#i mean what do i know i didn't pay attention to them or anything i just rmr them from x factor

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a serious lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly��her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

request: omg, so i requested the recent vamp story where the sister is taken and what you made was beyond what i was expecting :O it was so good and that you for taking my request!! i have another and was wondering if you’d be open to a part two of some sort? i was thinking maybe one where sister is back hunting again after taking enough time to heal and has a run-in with some vamps on a hunt with sam and dean and they’re just really protective and careful regarding her trauma of the incident. thank you as always, love reading your stuff!! xx

A/N: I’m so glad you enjoyed it!!! That makes me so happy omg. So I added a different story in first and then finished with the story you requested! I thought it would be interesting to see the trauma immediately after and then see how she would react once she got back into hunting and realized it was a vampire just like you said! Hope you love this one too!! Requests are always open please feel free to request anything and everything :))

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/winchestersisterimaginessss/773244669590110208/request-hiii-i-was-wondering-if-youd-do-a-fic

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The past few days had felt like a blur—moments of calm, but mostly filled with the quiet, relentless hum of recovery. You were still healing physically, though the scars from your vampire attack had left deeper marks than you cared to admit. The wounds on your body weren’t as fresh anymore, but the memories, the trauma, clung to you like a second skin.

Right now, you sat on the couch, tucked under a blanket, with a bowl of popcorn resting on your lap. Dean was sprawled out next to you, his fingers casually flicking through channels on the TV. He hadn’t said much about the attack, but you could tell he was furious about what had happened to you. Still, he knew what you needed tonight—distraction.

Dean, being Dean, was doing his best to keep your mind off the bandages Sam had to change again. Sam had done this for the past few days—cleaning the bites on your neck, chest, and thighs. The sting of antiseptic, the way it burned and tugged at your skin, had started to feel like a trigger every time, sending you spiraling into panic.

So, Dean had put on some ridiculous rom-com. He knew how much you hated them, but that was the point. He was making you focus on something else, something harmless. He made sure the movie had all the clichéd plotlines that he knew would make you roll your eyes and distract you long enough for Sam to get everything ready.

"How is this even a thing?" you muttered, picking at the popcorn, trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at the thought of the next round of bandages. "I mean, seriously. Who falls in love because of a wedding dress? It's just… ridiculous."

Dean chuckled, glancing over at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That’s the magic of these movies, kiddo. You don’t have to make sense of them."

You snorted, shaking your head as you tried to focus on the screen, but the images of Sam’s hands on your skin, cleaning your wounds, kept sneaking their way into your thoughts. Every time Sam touched the bandages, it felt like the past was clawing its way back, and the panic that followed was almost worse than the physical pain.

Dean must have noticed the change in your expression, because he immediately turned down the volume, his face softening as he looked at you. “You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low but filled with concern. You didn't even need to see the worry in his eyes to know he was paying attention.

You swallowed hard, forcing a half-smile. “Yeah, just… thinking. I don’t know if I’m ready for Sam to change them again.”

Dean’s lips twitched into a sympathetic frown. He had been through this before with you. He knew what it was like, not just the physical pain of the bites, but the aftermath, the mental toll it took on you. “He’ll go easy on you, I promise. We have to make sure they’re healing properly.”

You didn’t answer, instead shifting awkwardly on the couch, avoiding his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but there was this knot in your stomach that wouldn’t let go. The thought of Sam getting close to those marks again—touching your skin where they’d been—just felt like too much.

Before you could say anything more, the door to the hallway creaked open, and Sam appeared in the doorway, medical kit in hand. He was dressed in a plain gray hoodie and sweats, looking every bit the calm, collected Winchester he always was, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the worry there that made your chest tighten.

“How you feeling?” Sam asked, his voice as gentle as always. He knew the routine by now—he wasn’t going to rush, wasn’t going to force you to do anything, but the time had come. He couldn’t let you keep avoiding it, either. “We should take a look at those wounds again. They need fresh bandages.”

Your stomach dropped at the sight of the kit. You were already shaking slightly, your hands clenching into fists around the blanket. You felt yourself pulling inward, as though shrinking away from the inevitable. Sam’s presence wasn’t a problem—it was the association with the pain and vulnerability you’d been feeling that made everything worse.

Dean must have seen your discomfort because he was quick to push the popcorn aside and scoot closer, pulling you into his side. “Hey, look, Sam’s not gonna do anything you’re not ready for. But we can’t keep putting this off,” he said, his tone firm but warm. “We’ll get through this together, alright?”

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it hard to breathe. Sam, still standing in the doorway with the medical kit, took a few slow steps toward you, but he didn’t move too fast. He didn’t want to startle you.

“I’ll go slow,” Sam promised, holding up the kit in a gesture that, while well-meaning, only made the anxiety in your chest rise. “I’ll talk you through everything and only do what you’re comfortable with. We can take breaks if you need them.”

Dean, sensing your discomfort, nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Look, I know this is a pain in the ass, kid, but we’re gonna get you through it. Sam’s gonna take care of you, alright?”

Your eyes flicked between Sam and Dean. Sam was trying so hard to be gentle, his face full of quiet understanding.

“Okay,” you whispered, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You didn’t want to say it aloud, but the truth was, you couldn’t avoid this forever. You had to face the pain. You had to face it head-on if you were going to heal.

Sam moved in, sitting across from you with the kit on the table in front of him. He gave you that comforting smile of his, the one that always made you feel a little bit safer, even when your world felt out of control.

He opened the kit, and you immediately tensed, feeling the weight of the moment settle on you. Sam glanced up at you, his eyes softening with empathy. “I’m right here. It’s just a bandage change. We’ll be done before you know it.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the rush of dread coursing through your veins. You could feel your heart beginning to race again as Sam prepared the antiseptic. The smell of it hit you first—sharp, sterile, and clinical. It made your stomach twist.

Dean’s hand settled on your shoulder, grounding you. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice steady but light, as if he was trying to keep everything casual. “We’re watching this terrible chick flick together. You’re gonna survive this, trust me.”

You didn’t know if it worked, but you found your eyes trained on the TV, watching the movie unfold in front of you even though you couldn’t focus on a single word. The only thing that mattered was Dean’s hand on your shoulder, and the fact that Sam was there, working slowly, carefully.

Sam moved with deliberate precision, peeling away the old bandages with practiced hands, and you could feel the sting of the antiseptic as it touched your raw skin. It burned like fire, and you bit back a gasp, your nails digging into the blanket in your lap.

Dean, noticing the shift in your expression, leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You’re doing great, kiddo. Just a little more.”

It was the constant pressure of his presence, the steadiness of Sam’s touch, that kept you from completely losing it. Sam cleaned the wounds on your thighs, your neck, and your chest with gentle care, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin. It was a slow, deliberate process, each movement purposeful, but every moment sent a jolt of panic through you. The pain, the stinging, the vulnerability—it all felt like a flood you couldn’t control. Your breath caught as Sam’s fingers brushed against the tender skin near your collarbone. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to push it all away, but you couldn’t. It felt like you were back there again—tied down, helpless, vulnerable. The memories wrapped themselves around you, tight and suffocating, like those vampires’ hands had once been.

You gasped, the sudden panic gripping your chest. "I’m… I’m scared," you whispered, barely able to say the words. You hadn’t meant to speak aloud. You hadn’t meant to break down in front of them, but it all spilled out before you could stop it.

Dean froze, his head snapping toward you, his face twisting in concern. He hated seeing you like this. Hated it. His hand tightened on your shoulder as he leaned in closer, his voice low and steady. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.”

Sam, too, softened, his movements slowing as he looked up from the antiseptic bottle. His eyes were filled with understanding and concern. “I know it’s hard, bug. It’s okay to be scared. Let me know when you feel comfortable enough for me to continue.” Sam said quietly, setting the antiseptic aside for a moment as he gave you space to breathe.

The room felt heavy. The faint hum of the movie was the only thing that seemed to fill the silence, but it wasn’t enough to push away the tightness in your chest. It felt like the walls were closing in, and the sting of the antiseptic that had once been a minor irritation now felt like a brand on your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the anxiety back down, but it was impossible. The images, the sounds, the feeling of those vampire hands—the terror—it all crashed over you in waves. The feeling of being completely powerless, unable to stop what was happening to you. Your breath hitched, quick and shallow, as you tried to calm yourself, but it wasn’t working.

“Look at me, please,” Dean’s voice was soft, urging but not pushing. “I need you to focus, just on me, alright?”

You opened your eyes slowly, finding Dean’s face inches from yours, his eyes steady, intense, and full of reassurance. His thumb brushed over your shoulder in slow, comforting strokes. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

You nodded, tears welling up but not falling, a mixture of relief and terror making it hard to breathe. The vulnerability you felt from the scars—inside and out—was overwhelming, but there was something about Dean’s presence, his protective nature, that made you feel like you could breathe again.

Sam, who had been waiting patiently for you to regain some composure, leaned forward, his hands gentle as he began to work again, but this time, slower. His movements were deliberate, taking care to ease the tension you were still holding in your body. He was so quiet, so careful, and it made the process bearable. The burn of the antiseptic was still there, but Sam’s steady presence was grounding.

“I’m here. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just a little more,” Sam said, his voice calm and soothing.

Your breath steadied as you focused on Dean, still holding your gaze, his thumb now rubbing circles against your skin. The movie was long forgotten, the characters and their ridiculous romantic gestures a distant hum in the background. It was just you, Sam, and Dean. And in that moment, the pressure in your chest eased, just a little.

But then, as Sam’s fingers brushed the edge of the bandage near your collarbone, your body stiffened again, your breath catching in your throat. The pressure of being touched in the same spot—it felt too familiar, too wrong. And before you could stop it, the images flashed back—the vampire’s cold hands, their grip on you, their teeth sinking into your skin. You were back there, trapped, unable to escape.

You gasped again, your eyes flying open wide, and you shot up from the couch, pulling away from Sam’s hands as panic overwhelmed you. Your chest was tight, the air suddenly thick and impossible to breathe.

“No, no, no,” you gasped, backing away quickly, hands trembling. “I can’t… I can’t do this. Not again.”

Dean was immediately on his feet, his arms outstretched toward you, his voice frantic with concern. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re safe. We’re right here, kid.”

But you couldn’t stop the flood of panic that was choking you, the memories threatening to swallow you whole. You shook your head, backing further into the corner, trying to create space between yourself and everything that was happening.

Sam, too, stood up slowly, watching you carefully, his hands held up in front of him, not wanting to force anything. “It’s okay, bug. You’re okay. We’re not gonna make you do anything you’re not ready for. Just breathe, alright?”

But your breath was ragged, too shallow to fill your lungs, and you couldn’t shake the image of yourself tied down, vulnerable. The fear of it was so raw, so fresh, that it felt like you were living it all over again.

Dean quickly moved to you, his hands gripping your shoulders, his voice low but insistent. “Look at me. You’re okay, kiddo. You’re not back there. You’re right here, with me and Sam. You’re safe.”

You felt him there, his warmth seeping through you, grounding you in a way that only Dean could. His hands were gentle on your arms, but firm enough to remind you that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I’m right here,” he repeated, his voice unwavering. “You’re not going anywhere, and neither are we.”

You nodded, but the tension still hadn’t fully left your body. The tears were right there, but you fought them back, swallowing down the sobs that tried to claw their way out. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want to break down in front of them, but you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that kept rising.

Sam took a small step forward, speaking softly. “You know you can trust me, sweetheart. We’ll work through this and take our time, no pressure, no rush.”

You swallowed hard, and as you turned your gaze back to Sam, you saw the unwavering kindness in his eyes, the patience that had always been there for you. And you knew, deep down, that with them, you could find your way back.

Slowly, you took a deep breath. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face it, but you couldn’t hide forever.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m ready… but only if we go slow.”

Dean’s grip tightened slightly, offering you that final reassurance before letting go. “Take all the time you need, kid. We’re with you.” Sam gently started working on you again, his eyes trained on you, seeing if there was a shift in your expression so he could keep you comfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice strained.

Sam didn’t stop. He kept working, cleaning the wounds, bandaging you up, never once pushing you faster than you could handle. "No need to apologize," he said softly. "You're safe, and you're doing fine."

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But it was hard to reconcile what you felt inside—how each new bandage felt like a painful reminder—against the gentle, quiet assurances Sam and Dean kept offering. They couldn’t erase the past, but maybe, just maybe, they could help you move forward. One small step at a time.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Sam finished. The antiseptic had burned, but now the bandages were clean, fresh, and the tension in the room slowly ebbed away. You exhaled slowly, your chest still tight, but relieved it was over.

“See?” Dean said with a soft chuckle, pulling you closer. “You did it.”

You leaned into him, the warmth of his presence a balm to the rawness of your nerves. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe the past would always be there, lurking in the shadows. But with Dean and Sam by your side, you had a fighting chance. One step at a time.

And maybe, just maybe, you could heal.

——————

The weeks that had passed since the vampire attack felt like a disorienting blur. Every day, you were confronted with reminders—physical scars that Sam still gently helped dress every few days, the tender bruises where the vampire had sunk its teeth, and the nightmares that would drag you awake in a cold sweat. Sometimes, you couldn’t remember where the nightmare ended and the real world began. But you fought to push through it. You had to. And yet, the deeper parts of you—those hidden wounds—remained raw and unhealed.

But each time you pushed through. You started getting back into hunting and started to get back to the normal you once knew. That night, you tried to focus. You sat in the diner booth with your brothers, surrounded by the smell of stale coffee and the hum of fluorescent lights. You tried to concentrate on the case files spread in front of you, but it was hard. The tension in the air made everything feel ten times heavier, like you were carrying a weight that no one else could see. Sam and Dean, on the other hand, were in their element, discussing the details of the case in front of them.

At first, it seemed like any other missing persons case. Disappearances that could have been caused by anything—wild animals, maybe. But then you noticed the detail that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up: the bodies had been found drained of blood. No signs of struggle, no other injuries. Just lifeless, empty, drained.

And that’s when you saw the look exchanged between Sam and Dean—a quiet, knowing glance that spoke volumes without a single word. Sam’s jaw tightened, and Dean’s face darkened. Their eyes met again, this time just for a brief second, but it was enough for you to know.

Without a word, Sam spoke, his voice steady but laced with the knowledge of what this could mean. “I think we’re dealing with a vampire.”

The word hit you like a physical blow. Your stomach churned, and the room around you felt suddenly far too small, far too tight. You could feel the blood draining from your face, your heart hammering in your chest. You felt the world go quiet, the pounding in your ears drowning out everything else. The word “vampire” clung to the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating.

You had to swallow. You had to breathe.

“Wait,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand, shaking, gripped the edge of the table as you scrambled to keep your composure. “No… no, it can’t be… I mean, it could be something else, right? Something we’re missing, maybe? It’s not a… it’s not one of those, right?”

The panic was already clawing at your throat. You could feel it. The fear was rising faster than you could keep up with. Your chest felt tight, and every breath came with a sharp, painful gasp. You tried to force the words out of your mouth, tried to convince yourself that there had to be another explanation, that it wasn’t what you feared, that it couldn’t be.

Dean and Sam exchanged another glance, their eyes locking again, this time softer, full of concern. They were already moving into protective mode, but they were careful. Too careful, and it sent a surge of dread straight to your chest. Dean’s brows furrowed as he leaned forward, his tone softer now but no less firm.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice was calm, but you could hear the weight of worry in it. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re here. We’ve got you, alright?”

But the words weren’t enough. You could feel your hands trembling as they gripped the table harder. The world around you felt like it was closing in. The dim lighting of the diner seemed to flicker in and out, and every sound felt distant. All you could hear was the rushing of blood in your ears, and that word. Vampire. Vampire.

“No, no, no…,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you tried to force the panic back down. “It can’t be! We… we must be missing something. It can’t be one of them—not again.”

You were panicking now. There was no stopping it. It was like a wave crashing over you, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except feel the terror. The memories were flooding back, crashing into your thoughts like jagged glass. The bite. The cold hands. The fangs. The helplessness. The terror.

Dean saw it. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way you were trembling violently now, the way your breath came in shallow, frantic gasps. His face softened with concern, and his hand was immediately on your shoulder, his touch firm but gentle.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He was right there in front of you, his voice low and soothing. “Breathe. You’re safe, okay? You’re with us. You’re not alone in this.”

Sam was by your side now, his tall frame leaning in close, his hand resting gently on your arm, trying to steady you. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice steady. “We’ll take it slow, alright? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

But the words, as comforting as they were, didn’t reach you. The panic was too much. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the fear from clawing up your throat. The memories were too fresh, too close. You could still feel the bite on your neck, the feeling of the vampire’s cold hands digging into your skin, the way you’d almost died that night. It was all too much.

Dean’s grip tightened on your shoulder, his eyes locking with yours. His voice dropped to a softer, more reassuring tone. “Listen to me. We’re not asking you to be brave, not right now. We’re not throwing you into anything you can’t handle. You’re not going through this alone, alright? We’ll be with you every step of the way. Every step.”

You nodded, your breath coming in ragged sobs as you tried to force the panic back down. But it was hard. It felt impossible.

Sam squeezed your hand gently, his voice filled with understanding. “We’ll take it slow. If you don’t want to go out there, that’s okay. We’ll make the call. We’ll figure out a different approach.”

Your eyes flickered between them, the fear still holding you hostage. They weren’t pushing. They weren’t rushing you. They weren’t going to leave you to face this alone, no matter what. It was in the way they looked at you, the way they spoke, the way they moved closer. They were careful, so careful with you, and it made you realize something deep in your chest.

You weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to face the terror.

The next few hours felt like an eternity. The night air was heavy, thick with the scent of decay and the sound of your own heartbeat thumping against your ribs. Each step you took toward the dilapidated house felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the fear coiling tighter in your chest with every breath. You had been through this before—hunted vampires, faced down demons, survived things you never thought possible. But tonight was different. Tonight, you felt like you were walking toward something that might break you, something you couldn’t control.

Dean was in front, steady and sure, his movements swift and fluid, his eyes sharp with focus. Sam was right behind him, tall and calm as always, his brow furrowed with quiet concern. And you? You were somewhere in between—pushing forward but struggling to suppress the deep anxiety gnawing at your insides.

You could see it in their eyes, the way they both kept glancing over their shoulders at you, making sure you were right there. They’d never let you go into this alone, not after everything. They knew you better than anyone. They knew the scars, the fears, and the pieces of you that still hadn’t fully healed from the last encounter with vampires—the one that had nearly broken you.

"Stay close," Dean’s voice was sharp, but it held an underlying tenderness, one that made your chest tighten. He was looking at you now, his eyes softer than they had been when the hunt first began. He could tell you were already on edge, could see the way your hands were shaking slightly as you gripped your weapon.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You didn’t want to be weak. You didn’t want them to see how scared you were. But no matter how hard you tried, the fear lingered, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave.

The house loomed ahead, dark and menacing. Broken windows, a door hanging off its hinges, the faintest flicker of movement within. A vampire was in there, preying on the town’s innocent. But tonight, the vampire felt different. This one was going to test you, push you past your limits in ways you weren’t sure you were ready for.

The moment Dean pushed the door open, it creaked eerily, sending a jolt of fear through you. You couldn’t help but flinch.

"You good?" Sam’s voice came from behind you, softer than Dean’s, but no less filled with concern. You tried to force a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

"Yeah," you said, but even to your own ears, it didn’t sound convincing.

"You sure?" Sam pressed. His hand brushed against your shoulder, a quiet gesture of support.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t ready. But you had to be. You couldn’t let them down. You couldn’t let yourself down.

"I'm sure," you lied, the words shaky. But Sam’s eyes didn’t lie either. He wasn’t buying it. He didn’t have to. He knew you well enough to see the cracks in the facade you were desperately trying to hold together.

Dean was already moving ahead, his footsteps confident, his gun drawn. Sam followed close behind, keeping a wary eye on you as he took up the rear. You kept pace with them, the weight of your fear trying to pull you back, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself that you couldn’t break now. Not here. Not with them.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the dark, a low hiss. The vampire. It was here.

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, everything felt too fast. Too real. Your breath came in shallow gasps, and you found yourself freezing, unable to move, unable to speak.

Dean was ahead, focused on the approaching figure, his hand steady with his knife. Sam was behind him, ready, but you were still stuck, frozen in place. You could feel the panic clawing up your throat, choking you. No, not again. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

But it was too late.

The vampire shot forward in a blur of motion, and before you could even think, it was on you. Cold, clammy hands wrapped around your throat, lifting you off your feet, slamming you back into the wall with enough force to rattle your bones. You gasped for air, but its grip tightened, cutting off your breath.

Everything around you went hazy—the world narrowing to the choking pressure at your neck. Your head spun, and all you could think was No. Not again.

Dean and Sam were shouting, but their voices were distant. Your vision blurred, the edges growing dark, your mind starting to slip into panic.

Not again. Not like this. I can’t die like this.

But then something inside you snapped. A fierce, desperate instinct you didn’t know you still had. You shoved against the vampire’s chest with all the force you could muster, your body shaking with effort. For a moment, it stumbled, loosening its grip.

This is your chance.

With trembling hands, you reached for the knife, and in a blur of motion, you cute off its head.

You stood there, panting, staring at the empty space where the vampire had been just moments before. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, the adrenaline surging through you, but the shaking had intensified. You couldn’t stop it. Your legs felt weak, your hands trembling as they gripped the knife, your body fighting to stay upright.

And then, through the haze, you heard them—Sam and Dean. Their voices, louder now, breaking through the storm in your mind.

"Are you okay?" Dean’s voice was low but filled with concern, as he rushed to your side. His hand was on your shoulder, steadying you, but it didn’t erase the worry in his eyes. He was trying to keep it together, but you could see how proud he was. Proud, and afraid.

"Yeah," you whispered, but it didn’t feel like you were answering him. Your voice was weak, the words a mere echo of what you wanted to say.

Sam was right behind him, his face full of soft relief. “You did it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You saved us. You saved yourself.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but you fought them back, not wanting to show the vulnerability that was already spilling out. You had done it. You had killed the vampire.

But you were shaking uncontrollably now, your body betraying you as the reality of it all hit. The fear was still there, gnawing at your gut, but beneath it all was something else—something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Pride.

Dean’s hand gripped your arm more firmly now, but it was gentle—like he was scared you might fall apart. "Hey, you okay?" he asked again, his voice softer, laced with tenderness. He was watching you closely, searching for any sign that you might break.

You nodded, the motion small, but firm. "I’m okay," you said, your voice a little steadier. But you weren’t okay—not yet. Not mentally. You needed time.

But Dean knew that and didn’t push you. Instead he just pulled you into his chest, his touch gentle with understanding. "You did good. Really good."

Sam stepped in, his hand resting on your back, his expression full of pride. "That was great. You fought back. That’s something."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath. "I was scared," you admitted, the words coming out in a whisper. "I didn’t know if I could…"

Dean stepped pulled you in tighter, his eyes softening. "We knew you could. You’ve always been stronger than you think."

They were proud of you. And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long while, you were starting to believe it too.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

I've seen a lot of people saying that Belos would have been better off being a character on another show and that Owl House didn't deserve him, but I've never seen people regret that Owl House doesn't belong to a channel with an older audience, like Adult Swim. Think about it. I love Disney for all the things that other people love and hate about it, but their main audience is children. Of course, everyone's favorite Alex Hirsch, was able to show a LOT of things not for children in Gravity Falls, but basically this show is about a town of humans, where the characters are mostly humans who do human things. Monsters, as part of the plot, appear in only twenty-five percent of the episodes and we know almost nothing about how they live. Boiling Isles is a place in another realm, a giant rotting corpse of an ancient powerful titan inhabited by witches and demons. Boiling rain is pouring from the sky, the oceans are boiling too, creatures like fire bees, spider-spewing griffins, slitherbeasts and hand dragons live all over the corpse. And despite this, witches and sentient demons behave like humans, react to things like humans. For fandom witches are just humans with different ears and magic and practical the same technologies and events and clothes that we have. They have only few things that makes them different from humans. We know that they make pies out of sentient fairies, we saw how Eda ate Adegast, we heard Lilith call Luz Eda's “human pet” and heard Eda say “Witches eating babies is so 1693”, but no one pays attention to it. People mostly discuss how cute Lumity is, or how bad Belos, Odalia, Tibbles and Kikimora are. People prefer to consider the Boiling Isles as some kind of utopia where everything is fine. But it’s boring. At first, the show showed one thing, and then abruptly began to show something completely different. Eda and King said that there is no weather on the Boiling Isles, but we never saw anything but boiling rain. We have never seen plagues, gorenados, shale hail, painbows and knife season.  

It's sad that people forget that Boiling Isles is a completely different world. It's very rare to see fanfiction or comics that take this into account. I have some Belos Redemption AU headcanons touching on this topic, but I have concerns that I won't get an answer. What do you think?

Hey, Anon!

I totally agree with you that the series should have had the witches act and appear more differently than the humans in the show, and about how the Isles isn't a perfect utopia.

Also, I think the Owl House works fine as a show for children / younger and older teens.

Not sure what you mean by when say that you won't get an answer (like I won't answer your ask?), BUT, AAA, WISHING YOU THE BEST ON YOUR BELOS HEADCANONS !!! 🫶

[mmmichyyy]

inspired by this snippet from the las culturistas podcast to write this silly gallavich ficlet 🥪

it's two in the afternoon, and ian is bored out of his skull.

the office temp job was supposed to be, well, temporary. an easy way to earn some cash, contribute to the squirrel fund, save a couple bucks for a rainy day.

but three months later he's still the office bitch - ordering office supplies, organizing files, killing a couple trees a day because documents can't be printed double-sided for some reason, getting everyone's coffee order, messing up everyone's coffee order (god forbid brenda drinks a latte with foam once in a while) - while spending every waking minute fighting the urge to blow his brains out.

ian checks his watch. two hours, fifty-five minutes, thirty-six seconds until he clocks out. thank god it's fucking friday, at least.

the great thing about being a lowly temp worker is the fact that no one pays him any attention. his cubicle is in a dusty corner with a desk and a worn out swivel chair that endless other temps have sat their ass on before him. as long as he finished his tasks for the day and people are sufficiently caffeinated, he can be on his phone and no one can say shit.

so obviously, he's swiping grindr on company time, because what the hell else is he going to do?

mickey. 23. dick me down hard or fuck off.

hm. the guy only has two pictures - one mirror selfie, blurry, though his slicked-back dark hair and blue eyes standout on milky skin. damn. already ian is into him.

but then. the other mirror pic, taken of his backside, is what makes ian believe in some kind of higher power up in the sky. because holy shit this guy might just have the nicest ass he's ever seen?? round, plump, partially covered in soft grey briefs, and ready to be devoured. hello?? yes??

ian: free tonight? i can dick you down good and hard :)

mickey: how long

ian: however long you want baby

mickey: i meant your dick dumbass

ian: oh

[attached image: my_dick_morning_wood_69.png]

mickey: meet me in 30 mins

ian blinks. thirty minutes? he glances at the time. 2:18pm. what kind of guy wants to meet for a hook-up in broad daylight? is he a sociopath? or a murderer who likes to see their victim clearly as he stabs them multiple times?

whatever. for a quality ass like that, it's a risk he'll have to take.

as usual, no one in the office even glances his way as he hastily grabs his backpack and bolts towards the elevator.

ian: address?

*

"i think you broke me," ian pants, flopping on his back, boneless and completely satiated. "oh my god. how... where did you even learn how to do that?"

mickey shrugs and casually lights a cigarette, as if he didn't just rock ian's entire world. twice. and again. "lots of practice."

"i didn't even know someone could bend that way," ian says in awe, completely fascinated by the magical gremlin with the nimble fingers. "and the thing with your tongue?? are you a trained acrobat or something?"

mickey blows out a line of smoke and offers up the cigarette between his fingers, to which ian eagerly accepts.

"i know what i like, and i'm good at it." mickey lightly pats ian on the cheek. ian responds by melting into a pile of goo. "you weren't so bad yourself, stud."

oh. oh no. ian is done for.

before he can say anything or unhinge his jaw wide open for round three? four? his stomach gurgles out a loud groan. very unsexy, quite possibly the least attractive sound, ever. ian blushes, hoping mickey didn't hear it. but then–

"you wanna get a sandwich?"

ian twists his neck to the side so fast, he nearly gets whiplash.

"what?!"

mickey snatches the nearly finished filter from ian's hand and stubs it out on the side table ashtray. jumps up from the bed and tosses over ian's shirt from the floor. "c'mon, get your ginger ass up. there's a deli down on the corner that makes a mean spicy meatball sub and the parm is to fuckin' die for. been thinking 'bout it all day."

"you wanted to have sex in the afternoon and now you want a sandwich? with me?" ian has had his fair share of hookups, but never has he met someone so sexually deviant yet simultaneously endearing like mickey. is he dreaming right now? "seriously, who are you??"

mickey scoffs. "you think i'm going to take it up the ass after eating a meatball sub? you're a fuckin' idiot. so you wanna go stuff yourself with tomato sauce or not?"

yeah. ian is in love.

[autistic-danieljackson]

So there's a stand-alone DVD of both parts of Rising and on most streaming sites and the season 1 DVD they're also grouped together as one episode and I'm seeing the runtime listed as the same but I swear there are extra scenes on the stand-alone DVD. Am I crazy? Is this a thing??

[anonyanonymouse]

I'm so disappointed I won't be able to immediately tune in on the twst update like usual 😭 I'm pretty sure this is the first time I won't be watching it right after it's up, and not only that, but my early morning obligation preventing me from enjoying the update is going to last FIVE hours 😭😭😭

[autumnrory]

oh my god i reread this 1d fic and got to the end and the author mentioned their other fanfiction account in the notes that has emblem3 fics and i was like that sounds familiar and i COMPLETELY forgot about the band but i cannot imagine being able to write fic about them skjdfjks

[bumblehoneybee]

idk why but i just imagined shadow circling the reader like all hedgehogs do when they like each other. it's weird but the little guy can't bring himself to confess in a proper way (story request? if u could🙏)

Come Full Circle

Shadow was a weird guy. He just was. But anyone who grew up how he did would be weird, so you put a lot of his strange habits out of your mind. So, you didn't pay it much attention when Shadow's habit of pacing turned into him walking around you.

It wasn't as obvious as him obsessively grooming his quills or him checking his shoes when he was bored. Shadow moved with purpose more often than not, so as he made his way around you, tapping his foot and scanning the perimeter, it took a few laps for you to realize that he was orbiting you like a moon caught by your gravity.

"Everything alright?" You asked, futzing with your outfit to not appear put off by his behavior. The last thing you wanted was to weird him out of things he did to comfort himself. Gaia knew he hardly allowed himself these things.

"Mm." Was all Shadow gave you, his face obscured.

So you shrugged and continued on with your day.

However, when the day winded down into dinnertime, you found yourself surrounded by others, most importantly other hedgehogs. Amy and Sonic specifically stared at you and the ever-orbiting Shadow with wide eyes, which unnerved you. And when you were unnerved, Shadow was biting, so at least they weren't staring for long.

Instead, you caught them giggling to each other, Amy especially joyful.

She caught your hand when Sonic got Shadow's attention with a race.

"Shadow's been circling you, huh?" She asked, smile small but knowing.

"Yeah?" You cocked your head. "What? Don't tell me it means something."

"For a hedgehog like Shadow," Amy began, pausing so you'd huff at her, "it means he likes you."

You were not impressed. "Cool. I like him too."

Amy slugged your arm, and like a bolt of lightning, Shadow appeared before the two of you. You stumbled forward into him, but he easily caught you, giving Amy a halfhearted glare. She didn't speak, but put her hands up in faux surrender.

"Loves you." She said to you, skipping off to soothe the bruised ego of one blue hedgehog. You watched her go, eyes widening when Sonic did a series of laps around her, seemingly just happy to see her.

Loves you. Oh Gaia, ohhhhhhh. . .

Shadow's voice snapped you into reality. "What did she say? Loves you?"

You shook your head to clear it. "Guess she loves me."

Shadow huffed a little, confused but unwilling to ask more questions. Seeing him finally still for once, you carefully began to step behind him. Shadow turns with you for a moment, brows furrowed, but they widen as you begin your second lap.

You had never seen him so still. A smile tugged at your face, but you didn't tease, didn't say anything. Instead, you circled your lovely hedgehog, watching him start to squirm and blush.

But he didn't leave.

Hopefully you'd get a kiss out of him today too.

[hellsslibrary]

Sae + feminization and breeding kink please I need it

You can make him an omega too if you want

"Come on, dude. Skirts were originally made for men, they rock them way better than girls..."

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : THIS WAS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. If anything, for the script I took that extra scene where they assumed Sae was a crossdresser, but if he really was and that makeup bag wasn't from Aiku's ex, yeah. So you can imagine that picture of Sae.

!!Warnings: crossdressing, light feminization, breeding kink (obviously), top!reader, bottom!Sae, no dom/sub boundaries, but Sae is a little more dominant if you choose (sorry, power bottom Sae world domination), praise and worship, riding, thoughts about what Sae would be like if he were a girl, but they're not serious, at the end Sae puts lipstick on your lips because I thought it was cute.

The soft rustle of the sheets, Sae's almost inaudible sighs, your moans, the slight groaning of the bed and the slapping of bodies against each other echoed in the large bedroom. Your eyes were fixed on Sae's calm and contented face as he slowly rode your cock.

His damn long eyelashes were even more visible because of the mascara on them, his lips were tinted with cute pink lipstick, and his cheeks were blushing not only from your actions with him. There were gold earrings in his ears, as well as a small necklace around his neck. On his torso was your shirt, which was not buttoned up, and on his hips was a regular pleated skirt and fuck... It was the hottest view in the world.

"So... What were you angry about when you came?" you ask, breaking out of your thoughts about admiring the perfect man on your cock, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you.

"I'm not angry, just a little disappointed. This infantile striker from the U-20 was rummaging through my bag... Found makeup there," Sae says evenly, interrupted by a light sigh from his lips as your hips slightly moved up during his bouncing. "They put it down to the fact that I have a girlfriend or something. It doesn't matter, don't think about it."

"You? A girlfriend? Funny..." you giggle, squeezing his waist tighter, which is why he started pushing on your shaft a little harder, pressing his hips on you. "When you reveal our relationship, it's obviously... Will make them disappointed? What should people think in such a situation? I don't know."

"I'm telling you, don't think about it. Even if they thought it was mine, it doesn't matter at all," Sae shakes his head at your thoughts, tightening his grip on your chest, leaving red marks from his nails there.

"Mmm, what do you think you would look like if you were a girl? Well, I mean, your breasts... I think it would be small, it would suit you. Maybe A-cup? Maximum B-cup..?"

"Idiot, what are you thinking about? If I were a girl, nothing would have changed... You just wouldn't get out of my cunt," the midfielder whispers, frowning slightly, moving his hips in a circular motion and then shrugging his shoulders. "But I think so. Small breasts sound logical. You are gay, why are you having such thoughts?"

"I don't know... You'd be such a queen... You're still the queen, though," you chuckle, lightly pressing on Sae's lower back, making him arch back, admiring his slender but muscular curves.

He just raises an eyebrow at these words, but doesn't pay attention to them, closing his eyes again and just focusing on how your cock feels inside him.

But your eyes didn't close for a second. How could they when a literal deity was riding your dick? Exactly, no way. You tried to absorb his every reaction, the way his breathing hitches, the way his hips twitch, the way his eyelashes flutter, the way he bites his lip to hide his moans, all of it.

You would literally worship this body without ceasing, if it were physically possible, of course. He would kiss every inch of you, come up with the most original and romantic epithets just for him, just for the beautiful man in front of you.

"Sae?"you ask carefully, looking at him, and his only reaction is to mumble. "You like it when I'm in your bussy, right?"

Sae's eyes immediately open and he stops his movements, looking at you with such a disapproving look that even your cock inside Sae moves from humiliation... Or something else.

"What is it... Bussy?" He's asking, even though he clearly doesn't want to know the answer to that question, judging by your face, which is red with shame and obvious excitement.

"Pussy. Man's. Like a boy plus a pussy and you get a bussy..."

Sae just blinks slowly at your explanation, and then sighs as expected. After all, what did he expect from you? And he resumes his movements, making you whimper softly at the feeling of him squeezing around you.

"Yes, I like it," he whispers confidently, flicking your nipple, which makes you blush even more, but you're clearly smiling contentedly, and then you raise yourself up on your elbows and kiss him.

The elder Itoshi just sighs, but puts his hands on your shoulders, responding with a kiss, which is why most of you have to push into him obviously not rhythmically, given the not particularly comfortable position, but it doesn't matter. The way his lips slide against yours and you feel the faint taste of chocolate from his lipstick, the way he moaned softly into your mouth was enough.

He pulls away first when he notices that you're whimpering from lack of movement and gently pushes you back onto the pillows, eyeing you. A barely visible smile suddenly appears on his face, only the corners of his lips turn up.

"Sae, why are you smiling, hmm?" you ask, rubbing his sides, thinking maybe he's amused by your impatience or something, but the next second he grabs your chin, grabbing something from the bedside table and opening it.

"You look good with my lipstick," he whispers, carefully smearing the lipstick on your slightly moist, pouty lips, and then pulling away, slowly running his thumb along the edge of your lips, where his own lipstick smeared after the kiss. "You also obviously enjoyed the taste, no?"

"If you were on my face, it would be even better... Mmm!" escapes your lips, but Sae just snorts and kisses you again, grabbing your chest and slightly accelerating his hips, swallowing your moans with pleasure.

"You're going to be an even better boy and make me cum, and I'll think about it, okay?" Sae asks, whispering it into your lips, narrowing his gaze when he looks at your lust-clouded eyes, and after your quick nod, he just kisses you gently on the cheek.

[himbosandhardwear]

It's a stupid fucking scheme, and he never would've gone along with it if he was sober, but she really didn't give him much time to contemplate it, she just shoved him into the pantry and yelled for Eddie to come into the kitchen.

Now he's got his head pressed against the slats while Rob asks Eddie if he thinks Steve is cute. Like they're in the fifth grade.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, clearly confused and put on the spot.

“C'mon,” she coaxes, “you can tell me, gay to lesbian solidarity.”

That's terrible, using that to weasel the information out of him.

“I mean…sure, I guess he's alright,” Eddie admits. “He's not really my type though.”

Oh.

Well…that's…fine.

“Seriously?” Rob asks like she doesn't believe him. “You don't think he's hot?”

“I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, but, yeah, seriously. Not my thing. He's too…I don't know, high maintenance or something. I like my guys a little more, like, dingy.”

Steve nods to himself in understanding. He should've seen that coming but he hadn't. It's sobering.

Robin isn't finished arguing her case, the beautiful idiot. “Steve's dingy!” She yells, making Eddie laugh. “He is! He's plenty dingy! And he has other fine qualities! Like, uh, loyalty! And being helpful!”

“Are you trying to set me up with your painfully straight best friend or a golden retriever?”

“Steve's not-”

“Okay!” Steve shouts, bursting out of the pantry, yes he understands the irony, with both hands waving. “This was fun but let's wrap it up.”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed, but it quickly melts into anger. “What the fuck, Buckley? What kind of weird, pointless ambush is this?”

“It wasn't pointless, you fucking troglodyte. If you were paying attention-”

“Rob.” Steve didn't mean for his voice to do that but it has the intended effect. She clamps her mouth shut and pouts. “Sorry,” he says to both of them. To Eddie, “Seriously, it was a stupid idea. We're both drunk and being stupid, just forget this happened.”

Unfortunately, it doesn't look as though Eddie is going to forget any time soon. In fact, it's more like he's studying them both for clues, the wheels turning despite the whiskey and weed gumming them up.

Steve's about to turn tail and run when the lightbulb goes off. Eddie doesn't look like he believes the conclusion he's come to but he's figured it out nonetheless. “Wait. No. Seriously? No way.”

His eyeballs are aching. He pushes against them, causing starbursts behind the eyelids. “Can we please not do this?” He begs.

Eddie sputters. “If this is me finding out you're queer, Steve Harrington, then yes, we most certainly are!” He looks at Robin but she's stonewalling him in solidarity.

The fact that neither of them has said anything to the contrary is damning enough. Steve might as well have ‘bisexual’ tattooed across his forehead.

“Holy shit.” Eddie snatches Robin by the wrist, she tries to wrestle her way out but he's jangling her about like a rag doll. “Holy shit! You were trying to set us up! Holy shit!”

“Let go, asshole! You ruined it, remember?”

He does let her go, so he can stare at Steve in horror. “No! Fuck! Steve, I was bullshitting! I was lying my ass off, I swear!” He tries to round the corner of the island but Steve moves to keep it between them, unsure of this sudden development. Eddie stops when it's clear Steve isn't reciprocating.

They stare at each other until Robin breaks the awkward silence. “Prove it.”

Eddie shakes off the cobwebs. “Huh? I mean, how? I wasn't exactly doodling Mr Edward Harrington into my journals.”

She crosses her arms. “Then I guess we're done here.”

Steve doesn't point out that she's not actually in charge of this situation because it seems to motivate Eddie into action. He gives them the ‘one moment’ finger and then dashes outside.

“You believe him?” She mumbles.

“I don't know. At this point I'd probably settle for him looking to turn me into a bedpost notch.”

“Have some self-respect.”

“Nah.”

Eddie comes back, dragging Jeff by the arm.

“Tell him!” He shouts, finger pointed at Steve.

“Tell him what?”

“The thing that shall not be spoken.”

Jeff raises one eyebrow. “How am I supposed to-”

“Oh my god, just tell him.”

“No.”

Eddie blanches. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“You made me swear.”

“So?! I'm unswearing you! This is important! I need you to unfuck this situation, pronto! You can give him all the gory details, I don't give a fuck, just tell him!”

A gleam sparkles in Jeff's eye. “Every gory detail?”

Now Eddie, correctly wary, hesitates, glancing at Steve nervously. “Well, maybe not all-”

Jeff interrupts Eddie, turning fully toward Steve with, “Eddie is bananas in love with you. Probably has been since school, but it's gotten so much worse since this spring. I'd say seventy five percent of the songs he's written are about you. He's also got a fully fleshed out fantasy life involving you, including, but not limited to, five adopted Vietnamese kids, two cats and a dog.” He turns back to Eddie. “Can I go back outside now? Those hotdogs aren't going to eat themselves.”

Eddie, eyes closed, waves him away.

Before he's fully out of the kitchen, he turns and says, “Oh, also he has a VHS copy of one of your swim meets. Bought it off of some AV kid for sixty bucks.”

Steve's stomach, already roiling with excited nerves, erupts in butterflies.

Eddie does not notice this, head buried under crossed arms on the island.

“I think we've swung too far in the other direction,” Rob points out, oblivious to Steve's excitement. When she finally does notice, it's met with rolled eyes. “Of course you're into that. Absolute freaks, the both of you. You know what? Good. Take each other off the market. My job here is done.”

She hops off the stool and leaves them alone.

Eddie cautiously pokes his head up, sees Steve smiling at him and jolts up straight like a prairie dog. “You believe me?”

He wants to toy with him for a minute, a touch of revenge for the dismissal he made earlier. “What swim meet was it?” He asks, like a test.

Without missing a beat, Eddie answers, “March of ‘85. You beat some kid from West Jefferson by four seconds.”

Steve preens. Eddie isn't bullshitting, he really did beat that kid from West Jeff. Only someone who gave a shit to pay attention would know that off hand. The whiskey makes another appearance in his bloodstream, giving him the courage to lean over the counter, into Eddie's space.

“So…you like me?”

Eddie has this incredibly endearing habit of hiding behind his hair when he’s nervous, it takes Steve out at the knees every time he sees it. “I'm gonna be really pissed off if this is some convoluted prank but…yeah, man, I fucking like you. Romantically. In case that was in question.”

“Mmm,” Steve agrees. “What are our kids' names?”

Eddie closes his eyes against Steve's smug stare. “I hate Jeff so much.”

“I don't. I'll thank him at our wedding. Maybe we name one of the kids after him.”

When Eddie peeks at him, one eyed, Steve does his best to convey his amusement and fondness both.

His body goes lax, finally, at seeing Steve take all it seriously. “Okay, so I like the idea of all of them keeping their Vietnamese names, except one who we name James.”

“After Hetfield?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.”

Some time later, after making out in the pantry for a while, Steve vetoes James, but only because he doesn't want the poor kid to grow up with a complex.

“We’ll call the dog Jimmy.”

“Cool.”

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[nikovraskol]

Crack baby is very *chief kiss*🤌

I wonder if MC knows that legally they can't live alone as a minor without the involvement of an adult? Like you can do that at 16 but for this to be legal you still need a legal guardian and to get an ok from the government by giving a good reason like your parents working out of the country and you stay for school.

If I was MC I'd not ask because Bruce will not care enough to think of a good lie to give the government (but also he can just pay the right people)

Also what would happen if MC didn't ask for money for the House? Will Bruce tell them that he decided to move their room to the family wing? What else will he want to talk about? And how will he react to MC refusing to move rooms calmly and saying that they are who moved that room that that section (it can be a lie) and that they prefer the quite.

Alfred finding that he has more work to do, and also gets worried that you saddenly don't want to be close to the family

you're very perceptive anon, i do have plans regarding mc's age and all that jazz

masterlist

but if mc weren't too ask bruce for money, let's say you convienently had enough money saved up or you had a friend to stay with, you would likely leave silently.

you pack their bags and dip, just like that. of course, alfred would be the first to notice and he would be absolutely devastated! he cares for mc like a child and you just left without a word!! but not to worry, he's sure you'll be back, evident by the way the family reacts.

just -- don't be surprised by how closely he lingers when you're back, he must make sure you don't do anything rash anymore.

slowly but surely, the manor would become strangely silence, a lack of a presence that nobody can put their finger on what's changed .. i mean, they didn't take notice of you anyway so it's not like they'd suddenly realise straight away.

it's definetly damian who notices first .. he takes a walk around your room hoping to bump into you and (see you) remind you how useless you are.. but there's a silence around your room that puts him on edge.

he's completely disgruntled when he realises you've gone! blasphemous! how could this be?

he then tells bruce, who is just as perplexed -- how did you leave? you're a child! way too young to survive gotham alone. he then recruits the others and they track you down with ease ! you're obviously upset -- who do they think they are? they suddenly want to take interest in you now? after all that's happened.

like, you'd probably be casually lounging around, doing what you do and you turn your head and there's a family gathering in your room.. except they don't look too pleased.

you can cry as much as you want, kick, scream -- they'll take you back, you felt neglected, right? that's why you left, don't worry. they'll take care of you, just don't try running away again, yeah?

as for mc refusing to move wings.. that's really interesting to me because it opens up so many possiblities.

first of all, you refusing just adds to bruce's guilt. he takes it less as you being resentful and more-so you being scared, it adds to his image of you being some helpless, naive fool.

he'll probably relent for a week, but the image of you stuck in your room, crying alone has him clutching his hair until he can't take it and he'll just move u in ur sleep.

you go to sleep peacefully in your little box room only to wake up in some fancy, way too big room that has you gaping in shock -- you're obviously pissed off, where does he get off treating you like a child!

he sighs whenever you kick and scream, gently soothing you much to your chagrin. he'll change his plan from dropping in every once in a while to every single day.

he sees you as a child, so each time you shout at him, telling him you no longer want his attention, that you're not a child -- it just adds to his helpless image of you !!

there's nothing you can do now, there's no moving out or running away, because as soon as bruce sets his eyes on you, so does everyone else.

you're stuck, poor you, but don't worry, with bruce holding your hand you don't have anything you need to wish for! isn't that great?

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, arm wrestling

Summary: Tony instigates an arm wrestling contest with Bucky, and no one can beat him until you step up to the plate. The thing is, he’s a superhuman and you’re just a regular person. Something isn’t adding up here.

Squares Filled: thor (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Tony never fails to throw a legendary party. You’ve never been invited to one until you were drafted into the team. You’re not a superhuman, you don’t have powers, and you can easily be killed in a fight. However, you do have amazing hacking skills that have been useful for the team over the past year. You can remotely get into any account, jump over any firewall, and hack into any system with your equipment from your office.

You don’t even have to leave the compound to help.

To be surrounded by such powerful people is a bit overwhelming, but you try not to show how much it’s affecting you. Alcohol always calms you down so you immediately head to the bar. Sam laughs from the right of you, and you see he’s talking to Steve and Bucky over by the pool table. Ah, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The hottest man at the party. The hottest man in any room. To look more casual, Bucky sports a backward hat and a thin t-shirt that accentuates his muscles. No one here is scared of him so he’s not shy about hiding his metal arm.

You often fantasize about what his arm could really do to someone like you.

“You should go over and talk to him.” You jump at Natasha’s voice, and you look to see her and Wanda standing next to you. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not staring at him.”

“We never said you were,” Wanda smirks.

“You definitely were, though.”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Okay, stop. I’m not crushing on Bucky.”

“It’s okay if you are. He’s hot.”

“Why don’t you talk to him if you think he’s so hot?” you grumble.

“Not my type,” Nat answers. “I’m already a deadly assassin. I don’t need another one in my life.”

“Why don’t I go over to him and tell him how much you love him?” Wanda suggests with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare, Maximoff.”

Both women laugh, and Natasha slaps a hand on your shoulder.

“Lighten up. Have another drink.” Natasha orders you another drink and you take it gratefully. “Seriously, though, you should go for it. You clearly don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. He’s whipped for you. You could ask him for anything and he’d give it to you.”

“I’m nothing compared to him. He’s a super soldier. I’m just a weak human. He’s not into me.”

Nat and Wanda look at each other, and both of them shrug. “You’ll get there eventually.”

With alcohol in your system, you’re more social with everyone but Bucky. You’d have to get seriously fucked up to talk to Bucky. He makes you so nervous and you don’t want to do anything to embarrass yourself.

By the time ten rolls around, most of the people have left the party so only the Avengers are left. This group is more chilled than the previous one because no one is trying to impress someone. Only the elite have been invited to the party, and they were starstruck in the eyes of the Avengers. Everyone here knows what everyone can do so it’s more laid back and chill.

“Be honest with me,” Tony says to Bucky. “How much can you bench with that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky chuckles. “I never tested it.”

“I bet I could take you.”

“Excuse me?”

“In an arm wrestling contest. Get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t run that way.”

Tony is drunk otherwise he wouldn’t be saying this, but Bucky finds amusement in it. Tony is persistent which is how you got here. Everyone wants a piece of Bucky’s metal arm to see if they can beat him. Knowing he can’t do it by himself, Tony grabs one of his Iron Man suit arms to give him that extra boost.

Tony fails, and Bucky doesn’t even look like he broke out in a sweat.

Rhodey tries and fails. Natasha and Clint know better than to take on a vibranium arm without powers. Bruce is scared he’ll turn into the Hulk if he strains himself too much. Wanda doesn’t compete because she’ll probably win with her magic, and she’s curious as to how this is going to end. Steve steps up to the plate and grabs Bucky’s metal hand confidently. The only person who thinks he might actually have a shot. Both men start the match, and Steve looks like he is going to win when Bucky gets a second wind and slams Steve’s hand on the desk.

The only person who can beat Bucky without any issue is Thor, but he’s on Asgard right now so he’s out of the running.

“Who’s next?” Bucky asks confidently.

“You’re so sure he’s whipped for me?” you whisper to Nat and Wanda. “There’s a way to tell if he is or not.”

“How?”

“He’ll let me win.” You step up to the table and take off your jacket. “I can do it.”

“You’re not doing it, Doll,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“What, are you chicken?” You look at everyone. “Hear that everyone? Bucky’s scared to go up against a girl.”

“Fine.” You turn to Bucky. “It’s your health. I won’t be the one who will end up with a broken arm.”

Bucky changes hands and grabs your hand with his flesh one.

“Why not your other hand?”

“I’m not using my metal arm on someone who doesn’t have any powers. It won’t be a fair fight.”

He has a point. You position yourself and look at Steve who taps the desk. You and Bucky immediately start to wrestle, and you’re using every bit of strength you have. Bucky has to admit, you’re strong for a woman of your stature but it’s not enough to beat him. However, the look of concentration and determination you have is too cute to diminish.

He pulls his strength back and lets you slam his hand to the desk.

You jump back and cheer for your victory, and he can’t help but smile. Everyone knows he let you win but you don’t care. You’re the only one who has been able to beat him whether or not it was a pity win. You join Nat and Wanda’s side with a huge smile on your face, and Steve and Sam approach Bucky with knowing looks on theirs.

“You let her win,” Steve says.

“You’re whipped, man,” Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I did, but look how happy she is.”

“You know he let you win, right?” Natasha whispers to you.

“Yeah, but that proves one thing. I have that man wrapped around my finger. He’s into me,” you beam.

“Finally, you see it,” Wanda laughs.

You look back at Bucky to see him already looking at you, and you smile right back.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bbieangel]

Sticky

Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)

mdni please

You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.

tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.

word count: 9.2k

a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.

this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3

as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻

It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.

"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.

Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.

"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.

Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.

"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."

The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.

Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.

You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.

You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.

"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.

"What do you mean?"

You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.

He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—

"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."

"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.

"What if I am?"

"What if I am too?"

The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.

"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.

"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."

And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.

"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.

He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.

"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.

"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.

He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.

"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"

He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.

Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.

But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—

"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.

"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."

And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.

You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.

"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.

You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.

Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.

"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"

The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.

With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.

"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."

I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.

"What a sight, baby. I bet.."

He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.

"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.

The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.

When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.

"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."

He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.

He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.

"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."

He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.

[wintertime-in-june]

Reverse Arranged Marriage

Colonel!König x Recruit!Reader

The Colonel.

Your Colonel.

König.

You looked at him, twisting a strand of hair around your finger, big eyes shining adorably up at him, hanging on his every word...

So you can imagine the shattering feeling you felt when he arrived back to the base after a short sabbatical back home in Austria with a woman at his side.

His fiancé.

König has no experience when it comes to women. No previous relationships, no dates, not even an attempt at obtaining one... and his parents to be quite frank were worried.

Their little boy... their not so little boy... turning 30 and not so much as an interaction with a women to their knowledge.

When he had returned to Austria for his birthday, they decided to surprise him. Waiting back home was a woman, Katharina, 'a good Austrian woman' his mother had described her as.

König, well, he didn't say anything. His parents took this as a good sign. They had everything already arranged, the two of them would stay in KorTac military housing, Katharina would work as a nurse at the local hospital and they would return to Austria for the wedding in June.

Katharina was nice enough, there was nothing explicitly wrong with her... but König felt nothing. He didn't even try to feel anything. He didn't kiss her, he didn't hug her, he didn't even speak to her.

Since their meeting they simply just walked together, around his parent's house in Austria, through the airport and now through their house on base.

It didn't take long for König to move his things over, he wasn't a very materialistic person, he helped Katharina unload her boxes from the lorry, still, wordlessly.

That's when she heard it for the first time. You.

"Colonel, do you need help with that?"

And it just progressed from there, like a high pitched drone in her ears, annoying, inescapable.

"Colonel please help me with..."

"Colonel can I show you..."

"Colonel do you want to maybe..."

"Colonel this..."

"Colonel that..."

She was sick of it, and she was sick of you.

How come he would pay attention to you? You were just some dumb little recruit, she was his fiancé and he didn't even give her a word most days.

He didn't even take that stupid mask off in front of her, but he lifted it up for you to kiss the grazes on your knees, the tiniest scratches on your arms, even a frickin' paper cut. He couldn't have his little recruit get hurt in his training sessions and not kiss it better!

They slept in their bed, on opposite sides, untouching, rigid, mask on. But if you had a nightmare, he was there in an instant, tucking you up tight in your covers only to stay and hold you when you said...

"Please, Colonel, I'm scared..."

The final straw was when you had come round to their house one evening, uninvited, to give them some Topfenstrudel you'd baked... because you just so happened you made too much... yeah right.

She didn't buy it, not for a second, you just so happened to make too much of this dessert, an Austrian dessert, an Austrian dessert that just so happened to be the Colonel's favourite.

She was seething with she had one and it was... well, delicious.

As the Colonel showered you with praises, saying what a good young lady you were, how you'd make a man very happy one day, how you know the way to people's hearts. She glared daggers into your very soul, a glare that you answered with a sweet, innocent smile.

I mean who comes round, uninvited, in their little silky pyjamas, acting all innocent and cute, she could see right through you... but the Colonel couldn't.

"It was lovely chatting with you two, see you at training tomorrow Colonel!"

And with that the door shut and you walked with a skip in your step back to the recruit's barracks.

If you hadn't been so all consumed in your own little world you just might have heard the arguing that ensured as soon as you had left...

That next morning the Colonel came in with a smile under his mask, not that you'd have known, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, looking down. After a pause, he eventually spoke.

"Katharina had to go back to Austria."

"Oh, how come?" you say feigning worry, as though your heart didn't skip a beat.

"It seems we were not a good fit for each other."

You hold back a smile, instead putting on a look of concern. "Aw that's such a shame! I hope she finds who she's looking for."

He chuckles at your sweetness, you were always thinking of other people in his eyes.

"I'm sure she will." He said with a little sigh.

"You know, I was thinking, I still have the military housing until the end of the season, how about you come over and show me how to make that Topfenstrudel, ja?"

You smile up at him, nodding profusely.

"For sure! It'll be cool me teaching you for once." You giggle.

The Colonel may not have a fiancé but he was more than fine with that...

Besides, perhaps his parents wouldn't need to cancel the wedding plans set for June...

[dystopyx-blog]

"You've been avoiding Floyd."

You had stepped away from your friends for a second, only to be face first with Jade's chest.

Its not like you were unused to being suddenly accosted by a tweel, it just usually wasn't this one.

"I haven't been avoiding him," you told him. "I just have other friends."

"You might not for much longer..." Said Jade, lifting a hand to just barely conceal that sickening pointy-toothed grin on his face. "What I mean to say is that Floyd has been a bit... testy lately. Seems without you he just doesn't know what to do with himself! I'm sure youve been seeing the increase in injury among the student body lately? If not, I suggest you start paying attention...."

The next couple days you started doing just as Jade suggested. Sure enough, there were a startling number of students with various injuries--though most commom was bruises. And some of them even seemed to glare at you--more so than usual, that is.

But surely it couldn't all have been from Floyd... right? The students here weren't known for being particularly merciful, after all. Right?...

One day, after witnessing a freshly battered boy fearfully run through the halls, you decided to investigate yourself. You followed where he had run from, and sure enough, there he was, acting like a perfect stereotypical highschool bully.

"Floyd?"

At the sight of you, Floyd drops the random student, a big grin spreading across his face.

"Shrimpy!" He exclaimed.

The poor victims immediately took the chance to flee. Floyd approached you. First he grabbed your arms, giving those a light squeeze. Seeing you didn't protest, his face lit up like a kid's on Christmas, and soon your feet were off the ground. He hugged you close to him, even swinging you a bit, though gently (or, at least, as gently as Floyd can be.)

"I missed ya, Shrimpy..." He said in a surprisingly soft voice. But he didn't say anything else, just kept hugging you. You sighed.

Just how in the heck did you become the favored squeaky toy of an overgrown eel???