#i have been thinking about this so much lately

[raimagnolia]

Me, after all that shit

I’m glad ppl on tiktok are doing ok

[lackadaisycats]

Video essay by Jellybox about what's good and bad about indie animation!

Wanted to share this in case it's helpful to anyone wanting to pursue making animation independently. It's also for fans of indie animation who may want some insight into how an indie studio works, why indie cartoons are always selling merch, why release schedules are often erratic, etc.

I also wanted to clarify the video's context, because it seems to have been somewhat misconstrued in some circles. Not long ago, WGA and SAG strikes, followed by TAG negotiations were very much in the news, shining light on the struggles the artists, writers, and actors in the Hollywood studio system are facing. In response, the words 'just go indie' have been tossed around quite a bit lately.

Gene and Sean at Jellybox approached us a few months back explaining that they were planning to make a video about the realities of running an indie studio/producing indie animation, largely in response to that 'just go indie' attitude. They were curious if we'd be willing to share our experience, including information about actual costs and the various difficulties and complications we've encountered. We said yes! We'd like for people to know what it's like. As much as it might look appealing next to the currently very broken studio system, indie has its own set of problems, and we think it's a good idea to be transparent about that because talking about problems is how you begin to address them.

Of course, while you get creative freedom and you have no shareholders to appease with indie production, the primary struggle you're always going to face is funding…and funding avenues are limited. Banks aren't eager to hand out business loans to freelance artists making cartoons, for instance. Social media algorithms reward frequent updates you can't swing with hand-drawn animated content, so you can't rely much on things like AdSense. You can't really insert sponsored ads into your animated videos without being too obtrusive. You can take on client work, but that interferes with your ability to focus on own animated project. Crowdfunds can be great for seed money, but they're also a ton of work to fulfill, and fulfillment itself will tend to eat up a considerable amount of the funds you've raised. Once your animation is produced, there is no well established way to sell the animated episode itself like there is for, say indie games sold on Steam. So, while we consider ways to try to make the terrain a bit more hospitable to indie creations, if nothing else, let this explain why productions rely a lot on merch drops!

-----------------

And hey, if you're an animation fan, consider supporting the independent productions you enjoy, whether you're tossing a few dollars their way, buying their merch, or just mentioning them to friends:

The Far-Fetched team is launching a crowdfund very soon to help them complete their pilot!

The Monkey Wrench team is killing it lately, and they deserve so much more fanfare than they've gotten!

And of course, thank you to the excellent folks at Jellybox for starting an important conversation!

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant yn and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

[xcherryc2x]

The roles have been reversed. Toji Fushiguro is your landlord…..How do you pay rent with no money???

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

Toji x femreader Wordcount: 1.3k

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ

"Slower…slower…unggghhhh…please go s-slower"

The whole bed is rocking back and forth. You swear it's an earthquake in your room. The ceiling light looks like it could fall any moment right onto you both

The man whose fucking you is so huge. His dick is fucking you up, it hurts so good.

he knows you secretly like it rough, which is why he doesn't take all your whining seriously. He always wants to see just how much more can you take.

You didn't really have a choice here. He's gonna keep ramming his thick cock into your tight cunt like there's no tommrow

Your moans get muffled by the pillow your holding onto for life. Although your relationship with this man may be undeclared, you are definitely sure about one thing, he has an insatiable sex drive

"Toji l'm begging you.. no more. we already did it in the morning"

It's true, he had dropped by unexpectedly right when you woke up earlier today, demanding you strip and bend over.

But considering the short time between then and now. Your whole body is much more sensitive reacting to each and everyone of his naughty touches.

He’s going to fast and hard, he's just ignoring your pleading, you're begging him to be more gentle

But instead he just keeps thrusting and leans down, holding you by your chin to kiss your puffy lips, with so much lust, this is his best attempt to shut you up. He loves the way you look back at him

His tight squeeze on your butt is making red indentations. You just wish his grip was a bit less aggressive, you weren't gonna run away or anything, you know there is no way to escape this tank of a man

"Stop... *squelch* ..complaing *squelch* ...when this hungry hole of yours can't seem to let me go" his heavy breaths combine with his low laughing.

"...you fucking whore"

The way he dominates over you "puts you in your place" ...has made you develop a certain attachment to him

Between his degrading responses, he leaves hickeys all over your nape and soft shoulders even biting the side of your neck, causing you to clench your pussy, suffocating his massive cock. He groans and moans softly, bucking his hips with more force.

He's desperate to do his favourite thing as of late. Filling up your greedy cunt with his creamy cum. He knows your desperate you are for it too. They way your toes curl right when you orgasm and your body shivers expecting him to finish right with you. You're just waiting for him to cum inside.

This is how you pay your landlord and you're ashamed of it.

The sex was so mind blowing that you never really had the chance to really think about what you were really doing

But in reality your body was being used...used by the most sexiest man you have ever laid eyes on. You find everything about him attractive, to the way he talks to how good he is at aftercare

But you often wonder, how will you ever develop or even create a proper relationship if he only sees you to fuck you, and the way he fucks you makes you incapable to speak after...every single time.

You just wish you had money so you could pay him real payments.

But your a full time college student, broke with no time for a job

You've tried to talk to him about this before but they way he always undresses you with his eyes just makes you forget anything that was ever in your mind.

After he finishes in you, you sigh in relief, maybe now's your chance to talk

"Toji, I-I was thinking about getting a job or something...u-uh so I could like pay you for real"

You don't move to face him. You choose to stay in the ass up face down position he's left you in, he's finally taking his big hands off your poor butt

But he keeps his dick inside of you as he whispers into your ear,

"you're my slut, so I don't need the money"

You do not respond. You're shameless pussy does all the talking instead. It started to pulse and twitch around his dick. Causing him to smirk at your reaction

He starts moving again, this time at a more manageable pace, making you feel every vien on his dick rub inside your walls

But alas, you do not have much strength left as you realiz hands are once again on your back holding you up, preventing you from collapsing

"You get tried so quickly baby...try your best to keep up"

how can he say that while he hasn't given you a proper break since you started??

You are no stranger to Toji's strength, after all he uses so much of it on you. Carrying you bridal style, holding you up against the wall, using his buff arms to trap you close. You can remember many past instances like those. This time you cum again rather quickly. you've lost count of how many orgasms you had.

Because of his semen pooling up in you, his dick is able to reach even deeper, sliding in easily with each thrust

"it's too.. deep" you whine still knowing he will just try harder to go further in

"Where is it?" He asks with a cocky expression

You stick out your ass more as you place your hand on your stomach. You feel the bulge his dick makes. He puts his hand on your hand pressing up on your belly making you whimper.

"Can you feel it better now hmm"

You don't know why but you nod. After seeing you have finally stopped whining a bit he starts talking again in a low voice

"I'm sorry for being rough...honestly I just can't help myself" his voice is so deep and manly you could listen to him talk for hours.

He pulls out and takes a sip of water from the nightstand. He thinks you can't take anymore

Your cheeks blush a dark shade of pink, why does he talk so sweet all of a sudden. You really feel humiliated now.

The whole time you were practically begging him to stop slower and now you want him to continue after he stopped on his own??? After he apologized so sweetly??

Were you that much of a whore that the moment he pulled out, you wish he didn't

He starts kissing you all over your back, trying to get you to face him and lay on your back but you wouldn't budge. He's never really forceful with you, you know his dirty talk is always an act to get you as wet as possible. A trail of his his saliva on your back from affectionate kisses making you feel adored.

You are embarrassed by the fact that you want another round

But you don't know what your doing to him. He's trying his hardest, controlling himself not to put his dick back into your gaping hole filled with his fluids.

He tries to hold himself back instead, continuing to kiss the back of your thighs, moving his face closer and closer to the inside of your legs, inches away from your dripping pussy.

Of course he's teasing you by not let his lips actually reach your needy pussy, but his hot breath on it, is making you squirm underneath his tight embrace

"Toji...can we do it again... please?" you say extremely quietly

He knew you would give in. His dick has stayed rock hard but your words are now making it throb

"you're such a slut for me baby, m'gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna regret asking"

He thrusted in you with so much force, at the same time pulling you towards him to take all of him in at once. Yup, you definitely beileved what he just said.

And so he does as promised and you try your best not to pass out while he fucks you sensless for the remainder of the night😊

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

[luvashli]

MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

Masterlist

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[chuulyssa]

there’s glitter on the floor after the party !

teaser it’s your birthday tonight, but do they remember, or care? pair gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna x reader cw angst, just pure torture™, not proofread !

a/n it’s my birthday on 28th wooohoooo ! i wanted to be a sad girl tho *lana intensifies* let’s hope my parents take some notes and NOT do this

GOJO

for someone who liked cakes, sweets and celebrations so much, you didn’t think it would take this long for satoru to realize what day it was. you didn’t want to remind him either; he should remember it on his own, shouldn’t he? moreover, you had hated the look on his face when you reminded him of the anniversary date the two of you had planned together. he had panicked so hard and begun checking his notes and calendars, it was a pathetic sight, honestly.

“what?” his face had fallen immediately.

“don’t you remember?”

“uh, sweets, what exactly am i supposed to remember?” he had said.

he was just busy. but you had agreed upon this when you began dating him. not everyone was the strongest sorcerer in the world, not everyone had the number of things to do that he did.

“no, it’s fine.”

“you sure?” he had asked.

“yeah, it’s nothing, really.”

but you were quite sure he hadn’t forgotten. not this time. because you had checked in on his calendar a week before this, and today was marked rightly “her birthday” with a shit ton of emojis. so what was taking so long? maybe he was planning a surprise party? whatever it was, you didn’t think the prank needed to be dragged on for so long. since he remembered it, he ought to come out and celebrate already. and if he didn’t, well, whatever. you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when you saw that the party he kept was for someone else, some other girl, no

NANAMI

you’d been waiting for hours at this point. and it was nanami, the kento nanami. kento was never late, how could he be? if there was something he always relied on it was his ability to tell the time, whether it was his refusal to work overtime or his arrival on your dates before you.

so where was he now? he had hurried off in the morning before you had gotten a word out.

“i’m terribly sorry, sweetheart, i have to leave early today,” he had planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“okay, okay,” you had blinked in confusion at his hurry. “where are you going though?”

“i have decided something.”

“decided what?”

he’d sighed cryptically. what was he hiding?

“it’s best if you didn’t know.”

“excuse me?”

he’d shaken his head and just… left? he hadn’t even wished you, not the night before, not the morning after. and just what had he decided? you were hurt, of course you were. where was he going in such a hurry? you had felt he had been growing distant from you for long now. but it did not make the pain of being left alone on your fucking birthday any better. but what could you do either way now? you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when you saw that he had returned to his sorcerer status, and completely abandoned all the plans the two of you had made for your future, no

GETO

he was too in love with his cult to notice, of course he was. suguru dumbass geto. of course it was his cult’s birthday today, who were you even? when he had first told you, to prevent yourself from crashing the fuck out, you had tried to shut up.

“oh.”

“yeah, so are you joining us tonight?” he had asked, as if he was bestowing an honour upon you by inviting you to his stupid party.

“i didn’t know you kept birthdays for your cult, haha,” please get the hint, you had prayed.

“we do, yes. you will join us tonight, hm? i want to take you there as my date.”

“oh, no, no i don’t think i will, actually.”

“huh, why not? you had been looking forward to this day for a long time, hadn’t you?”

yeah, you had. obviously you had. but when you were jumping around two weeks ago talking excitedly about a ‘birthday’, you did not mean it to be his cult’s day. was that too hard to notice? but all was okay, of course. ‘how could you ruin such a long relationship over a forgotten birthday?’ you were sure that’s what the older women of the cult would talk about if they knew. and besides, you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when he had decided to take another woman as his date for the event, showing that you were completely replaceable to him, no

TOJI

he had a mission planned out conveniently at midnight, just when the clock would strike 12 and you’d be a year older. but what could you say? it wasn’t as if it was in his control when someone wanted a person to die or not, he was just the man doing the job.

so you had let it go. one hour, two hours, twelve hours, eighteen hours, where the fuck was he?

“hey, sorry ma,” there was loud cheering from his side of the phone.

“where are you?”

“got this race i wanted to bet on actually—”

“shut up, no seriously, shut the fuck up, toji—”

“what? are you okay?”

“no i’m not, what the fuck—”

there was another cheer of celebration from his side. then silence.

“calm d—”

you hung up. 6pm and he was nowhere. you were sure even if he didn’t pick your call up that time. after this, he would go out drinking with shiu all night long, then come back home drunk and wobbling around, mumbling the tune to ‘happy birthday’ if he realized what day it was, and even then, you thought, you were being too optimistic with that last part. but he was an assassin, and you knew that. didn’t he deserve some happiness in life too? and you, you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when everyone tried to remind him of the day but he was too far gone to know, no

SUKUNA

what did you expect? your chamber to be full of decorations? the dining room to be laid with the most beautiful gifts ever? the corridors to be filled with balloons? though none of that was here, the mere mental image of sukuna blowing up balloons and trying not to pop them with his nails was funny.

funny. everything that could make your mind get off right now was funny. blowing the fire of your candelabrum out, leaving behind just smoke and discomfort. funny. pretending the dinner you had been served for the night was your highly expensive banquet designed just for tonight. funny. acting as if sukuna was right by your side, giggling, as if he didn’t always behave like human traditions meant nothing to him. funny.

“it’s my birthday, you know.”

“birthday? alright. what of it?”

“uh, birthday birthday? shouldn’t you be celebrating it?”

“what is there to celebrate? it is merely a day, no?” he had said it so simply that it made you backtrack.

“yes but—”

“and besides, you are only growing older. it would’ve been remarkable and truly something to celebrate if you had been growing younger by the days,” he chuckled, turning away from you to make his way to the council.

you laughed. funny. he was right though, wasn’t he? you had many other birthdays to celebrate.

not when he knew, he knew and he could not care less, showing his disdain for it too, no

of course, of course you had many other birthdays, many other years yet to come.

but not when it came at the expense of your self-respect, and you had to make a choice between loving and loving yourself, no

[4mrplumi]

It would be interesting to see more of your thoughts on Luka!reader just to give us scraps

ALSO! I love your crow choir and scavenger works

🎼 hehe, sure thing, and thank you :3 here are a few notes i'd made over after and before weige!! (sorry for the late reply, had a few tests!)

pre-stage public view

⋆. luka!reader's very charming. the batfamily's public personas are really a civillian identity to fall back on outside of vigilantism, but because luka!reader is not a vigilante, this is their life.

⋆. there are points at which when bruce doesn't come to galas, luka!reader shows up in his place. after a point, their invitations are seperate from bruce's.

⋆. luka!reader has their own little social circle, fairly friendly and responsible for keeping relations between wayne industries and other companies more passive than they would've been otherwise.

⋆. not that bruce wayne knows of your efforts.

⋆. where the head of the wayne household is described as a playboy, with curling words and charm luka!reader is a bit more reserved. softer smiles, complacent demeanor, often more agreeable.

⋆. definitely has fans. i mean, with their reputation as a famous child star - to - wayne family member, it's expected people are interested in their story. after numerous cover-ups and made up stories by bruce in the early days, these interests from the media are quelled, but it doesn't stop people from being fans.

⋆. how is the wayne family treated by the media? i mean, they're famous because of wayne industries, but treated a lot like movie celebrities. i imagine that's specially a case for luka!reader too.

⋆. very few drama articles on them, excluding sightings with people that are morphed into rumors. the type of person even someone's grandma really likes to see on tv!

⋆. overall, people are pretty fond of luka!reader. among both business partners, the media, and gotham's non-criminal civilian population. close to the point where (name)updates79 made a youtube conspiracy theory video on how you're "the scarecrow but nice, hypnotic powers to make people like you".

⋆. (they had to take the video down and apologise, insisting they were so obviously a fan too and didn't mean it in a bad way. of course you're not using powers to make people like you, that's dumb and negligent of your efforts over the years.)

⋆. (this becomes a running joke after the initial faux "drama" is over, like the cyclops os batman's mentor thing here.)

pre-stage private view

⋆. you make them uneasy, full stop.

⋆. there's not much you have in common with your family, lacking both the spurn for dressing up and fighting at night, and the hyper-intelligence to help make suits or coordinate their movements.

⋆. after joining the wayne family, you weren't really ever made aware of their activities. you found out only after cassandra cain came into the picture, dully connecting the dots after glancing over her behavior with the others, slowly.

⋆. yeah, it was a surprise, but you don't much care do you?

⋆. rich people must get real bored when they can do just about anything else they want to do.

⋆. at home, your behavior is much different. you don't talk much at all, incredibly quiet and expressionless. when you do have to interact with them, there's no hostility or harshness in your tone, but there's a very low undercurrent of this unamused dryness in your voice.

⋆. it makes them uneasy, maybe offended, maybe just dismissive alltogether. you don't know what they think, you don't know them at all.

⋆. other than financial support and the initial work bruce put into making sure your transfer to the wayne manor went uninvestigated, you don't have any support to fall onto.

⋆. one could argue you're emotionally stunted, but that's not really the case. you are observant, managing to put yourself in other people's shoes without any internal bias at all. an empath? maybe.

⋆. this maturity helps you build up the blocks to your social status, using the hints from peoples' mannerisms to weave through conversations in a way you know will make you more favourable.

⋆. never to say you didn't try to be a part of their family, but you know you barely are.

⋆. luka!reader's taken into the family before jason, about a year older than him too. the whole parenting stunt was new to bruce, but he did try, you want to think. you were just not perfect enough. if you're better, he'll notice you.

⋆. luka!reader is capable of identifying other people's flaws, the emotional drive behind actions and how they'd solve it if they were in that person's shoes. but they can rarely manage themselves, despite the calm image they present.

⋆. when you were younger, you tried to communicate with bruce, your new father, and your older brother richard, but they always seemed busy or perturbed. you didn't know about their vigilante duties or how fame up here worked. you'd assumed you were doing something wrong, and like with your old dad, tried to rectify your mistakes.

⋆. it sent you into a small spiral. you were so young, lost, lonely, homesick and confused. where you should've gotten consolation and guidance to fit into an actual society, you were instead left out and dismissed.

⋆. socially incapable? very. dick tried to be welcoming, but he was just so unsure of what to do with your blank stare and awkward conversations, he slowly drifted away. bruce was stiff altogether, sending you off to your room when you went to him, busy.

⋆. there is a measure for perfection, is what your old father had told you, and it was your duty to meet it. if the people in your family don't support your pursuit, then they are incompetent and upsettingly unaware of their limits.

⋆. pushing away years of bitterness and unsourced grief at how lonely you are, you redirect your focus. you already had a life planned out for you then, why can't you pursue it now?

⋆. they won't notice. they don't know a thing about perfection.

post-stage private

⋆. on one end, the family's incredibly overcome with guilt for not even noticing where you were, and on the other; they're entirely horrified by your willing presence there.

⋆. three different views are made clear: walking on eggshells (cassandra, jason), trying to get closer to you (dick, duke) trying to figure you out (tim, damian and barbara). and then there's bruce, the ever persistent multitasker in him trying to do everything at once. you catch onto their efforts pretty easily, only scoffing and retreating into your room when they get too irritating.

⋆. it's almost worse than your situation before, they're still incapable of understanding your intentions and you as a person, but much more clingy and watchful. it's a bit suffocating, and you try to shoo them off by indulging them just enough to satisfy their curiosity.

⋆. unlucky for you, the family sees that as developments in your relationship with them. a little more intrusive each time, including you wherever they can.

⋆. it's a messed up mix of genuine concern and care, with suspicion and supervision very sneakily mixed in. you don't miss it.

⋆. behavior wise, there's a new sharpness to your personality that wasn't there before. a little haunted, lost and child-like, but most importantly, infuriated. they can't put their finger on it, so it must've been a result of the things you went through in the stage.

⋆. yeah, must be.

a/n: luka!reader is a little similar to scavenger!reader in some ways, the second is just way more personally motivated and mean. i one day want to expand on other alien stage readers / other fandom readers but i'm slow on that right now. feel free to send it asks and ideas ♡ ♡

thank you for reading!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: I need the weekend to come so I can cum

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Things aren't too bad. Not since I got my ass kicked," Vaughn chortles. "Mighta knocked some sense into this thick skull at last."

"Hopefully," you agree. "Mom said--"

"I tried calling. She didn't pick up."

"Oh..."

"Why-- Why should I even bother?" His humour fades to hostility, "and why are you acting like you're my mother? When she does answer, she just calls me a fuck up. Like I don't fucking know."

"Vaughn," you hum, "please, I'm not trying to piss you off."

"But you are," he snarls. "Always gotta ruin a good time, don't ya?"

You frown. This is the Vaughn you don't know. The one with the anger like a grenade pin. One tug and it's over. You sit back and wait. Arguing only fuels the flames.

"You're the one person who's s'posed to believe in me and you're nagging me about mom," he snarls.

You look away guiltily. You wonder how he'd react if you told him about Steve. If you mentioned that the reason things 'aren't too bad' is because you did something just as stupid as him. Somehow, you don't think that him knowing you do dumb stuff too will help.

He tugs at his cuffs. The guards come forward. You say his name again.

"Vaughn, please--"

"Piss off! Yeah, you meat head, get me outta here," he turns his wrath on the guard. "Waste of my time."

"Please, I didn't-- I just--"

"I told you not to talk about it no more," he barks. He did. You didn't listen.

Your eyes well. You don't know what happened to him. Where did all this anger come from? As you watch the guards unhook him and he stomps away, you can only think you may have made a good decision talking to Steve. At least there's someone in there who can help. Or try to.

You wiggle your nose and dab your eyes with your knuckle. That was embarrassing as much as it was scary. The guard on the other side returns.

"We'll bring the next early, miss."

"Thanks," you nod. You recognise him. You realise most of the guards must know your face too. It's so strange to think this is a normal part of your life now. That this has become your social life as late.

It isn't long before Steve appears. He sits calmly lets himself be leashed. He leans forward and takes the receiver. You still have yours in hand but it's against the table. You lift it.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He purrs.

Your cheeks draw tight, "how are you?"

"Mm," he narrows his eyes as he looks you over. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Steve," you swallow the dregs of your tears. "Really. It was an early morning."

He stares a little longer, the lines deepening in his forehead. His eyes meet yours. His aquamarine irises are speckled with gold and silver. He takes a breath and tuts.

"You were crying."

"No, Steve, it's nothing."

"That brat brother of yours," he nods as his expression turns dangerous.

"Please, Steve, not you too. Okay? It's... a sibling spat. That's all," you assure him. You wish you were as transparent as the window between you.

"I don't like that. I had family coming to see me, I'd be nice," he snarls.

"It's not your problem."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You made it my problem when you started coming around." He insists.

You chew your lip, "I know..."

"I'm not complaining, so you know," he leans back. "Kinda used to ya now."

"Thanks," you utter grimly and stare at the desk.

"Hey," he says and your eyes flick back up. "I didn't drag myself out here to see you mope."

You swallow and push away the rest of your chagrin, "sorry, I... better?"

"How can that face get any better?" He winks. You squirm.

He's been more forward lately. You assure yourself that it's just him playing with you. He's bored and you're the only person he talks to that isn't a guard or an inmate.

"That's... Right. Um, I guess it was dumb to ask how it's going," you scoff at yourself.

"It's going good, now I'm here," he runs his hand over his mouth, feeling his cheeks, "fresh shave this morning. Looking good, huh?"

You let your eyes focus. You can tell. His chiseled jaw is bare, not one speck of stubble. And his blond hair is parted and combed back. It's getting a bit long.

"You look refreshed."

"Well, I got something coming up later today."

"Another visitor?" You wonder.

"Lawyer," he shrugs. "No big thing. I got business on the outside still. Power of attorney or whatever."

"Mm," you hum.

"Boring stuff. What about you? Besides that idiot you call a brother, how's life?"

"It's life," you say. "Go to work, come home, sleep, it's all the same."

"Huh, sounds like being in here," he snorts. "Lonely?"

You don't realise at first, he's asking.

"I guess. Thought about getting a cat."

"Ah, you're young. Probably wait a few years before that," he chirps.

You tilt your head wryly, "no harm starting early."

"You're funny, sweetheart."

"Am I?" You wonder dryly.

"Well, the things they think are funny in here..." he makes a face. "You know, I wouldn't tell a lady all that, but it's low brow."

"Right."

"I'm still trying to figure you out, you know? Your brother, well, not to pile on top but he's not exactly a model citizen, but you, you're practical, considerate, you make stuffed chicken and pesto. I can't help but wonder how you're not adopted," he snickers.

"Life is strange."

"Isn't it? Never saw some girl knocking on my cell door but here we are," he drawls.

"Here we are," you agree. He smiles and bites his thumb. You shift as his eyes sparkle.

"I might never get outta of this place, but at least I can see a pretty face now and again," he growls.

Yep, at least he'll never get out. You just need to hope Vaughn doesn't get any time added and it will all be over soon. 

⛓️‍💥

It's the first night Steve doesn't call. You're a bit disturbed by how it seems to throw the whole evening off. It's not like you're friends. He's an obligation. You should be happy to have one less thing on your plate.

You take a long bath, your phone on the back of the toilet, the ringer set to chirp. But it doesn't. The soak isn't enough to ease your nerves.

If something happened to him, what about Vaughn? It's a selfish worry but you can't help it. How could that even happen? Steve has this invincibility about him. You just can't believe it.

You get out and dry yourself off slowly. You're achy from sitting on your ass all day. Admin work isn't very thrilling. You stretch and rub the cushion of your bottom, the muscles easing beneath the layer of padding. You've always had a bit extra. It never bothered you as much as it bothers men. Your brother used to beat up any guy he heard hurling insults at you.

It's not your biggest care in the world. You tend to eat those away. Your sweet tooth hardly helps.

You put on a night shirt and lay awake for a while. Even when you do sleep, it's not peaceful. You dream of iron bars and blood on the floor. You wake with a thumping in your temples.

You dress for work. Your stretch-waist grey pants and the silk blouse with roses on the collar. You pack your lunch and brew your coffee, honey and a dash of almond milk splashed in. You leave with your bag and thermos.

The traffic around the clinic is always clogged. You get in with two minutes to spare. You sit behind the window and the phone rings as soon as opening hour strikes. You're swept up in the demands of patients and doctors alike. One thing you can't complain for how quickly the days fly.

You eat your lunch in your car. You cherish the moments you're not surrounded by sniffling, coughing, and complaining. You head back in and finish the last half, yawning at the monitor.

It's even busier when you pull out into the street. You let the music flow into your ears and distract you. You tap the pedal as you slog along. Finally, you get to a side street and cut a zig zag across town. You pull up to your building and linger in your car.

You have this eerie feeling. You glance over at the unfamiliar car parked facing the brick. The sleek white muscle car is vintage and polished to a shine. Someone loves that thing.

You get out of your dusty Honda and snatch your bag from the passenger's seat. You tap your fob and enter through the side. You stop before the elevator and turn back. You should at least try to get a few steps in. You take the stairs.

You stare at your pointed flats as you drag your soles over the carpet. You smother a yawn behind your hand. A throat clears. You move over, thinking someone's coming your way. You stir in your bag for your keys. Your name brings your chin up.

You gasp and drop your keys. You teeter as you nearly spin and sprint away. Your bag slips and you barely catch the strap. You gape at Steve as he stands beside your door.

Silence wafts around you with the smell of cooking and laundry. He holds a bouquet of classic red roses. He sports a tailored suit in black that puts his prison uniform to shame. The collar is crisp and the tie perfectly knotted. His jawline is shaved and his hair is styled down to the strand.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets with a smirk.

You wordlessly bend to pick up your keys then stand and fix your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes glaze in disbelief and horror. A million questions flurry to a storm of terror.

"How..."

"Appeal went through. They turned over my conviction," he struts away from the wall. "These are for you, sweetheart."

You look at the petals then at him as he comes close. Your shoulders sag as you shrink down at the breadth of his shadow. He's even bigger like that. You shudder, the lack of barrier unsettling.

"I got you speechless," he intones and grabs the strap of your bag. "Look like you had a long day, let me take a load off."

He takes your bag then guides your hand to the bouquet. You close your mouth and gulp. He sweeps away your keys and hooks his arm through yours. You let him lead you to the door of your apartment. He swings it open and you flinch.

"Wait, Steve, how did you-- how do you know where I live?" You quaver.

"Told you, I got friends on the outside. You don't think I'd leave you unprotected--"

"Wait, wait," you plead as you face him, untangling your arm from his. "How is this real? How are you here? How- Why-- You don't think--"

"I think I spent months talking to you and you spent the same time coming to me. It's not what I think, it's what I know," he insists. You choke.

If his conviction was flipped, maybe that means he isn't so bad. No, no, you heard of what he did in there. He's dangerous. Whether he did what the court said he didn't or not.

He waves you in, "come on, we can take it slow. We'll talk, like old times."

You shake your head but enter. You see no other choice. You're too stunned to think of any.

He follows and pulls the key free of the door before shutting it. He hangs them on the little hook beside the frame. He faces you as you focus on slipping off your flats. He puts your bag on the top of the small shelf where you store your mitts and whatnot.

He whistles, "you look... good. I mean, I never got the full angle." He steps back and you feel him raking you with his eyes. "Got a nice shape..."

"Steve," you snap and face him. "I... I never..." you pace yourself and take a breath. "The flowers are lovely, thank you. And I appreciate you coming by but I think there's a bit of a miscommunication." You turn and slowly inch away. You spin around as he watches you, his expression betraying nothing. "I only talked to you to keep Vaughn safe."

He sighs and his eyes narrow. His brows tilt slightly and his jaw squares. He nods and smooths the front of his jacket.

"Well, sweetheart, I went and got a new suit for you."

"I'm sorry--"

"No, get this," he strides forward and stops before you. "Whether it was for me, for you, or for that scum you call a brother, it happened and it's not over. You got me? I might be out but I got men inside. Men who are willing to do a lot worse than me," he snarls.

You shudder and he grabs your chin. You whimper. "I wanna be nice to you, sweetheart. That's all I've been dreaming of. I went out, got all dressed up, got you flowers, now you do me a favour, go put a dress on so I can take you out for dinner." He sniffs and squeezes just until your jaw throbs, "see, I'm still doing stuff for you. I'm not asking much except you to come out and look pretty."

He lets go and you stagger back. You sniffle and quickly hide your face. Your voice comes out hoarse, "I'll put these in water first."

Your heart races and you go into the kitchen. You find a vase and focus on filling it. You put the flowers in and toss the paper cone. He looms in the doorway.

"I'll find something to put on, okay?" Your voice cracks.

You cross the kitchen and he stays firmly in your path. He brings his knuckle up under your chin and forces your face up.

"Smile, sweetheart," he growls. "We're together. At last."

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: UNSPOKEN

paige x azzi

word count: 10.8k

A/N: Alright this one is a little different from what I usually do. I was struggling with ideas so I decided to try to mix it up 🫣. I also know everyone thinks Paige fell first so I wanted to switch it up a little bit in this. Let me know what you guys think please 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

“Unspoken” is a story about the quiet tension between two people who’ve spent years running from the truth—because sometimes, love isn’t about grand declarations or perfect timing. Sometimes, it’s about the fights, the moments when words fail, and the painful silence that surrounds all the things we’re too afraid to say.

Paige and Azzi had been best friends for as long as they can remember, but somewhere along the way, things started to change. The friendship they shared slowly morphed into something more complicated, something neither of them was ready to admit. The arguments, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, all became the backdrop for the truth they weren’t brave enough to confront.

This is the story of the moments that broke them down and built them up again—of the words that should have been said and those that should’ve never been spoken, the love that was hidden beneath the surface, and the way they both had to learn to fight for each other. Through every argument, every misstep, and every tear, they would come to realize one simple thing: they were in love with each other, and no amount of fear or uncertainty could change that.

These are the fights, the messy situations, that led them to the one thing they never expected to find—each other:

3rd Person POV - 2018 (DMV)

Azzi was sitting cross-legged on her bed, leaning back against the headboard while Paige lay sprawled on the floor, tossing a basketball in the air and catching it with lazy precision. Soft music was playing from Azzi’s speaker, filling the comfortable silence between them.

“You know,” Azzi said as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone, “I still don’t get how you eat so much junk and don’t feel like absolute trash afterward.” She was referencing how Paige didn’t seem to follow any diet, didn’t eat any vegetables, and just consumed whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Paige snorted, keeping her eyes on the ball as she flicked it up again. “I’m built different.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “That’s not a real answer.”

“It is if you accept it.”

Azzi grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her, but it landed nowhere near Paige causing the blonde to laugh while still focused on the ball. “You’re annoying,” Azzi muttered.

“Whatever bro. Why you beg me to come visit you then?”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “Clearly I gotta start setting higher standards for my friends.”

“Best friend,” Paige corrected.

Azzi grinned but didn’t argue. They’d been calling each other best friends since they met on Team USA, but sometimes—more recently than before–there was something underneath it that neither of them acknowledged. A weight in the way they talked to one another on FaceTime every night, the way they never went a day without talking, a different kind of warmth in the way they looked at each other.

In the midst of their conversation Paige’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again. She didn’t even glance at it, but Azzi heard it. “Damn,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Who's blowing you up?”

Paige kept her focus on the ball. “Dunno.”

Azzi smirked. “What, you too famous to check your phone now?”

Paige caught the ball and held it against her stomach, hesitating just long enough for Azzi to pick up on it.

Azzi sat up a little. “Wait. Who is it?”

Paige took a long exhale, staring at the ceiling for a second before mumbling, “It’s probably this girl.”

Azzi blinked. “This girl?”

Paige pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Yeah, prolly. She got my number from somebody and she just been texting me lately.”

Azzi’s lips twitched, her smirk faltering for just a second before she masked it with a laugh. “Ohhh, so Paige Bueckers has a girl on her line.” She nudged Paige’s leg with her foot. “Who is she?”

Paige shrugged. “Just someone I met at a tournament.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Do you like her or something?”

Paige shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t know. No?”

Azzi’s expression shifted slightly. The teasing edge in her voice was still there, but it didn’t quite match what was reflected in her eyes. “Wait, you actually want to talk to her?”

Paige frowned a little confused now. “I mean… I don’t not want to.”

Azzi scoffed quietly, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Azzi said quickly, a little too quickly. She flopped back against her pillows, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

Paige wasn’t buying it. “No, what was that?”

“Paige, nothing,” Azzi repeated.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Azzi come on bro.”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I just—why are you even telling me this?”

Paige frowned. “Because you’re my best friend? I tell you everything.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Best friend. Got it.”

Something about the way she said it made Paige’s stomach twist. She wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, the room felt… different. Tense. Like they had stepped too close to a line neither of them had ever acknowledged before.

“Why are you acting weird?” Paige asked, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Azzi let out a breath. “Maybe because I just don’t want to hear about some girl trying to get with you.”

Silence. It felt like the silence between them stretched for an eternity.

The air between them was thick with a weight that neither of them had ever experienced when talking to one another. Azzi looked like she had just said something she wasn’t supposed to, and Paige—Paige couldn’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Paige finally spoke, her voice much quieter than it usually is.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t. It’s just—you always say you don’t like distractions, but now some random girl is blowing up your phone, and you don’t mind?”

Paige frowned. “That’s not what I said Az.”

“It kinda is.”

Paige sat up now, her eyes slightly narrowed because of Azzi’s coldness. “Bro why you acting like I did something wrong? I was just tryna talk to you about it.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Like I want to hear about how some girl who's in the same state as you is into you and has been blowing your phone up.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know why, but the way Azzi was speaking made her chest feel tight. “So, what? I’m just not supposed to talk to you about stuff like this?”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “No, maybe not.”

Paige blinked. “Azzi that’s ridiculous. We tell each other everything.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe not everything.”

That hit Paige harder than she expected. She stared at Azzi, frustration bubbling under her skin. Azzi was her best friend. The one person in the world she felt like she could share anything with—who understood the pressure she felt everyday, was sitting here telling her that maybe they should stop telling each other everything. “Why are you being so weird about this? I didn’t do anything.”

Azzi’s head moved toward her direction. “I’m not being weird, Paige. I just—” She cut herself off, exhaling before pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “You don’t get it.”

Paige threw her hands up. “No, I clearly don’t, so explain it to me! Because I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers picking at the blanket. Her expression was unreadable—like she was fighting with herself, torn between saying something and holding it back.

Paige pushed. “Azzi please.”

Azzi’s eyes met hers, and for the first time that night, she looked vulnerable. Exposed.

“You don’t get it,” Azzi said, softer this time, “because you don’t see the way anyone looks at you.” Azzi wasn’t just talking about other people. Paige had always had this pull, this undeniable presence that filled every room she stepped into. The way she carried herself, how naturally charismatic and genuine she was, made it impossible not to look. And people did look.

Azzi was no different. But Paige never seemed to notice.

Paige’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Azzi sighs, shaking her head. “Everyone wants a piece of you, Paige. In whatever way they can get you. Girls, guys, everyone.

Paige swallowed, her confusion giving way to an excitement at the possibility of what Azzi was insinuating. “Azzi…”

Azzi eyes flickering with something Paige couldn’t place. “I don’t want to hear about some girl trying to talk to you because I hate the idea of you talking to someone else.”

Paige’s heart pounded. She felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under her, like something she had been ignoring for months had just been shoved in her face.

She barely had time to process it, to respond properly before Azzi let out a shaky breath and muttered, “Forget it. Just—just ignore me.”

But Paige didn’t want to forget it, she couldn’t. Because suddenly, everything made sense—suddenly she didn’t feel like she was making things up in her head.

The lingering looks. The teasing that always felt a little too real.

Without thinking about the possible repercussions, Paige moved. One second, she was sitting on the floor staring at Azzi, heart racing, and the next, she was in front of her leaning in, closing the space between them.

Azzi inhaled sharply, her lips parting just slightly. For a split second, Azzi looked like she was going to pull away.

But then Paige kissed her.

It was hesitant, completely unsure, but the second their lips touched, something clicked. Like a spark igniting, like the answer to a question neither of them had been willing to ask.

Azzi sucked in a breath, and just for a second she kissed Paige back. But just as quickly as it happened, Azzi pulled away, eyes wide.

When she saw Azzi’s reaction Paige’s heart pounded, immediately throwing out, “I—I don’t know why I did that.”

Azzi swallowed, looking just as lost. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They stared at each other.

Finally, Paige let out a weak laugh. “Let’s just forget it.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding. “Yeah…Forget it.”

3rd Person POV - May 2020 (DMV)

It was the middle of quarantine, and time felt like it barely existed. Days blurred into nights, and the weeks passed without much distinction. Paige had been staying with Azzi and her family for a while now.

They had fallen into an easy rhythm. Workouts in the driveway, endless hours of TV, late-night talks in Azzi’s bed. There were also the moments in between now—those fleeting, stolen seconds where a look lingered too long, where an innocent touch didn’t quite feel so innocent. It had started slowly, almost accidental. A brush of hands, an arm around a shoulder that didn’t move away. Then one night, Paige kissed her again. And Azzi kissed her back.

Since then, it has been happening more often. Just making out here and there, like something they could pick up and drop whenever they wanted. But they never talked about it.

Now, they were lying in Azzi’s bed, bodies tangled in the way that came with knowing each other too well. Azzi’s head rested on Paige’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing the blanket while Paige was trying to spin the ball on her finger, though she was being extra careful considering Azzi was laying on her.

“You suck at that, by the way,” Azzi mumbled, watching the ball wobble slightly in Paige’s grip.

Paige scoffed. “You literally couldn’t do this for more than two seconds without launching it across the room.”

Azzi laughed. “That’s because I actually put some power into it. You’re just throwing it up like you’re scared it’s gonna fight back.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying sometimes, you know that?”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly so she was looking up at Paige. “Yeah, but you love me anyway so I don’t really care.”

Paige froze for half a second before shaking her head, trying to play it off. “Debatable.”

Azzi laughed softly, but Paige didn’t miss the way her fingers stopped moving against the blanket when Paige froze. The pause lasted a little too long, and Paige suddenly felt like she should say something else—something light, something easy—but before she could, her phone buzzed in quick succession from somewhere on the floor.

Azzi turned her head toward the sound. “Damn. Someone’s popular.”

Paige didn’t even glance at it, still looking at Azzi. “It’s nothing.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know who it is.”

Paige shrugged. “If it was important, they’d call.”

Azzi watched her for a second, then turned her attention back to the ceiling. “Right. Or maybe it’s one of the many people who have been blowing up your comments lately.”

All of a sudden this conversation felt like deja vu and it made Paige’s stomach churn.

Paige sighed, rubbing her temple. “Azzi—”

Azzi kept going, her tone meant to be teasing, but there was something more serious beneath it that Paige picked up on. “I mean, I get it. UConn’s gonna be a whole new world for you. New team, new people, new girls—”

Paige groaned. “Bro oh my God.”

Azzi tilted her head again, keeping her voice light but her eyes too focused. “What? You’re telling me you’re not looking forward to all the attention you’re about to get?”

Paige sighed, gripping the basketball a little tighter. “I don’t care about allat.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

Paige frowned. “I don’t.”

Azzi changed her position slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she looked at Paige. “So you’re telling me you don’t like all the attention? The DMs, the comments, the girls who’ve never met you throwing themselves at you?”

Paige let out a short laugh, not out of amusement but frustration. “Azzi, come on—”

“No, seriously.” Azzi’s voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something Paige couldn’t quite place. “You’re not gonna sit here and act like you don’t eat that shit up.”

Paige gave her a confused look. “You act like I’m out here entertaining them. I’ve never responded to any of them.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not shutting them down either, so you clearly want it.”

Paige let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Come on Azzi, you’re my best friend, you know me better than that.”

Azzi scoffed, sitting up fully now, her back against the headboard. “Right.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi looked at her. “It means I don’t know what the hell we’re doing anymore.”

Paige sat up fully too, the ball rolling off the bed as she turned to face Azzi. “What you mean?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Paige’s chest tightened, frustration building. “Get what? That you’re mad at me for something I didn’t even do? Something you think I might do?”

Azzi shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not mad at you, Paige. I just—” She exhaled. “Forget it.”

“No.” Paige’s voice was more firm now, her heartbeat picking up. “You don’t get to start something and then back out.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered with anger. “Oh, I’m the one starting something and backing out?” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s ironic.”

Paige groaned, throwing her head back. “Azzi, just talk to me instead of throwing around all this cryptic shit.”

Azzi held her gaze for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, before she could stop herself, she said it. “We keep kissing, Paige. We kiss a lot actually.”

Silence. Paige felt her stomach drop, her mouth suddenly dry.

Azzi shook her head, looking away—she couldn’t look at Paige while she said this. “And we never talk about it. We act like it doesn’t mean anything, and maybe to you, it doesn’t, but I—” She stopped herself, exhaling through her nose. “I just don’t get how you can sit here and act like none of it matters.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Azzi that’s not—”

Azzi turned back to her, her voice quieter now. “You’re leaving soon. And once you go, this—whatever this is, whatever we’re doing—it’s over, right?”

Paige’s throat felt tight, but she forced the words out anyway. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Azzi let out a long breath, shaking her head. “What does that mean, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “It means we don’t have to stop just because I’m going to UConn.”

Azzi scoffed. “Right. So what? You want to keep doing what exactly? Keep flirting with me, kissing me but then pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

Paige’s frustration spiked. “I never said it didn’t mean anything.”

“You sure as hell act like it.”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exhaling. “Az, I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something for once instead of just kissing me and pretending it never happened.” Azzi’s voice was rising now, her usual calmness slipping. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending like it’s normal to make out with my best friend one second and then act like nothing happened the next.”

Paige shook her head. “You think this is easy for me?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah. It must be so hard for you, Paige. Having somebody, with no labels, to makeout with whenever you want is so fucking hard. Meanwhile, I’m the one sitting here wondering if I’m just another one of your little distractions before you leave.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “That’s not fair. It’s not like that.”

Azzi stared at her. “Isn’t it?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. The air between them was tense, heavy with something unsaid, something neither of them had been brave enough to confront.

Finally, Paige exhaled, her voice quieter now. “Azzi, you’re not just—” She swallowed. “You’re not just some distraction.”

Azzi searched her face, eyes flickering between Paige’s. “Then what am I?”

Paige opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because she didn’t have an answer—at least, not one that wouldn’t change everything.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

Paige let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi please, come on.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “No. I’m done guessing, Paige.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over. “I don’t know how to say it, okay?”

“Say what, Paige?”

Paige clenched her jaw, her voice rising. “That I don’t want to leave! That I don’t want things to change! That I—” She cut herself off, exhaling hard.

Azzi’s gaze stayed locked on her, daring her to finish. “That you what?”

Paige shook her head, her pulse hammering. “I don’t know.”

Azzi threw her hands up. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You do know, Paige, you just don’t want to say it.”

Paige’s face burned with frustration. “Because once I do, it means something, Azzi. And I don’t—I don’t know how to deal with that. You barely know how to deal with it so you’re putting it on me.”

Azzi scoffed. “So instead, you’d rather just ignore it? Pretend like nothing’s happening between us?”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exasperated. “It’s not like that.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “Then what’s it like?”

Paige opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. She could feel it—all of it—boiling just under the surface, but every time she tried to pull it out, to say what she knew Azzi needed to hear, something inside her locked up.

Azzi shook her head. “You’re being a coward Paige.”

Paige’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Azzi didn’t back down. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No? Then prove me wrong.”

Paige’s frustration snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Before she could stop herself, she was closing the distance between them, her hand gripping the back of Azzi’s neck as she pushed their lips together.

Azzi kissed back for a moment—just a moment—before she abruptly pushed Paige away, her breath coming fast. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

Paige looked stunned, her lips still tingling, her chest tight. “Azzi—”

“No,” Azzi snapped. “You don’t get to kiss me just to shut me up Paige. That’s not how this shit works.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard. “That’s not what I was doing, Azzi.”

“Really? Because that’s what it feels like. Every time we get remotely close to actually talking about this, you do something like that.”

Paige sighed. “I don’t know how to talk about this, baby.”

Azzi’s gaze softened for a split second before she shook her head. “Then figure it out, Paige. Because I can’t keep being the only one who actually wants to face it.”

Paige’s frustration cracked, desperation creeping into her voice. “I do want to face it—I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Then say something, Paige. Say anything that actually means something instead of trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”

Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to leave and pretend none of this ever happened. I don’t want you to think you’re just some—some phase or some mistake—some distraction.” She inhaled, her voice softer now. “I don’t want to lose you, Azzi.”

Azzi’s expression faltered for just a second before she let out a slow breath. “Paige…”

Paige shook her head, her chest tightening. “I just—I know I’m scared, Az. And shit’s about to be so different. I’m about to be in a different state, away from my family…away from you. There’s all these expectations and I haven’t even gotten on campus yet and I just—I need you Az. I need you more than anything and I’m scared that shit’s going to change between us, get weird and I can’t…I won’t be able to handle this without my best friend so I’ve just been—”

A sudden knock on the door cut her off.

Azzi’s mom’s voice came from the other side. “Everything okay in there?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off Paige. “Yes we’re fine.”

A brief pause. Then, “You sure? I heard yelling.”

Azzi sighed. “Mom, please.”

Silence. Then fading footsteps.

Azzi barely waited before she kissed Paige softly, melting into her.

3rd Person POV - October 2020 (Connecticut)

Azzi hadn’t planned on coming to Connecticut. At least, not until a few days ago when the idea of not being with Paige on her birthday started gnawing at her. The two of them talked every day, missed each other like crazy. Yes things were still… undefined. A mess of feelings that they had only began to sort through.

But none of that mattered right now. Because she was here.

Azzi pushed open the door to Ted’s, the warmth and noise of the packed bar hitting her immediately. She hadn’t even told Paige she was coming—she wanted to surprise her, wanted to see the look on her face when she realized Azzi had shown up for her birthday.

But the moment she stepped inside, her stomach twisted.

Paige was by the bar, a drink in her hand, laughter carrying over the music. She looked good—too good—her head tilted back slightly as she smiled at something one of her teammates said, Evina, if Azzi remembers correctly. But it wasn’t her teammates that caught Azzi’s attention. It was the other girls around her.

They were close. Too close.

One of them leaned into Paige clearly trying to get any form of contact she could from the blonde. Another one saying something to Paige, making her chuckle and shake her head no.

Azzi felt something burn in her chest.

She had spent the last few weeks missing Paige so much it physically hurt—she thought Paige was in the same boat. They called whenever they could, they texted, they danced around what they were, never putting a real label on it but still knowing, deep down, that whatever this was—it was real.

Yet, here was Paige, letting random girls touch her like it was nothing. Like they were nothing. In her anger Azzi didn’t even see the way Paige completely lit up when she noticed Azzi standing by the door. She didn’t notice that Paige immediately started walking towards her without even a whisper of an excuse to anyone around her.

Without thinking, Azzi turned on her heel and pushed back out the door.

“Azzi!”

Her heart clenched at the sound of her name, but she kept walking.

“Azzi, wait!”

Footsteps echoed against the pavement, and before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to stop.

Azzi exhaled harshly, staring straight ahead. “Go back inside, Paige.”

Paige stepped in front of her, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why did you leave?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Are you serious?”

Paige’s expression flickered. “Azzi, it’s not what you think.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having a pretty grand time.”

Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “They were just talkin to me.”

“Right.” Azzi shook her head, stepping back. “Just talking.”

Paige sighed, frustrated. “Yes Azzi, just talking. Why you acting like this? I'm happy to see you and you mad at me.”

Azzi shook her head as she started walking again.

Paige groaned again, stumbling slightly as she tried to step closer. "Azzi, come on." She reached for her, but Azzi sidestepped her touch.

"Don't."

Paige frowned, her drunk mind struggling to keep up. "Come on baby, why you so mad?"

Azzi scoffed. "Are you serious right now? You’re in there letting random girls be all over you, and I’m just supposed to be fine with it?"

Paige let out an exasperated laugh. "I wasn't letting them be all over me!"

Azzi crossed her arms. "Ohhh right, so they just tripped and landed on you?"

Paige rolled her eyes. "You’re blowing this out of proportion."

Azzi’s expression darkened. "No, I’m not."

Paige tried to reach for her again, but Azzi stepped back, hands pushing her away softly. "Azzi, stop pushing me."

"Then stop trying,".

Paige swayed slightly, blinking at her. "I’m just tryna get close to you. I miss you."

Azzi scoffed. "No, you want to charm your way out of this like you always do."

Paige let out a huff. "God, why are you making this such a big deal?"

Azzi’s eyes flashed before she took a breath to calm herself down. "Because you don’t take any of this seriously, Paige! You never do! You’re drunk and now you’re out here stumbling around to who knows where—"

Paige threw her hands up. "I’ve done a drunk walk around the block enough times to know where I’m going, Azzi."

"That’s not the flex you think it is, P."

Paige narrowed her eyes at her. "Why are you even here if you're just gonna yell at me?"

Azzi turned away again, but this time, Paige grabbed her arm.

"Azzi, please," Paige murmured, her grip tightening slightly.

Azzi clenched her jaw, as she looked at Paige not saying anything.

Paige let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t care about any of those girls, Az! I keep telling you that.”

“Really? Because it sure as hell didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”

Paige groaned, stepping closer again, ignoring the way Azzi kept putting space between them. “I wasn’t flirting with them! I was just talking. You’re acting like I was all over them.”

Azzi shot her a look. “It doesn’t matter if you weren’t all over them. They were all over you, and you just let it happen.”

Paige threw her hands up. “What did you want me to do? Shove them off me?”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re playing dumb.”

Paige shot back, “You’re the one who wanted to keep things open, remember? You said we should just see what happens—”

“And you agreed.”

Paige laughed. “Yeah, because that’s clearly what you wanted Azzi! But you’re standing here acting like I betrayed you or something.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed. “Because it feels like you did Paige!”

Paige’s chest rose and fell, her mind spinning, the alcohol making her words looser, her emotions heavier. “Azzi, I love you.”

Azzi froze for a long time. The silence stretched between them.

Finally she exhaled, shaking her head again. “You don’t mean that,” she said, voice quiet now. “You’re drunk. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Paige stepped closer to Azzi, pulling her closer, thankful when she didn’t push her away. “Az, I swear to god, I love you.”

Azzi looked at her, really looked at her, searching her face for something, but whatever she was looking for, she didn’t seem to find it.

She glanced away, running a hand through her hair, her voice carefully even. “Let’s just go back to your party P.”

Paige blinked, her chest tightening. “Azzi—”

Azzi turned back toward the bar without another word, and Paige stood there, her heart still racing, wondering if she just said too much or not enough.

Once they stepped back inside, although Paige was hurt she didn’t let it show, she refused to let Azzi leave her side.

She kept an arm draped around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her close as they navigated through the crowd. Any time someone so much as looked at her for too long, Paige would shift closer, pressing against Azzi in a way that made it clear who she wanted to be with.

Azzi didn’t pull away, but she didn’t fully lean into it either. She let Paige guide them through the bar, let her wrap an arm around her waist when they stopped at the table with the team, let her fingers linger on Azzi’s wrist when she reached for her drink. She let it all happen, but she didn’t say much throughout the night.

Paige didn’t care. She was determined to prove to her that she meant what she said.

She made sure Azzi was the only one she talked to, the only one she looked at, the only one she danced with when someone dragged them toward the music. When another girl tried to get her attention, Paige didn’t even glance her way—she just tightened her hold on Azzi, whispering something against her ear that made Azzi huff out a breath, something between exasperation and amusement.

Still, Azzi didn’t fully acknowledge any of it. Either she didn’t want to believe it, or she truly didn’t, but she didn’t ruin Paige’s night. She let Paige stay curled up against her in the booth, let her play with the hem of her sleeve absentmindedly, let her rest her chin on her shoulder. And when Paige officially got too drunk—when her words started slurring and her steps became unsteady—Azzi laughed softly, shook her head, and silently helped her out of the bar.

As they walked back to Paige’s dorm, Paige clung to Azzi like she was her lifeline. One arm was slung around Azzi’s shoulders, the other gripping her hand, fingers laced like she was afraid to let go. And she wouldn’t stop talking.

“I love your laugh so much,” Paige mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Like, really love it. It’s stupid how much I love it.”

Azzi sighed, adjusting her grip on Paige’s waist as they walked forward. “Paige—”

“And your eyes.” Paige ignored her, tightening her hold. “God, your eyes, Az. You ever look in the mirror? Like, really look? They’re so pretty. Sometimes I get distracted when you’re talking ‘cause I just—” She made an exaggerated hand motion as she hiccuped. “I get lost in ‘em.”

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “Paige, please stop talking.”

“No.” Paige pouted, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. You—you act like I don’t care, like I don’t see you, but I do. I see everything, Az.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She kept walking, gripping Paige a little tighter, but Paige kept going.

“You always smell good,” Paige mused, like it was a secret. “Like, stupidly good. It’s unfair.” She buried her face into Azzi’s shoulder dramatically, inhaling deeply. “Like right now? It’s ridiculous. What even is that? Do you live in vanilla or some shit?”

Azzi huffed out a breath, looking up at the sky like she was begging for patience. “Paige.”

“And you’re so good, Az,” Paige continued, voice softer now. “You take care of me, even when I don’t deserve it. Even when I’m stupid or drunk or messing everything up. I don’t know why you do it, but you do.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. Paige doesn’t know how much Azzi wanted to hear this, how long she had been waiting to hear this. Azzi just wishes that Paige had the guts to say it when she wasn’t drunk. When Azzi could believe that she truly meant what she was saying. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do,” Paige argued, stopping in her tracks and pulling Azzi with her. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I just—I never say it.” She frowned, blinking blearily up at Azzi as she swayed a little and swallowed another hiccup. “And that’s my fault. But I do love you, Az. You have to know that.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Paige’s waist. She wanted to believe her. Wanted to let herself feel everything Paige was saying. But she couldn’t. Not like this.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Come on,” she mumbled, tugging Paige forward again. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Paige stumbled a little as they kept walking, but her grip on Azzi never wavered as she continued rambling.

“All I want is you,” Paige murmured. “I don’t care about anyone else…anything else Az. Just you.”

Azzi kept her gaze ahead, “Paige—”

“No, listen.” Paige stopped walking again, forcing Azzi to stop with her. “You know how I know?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “I’d rather you not tell me right now but I’m sure you’re going to anyway.”

Paige’s lips parted, and her eyes, though glassy, were full of something real. “Because every time I think about somebody else having you, getting to see the sides of you I see, I feel sick. Physically sick. And I know that’s selfish as shit, but I don’t care. I don’t want anyone else to have you, Az. I want you.”

Azzi inhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“So what?” Paige challenged, stepping closer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

Azzi exhaled, looking away. “Please just drop it, okay? Let me get you inside.”

“No.” Paige’s fingers curled into Azzi’s hoodie, tugging her closer. “Do you love me?”

Azzi completely froze. Her grip on Paige faltered just slightly before she realized how much of her weight she was holding and she adjusted her grip again.

Paige searched her face desperately, her voice quieter now, more fragile. “Az. Do you?”

Azzi swallowed, forcing herself to pull away slightly. “Paige, drop it.”

Paige shook her head stubbornly making herself slightly dizzy. “No. I need to know.”

Azzi clenched her jaw, looking anywhere but at Paige as she closed her eyes, forcing the tears not to fall. “Not like this please baby.”

Paige’s breath hitched. “Azzi—”

“Not like this, Paige,” Azzi repeated, her voice strained. “You’re drunk. You won’t even remember half of this tomorrow.”

Paige’s face crumpled like the words physically hurt her. “That’s not fair.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, her heart hammering. “Come on,” she whispered, reaching for Paige’s hand again and squeezing it when they laced their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting a glow over the tangled sheets and the two bodies nestled together beneath them. Paige groaned, blinking against the light, the ache in her head reminding her just how much she had to drink the night before. But that wasn’t what made her chest feel tight. All the memories came rushing in—every drunken confession, every plea for Azzi to just say it back. And she remembered that Azzi never did. But she remembered how Azzi basically carried her home last night. How as soon as she laid down the room started spinning so Azzi helped her to the bathroom and held her hair. She remembers how Azzi basically brushed her teeth for her. How Azzi kissed her goodnight before pulling the cover over both of them.

And now Azzi is still here. Still wrapped around her, holding her like she didn’t want to let go.

Paige swallowed hard, keeping her eyes closed as she breathed in Azzi’s familiar scent, letting herself pretend—for just a little longer—that everything was okay. That last night hadn’t hurt. LIke it didn’t hurt all over again to remember it as soon as she woke up.

Azzi shifted slightly, her fingers instinctively curling against Paige’s side. A quiet hum left her lips before she finally blinked awake, her gaze finding Paige’s.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

Paige forced a small smile. “Morning.”

They stayed like that for a moment, neither making a move to pull away. If anything, they only inched closer, their noses nearly brushing.

Azzi exhaled softly, eyes flickering down to Paige’s lips. “I missed you so much P.”

Paige’s breath caught, the words sinking deep. She knew Azzi meant more than just the past few hours.

“Yeah?” Paige whispered.

Azzi nodded, her fingers tightening against Paige’s waist. “Yes.”

Paige didn’t answer with words. Instead, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to Azzi’s like she’d been craving it for months. Azzi melted instantly, sighing into the kiss, her arms pulling Paige in until there was no space left between them.

“I missed you too,” Paige mumbled against her lips, kissing her again. “So much.”

Azzi didn’t say anything about the night before—maybe because she still thought Paige didn’t remember, or maybe because she just didn’t have the words. But in the way she held Paige, in the way she kissed her back like she wanted to make up for every second they’d spent apart, she didn’t have to, at least not yet.

3rd Person POV - August 2021 (Connecticut)

They’re at Ted’s, music humming through the bar, the air humid with warmth and alcohol. Paige is sitting by the bar, talking to a girl she barely knows, just answering her questions out of politeness.

Paige didn’t even notice the girl at first. She was too caught up in the warmth of the bar, the buzz of alcohol in her system, and the presence of Azzi right next to her. They had been standing close, shoulders brushing, Azzi’s arm loosely draped over the back of Paige’s stool as Paige whispered something to her that made her laugh and glance in the direction Paige was referring to.

It wasn’t anything unusual. They always hovered near each other like this, caught in that undefined space between everything and something.

The girl came up while Paige was mid-laugh, leaning into Azzi’s side, but when the girl spoke, Paige straightened slightly, offering a polite smile.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you—I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan.”

Paige smiled. “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that.”

Azzi didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the girl, just sipped from her drink while watching the interaction unfold.

“I actually had a couple questions—if that’s okay?” the girl asked, shifting slightly closer.

Paige shrugged, always happy to talk about basketball and never wanting to be rude to fans. “Yeah, of course.”

It was harmless at first. Just the usual questions about the team, how she felt about the upcoming season. Paige answered them easily, glancing at Azzi every so often as if expecting her to chime in. But Azzi stayed silent, Paige just assumed she was lost in her own thoughts.

“So, are you single?”

Paige barely hesitated before answering, because technically, she was.

“Yeah.”

Azzi scoffed. It was quiet, but Paige heard it.

Paige blinked at Azzi. “What?”

Azzi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Nothing.”

But Paige knew her too well. She could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw.

“Azzi.” Paige’s voice was slightly louder now, calling her back, but Azzi was already moving, shaking her head.

Paige stood too, stepping closer. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?”

The girl who had asked the question awkwardly shifted away, sensing the sudden shift in mood, but Paige barely noticed.

Azzi tilted her head, lips curling into something almost amused but not quite. “You didn’t even think about it. You just answered.”

Paige scoffed. “Because it’s not a fucking trick question, Azzi.”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “Right. Because you’re so single.”

Paige exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling hot—from the alcohol, from frustration, from Azzi.

“I mean, yeah, I am.” She crossed her arms, brows furrowing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Azzi’s expression flickered, something flashing through her eyes too quickly for Paige to catch. “Forget it.”

She turned on her heel, heading toward the door.

Paige followed without thinking, voice rising. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when you’re the one who—”

Azzi spun around so fast Paige nearly ran into her.

“Not here.”

Her voice was lower now, but Paige could still hear the edge to it.

For a second, they just stood there, eyes locked.

Then, without another word, Azzi reached out, grabbed Paige’s wrist, and pulled her toward the exit.

The cold air hit Paige’s skin, a sharp contrast to the heat burning in her chest. Azzi dropped her wrist the second they were outside, pacing a few steps away before turning back, her eyes dark.

Paige exhaled hard, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, tell me what the hell that was.”

“Are you serious right now?”

Paige threw her arms out. “Yes, Azzi! I don’t get why you’re so upset over a question I didn’t even lie about.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. “You answered it so easily.”

“Because it was easy!” Paige shot back, voice rising. “I am single! That’s what you wanted, right? You were the one who wanted to keep things open during your first few months here, so what the hell do you want from me?”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You could’ve at least hesitated. Said you weren’t available.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re mad about? You wanted me to sit there and stutter for you? For what?” She stepped closer. “I didn’t even want the fucking girl, Azzi. I don’t want any of them. But you—you don’t want to commit, so I go along with it. I always go along with whatever you want.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Paige shot back. “You don’t get to be mad at me when you’re the one holding all the cards. You always have.”

Azzi let out a breath, her expression faltering for a second. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“No shit. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Azzi.”

Azzi turned away, shaking her head like she was trying to shut this all out. But Paige wasn’t done.

“You don’t want me to say I’m single? Fine, I won’t.” Paige took another step forward. “You want me to ignore every girl who looks at me? Fine, I’ll do that too.” She threw her hands up. “Hell, Azzi, just tell me what you want, and I’ll fucking do it! Because that’s what I always fucking do.”

Azzi’s nostrils flared as she turned back. “That’s not true, Paige. I don’t control you.”

Paige let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Azzi stayed silent, her eyes darting over Paige’s face like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

Paige exhaled shakily before lowering her voice. “You wanna know what really pisses me off about this whole thing Azzi?”

Azzi swallowed. “What?”

“I told you I loved you.” Paige’s voice cracked, just slightly.

Azzi stiffened.

“Ten months ago, Az.” Paige let out a humorless breath, shaking her head. “I told you, and you didn’t say it back.”

Azzi’s face fell, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

Paige scoffed, blinking harshly. “You’re pissed over some girl asking me if I’m single, but you—” Her voice wavered, her chest tightening. “You couldn’t even fucking answer me that night.”

Azzi swallowed again, her throat bobbing. “Paige, I—”

“No.” Paige cut her off. “You don’t get to be mad at me for answering a question honestly when you—when you couldn’t even fucking answer me.”

Silence.

Azzi’s fingers twitched at her sides like she wanted to reach for Paige, like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

Azzi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “You only say this shit when you’re drunk.”

Paige’s head snapped up, her frustration boiling over. “God, Azzi, you always use that as fucking excuse! Like I’m blackout or something, like I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She took a step closer. “But I do. I always do. I always remember”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Paige you can’t just—”

“No, Azzi.” Paige cut in, her breath unsteady. “I meant it then, and I mean it now. But you—you act like none of it counts. Like my feelings don’t count unless I say them exactly when you want me to.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, looking away for a second before finally meeting Paige’s eyes again. The fight in her expression dulled, replaced by something softer, something tired.

“Can we just—” Azzi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Can we just talk at home please?”

Paige hesitated, her chest still tight, her hands still curled at her sides. She wanted to keep pushing, to make Azzi see how much this hurt. But instead, she exhaled hard and gave a slow nod. “Okay.”

Azzi didn’t say anything else, just reached for Paige’s wrist again, this time with less force, guiding her away from the bar and toward the dorms.

And even though the argument had paused, the tension between them hadn’t gone anywhere.

…

The door shuts behind them, but neither of them speaks at first. Paige walks to the bed, sitting down, her head still spinning from alcohol and frustration. Azzi lingers near the door, back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest like she’s bracing herself.

She doesn’t look at Paige when she finally breaks the silence. “Why do you never say any of this when you’re sober?”

Paige lets out a long breath, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Az.” She drops her gaze back down, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “But does it even matter?”

“Yes. It does.”

Paige scoffs, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t. Because whether I say it drunk or sober, it’s still the truth.”

Azzi shifts against the wall before saying, “You think that’s the same thing?”

Paige leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yes! I always know what I’m saying, Az. I’m not just making shit up.”

Azzi looks away, jaw tight. Paige watches her carefully, then sighs, voice dropping. “Do you even care?”

Azzi’s head snaps toward her. “Of course I care.”

Paige pushes, her frustration mounting. “Then say something more than that. Say something more than just telling me that what I’m saying doesn’t matter because I’m drunk.”

Paige sees it—the hesitation, the walls going up. It makes her stomach twist. It’s almost ironic how much of a 180 they’ve done. It used to be Azzi begging Paige to say something, to give her a hint of how she felt.

Paige lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “See? This is what you do. You never say anything. You never let me know where I stand with you, but the second someone asks me if I’m single, suddenly it’s a problem? Suddenly all hell breaks loose.”

Azzi’s brow furrows. “That’s not—”

“No, that’s exactly what this is!” Paige cuts her off, her voice rising. She leans forward, frustration spilling out. “You get upset, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t tell me what you want. Just—tell me how you feel, Azzi. Please.”

The silence between them stretches, heavy and suffocating. Paige waits, her heart hammering, but Azzi stays frozen, her throat bobbing as she struggles for words.

Paige lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

She pushes herself up from the bed, ready to walk away. “Forget it. I need to cool off.”

Azzi’s eyes snap to her, panic flashing across her face. “Paige, this is your room.”

Paige shrugs, not turning back. “I’ll be back, I just—I need a minute.”

But before she can reach the door, Azzi moves.

Her hand wraps around Paige’s wrist—not forcefully, just enough to stop her. Azzi swallows hard, her grip tightening slightly. She could speak now. She could say what Paige wants to hear. But the words don’t come.

Instead, she pulls Paige toward her and kisses her.

It’s hesitant at first, uncertain, but when Paige doesn’t pull away, Azzi deepens it, her hands moving to Paige’s waist, fingers pressing into her like she’s afraid she’ll let go.

Paige exhales into the kiss, her frustration melting away into something softer like it always did with Azzi. After a second she starts to pull back, trying to say something, but Azzi doesn’t let her.

Azzi chases her lips, pressing closer, her breath shaky. As if she’s scared for the moment to end as if she’s terrified to lose Paige.

She can’t find the words, but she can show her. She wants Paige to feel what she’s been too scared to say. So she kisses her harder and this time, Paige doesn’t try to stop her.

Azzi walks them backward, guiding Paige toward the bed. Paige barely has time to register it before the backs of her knees hit the edge, and she’s falling onto the mattress, leaning up on her elbows, breath uneven.

Her pupils are blown wide as she stares up at Azzi, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Azzi reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

Paige freezes.

Her mouth parts slightly, and for a second, she just stares—completely awe-struck. The way the lighting casts soft shadows along the curves of Azzi’s body, the way her hair falls slightly over her shoulder—it makes Paige dizzy.

Azzi holds her gaze, searching for hesitation, but Paige’s hands are already moving before she can think—gripping Azzi’s waist, pulling her forward.

Azzi exhales softly before climbing onto Paige’s lap, settling over her with ease.

Then she kisses her again.

Paige’s hands travel up Azzi’s back, fingertips pressing softly into her skin as Azzi deepens the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it.

She doesn’t need to say it. Not now. Not when she can show Paige exactly what she means.

And Paige?

She lets her.

She lets herself fall.

She always has.

Azzi pulls away just enough for their lips to part, her breath warm against Paige’s skin. Her fingers tremble slightly where they rest against Paige’s ribs.

“P, I’ve never—”

Paige nods up at her before she can finish, already knowing. Understanding.

“We can stop,” Paige murmurs.

But Azzi shakes her head. “No. Not this time.”

Paige’s eyes search hers for any uncertainty, but there isn’t any.

So she nods, allowing Azzi to pull her shirt over her head, letting it fall somewhere to the side.

Azzi’s hands roam over Paige’s skin, like she’s memorizing every inch, like she’s seeing it in a new light.

Then, with gentle certainty, Paige flips them over, caging Azzi beneath her.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” she whispers, hovering above her, eyes locked onto Azzi’s.

Azzi doesn’t respond with words. She just reaches up, pulling Paige down into another kiss, hands tangling into her hair.

3rd Person POV - 2021 (Connecticut)

Paige had always been the one who struggled with communication. She was the one who avoided hard conversations, who buried her feelings beneath layers of sarcasm and easy distractions. Azzi was the opposite—she talked things through, making sure nothing was left unsaid. That’s just how they worked.

But now? Now everything was upside down.

After that night, Paige had expected something—anything—from Azzi. A conversation. A reassurance. Even an acknowledgment. Instead, she got silence.

Azzi didn’t disappear, not physically. They still saw each other every day. They still sat together at meals, still warmed up side by side at practice, still lingered in each other’s spaces. But something had shifted. Azzi wasn’t looking at her the same way. She wasn’t teasing her, wasn’t touching her the way she used to. She was there, but not really.

At first, Paige tried to talk about it. She gave Azzi easy openings, little moments where she could have said something.

"You good?" she’d asked one morning after practice, nudging Azzi’s knee under the table at breakfast.

"Yeah, just tired," Azzi replied, keeping her eyes down on her plate.

Another time, they were laying together on the bed and Paige mentioned, "We should talk, don’t you think?"

"About what?" Azzi asked, and Paige had felt something inside her crack.

After a few days of trying, Paige stopped. She told herself that maybe Azzi needed space. That maybe she was overthinking it. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t.

Azzi was retreating. And for the first time, Paige was the one left reaching.

The worst part? It hurt like hell.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that the reason Azzi wouldn’t talk about it was because she regretted it.

That maybe she didn’t love Paige back. That maybe she had gotten everything wrong.

So Paige gave her space. She stopped trying, stopped pushing. If Azzi wanted to pretend nothing had changed, then fine.

Still, the distance between them was suffocating. And with each passing day, resentment started to fester.

Like always it came to a head at Ted’s.

The bar was packed, the music loud, but Paige barely noticed any of it. She was a few drinks in, lingering at the bar with some girl from who knows where—she didn’t even remember her name. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested. She was just there, going through the motions, trying not to think about the way Azzi had been avoiding her for days. Paige knew she shouldn’t have let this girl get this close, knew she shouldn’t even be talking to her. But she wanted to get a reaction out of Azzi and she knew this was a sure way to do it.

She knew it worked when she felt that familiar gaze burning into her skin.

Azzi was a few steps away, sitting with their teammates, her jaw tight, fingers gripping her drink a little too hard. Paige wasn’t sure how long Azzi had been watching, but she could see it—the tension in her shoulders.

Just as Paige let out a small laugh at something the girl beside her said Azzi was next to her.

"Didn’t take you long to move on."

Paige turned slowly, her brows drawing together. "What?"

“Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d be so... quick about it."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked, her voice carrying over the music.

Azzi shrugged, bringing her drink to her lips. "I mean, you’re single, right? Just living it up finally."

"You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like you care when you’re the one who's spent the last few weeks acting like nothing happened."

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, clenching her jaw to stop herself.

Paige shook her head. "No, say it. Say what you’ve been thinking. Because I know you, Azzi.

“Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I just don’t have anything to say."

"Bullshit." Paige took a step closer, her voice rising. "You always have something to say. Except now."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.

Paige shook her head, “You’re such a fucking coward sometimes Az.”

Azzi flinched.

Paige knew it was a low blow, but she didn’t care.

Azzi’s eyes darkened and hurt flashed across her face before she said something she knew would hurt Paige. "Maybe letting you fuck me was a mistake."

Silence. Paige felt the words settle. The bar blurring around her.

Azzi’s expression immediately shifted when she realized how far she went, like she hadn’t meant to say it, like she wished she could take it back.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing a laugh even as her chest ached. "At least now I finally know where I stand."

Azzi opened her mouth, but Paige didn’t wait for whatever excuse was coming. She turned on her heel and walked out, pushing past bodies, her vision hazy.

The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside the bar, but Paige barely noticed. She was too focused on getting away, her feet moving fast down the sidewalk.

But before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Paige, wait. I’m sorry."

Paige whipped around, yanking her arm free. "For what, Azzi? What the hell do you want from me?"

Azzi stood there, breathing hard, her eyes wild under the streetlights. "I’m so sorry, I—just—can we talk?"

"Talk? Now you wanna talk? After you stood in there and called what we had a fucking mistake?"

Azzi flinched. "I didn’t mean that."

"But you said it…And you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was a mistake. Not because of what we did, but because I was stupid enough to think you actually wanted this. Wanted me."

Azzi ran a hand down her face, frustration rolling off her in waves as tears pooled in her eyes. "God, Paige, you act like this is so easy for me."

Paige’s nostrils flared. "It is! It’s the easiest thing in the fucking world! I love you, Azzi! And I don’t understand why that’s so damn hard for you to accept, to believe me. But you don’t give a fuck so it really doesn’t matter.”

Azzi’s face twisted with something Paige couldn’t figure out—guilt, fear, longing. Maybe all of it.

"I never said I didn’t care."

Paige let out a sharp breath. "You didn’t have to. You shut down. You ran. You left me with nothing, Azzi. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to give you space, hoping you’d come to me when you were ready. But all I got was silence."

Azzi shook her head, stepping closer. "I didn’t know what to do."

"You didn’t know what to do?!" Paige’s voice cracked, her hands trembling. "How about telling me the fucking truth? How about choosing me?"

Azzi exhaled heavily "I was fucking terrified, okay?"

"Of what?" Paige threw her arms out. "Loving me? Because, newsflash, Azzi, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have pushed me away the second things got real."

Azzi’s eyes flashed with something desperate and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her mouth.

"I do love you Paige."

It came out like a confession, like a plea. Like something she had been trying so damn hard to bury but couldn’t hold back any longer.

Paige stilled. Her breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, shaking her head. "No, you don’t."

Azzi stepped forward, looking at her like she was everything, like she was terrified to lose her. "Paige—"

Paige turned on her heel, ready to leave, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Azzi before she shattered completely. But Azzi wasn’t letting her go this time.

She grabbed Paige’s wrist again, but this time, she didn’t just hold her back—she pulled her in. Pulled her close, so close that Paige could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sheer panic radiating off her.

"Paige, please." Azzi’s voice cracked, and something about it—about the way she said her name like it was her last lifeline—made Paige freeze.

Azzi’s hands were trembling as she clutched at Paige’s arms. She wasn’t running now. She wasn’t shutting down. She was unraveling.

"I don’t know how to do this," Azzi admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to love you without losing myself."

Paige swallowed hard, her anger slowly being replaced with concern. "Azzi—"

"No, let me say this." Azzi took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, a few tears rolling down her cheek. "I’m always so calculated. So in control. And then you come along, and suddenly I can’t even think straight half the time. You—" she exhaled shakily "—you scare the shit out of me, P."

Paige’s brows pulled together, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice. "Azzi, I would never hurt you."

Azzi let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head. "That’s the problem. You could. You did for a little bit. When I was completely in love with you and I had to be your best friend and listen to you telling me about how you slept with someone else for the first time. That’s when I realized you could break me, Paige. How you could ruin my entire world and that terrifies me more than anything."

Paige’s breath caught.

"I didn’t pull away because I don’t love you," Azzi admitted, her voice trembling. "I pulled away because I love you too much. Because the moment I let myself have you, I knew I’d never want to let you go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without you and I didn’t know what to do with that."

Paige felt the last of her anger drain away, leaving only understanding in its place because she had gone through that exact same thing.

Azzi wasn’t scared because she didn’t love her. She was scared because she did.

Deeply. Completely.

Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don’t have to know what to do. You just gotta trust me Az. Trust that maybe we can figure it out together."

Azzi’s lips parted, her breath shaky, and then she kissed her.

Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. Paige hesitated at first, a split second of uncertainty passing through her, but then she melted into it, her hands sliding around Azzi, squeezing her like she’d never let go. Her entire body was trembling, but not from the usual anger or frustration. This was something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about passion alone. It was about everything—everything they had been through, everything they wanted to be together. It was everything they’d both been afraid to admit.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I love you." Azzi whispered it so softly, as if the words had been buried for years, locked away in a place she’d never dared to go. "I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since I was 15. I just didn’t know how to say it."

Paige’s breath hitched. She felt a lump in her throat, a quiet sob wanting to escape, but she swallowed it down. She leaned into Azzi, her forehead still against hers, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky exhale. "Then please don’t run this time. Just let me love you, Azzi—because I—I love you so much baby. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize as fast as you did. That I—"

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Paige’s she shook her head no slowly, her hands tightening around Paige’s waist. "It doesn’t matter. I promise I’m not going anywhere anymore."

…

It wasn’t the quiet moments that made them realize they were in love.

Not the nights tangled together in bed, whispering into the darkness, even when they weren’t officially anything.

Not the stolen glances or the lingering touches, the warmth of Azzi’s childhood bedroom where they figured themselves out.

Not the laughter, the tenderness, or the countless times they looked at each other like they held the entire world in their hands. When Paige dropped everything to be at Azzi’s side. When they’d wake up early and just smile at one another.

No—those were the moments they fell.

But this—this was when they knew.

It was in the arguments, in the breaking points. In the way their love made them reckless, made them desperate, made them vulnerable in ways they had never been before. It was in the fear, in the unbearable weight of knowing that the other had the power to destroy them completely.

Loving each other was never the risk. Letting themselves be loved back—that was.

But in the end, it was these moments—the raw, painful, necessary ones—that led them home to each other. That made it possible for them to be steady and completely content in one another when the attention started flying their way as they grew up.

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part six

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 4.2k | warnings: general angst, mentions of dizziness and nausea

Summary: you wake up only to find out you were unconscious much longer than anticipated, leading to multiple needed confrontations

Author’s note: I’ve been a bit MIA lately 😅 just throwing this out in the void before going through my dms/inbox. I’m soooo excited for the next part

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You didn’t need to open your eyes to know how bad your head hurt. It felt impossibly heavy, practically glued to the pillow beneath you. You weren’t entirely sure your neck could hold up its weight anymore. You groaned, not really certain where you were. You combed through the last things you remembered, all of it a blur of blood and exhaustion, none of it clear.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you?”

A low female voice greeted you, receiving only a grunt in response. Thinking was hard and it only caused the throbbing in your head to worsen. You weren’t entirely sure who was talking to you or why, but you focused all of your energy trying to remember what happened.

All you could remember was blood and pain, a tiredness that you carried in your bones. There was arguing and arrows and Eris. Slowly more and more came back to you until you sat up, wincing at the sudden change, nearly nauseous from the movement.

“Azriel? How’s Azriel?” Your eyes cracked open to find your room around you, albeit slightly cleaner than when you had left it. The still room was a sharp contrast to how you felt inside. Nesta was sitting in a chair next to your bed, a book in her lap, a finger marking her place in it.

She didn’t look happy to see you, nor did she seem to care that you were awake.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you it would seem.”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. The suddenness was something you had not learned from when sitting up. Now the room was slightly spinning before you shut your eyes tight, hoping for some reprieve. You rubbed your eyes harshly until you saw stars.

“It would also seem like you almost burnt out saving him.”

Burnt out.

It was something they warned all healers, magic or not. There is a breaking point. A point of no return. It’s happened to many healers over the centuries, especially during times of war, when they don’t quite know their own limits.

Something all healers learn is the whereabouts of their magical limitations, where they need to stop before doing serious damage to themselves. All healers were taught not to place someone else’s life above your own. It’s drilled into your heads, one of the first rules of practicing the healing arts.

But you had done it. You had placed Azriel’s life above your own without even a second thought.

The pained look that was on Eris’s face was enough to keep you from crumbling from that realization.

For hours, you placed Azriel’s healing above yourself. You made the choice over and over again, choosing him over yourself. You made the right call. You would do it again. You could handle a broken bond, but not a dead one.

Maybe this one sided devotion was proof enough you were making the right decision.

“I’m sure you have a better understanding than I do of how stupid and reckless that is, and yet you still did it.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t the happy, soothing voices you usually hear patient’s families spoke with after they wake up. If you heard someone chastising a patient after waking, you’d chew their heads off. Instead, you stayed quiet, just watching Nesta as she continued on.

“For weeks now, I have sat idly by as you spiraled into self-destruction, but I can’t do so anymore.” Her voice cracked with each word, betraying the anger she was trying to inject into each word. “You are my friend, and I care so much about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her concern cracked at your heart. She crumpled into herself, bringing a hand up to her mouth. She looked uncomfortable, like her body had been glued to the chair and was finally unfolding itself from strange positions to find comfort.

“I’m fine, Nesta.” You were groggy, nauseous, and a bit heartbroken, but you’d be fine. Azriel was alive, you were going to be mateless, but you’d be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, a look of annoyance crossing over her features. You weren’t sure if it was over your words or interrupting her.

“I haven’t been there for you as I should. I thought you needed space, and now you’re here.” She spat out the last word, but you knew she wasn’t talking about being confined to your room.

“How long was I out?” You had to stop Nesta’s spiraling and get a handle on the situation. Madja wasn’t here to tell you what had happened, but surely you could parse out your state from a few questions Nesta should know the answers to.

“Four days.”

Nesta must be wrong. Surely there was no way you were incapacitated for four whole days. That was ridiculous. But you looked over Nesta, taking in the purple bags beneath her eyes, her hands fisting into the fabric of her wrinkled dress.

She wouldn’t lie about that.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” And you hadn’t. You hadn’t thought of anyone except for Azriel and Eris for several hours, all of your attention on the two males. When you weren’t examining Azriel for his condition, your gaze would end up floating to wherever Eris was.

But now neither of them are here, just you and Nesta.

“You didn’t scare me. I was terrified. I thought you were gone, thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nesta, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” She repeated your words with a venom that had you recoil, preparing yourself for the strike. “You were wailing in Cassian’s arms in the foyer. You were inconsolable until you passed out. Madja’s been here nearly every hour to check on you.”

Shit. If Madja was making hourly rounds, you were in worse shape than you thought. Hourly rounds meant you must have been practically knocking on death’s door.

“What happened out there? What happened when you were with Azriel and Eris?” Nesta was practically pleading, desperate for some kind of answer. She was like a dog, a scent stuck in her nose until she nosed her way to the truth. You wanted to break, tell her everything.

Until you’re struck by the memory of Eris’s hand, pushing through Azriel’s wings, finding you. How tight his grip was, he warm his skin had been.

“We were ambushed. Azriel took the brunt of it. We healed him and came straight back here.” You absentmindedly rubbed at your wrist

“But you were gone for hours. You should have winnowed back.”

“Eris winnowed us somewhere. He was in bad shape, so I fixed him. How’s Azriel?” You needed to know more about his condition. Nesta said he’d be fine, but did that include any long term effects? How much had your healing helped him?

“He’s resting, but he’ll be fine.” She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping on her arm, not telling you much more than she already had. You were sure this was her punishing you, by leaving you in the dark on Azriel.

“If he wasn’t fine after you nearly killed yourself to save him, I’d resuscitate both of you to kill you myself.” You hadn’t realized you forgot to respond until she chastised you.

“Nesta-“

“You both were gone for hours. It was supposed to be quick. None of us realized until Rhysand couldn’t get through to either of you.”

You blinked, surprised at that. Eris must have had some form of protection put around the cabin that stopped Rhysand.

Interesting.

“And now you’re telling me next to nothing.”

“I just woke up. I can hardly recall it all myself, okay?” A lie. You remembered all of it clearly. The splintering wood, having to carefully remove the arrowheads, all of the blood gushing from him, Eris’s quick remarks.

“Did you fuck him?” The question was quick and unexpected, and you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you looked at her.

“Who, Eris?” She didn’t move, didn’t give away any slight movement. Still as a statue as yiur heart began beating faster.

“Yes, Eris. You reek of him these days. I won’t tell the others, but I need to know.” His name on her tongue sent a rush through your body, your jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Yes Nesta, I fucked him while Az was bleeding out.” The barb was quick on your tongue, this conversation raising your heckles and irritating you more than anything. Nesta’s eyes hardened for a flash, a mischievous glint in them before she softened ever so slightly, her voice turning from admonishing to conspiratorial in a manner of seconds.

“Do you think he’s a selfless lover?”

“No.” The response was too quick, too ready on the forefront of your mind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. “I imagine he’s selfish in every aspect of his life.”

“So you imagine it?”

“Nesta.” Her name was sharp from your mouth, a knife slicing across the room. She took a more defensive stance, approaching your bed. A knowing smirk overtook her features for just a moment before it quickly contorted into one of concern and annoyance.

“Mother’s sake, tell me something, anything.” Nesta was pleading at this point, uncaring at the vulnerability and guilt she was sure was all over her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re avoiding everyone, you're being self destructive, you’re spending a lot of time with Eris of all fae. What am I supposed to think?” She was pacing now, her footfalls back and forth across your floor, an anxious rhythm that only dug the secret deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Nesta, I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not accepting that.”

“What?” Her concern was shifting into nosiness. You clenched your hands in frustration, nails digging into skin harsh enough to leave marks.

“It’s not good enough.”

Rage was coiling inside of you, a ferocity nipping at your fingertips begging to be let out. You had to swallow down a growl from slipping out, the territorial feeling nearly consuming you.

You had to stall her. Get her out of here before you exploded before her.

“Give me a month to figure things out. I’ll be honest with you then.”

“A week.” You sighed through your nose. Of course Nesta was going to barter with you. Your left hand felt warm. A small trickle of blood was about to stain your sheets, no doubt.

“Two weeks.”

She looked to the window, her face blank as she thought over your offer. She was taking this almost too seriously, as if it were hostage negotiations or preparing for war.

“Fine. Fourteen days from now you’re telling me everything.” She pointed a long finger at you, the agreement weighing the air down. You felt a shift in the room, uncertain of the magical perimeters of your verbal agreement.

You released your hand, grabbing the pillow behind you. You didn’t care about the blood as you held the soft material to your face and screamed.

-

Members of the Inner Circle trickled in throughout the day, each one wanting to see for themselves you were awake and had all your faculties about you. It was sweet, but by the time you had seen Cassian and his boisterous laugh, your head was pounding so hard it made the soft lights in your room appear blinding.

Feyre had come in a few hours after Cassian, boxes loaded in her arms as she came into your room. You were a bit groggy, having just woken from a nap in the hopes it would tampen your migraine.

It half worked.

“What is all that?”

The boxes shuffled in Feyre’s arms, ringing and tingling with each step.

“Well, I wanted to bring some jewelry to look over for the gala in a few weeks.” You had completely forgotten about it, had forgotten that one of the days you were incapacitated was a scheduled day for you, Feyre, and Mor to go dress shopping.

“Thanks, Fey. Sorry for missing-” she shushed you, not letting you finish your apology. She spread the boxes across your bed, gently lifting the lid of each one to reveal exquisite necklace after exquisite necklace. Each one contained more vibrant jewels, shinier than the last.

The eight boxes practically blinded you with the light coming in. Feyre noticed the squint in your eye and quickly closed the curtains.

“They're gorgeous, but I haven’t even picked a dress.”

“Maybe you could pick a dress after you pick the jewels. Black goes with everything, so..” she trailed off, sitting in the seat next to you, her back straight. She watched you eagerly, her eyes flitting between you and the pile of jewels before you.

“Are you wearing any of these?”

“No - Rhys surprised me with some onyx pearls. Want them on full display.” She reached a hand up to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what Feyre meant - skin, and lots of it, on display. She was much quicker to adapt to fae views on modesty than you had anticipated.

“Oh, well in that case.” You sat up a bit straighter, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible. Each necklace must have been worth a pile of gold marks.

A few of them looked quite similar - chunky gemstones of varying colors set in different metals. One necklace did catch your eye. You kept looking over to it, the other ones looking dull and lifeless in comparison. Deep red stones perfectly set to resemble Night Court jasmines. The dark red nearly looked black until the light hit it, refracting rays of red. The stones branched out, weaving around the neck to create multiple flowers connected by leaves.

You couldn’t stop looking at the necklace, your hand gently rubbing across it.

“Do you like that one?”

Feyre had a knowing look as she watched you, but you didn't turn to see it.

“Yes. I do.”

-

A few more visitors came and went - Madja (again), Rhysand, Mor. Each one not the shadowsinger you wanted to see. Maybe it was better to wait. Build your strength up a bit before shattering your heart.

Rhysand and Mor could both tell your head wasn’t with them. Rhys accepted it, leaving you to your thoughts, but Mor lingered, her never ending stories an attempt at distracting you. The attempt half worked - at least now only every other thought was about Azriel.

But most of the other ones were about Eris.

Your friends tried to help clear your mind, but all your thoughts whirled and swirled with fire and shadow, bright and vibrant colors immediately snuffed out by the darkness.

Everyone told you Azriel was fine. But where was he? You felt unsettled, unable to truly concentrate without seeing him.

You glanced over to your bedside table, the book on broken mating bonds practically laughing at your turmoil.

You went over what to expect again, trying to see if you can recall all the symptoms and long term side effects of the broken bond, repeating them to yourself like a mantra.

-

It wasn’t until the next day you saw Azriel. He had gently knocked on the door before coming in, each movement slow and unsure, as if approaching a wild animal.

“I had heard rumors you were awake. Wanted to check for myself.” He stood with the door to his back, as far away as possible from you. One hand on the knob, but his body was angled right at you.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at him outright.

Azriel looked beautiful, like always, but he carried a tiredness with him. His wings weren’t as high as they usually stood, his shoulders were caved in a bit. His shadows were slithering in every direction, all trying to reach you, but held back by some invisible tether.

He looked miserable.

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, an echo in the dark woods late at night. A salvation or a new fear.

“Have you visited while I was asleep?” You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted him here, how much you still thought of him.

So what if you were going to stretch out the last few minutes of your bond.

“Madja wouldn’t let me. She had Cassian and Mor practically guarding the door day and night to ensure I stayed put until completely recovered.” He scoffed as he said it, as if he were nothing more than an animal incapable of decisive thought.

Or they didn’t think he was the coward he had been for the past few weeks. They thought him capable of seeing you.

And yet here he was. Despite his self-loathing, his inability to make a decision, to speak, to do anything his mates need him to.

He wanted to be the male his mates needed.

“I wanted-“ he began, searching the room for his next words, as if they would be written out on your wardrobe or the painting behind your head. He tightened his hand into a fist, the scars nearly turning white as he looked at you head on.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to nearly die saving me.”

“I would have done it for anyone else.” The second the words left your lips, you knew Azriel wouldn’t believe them. He always knew when you were lying somehow, as if the mating bond gave him some unfair advantage to your heart and motivations.

Azriel only nodded, not fighting you on the lie. You watched him suspiciously, watched his chest rising and falling, subconsciously counting his breaths.

“Are you tired?”

He looked anguished, like he carried a deep hunger and no meal was enough to sustain him, let alone nourish him.

“No.”

“Nesta said you needed more rest.”

“Nesta lies when it suits her.”

An awkward silence settled over the two of you, weighing you down further into the bed. You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your elbows until you reached a sitting position. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say. It wouldn’t get easier the longer this went on. Azriel moved to your side, moving pillows to give you a proper cushion and to help prop you up.

“We should talk, Az.” He looked over you, the pillows abandoned as all of his attention was focused on you. You held your hands in your lap, wringing them for every ounce of courage they contained to get through this conversation. Your stomach churned with dread, the thread around your heart trying to stop you from saying what you had to.

“When you were injured, because of me, I decided it’s not fair to you or me to keep dragging this out. We should end things.” You looked at your hands, proud you had gotten the words out without stuttering or breaking. You swallowed harshly, your throat dry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reach for the water on your nightstand.

Quiet surrounded you, a stillness you hadn’t expected from this conversation. There were no shouts or sobs, no frustration sitting in your chest. No relief or songs of praise at being free.

Just silence. Like you had made him incapable of thought or feeling with those words.

“Is that what you want? Or is that what you think I want?” His words startled you, and you finally looked up to find a layer of rage coating his face. He had come closer while you were looking elsewhere, finally being in the room, allowing himself in the narrative.

Finally taking charge.

“Isn’t it? What’s the point in having a mate who doesn’t want you?” Your words had an immediate effect on him, the male before you rubbing his hands on his face. One of his shadows hooks around his fingers, trying to pry them away, to make him seen. Another one swirls his ear, and you can’t discern it, but you hear a light buzzing from it.

He sits in the chair next to your bed before quickly getting back up and grabbing one of your clammy hands.

“I have not been good to you or Eris. This is hard, okay? No one has ever had this happen and I didn’t want either of you hurt.”

You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but he held it tighter. The textured grooves of his skin were more prominent as he held you. “Bit late for that.”

“Please. Please, give me more time. Give me a chance. Maybe we can figure something out, some kind of arrangement.” He was desperate, a pleading voice you had never heard from him. Was this how criminals of the Night Court looked to him, pleading at the ends of their lives for just one more chance?

“An arrangement?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what to do when I have two mates who I care about who also hate each other and they both currently hate me.” He paused, chest heaving. His hazel eyes looked so lost, so unsure. “Not to mention someone out there knows about us or about us being out there. I haven’t been able to figure it out, haven’t been able to figure any of this out.”

The end of his sentence tapered off into his spymaster voice. A tone full of obsession and getting to the root of things, a dogged voice of determination.

“Please, let me take care of you. If not as your mate, as your friend. I care so deeply about you and you are where all my thoughts have been the past few days.”

“What of Eris?” Azriel used to recoil at the mention of his other mate, his name so foreign on your tongue. Now he showed no change, almost happy to hear it.

“He’s popped in now and then. He’s angry with me for getting hurt.” The mention of it sent you back there. A large, heavy body nearly crushing you in an effort to save you. Hoe you had felt him slump into you, his body giving out, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Is he upset you shielded me?”

“Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.”

“As proud as Illyrians?” Your question brought a smirk to his lips, a twitch you knew he couldn’t suppress. You hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, but it felt more like a lifetime since you had a chance to see anything other than impassiveness or pain on his face.

“Almost.” He chuckled, lighthearted and free. A rarity you didn’t take for granted. His smile melted, a more serious, solemn expression overtaking his face. His hazel eyes were a shade full of desperation you knew a little too well.

“Give me time. Please. I’ll handle Eris. Just don’t - don’t reject the bond if you have an ounce of hope this could work. That’s not a sadness I wish to see you carry.”

“Why are you talking to me about this now? You’ve been avoiding this for weeks, Az.”

“I was afraid. I thought if I acknowledged it, I'd be hurting Eris. But I hurt both of you anyway. And I need-” the words die on his tongue, an awkward pause as he searches for the right words without being too vulnerable. “I need to- I needed to.. I don’t know how to do this. To be the male you both need. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Are you here because you have to be?”

“No. I want to be here. Let me be here. Let me try.”

Something about him cracked you open inside. In the weeks of this turmoil, the constant push and pull, the uncertainty, Azriel hadn’t looked so open, so vulnerable, so pained. If you spent long enough, you were sure you could map out every regret on his face.

Two roads laid before you. To end it all now, cut off any further heartache. Or you could try, allow Azriel time to figure something out.

He cared for you, you knew that deep inside of you.

With each passing second, your earlier resolve to end things became weaker and weaker, your heart winning the argument with your mind. Perhaps Nesta was right: you were self-destructing. Or was it the mating bond, so loudly swirling in your chest, determined to see itself recognized, even if it meant leading you overboard into frigid waters?

“You may stay. One condition.”

Azriel’s face relaxed, but he still seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, your words only lifting a few pounds off the load.

“You can’t leave at any inconvenient time, can’t just leave or shut me out because things get hard. I am your mate, and if you don’t treat me as an equal, or someone of importance… I’m gone.”

“Of course.” A light tingle gripped you again, less powerful than the magic that had floated around during your deal with Nesta. This time it was more like a light wind disturbing settled dust, spreading it across the both of you. Azriel’s skin almost brightened with the promise, breathing new life into him.

It suited him.

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[theliliesofthevalleies]

The skeletons wordlessly point around the room as if the reasoning should be obvious. Obviously he had been put in the summoning circle.

Danny puts a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes in contemplation for a moment. He takes in a long deep breath and looks at the skeletons. “And.. no one thought to.. I don’t know.. alert me to the fact that there is a whole living person in the offerings room..?”

All the skeleton’s just shrug and go back to pampering the now stunned and speechless Robin who is staring up at Danny from where he’s seated on the floor. “You’re a lot younger than I thought you’d be. Honestly that’s a relief. I was worried I was being offered as a bride to the ghost king that was going to be like.. old and gross..”

“You were offered as what?! You’re fourteen?!” Danny stares at the teenager no older than himself and crouches down. “What do you mean as a bride for me? Why would they even assume I wanted a child bride…?”

Robin, now removing his mask because, fuck it why not if he’s stuck there might as well, shrugs as he looks back up at Danny now showing him that he is in fact Tim Drake. “Don’t know.. don’t really care. I would however like to get home. My.. adopted father and his other adopted adult child are probably looking for me and considering that the last time a Robin went missing he was murdered.. they are probably losing their minds..”

“Right right.. uh.. well.. I have to ask Clockwork about how to send you back.. because the Infinite Realms sort of identifies you as.. my property now.. and the fact that you are technically dead..” Danny looks like he’s ready to hurl from the thought but he straightens up.

Tim looks up at him with wide eyes and blinks a few times. “I’m dead..?” He pat his own chest and looked at himself all over.

“Only technically.. you were given as an offering.. the only way to send a living being to the Infinite Realms is to kill them.. or half kill them.” Danny thinks for a moment. “Honestly when we get you back. You may only have a half life.. you may be a Halfa now..” He shrugs and starts leaving the room. “Come on. I’m not going to force you to stay locked in here. Though.. m aybe put your mask back on. Some of the residents of the Infinite Realms still like to keep your identities a secret for themselves..”

Tim stands and places his mask back on his face trying ti ignore the reeling in his head from finding out he had apparently died. “So. You already knew who I was..?”

Danny with a dejected look and tears welling up in his eyes. “No.. I was one of the residents that enjoyed keeping your identity a secret. But it’s okay.. you just proved my theory so…”

Tim nods. “Right.. sorry about that..”

They make their way to Clockwork and find out it will take a while to send Tim back home. In the meantime Danny and Tim spend a lot of time together getting to know each other. Danny brings Tim a change of clothes when he comes back from school one day.

By the time they manage to navigate the stupid rules of the Infinite Realms two months later Tim is on the verge of his fifteenth birthday and has realized feelings are starting to bloom in his chest when he sees Danny. They agree to stay in contact and when Tim is dropped off on the day of his fifteenth birthday he leans over and kisses Danny’s cheek before running off to find Bruce and Dick who, as he predicted had in fact lost their minds.

It takes a lot of explaining to get them to calm down and understand that he A.) didn’t run away and get murdered. B.) didn’t die at all. Which Tim knows is a lie but he doesn’t want Bruce and Dick to freak out about him dying. And C.) is very much alive despite the blood loss of cult members trying to sacrifice him to what is essentially a god.

(Idk if op wanted this to turn into ship but I’ve been reading a lot of DannyxTim fics lately and that’s where my brain went. Lol.)

Bonus. When Jason comes back as Red Hood Tim can tell because Jason has a similar aura to Danny. Danny comes to visit and when he sees Jason he tells Tim that Jason has corrupted ectoplasm and he’s not sure how but his core is shattered. Danny and Tim set out to help Jason and they manage to clean his ectoplasm before Jason can bring his who reveal and revenge plan to fruition.

Once his ectoplasm is clean and Danny got his core into mostly one piece Jason all but loses interest in his big dramatic revenge plot so Tim brings him to the manor one day and Bruce freaks out.

Danny and Tim explain to Bruce what was up and that now that his ectoplasm is clean and his core is mostly whole now would be the best time to talk to Jason about all the things Jason is angry about.

(Side note I really like the idea that Danny helps Jason right after the first time he meets him and it freaks Jason out because, why the hell is the replacement and his boyfriend randomly finding him and why is the replacement’s boyfriend shoving his hands in his chest. It sort of freaks him out. But it helps the Pit rage so he honestly lets it happen.)

DPxDC Prompt #17

There is a room Danny's Keep he set up shortly after defeating Pariah Dark. It became necessary when the broader magical community realized Pariah had be defeated and therefore a new King took his throne. Danny found himself briefly bombarded with waves of attempted summonings.

Which, the summonings themselves, wouldn't have been so bad. Turns out people can't just drag the King of Ghosts to themselves on a whim. Danny has to actively accept a summoning to get pulled to it. And if he just decides "No," the pull and whispers go away. No problem there.

No, the problem is the offerings. And sacrifices. The things that people put in the circle as payment for even attempting to summon him. Like having to put a quarter in the payphone just to listen to it ring and ring and ring as the person on the other end of the call doesn't pick up. Since the summoning magic regarded these things as belonging to Danny even if he rejected the summons, they usually ended up just materializing in front of him if he didn't go to them.

Which, okay. It was funny that time he got to end a fight with Vlad very fast when a whole gold bar materialized and dropped on his head. And the food was nice sometimes when it was late and everywhere was closed and his parents had left samples in the fridge to contaminate everything into animation again. But the goat head dropping from the ceiling onto his desk during on of Lancer's English tests was not appreciated. Even if it did get the test rescheduled and the whole school shut down for a few days to investigate the "potentially satanic activity."

So, yeah, it was a bit of a problem. Fortunately, it was a problem with a relatively simple solution. Danny set up an inbox. With a bit of help from Tucker and Pandora, and a couple tips from Clockwork; all summoning offerings and sacrifices would now go straight to the dedicated room in the Keep.

And! As a special touch, the summoners would also get a chipper, automated voice saying, "The Ghost King you are trying to summon has more important things to do than answer you right now. Please leave a message in the circle with your name, date, location, contact information, and reason for summoning. The Ghost King will get back to you at his earliest convenience." Sam's stupid fancy girl gala voice had been perfect for that little message.

It was the perfect solution. Danny no longer had to deal with randomly materializing offerings putting his secret identity at risk. Pariah's skeletons, who had been antsy for something to do now that they were no longer bent under the thumb of a cruel tyrant, were instructed to take care of all the offerings; making sure everything was always cleaned up and put away. And all Danny had to do was stop by periodically to check in and "Officially respond" -ie, write a fuck off note- to the summoning messages (Clockwork's insistence).

A perfect solution. Up until Danny checked in one day to find the skellies pampering a whole ass boy. No. Not just any boy. Danny recognizes that costume.

"Why is Robin here?"

[amourcheol]

blurring the lines (teaser)

❝Why learn the complexities of desire all by yourself, when your dearest friend can merely teach you?❞

bridgerton! au | friends with benefits! au | smut, fluff | approx. 30k words (1.6k words for teaser)

s u m m a r y : you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.

c o n t e n t : best friend! joshua, best friend! soonyoung too, references of real erotic literature from the 1700s because this is not an amourcheol fic without historical accuracy, references of other members, lady whistledown will be present, soonyoung is the real mvp in this fic, shua acts like a man </3 mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (regency protection is goofy mb), mc experiences crazy overstimulation, corruption kink (!!!), more tba

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : bonjour hola bridgerton s4 sneak peak dropped which means i ofc had to drop a sneak peak of my own !! even tho i am over a week late !! send an ask if you wish to be tagged! hope you enjoy the teaser ;)

playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

"WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS?"

Involuntarily your eyes flickered to the table, and he followed, turning his head to the study, which he noticed immediately was tidied—tampered with. "You went through my things?”

“I did not mean to!” you exclaimed, gaping at his sudden charge towards the desk, you hot at his heels. “I just thought it looked like a mess, so I tried cleaning it—”

“You are not a servant,” he cut off, darting over the new order of his account books, as well as the fiction which you had assembled. “You are not required to look after me like that.”

“I know, but—”

“And sneaking out with my possessions? Without my permission?” He smacked the book on the table, making you flinch. “I thought you better than that.”

You were better than that—well, at least until tonight. You ransacked your mind for an excuse, any form of escape, except your words were absolutely pathetic. “You have never minded me reading your novels before,” you attempted. “In fact, you encouraged me to scour your shelves.”

He looked at the book again—a moment too long—and went back to set a slight glare upon you. “Well, my journal is not a trivial novel. It was private…not meant for you.”

You knew that. What did not settle well, though, was that your dearest friend, who had shared his every worry, his every confession to you, had been doing things you had no inkling of, things that incited such…extraordinary feelings from you. 

You had to know what more lay in those pages—and why you had felt the way you felt in those pages which your eyes did scour. “I read it.”

His glare faltered. “How much?”

That question was answered with another. “What was it, Joshua?” You stepped forward, a timid gesture, so you could catch a look at the hardback again. “I…I read some pages, and…what was she doing?”

His hand on his journal pushed it back. “I do not know.”

“Liar,” you got out, and he pursed his lips. You knew him irritatingly well. “You are keeping things from me.” 

“It is not keeping things from you,” he countered, frustration rising in his voice. “It is…protecting you from those…things.” 

“Tell me what those things are, Joshua,” you demanded, quietly but not softly. “It has rattled you enough. That has never happened to you.”

But he was silent. Eerily quiet, merely the rustle of his clothes, the soft thunk of his novella settled back with the French novels which raised your suspicions. A boundary made—a rejection established. 

Perhaps you would have respected it in another lifetime—in a world where you had not indulged your curiosity, set your eyes upon entities which were not for you to explore. Perhaps you would have respected it even if Joshua had offered to enlighten you—maybe blushed and ran away, and vowed never to look through his possessions again. 

The writings had rattled you, though, more than he realised. Social etiquette—good common sense would have expected you to respect his opinion, opinions of society, and drop the subject. 

Joshua Hong, however, was your greatest friend. No societal expectation could change that. 

So you opted to push the limits. Refuse the silence to be the end of this matter.

“I read enough, you know. To feel…” A pause. “I cannot even describe to you how I felt, because I have never felt that way before.” You tried to find the right words, a single confession out of order and he would stop listening—or so you thought. “There was an extract you wrote, Joshua, which had certain…descriptions…” Burning. Pleasure. Naked. Fire. Ecstasy. “There was a girl who was doing something. I am unsure what she was doing specifically, but…what she felt watching them…”

A soft exhale released from you, and almost instinctively Joshua released his own breath. “I think I…um, I think I felt a remnant of it.” 

He blurted out, barely a whisper, “You what?”

You looked at him—barely managed a nod. “I do not…don’t even know what she was doing with her fingers—” Joshua’s sudden coughing interrupted you, holding a fist to his lips to stop himself—“But whatever it was…I want to know what it was.” 

You watched the man stay deathly still, yet the emotions racing behind his face were certain. Not only were you rattled, but had passed this strange sensation to him. Had he never felt it before? You wondered, surprised by the similarity of his reaction to yours. 

He then responded to you, and you realised your mistake. “You cannot.”

Another boundary. Another opportunity to cross it. “Why?” This time, you stepped closer to him. “Why can I not know?” He was silent once more, and this time, you would not accept it. “Why are you hiding from me?”

“Because you are a lady!” he finally cut out, an agitated sigh coming straight after. “You are not to know such…such material.”

A lady…that you were aware of, but that still did not answer the question. Joshua watched, Joshua did whatever he had done to a lady. The answer was not good enough.

Judging by the increasing agitation in your friend’s countenance, he knew it too. It was at that point, though, when you truly noticed his harsh sighs, the tight fists—one at his mouth now trudging to the table, and the other secured at his hip—figure rigid. How affected he was by your questioning.

As if he mirrored the same sensations as you experienced.

“Is it…” You pursed your lips. “Is it because you were feeling them too?” 

A blink back—the only recognition of shock. You held onto this, continuing, “Tell me the truth, Joshua. You said yourself, no? That a lady cannot know, but you did not say a gentleman cannot either. You were feeling it too, were you not?”

His eyes were widening with your every word, and he stepped back, almost as if to run away. You did not need an answer from him now—it was abundantly clear that he had undergone such passions, as if it was not certain as you read it. There was only one question left in your arsenal now.

Joshua could have collapsed to the study floor. He heard the questions, and suddenly all he could do was gape at you. The determined curiosity in your eyes, the resolute stature of your body, closer than he last remembered. Oh, he would die before answering such a thing to you. He could not. He could not. 

“_____, it is late,” he began after a long time. The slight hope on your face leaving instinctively dampened his spirits. “It is already rash that you came here without a chaperone and I refuse to let you become the centre of ill conversation.”

And there it was. The supposed end. 

You did not realise how disappointed you were until you found your voice again, much graver than you expected. “So that is how it will be.”

Fine. If your best friend would not entrust you with such information, you would find the next person who would not be so apprehensive. A fortunate situation that you already had a man in mind.

As you turned on your heel, you heard him ask, “Where are you going?”

You did not stop your walk away, looking over your shoulder as you retorted, “To Soonyoung. At least he will be honest with me, if you choose not to be.”

He must have said something, but you did not deign to hear, only looking to the door, which was slightly ajar. You held your hand out, ready to open it further. 

Another force—another hand, larger than yours, slammed the door shut, jumping you out of your skin. Quickly you swivelled to see Joshua, breathing slightly uneven as his hand stayed right beside your head, resting against the wood. “Good God,” you got out, “What was that for?”

“You cannot go to Soonyoung,” he said instead, gaze frantic. 

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” 

He frowned. He could tell from your irritation that you assumed it was jealousy, a worse morphing of cowardice. It was not jealousy—nothing like that. Soonyoung was like a brother to him, and he knew that if there was anyone else you could have gone to without eliciting scandal, then it was that eccentric. He would explain everything to his friend, and be done with it without furthering his own curiosity. 

With that in mind, he would also tell you everything. Joshua was aware that there were skeletons in the closet of such matters, and your door was already slightly ajar. Should you go to Soonyoung to seek counsel, he would break down the doors, and suffocate you with the bones of such sensitive information.

What you asked was no normal feat. What you asked was sensitive. Precious. Soonyoung was trustworthy, but he was not careful. 

Joshua, on the other hand, was careful. Very careful, if he thought so himself. 

“He would not…explain it properly,” he offered instead. 

“At least he will explain it,” you countered, twisting your mouth. “I’d rather something than nothing at all.” 

His brows knitted together, desperation rising. “You have to understand me, _____.”

“Not after this.” You tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes—for the very first time—were incredibly hard to ignore. “Let me out the door.”

His reply, although perturbed, was clear. “I cannot.”

“Then tell me, Joshua,” you demanded. “Tell me what she was doing.” 

He should have stayed silent forever. What he should have done—as a gentleman, as you yourself had deemed him—was keep his mouth shut. 

A semblance of his sanity slipped once he uttered the fated words.

“She was touching herself.”

s e r i e s t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @smiileflower @ourkivee @alyssa19123456 @xylatox @lexyraeworld @fancypeacepersona @tjjth @zezedoesshit @ochidize @sankriin @okiedokrie-main @reiofsuns2001 @gyuguys @livixxn @livelaughloveseventeen @peepeepoopooharrie @shinaely @uhdrienne @maple249

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SPOILER SPOILER

new yuu for the scara manga. Credits to magister_xehanort on reddit. Doesn't she looks cool?!! She kinda gives me kalim vibes since she looks bubbly. What do you think miss raven?

I already gave my (very brief) preliminary thoughts on our new Yuu, Yuuna Oujou (I must stress it is NOT Ojou) in this post. I would be more than happy to expand on those thoughts here though ^^

So firstly, this Yuu is a girl--and a very feminine presenting one at that. This supports the theory that each manga!Yuu will be going in the boy-girl-boy-girl order, or perhaps the opposite gender of the Great Seven member of each book/dorm.

I think it's great that we have a very femme Yuu in official Twst media; it definitely adds to the diversity of the Yuuniverse. I especially appreciate what this implies about the NRC cast: they don't treat a girly girl significantly differently (whether being overly nice, overly mean, or overly awkward around her) than they would a masculine-presenting or nonbinary Yuu.

One thing I LOVE about Yuuna is that she actually has several unique interactions with the NRC cast and the world. Part of why I don't like Yuuken or Yuuka as much is because their level-headed personalities didn't lead to them really changing much about how they interacted with this new environment + people (other than the occasional change, like Yuuka squaring up to fight). I liked Yuuta a lot more because he has way more moments to "be himself" in the world, like using his cooking to convince Leona to let him sleep over in Savanaclaw, being softer around Jack, and having a backbone when Grim tries to hurriedly cram food into his mouth before class. Yuuna goes even FURTHER than that. She has her own nicknames for each character, takes selfies with them, literally plunges into Kalim's Oasis Maker water without a care in the world, plays dress-up with the shiny stuff in Scarabia's storage room, freaks out about the bugs in Ramshackle, and SO much more. Yuuna legitimately feels like a part of this world rather than a passenger in it.

I think we should talk more about how Yuuna dresses! This is known as gyaru, which is a Japanese fashion subculture typically known for its rebellious outfits, tanned skin, big and/or dyed or bleached hair, many accessories, and exaggerated makeup. It is also associated with a particular attitude or behaviors, such as being outgoing, sociable, and energetic. The name gyaru (ギャル) originates from a Japanese transliteration of the English word 'gal'. I believe the style originally developed in the 1970s as a statement of nonconformity to Japanese beauty standards (which emphasizes being pale-skinned, dark-haired, and demure in their appearance). Gyaru was originally considered very inappropriate, and the older generation tend to stereotype it as frivolous and associated with adolescent delinquency. In the west, it was even sometimes mistaken as racist depictions of dark-skinned people. Nowdays, gyaru is more understood as being a way for people to break out of conventional beauty standards set upon them by society.

What Yuuna wears, as one of the anons shares, is a substyle of gyaru called kogal or kogyaru (子ギャル or コギャル). The 子 or コ (ko) in kogyaru means "child", referring to the childishness or youthfulness of those who typically wear this fashion. It is defined by those who wear clothes resembling Japanese high school uniforms with alterations and flairs made to them. (These alterations are usually frowned upon, as Japanese schools are very strict about wearing their uniform properly.) This could include alterations in color, wearing one's uniform differently, wearing loose socks, shortening the skirt, and/or adding accessories to bags. We may also see bleached hair and/or tanned skin. This substyle formed in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but is popular in modern day, as it has been picked up and promoted by Japanese media.

As I mentioned in the original post, Yuuna comes from the countryside and she helps her family out on their rice fields. However, her dream is to become a model in Tokyo (this is what her audition was for).

We don't get to see a lot of her parents, but I don't get the impression that they disapprove of her fashion or life choices. They just short of tell her off for looking at magazines while she's supposed to be doing something else. They allow her to go to a modeling audition too, rather than taking efforts to prevent it or to shame her from going. There's also no bullying alluded to or mentioned; I genuinely don't think Yuuna is supposed to have a tragic background. (None of the other manga!Yuus did, either.) She just has an interest in this fashion, and there doesn't have to be a deep or trauma-related reason for it. Simply her being into the gyaru subculture makes her a foil to Jamil. Gyaru is all about expressing oneself, even if society frowns upon it. Yuuna is able to be "true to herself" in this way, despite coming from a humble background. She is also willing and able to help her family out with their rice fields--but her aspirations lie elsewhere. Jamil isn't able to do the same. His family actively opposes his decisions and put him in a position where he isn't able to freely express himself or pursue anything other than what he was born into. He comes to resent what his family does and how he is forced to comply with it.

It's also interesting that her bubbly personality is also similar to Kalim's. Yuuna is shown to get along with him very well and is super friendly to the other NRC students, just like Kalim is. I wonder if this also plays into why Jamil thinks she can be easily manipulated (since he was also able to easily manipulate Kalim in book 4). He may underestimate them because of their similar personalities.

One last thing I want to note is 🤔 Yuuna continues the pattern of all manga!Yuus having surnames related to death... Her surname, Oujou, sounds like おうじょう or 往生際 (oujougiwa), a word that can mean "rebirth in another world", "a calm and peaceful death, "to breathe one's last", and/or "the moment before death/the brink of death". Ominous...

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

What are some words or phrases you feel like you overuse?

What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

Would you ever accept requests or commissions?

Coffee or tea while you write?

What is your favorite line/section from [insert fic]?

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What makes you happiest? New fic comments, kudos, bookmarks, user subscribers, story subscribers, or Tumblr asks?

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[sinofwriting]

Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part One)

Words: 1,177 Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it. Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly. There will be a part two!

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“Cha?” He turns at the nickname, beaming at the girl.

“Petit! I didn’t know you would be coming today.” He’s unable to stop himself from looking her up and down, wishing the marks he left on her just yesterday were visible.

Her eyes dart downwards, fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I need to talk to you.”

The quietness of her voice makes his smile drop and he sets his drink on the bar, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into his bedroom on the yacht. Happy that everyone is still out on deck while he had left to grab himself a drink while taking a quick call.

“What is wrong, petit?” Charles asks, voice as gentle as he can make it as he guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, easily joining her, so he doesn’t have to remove his arm.

She takes a shaky breath, eyes focused on her hands that are now resting her lap, fingers twitching and he reaches with his free hand, stilling the nervous movements.

He says her name, her head nearly snapping upwards at it, the sound of him saying it nearly unfamiliar to her. “It is just me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezes her hands.

Another shaky breath exits her mouth and he watches as her throat bobs as she swallows harshly. “I,” she pauses, licking her lips. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His hand that had been unknowingly rubbing soothing circles on her back freezes for a split second.

“It’s just, I’m late. And I’ve never been late. And I didn’t lie about being on birth control, Cha, I promise! I know we used condoms and I don’t think any of them broke, but I’m late, and I’ve thrown up the last three mornings from the smell of eggs.” Tears are streaming down her face, her words growing more frantic, but he’s unable to speak. “But, please Cha, you have to believe me, I take my pill every day. At nine am, no matter what. I have an alarm set.” Her breathing is now choppy and he finds his words, shushing her.

“I believe you. I’ve seen your alarm, it is okay.” He soothes, lifting his hand from hers and wiping away her tears that are still falling. “Have you taken a test?”

She bites her lip, shaking her head. “No. I bought one, it’s in my bag, but I needed to tell someone.”

“So you came to me.”

She nods and it burns how he has to stop himself from looking satisfied at the answer.

“How about, you drink this and we will talk.” He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand, smiling at the giggle she lets out when he has to lay flat on his back to awkwardly reach it while still keeping contact with her.

“You have options.” He says, the words burning, the idea of all of them burning him, though one for a very different reason.

“I know.” She says, after taking a drink of water. “But I want this baby, if I am. It’s just,” She pauses again, looking so shy and unsure it makes him move closer.

“What? It’s just what?”

She looks at him shyly, fingers back to pulling at her top before he intertwines them with his. “There’s a difference between having sex before marriage and a baby out of wedlock.”

His breath hitches at the words, at the shy suggestion. His want and satisfaction overwhelm him, his grip on her hand tightening, but before she can apologize or take the words back, he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, hoping she can feel his love and devotion to her through the small action. “I would happily marry you if you are pregnant.” The last four words are forced out of his mouth in an odd way.

“I know how much your faith matters to you.” His eyes focus on the necklace she is always wearing, the cross hidden behind her t-shirt, a gift from Pierre when she had turned twelve. “And I would never ask that you sacrifice it like that.”

“It wouldn’t just be the baby if we were to get married. I, I want a real marriage, like my mama and papa.”

He smiles, “we can have a real marriage. I would not mind having one with you.”

“But if you found someone else?”

Charles shakes his head. “I don’t believe that will happen.” His voice is so firm, so certain, that he sees the slight uncertainty leave her eyes. “Now, finish your water.”

She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips and he has to look away before he smiles at the easy way she listened to him.

He is thankful it doesn’t take her long to have to use the bathroom and he watches as she gets up and goes to the small bathroom attached, the door closing with a quiet click.

As soon as it does, he’s unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. Head dropping into his hands as he lets out a silent laugh. It had been a gamble if it would work, getting her pregnant. And really he is lucky, she was unlike Pierre, still unpracticed at sex at nineteen, or rather twenty now, and not realizing she should not feel so much leaking out at the end. But it worked. He had gotten her pregnant. Just barely eight weeks after the first time they had sex.

The flush of the toilet has him raising his head from his hands, body itching to stand and open the bathroom door, to stare at the test and watch as it makes his want for her to fully be his, finally be true.

The bathroom door opens with a small click and he smiles at her, opening his arms for her and she doesn’t hesitate, easily sitting on his lap so he can hold her.

“And now we wait?” He asks, running a hand up and down her back.

She takes a shaky breath. “And now we wait.”

The feeling of her in his arms is enough to stop him from going to the bathroom, to stare at the counter and watch as the test changes. It is all too easy for him to lose himself in her warmth, the smell of her, the brushes of her breath against his neck as she breathes in and out.

“Do you think it’s been five minutes?” Her quiet voice breaks the stillness of the room after a while.

“I think so.”

She’s slow to pull away from him, but before she can try and stand, he grabs her waist, keeping her where she is, before one hand raises to gently hold her face, eyes meeting.

“No matter what the test says, it will be okay. We will figure it out.” Charles tells her, waiting for her to give a nod before pressing their lips together in perhaps one of the most chaste kisses they’ve ever shared.

[spiderb00]

- Fam out #6

Sophia Laforteza x reader 

“You and Sophia never fight, so imagine Yoonchae's surprise when she found out she would have to postpone her plan for a few more days” 

Genre – Fluff     Warnings – Sophia and Yn fight, but it's the usual fam out cuteness 

(request) 

Now playing – Compass, by The Neighbourhood 

The towel on the bed was grabbed roughly, Sophia's hands squeezing the fabric tightly as she hurried downstairs. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but Sophia always let it go, every time it happened she just took a deep breath and put the towel away, talking to you about it and listening to the embarrassed apologies that came out of your mouth. But this time, she was tired.   

As soon as you appeared in Sophia's field of vision, the towel she was holding was thrown over you, covering the view you had of the television. “Seriously, Yn!”   

You quickly tried to get the towel off your head, but it seems you weren't quick enough, because now your character was on the ground, while some other player was stealing the items that were yours. “NO! Sophia, you made me lose.”   

“I don't care about your stupid game! How many times have I told you not to leave a wet towel on the bed? Seriously, Yn. How old are you? Five years old?” Running a hand through her hair in frustration, Sophia watched you get up, while throwing the towel on the sofa.   

“Yeah, but what was the point of waiting until I'd finished the match?” You say, barely having time to react when the video game controller is snatched from your hand and thrown onto the sofa.   

“I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR GAME!” Sophia says, coming closer to you, making you automatically take a step back. “THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU'D PUT THINGS IN THE RIGHT PLACES!”   

“I PUT THINGS IN THE RIGHT PLACES!” The look Sophia gave you made you think about all your life choices, and lower your voice the next second. “I mean... I put things in the right places.”   

“No, you don't! I've been complaining about your towel on the bed for weeks, but what do you do? You keep leaving the towel on the bed!” Sophia says, making your head spin.   

The shouting, the complaining, you know it's your fault, but it was all making you a bit dizzy. “I just forgot...”  

“You didn't forget. You're acting like a damn child, you were addicted to this stupid game and you're simply forgetting the basic things you used to do.” Sophia said.  

She was frustrated too, not just about the towel, but because she'd missed you lately. You were spending so much time on your video game that you were forgetting about her. It had been weeks since you and Sophia had gone out together, weeks since you had done anything nice, or romantic, or even “family”. All because of that stupid video game.   

“Well, I have the right to have a bit of fun too. Maybe I'd like to be with my company, be alone for a bit too!” You say, without thinking.   

Laughing sarcastically, Sophia pushes your chest, making you fall onto the sofa. past you, the Filipino girl picked up her phone, putting on her shoes and texting someone. 

“What are you doing?” You said, getting up from the sofa quickly.   

“I'm going out. You want your space, have your space!”   

The deafening slam of the door was the last thing you heard, trying to follow Sophia only to see an Uber pull up in front of both your houses.   

It was Thursday, the silence in the house bothered you, any noise could be heard, and that made you feel empty. The days have gone by very slowly, since your fight with Sophia, you've been getting more and more upset, the thought that things didn't have to come to this, the thought that it was all a stupid fight, the thought that you could have avoided it. It was stupid.   

You wanted to make up with Sophia, to tell her that you'd been an idiot, that you'd been childish, that she was right and that she could come home now, because you missed her so much. But unfortunately, since that day, you haven't been able to see Sophia, you've respected her space, but you couldn't lie in saying that your heart didn't race every time she sent you a message.   

“Yoonchae is waiting for you.”  

“Come back at eight, we have appointments the next morning.”  

Parking the car in front of the Kats' house, you waited for Yoonchae to get out, seeing the younger girl running towards you. “Hey, kiddo! I missed you.”   

Yoonchae didn't really understand why you and Sophia were fighting, she just assumed it must be something serious, since you've never fought before. How wrong she was... “I missed you too. It's very strange to see you and Sophia apart.”   

As you got into the car, you sighed at Yoonchae's words, you knew that it affected her too, even if only a little. She was used to you and Sophia going out together, spoiling her constantly, looking after her like two mother tigers look after their cubs, and now, it was like she was missing out on part of a good thing.   

“I know...” You say, starting to drive through the streets towards the mall, where Yoonchae would spend all your money. “I'm sorry about that, it was just a stupid fight...”  

“But you'll fix it, right?” Yoonchae's question made your heart skip a few beats.  

Honestly, you had no idea. You and Sophia had never fought like this, you'd never gone more than a day without speaking to each other, you hoped it would never happen, and if it did, it wouldn't be because of something stupid you'd done.   

Giving a tight-lipped smile, you glanced at Yoonchae briefly, only to see the younger girl already looking at you for some kind of confirmation, anything that might reassure her. “Yeah, of course.”  

Boy, you were so lost.  

The clock on your wrist read 8:30 p.m., and you knew Sophia was going to kill you. Damn it, she was already mad at you, and now this? But it wasn't your fault that you were having so much fun with Yoonchae, the younger girl's happiness was making you forget your responsibilities.   

“You're late!” Sophia was already at the door, she was probably spying on the car through the window, and when you parked, she was already ready to unleash the dogs on you.   

“Sorry, we lost track of time...” Yoonchae tries to explain, lifting the shopping bags as if that justifies everything.   

“We have appointments early tomorrow morning, and you know she has trouble getting up early, Yn!” 

“I don't...” Yoonchae tried.  

“I know, I'm sorry, we were just having fun. It's been a while since we've seen each other.”  

“You could see more of her if you came here. Or were you still glued to the video game?”   

“Guys...” Poor maknae.  

“Why do you have to be so mean?”   

“Because someone has to put this family in order!” Sophia said, sighing before pointing in the direction of the bedrooms. “Yoonchae, go get ready for bed, we have a busy day tomorrow.”   

“But...”  

“Do what she's saying Yoonchip.” You say, giving a small smile to the younger girl, who was hesitant to leave you two alone.   

“Are you guys going to fight?”  

“No.”  

“No.”  

Looking at the two of you skeptically, Yoonchae sighed, knowing that she couldn't win the 2x1. Waving goodnight, she headed for her room, leaving you and Sophia staring at each other awkwardly.   

“Sorry.” It was the first thing that escaped your lips. Sophia's sigh was heard, and you took it as a chance to continue. “I know I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that. We've never spent so much time fighting, and that scares me.” You said, pausing, wondering if you were bothering her or if she was ready to have this conversation. “I miss you, baby.”  

Looking at you, Sophia's eyes softened, coming closer to you, she hugged your shoulders. “I miss you too, baby.”   

The truth is that you both recognized how silly it had all been. You knew you'd made a mistake, Sophia was right to complain to you about your sloppy attitudes, since you'd never been like that and seemed to be in a kind of constant black hole with that new game you'd picked up. And Sophia recognized that perhaps she had stressed herself too much, getting overwhelmed with the job of leader and all the things she had to deal with on a daily basis.   

“I'm sorry for yelling at you, and leaving...” Sophia began.  

“It's okay, baby. I understand, you were overwhelmed.” You said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”   

“I love you too.” Sophia said, moving closer and sealing her lips with yours.  

The kiss was full of love, saying all the things you've wanted to say to each other for weeks, killing all the desire you've felt all these days.  

“How about we say goodnight to Yoonchae, and you take me home?” Sophia said, looking at you with a look full of love.   

“I think that's a wonderful idea.”   

Yoonchae's voice was muffled, but the two of you could hear her saying “Come in” right after you knocked on the door.   

You could have sworn you saw Yoonchae's eyes light up when she saw you and Sophia's hands intertwined, finally getting the confirmation that everything would return to normal that she so desperately wanted.  

“We came to say goodnight.” You said, approaching and kissing the forehead of the youngest girl, who was lying between the warm covers.   

“Are you all together again?” Yoonchae asked with a smile on her face.   

“Yes, everything's fine.” Sophia said, kissing the back of your hand as you smiled at her.   

Your cloud of love was soon broken by Yoonchae, who coughed falsely to get your attention. “Well then, since you've made up, I think it would be a good time for you to meet Evie.”   

Frowning, you looked at Sophia with a slight smile, seeing that she didn't know what Yoonchae was talking about either.   

“Who's Evie, Yoonchip?” Sophia asked, a confused smile on the Filipina's face.   

Looking at the two of you, Yoonchae took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, only to make yours tense at her behavior.  

“My girlfriend.”  

Holy shit.   

“YOUR WHAT?”  

Hey babies, how are you?

It's been a while, hasn't it? We're already on part 6 of fam out, and I'm surprised this series has so many chapters.

Anyway, I've been very busy these days, I have some asks to answer, and I'm going to answer it!

just a quick stop around here, drink some water, stay safe

xoxo, spider