#i think they’d look a little bit like me

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: UNSPOKEN

paige x azzi

word count: 10.8k

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

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

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

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

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

3rd Person POV - 2018 (DMV)

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

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

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

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

“It is if you accept it.”

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

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

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

“Best friend,” Paige corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi blinked. “This girl?”

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

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

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

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

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

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

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

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

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

Paige blinked. “What?”

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

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

“Paige, nothing,” Azzi repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It kinda is.”

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

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

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

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “No, maybe not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige pushed. “Azzi please.”

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

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

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

Paige’s brows furrowed. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Paige kissed her.

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

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

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

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

They stared at each other.

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

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

3rd Person POV - May 2020 (DMV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige sighed, rubbing her temple. “Azzi—”

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

Paige groaned. “Bro oh my God.”

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

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

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

Paige frowned. “I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure as hell act like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi stared at her. “Isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say what, Paige?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

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

“That’s not fair.”

“No? Then prove me wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sudden knock on the door cut her off.

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

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

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

Azzi sighed. “Mom, please.”

Silence. Then fading footsteps.

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

3rd Person POV - October 2020 (Connecticut)

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

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

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

But the moment she stepped inside, her stomach twisted.

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

They were close. Too close.

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

Azzi felt something burn in her chest.

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

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

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

“Azzi!”

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

“Azzi, wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi shook her head as she started walking again.

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

"Don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then stop trying,".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you agreed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige blinked, her chest tightening. “Azzi—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi kept her gaze ahead, “Paige—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige’s breath hitched. “Azzi—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige forced a small smile. “Morning.”

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Paige whispered.

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

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

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

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

3rd Person POV - August 2021 (Connecticut)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, are you single?”

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

“Yeah.”

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

Paige blinked at Azzi. “What?”

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

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

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

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

“My problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned on her heel, heading toward the door.

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

Azzi spun around so fast Paige nearly ran into her.

“Not here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi swallowed. “What?”

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

Azzi stiffened.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

“Yes. It does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi’s brow furrows. “That’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But before she can reach the door, Azzi moves.

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

Instead, she pulls Paige toward her and kisses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige freezes.

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

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

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

Then she kisses her again.

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

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

And Paige?

She lets her.

She lets herself fall.

She always has.

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

“P, I’ve never—”

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

“We can stop,” Paige murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3rd Person POV - 2021 (Connecticut)

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

But now? Now everything was upside down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The worst part? It hurt like hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Didn’t take you long to move on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azzi exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.

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

Azzi flinched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Paige, wait. I’m sorry."

Paige whipped around, yanking her arm free. "For what, Azzi? What the hell do you want from me?"

Azzi stood there, breathing hard, her eyes wild under the streetlights. "I’m so sorry, I—just—can we talk?"

"Talk? Now you wanna talk? After you stood in there and called what we had a fucking mistake?"

Azzi flinched. "I didn’t mean that."

"But you said it…And you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was a mistake. Not because of what we did, but because I was stupid enough to think you actually wanted this. Wanted me."

Azzi ran a hand down her face, frustration rolling off her in waves as tears pooled in her eyes. "God, Paige, you act like this is so easy for me."

Paige’s nostrils flared. "It is! It’s the easiest thing in the fucking world! I love you, Azzi! And I don’t understand why that’s so damn hard for you to accept, to believe me. But you don’t give a fuck so it really doesn’t matter.”

Azzi’s face twisted with something Paige couldn’t figure out—guilt, fear, longing. Maybe all of it.

"I never said I didn’t care."

Paige let out a sharp breath. "You didn’t have to. You shut down. You ran. You left me with nothing, Azzi. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to give you space, hoping you’d come to me when you were ready. But all I got was silence."

Azzi shook her head, stepping closer. "I didn’t know what to do."

"You didn’t know what to do?!" Paige’s voice cracked, her hands trembling. "How about telling me the fucking truth? How about choosing me?"

Azzi exhaled heavily "I was fucking terrified, okay?"

"Of what?" Paige threw her arms out. "Loving me? Because, newsflash, Azzi, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have pushed me away the second things got real."

Azzi’s eyes flashed with something desperate and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her mouth.

"I do love you Paige."

It came out like a confession, like a plea. Like something she had been trying so damn hard to bury but couldn’t hold back any longer.

Paige stilled. Her breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, shaking her head. "No, you don’t."

Azzi stepped forward, looking at her like she was everything, like she was terrified to lose her. "Paige—"

Paige turned on her heel, ready to leave, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Azzi before she shattered completely. But Azzi wasn’t letting her go this time.

She grabbed Paige’s wrist again, but this time, she didn’t just hold her back—she pulled her in. Pulled her close, so close that Paige could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sheer panic radiating off her.

"Paige, please." Azzi’s voice cracked, and something about it—about the way she said her name like it was her last lifeline—made Paige freeze.

Azzi’s hands were trembling as she clutched at Paige’s arms. She wasn’t running now. She wasn’t shutting down. She was unraveling.

"I don’t know how to do this," Azzi admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to love you without losing myself."

Paige swallowed hard, her anger slowly being replaced with concern. "Azzi—"

"No, let me say this." Azzi took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, a few tears rolling down her cheek. "I’m always so calculated. So in control. And then you come along, and suddenly I can’t even think straight half the time. You—" she exhaled shakily "—you scare the shit out of me, P."

Paige’s brows pulled together, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice. "Azzi, I would never hurt you."

Azzi let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head. "That’s the problem. You could. You did for a little bit. When I was completely in love with you and I had to be your best friend and listen to you telling me about how you slept with someone else for the first time. That’s when I realized you could break me, Paige. How you could ruin my entire world and that terrifies me more than anything."

Paige’s breath caught.

"I didn’t pull away because I don’t love you," Azzi admitted, her voice trembling. "I pulled away because I love you too much. Because the moment I let myself have you, I knew I’d never want to let you go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without you and I didn’t know what to do with that."

Paige felt the last of her anger drain away, leaving only understanding in its place because she had gone through that exact same thing.

Azzi wasn’t scared because she didn’t love her. She was scared because she did.

Deeply. Completely.

Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don’t have to know what to do. You just gotta trust me Az. Trust that maybe we can figure it out together."

Azzi’s lips parted, her breath shaky, and then she kissed her.

Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. Paige hesitated at first, a split second of uncertainty passing through her, but then she melted into it, her hands sliding around Azzi, squeezing her like she’d never let go. Her entire body was trembling, but not from the usual anger or frustration. This was something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about passion alone. It was about everything—everything they had been through, everything they wanted to be together. It was everything they’d both been afraid to admit.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I love you." Azzi whispered it so softly, as if the words had been buried for years, locked away in a place she’d never dared to go. "I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since I was 15. I just didn’t know how to say it."

Paige’s breath hitched. She felt a lump in her throat, a quiet sob wanting to escape, but she swallowed it down. She leaned into Azzi, her forehead still against hers, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky exhale. "Then please don’t run this time. Just let me love you, Azzi—because I—I love you so much baby. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize as fast as you did. That I—"

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Paige’s she shook her head no slowly, her hands tightening around Paige’s waist. "It doesn’t matter. I promise I’m not going anywhere anymore."

…

It wasn’t the quiet moments that made them realize they were in love.

Not the nights tangled together in bed, whispering into the darkness, even when they weren’t officially anything.

Not the stolen glances or the lingering touches, the warmth of Azzi’s childhood bedroom where they figured themselves out.

Not the laughter, the tenderness, or the countless times they looked at each other like they held the entire world in their hands. When Paige dropped everything to be at Azzi’s side. When they’d wake up early and just smile at one another.

No—those were the moments they fell.

But this—this was when they knew.

It was in the arguments, in the breaking points. In the way their love made them reckless, made them desperate, made them vulnerable in ways they had never been before. It was in the fear, in the unbearable weight of knowing that the other had the power to destroy them completely.

Loving each other was never the risk. Letting themselves be loved back—that was.

But in the end, it was these moments—the raw, painful, necessary ones—that led them home to each other. That made it possible for them to be steady and completely content in one another when the attention started flying their way as they grew up.

[crushpunky]

college!reader and joe visit joe’s parents

masterlist

based on this ask. college!reader is a bit of a STEM/math girlie for sake of conversation lmao warning: mention of sex/a sex joke

Y/n was pretty sure she was going to have a heart attack the entire drive from the airport to Joe’s childhood home. She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to fly home with Joe for a long weekend, but still the churning in her stomach continued.

“You a’ight?” Joe asked, quirking his brow as he turned to her from the driver’s seat of the car he’d rented for the weekend. She fiddled with her pants, the fabric rubbing back and forth between her fingers as she nodded quickly. It felt like her mind was racing at a million miles a minute, each mile they drove closer to his house causing her worries to multiply. What if they hated her? What if they didn’t think she was good enough for their son? What if she said something wrong and they thought she was stuck up? What if they just—

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, ok?” Joe said lowly, taking one of his hands off the wheel to stop her anxious fiddling, taking her hand in his own. “They’re gonna love you. I promise.”

Y/n sighed, taking her eyes off the trees and fields rushing by to look over at Joe. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, raising her hand to his lips to press a chaste kiss to it before the car began to slow. Y/n took in a deep breath as Joe pulled into the gravel driveway of his home. It was a quaint little home with white siding and brick accents, the picture perfect childhood home… so perfectly Joe.

As the car rolled to a stop, Joe popped his seatbelt before climbing out of the car. Y/n followed, slinging her backpack over her shoulders as she rounded to the back of the car, but Joe had beaten her to it. He lifted their duffels from the trunk, holding both of them over one shoulder with ease.

“You ready?” Joe said, grinning down at her as she followed him towards the front door. He raised his fist, rapping his knuckles against the door before resting his hand along the small of y/n’s back. Behind the door, she could hear excited bustling about before the door finally flew open. The two of them were greeted with the wide smiles and excited squeals of Joe’s parents.

“There you are!” Joe’s mother said, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, my baby, Joey.”

Joe chuckled lightly, an embarrassed red rising in his cheeks at the nickname before his mom finally pulled away from him.

“How are you, son?” Joe’s dad said, pulling him into a hug, reaching up to ruffle Joe’s hair. Y/n smiled, watching the way Joe’s parents so clearly loved and admired their son.

“I’m good,” Joe said with a sigh before turning away from his parents, his hand finding its spot on the small of y/n’s back once more. “Uh, Mom, Dad, this is y/n.”

A nervous smile spread across y/n’s cheeks as Joe’s parents turned to her, looking her up and down with the same grins they’d greeted their son with.

“Y/n, sweetheart, it’s so good to finally meet you.” Joe’s mother said, pulling y/n into a hug. Y/n’s eyes widened, her arms tensing before moving to hug Joe’s mother back. Once she pulled away, Joe’s father pulled y/n into a hug.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Joe’s father chuckled. “So, so much. Joe loves talking about you.”

“Dad,” Joe groaned, running a hand along his jaw once his dad released y/n from a hug.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, too.” Y/n giggled. “I’ve heard so much about you… especially about your cooking, Mrs. Burrow.”

“Oh, Joe loves to play my cooking abilities up,” Joe’s mother chuckled with a shake of her head. “And please just call me Robin, sweetheart.”

Y/n nodded, Joe looking over at her with a grin.

“Well come on in, we don’t want dinner to get cold.” Joe’s dad said, ushering the two of them inside. Y/n stepped into the foyer, looking around at the family pictures, trophies, and keepsakes that littered the entryway. Joe started up the stairs, looking back at y/n as she was lost in the memories adorning the walls.

“I’ve got plenty more photos we can look at after dinner,” Robin whispered to y/n, quirking her brows as she walked past her into the kitchen. Y/n laughed before turning to follow Joe up the stairs.

“Already plotting with my mom, hmm?” Joe teased, elbowing her lightly before opening the door to his childhood bedroom. However, he froze halfway before quickly closing the door again, turning on his heels to face y/n.

“Um, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” Joe muttered, avoiding y/n’s eyes as he stood firmly between her and his bedroom. 

“What? Is there something wrong?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brow as she looked Joe up and down.

“No, it’s just…” Joe sighed. “My bedroom hasn’t changed since I was, like, 12. I mean I got a bigger bed, but the decorations and… stuff are still the same.”

Y/n tried her best to stifle a laugh, Joe groaning as he leaned his head back against the door with a thud.

“It can’t possibly be that bad.” Y/n grinned. Joe sighed before turning back to the door. He opened the door slowly, revealing the contents of his room. Inside, y/n was quite shocked to see his entirely Star Wars themed bedroom, complete with a themed comforter, posters, and multiple lightsabers adorning the walls. Her jaw dropped as she stepped inside, looking at the action figures and Lego sets that filled the shelves.

“Ok. Uh, wow.” Y/n said with a giggle. Joe groaned once more, setting their bags down on the floor before flopping onto his bed. He writhed around with an exaggerated moan, which only caused y/n’s giggles to worsen at Joe’s dramatics.

“I was just a little shocked, ok?” Y/n said, sitting next to Joe on his bed. “I actually think it’s kinda cute.”

“Really?” Joe smirked, biting his lip as he looked up at y/n flirtily. He reached out, running a finger along the soft skin of her forearm.

“Cute, not sexy, Burrow.” Y/n scoffed, shaking her head at him.

“What? You don’t wanna have sex on my Star Wars bed sheets?” Joe teased, a cheeky grin on his face. Y/n laughed, smushing her hand into his face playfully.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Y/n and Joe’s heads quickly jerked their heads to the side to find Joe’s dad standing in the open doorway to Joe’s bedroom. Y/n quickly scrambled to her feet, taking a measured step away from the bed as Joe sat up with a groan.

“Dinner is ready.” Joe’s dad, Jim, said, nodding to the two of them before heading back down the hallway. The second he was out of earshot, y/n let out a groan as she ran a hand down her face.

“Hey, it’s fine. You’re fine.” Joe said, getting up from the bed. He stood in front of her, crouching his head down as he ran his hands along her arms. Y/n met his eyes, a slight pout on her lips. Sure, their initial welcomes into their house had been nothing but kind and warm, but dinner was the main event. The time for her to prove (or fail to prove) that she was the right girl for their son.

“Joe, I’m scared I’m gonna fuck this up.” Y/n sighed. “I’m scared I’m gonna ruin this and then they’re gonna hate me and—”

Joe cut her off, moving his hands up to cup her cheeks before pressing a kiss to her lips. He pulled away slowly, rubbing his thumbs gently against her cheeks as he looked back at her.

“Look, I love you, y/n, and I promise you— promise you— that they will too.” Joe whispered, smiling down at y/n. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Joe cocked his head towards the door, guiding y/n down the hall as he rubbed his hand down her back smoothly. The two of them descended the stairs quietly before entering into the kitchen. The table was set, pans and dishes of food filling the air with their heavenly aroma. The food at LSU wasn’t particularly bad, but it for sure wasn’t a home cooked meal.

“Oh my god,” Joe groaned as he quickly rounded the table, eyeing the delicious looking food. “Y/n, baby, you’ve got to try my mom’s chicken casserole—”

“Jeez, Joseph,” Robin laughed as she pulled her apron over her head, taking her seat at the table. “Let the girl sit down first.”

Joe shook his head, laughing a bit to himself before pulling out a chair for y/n next to him. She took it graciously, scooting underneath the table as the Burrows began to dig into their feast. Y/n watched for a moment, unsure of what to do and not wanting to impose upon their family traditions.

“So, y/n, how are you enjoying LSU?” Jim asked, taking a bite of chicken as Joe simultaneously handed y/n a bowl of rolls.

“I like it a lot,” Y/n nodded, taking a roll from the dish and setting it down onto her plate. “I love the city and the professors are pretty great. And the people, too.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” Robin smiled. “Your classes are good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” y/n said. “I’m actually taking a really interesting math class.”

“What’s it about?” Jim quirked his brow, turning his attention fully to y/n.

Y/n launched into a passionate conversation about her math class, which naturally progressed to Robin and Jim asking questions about her other interests, childhood, likes and dislikes. Joe nudged y/n lightly, a smear of jam on his lips as he grinned at her before pressing a jelly covered kiss to her cheek.

The dinner went smoothly, y/n finding herself getting more and more comfortable with Joe’s parents as the meal continued. As they finished up their meal, y/n helped Robin clear off the table while Joe went out back to help Jim carry some firewood out to their shed. Robin put on a CD, the classic rock song playing gently throughout the kitchen as they washed and dried dishes.

“I know I probably shouldn’t say this,” Robin sighed, passing y/n the last dish that needed dried, “but I can’t remember the last time I saw Joe this happy.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, looking up from the plate she was drying to meet Robin’s eye. She could feel her heart skip a beat, her cheeks warming as Robin smiled at her.

“You’re a good girl, y/n.” Robin said, leaning against the counter opposite y/n. “Joe’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him.” Y/n grinned. Robin winked, pushing off the counter before grabbing the now dry plate from y/n and putting it into the cabinet.

“Well, now that the boys are out… I wasn’t joking about showing you the baby photos.” Robin grinned, gesturing for y/n to follow her as she went into the living room. Y/n sat on the couch as Robin crossed the room to rummage through a wooden chest. After a moment, she held up a thick photobook with the name “Joseph” written in a swirling script. She joined y/n on the couch, sitting next to her before cracking open the book.

Immediately, the pages fell open to a picture of Joe dressed in a bright orange wind suit, his hands on his hips as he posed in front of the fireplace. He had the same fiery look in his eye and smirk on his lips, even as a child. Y/n and Robin continued flipping through, laughing and aww-ing as they looked at photos of Joe on Halloween, at his first football game, showing off his toys on Christmas.

“What’s going on in here?” Jim asked as he came back in the house, Joe behind him, running a hand through his hair.

“I was just showing y/n some baby photos,” Robin grinned, causing Jim to chuckle and Joe to groan. “But, I think we’re done for tonight. I’m gonna go up to bed.”

“Same,” Jim yawned, stretching his arms. The two of them said their goodnights before leaving Joe and y/n alone in the living room. Joe crossed the room before sitting down on the couch next to y/n, tossing his arm over her shoulders. Y/n relaxed into his touch, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You were quite the cute baby, Joseph.” Y/n teased.

“Oh, jeez,” Joe shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I think they might like you more than me.”

“Oh don’t.” Y/n laughed, elbowing Joe’s ribs lightly.

“Seriously.” Joe said, looking down at y/n. “I told you they’d love you.”

Y/n smiled, pressing a kiss to Joe’s jaw before relaxing back into his chest. The two of them sat in silence, feeling the comfortable nostalgia of Joe’s childhood home. A house that had quickly become a sort of home to y/n, too.

[airborneice]

soo throwing out my pmd au designs for the trio, and also their levels and movesets bc I put way too much thought into this already and I’m gonna yap about all of it under the cut :>

so for why I chose the pokemon I did…David and Hilda’s pokemon were really quick to figure out for me - teddiursa is already orange and literally the son boy pokemon so it was a perfect match imo, and shinx picks up 3/4 of Hilda’s colour palette without even trying. plus the electric type has a reputation for being a bit feisty and impulsive so that fits Hilda p well I think

Frida gave me way more trouble finding a suitable match but I think I’m finally happy w making her an espeon. I think her being a psychic type is a good analogue for magic so it ticks that box, and espeon picks up the purple in frida’s s3 design (her white patches are also meant to relate to her s3 look :> ). alsoo it’s not super obvious here but her inner ears and gem are blue so she can still match both hilda and david’s colour palettes like god intended 😌 OH and also a bit of Frida’s clothing/decor in the show is cat-themed, so I figured if she likes cats so much she can be one. as a treat 😌

so in this AU Hilda takes the place of the player character, so she’s the one randomly waking up in the pokemon world with amnesia and the vague recollection of being human before whereas David and Frida are just regular pokemon (something something parallel to Hilda moving to the city and having no idea how anything works vs David and Frida already having it figured out etc)

at the start, Frida is already evolved and a bit higher level than the others. I was thinking of that drive to overachieve & live up to expectations that she has at the start of the show, and how in a pokemon au evolving a little early would probably be a point of pride for her (and her parents). david and hilda on the other hand don’t have much expertise battling yet (Hilda is literally fresh into being a pokemon so doesn’t have battles figured out and David is actively scared of them) so they’re low-level and their movesets are basic, though I tried to tailor them to their personalities a little bit. I wanted to make Frida’s moveset more tactical and thought-out since she’s the one planning and strategising to keep the team on track. (a moment of silence for her hanging on to Baton Pass when she’s in a team with two pokemon who are too scared/inexperienced in battle to be any help at all…) plus she has the odd TM bc I figure if her parents had such high hopes for her, they’d try to make sure she had a good start and got the best moves money could buy. at the point where Hilda comes in, Frida and David both want to become explorers but for their own reasons can’t quite work up the nerve to make it happen yet..we’ll get to that in the next post :>

[shanklin]

"What if Stan gives Shanklin a Mini Mr. Mystery outfit? The two be twinning!"

Dear 500-word-ask!anon from my inbox. Have my answer for the first 14 words.

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Shanklin found him. Somehow, hundreds of miles away from home, Shanklin found him.

Soos almost ran him over on accident but Stan took the steering wheel at the very last second and turned it around.

The sudden drift and following emergency brake had them almost break right through the windshield, but Stan didn’t care about his bruised shoulder and bleeding head. He recognized that screeching grin anywhere.

He threw himself out of the car and stumbled onto the street, frantically looking around for his friend.

“Shanklin! SHANKLIN!”

It wasn’t just his imagination, right? Stan was certain he saw his little possum. Stan turned around and ran back to the car. Did they hit him? Did he kill another member of his family? 

Stan sank to the ground. Please please don’t let it be true. Not Shanklin. Stan closed his eyes tightly and tried to block out the world around him until he felt little pricks on his thigh, little claws scratching his pants and the skin underneath.

A tiny furry body squeezed itselfs into a gap in between his curled up body and nestled comfortably on his lap.

Stan cradled the possum into his arms, hid his face in the scruffy fur and wept silently. Shanklin came back to him. For him. 

Soos suggested Shanklin might be magical, some sort of animal wizard or something, and Stan couldn’t help but agree.

“You really are magic, aren’t you? The smartest, most mysterious possum the world has ever seen!”

In response, the banana piece Shanklin was messily chewing on fell out of his mouth and he bit on the fabric in Stan's hands instead.

“Hey, that’s for the show, stop that! HEY!”

It took much more effort than expected to get Shanklin into the Mini Mr. Mystery outfit. For a super smart magical wizard pet he sure acted like a wild animal sometimes.No matter, Stan had succeeded and Shankling looked, quite honestly, really damn cute. Stan had been hoping for a more cool aesthetic, but the little hat, tie and suit combo was just adorable and matched his own perfectly.

Stan tried not to think about how much Grauntie Mabel would love it. How proud she would be, if things were different. She had taught him all about making comfortable clothes for animals, when Ford had kicked him out of their shared room in the attic that one time.

He, Fidds and Grunkle Dipper needed more space for an all night DD&mD extravaganza, so Stan had to go.

Back then Stan had tried to ask if he could join but chickened out at the last minute. 

“Stan, don't touch that. Those are some highly advanced calculations for later game play. I don’t want them all messed up. You wouldn’t understand”

Stan took a look at the sheets and it was true. Nothing on them made a lick of sense, but he had hoped they could just do the math for him and he could still be there for the fun bits.

The fun bits being the times when Stan heard them laughing and screaming in delight. The ones that became inside jokes that no one explained to Stan. And if he would asked them to, they’d just laugh harder.

But they were right, Stan wouldn’t understand. He’d just mess everything up.  

So he went downstairs, where Grauntie Mabel made him a warm chocolatey Mabel Juice variant and taught him all about how to sew in an emergency, in case you see a cute animal that would be even cuter in a little blazer. 

Sewing and creating miniature outfits was surprisingly fun and when he heard laughter from above and Grauntie Mabel put her arms around him in sympathy, he felt not as alone as usual.

“I know it’s hard,” she told him looking pained, “but we need to let those nerds do their own thing. If we go and force them to do stuff they don’t want to, it will just end badly for all of us. I’ve been through it before and trust me. This is for the best.”

Stan leaned into her and let himself be comforted by her warmth.

Stan did not tell her that he just wanted to play with them and not force them to do something else.

And he did not ask her why she constantly agreed with Dipper's plans then, even though she clearly didn’t want to. 

“Okay, I trust you.” he said instead and got rewarded with a kiss on his head and a cuddle. 

Mini Mr. Mystery was a blazing success! 

Everyone loved Shanklin, even if he almost ate his hat halfway through the show. 

If his luck streak continued, Stan would soon make enough money to pay Soos back for all that he had wasted on him.

Stan took a bow and held Shanklin out to the crowd who squeaked in protest.

The “awws” in response were justified. His Shanklin was adorable!

“Look at you and your twin!”

Shanklin started to squirm. Stan held him tighter and forced a grin.

“Almost identical. You can barely tell them apart.” 

oh don’t be silly. it’s easy. the freak with the glasses is the smart one and the one who looks like he can’t count to three is the spare

The crowd laughed.

mocking laughter, red cheeks, six fingered hands hiding away

“So if you’re the creative one then that must make this little guy the smart one right?”

don’t you ever call him that again

Stan's grip loosened and Shanklin attacked, jumping right onto the worst offender, scratching and biting. 

or i’ll make sure you won’t live long enough to regret it

The crowd jumped and screamed as the possum ran through, attacking everyone that looked like a threat. In midst the panic a path formed and Stan ran until his legs gave out.

Shanklin was still by his side when he finally collapsed and cuddled up next to him. Stan pet his head, now free of the fez.

Maybe Stan just wasn’t cut out for this twinning thing.

Later Soos would find them both fast asleep under a park tree. He swore up and down that Shanklin showed him the way and Stan swore that he never left his side.

[rafesapple]

something stupid

art donaldson x 365 party girl reader

warnings

smoking,cursing,c0ke mention,light smut(reader getting off), bitchy reader?

You’d met art originally after winning the junior when you were eighteen(going onto nineteen that same year) though only briefly. By that time Tashi and him were already engaged, in their early twenties. You were young, getting ready to go into college..of course, you thought he was a bit attractive but he was too old for you and engaged. September 12, 2010 During the afterparty for your win, you smile while taking a picture with your trophy for the press, and you notice art and Tashi together. You were surprised they stayed, well..thinking he had to practice or they had to prepare for their wedding or something.

You come over to greet them, after all, Tashi was a promising young player..before her accident. Art was a well-known player now and won his junior open around this age. Of course, you wanted… communication..with them. ���hi…Art donaldson..and Tashi Duncan correct?” you asked coming closer to them. They both replied at the same time with a yes, then Tashi spoke up first after “Congratulations on your win for the junior open.” you smiled “Oh thank you, um congratulations on your engagement?” you laughed nervously, they both laughed for a moment then he spoke up “so you know of us well I take?” “well you won so many tournaments..and Tashi by your side..but also back then amazing on her own.” He looked at you while tilting his head “So you must do your research for tennis?” you laugh “Well yes. I like to know of others' strategies..also if I’m playing against someone I watch theirs also.” Your coach calls you before you can speak to them “Oh I should..” they both tell you, you should go and that was the last time you’d talk to them, rarely ever see them in person.

You lay in the hotel bedroom late at night(thankfully your parents had a separate room) you log onto your computer going onto the web browser. You bite your lip, deciding to search for his name. It wasn’t..wrong was it? He was attractive… you go through a couple of his plays quietly watching. You were getting wet. Your fingers end up in your lace panties gently running over your clit as you watch him play, you’d slow down every time it went to his opponent and sped up once he came on screen. You’d whine and moan quietly as you’d get that fuzzy feeling every few moments. After he’d won they’d set up an interview “f-fuck!” you’d whine out going faster as he spoke, your breaths became heavier and it was so wet now, your finger even slipping every few moments.

2019

Before you walk into a sports store you take a quick moment to smoke, then stepping on it after throwing it on the ground. You stepped in needing a new racket, you’d been using the same one for the past year and needed a new one for the season. As you shove the cigarette pack in your back pocket you walk over to the aisle filled with tennis rackets. After a moment you look over seeing a young girl looking up at the rackets, she looked familiar but whatever… “you into tennis?” you asked her raspily, you were still a little tired

“yea! my dad plays!” “Mmm so you wanna play..?” she nodded her head, you had a slight soft spot for kids. You look around for a guardian or parent before she asks if you played “Yeah…I don’t care for it much but I’m still playing..” “Oh.. my dad won a bunchh of tournaments!” you hum trying to think of someone who her dad could’ve been, and there you see him.

Art Donaldson, the one you’d been a little obsessed with almost 10 years ago. “Lily- you can’t run off like that.” he spoke gently to her, grabbing her hand “Yeah but I wanted the racket now!” she argued back, and he looked back up at you, he likely wouldn’t recognize you, your body and face matured. Probably wouldn’t help with the eye bags underneath your eyes “Oh uh sorry, I hope she didn’t bother you too much.” you clear your throat “It’s fine..she was just telling me about you.” “oh-was she?” An awkward silence falls, “you uh- look familiar.” you scoffed out a laugh “You sure do..art Donaldson, correct?” He lets go of Lily’s hand letting her look back at the tennis rackets, though you speak up before he can “I won the female 2011 junior open..you might not remember.”

“oh..oh! Yes…I remember vaguely..” he smiled so prettily like he wasn’t going through a fucking divorce. “How is Tashi?” you asked while looking at the tennis rackets “Oh..we’re not going to be together soon..” he spoke quietly “Oh,” you spoke dryly, you felt a bit bad but why should you care? You grab the racket you’d already picked out beforehand “i’ll see you around.” You felt a little bad being a bit..mean but you had things to get done..meaning practice then go drink likely.

a week later You’d been warming up after you’d stepped onto the court, being a bit lazily with it for this tournament. It wasn’t like this was a well known player whatever… you look up in the seeing fucking art Donaldson. What.the.hell. You were playing this tournament mainly for the money, after this you started seriously stretching and warming up. The announcer calls out for you to serve.

For the first time in a while, you played..seriously. It was only because Art Donaldson was watching. That’s why..whatever…You hold the medal up as they take the picture, then going off to pack your bags up. You jump hearing his voice behind you. “Jesus fucking chr…art.” you spoke turning around to see him “You did good out there.” he congratulated you “Oh um..thanks.” you spoke choked up

“Can I ask why your here..?” he paused for a moment “I wanted..well to see you play.” “why.” you speak blatantly while staring at him with dead eyes.“I’m bored.” he mutters for only you to hear. “I mean… I just think you're a good player.. 'm..obviously retired so..” Art felt like his teenage self again, just like with Tashi…what? He thought to himself. You cleared your throat speaking up again “So has Lily started playing?” you asked “Yeah.. I’ve been teaching her..but I don’t wanna do it for long if I have to..not all the time at least.” he spoke looking over your shoulder.

After a few more weeks, you swore that man came for every game, unfortunately after this game, you’d lost you of course went to go..well. You sit outside the locker room pulling out the baggie about to sniff on it, but you scream hearing Art call your name “shit.. I didn’t mean to scare y..” he spoke softly then seeing the baggie “fucking christ art! you scared me!” “Oh. Oh..” he realized but then he just continued,like he didn’t see it.

“Do you wanna uh..get dinner..together,” he asked while messing with his fingernails. you put the baggie in your purse “What..?” you choke out, thank god you weren’t high. “do you want to get dinner with me.” “oh..uh..you paying?” he laughed “Yeah. yeah I’ll pay.” he smiled while staring at you for a moment. “I’ll go change right quick,” you speak dryly once more. “alright.” Art hated feeling like this, that hormonal teenager who jerked off with Patrick or got so hard when he saw Tashi. He waited so nervously picking at his nails and skin, a bad habit.

After about an hour you sit in a fast food restaurant eating a burger and fries with slightly damp hair “What?” you ask as Art stares at you sipping on his drink “Are you embarrassed that you're what like..thirty something eating at a fast food restaurant with a twenty eight year old?” “Your twenty eight?” he asked “I'm twenty seven turning twenty eight soon,so practically twenty eight.” “so.. twenty seven?” he teased “Shut up! Go get me a refill,” you spoke handing him your empty plastic cup. As he comes back he hands you the cup back, seeing the tattoo on your wrist “You have a tattoo?” he asks continuing to eat “Oh.yeah… I have a couple..” he nods “Did it hurt?” you swallow your food clearing your throat “not really, it was one of my first ones.” then you continue sipping on your drink, you watch him take his phone out, holding it out with a blank contact on the screen. “what?” you asked while staring and sipping “can I have your number.” he’d asked while looking at your wrist to avoid eye contact.

You grab it typing your contact in and name in. You go to his camera taking a picture, and then setting it as the contact photo. He stared once more in a daze while you did this. “-did you hear me? Here.” you spoke while getting up and snapping him out of it. “oh uh-than-“ you cut him off grabbing your purse “Later.” you said as you walked off Thankfully your lift got here as you stepped out of the restaurant, you got in messing with your nails at first. You look down at your phone, you just gave him your phone number and you already wanted his text. Never mind that you should focus on something else “I wanna go clubbing..” you mutter to yourself.

The next weekend you had gotten off, deciding to go clubbing with a couple of friends..though they had all either left or went off with some dude or girl. You sit at the bus stop drunk while you smoke a cigarette. “oh.” you realized buses don’t run this late, you didn’t wanna call a lift, and you hated getting into a stranger's car late..you don’t know who to call. You lay your head on the bus wall but your body falls onto the bench. You pull out your phone lazily, you don’t even focus on the contact.

Art’s voice comes through groggily “Hello?” he groaned out before recognizing your name and clearing his throat. You whine loudly “Come pick me up..” you rasped out still not recognizing his voice “I..is everything alright?” he’d asked while spoke a bit worried as you heard him shuffling out of bed. “oh..it’s art..” you spoke holding your head as you sat up “art-! come pick me up..” you whined out drunkly. After 20 minutes you're laying back on the bench once more as Art pulls to the side of the road. “hey..” he rushed over watching you start to fall over, he holds you in his arms “shit..why’d you get so drunk..” he murmured to himself as he pushed your hair out your face. “take me home..” you whined in his ear…Art got..just a bit hard, he just wanted to put it in your sopping wet, tight cun-

“art!!” “alright…I’m getting you home..” he muttered trying to pick you up, though you started to gag he quickly led you away, letting you throw up. After you finished he settled you into the passenger seat then got into the driver's side. He looked at you for a moment making sure you were okay..though you’d taken his water bottle and started drinking it. He wondered why the hell you got yourself so drunk.

Fuck. He didn’t know where you lived…

“Art..art! Art..” you repeat over and over, he looks over at you you grab his thigh tightly while looking at him drunkenly. He muttered a “fuck.” while keeping eye contact with you “We..should get you home..can you give me your-“ he quiets down watching how close you get to him, leaning in to kiss him.

He turns to face the front of the car clearing his throat, he removed your hand “Let’s..um get you home.” he rejected you. he took away the moment. He..he embarrassed you. You furrow your eyebrows, looking out the other window, holding back your tears. Stupid bastard, you thought while holding it in. As he drives into your neighborhood, he pulls on the side of the road in front of your house “Hey..get some re-“ You cut off Art, slamming his car door roughly as you walk up to the front door. He licks his lips while holding his jaw as he watches you slam your front door. He fucked up.

[siiinfully]

He was killing her. Softly. Sweetly. Slowly.

How could anyone go back to work after receiving the best fuck of their life? Cassie knew that she wouldn’t, but she had to. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to prolong her return to her desk, where thick stacks of ancient tomes waited for her to translate them. It would be a big thing for the company if their teams found something valuable, but right now, profits and ancient discoveries were the furthest from her mind. She was moaning into her boyfriend’s shoulder, her eyes shut as she let wave after wave of euphoria cover her until she felt like she was floating.  

Like he had given her a full body massage and was now setting her down on sheets made of Egyptian cotton, a 1000 thread count pressing against every inch of her tired body, while his warmth and weight kept her grounded to the present. When Cassie opened her eyes again, she smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek, her legs slowly loosening from around his waist until her feet fell onto the couch. “If I didn’t know any better, sir, I’d think you were trying to get me pregnant,” she teased. Something that she further taunted him for by lifting her ass up a little once he’d gotten off of her, to keep most of his cum brimming around her entrance. Keeping that warm gloop trapped in her pussy for as long as possible until she, too, sat up.

As if by instinct, she reached over to give his cock a few more pumps, smirking when she felt warmth spurt onto her palm and she licked it off. “Time to get back to work, huh?” she murmured, kissing him softly on the lips. Her clothes were scattered all over his office – hell, it looked like her bra was strewn over his desk like some trophy – and she took her sweet time getting everything before she changed, hopping a little to slip her feet back into her boots. “I think I can get the first translations later. Assuming someone doesn’t distract me before then,” she told him, sliding her arms around his neck for one last, languid kiss.

Yes, she really could get used to this, mainly for personal reasons than professional, and after a few stolen pecks that she initiated, she grabbed her clipboard and held it close to her chest. She could still feel him on her, in her, and she could have sworn that she was blushing even after everything they’d just done together. Cassie swallowed the lump in her throat and bit back a smile. “So. I should…probably get going,” she said, biting her lower lip. Before she said anything else, she quickly stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before hurrying out, unaware that his dad was on his way to his office and ended up seeing her hasty retreat.

somehow, knowing that she was his girlfriend has taken the incredible feeling of their already great sex to another level. prior to this, noah has had no issues with admitting that she was the best fuck that he’s ever had in his entire life. and now, it was even better than he thought. when he feels her pushing back down to meet him, he knows that she’s close again, knows that cassie is about to cum. they’ve fucked enough in this very room for him to recognize all of the tells. the flushed skin, the eager moaning getting louder, the way she slammed hips down to meet his own, trying to lodge every inch of his cock up inside of her. and noah was more than eager to give her exactly what she wanted and more. especially, because it feels absolutely incredible.

thank god for soundproofing, because it is the most useful thing when the two of them are alone in his office. if it didn’t exist, he’s certain that he would have had to fire her or move her to a different department by now. because someone would have discovered them fucking like rabbits simply from the sound. it isn’t like the two of them are trying to be quiet or demure. in fact, the contrary. he’s moaning in delight and making sure that cassie knows exactly how good she feels. “ fuck yes. you want me to cum. you want me to pump you full of my cum and fill you up, ” he all but purrs as he continues to throw his hips up to meet hers, trying to make sure both of them could reach that peak at the exact same time.

and when the wave of pleasure became undeniable, hands on her ass pull her all the way down, wanting to bury his cock inside of her. claiming her with his cum pumping as deep inside of her as possible feels absolutely incredible. “ that’s it. fuck yes. that’s my girl. take all that cum, ” he moans as his cock throbs deep inside of her. unable to hold out any longer, this time, he holds her close to make sure that every drop of his seed was shot up inside of her, his thick cock stretching her to the max as he reached his peak. this was their first time fucking officially as a couple and he wanted it to be extremely memorable.

[not-that-taliesin]

i shit you not, that drawing reference i reblogged earlier that explains the different ways that fat is stored in the body and its relation to bones and muscle groups, and how to use common drawing techniques to reflect a diverse amount of body shapes? that shit had me looking in the mirror before my shower just appreciating my own body shape and how it’s changed over the years and throughout my transition, and all i’ve gotta say is this shit is important

[7classyantiquestores]

I’ve heard some people suggesting that Veilguard is going to turn out being another DA2, and honestly, if it could scratch even a tiny bit of what DA2 accomplished in its clunky half-finished form, I would probably like it.

DA2 is a demonstration of BioWare knowing what their brand is all about, and knowing how to prioritize that over everything else. Legitimately it doesn’t matter to me how ugly the game is if the world is full of compelling characters and a tight, well-rounded narrative. Good writing and character performance can breathe life into a world, even if that world is just the same two cave and building maps pasted over and over. Just like having brilliant actors on a mid stage. Sure, you can see the stage ninja wheeling in the garden backdrop for the upcoming romantic rendezvous, but it doesn’t matter if you’re wholly captivated by the story unfolding in front of you. Honestly, I wish that upon Veilguard. Be a little clunky, have some odd quirks that fans will be divided over for the next decade, all that — but make the story something that will come grip me by the front of the shirt and give me something I’ll remember.

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[mars-ipan]

what was one of your formative gay experiences when you were a kid. a big one for me was random girls in gym class asking if they could play with my hair

[the-somwthing]

ppl will go on about Scott’s horrible treatment of Jimmy or even Pearl but I’m out here ranting and raving about his horrible treatment of Joel and nobody cares because I also say they’re gay 😔

[diorkittys]

somethin’ sweet before i go ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ vi + fem!reader

synopsis : when your arrest turns out to be an attractive, arrogant zaunite who’s, obviously, had a bad night, there’s one thing she asks for before being turned in. c’mon, can’t you give her something sweet before handing her to a cold cell?

—TW : kinda hate fucking , fingering , dom!vi , afab , post jinx attack

“hey, princess, any chance you’re sweet enough to loosen these up a bit?” your pinkette prisoner grunts, rolling a kink out her neck.

your expression is nothing short of unimpressed for the taunting games your newest problem has come up with. glaring up from your paperwork, you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, “quit with the pet names—do you find your situation funny?” you turn around to face the arrogant zaunite, cuffed hands extended behind her back. you found it rather annoying how nonchalant she was—or worst, she found this amusing. “you are being detained for assault,” you continue, “that’s a night in jail, ‘sweet stuff.’” mocking her previous taunt.

she just scoffed, but it was far from being insulted. a sly smirk and dangerous blue eyes peaking beneath cherry strands looked up at you.

“ya’ think i’m sweet, princess?”

you hear the familiar clanking of metal rubbing against each other, bringing attention to her restraints.

“undo the cuffs and i’ll treat you sweet all nigh-“ her prurient statement cut off by the force of your forearm knocking into her chest, subsequently shoving her against the wall.

“you forget yourself, trencher,” your arm jabs in the smug, although rather charming (and quite attractive), outlaw’s chest, and her eye twitches in a wince. “you’re in my territory now—it’d suit you well to not make a fool of me; i’m sure you’ve been taught the same in that… mess of a city across the bridge.”

your tongue held venom as you almost seemingly spat out the insult like it was truly sickening to speak of. there’s an unspoken challenge being held between the both of your glares. you tack on a huff from your flared nostrils to seal the conversation and to warn the zaunite in front of you from talking back.

but as the tense silence subsides, the cherry-haired woman draws out a teasing smirk, scoffing again, “ever been to the undercity, sweet-cheeks?”

her question seemed more rhetorical than anything. you didn’t answer, clenching your jaw, keeping your eyes fixated on hers as to not give a look of submission. she took your quietness as a ‘no’ and raised a brow,

“thought so.”

she leaned her head in closer, as close as your arm would allow—although, there wasn’t much distance to set you apart anyways. her eyes lidded now as your confidence wavered from the almost predatory air hung around her; like when a lion, hidden in the tall grass, gets a perfect angle of their prey.

“they’d eat that pretty, little ass up as soon as you stepped foot beyond that bridge.”

you gasped, quietly, eyes widened at her obscene words. you could already feel your body betraying you, blood involuntarily heating up the plump of your cheeks.

the arm held sturdy against your prisoner was now weak, a second thought; not to her, no, that was accordingly.

calloused hands snaked their way to your waist, armored with enforcer gold, a symbol of integrity to wear, resolute.

your eyes flicked to the (god, she is attractive) woman near inches away; you were trapped in a lion’s den, she was already staring back at you.

“how di—when did you…”

so much for standing your ground—your stuttering voice gave it all away.

“what? get those things off?” she chuckled, motioning back behind her, “you were right ‘bout one thing, princess: i learned a whole deal in that ‘mess of a city’.”

she near whispered your quote, not hushed, but emphasized, troublingly so. her hands wandered, dangerously, coming to settle at the plush of your hips, hips that had you bent atop her. a deft thumb pushed pass your attire and gently circled into your bare skin.

“are you… are you gonna hurt me?” you pressed your lips in a fine line, apprehensively awaiting a dreaded answer.

but to your surprise, she paused, then snorted, and in a quick motion, she manhandled you to sit on her lap. you yelped in shock, your hands were rigid against her chest that you were so very close to now; stiff as a board as you feared for the worst.

“can’t a girl want somethin’ sweet before you send me to a cold, hard cell, huh?” now the finger in charge of exploring your supple skin came to swipe at your plush bottom lip. “but if you want it to hurt i can make that happen too.” her voice was sultry, thick with an insatiable desire.

your proximity gave you a chance to see the small initial tattooed on her cheek, “vi.” you spoke out loud, really only for you to memorize.

vi smirked, “yeah, princess? don’t wear it out just yet.”

your brows furrowed, pursing your lips; you tried to move, but vi had a firm hold on your hips that just wouldn’t let up… (not that you even tried that hard). “piltover station will be here soon… we can’t—i can’t be seen like this; this is unprofessional.”

“when’d you make that call?” honestly, vi was barely listening to your reluctance and excuses, busying herself with unfastening your gold belt that you hardly even noticed.

“an hour ago.”

“then we have an hour to ourselves. c’mon, do you really think ‘proper piltover station’ is any more worried about a call for an undercity scum than the rest of the hundred they receive a day? they’re preoccupied with the councilors after that attack… seems to me like they left you out the loop, hot stuff.”

you took offense to her insulting jab at your importance, disregarding her sing-song mockery of addressing piltover station. you reached for her wrist that was unbuttoning the blue fabric of your enforcer two-split skirt, “what is that supposed to mean?”

she took no notice to your grip and pushed aside the outer garment, glancing back up at you through that addictive, crimson hair. she gave a dry smirk, “didn’t mean to rile you up, princess—just meant that i could treat you better than them.”

that betraying flush tickled your cheeks once again, and you, rather hesitantly, let way of your grasp, allowing her to do what she needs.

she snorted, in an amused manner, tapping your thigh, “sit up.” how shameful it was for you, an enforcer, to take commands from anyone else—let alone an… undersider. yet, here you were, standing upright as she told you to, albeit a little more eager than intended; you hoped she hadn’t noticed.

she noticed.

her legs spread out on the chair, making her appear even larger than her stature gave her credit for. she bent over, resting her elbows on her thighs as she pulled at the hem of your khaki shorts. you assisted and looped two thumbs at the waistband to shimmy down your legs. your shorts pooled at your feet and vi leaned back to admire the sexy sight she had in front of her with a grin on her face.

a pretty enforcer, nervous as can be, with a half-undone uniform and pink, lace panties exposed just for her. what a contrasting view. you were captivating. already trained to take orders like a puppy, she’d think in her crude mind; you’d be her good girl for a while, you’d be so good for her.

with two fingers, she motioned for you to come sit back down on her lap; the way her legs manspread was inviting enough. you obliged, holding onto her broad shoulders.

those engrossing fingers came back to handle your hips, slowly moving to cup the mound of your ass and kneading. you huffed, painted nails digging into her trapezius.

“ya’ like pink, princess?” she mentioned your cute, lacey panties; although, now stained a darker shade.

your eyes flickered up to her hair before timidly searching anywhere else to keep your focus busy. vi found that cute, not admitting that that turned her on way more than it should.

“i don’t disdain it.” you purse your lips, “and quit calling me that.”

vi chuckled, “but you’re poised, like a princess.”

“you have no idea of me.”

“well, i know you’re risking your title just so i can get you off,” fingers go to trace the hem of your panties, her middle drags along your clit muffled by the fabric. she grins, “and by the looks of it, you’re enjoying the thrill.”

you gasp at the sensation, a feeling your pussy was aching for. “is it because you know we might get caught? geez, princess, you into that kind of thing?” she almost laughs at you, but not to mock you; she finds that hot as fuck.

adept hands push the annoying polyester to the side. fingers, rather spider-like, creep over your throbbing cunt; middle and index gather your pooling slick to act as lube as she glides over your clit.

you bite your lip to suppress a moan. you find your legs begin to tremble, being forced open by her own, keeping you spread for her to do as she likes.

“i didn’t know topsiders could be so dirty.” this time she does laugh. she rubs at your clit long enough for your heart rate to pick up, long enough for your head to find stability on her shoulder, long enough for you to become a mess in her hands… but, not long enough for you to get off just yet.

vi reaches down to your neglected hole, pressing her index atop it, deep enough for an audible squelch to echo through your office, which in turn makes vi groan. you mewl, nails digging deeper into the muscle of her back.

“not so poised now, though.” she mutters, mostly to herself. with your dripping slick, it takes nothing more than a swift movement for vi to slide her index inside you, bottoming out knuckles deep. you keen, arching off her chest. the scratch from her bandages only added fuel to the fire.

“fuck.” vi’s grip on your hip strengthens, almost certainly leaving a prominent bruise later. “do that for me again, princess.”

and she didn’t have to ask because as she pulls her finger almost fully out, tantalizingly slow, she greedily shoves it right back in, curling the tip of it to hit in that, god, that perfect spot you know so well.

and, again, you keen, long and guttural—like a silent scream. subconsciously, your pelvis bucks into her hand, searching for more than you could even take.

after a few minutes of this, vi deems herself your voice and determines you’re ready for two. she pulls out entirely, much to your dismay, teasing you with a pause.

you brace yourself for something that never comes, and you huff, slightly pushing yourself up off her shoulder,

“vi… don’t st—“

and she stuffs her middle and index into your pretty, impatient pussy.

“ah!”

“who said i was stopping, pumpkin? we just started.” you slam your head back to its assigned spot.

vi thought she was right in this moment: you looked a complete and utter mess. it was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, it was another thing that she had a topsider, an officer—someone who, to piltover, was a woman of dignity and honor… a rich, privileged somebody who hated zaunites, found them filthy and worthless…hunched over her shoulder with a sopping cunt you were practically begging her to abuse. now that’s ironic. (and was you coming undone for her maybe a little bit of a victory for her hatred of topside, that she was degrading—fucking someone so noble?)

“shit, baby,” vi cursed, biting her lip. her whole train of thought did nothing but make her more horny, and she pumped extra hard this time, making sure even the graze of her knuckle filled you up.

“when’s the last time someone’s fucked you like this?” she chuckled—you hated her smug little laugh.

you sneered, just not before you moaned into the crook of her neck, breath fanning over her black-inked tattoos. “that’s, fuck, none of your concern, underside.” you spat, but, really, your words held no weight, not like this.

“hey, no need for the name calling, princess; if you’re a virgin too that’s totally fine—honestly kinda hot.” she teased, grabbing the mound of your ass to raise you up and slam back down on her fingers. you cried, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in that (rememberable) cherry hair.

“i’m not!—i’ve had—ugh! i’ve done this plenty of times… not that, ah, you should need to know.”

“oh yeah? you fuck a lot of your inmates then?… or is that just my privilege?” vi leaned into your ear, knowing that’d get you going. and what do you know? it did.

and you would’ve argued back, head picked up and everything, had she not curled her fingers the way she did or twist to find an ever better playing field or, god! even the lechery in her voice had you toppling over, had you right there! yes, fuck, right there!

“fuck, vi, right there! keep going! yeah, right there, ugh!” you moaned, legs shaking, trying desperately to close and hide away from how fucking good this felt.

you bucked into her hand and you didn’t have to tell vi twice because she was already pumping extra hard and faster than before, with a combination of her thumb rubbing circles into your swollen clit.

“shit, princess. almost there?” she already knew the answer. she was groaning as if she was fucking herself; just the pure sight of you, of this, was enough… although, she’d need to engrave this memory into her brain and use it later to get off herself (she could use this picture of you to get off for years it felt like).

“vi!”

you sang like gospel, pulling her hair like you’d fall if you hadn’t. you came hard, right on her bandaged fingers and she road you through it until the only thing you could hear in the room was the lewd, wet noises coming from your hole.

she stuffed you full of your own juices and at that point, you couldn’t tell if that or her hands were more filling.

you were both panting, one more than the other. vi hoisted your left leg over hers to hold you bridal style as you settled down. bringing her hand to the light, she pulled apart her middle and index to watch your slick web between them and she weakly laughed.

blue eyes looked over to the gold, industrial clock you had sitting on your work-desk, reading a quarter til’ 12. she sighed, picking you up with her before setting you on the chair you had originally handcuffed her to.

“looks like i gotta go, princess.” she feigned innocent, as if this whole interaction was a drive by. one by one she picked up discarded clothing and crouched at your legs to dress you back up. you, too tired to protest to being treated like a child, let her dress you like a doll, even buckling up your belt.

you watched as she went to write something on a piece of sticky note paper you had sitting by your confidential files before turning to walk out the door, running a hand through her hair.

“you can’t leave—you’re… you’re under arrest.” there was no confidence in your tone, just a fucked out raspy voice.

vi stopped before leaving, hands in her pockets, “tell ‘em officer kiramann already came to pick me up, they won’t give you trouble.” she threw the hood of her red jacket over her head, reaching for the doorknob.

“oh, and… meet me at my place if you wanna do this again… okay, princess?”

[icterid-rubus]

Bumble person suggested calling or video chatting since we can’t meet in person until late March and I think somehow, incredibly, I would be even more socially inept on the phone than in person.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-top vi with a dick. fem power-bottom reader. vaginal sex. breeding.

wc; 1,586

thinking about whiny, girlcock vi who has the most sensitive dick you’ve ever bared witness to. the two of you have been hooking up for months now and she might be the best sex you’ve ever had. her reactions are priceless too, especially when she first pops the head of her cock inside your hole and she looks like she’s ascended to heaven. you can always picture her blissed out face so clearly in your mind whenever you touch yourself.

her cock is girthy, so fat that you can’t even fit your entire hand around it, and when she’s inside you, you can feel her reach your bellybutton. plus, when she’s fucking into you, she moans as if she’s the one getting fucked. if anyone were to overhear, they’d assume those were your squeaky whimpers, the sounds of you begging.

sometimes you try to just lay back and relax, allow vi to ravage you with her cock, but then she’s breaking you out of your trance and asking if it feels good, if she’s doing it right—and you sigh because she’s so dependent on you, she needs you to tell her what to do. your pussy makes her feel dumb, it makes her brain melt out of her head.

currently, you’re in her lap, bouncing on her cock like she’s nothing more to you than a toy. you’re riding her with a maddeningly slow rhythm, just because you like the faces she makes when you do; like vi can’t decide if it feels good or if she’s going to cry out of frustration.

you whimper, clenching down hard on the thick shaft impaling you, feeling it pulse and throb inside your fluttering walls, feeling the heartbeat in the thick veins running up the sides. you grinds your hips down, taking vi as deep as she can go, loving the way that her fat cock-head kisses your cervix.

vi’s desperation is palpable, her hips twitching and jerking with the effort of holding still, of letting you set the pace. It's clear that she's absolutely dying to just grab your hips and rail into you with pathetic fervor, to fuck you through the goddamn mattress until you’re both a babbling, drooling mess. but she's trying so hard to be good, to let you use her like the fucktoy she is.

vi’s hips twitch with uncontrollable desperation against you and a sudden cry escapes her lips. “baby, fuuuck, please—just, just a little bit faster—ohh!”

“are you really going to—hmmff—going to make me tell you again, vi? stay still,” you say, grabbing her face firmly, cupping her chin so she’s forced to look up and see the disappointment in your eyes. then you lean in, capturing vi’s lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as you suck the air from her lungs. you bite at vi’s bottom lip, tugging on it with your teeth before soothing the sting with a kitten-lick of your tongue. she moans into your mouth, pulling you closer to her chest with frenzy of hands. “just make me come. okay, sweetheart? then we can, ahh, talk about what to do with you.”

vi chokes on a sob. her eyes, so blue, are staring at you pleadingly. “you’re so t-tight—unghhh! holy shit, i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she mindlessly babbles.

vi clearly doesn’t realize the strength in which she’s gripping onto your waist, because it’s hurting you, but right now you can’t even bring yourself to care enough. you’re consumed by the thought of her cock, excited to feel her come inside you, to stuff you full of her arousal. the pain at your waist stings pleasantly anyway, it makes your pussy clench around her cock harder and she gasps as if she’s been stabbed.

”shhh, i know it’s hard, baby. but you gotta—hnngh—hold it together for me, you gotta wait until i’m, ahh, ready to come. don’t you want to feel me come around your cock?”

vi’s chest is heaving and her face is flushed a deep, pretty candy-pink. she’s staring at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. she looks utterly debauched, completely lost in the feeling of your velvet heat squeezing her so fucking tight, but she nods obediently anyway. she’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

”mmm, you can take it,” you say encouragingly, rubbing circles on her rosy nipples. vi’s head falls back against your headboard, moaning like she’s been gutted. you know she’s going to have a sore throat after this because she hasn’t been quiet once.

”ughh, mmmff, yes—“ vi’s moans are raspy and urgent. her breaths come out in sharp, staccato gasps and her eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep them open.

you hum pleasantly, pleased to see that you’re making vi feel so good, like she’s on another astral plane. sex with her is always intimate and passionate, despite how cruel you can often be.

vi puckers her lips, tilting her chin up to capture your own in a slow, deep kiss. it’s a stark contrast to the frantic, desperate kisses you shared earlier. your tongue traces the seam of vi’s lips, coaxing them apart, and then you’re slipping inside to stroke along vi’s own tongue, tasting her, savoring her.

vi whimpers into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as she loses herself in the sensual slide of your mouths. she can taste herself on your tongue from an hour ago, when you had her cock down your throat. the lingering flavor of her own arousal mixes with the unique taste that is purely you, and it makes her head spin with desire.

pulling away, you pepper kisses down her neck—vi is sensitive everywhere, not just her cock. you suck more bruises into her flesh, laving your tongue over older marks that are beginning to fade away.

vi gasps sharply. she’s always been a sucker for neck kisses.

then, despite your numerous warnings this entire time, vi’s cock starts swelling as her orgasm approaches faster. you can feel her skin buzzing and you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, to remind her that you haven’t come yet, until she starts thrusting her hips up into your with abandon. you bite your tongue, holding onto her broad shoulders for dear life. your breasts bounce right in her face.

”yes, yes—oh my god, yes!” you cry, and you’re close, you can feel electricity starting in your toes and making its way up your body. 

vi’s back is arching off your headboard, her toes are curling in the sheets. her toned body withers beneath you, the muscles in her arms flexing as she starts to lose herself in the intense pleasure radiating from her core.

“fuck me, fuck me—nghhh, fuck me!” vi is chanting, then her words dissolve into a soundless scream of ecstasy as her climax crashes over her. 

vi’s entire body tenses up; she feels like a rock beneath you—hard muscles and all. her cock erupts like a volcano inside your pussy, jet after jet of white-hot come filling your womb. she’s shamelessly painting your insides white and her eyes are rolled back in bliss, her tongue lolling out of her mouth like a dumb puppy. she’s completely lost in the throes of her orgasm; she’s dizzy with the pleasure wracking her body.

you have no choice but to clench down hard on vi’s spasming cock, milking it for her entire creamy load. you grind down hard on her twitching shaft, taking every last inch of it inside your pussy. you want to feel vi’s come sloshing around in your stuffed cunt, you want to be absolutely filled with her essence.

vi’s cock gives a few more feeble pulses inside your hot, clenching cunt before finally starting to soften, the thick shaft slumping heavily against your stuffed walls.

that’s when you begin to orgasm on her cock, while she’s sensitive and exhausted, and vi lets out a sob when she feels your pussy walls contracting around her. it’s her punishment for coming before you. and you redouble your efforts, slamming your hips down with a brutal, punishing force that has the headboard slamming against the wall.

“ohhh, vi—mmf! feels so good, babe,” you moan, rolling your hips fast and uncoordinated. you’re grinding down on her so hard that you can feel her heavy balls slap against your ass, the ones that emptied her thick load inside you.

vi grips onto your waist, trying to pull you off her cock with hazy eyes, but you shove her hands away until you’re completely satisfied. vi lets out a garbled moan, her eyes rolling back in her head. every time you roll your hips and drop them into her lap, it sounds like you’re jumping in a puddle of rain outside; because vi’s lap is completely drenched in your wetness, her fat loads of come are messily spilling out around her cock, too much to fit inside you—making the mess even worse.

“fuuck—unngh!” vi sobs.

when you’re done, you collapse against vi’s chest. she looks utterly ruined, completely fucked out and satisfied in a way that makes your heart clench with possessive pride. vi sits there, utterly boneless and spent.

you don’t have the heart to be mad at her.

(2/4/25)

[nezuscribe]

gojo is used to strange people with strange requests. he gets paid for doing people’s dirty work, things they’d never do themselves, so this is pretty standard in his line of work.

he had to survive somehow, and if becoming the bidder of bad tidings was what made him coin, then he wasn’t one to complain.

another thing that gojo had gotten especially good at is knowing when somebody is looking for him. it’s usually scurried glances and sweaty palms that give them away. which is why now, as he’s resting an ale in hand at the back of the tavern, does he feel this sense go off.

he sits alone, not looking up from his drink as he feels a set of eyes on him. tonight was his night of rest, his horse was sleeping outside, and he had booked a room just for himself. he didn’t care what they gave him. he was checked out for the night.

the room is crowded, with loud and boisterous laughter filling any gaps of silence. people are taking and shouting, but it doesn’t mask the set of footsteps getting near to where he was trying to hide away from everybody else.

gojo keeps his head down, his nose wrinkling in annoyance when timid hands set a pouch in front of him. filled to the brim with gold, most likely.

“i need your help,” a voice, frightful and cracking, says.

gojo rolls his eyes. this isn’t the first time a girl has run away from his rich family and begs him for a chance away. but he’s done that too many times, gone through too much. he’d rather just kill the parents. he takes a sip of his drink, resting his back on the wall.

he knows how this usually goes. a girl wants to run away, she finds him, they end up running away, only for the girl to feel guilty and beg him to take her back home. either that or she has no plan in mind and forces him on an endless chase to somewhere she doesn’t even know.

judging by the tone of your voice, he’s betting you’re a mix of both right now.

“i’m not offering any help right now,” he says, twisting a ring back and forth on his fingers, one he had stollen a while ago.

“i have more gold,” you beg, “i need your help… please. i heard you’re the only person who’s made it through the north alive.”

gojo glances up at you briefly, taking in your bruised and cut face, most likely from running away, at your eyes filled with tears, and at the way your lips trembled.

his eyes flit away momentarily, not expecting you to take him by surprise. you look more roughed up than the other girls he’s seen so far, a certain heaviness in your stare.

“no.” he says bluntly and your gaze seems to waver just slightly. you gnaw on your lips, wondering how you could change your speech to change his mind.

“my father wants me to marry this man. he’s,” you shudder a little bit at the thought, “inhuman. if i don’t get away soon his men will find me. i,” your breathing shudders, “i can’t let them find me.”

gojo sighs deeply though his nose. so much for a relaxful evening.

his eyes search yours again, and he feels a different urgency that he’s never felt before. something that tells him that this is different, that if he doesn’t help you it’s going to be more than a simple punishment of your father taking away your allowance.

“where’s the rest of your gold?” he looks to your empty hands and then back up to your face.

you sputter, looking at him in shock.

“i-in my satchel,” you swallow thickly, “i left it near your horse.”

his mouth almost quirked upwards.

“where do you want to go?” he asks, watching as your posture straightens up a bit.

“to the shore,” you say, “i’ll get the soonest ship out.”

gojo stares at you and you stare at him. he surveys the pouch of gold, knowing it’s more than he’s ever made in months, something he desperately needs.

he rubs a hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he thinks.

“when do you need to leave?” he asks although gojo already mows the wretched answer.

you look bashful as you duck your head down.

“n-now, if possible.”

gojo stares at your pouch a little bit longer. he downs the rest of his drink as he stands up, eyes raking over your features. if it weren’t for time and place he might’ve asked you to accompany him back to his room.

you stare back at him silently and he quirks his silver brow.

“what?” he grumbles, “get your things. we’re leaving.” a small smile breaks its way into your face as you collect your measly bag and your satchel of gold.

gojo knows he shouldn’t have said yes the moment he saw you grin, knowing that you weren’t an ordinary girl and this wasn’t an ordinary request. but he didn’t find it in himself to care.

at least for now, he didn’t.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader do the “we listen and we don’t judge” challenge

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

cute lil suggestion <3

Y/n set her phone up with a smile on her lips, Drew sitting next to her at their kitchen island, his hair messy as he took a sip of coffee. The two of them had finally gotten out of bed after an hour of cuddling in the early morning light of their bedroom, chatting and showing each other videos the other thought they’d like. After making the two of them coffee, y/n decided it would be fun to make a little video of their own.

“Ok, let’s go.” Y/n grinned, pressing record and sitting back on her stool.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said, Drew looking at y/n with a quirk of his brow as he anticipated y/n’s answer.

“The real reason I got a black eye last summer was because I ran into the wall when I was on my phone, not because I fell while shooting.” Y/n bit her lip. Drew already knew that, having witnessed the incident, but the two of them had agreed to keep up the lie to spare the embarrassment and teasing from the rest of the cast.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“Sometimes I pretend to be asleep just so I can listen to you talk to yourself in the morning.” Drew smirked. Y/n had a habit of talking to herself in preparation for the day, sometimes even singing a bit as she got around. It was a habit Drew found endearing, but he knew if she knew he was awake she would stop… so he pretended to be asleep.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to… poop in our bathroom and would walk to Madelyn’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Y/n giggled. Drew’s cheeks flushed, trying his best not to spit out his coffee.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to poop in our bathroom and would walk to Austin’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Drew said. Y/n’s jaw dropped, the two of them laughing at their common secret.

“So nobody pooped in our bathroom for the first few months we lived together?” Y/n asked with a giggle.

“I had a crush on you! I didn’t want you to think I was gross.” Drew blushed, swirling his coffee aimlessly. Y/n pouted playfully before pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

“Ok, ok. Back to business.” Y/n said.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“I have a folder of edits of you on my Tik Tok I watch when I miss you.” Y/n laughed, covering her face as Drew tried to hold back his giggles.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“One time when I was really drunk I accidentally used like all of your really nice shampoo and blamed it on my sister when she was visiting.” Drew smirked, biting his lip. “I had a buzzcut at the time too, so I don’t know what inspired me to do that.”

“I knew it wasn’t her!” Y/n gasped.

“We don’t judge! We don’t judge!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Yes, yes, sorry.” Y/n smiled.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“The first time you made me Mama Jodi’s casserole I think you messed something up because I got really bad food poisoning, but I didn’t want to tell you because you were so excited.” Y/n said quickly. Drew’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping at her confession.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said together.

“I asked my mom for her ring after only four months of us dating.” Drew said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She had known the ring he had proposed to her with was his mothers, updated by Drew to match y/n’s own taste, and she knew he had been holding onto it for a while, but she didn’t realize just how long.

“Are you serious?” Y/n raised her brows in surprise, her stomach fluttering.

“I knew you were it for me.” Drew said with a simple shrug. Y/n felt her cheeks grow warm as she flung her arms around Drew’s broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you and your big, romantic heart, Starkey.” Y/n grinned up at him, her arms still resting on his shoulders. Drew smiled back at her, his eyes scanning over her face with a smile on his lips.

“I love you… even if you have a folder of saved Tik Toks of me—” Drew giggled.

“We don’t judge!” Y/n laughed.

“We don’t judge.” Drew grinned, pressing a quick kiss to y/n’s nose before ending the video.