sorry for him. Not when neither of you could look back on a happy past and childhood.

People on the streets already had too many stories and rumors about him to tell. All these prejudices that even you haven’t been completely unaffected by in the very beginning.

You knew the stories all too well. Mydeimos, the Undying. The stories spread far and wide among Okhemans. That the Chrysos Heir kept returning from death. The crown prince of Castrum Kremnos who killed the former king.

You never dwelled too much on these stories.

You didn’t care.

Mydei has never given you any reason to ponder how… strange that body of his truly was. Or what deeds he has committed in the past. Not when he gave you nothing but warmth and comfort. And safety. He was nothing like the rumors on the streets. He was a Kremnoan warrior, not even you doubted that, but there was so much more to him that you couldn’t find it in you to care about anything else but how he was to you.

And if he did not want you to linger on this tragic and horrible story of his past, then the very least you could do for him was to heed his wish.

As you reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to his armored fingers, you hoped it would convey all that you thought and felt about this. Though, deep down you hoped he knew he could always speak to you if anything weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“I guess, we… have to ask Lady Tribios then to take the kids to the sea,” you said, a soft smile on your lips.

Mydei made a “hmpf” sound, though his lips twitched upwards and his expression softened.

———————

He… took a liking to this, he noticed.

You lying on top of him like this. Your cheek against his chest, your hands tracing the markings on his neck or playing with his hair, your legs entwined…

After sleeping with you, it seemed all the more intimate to have you close to him like this.

The crystal from your necklace caught his eye and he reached for it where it rested between your chest and his. You never took it off. Never.

With curious eyes you raised your head and watched him as he slid his thumb over the smooth surface. Even for something so small and delicate, Chartonus’s work was entirely unparalleled in Amphoreus.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked. Maybe it was finally time to let you in on the origin of these crystals. You pushed yourself upwards a bit, braced yourself on your arms on his chest as your eyes shifted between him and the necklace. The way you rested on top of him made it seem like you treated his chest like a random surface - a table or wall.

Adorable. And amusing. It drove home just how much smaller than him you were.

You shook your head. “No,” you said, “it’s pretty though.”

He huffed at that. Only you would say that. Probably an answer he should’ve anticipated. Still, he wondered if you would still call it pretty if you knew the truth. Maybe that’s why he hesitated to tell you all this time. He scolded himself. Was he truly fearing your answer? After everything you’ve been through?

“What is it?” you asked, your eyes locked on the crystal still in his hand.

“My blood.”

Time halted. Moments passed. Moments in which he was all too aware of his heavy heartbeat and the anticipation of your reaction growing in his mind. Your brows furrowed but your eyes never once averted from the crystal.

And then you reached for it. Took it from his hand to inspect it as if you were seeing it again for the first time, with a frown on your face and lips pursed. He didn’t say a word.

“Your blood?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“How?”

No doubts about his words. Just disbelief. You stared at the crystal dangling from the leather band, inspecting it as if it could give you an answer itself. He understood the confusion. It was unlikely an ability that you have come across before. Even he doubted there was a second person capable of using their own blood to fight. Natural for you to not associate a shiny red crystal - that you found on the ground - with blood.

How it worked, he did not know either. It came to him like breathing. Instinctual. It didn’t take energy or a lot of thought to conjure them up and shape them into whatever attack he initiated.

So he showed you instead.

He raised the hand that held the crystal before so you could see without having to move from your position on top of him. A mere thought was all it took. Mydei watched how your eyes widened when the markings on his arm began to glow before a crystal rose from his palm.

The shine faded an instant later and the crystal, about the size of the one around your neck, came to rest in his open palm.

He nodded towards you. You hesitated, stared at the crystal with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, surprise written all over your features. Or was it wonder? Disbelief? His lips twitched upwards as you took the crystal, looked at it from every angle as if to confirm it was real. The same crystal as around your neck.

“Does it hurt?”

His eyes widened at that. The amusement faded, left only bewilderment within him. That was your first thought? His ability has been called everything over the years - strange, grotesque, terrifying - and he fully expected a similar sentiment from you. And yet, all that left your lips was concern. For him.

“No,” he said. It was no lie. He barely felt the sensation of his blood surging through his body to gather and manifest like this anymore. When the itching in his veins grew too strong - consuming - it changed but in the thrill and adrenaline of it all it was something that spurred him on rather than harmed him.

You nodded. Satisfied with the answer. You still stared at the crystals, though eventually you put the new one aside, let it sink onto the mattress next to him, and turned your attention to the one around your neck again.

Until a soft smile broke out on your features. The glance that flashed across your eyes seemed to illuminate your entire face. He wondered what kind of thought could achieve such a thing.

You looked at him. Eyes beaming. Mouth forming a gentle upwards curve.

“Does this mean… that I’ve been carrying a part of you close to my heart all this time?”

Time stood still. And Mydei could only stare. Bewildered and speechless. Stunned. Golden eyes widened, lips parted and yet, no word escaped him.

He was caught off guard. Utterly and undoubtedly so.

He expected anything. Fear. Distaste. He would’ve been prepared if you had been grossed out. If you had taken the necklace off the moment you’ve learned it was blood. But here you were. Smiling and beaming at him with joy - adoration - because of the realization that you have kept this part of him close to your heart this entire time.

Did he mean that much to you? Did it make you happy to know that you have been carrying a literal part of him with you? Did it make you feel safer? You have held onto it so often. When you talked about your past. When you felt worried. Nervous. Scared.

It didn’t matter at all to you that it was blood.

All you cared about was how close he has been to you this whole time.

Mydei didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know what to do. What to say. He was… speechless. And so… touched. Once the shock slowly faded, it made way for something deeper. Something warmer. Something that made him yearn to hold you close. To wrap you in his arms and keep you safe from everything that weighed on you.

Your fingers brushed some of his strands away from his eyes, but only the tender touch of your lips on his managed to pull him out of his frozen state.

He gave in to the warmth and blissful sensation of your kiss instantly. Wrapped his arms around your body to press you close and indulge. And bask. And let go of himself.

“Thank you for this gift,” you whispered against his lips. And again. He couldn’t fathom how - why - you were treating this as something so precious. Deep down he wondered if his confusion stemmed merely from the fact that no one has ever treated his body, his ability, his origin, as anything but a curse. Devastating and terrifying.

But you…

“Does it… make you happy?” he dared to ask against your lips. You nodded, strands of your hair tickling his face with the almost eager gesture. He felt his heart race in his chest at the confirmation.

And pulled you into him again.

But as he kissed you, kept your body close to his, all he could think of was how he didn’t want to miss this. If he could he would fuse your souls together until he never had to be parted from you again and could indulge - bask - in your warmth and affection. And in turn, shower you in such himself.

He knew it was a foolish thought.

And he knew that beyond this bed and these walls, his life and duties remained unchanged and much less warm and comfortable than your arms around him and your lips on his.

Still…

He would need to think. Consider a lot of things.

The Flame-Chase journey. His detachment. The future of the Kremnoans. You.

And at this point in time he had no idea how to do everyone and everything justice and reach solutions that would not only secure the future of Amphoreus and his people, but also allowed him to have this. To indulge in you. Bask in your warmth and the comfort you brought without dismissing any of his duties.

But, he would reach for it anyway.

He would fight on, as he’s always done, and strive towards a future that had you by his side while still embracing his fate.

Or, if needed, resist his fate with all the strength of his mighty will.

[its-not-that-weird-blog]

On the wrong foot

Matt Rempe x Reader

Summary: Maybe starting off on the wrong foot wasn't as bad as everyone thought…

Warnings: A little angsty but nothing to bad, enemies to lovers.

A/N: Due to the lack of Matt Rempe´s fics, here you have one, hope you guys like it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language :) Let me know what you thought about this little fic

2.8k words

Being an intern for the New York Rangers has its ups and downs. Some positive aspects are that you get to do what you like (having fun on social media and forcing the players to make TikToks) and having free access to all the games in the season. All of that makes you grateful for this amazing opportunity, but there is one thing that makes this job unbearable..

And that is Matt Rempe, a cocky, 6'7" rookie who acts like he has the entire world in the palm of his hand. His arrogance and overconfidence make every interaction with him a challenge. He struts around the locker room, flaunting his height and abilities, often disregarding the efforts of those around him. His constant need for attention and validation only adds to the frustration, making what could be an amazing experience a bit of a nightmare.

Y/N and Matt started off on the wrong foot, meeting under the worst possible circumstances. It was the worst day of Y/N´s entire life. She had woken up late, throwing off her entire morning routine, and had to rush out the door without even grabbing a quick breakfast. Her day only got worse as she hurried to catch the train, only to miss it by mere seconds. By the time Y/N finally made it to the rink, she was frazzled, starving, and running on empty. That’s when she ran into Matt Rempe for the first time. Their initial encounter was less than pleasant, setting the tone for our strained relationship from the very start.

“You know this is a private practice, right?” Matt asked the poor frazzled girl.

“Yes, I am very aware of that,” she answered, chuckling. “You must be Matt, right? The new rookie?” Y/N asked, looking up at the lanky, very tall boy standing in front of her.

“Yeah, I mean, hard for you not to know, I guess... And you are?” Matt trailed off.

Y/N was taken aback, mainly because the team directors always made sure to let the new guys know who worked in what, especially in the media and marketing department.

“Oh, umm… I’m Y/N, one of the media interns,” she replied with a tight-lipped smile.

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Media intern, huh? So, what do you do? Take pictures and post tweets?”

“Actually, I manage the team's social media accounts, coordinate player interviews, and create content for our marketing campaigns,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite her irritation. “It’s a lot of work and responsibility.”

“Right, sure,” Matt said dismissively. “Well, try not to get in the way.”

Y/N felt a surge of frustration but forced herself to stay calm. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “And maybe you can try to remember who’s on your team next time.”

Matt smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anger and determination. She knew she had to prove herself, not just to Matt, but to everyone. This internship was too important to let one arrogant rookie ruin it for her.

She brushed it off, but it still annoyed her the audacity of that boy.

°°°°°°°°°°°

A few weeks had passed since their first encounter and it has been a constant fight between Y/N and Matt, mainly because of Matt’s attitude towards her. December rolled around and the team´s marketing director told the staff that they needed to do a promotional photoshoot to use during summer break.

It was a chilly Tuesday morning, and the team was gathered for the photoshoot at an outdoor rink. The bright sunlight reflected off the ice, creating a beautiful backdrop for the shoot. Y/N had been working tirelessly to ensure everything was set up perfectly: the lighting, the props, and the shoot schedule. 

Matt Rempe, on the other hand, seemed determined to test Y/N’s patience today. As the players gathered for their turn in front of the camera, Y/N called Matt over for his individual shots.

“Alright, Matt, let’s get started,” Y/N said, holding up a clipboard and checking the list. “We need you to do a few action poses first, then we’ll get some close-ups.”

Matt strolled over with a cocky and sarcastic grin. “Sure thing, but can I ask, why do we have to do this out in the freezing cold? Couldn’t you find a warmer spot?” Making his grin disappear and tuning his face into an annoyed frown

Y/N kept her professional demeanor. “It’s about the look we’re going for. The outdoor rink adds a unique touch to the photos. Plus, it’s only for a short while.”

Matt sighed heavily but positioned himself on the ice. As Y/N instructed him to perform a few drills and poses, Matt’s resistance became evident. He was slow to follow instructions, often taking a few extra seconds to reposition himself, and his expressions were lackluster at best.

Y/N tried to stay patient as she gave him clear directions. “Matt, please try to focus on the details of the poses. We need these shots to look sharp and engaging.”

Matt responded with a distracted nod but continued to make minimal effort. When Y/N asked him to adjust his stance, he grumbled, “I’m doing my best here, but this isn’t exactly my favorite way to spend an afternoon.”

Y/N took a deep breath, keeping her frustration in check. “Matt, I understand it’s not the most exciting part of the job, but it’s important for the team’s image. We need to get this right.”

Matt didn’t seem to take her seriously. He continued to make things difficult for everyone, giving half-hearted poses, shooting dirty looks at the camera, and maintaining his scowl. The photographer was visibly annoyed, and Y/N could feel the tension rising.

“Matt, if you can’t cooperate, we’re going to have to reschedule,” Y/N said, her voice firm.

Matt stopped his antics and looked at Y/N, realizing she was serious. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But can we make this quick? I’m freezing out here.”

With a reluctant nod, Y/N directed Matt through the remaining poses, this time with a bit more cooperation. Though his attitude was far from perfect, he made an effort to follow directions and get the shots done. Y/N was relieved to finish the session and hoped that Matt’s cooperation would improve with time.

Matt’s POV:

A few days after my awkward encounter with Y/N at the photoshoot, I was at the rink, trying to shake off the frustration of another rough practice. As I was heading to the locker room, Trouba stopped me in the hallway, looking a bit more serious than usual.

“Dude, you should leave poor Y/N alone,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re driving her crazy, and not in the right way.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything that bad.”

“Really?” Jacob replied, his tone indicating he was unimpressed. “I’ve seen you giving her a hard time. She’s not just some intern; she’s part of the team’s media and marketing department. You’re making it difficult for her to do her job.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal. I thought I was just being straightforward.”

“It’s not about being straightforward,” Jacob explained. “It’s about showing some respect. She’s working hard behind the scenes, and she’s under enough pressure already. You don’t want to be the guy who makes things worse for her.”

I sighed, realizing he had a point. I hadn’t thought about how my behavior might be affecting Y/N. “Alright, I get it. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

Trouba nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good. Trust me, it’ll make things easier in the long run.” He started walking back toward the locker room but stopped and turned around to face me again. “And if you have a crush on her, that second-grade bullshit needs to stop.” He winked at me before finally leaving.

As Trouba walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to make things right with Y/N. It was clear that my attitude needed to change, and I had to start finding a way to work with her, not against her.

And maybe Jacob’s right; I might have a little—just the tiniest—crush on Y/N. She’s a gorgeous, smart, and driven girl, and because of my little game, she probably won’t give me the time of day. But first things first, I need to turn around the relationship we currently have, or rather, the lack thereof.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The next day, Matt found himself lingering outside the media office, trying to figure out how to approach Y/N. Apologizing wasn't something he was used to, especially when he wasn’t sure how she’d react. But he knew he had to start somewhere.

Y/N was at her desk, headphones on, focused on editing a video from the previous game. She hadn’t noticed Matt standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat, causing her to look up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” Y/N said, pulling off her headphones and sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about the other day. You know, at the photoshoot.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious where this was going. “Okay…”

“I realize I’ve been a bit of a jerk,” Matt admitted, his voice slightly strained. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you, and I’m sorry for being difficult.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his sudden apology. It was the last thing she expected from him. “Well, that’s… unexpected,” she said, not quite sure how to respond. “But I appreciate it.”

Matt nodded, feeling a small weight lift off his shoulders. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time, but I want to make it up to you. Maybe we can start over?”

Y/N studied him for a moment, searching for any signs of insincerity. To her surprise, Matt seemed genuinely contrite. “Alright,” she said finally, offering a small smile. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Relief washed over Matt, and he smiled back. “Great. Maybe I can help out with some of the social media stuff, or anything else you need?”

Y/N chuckled, the idea of Matt willingly helping with TikToks and Instagram posts was amusing. “We’ll see about that,” she said teasingly. “But I’ll definitely let you know if there’s anything you can do.”

Matt grinned, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. “Deal.”

As he left the office, Matt couldn’t help but feel a bit more relieved. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Y/N, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to turn things around.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°|

Over the next few weeks, Matt made a conscious effort to be more cooperative and approachable, especially when it came to Y/N’s work. It wasn’t always easy—old habits die hard—but he was determined to keep his word. Slowly but surely, the tension between them started to ease.

Y/N, for her part, noticed the change in Matt’s behavior. He was still cocky and sarcastic, but there was a noticeable shift in his attitude. He wasn’t as dismissive or difficult as before, and he even started to show some interest in the work she was doing. It was a refreshing change, and it made her job a little less stressful.

One day, as they were wrapping up a content planning meeting, Y/N decided to take a chance. “You know, Matt, we’re shooting a new series of TikToks next week,” she said casually. “We could use a player who’s good on camera… Interested?”

Matt smirked, recognizing the playful challenge in her voice. “Oh, so now you need my help?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Only if you’re up for it.”

Matt pretended to think it over, then nodded. “Alright, I’m in. But only if you promise to make me look good.”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to take direction without any complaints this time.”

“Fine,” Matt agreed, holding out his hand. “Shake on it?”

Y/N shook his hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, this internship wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

And as for Matt? Well, he found himself looking forward to working with Y/N a lot more than he’d expected.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

As the weeks passed, the collaboration between Y/N and Matt grew smoother, and so did their relationship. They began to banter more playfully, their exchanges losing the tension they once had. Y/N started to see a different side of Matt, the side that wasn’t all arrogance and bravado, but someone who was actually fun to be around. 

Matt, too, couldn’t help but notice how much he enjoyed spending time with Y/N. Her sharpness, her determination, and the way she handled everything with grace under pressure all intrigued him. The more he got to know her, the more he found himself wanting to be around her.

One evening, after a long day of content creation and practice, Y/N was finishing up some last-minute edits in the media room. The office was quiet, with most of the staff having gone home. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice Matt walk in.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice broke the silence, startling Y/N slightly.

“Oh, fuck!” Y/N yelped, “ Matt, you scared me!” she exclaimed, laughing as she turned to face him. “What are you doing here so late?”

Matt leaned against the doorframe, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. It’s been a long day, and I figured you could use a break.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. This was the first time Matt had ever suggested something like this. “Are you asking me out on a dinner date?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Matt chuckled, his expression softening. “Yeah, I guess I am. What do you say?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They ended up at a cozy little diner not too far from the arena, the kind of place that felt welcoming and unpretentious. As they settled into a booth, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything, from their families and childhood memories to their hopes and dreams for the future.

For the first time, Y/N saw the genuine person behind the cocky exterior. Matt was funny, thoughtful, and surprisingly down-to-earth. The more they talked, the more she found herself drawn to him. 

And Matt? He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Y/N looked when she laughed, or how her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. He realized that this wasn’t just a crush anymore, he was falling for her, and hard.

As they walked out of the diner, the night air cool and crisp, Matt felt a wave of nervous anticipation. He knew he didn’t want this night to end just yet.

“Y/N,” Matt began, stopping in front of her. “I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but… I really like you. And I want to see where this could go.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made her heart swell. “Matt, I like you too,” she admitted, a soft smile spreading across her face. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… you’ve shown me that there’s more to you than I thought.”

Matt took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… what now?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

Y/N’s smile widened as she closed the distance between them. “Now,” she said softly, “we see where this goes.”

With that, Matt leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, sweet kiss. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if both of them were testing the waters. But as Y/N responded, the kiss deepened, filled with a warmth and affection that had been building between them for weeks.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, but smiling. Matt rested his forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I’m really glad you didn’t let me mess this up,” Matt whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with happiness. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

Matt grinned, leaning in to kiss her again. “Yeah, we really do.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the streetlights, it was clear that this was the beginning of something special—something neither of them had expected, but both of them were more than ready to embrace.

[justwonder113]

Showering Hyunjin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: you just had to show your drama queen of a boyfriend how much you love him. word count:2.5k

Warning: lot's of kissing, reader is gender neutral, both of them are whipped, appearance of 3racha, predebut Han almost making an entrance, Hyunjin is drunk and a drama queen, overall soft stuff. Please tell me if I missed something

A/N- I'm back with another fic, this took me a while but I'm kinda really satisfied with it, I really hope you all like it. I will try to write the next part as soon as I can. I wanna finish these series as soon as I can, first of all because I'm all excited and can't wait, also I'm excited to try out new tropes, I was thinking of challenging one bed trope after this, with various different dynamics. The requests are open, if you want me to write something I'll gladly accept the challenge. Also feel free to share your thoughts with me, I absolutely adore interacting with y'all. If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

After sighing for the nth time you finally forced yourself to turn off the shitty netflix show you were watching to spend time. You had nothing to do and were bored out of your mind, but not to that context to sit through another minute of this. It was almost 3 am and any normal person would be asleep by now, but here you were wide awake, feeling nothing remotely close to sleepiness.

You sat up straight after laying for couple of hours and boy you regretted it. The dizzy spell you got was nothing to joke with, maybe you should check your iron levels. Also your poor muscles felt so sore you would surely feel all stiff tomorrow. Your back was killing you, and, not to be dramatic but, you would marry anyone on the spot if they managed to massage the knots out. It was safe to say, you desperately needed some good spa day.

Speaking of marriage and partners, you were curious on how Hyunjin was doing. Even a mere thought of your amazing boyfriend bought a smile to your face. You couldn't believe you two were actually dating after pining over him for so many years. You sure were lucky tho, to have a sweetheart like him as your boyfriend. Your one year annivercary was coming soon and you couldn't surprise wait to surprise him. You've been planning everything for weeks now and you made sure everything would be perfect. Well you had to share some of your plans with him, so that you could plan your day together but you still had major card up your sleeve and you were sure he would lose his mind when you showed it to him. Two days, you only had to wait for two days.

You couldn't help but sigh, you missed him so much. Even though you saw him two days ago it felt like centuries had passed. This boy made you feel so many so foreign emotions you were never sure you would get to or actually could experience. He always went above and beyond to make you feel like the most special and cherished person, and the fact that he also did so even before you two started dating each other. He was always so sweet and gentle with you. You always felt like a hero of a romance novel. Also you adored how being with him was so fun and exciting but at the same time bought peace to your heart and mind. You might be rushing into things but day by day, second by second you were convinced he was your soulmate, your other half.

A sudden buzzing of your phone startled you out of your daydream, you were curious who in their right mind was calling you at this hour.

Seeing the contact name had you even more confused. Why would Chan be calling you at 3 am? You knew the boys were out having fun night for themselves. Did something happen? You hoped he called you for other reasons, because it would really suck if their rare chance of having fun got ruined by something unplanned. You sure hoped everything was okay tho. Quickly as you could you grabbed your phone and answered it mentaly preparing yourself to hear anything Chan had to say.

Chan's call of your name bought you down to reality from another spiral of unnescesary thoughts.

"Hey Chan what's up?" You tried to sound as calm as you could.

Chan cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You quickly denied it," no I'm awake, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Chan chuckled and it made you relax a little, so nothing bad had happened, "yeah, yeah everything's fine , nothing to worry about, it's just your boyfriend is getting a bit fussy." You couldn't help but mirror the last word, you heard Chan chuckle. "Yeah alcohol must've got to him. We were about to go home, but he refuses to cooperate. He says he wants to go at yours because he as he quotes "misses his baby so much he can't take it anymore!" He dragged the words mimicking your boyfriend, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where are you guys, I can come pick him up." You suggested while searching for your keys with your eyes.

"No, no it's okay, we can bring him at yours. Binnie and Han are with me too so I don't think it will be much trouble. I just couldn't knock some sense into him, I told him to call you but he said his phone died. At some point he even ran towards your house or that's what he thought I had to tackle him before he could get lost. I don't think he can tell left from right in this state" He paused for a second, you heard someone talking but you couldn't hear anything, " I'm getting off track sorry, so it's good to bring him at yours?" You were full on chuckling now, what a silly little man.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I'm sorry he's being trouble."

"No it's fine, it's kinda endearing to see him this whipped. All he talked about was you and how amazing you are." Your cheeks hurt from smiling this wide, God, you loved that idiot. "Okay I won't bore you anymore, we'll be at yours soon."

"Okay I'm waiting."

After finishing the call you made sure you looked decent enough for your taste and that your apartment looked neat. You also prepared clothes for Hyunjin to change into from his drawer and some water and painkillers for tomorrow.

It didn't even take 20 minutes for the boys to arrive. The second you opened your door Hyunjin tackled you into a hug, almost knocking you over, thankfully Changbin and Chan caught you two before you could manage and break your necks. You giggled at your boyfriends eagerness, before frowning when you saw how swollen and red his eyes were. "What happened baby?" You cooed at him and moved his hair out of his face. Hyunjin sighed and hugged you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You heard collective sigh of boys and turned your attention to them, looking at them with confused eyes, hoping they would tell you what was up.

Han decided to break the silence-"don't worry he was just bawling his eyes the whole ride, crying how amazing and perfect you were and how there is no one like you." He said and rolled his eyes, you huffed out a laugh, you knew he had nothing against you, but he must have had enough of this. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at him, his hold on you tightened, you were not sure if he felt possesive or just couldn't keep himself straight. "You're just bitter cuz you're single!" Hearing your boyfriends grumble Han's eyes widened and for a second you were afraid predebut Han would return. "Oh I'm gonna beat his ass!" Han leaned in but Changbin held him back by his collar, Changbins gaze then turned to you and you noticed how tired he seemed. "Good luck, he's your headache now."

Chan looked at you" Do you need any help with anything?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "I can handle him. Do you guys wanna come in tho? Do you want something to drink?" After hearing the last word you could see all three of them shiver.

"We're fine. It's late too we better head home." Chan reassured you after glancing at Changbin and Han for their opinion.

"Okay, thanks again for bringin him. Tell me when you're home, it's really late."

You said your goodbyes and turned to hyunjin who looked at you with dazed, sparkling eyes. "Let's get you settled pretty boy." You took his hand and started leading him towards your bedroom. Hyunjin eagerly followed you, you were amazed how pliant he was being, usually he loved being a brat but he must have been too tired now to act so.

After helping Hyunjin get ready for bed, you quickly got changed too and got in bed next to him. turning to him you noticed that he looked at you with wide eyes, nowhere near sleepy now. You leaned in and removed hair from his forehead, "I thought you were sleepy baby." Hyunjin looked at you for a second or two and opened his arms, "wanna cuddle." His words were slurred but you still got what he meant, you smiled and immediately snuggled next to him his arms finding solace around you. Based on how content he looked, if he could he would start purring any second now. How was he so cute and lovable? You knew you were whipped for him but you could swear he looked extra yummy right now.

You spent couple of minutes like this, and based on his even breathing you were sure he was asleep now, but you were proved wrong when he huffed while glaring at you and then changed sides so that you were now facing his back. To be honest you were a bit dumbfounded.

"What's wrong sweetie?" You couldn't help but pry, you had no idea what could've brought this behavior from him. Hyunjin just huffed. You sighed for yourself, you had got to use the big guns. You leaned in closer, amused at how he tried to get away from your touch, as if he had much space to run off to, and soon, not really to your surprise you had him trapped in the corner of your bed. You wrapped your hand around his stiff body and leaned in closer so that you could sweetly whisper against his ear. " Please tell me what's wrong my love" you dragged his nickname as sweetly as you could knowing it made him weak in the knees, and it did break through him. Hyunjin sighed and laid on his back, you glued next to him, his lips were pouted and his eyes a little bit glossy, you rubbed his side to ease him into talking .

"You don't love me" he whined quietly, you expected to hear anything but this from him if you were honest. You blinked at him confused, trying to gather your thoughts, you were both perplexed and also hollering from laughter inside. He was so ridiculous sometimes. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers to play with his soft locks, Hyunjin immediately leaned into the touch.

"My love, I love you so much I don't think you can even comprehend it! What brought this up?" Your voice was soft, you wanted him to know how sincere you were. Hyunjin sighed and put his hand on your waist, successfully bringing you closer to him, your fingers migrated and now were gently scratching his nape. Hyunjin hid his face in the crook of your neck and quietly grumbled "you didn't kiss me even once since I got here, we haven't seen each other in a while tho." No matter how hard you tried you couldn't hold it in and started cackling, this adorable as hell drama Queen! He had you worried for nothing! You even thought for a second you did something wrong.

Noticing your shaking figure, Hyunjin looked up at you with doe eyes, and his pout deepened when he saw you that you were wholeheartedly laughing. "Stop laughing I'm talking from my heart here!" His comment made you laugh even harder. "I should've gone home, you hates me" noticing how sad he sounded you got reminded that he was drunk as hell and was feeling more fragile, you wondered tho if he would remember any of this in the morning? Was it too late to grab a camera? Pouty Hyunjin was adorable.

"I'm sorry my love, you know I love you the most." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and you knew he was playing with you, his eyes glimmered with mischief, well, two could play this game. You lowered your voice so you sounded almost sultry "Why don't you let me prove my sincerity to you then? Are you gonna let me?" You carefully watched as Hyunjin's eyes widened for a second, the big gulp and careful nod of his head.

This was all the permission you needed, you leaned in and carefully sealed your lips together, your boyfriend basically melted against you. You just loved how soft and pillowy his lips were, you always felt like you could kiss him for eternity.

The kiss started out soft, with you gently caressing his lips, his hand firm on your waist, holding you as if you were going to go away. Everything went quiet, you could only see, smell, taste, feel, hear him and so much more, he was the center of your universe. It was just you two right now, you didn't care about anything else. You had one goal only and you were dedicated. Everything about him was driving you crazy, you were sure he couldn't even grasp what, or how much you were feeling.

Your kisses quickly deepened and apart from gasping for air from time to time you two were inseparable, like two magnets pulling on each other.

The second Hyunjin leaned back for a second for some air, you decided to continue your little attack on his jaw, then his cheeks, absolutely loving the feel of his soft skin on your lips, then came his forehead, his eyelids, his beautiful nose, his chin, his neck... You wanted to cover every inch of him in kisses, to show appreciation to whichever god or gods crafted him, to show appreciation that this walking perfection was yours, his soft sighs and whines making you go even crazier.

You littered every part of skin you could reach with kisses until your lips were so numb and buzzing you got afraid they would fall off. Although, it didn't sound that bad, knowing the last thing they did was to kiss the Hwang Hyunjin senseless.

Looking at him, he looked at you with so much love and adoration, his face and neck all flushed, his breathing was quick and shallow,his hair all disheveled, his beautiful hands held you so tightly, your heart started fluttering all over again. He looked absolutely breathtaking, you wished you could engrave this moment into your mind for eternity. You smiled at him and softly grazed his cheek. "Are you satisfied with my answer my precious?" Your voice was soft, Hyunjin gleamed at you and eagerly nodded his head, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the bed, Hyunjin above you, hugging you as tight as he could, his lips softly kissing your collarbone. "Absolutely, I love you so much beautiful, you have no idea" he pressed another kiss on your neck and then your lips with so much love and passion you just knew your feelings were returned with the same passion and vigor.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated ^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

[yaekiss]

nostalgic music night! now to bless you with the following:

call me maybe by carly radio jepsen　as　kaveh, pretty blushing face like a fair maiden as he watches you do the work on his car, the hood of the vintage vermilion beauty popped up and your shirt off (how scandalous!) he's not subtle at all in that white shirt of his that shows off his waist as he walks over after ogling you sweat in the summer heat. he isn't normally so forward, you know, he swears, but here's his number　<3　he'll be waiting at his phone, giddy as a teenage girl and biting his lip the moment you leave his driveway.

west coast by lana del rey　as　aventurine, who swears he isn't that attached or that interested as he suavely seats himself next to you at a beachside bar. he smells like a wonderful blend of everyone else pressed side to side to front to back, the tobacco, the vanilla, the amber, the bergamot, the musk, sandalwood— everything blending wonderfully in a way only he seems to pull off. the hearts in his eyes are hidden by the sunglasses indoors (classy) and the dim lighting hides his blush. he's running so hot that he's sure you can feel it as you both drink together, enamored strangers on a balcony and the salty breeze giving an undeniable addictiveness to his presence when you lean in once more. then you see him the next friday. the weekend. and again the next week. seems like someone's in love.

shut up and dance by walk the moon　as　a drunk mammon, pulling you to the dance floor no matter your protests. he thrives off of being near you, hands always on you as he makes sure you're only looking at him. shut up! you've got THE great mammon dancing with you, what more could you want, human?! he's clumsy and has two left feet with all that demonus in his system, too honest with his whines when you start to complain about the cramped floor— who cares!— but you're sure your mind, no, your very soul won't forget the absolute joy you feel that night.

cake by the ocean by dnce　as　sydney, fallen of course, clad in a bikini that's flattering in every way that matters. he knows you can't keep your eyes off of him, and soon enough, not even your hands. he acts coy, but the moment you're both secluded, he's letting you feast on that sweet cake he has　<3　and who cares if he's caught? the mere thrill of the thought has him trembling from another orgasm you and it rips from him. he's only yours to ravage, after all. anyone else can watch and know that it's only the truth.

I AM SHAKING YOU BY YOUR SHOULDERS PULPIE this is just so good... pulling up a chair and tying a bib around my neck thank you for the feast [drools]

kaveh...!!! sigh. can you imagine him wearing that white shirt along with the tiniest pair of denim shorts he can find in his wardrobe. and to beat the summer heat, he has his lips innocently pursed around a cold popsicle while occasionally licking the sticky juice running down his fingers as it melts. when you finally close the hood of his car, he walks over to you to discuss the subject of payment. maybe he'll add in the bonus of a nice carwash or two ♡

aven convincing you to try out his drink, only for him to take a sip from his glass and press his lips to yours. although he was the one initiating, it doesn't seem like you're rejecting his advances from the way your deepening the kiss. the taste of you muddled with the sweet alcohol is simply too addictive, won't you let him try out your drink next?

AHHHH drunk mammon is too cute I just have to eat him up!! he may be one of the clumsiest demons on the dance floor but the way your eyes crinkle up into a smile when you look at him is definitely worth it. when the rowdy party crowd shoves him up against your chest, noses almost touching, how could you not kiss him? his heart almost beats out of his chest at this btw and he gets so dizzyflustered that he has to go sit down (perfect time to give him a lap dance ;3)

FALLEN SYDNEY. ough him in the microkini is something that has never left my mind even aft months of not playing dol. on the beach he may seem nothing but chaste and coy, but the sly thing takes every chance he can get to rile you up, until your tugging him into a changing cabin on the more quiet part of the beach. if you tell him to shut up, he just moans all the more louder, golden eyes rolling into the back of his head as you eat him out ♡

[girliism]

a continuation of this

you and patrick orbited around each other that following week. you refused to speak to him. you felt humiliated, having to see her, interact with her, and with your new found realization you wondered how had you not seen it before? the less than platonic touches that lingered too long, how patrick seemed to hang onto her every word. the tension between the two of you was suffocating and impossible to ignore. “practice might run late tonight.” your friend eyed the both you. “ok.” you answered dryly. patrick placed a hesitant and awkward kiss on your head before leaving. your friend cleared her throat. “so, what’s going on with you two.” you looked at her. “what do you mean.” you knew what she meant. “nothing just you guys seem weird.” she shrugged. but you couldn’t avoid him forever, i mean you guys lived in the same house. “couldn’t sleep?” you were standing at the counter when patrick walked into the kitchen. you shook your head. “never realized how big our bed is.” patrick has sleeping in the guest bed. the tall brunette came to stand next to you. “don’t you think we should talk.” you sighed and looked up at him. “i’m tired, patrick.” you grabbed the tea you were brewing, going to make your way back upstairs before his voice stopped you. “are you gonna leave me?” his question rattled around in your head. would you? over something he said ment nothing. except sex always ment something.

“that depends entirely on you.” you mumble. “what?” turn to face him. “i see the you look at her patrick.” he huffed. “and don’t tell me it doesn’t mean anything because it does.” patrick ran his hand through his hair. “when can we let this go? it was mistake that i am forever sorry about, but you can’t keep punishing me.” he defended himself. you let out a breathy laugh. “you went out of your way to have sex with her patrick, that doesn’t sound like a “mistake” to me.” patrick rubbed his hands over his face, throwing his head back. “well it was.” his words muffled by his hands over his face. why couldn’t you just believe him. “are you in love with her?” patrick just looked at you. was he? or was this merely a crush, some sort of fleeting infatuation for his past lover. “you are my wife.” you closed your eyes ignoring how he ignored the question. “am i? because it’s like i have to beg for your attention, while she could call you and you’re out the door.” you said, tears building up, patrick walked up to you placing his hands on your shoulders. “i wanna make this work, i wanna put this behind us. please.”

so you guys made it work. patrick gave himself boundaries when it came to tashi, no more late night practices or business dinners alone. he spent more time with you, taking you on dates more which felt awkward at first having to start over. there was even a redo on family pizza night which the kids loved, though it brought back bittersweet memories for you. “dad, look i made a tennis ball pizza.” your son laughed. with patrick’s final season starting soon he was gonna be on the road, alone, with tashi. “patrick?” you whispered. it was the middle of the night but you couldn’t sleep, you kept rolling around your wedding ring, the piece of jewelry that once felt like a second skin now sometimes felt heavy. “hm.” he hummed. “will i be able to trust you on tour?” patrick rolled to lie on his back, placing his hand in yours. “of course.” you let out a deep sigh, squeezing lightly at his hand

patrick ended winning the us opening he had previously lost, announcing his retirement from tennis thanking both you and tashi for getting him here.

( i think reader staying with patrick and them working it out was the more realistic approach.)

[wooskirbyplushie]

Late Night Love ~ J.WY

✰ Husband!Jung Wooyoung x Reader

✰ Synopsis: Wooyoung comes home late and decides to show you how much he missed you. Honestly just a little bit of fluff for the soul

✰ Word Count: 1k

✰ Warnings: Some suggestive content, kissing, mentions of drinking (wine but drink responsibly), reader is female, mentions of kids

✰ a/n: Hey hey, long time no see (literally like three or four weeks.) Um life has been kicking my ass :3 I've been planning a billion different new ideas that I randomly come up with, but none of them are done... (cough cough, our little secret pt2.) But besides that ! This is just another drabble that has been in my drafts for almost a year now.

And as always, my masterlists are down below!

Ateez Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist

it wasn’t rare for you to go to sleep without seeing your husband. if anything, it was more than normal for you to go to sleep and be woken up by wooyoung coming home in the wee hours of the morning after a long day of rehearsals, and today was no different. 

you had managed to wrangle the kids to eat, shower, and get changed into their pajamas at a reasonable time; convincing them to go to sleep early with an extra scoop of ice cream. once they were tucked into bed, the kids pleaded to call wooyoung to say goodnight with puppy eyes, and you of course obliged.

when the final goodnights were said, you took the opportunity to have some alone time, starting with a very necessary 30 minute shower and face mask. it had been forever since the last time you had a moment to truly take care of yourself considering how crazy your schedule was between the kids and running back and forth to the office for work. 

after the shower, you moisturized and decided to cozy up in bed with one of the many books you had bought but had yet to touch. lighting a candle on the nightstand to add to the mood, you got in a comfortable reading position in hopes of not falling victim to the usual dozing off mid sentence scheme. after about 45 minutes, you felt your eyelids start to droop, notifying you that maybe it was time to call it a night. looking at the clock to your right you saw it was only a little bit after 2 am. still no sign of your husband, but you were too tired to wait up for him. you settled into bed and in mere minutes you were snoring ever so slightly. 

by the time wooyoung came home, it was a bit after 3 am and you were completely knocked out. he tried his best to not make any noise while putting his stuff away in the closet, tip toeing over to the bed to give you a light kiss on your temple, you stirring ever so slightly, before going to shower and get ready for bed himself. he carefully closed the connecting bathroom door and turned on the shower as quietly as possible. 

after his shower, wooyoung just threw on a pair of sweatpants and closed the bathroom door before making his way over to the bed. you had changed positions at this point, facing away from his side of the bed, making it easier for him to cuddle you to sleep. at least that’s what he had planned originally. he slipped under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm around your torso; causing you to start to wake up out of your sleep. 

wooyoung kissed the crook of your neck gently and peeked to see if his actions fully woke you up yet. but no, you were still sleep. smirking to himself, he leaned down and gave you another kiss. and another. and one more until the pecks turned into him obviously trying to leave a hickey on your neck. you shook your head and blinked a few times to wake up before turning your head and making partial eye contact with woo. it was dark so you could only imagine you were looking at his eyes but you honestly weren’t sure. 

“you just can’t let me sleep huh?” you joked before turning your body to face your other half. he chuckled in return, pulling you closer in his embrace. “well i tried to but when i got in bed i realized how much i missed you today.” woo responded whilst leaving a kiss on your forehead. you smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips in return. you wrapped your arms around him slightly before retracting them. “woo where is your shirt.”

“i get hot when i sleep cmonnnn” he whined in response. “plus you were gonna take it off anyway” he smirked. even thought you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in his voice, so you hit his shoulder in response. “oh stop being cheeky. if that was the case why wear pants??” you joked while pulling on the strings of his sweatpants. 

wooyoung just laid there for a second as if he was genuinely contemplating why he wore pants in the first place. rolling your eyes at his actions, you attempted to roll over to go back to sleep but woo grabbed you causing you to shriek when he did. he placed you on his lap in a way that you would be straddling him, his hands holding your waist in place and his hips adjusting underneath you. 

“woo i’m not playing with you right now i’m tired” you whined while hitting his chest. sitting up a bit so he wasn’t flat on his back, woo gave you another peck on the lips. 

“don’t worry baby i’ll do all the work.”

you looked over at the clock. 4 am. you let out a sigh before looking back at wooyoung. “you have 2 hours before the kids have to get up for school.”

“trust me baby i only need 1 and a half. and i’ll take care of the kids in the morning ok?” he reached up to cup your face while you contemplated his offer. “you better be up no later than 6:45.” you responded, slowly giving in to temptation; a pool of arousal building in the seat off your pajama shorts from the compromising position your husband had you in.

“i’ll be up by 6:44:59.” woo teased before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

you felt dizzy from how good it felt to have your lips on his after a long day, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

god you missed this…

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas week 2 - Lights, Mistletoe, Tradition, Red

rating: T | words: 1,649

wooo right in before the deadline lmao

<- back to previous part | next part ->

Steve knocks on the Munsons’ door at 10 the next morning. It’s only after he does, however, that he thinks that maybe Eddie won’t even be up yet, that he won’t be up for a couple more hours at least, despite what he said after dinner the night before;

“Gotta be up bright and early, Stevie dear, Wayne’s taking a double and someone’s gotta put up the tree.”

“You’re decorating already?”

“Sure am! It’s tradition to put the tree up the day after thanksgiving. Wanna come over and help?”

But, to his surprise, Eddie opens the door mere seconds after he’d knocked, the sounds of the local radio station’s Christmas music selections spilling out the door behind him.

“Finally,” he says, leaving the door open and turning to march back to an already open green tote in front of the couch.

“Sorry man, I honestly didn’t think you’d be up.” he laughs, following Eddie into the trailer. He kicks the snow off his boots in the doorway, toes them off, and closes the door behind him.

Looking around, Steve notices the already somewhat cramped space is more cramped now with the addition of a large cardboard box, a surprising number of rolls of wrapping paper in different stages of use, a pile of lights, and two plastic tubs, a green and a red, all spread out across the floor.

“What is all this stuff?”

“Our Christmas shit, duh.” Eddie says, bent in half over the tote and digging around at the bottom.

Steve takes the shortest moment to admire the view (A guy can have a crush on his relatively new, much-cooler-than-him friend if he wants to, alright?), then says, “Yeah Ed, I got that part, I mean, what is it all? What’s in the totes?” then walks over to the red tote and lifts off the lid.

A mess of ornaments awaits him under it; all of them loose, gold, green, red, and glittering.

“That one’s ornaments, this one’s garland, I think the tinsel’s in here too…?” more digging sounds.

“Why are they all just… loose?” Steve asks, picking up a green teardrop ornament. He’s used to his mother’s rigid everything has its place style of packing away the decorations every year, each fragile glass bauble having its own box or assigned spot in a big plastic tray… not like she’d been around to do the setup or take down the last couple years, but old habits die hard.

“Well it’s not like they’re gonna break, they’re all plastic.”

Steve scoffs a short laugh, shaking his head, “Alright, Munson, where do you wanna start?”

They start, of course, with the big cardboard box that holds the Munsons’ tree.

“You have an aluminum tree?” Steve asks with barely-hidden awe as he reads the red and green Evergleam Stainless Aluminum Christmas Tree on the side of the box. He’d always thought they were pretty, but his mom refused to have one in her home, said they were tacky (not to mention not nearly tall enough).

Eddie sighs, “Yeah, not what I woulda picked but,” he shrugs, pulling what looks like the stem of the tree out of the box, “Beggars and choosers and all that.”

“I think they’re great.” Steve says, taking the pole from Eddie.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I dunno, they’re so… shiny. So Christmas-y, y’know?”

Eddie gives him a look, but smiles, “Sure, I can see that.”

The two get to work, snapping the base and column of the tree together, then placing each of the branches into the holes dotted up and down the stem.

Eddie starts to pull the paper sleeves off the branches as he goes, and Steve finds himself entranced by finagling the spindly aluminum strips to look more tree-like.

He doesn’t know how long he spends wearing circles into Wayne’s carpet, but soon, Eddie comes to his side and asks, “Ready for the lights, Stevie?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah, sorry man.” he says, stepping back from the tree only to reach back out and fix the needles he brushed up against getting out of the way.

Eddie smiles, then drops to his hands and knees to crawl along the side of the couch to plug in the lights Steve now sees have been laid up and down the length of the living room and kitchen.

“You guys don’t have that spinny light thing?” He asks Eddie’s ass, then immediately regrets it. ‘Beggars and choosers and all that’. “I mean, uh..”

The warm white lights flicker on as Eddie shouts “Gotcha!” and shuffles backward, sitting up on his knees when finally free of the branches. Somehow, there’s tinsel in his hair now. Where’d that even come from??

“We do, actually, but it’s always been finicky. Pros of a ‘non-flammable’ tree means we don’t try to make things more flammable with untrustworthy motorized light doohickies, right?”

Steve blinks at him. “Did you just say ‘doohickies’?”

Eddie grins, “If I’m gonna quote Wayne, I’m gonna do it correctly.”

“Fair.” He laughs, holding out a hand for Eddie to take. Grabbing tight, Eddie heaves himself up off the floor.

“Alright big boy, you get to stringing those ones,” He says, pointing to the white lights, “While I untangle the other ones.” He picks up the other mess of lights triumphantly, a big grin still on his face.

It’s only then, when Eddie lets him go to pull at the lights, that Steve realizes he’d still been holding Eddie’s hand.

Steve gets the lights strung up around the little tree, and is rewarded with another good long look at Eddie’s backside while he plugs in the now untangled multicolored lights.

These ones are more familiar to him, “Hey, my grandma has these!” Steve says cheerily, examining the plastic petals around each light.

“Must be a grandma speciality, then.”

“Oh yeah? You a grandma, Ed?” Steve asks, carefully winding the lighted flowers back and forth across the tree.

Eddie snorts, “All this stuff was my grandma’s. Wayne got it when she died.”

Steve feels his face fall. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He glances up to see Eddie shrug, “She was before my time, but thanks.”

Eddie lets Steve work while he starts to dig through the totes; he’s got half the tote of greenery spilled out onto the floor by the time Steve goes to the other and starts to pick out ornaments.

He figured with a shiny silver tree like this that the gold ones wouldn’t look quite right, but the combination of color from the lights somehow makes it so only the gold would look right.

He’s pulling out the different shaped gold baubles when Eddie finds something.

“Ooh mistletoe~, how ‘bout it Stevie, you gonna lay one on me?” he croons, sidling up to Steve with one arm stretched above them.

“Shut up man,” Steve laughs, pushing him away on instinct alone and going back to the tote of ornaments.

Immediately, Steve can hear Robin’s voice in his head; “No! What are you doing?? You could’ve had your first boy kiss before my first girl kiss and you said NO? To EDDIE??”

Unaware of his turmoil, Eddie cackles good-naturedly as Steve’s heart thumps achingly in his chest.

He can’t help but imagine it, what it would’ve been like to take Eddie up on the offer, to just grab him up and plant one on him like he’s been wanting to for what, a good eight months now?

He’d kiss him, he’d blush all pretty, Steve’d say something corny and flirty and endearing, and Eddie would grin that big stupid grin at him and—

“Steve!”

Spell broken, Steve looks around at Eddie, standing over the faded tote with the scraggly-looking sprig of greenery still hanging from one of his fingers.. “What?”

Eddie shakes his head almost disbelievingly, “Whatta you mean ‘What?’? You’re the one zoning out in the middle of my living room, man.” He laughs, but it and his eyes are strained.

“Oh sorry, yeah. Just zoned out, promise.”

That seems to loosen Eddie up, “Okay, good.” He sighs, drops the mistletoe onto a cushion of the couch, and dives back in for two armfuls of garland.

Steve hangs ornaments on the tree while Eddie does his best to scare the shit out of him at every moment; he climbs up and all over the counters, the couch, Wayne’s recliner, all just to hang the garland around the cabinets and along the front of the shelves packed with mugs.

Eventually, they’re done.

The tree is lit, the garland is pinned in place where it won’t send any mugs careening down onto the couch below, every inch of the Munsons’ space is decked out and the unused decorations are being packed away into their totes.

“Last chance, big boy,” Eddie says, wiggling the fake plastic plant and his eyebrows at Steve.

He barks a short laugh and shakes his head fondly, and Eddie goes back to packing away the rest of the garland that was wrapped up in his other hand.

For a split moment, as he snaps the lid back onto his own tote, Steve wonders over his options, but knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t seize the moment.

He turns away from the red tote of ornaments, takes the three short steps to Eddie’s side, and plucks the mistletoe from Eddie’s hand.

Eddie, who turned automatically when he did, flushes beet red as Steve raises his hand and the little fake sprig of greenery above both their heads

Steve leans forward, and presses his lips to the warm apple of Eddie’s cheek.

He pulls back, and Eddie’s face is somehow redder. “Happy now, Munson?”

He’d meant for it to come out jokingly, willing to play it off if Eddie pushes back, but his voice comes out warm and low instead, with genuine curiosity colored through it.

Eddie gulps audibly, then breathes out a soft laugh, “Peachy.”

dividers from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!