#idk how to word what I’m thinking. help.

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 3

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 5.2k

warning: language

firstly i js wanted to say that yall NEED to check out @pazzispizookies series !! its genuinely soooo so so good and deserves all the love 🫶🏽

heres chap 3 for yall !!! i tried to follow ur guys suggestions so i hope its alr 😭 idk if its good but um yur hopefully u guys like it 🤞🏽

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“Yo, let’s go,” Aubrey called, tugging her hoodie on as she stepped into the hallway of their dorm. “Class isn’t gonna wait for your little daydream.”

Paige looked up from her phone, blinking like she’d been caught red-handed. “I’m coming,” she said, stuffing the phone in her pocket even though she hadn’t actually been doing anything on it. Just… staring at the home screen.

Aubrey eyed her suspiciously but said nothing.

The morning was crisp as they stepped outside, the sun still low enough to cast long shadows across campus. They walked side by side, feet crunching over gravel and dead leaves, the quiet broken only by the occasional chirp of birds or the distant hum of early lectures starting.

“So,” Aubrey said casually, kicking at a small rock on the path. “You gonna tell me how yesterday went?”

Paige frowned. “Yesterday?”

Aubrey gave her a look. “Don’t play dumb. Azzi. Tutoring. Ringing any bells?”

“Oh,” Paige said quickly. “That.”

“Yes, that. You had a whole session with your little brainiac crush and didn’t text me once after. I was starting to think you died mid-equation or something.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small grin that tugged at her lips. “It was fine.”

Aubrey laughed. “Fine? That’s the best you’ve got? C’mon, spill. You were losing your shit about it before you left. I need a play-by-play.”

Paige let out a breath, hands shoved deep in her pockets. “Okay. It actually wasn’t terrible. She’s really good at explaining stuff. Like, not just smart-smart, well she is, but actually patient. Broke things down in a way that made sense. We ran through some practice questions, and I didn’t feel like a complete idiot for once.”

Aubrey gave her a small nudge with her elbow. “Proud of you, mathlete.”

“I’m serious,” Paige said. “It was… kinda nice. I got one of the problems right without help, and she seemed genuinely impressed.”

Aubrey grinned. “You sound like you just got a gold star.”

Paige ignored the teasing. “She even said I was improving.”

“Well damn,” Aubrey said, mockingly putting a hand over her heart. “Growth.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, eyes on the path. “But yeah, it wasn’t awkward. Which I was worried about.”

“So you two talked?”

“A bit,” Paige admitted. “Nothing crazy. I asked her when she wanted to meet again for our next session and she said tomorrow works but I forgot when, so… um yeah that’s the plan.”

Aubrey smirked. “Look at you already booking the sequel.”

Paige groaned. “It’s tutoring, not a date.”

“Sure,” Aubrey said, clearly unconvinced.

Paige shook her head but didn’t argue. Not out loud, at least.

Aubrey gave her a side glance. “So… did you find out anything interesting about her? Or were y’all just buried in notebooks the whole time?”

Paige hesitated. “Actually… she told me she used to play basketball.”

That made Aubrey blink. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “Said she played in high school but stopped after losing love and motivation for the game. Didn’t go into too much detail, but she mentioned it when we took a little mental break. She gets what it’s like to balance stuff.”

“Damn. That’s kinda wild,” Aubrey said. “No wonder she seems like she’scool under pressure. Probably used to high-stakes shit.”

Paige smiled a little at that. “Yeah. It was unexpected, though. I don’t know why, but I didn’t picture her as the athlete type.”

“Well,” Aubrey said, throwing an arm loosely over Paige’s shoulder as they kept walking, “you also didn’t picture her being pretty until she was sitting three feet from you helping you solve for equations.”

Paige groaned again, louder this time. “Can we not do this right now?”

Aubrey just laughed. “Hey, I'm not even judging. I’m just saying, it’s cute. You like her brain and her face. Classic.”

“I barely know her,” Paige muttered.

“And yet you were smiling like an idiot just now thinking about her.”

Paige elbowed her. “Shut up.”

They kept walking, but Aubrey glanced over, her voice quieter. “You really do like her, huh?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just shrugged, eyes on the concrete.

“I dunno,” she finally said. “She’s cool. She’s smart. And she… I don’t know. She’s just different. In a good way. She’s not weird about me being on the team or whatever. Doesn’t treat me like I’m some—”

“Celebrity?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I had a moment with some fans yesterday and she just stood back and watched. Didn’t look annoyed or anything. Just… kinda curious.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Curious how?”

Paige’s cheeks flushed slightly. “She said I surprised her. Said I wasn’t like she expected.”

Aubrey looked smug now. “Oh? And how exactly did she expect you to be?”

“Apparently like a stuck-up diva,” Paige said dryly. “Big-time athlete energy.”

Aubrey burst out laughing. “Oh my. She thought you were gonna be one of those ‘don’t-look-me-in-the-eye’ types?”

Paige grinned reluctantly. “Something like that.”

“Well,” Aubrey said, nudging her. “At least she thinks you’re better than you look.”

“Oh well, thanks.”

“I’m just saying. Sounds like you’re making a decent impression.”

Paige exhaled slowly. “I don’t think she sees me like that, though.”

Aubrey was quiet for a moment. “How do you mean?”

“I dunno. She’s nice. And I think we’re getting along. But she’s… I don’t know. Neutral. In a good way. Like, focused. She’s not flirty or anything.”

“Well, you’ve known her what? 2 days?”

“Exactly,” Paige said. “It’s not like I’m trying to rush anything.”

Aubrey bumped her shoulder. “Still. Don’t count yourself out. You’re a catch.”

Paige gave her a look. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong.

They reached the building just as the first bell rang in the distance. Paige reached for the door, then paused.

“Thanks, though,” she said. “For listening.”

Aubrey smiled. “Anytime. You better keep me posted after your next session.”

Paige opened the door and held it for her. “No promises.”

“You mean yes, then.”

“Shut up.”

They both stepped inside, laughter echoing down the hallway.

—----------------------

“I’m still waiting,” Caroline said, sliding into her seat next to Azzi with the casual confidence of someone who knew she’d get answers eventually.

Azzi blinked, startled out of her thoughts as she adjusted her hoodie sleeve and sat up straighter. “For what?”

Caroline gave her a look. “Don’t play dumb. The session. You and Paige. Yesterday. How’d it go?”

Azzi hesitated, eyes flicking toward the front of the room where the professor was still getting the slides set up. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Caroline scoffed. “Cmon, you know I’m not accepting a dry little ‘fine’ when you were tutoring Paige Bueckers. The girl who usually ghosts help like it’s contagious? She showed up for tutoring. With you. Spill.”

Azzi smiled a little despite herself, glancing down at her open notebook, though she hadn’t written anything yet. “I mean, she showed up. On time. Sat across from me and listened.”

Caroline raised a brow. “And?”

“And she was… not what I expected.”

Caroline leaned in, grinning now. “How so?”

Azzi let out a small breath and tried to find the words. “She wasn’t super talkative. Kind of quiet, actually. But like, in a sweet way. She didn’t pretend to understand everything like I thought she would. She was just… really present. Asked questions, paid attention.”

“Hmm,” Caroline said, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Azzi tilted her head. “How so?”

“That’s what I meant the other day,” Caroline said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Paige usually has this… front. All confident and cocky and loud. But around certain people, she’s different. Calmer. Like she’s letting her guard down a bit.”

Azzi blinked, thinking back. “She definitely wasn’t cocky. I mean, she joked a little at the start, but mostly she was just focused. Or, at least she tried to be.”

“Tried?” Caroline asked.

Azzi hesitated again. “There were a few moments where… I caught her staring.”

Caroline’s brows shot up. “Staring?”

“Not like—” Azzi shook her head quickly. “Not in a weird way. Just… I’d be explaining something, and I’d pause to check if she was following, and she’d already be looking at me. Kinda like she forgot she was supposed to be paying attention to the material.”

Caroline smirked. “Okayyyy.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe she was zoning out. People do that all the time.”

“Paige doesn’t zone out when someone’s talking to her face,” Caroline said. “Unless that person’s, you know… distracting.”

Azzi gave her a dry look. “You’re impossible.”

Caroline held up her hands. “I’m just saying. Besides, you don’t seem bothered.”

“I wasn’t,” Azzi said honestly, twirling her pen between her fingers. “It was just… surprising. She’s sweet. More than I expected.”

There was a brief pause before Caroline asked, “Did she seem nervous?”

Azzi thought about it. “A little. But I couldn’t tell if it was about the subject or just… the situation.”

Caroline grinned. “Probably both.”

Azzi smiled faintly, but her mind was already slipping back to that part when Jace had walked up near the end of their session.

“Oh,” she added suddenly. “And there was this moment Jace came by.”

Caroline groaned immediately. “Ugh. That idiot. Let me guess. Trying to ‘schedule’ another session?”

Azzi snorted. “Yeah. I tutor him too.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “He’s the worst. If he’s not hitting on someone, he’s talking about himself.”

“Well…” Azzi shrugged. “He’s not that bad… Well, so far.”

Caroline looked at her like she was delusional. “Az, he once asked me if I thought he could ‘go pro in looks alone.’ That wasn’t a joke. Be for real.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “Fair.”

“What happened when he came over?”

Azzi hesitated. “Paige got kind of… stiff? I don’t know. At first I thought she just didn’t like him, oh well I mean she doesn't but then when he asked about our next session, she got a little defensive.”

Caroline blinked. “Defensive how?”

“She was just short with him. Told me he’s a ‘walking ego’ and a ‘player’ and that I should be careful.”

Caroline sat back slowly, eyebrows high. “Oooooo. Ok, Miss Protective Energy.”

Azzi glanced down, thoughtful. “I don’t think she meant it to come off so strong. She apologized after, kind of awkwardly. Said it came out weird.”

“But you noticed it,” Caroline said, nudging her lightly.

“I did,” Azzi admitted. “It just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting her to care that much.”

“She probably doesn’t even know why she cares that much yet,” Caroline murmured, like she was mostly talking to herself.

Azzi didn’t respond. She wasn’t about to overanalyze someone she��d only just started getting to know. She wasn’t crushing on Paige, and Paige hadn’t exactly been flirting—at least not directly. It was all so new and tentative. Still in that weird space between strangers and something else.

But she could admit this much to herself, Paige Bueckers was sweet. A little awkward. And maybe, just maybe, there was something about the way she looked at Azzi that didn’t feel entirely academic.

Azzi tapped her pen against her notebook and finally wrote a heading at the top of the page as the lecture began. It didn’t mean anything. Not yet.

It was just tutoring.

—----------------------

The library was warm and quiet, sunlight slicing through the tall windows and falling across the long tables. Azzi sat curled in a small booth tucked near the back, one leg folded underneath her and a textbook open in front of her, though she hadn’t read the same paragraph three times already.

Caroline plopped down across from her, chin in her hand, no book or laptop in sight.

“You don’t have to wait with me,” Azzi said, glancing up.

“Yeah, well, I’m not about to let you sit here alone while Jace ‘Mr. I Bench More Than I Read’ McCallister slides in with his axe smell and stupid smirk,” Caroline replied. “I’m providing moral support.”

Azzi laughed softly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. They sat in silence for a few seconds before Caroline perked up and leaned forward, eyes narrowing toward the open space on the other side of the library. “Hey. Look who’s here.”

Azzi followed her gaze and immediately spotted Paige—sitting at a big round table with KK, Ice, and Aubrey, all of them surrounded by a few classmates. Paige was laughing about something, one leg stretched out, gesturing wildly with her hands while she told a story. Her voice carried that familiar rasp lifting over the quiet library hum.

“Is she always like that?” Azzi asked, watching as Paige bumped shoulders with Ice and tossed her head back laughing.

“That,” Caroline said, pointing with her eyes, “is what I meant. That’s Paige in her default mode. Loud, confident, knows she’s hot shit and plays into it.”

Azzi frowned slightly, watching her. “She wasn’t like that with me.”

“Exactly,” Caroline said, voice low but knowing. “Two days ago, when you met her? She could barely make eye contact. Yesterday from what you told me? Nervous. Kinda flustered. Sat still and actually listened. That version?” She nodded toward the table “That's classic Paige.”

Azzi blinked, studying the difference. “It’s like… two different people.”

“Not two different people,” Caroline corrected. “Just two sides of her. One’s the mask. The other comes out around people who get under her skin.”

Azzi hummed quietly and looked down at her book. She didn’t know what it meant, or if it even meant anything. But it was noticeable. Paige was easy and loud over there, commanding the space. With Azzi, she’d been soft. Still funny, but careful. A little unsure.

“You think she does that around anyone else?” Azzi asked quietly.

“Nope,” Caroline said instantly. “Not like that.”

Before Azzi could respond, a sudden weight dropped next to her in the booth, and an all-too-familiar voice chimed in, entirely too close to her ear.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting, star student.”

Azzi nearly jumped, turning to see Jace sliding in like he owned the damn seat, pressing up against her like there weren’t several feet of empty space. His stupid, cocky smile was already in place. Worse, his arm flopped casually around the back of the booth, his hand barely brushing her shoulder.

“Geez, Jace,” Azzi muttered, inching slightly away, but there was nowhere to go.

Caroline, across the booth, didn’t even try to hide her disgust.

“Could you not?” she said flatly, eyes locking onto Jace like she was ready to start swinging. “Get your nasty ass arm off her.”

Jace blinked, grinning, clearly thinking it was a joke.

Caroline didn’t smile. “I’m not fucking around, either. You smell like a Hollister clearance bin and desperation.”

Azzi smothered a laugh behind her hand as Jace chuckled awkwardly and finally removed his arm.

“Alright, damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t know I needed permission to sit.”

“You don’t,” Caroline said, standing. “You just need manners. Something you clearly skipped in whatever athlete orientation you fumbled through.”

She grabbed her water bottle and gave Azzi a look. “Text me when you’re done. Don’t let him breathe on you too long. Might lower your IQ.”

“Thanks for the support,” Azzi said with a small smile as Caroline walked off.

Jace looked after her and scoffed. “What’s her problem?”

Azzi turned back to her notebook and flipped to a fresh page. “You, mostly.”

He laughed again like he wasn’t offended, leaning back as he stretched his legs under the table. “You ready to work?”

Azzi didn’t respond, instead just clicked her pen and looked at him with a tired expression.

“Let’s just start with this bit.”

—----------------------

The session had been going for maybe 20 minutes, but it felt like an hour.

Azzi kept her eyes on her notebook, trying to focus on equations and numbers, but it was hard when Jace kept leaning in like she was whispering secrets instead of solving problems.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered, squinting at the paper in front of him. “You sure this is right? I swear you’re making this up.”

Azzi didn’t look up. “It’s literally the textbook example.”

Jace huffed. “Yeah, but you didn’t even check a calculator. You just… knew it.” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice like it was some compliment. “Kinda hot how smart you are.”

Azzi’s grip on her pen tightened. She forced a polite smile. “It’s basic algebra.”

“Mmm,” he said, still too close. “You make it look good.”

She shifted, sliding her notebook slightly to the left to put more space between them. “Let’s move on to the next one.”

Meanwhile, across the library, Paige had just caught sight of them.

She froze mid-sentence, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Jace lean closer again, like Azzi had said something hilarious. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped talking until Ice nudged her leg under the table.

“You good?” Ice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, what?” Paige blinked, tearing her eyes away.

KK turned around and followed her gaze instantly. “Ugh,” she muttered. “Is that Jace over there?”

Aubrey leaned across the table. “Yeah. With Azzi.” Her voice dipped slightly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Paige said quickly. Too quickly.

KK snorted. “He’s so gross.”

“Right?” Ice added. “Why does he talk like he’s in a bad teen romcom?”

“I’m pretty sure he actually told someone last week that he’s ‘a beast at math’ and then failed a pop quiz,” Aubrey said, rolling her eyes.

Paige tried to look unbothered, but her jaw was tight.

“Seriously though,” Aubrey said, softer now. “You look like you’re gonna launch a textbook across the room.”

Paige forced a laugh. “I’m not jealous, ok? She’s just tutoring him.”

“No one said anything about being jealous,” Aubrey replied with a sly smile. “But now that you brought it up…”

“I said I’m not,” Paige muttered, shifting in her seat.

KK leaned in, grinning. “It’s giving jealousy in denial. Just saying.”

“Guys,” Paige groaned.

“She’s tutoring him and he’s being a creep,” Ice said plainly. “I’d be annoyed too.”

“I’m not annoyed,” Paige insisted, but her eyes drifted back to the table again just in time to see Jace make some exaggerated arm stretch that “accidentally” brushed Azzi’s shoulder again.

Paige’s nostrils flared. “I hate him.”

“Ah,” KK said with a grin. “There it is.”

Meanwhile, back at Azzi’s table, the vibe had not improved.

Jace leaned back, arms spread across the booth like he was chilling in a hot tub. “So like, what do you even do for fun when you’re not crunching numbers?”

Azzi didn’t look up. “Read. Study. Watch movies.”

“You should come to one of my parties sometime,” he said, flashing a grin. “Bet you’d loosen up after a drink or two.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I don’t drink.”

Jace chuckled like she was joking. “Cmon, you’re not that much of a nerd, are you?”

Azzi’s mouth opened slightly, ready to respond, but she was interrupted by a familiar voice approaching from behind.

“Thank god I came back.”

Caroline dropped into the booth beside Jace, her face a picture of calm disdain. “My class got canceled. But it looks like I’m just in time to keep you from spontaneously combusting from secondhand stupidity.”

Jace blinked at her. “You’re back? Damn, I was just getting into a rhythm.”

Caroline smiled sweetly. “Yeah, and that rhythm’s offbeat and annoying.”

Azzi coughed to hide her laugh.

Jace looked between them, confused but still trying. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to it. What’s this one?” He tapped a question Azzi had written down. “Why the hell are there letters in this?”

“It’s variables,” Azzi said. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but it’s like—when do you even use this in real life?”

Caroline didn’t miss a beat. “Hopefully never. Especially if you’re behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.”

He shot her a look. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know,” she smiled. “And not failing algebra.”

Azzi couldn’t help it, she snorted, finally meeting Caroline’s eyes for a second, grateful.

Jace leaned over again, and Caroline immediately pointed a pen at him like a weapon. “Back up. She’s trying to teach you, not catch your whatever axe spray fumes.”

“Geez,” Jace muttered, finally leaning away, sulking a bit.

Paige, still watching from the other side of the library, cracked a small grin as she saw Caroline push Jace’s textbook closer to him and reposition the notebook so Azzi didn’t have to keep shifting away. She didn’t even care if it looked obvious anymore. She was watching with her chin on her hand, eyes fixed on the little booth in the back like it was playing out in slow motion.

“She’s fine,” Aubrey said gently. “She’s got backup now.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, sitting up again. “I know.”

But her knee was still bouncing under the table.

And even though she kept telling herself it was just tutoring… that didn’t stop the annoying little heat crawling up her spine whenever Jace smiled at Azzi like she was some prize to win.

—----------------------

The bounce in Paige’s knee hadn’t stopped. She tried to stay chill, to tune back into whatever Ice was rambling about across the table, but her attention was magnetized to the back of the library like it had its own damn gravity. And Jace’s face? It made her want to commit minor crimes.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered suddenly, pushing back from her seat.

Aubrey looked up. “Where you going?”

“Bathroom,” Paige said, already moving.

The hallway to the restrooms wasn’t far, unfortunately for her blood pressure tt curved past the quiet study booths in the back, which meant she had to walk right by Azzi, Caroline, and Captain Walking Red Flag. She kept her gaze forward the whole way in, ignoring the flare of irritation in her chest when Jace laughed too loudly at something Azzi clearly hadn’t found funny.

Inside the bathroom, Paige splashed cold water on her face. You’re chill. You’re fine. You’re not mad. You’re not jealous. She stared at herself in the mirror and muttered, “You’re just normal. Totally normal.”

By the time she stepped out, she had composed herself or so she thought.

Caroline spotted her first. “Hey, Bueckers.”

Azzi’s head popped up, her face lighting up just a little. “Hi.”

Paige smiled—real, maybe a little shy, but real. “Hey,” she said back, eyes flicking to Azzi, then Caroline… and very pointedly skipping over Jace entirely.

That silence didn’t go unnoticed.

“Well hello to you too, Bueckers,” Jace drawled, leaning on the edge of the booth like he thought he was in a GQ shoot. “Don’t strain yourself or anything.”

Without missing a beat, Caroline deadpanned, “Shut the fuck up, Jace.”

Azzi tried, but failed to hide her smile behind her water bottle.

Paige smirked. “Didn’t even see you there,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Guess you really are forgettable.”

Jace’s grin faltered. Caroline snorted.

Paige turned slightly toward Azzi, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Uh, are we still good for our session tomorrow?”

Azzi nodded, already pulling out her planner. “Yeah, definitely.”

“What time works for you? I’m not too sure if we worked on one yesterday.” Paige asked, and if her voice cracked the tiniest bit, she hoped no one noticed. “I’ve got practice in the afternoon, so I’ll be wiped by like, 3.”

Azzi smiled thoughtfully, pen tapping her page. “Want to do it early in the evening? Cause I know you have a game the following day. So like, 7?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded quickly. “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Azzi hesitated a second, then added, “If you’re okay with it… we could do it at my dorm this time? Cause you know… It'll be too late for the library.”

“Sure,” Paige said, a little too fast. Then she caught herself and coughed lightly. “I mean, yeah. That sounds chill.”

Jace perked up again. “Damn, why didn’t I get the dorm invite? Could’ve made it a fun time.”

Caroline and Paige without even glancing at each other both said at the exact same time

“Because no one wants to catch secondhand brain rot.”

There was a pause.

And then they both cracked.

Paige wheezed. Caroline slapped the table and leaned back laughing. They reached over and dapped each other up like it was the easiest alley-oop in the world.

Azzi looked between them, eyes wide with amusement, and then glanced at Caroline who was now giving her that look. The one she gave earlier, the one that screamed: See what I meant? She’s different around you.

Azzi raised an eyebrow slightly, and Paige, still chuckling, looked back and forth between them.

“What?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Nothing,” Caroline said, drawing out the word with a grin.

Azzi just shrugged innocently. “Nothing,” she echoed, but her lips twitched.

Paige squinted. “You guys are pre’ weird.”

Before either of them could respond, Jace scoffed from the corner. “Yo, Bueckers, you done with your stand-up set or…?”

Paige didn’t even blink.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you were still here. You blend in so well with all the other mistakes.”

Caroline howled.

Even Azzi had to press her lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

Jace blinked, clearly flustered now. “Damn, you got jokes, huh?”

Paige gave him a deadpan look. “Nah, I’ve got patience. And it’s running out.”

Caroline slammed her hand on the table, cackling now. “She’s killing you, bro. Stop talking before she ends your bloodline.”

“Yall wild,” Jace muttered, clearly retreating now.

Paige just smirked. “See you tomorrow, Azzi,” she said, her voice softening a little as she glanced at her.

Azzi nodded, still half-smiling. “See you.”

“Bye, Caroline,” Paige added, already walking away.

Caroline shot finger guns in response. “Keep roasting creeps, Bueckers.”

And as Paige made her way back around the corner, the bounce in her step had returned but this time, it wasn’t frustration keeping her moving.

It was satisfaction. And maybe just a tiny bit of butterflies.

As soon as Paige rounded the corner and slid back into her seat, Aubrey’s eyebrows shot up. She had her arms crossed, chin resting on her fist like she was watching a live episode of Library Drama: Bueckers Edition.

“So…” Aubrey dragged the word out, voice way too casual. “What the hell was that?”

Paige blinked, all fake innocence. “What was what?”

“That little stand-up routine you just dropped back there,” Aubrey said, eyes narrowing. “The way you and Caroline just mind-melded into synchronized murder mode? You were cackling, bro. Like, full-body shaking. I thought someone was dying.”

KK looked up from her phone across the table. “Wait, what happened?”

“Yeah,” Ice chimed in, scooting her chair in closer. “You disappeared and came back grinning like the Grinch. Spill it.”

Paige tried to play it cool, slouching in her chair. “Nothing. Jace was just being Jace.”

“Ohhhh,” Ice said knowingly, dragging out the word like she already knew where this was headed. “Was he tryna talking to her?”

Paige didn’t respond fast enough. That was all the confirmation they needed.

Aubrey leaned forward, grinning. “So he was flirting again?”

“More like… delusional,” Paige muttered, picking at a tear in the knee of her jeans. “Said some dumb shit. Caroline shut him down first. I just followed her lead.”

“Followed her lead, my ass,” KK snorted. “Caroline’s probably still wheezing. What’d you say?”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smirk. “I told him he blends in with other mistakes.”

“OH MY GOD YOU LEGEND BUECKERS,” Ice shouted, slapping the table so hard the girl at the next table flinched so hard. “You did not!”

“I did,” Paige said proudly. “And before that? Caroline and I said the exact same insult at the exact same time.”

KK whistled. “You tag-teamed his ass.”

“Azzi looked like she was trying not to laugh,” Aubrey added with a sly glance. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

Paige’s expression tightened, but she played it off. “I mean, it was funny.”

Aubrey smirked. “It was you.”

Meanwhile, back at the booth in the far corner of the library, Jace was still planted at the edge of the table like he hadn’t just gotten cooked in front of half the library. But his smile was more forced now, his swagger cracked around the edges.

Caroline glanced at Azzi, who had gone quiet, eyes locked on her notes but clearly not seeing a damn thing.

“Can we go over that thing from earlier again?” Jace asked, sliding his chair an inch closer. “The part about… um, the coefficients?”

Azzi blinked and looked up. “We covered that ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention,” he said with a grin that he probably thought was charming.

Caroline groaned audibly. “You’re not supposed to admit that.”

Azzi forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay… so you take the coefficient—”

Jace wasn’t listening. He was watching her mouth, leaning in just a little too close.

Caroline noticed immediately. “You good, Az?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She tried to refocus, pointing at a formula. “So here, this number is distributed—”

“Damn, you must tutor a lot of people,” Jace interrupted, his voice lower now. “Bet you’ve got a line.”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

“Like, I get it,” he said, smirking. “Smart, cute, helpful. That’s a whole fantasy package.”

Azzi sat back slightly, her expression turning colder. “We’re studying. I’m tutoring you”

“I know,” Jace said, hands up like he was innocent. “I’m just saying, you’re probably breaking hearts all over campus.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Seriously, dude?”

“What?” he said, like he hadn’t just turned a tutoring session into a bad pickup attempt. “I’m just being friendly.”

Azzi looked down at her notebook, then slowly closed it.

Jace blinked. “Wait, are we done?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, her voice sharp but polite. “We’ve covered what we needed to, and you’re clearly not here to learn.”

Caroline crossed her arms with a smirk. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

Jace sat back, scoffing like he was the one being wronged. “Damn. You girls are cold.”

“No,” Azzi said, standing and sliding her bag onto her shoulder. “We’re just not here for you.”

Jace opened his mouth to say something else, but Caroline stood up too, cutting him off just by sheer vibe.

“You should probably go,” she said. “Before you embarrass yourself any harder.”

Jace muttered something under his breath, but grabbed his bag and stalked off, ego limping behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Azzi exhaled like she’d been holding it in.

“Fucking finally,” Caroline muttered. “I was 2 seconds away from pouring my water on him.”

Azzi laughed—tired, but real. “He just wouldn’t let up.”

“I know,” Caroline said, glancing toward the front of the table where Paige was at with Aubrey, KK and Ice. “And someone was definitely not chill about it.”

Azzi followed her gaze and frowned a little. “Paige?”

“Mhmmmm,” Caroline hummed. “You didn’t notice?”

Azzi looked away, lips pursed, thinking. “She was funny.”

“She’s always funny,” Caroline said. “But not always like that.”

Azzi didn’t say anything to that. She just zipped up her bag and shook her head, her expression unreadable.

Caroline didn’t push. But as they walked out of the library together, she tucked a knowing smirk into her back pocket for later.

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

[animamii]

Part deux to the Sweetheart Eren story ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

i didn't expect the junior year part to get that many comments on expanding lol it was just a follow up to some oneshots I wrote but y'all seem to like it. idk what to title this mini series tho lmfao help me come up with a name!

୨୧・・・୨♡୧・・・୨୧・・・・୨♡୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨♡୧・・ ・୨୧

The next day at school rolls around. You don't see Eren at all before class. Not the usual shouting of your name as he runs to catch up to you. You don't see him in the halls through the first few passing periods either, which is strange as hell. It's now break, and you're grabbing a yogurt bowl with Historia, Ymir, and Sasha.

You're mindlessly stirring the yogurt, the spoon scraping against the plastic bowl as you try to ignore the way your chest feels tight. Like it's not being constricted from any breath. It’s been over twelve hours since the encounter with Eren, and the silence between you two is deafening. It’s all you can think about—his words, his reaction, the way he stormed off, and the way he looked at you like he was trying to tell you something without actually saying it.

"Hey," Historia says, nudging you with her elbow as she grabs a piece of fruit from her bowl, "are you okay? You’ve been off all morning."

You glance up at her, offering a tight smile that definitely doesn't reach your somber eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Sasha, ever the curious one, leans in. "Come on, spill. What's going on with you and Yeager? You two haven't been this quiet around each other since... forever." Thinking back, you have never went this long without talking to Eren. Not even when you both caught a flu that made you both feel like you were on your death bed.

You shake your head. "It's nothing." But your friends know you better, it's always something.

Ymir, not missing a beat, raises an eyebrow. "Nothing? Really? 'Cause last time I checked, nothing doesn’t usually make you look like someone’s killed your cat then took a shit on your doorstep."

You laugh, but it’s hollow. "It’s just... Eren’s being weird."

"That’s one way to put it," Historia muses, having had a front row seat to the whole ordeal. "I mean, who else would storm off after overhearing a conversation with Floch of all people?"

"Right?" Ymir agrees, oblivious to your growing discomfort. "It was like watching a soap opera, but with more muscle and even more drama."

You try to shrug it off, but the frustration is still there, gnawing at you. Eren’s been distant, avoiding you like you have some contagious disease, and it hurts more than you want to admit. But you can’t—you won’t—chase after him. You’ve always been the one to wait, to hold back, while Eren does whatever it is that makes him happy. But this? It’s different. And you hate how much it’s making you doubt everything.

That's when he walks in, hood over his head and hands in the pockets. You feel your heart do that stupid flip in your chest when you spot Eren entering the cafeteria. Your eyes widen and maybe soften a bit as this is the first time you're seeing him all day. It's almost like you missed him, but with the way things are between you two, you know you shouldn't.

The space seems to widen around him as you watch him walk in, his usual confidence replaced by a strange, subtle hesitation. He keeps his head down, his hoodie pulled low over his face like he’s trying to hide, but you can still make out the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his shoulders tense under the fabric.

You want to look away. You want to pretend like seeing him doesn’t affect you, like you’re not aware of every tiny movement he makes. But you can’t. It’s like gravity itself is pulling your attention toward him.

Sasha notices the way your gaze lingers, and she nudges you again, her voice low. "There he is. The man of the hour."

You blink, quickly looking away, but the heat rising in your face betrays you. "Don’t make it a big deal," you mutter, but you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

"Uh huh," Ymir deadpans, clearly not buying it. "We’ll just act like you didn’t look at him like he’s the last Dr. Pepper hidden in the back of the fridge."

Before you can shoot her a sharp response, Eren’s eyes flicker over to your table. The briefest flicker of recognition passes between you two, and for a second, everything feels suspended—like time’s dragging on just to torment you.

You watch as his lips press into a thin line, his gaze dropping almost immediately, like he’s too embarrassed to face you. He looks away, scanning the room, and that’s when he notices Floch sitting across the room with a few other guys, laughing loudly. Eren’s posture stiffens, the slight tension in his neck almost like he’s trying to hold himself together. He avoids looking at you completely after that, walking past the table with his head down. You can feel the weight of the silence. His absence is more obvious than his presence now, and it's suffocating. But at the same time feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs.

Sasha, who has been watching the whole thing unfold like it's dinner and a show, leans in again, voice teasing. "Okay, that was... something."

"Shut up," you murmur, taking another spoonful of yogurt, your focus completely shattered. You can't ignore the unease building in your chest. The way he avoided you, the way he looked at you like he was keeping a secret, and the way he moved like you didn’t even exist anymore… It hurts more than it should.

Historia, who’s been quietly observing, gives you a gentle brush to your shoulder. "y/n, do you want to talk about it? You know you can tell us."

You look up, your chest tightening even more. The idea of talking about Eren, of trying to sort out your feelings when even he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on, feels like too much. But you can’t hold it in forever.

Before you can answer, Ymir pipes up with a half-smirk, “If he’s really being this weird, then it’s only a matter of time before he either apologizes or gets dragged back into a scene by someone.” You don't seem to notice the way her hazel eyes flit to Floch, you're too preoccupied with the image of Eren looking at you with that look.

You can’t tell if she means it seriously or not, but it stirs something inside of you. Could Eren actually come around? Would he apologize? But just as you’re about to respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of break. You barely get a chance to say anything before the crowd around you starts moving, and the usual rush of students makes everything feel more chaotic.

As you gather your things and start heading toward class with your friends, you can’t help but look back at Eren. He’s standing by the door, talking to Floch, his posture stiff and closed off. And despite everything, despite the confusion, you want to make things right. But it’s so hard when you don’t know how.

₊˚⊹♡

Eren’s steps are heavy, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd of students loitering between classes. He can feel the unease building in his chest, and it has nothing to do with schoolwork or practice. His focus is entirely on Floch—on that idiot who’s been flirting with you.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen it before. Floch’s attention is always on someone new, a new target to charm, to flirt with, to toy around with for a little while. But something about the way he zeroed in on you yesterday... it’s been gnawing at Eren ever since. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.

He doesn’t like the way Floch’s voice gets all smooth and condescending when he talks to you, or how that smug look never seems to leave his face, as if he even deserves to talk to you like that in the first place. As if he deserves to talk to you at all. Eren can’t stand it. He hates that Floch thinks he can just walk in and take something he doesn’t deserve. And he especially hates how you don’t seem to mind it. Hell, you even smiled at him. Eren’s blood boils just thinking about it.

So when Floch spots him in the hallway, leaning casually against a locker giving him a cocky ass look, Eren doesn’t waste any time. He strides over, muscles tense, eyes narrowing as he approaches. Floch looks up from his phone, his expression nonchalant at first. Then it breaks into that annoying smirk.

"Well, well," Floch says, his tone all teasing. "If it isn’t the mighty Eren Yeager."

Eren doesn’t reply at first, just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. He’s not sure what to say, but the irritation surges within him. How dare he flirt with you like that? How dare he try to pull you away from everything you’ve always known? How dare he try to pull you away from him?

“Listen, Floch,” Eren growls, resentment evident in his tone, “stay away from her.” He doesn't even need to say your name for Floch to know just who he's talking about.

Floch raises an eyebrow, leaning in just a bit, as if savoring the tension in the air. "Oh? And why’s that? You jealous, Yeager?"

Eren’s teeth grit. "I don’t care what you do with anyone else. But don’t try anything with y/n. Got it?" Never in his life had Eren gotten so visibly upset.

Floch laughs, clearly entertained. "You’ve got it bad, huh? You’re cute when you’re possessive." He steps closer, eyes glinting with amusement. "You’ve been staring at her for years, but you never do anything. So maybe I should."

Eren’s chest tightens, heart thumping rapidly as he feels that surge of angered adrenaline enter his bloodstream. He feels like he’s about to snap. His hands twitch at his sides, itching for something—anything—to channel this rage into. "I’m not kidding, Floch. Stay away from her," Eren repeats, voice almost shaking with restraint. Eren had never been one for needless violence, always trying to be a mediator like his mother had taught him. But the way Floch was talking to him—the way he was talking about you—made him want to knock his ass out.

But Floch just shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his face. "You know, Yeager, you’re not really the type to say what you feel, are you? So go ahead. Keep being ‘the good friend.’ But maybe, just maybe, she’ll want someone who actually shows up."

With that, Floch gives Eren one last, infuriating look before walking off, leaving Eren standing there, his body still tense and his mind racing. Every word, every taunt from Floch, is like a slap in the face, and Eren knows he’s pushed to the limit now. This thing with you and Floch? It’s not over. And neither is what Eren feels. But the thought of it—it’s making him feel more lost than ever.

₊˚⊹♡

Eren doesn’t make it far before Historia and Ymir find him. It’s after lunch, and he’s been doing everything possible to keep to himself—hood up, headphones in, avoiding eye contact. Ignoring everyone and everything. But he should’ve known better.

"Yeager." The sharp call of his name makes his shoulders tense. Before he can turn, Ymir yanks his hood down, forcing him to face them. Historia stands beside her, arms crossed, looking far less aggressive but just as confrontational. Ohhhh he was in trouble now.

"Seriously?" Ymir scoffs, letting go of his hood with a dramatic drop. "You're really out here sulking like some kicked puppy?"

Eren rolls his eyes and pulls his hood back up. "Not in the mood, Ymir."

"Yeah? Well, neither is y/n," Historia says, tone serious but concerned. "She thinks you’re mad at her."

For a split second his eyes slightly widen, heart dropping. He never wants you to think he's mad at you. But then that image of you smiling at Floch floods his vision. It makes Eren’s jaw tighten, makes his chest swell with unnamed envy. He keeps his eyes down, but the weight in his chest only gets heavier at that.

Historia steps forward, voice softer but firm. "You’ve been avoiding her all day. Do you even realize how shitty that is?" Her blonde brows raise up, she can't help but be upset for you, one of her closest friends.

"I’m not avoiding her," Eren mutters, eyes looking everywhere but the two girls that stand before him. He knows just how well the couple can read him just by looking at him.

"Bullshit," Ymir deadpans, trying to look Eren in his shifty eyes. "You’ve been glued to her side since forever, and now suddenly you're a ghost? You expect her not to notice?"

Eren exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not mad at her," he says, but the frustration in his voice betrays him, that slight crack to his words.

Ymir lifts an eyebrow. "Then what’s your problem? ‘Cause from where I was standing, you looked ready to rip Floch’s head off when he was flirting with her yesterday."

Eren bristles instantly, eyes going wide. "That’s not—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "Floch’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t actually care about her."

Historia narrows her eyes at him like a disappointed mom. "And you do?" Eren swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing.

Ymir crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side as she tries to make him crack under her gaze. "Yeah, ‘cause here’s the thing—you can’t stand the guy on a normal day, you don't even acknowledge the kid, but the second he pays some mind to y/n, you lose your shit?"

Eren clenches his fists, the memory of Floch flirting with you replaying in his mind. "You don’t get it," he mutters through gritted teeth.

"Then make us get it," Historia pushes, her voice forming into something somewhat sympathetic. "Because right now, it just looks like you’re mad some other guy gave her attention."

Eren scoffs, shaking his head. "You really think that’s all it is?"

Ymir shrugs. "I don’t know, isn’t it?"

Eren’s jaw flexes. His throat feels tight, words pressing against his teeth, stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Floch doesn’t give a damn about her. He just wants what he thinks he can have." His voice lowers, more intense. "He’s not interested in her—not the way he should be."

Ymir catches it first. Her smirk is slow, knowing but she tries to hide it. "Ohhh," she drawls. "And how should he be interested in her, Yeager?"

Eren freezes. Shit. Historia stares at him too, watching, waiting, like she knows something too. Like they know they finally caught him up in his web of complicated feelings.

"Forget it," Eren mutters, turning away. His heartbeat turns shallow, quick and anxious as he stumbles over his thoughts. He wants to run, to get away from his friends. Honestly, he wants to run off the face of the earth.

"Oh, no way," Ymir steps in front of him, blocking his exit. "You do not get to say that and then walk off. If you’ve got something to say about how y/n should be treated, say it."

Eren exhales sharply, looking up at the sky like he��s begging for patience. Or begging for God to strike him down. More so the latter because it would be easier than explaining his feelings for you.

"She’s not—" He stops, pressing his lips together before trying again. "She deserves better than that. Better than some asshole who just wants a quick hookup. Better than—than a guy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing." His voice drops, almost like he’s talking more to himself now. "Better than me."

There it is.

The slip-up.

The confession that isn’t quite a confession.

Ymir’s smirk is full-fledged now, while Historia’s lips part slightly like she’s piecing something together. Comprehending his cryptic confession. Eren realizes it too late. His whole body goes stiff, regret flashing in his eyes. He finally opened that can of worms that was the flurry of feelings he harbored for you.

Ymir tilts her head again, more smug this time. "Huh. So you do like her." It had always been the most obvious thing in the world to her, to everyone, but Eren had finally, after all of these years, somewhat admitted his feelings for you.

Eren’s head snaps toward her in a shaky, nervous manner. "I never said that."

"But you didn’t deny it," Historia points out, holding a finger up to him. She's smiling, squealing on the inside. She just wants to run to you to tell you what she just heard. But she keeps her cool, acting nonchalant.

Eren scowls, puffing out some air. "You’re both annoying as hell."

Ymir just grins like a giddy child who knows something they shouldn't. "You’re in love with her."

Eren’s heartbeat stutters. His face visibly heats up. "Shut up."

"Oh, this is good," Ymir muses. "So let me get this straight. You’re jealous as hell but won’t do anything about it. You’re avoiding y/n because you don’t wanna deal with your feelings. And now you’re just hoping she magically won’t notice?"

Eren clenches his teeth so hard it almost hurts. "I don’t like her like that," he insists, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He couldn't stay in denial any longer. Not after he essentially had admitted it to your closest friends.

"Uh huh." Ymir gives him a slow once-over. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, big guy."

Historia shakes her head, exasperated. "Look, whatever you feel—or don’t feel—just stop making y/n feel like she did something wrong. Because if you keep pushing her away, she’s gonna think you don’t care at all." Historia looks up at Eren with wide eyes, trying to convey just how important it is for him to do this. For both him and you.

That hits something deep in Eren’s chest. Racks him with guilt. The thought of you thinking he doesn’t care? That’s not—That’s not how this was supposed to go. It makes his stomach churn.

Ymir steps closer, voice dropping as she puts her hands on her hips. "And if you keep dragging this out? Someone else is gonna ask her out." She leans in, her eyes something serious. "You ready for that?"

Eren doesn’t answer.

Because the truth is—he already knows the answer.

And it scares the hell out of him.

[goooofy-goooober1121]

TWST Boys And Their Love Languages

It’s late and I can’t sleep so onto headcanons I go!!! These are pretty general because love languages are for everyone, not just romantic interests :P

My ask box is open!!! Pls pls pls request!! (Just read my guidelines first!!!)

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

- Acts of Service

- Riddle grew up in a shitty household

- I wrote a lot about it here but his experiences with his mother in short left him emotionally stunted

- Therefore I don’t imagine words or open expressions of affection to be easy for him

- Also I believe that the way he was raised greatly impacted his idea of what love— in any form— should be

- Riddle was only ever shown warmth and affection when his actions reflected positively — this made him see affection as only ever expressed/earned through actions, not words or anything else

- I’d imagine that ingrained itself in him very deeply

- Also there’s this one part where at the start of Book 2 he straighten’s MC’s tie and I imagine that’s how he shows he cares for someone (post Overblot at least)

- Quiet moments where he does something that shows he’s paying attention to whoever he’s focusing on

Trey Clover

- Trey tends to take a lot of responsibility for his loved ones

- We see it a lot in Riddle’s overblot, where he laments that he should have done something to stop him or help him before it was too late (it was something like that, forgive me if I’m a little off lol but I’m pretty sure he felt guilt for being unable to help him despite having kept an eye on him for so long)

- This leads me to believe that his love language is expressed through either quality time or acts of service

- Quality Time because he just comes off as the type of dude to enjoy being around those he cares for and sees it as a moment in itself, whether it be at unbirthday parties or just baking something with others

- Acts of Service because like… everything in his character says so?? He spent so long taking care of Riddle (even if it was from a distance)— he definitely feels like responsibility for others is a way of support/affection and service is how he expresses that value

Cater Diamond

- Words of Affirmation!!!

- Sure he’ll say it like he’s reading out an Instagram caption

- but I can for sure see words as his primary love language!!!

- throughout the game we for sure see him to be very affectionate with his words

- but then we also think about what’s underneath him being all cheery and stuff and I think that he may also appreciate Quality Time

- I think he would find appreciation in moments of silence or just times where he gets to spend time with people

- but he won’t be very vulnerable if it’s someone he doesn’t know or trust all that well

Ace Trappola

- Are petty insults a love language

- I feel like he’s a dick but like in an affectionate way

- I mean if I had to choose a serious one tho…

- we know that Ace for sure has a strong sense of justice

- Even if sometimes not for himself but for others

- Like he skipped out on the MC in the prologue but also stood up to Riddle both on his own behalf and the behalf of his dorm mates

- But I also get the impression that Ace really doesn’t like to be alone?

- Like how often do we see him hanging out by himself? I feel like whenever he pops up in the story he’s either with someone or on his way to come see the MC

- Therefore he comes off to me like a Physical Touch/Quality Time type of guy

Deuce Spade (Spoilers for Book 6)

- I’m basing this off the interactions he had with Epel when Epel earned his signature spell

- Idk I feel like Deuce was mad supportive like yasss Words of Affirmation!!!

- He’s also just always been a hype man lowkey

- plus I’m putting Acts of Service for him because he devotes a lot of time to acting better than he was to show his love and appreciation for his mom

- Pro tip: if he treats his mom right he’ll treat you right

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

- Physical touch and Quality Time

- Leona’s a pretty closed off guy, so I wouldn’t say that he would so openly express himself with words

- But I don’t doubt that he shows others that he cares for them by hanging around them all quiet like

- Don’t mention it to him he’ll get pissy at you for pointing it out

- BUT

- here’s where we get to look into lion patterns

- a lion’s main form of expressing affection is through mutual grooming, cuddling, and resting together!

- therefore… me personally…. I think he’s a cuddle bug at heart

Ruggie Bucchi

- Now I could say Acts of Service for him but not for the reasons you think

- I know that a lot of people would say “oh duh because he does everything for Leona”

- And it’s true that a lot of Ruggie’s actions are done because he’s getting something out of it (as seen with his relationship with Leona)

- But love of any kind should not be transactional. If it is transactional, then it isn’t love. That’s just a pattern of behavior

- That being said if we look at his backstories we see that he’s big on taking care of the kids in his neighborhood + his grandma

- So that’s why I’ll give him Acts of Service

- If we want to add a factor congruent with his beastman side, this also sort of makes sense

- Hyenas tend to be more submissive towards their possible mates so if he were to be crushing on someone I’d see it as him doing things for them consistently and then retreating to his own little bubble like nothing happened

- Male hyenas do tend to have this ‘approach-avoid’ style of behavior where they’ll get close/do things to show interest in their mate and then back off so

- Blud would sprint out of there in an instant

Jack Howl

- Another strong/silent type

- we do see that he gets pretty outspoken with words when he’s passionate but he’s also see he’s pretty shy with his vocabulary

- and he also has that whole tough guy thing going on where he acts like he doesn’t gaf (he really really really gaf)

- Wolves on an instinctual level show affection by licking and grooming each other

- But obviously he’s not just a wolf lol

- I’m thinkiiiiiing Quality Time primarily then!! Maybe a dash of Physical Touch

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

- Entrapment

- lol jk (unless?)

- No but seriously. His love language would be gift giving

- I was reading the vignette for his Maquillaville card (idk if I spelled that right) and he had this whole thing where he wanted to choose this antique tea set because he knew it would be a high quality item to provide for his customers

- I believe it would be the same for those he cared about

- And I believe he would also like to show off his success and what he’s earned (it’s an ego thing let him have his moment) especially after all the bullying he endured as a kid

- even if he might be a little stingy

Jade Leech

- Acts of Service

- Like idk he just has the vibes

- He usually looks after Floyd iirc

- and often times is regarded as the more responsible one

- I just think Acts of Service fits him very well

- Even if he’s just as unhinged as Floyd is

Floyd Leech

- Physical touch

- Listen bro he really likes to squeeze

- I think physical touch is a major love language for him, especially with his frequent mood swings

- as someone who also experiences emotions very powerfully sometimes it’s easier to find comfort in touch rather than anything else

- but if he’s in a good mood I think quality time would be pretty valid too!

- would probably drag you along with him to be silly (that means anything from acting stupid or committing several crimes)

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

- Ohhhh boy do I have a bit to say about this

- we could really easily say gift giving and move on cause he’s a rich boy

- but that would be ignoring his actual character lol

- even if he definitely is a fan of giving gifts

- I wrote a little drabble about it here

- Because let’s think about it— Kalim was super sheltered! His only friend was literally Jamil. Like he knew that he could never trust just anyone and was made to accept it all

- Which is why I think the reason he’s so enamored with parties is because he gets to be around people and feel like he’s part of something

- Leading me to believe that at his core, Kalim’s greatest love language is Quality Time

- oh and also physical touch don’t ask why he just has the vibes

Jamil Viper

- Again we could say ‘acts of service’ and move on

- But like is that fair to his character?

- Like Riddle, Jamil was sort of conditioned into a specific way of showing care (even if in Jamil’s case it isn’t genuine) through acts of service

- I can’t help but wonder where that fabricated expression ends and where the real thing begins

- I recall somewhere that his dream, if he were not trapped in servitude, would be to travel the world and study ruins

- And I think that would pair nicely with Quality Time as his love language

- I think that if he were to be close to someone it wouldn’t really be conducive to show his affections through acts of service— especially since most of his exhibitions of this trait are portrayed mostly as obligations rather than nature to him

- So I think that being able to spend time with them instead would be more enjoyable for him

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

- I think he’s between Words of Affirmation and Quality Time

- We see that he minces no words at all ever

- I think that if he truly cared for someone he would definitely show it through what he says

- Again in his Maquillaville event, I remember him bringing up that him and his dad have designated days to spend time together so they don’t grow apart

- side note that’s really sweet

- anyways

- Since he is so busy being an actor/influencer/housewarden, Quality Time would be a very important love language to him

Rook Hunt

- Stalking.

- oh and Acts of Service I guess

- Rook does things for others when he finds them worth acting for

- therefore he most definitely shows his affection through his actions

- and of course words of affirmation

- he also doesn’t hold back on expressing verbally how much he cares/admires someone so like

- careful he might build a shrine of you

Epel Felmier

- Acts of Service

- Like Ace he has a strong sense of justice

- And he really really wants to prove himself on his own terms

- therefore I think Acts of Service would be best fitted, along with Gift Giving

- like how when someone (I don’t remember who) complimented his apple carving, he was like “oh but I can make you one!!! I can teach you!!!”

- also him bringing all the great stuff from his hometown during the VDC arc

- simply makes sense

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

- He calls you his kitten

- /hj

- I think with Idia he’s pretty shy. So Words of Affirmation might not work with him

- And gift giving may not be super in character for him

- Also he never leaves his room so tf kind of acts of service is he giving anyone?

- If anything I would say Quality Time (he’s in the board game club, so hanging out with people is at least somewhat enjoyable for him + he has Ortho to be near him all the time)

- but I’m 50/50 on physical touch. I feel like he’d either love it or hate it

- Maybe he’s like a cat? Only likes to be touched when he decides he will like to be touched at the moment

Ortho Shroud (strictly platonic)

- Acts of Service

- Hello??? I read this one vignette and two guys insulted Idia in it

- you know what he did???

- HE SHOT A LASER BEAM AT THEM

- AND GOT SAD THAT HE MISSED

- Ortho’s a real one

- No. 1 ride or die

- Definitely an Acts of Service dude

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

- Malleus knows his loved ones will fade away before he does

- Even if it doesn’t fully set in for him until Book 7

- therefore I think he’s Quality Time.

- don’t get me wrong, he would raze entire kingdoms for the people he loves

- but I think that after being lonely for so long and on top of that understanding that everyone he loves doesn’t have as much time as he does, I think he’d want to spend as much time as possible beside them

Lilia Vanrouge (Book 7 Spoilers)

- He’s an old man

- he knows a lot of things

- he’s seen a lot of things

- I think that his style is Acts of Service (he’s willing to do anything, like how he promises he’ll protect Malleus for Maleanora before she died)

- and like Malleus, Quality Time

- he knows he has more time than his human son but less time than his fae son

- so he wants to be around as much as he can before he retreats and lives the rest of his days out by himself

Silver Vanrouge

- I think he most definitely is a physical touch type of guy

- literally there is no other way to describe it than narcolepsy, and that takes away a lot of experiences with loved ones

- therefore I think his love language is Physical Touch because it’s kinda like something you can always do, even when you’re asleep

- I love him :(

Sebek Zigvolt

- yelling

- jk acts of service

- another shy guy

- I think he prefers to show affection through actions

- we see it a lot with how he acts around Malleus

- very devoted

[chaotic-fandom-hoarder]

I’m sure somebody else has already went over this, but like. It kinda just clicked for me five minutes ago.

Act 6 spoilers btw!!!

Since Siffrin has a sadness (Mal Du Pays), I kinda started to think about what Loop’s sadness might look like, cause if Sif has one, then Loop must! And so then I was looking at canonical sadnesses and realized that Loop already has one.

Loop’s sadness is Nostalgie, French for “Longing”.

It makes sense too! Nostalgia, taken from the word nostalgie, is a word for wanting something from the past, often referring to a time that you can never get back, and doesn’t that sum up Loop pretty well? Wanting the friends (family) that they used to have, their new complete lack of identity as anything other than “helpful Loop, your guide through the loops” making them know that they can never go back to how they were before that second wish?

And also, alongside the head shape looking similar to Loop, it makes a few things make more sense. For starters, the Nostalgies are always the ones with the star crests. I don’t know what that has to do with them removing the Tears, but also of course the sadnesses from the star person would have the thing with a star motif!

And then the big thing that made it click for me: Bonnie says that the Nostalgies smell sugary.

What’s another thing that we know smells sugary?

Wish Craft.

Wish Craft caused Loop to become a star, Wish Craft dropped them in a timeline to help another Siffrin get the happy wnding Loop couldn’t have, Wish Craft was the thing that caused the time loops to happen in the first place! Of course the manifestation of Loop’s grief would smell like Wish Craft!!!

Side tangent: If I’m remembering correctly, Bonnie never says it smells like burnt sugar, just sugar. I have a theory that Wish Craft alone smells like sugar, but it’s specifically Wish Craft that gives the user Time Craft that smells like burnt sugar. Maybe Time Craft alone just makes a strong burning smell because it’s too powerful to use without killing the user, and maybe the burning sugar smell is because the Time Craft is using the Wish Craft as fuel instead of the energy of the person using it? Idk

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

hoax- r.c. x reader*

synopsis (?): you always thought the worst things in life were the actions of the living, yet the one person you loved and hurt you the most, was not.

warnings: this depression, implied suicide, death, resentment of the dead. i think this is heavy though i tried to tone it down a bit. if it’s too triggering just click out, please. take care of yourself. i didn’t want to post this at first but thought that maybe it could help someone in a way (?) idk maybe it doesn’t or maybe that someone is me. would be nice for a change. anyway, enough trauma dumping lol <3

*one shot

𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼

the sand beneath your fingertips bore a peculiar resemblance to the amount of pain you felt. though you suspected that if it were to come between your pain and every grain, the former would leave with the grand prize.

and for every rain drop in your face, the lakes beneath you became more bitter than sweet.

for a moment you could believe that the weather was nothing more than a mirage of your most inner self. the waves only reflecting a smaller portion of the rage, disbelief, and confusion beneath the surface.

when sarah said that rafe was gone, you didn’t believe her. at first you thought it was a joke— a sick one— but a joke nonetheless. but then, she handed you a letter with your name scribbled in his messy handwriting.

because it hadn’t been a tragic accident, or an extreme sport gone wrong. no.

it had been murder, except it was done by the one person you could never, ever question. at least not in this life.

he was gone.

there was no way to accuse him of such a heinous crime, no way to look for evidence to lock him behind bars, and most definitely, no family or lover pleading for justice.

it wasn’t like you could sentence the dead.

the letter was now barely legible from the water stains threaded deep into the ink and the so called remorse they painted. but it didn’t matter, because if there was one thing you would remember until the day that you died, it would be the cruel phrases that only a wretched piece of paper could hold.

it was funny how humans call themselves the most advanced species and only a single spoken word could shatter them into a million pieces, yet a piece of paper that came from a tree that once lived was somehow stronger than the gods themselves. or maybe that was the entire point, the dead cannot feel, not anymore.

the tide kissed your feet seductively in a means to distract you from what it really wanted. to take the final piece of him you still held. maybe the sea wasn’t a part of you after all, maybe it was a part of him.

you held your knees to your chest, with your hands reaching for the paper below holding it tighter each time it was drifting away.

you closed your eyes tightly, locking away the salt water that was threatening to spill against your will.

you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

you took deep breaths so as to not drown yourself in sorrow. the rain was doing it effortlessly anyway, she didn’t need your help.

𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼

my love,

if there is anything about you that i adore the most, it is the way you love. if you’re reading this, it means i’m gone. we both knew it would happen one day, only we didn’t want to see it.

i guess denial was our worst rival, time our worst enemy. we were foolish to believe that we could make it, but for a moment it was the only thing that pieced and held us together.

your tenacity is one for the books and for that, i am forever grateful. you gave me hope when i otherwise would have held on to my quiet resentment. because of you, i knew and understood what real love is. you made me a better person for however long you were with me. i just wish i had found you sooner, before it was too late. but there is no point in regret, is there? i know i am was not an easy person to love and for that i admire you. you, a stranger, chose to believe in me, to love me. you had no obligation to do so, yet the ones that did only turned their backs on me. or maybe that is where i am wrong. nobody owes us love.

i am sorry for the things that i said. for the things that i did that affected you both directly and indirectly. i never meant to hurt you, not now not ever. just know that this is not your fault, i had long decided before you came along. you just gave me a glimpse of what i could’ve been. if life had been different, i could have been the man you deserve. and for a moment i tried. i really did. yet sometimes good intentions are not enough. what i said that day by the beach was not meant for you, it was meant for me. i simply projected my self hatred onto you and for that i loath myself and will regret for the rest of my short life, possibly for the rest of eternity, long after i am gone.

i do love you. i always have and always will. only now i want you to be free to have happiness without my chains tying you down. i could no longer be selfish. we both know i just did everyone a favor. the entirety of the people around us despised me and with good measure. i could not take you down with me. you deserve a free man, without sins burning through his every breath. you deserve the purest of loves, a family and friends that love you unconditionally.

i was only a barrier to that. you’ll find someone, i am not the one. you might hate me now and possibly forever, but in the end it is for the better. thank you, angel. i love you more than the entirety of the universe, than the deepest of the oceans, than all of the words in all of the books in the world combined. it is useless to try to measure my love for you, even the word ‘love’ pales in comparison to what my cruel heart could hold.

just promise me that you will live a happy life. live for the both of us, for the person i could’ve been, and the person i became with you. trust me when i say i met happiness because of you. you are my happiness.

you’re the love and the loss of my life. i am sure that the devil himself will punish me for the pain i have caused you and others. just know that i would have married you and grown old together had i been different. maybe, just maybe, i will meet you in another life and correct every mistake i have made in this one. especially the wrongs i did to you.

i love you, i’m sorry.

yours forever, rafe

𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼

the tide once again caressed you, finally getting what she wanted. you got up to chase it but it only slipped from your fingers, the ocean taking every last remnant of your heart away.

“no! no, please. no.” you fell to your knees, the scream you’d had lodged in your throat finally breaking free. your sobs now finding their way out without restrictions.

you lied on the ground for who knows how long in hopes that maybe the ocean would take you too. only she didn’t. nobody wanted you, you didn’t even want yourself.

the sky began to clear, the waves began to calm, the wind began to slow until everything was still. the storm was now inside you so the rest could continue to live in the paradise on earth.

more like hell on earth.

tragedy was all that lurked here, you doubted that was what constituted paradise.

i should hate you but your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in.

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart.

but what you did was just as dark.

the sky was no longer grey and you hated it.

don’t want no other shade of blue but you no other sadness in the world would do

“y/n?” you jerked awake at the sound of your name. your heart beating faster in fear or excitement. maybe both but you couldn’t tell.

“rafe?”

𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 𓏲 𓆉 .₊‧˚𓇼 possibly my worst story yet lol

can you tell i was listening to taylor and gracie? anyway, the ending is your choice whether she’s dreaming, hallucinating, or dead. or maybe none of the above, idfk.

xx

[dreamingofaizawa]

Violent Tendencies - Price

Sheriff! John Price x AFAB! Fem! Reader

~Small Town AU~

Warnings: Love at first fight?, descriptions of blood and injuries, allusions to physical abuse (past), John finds you hot in the strangest ways (does he have a thing for violence? idk, maybe it's just you), two suggestive lines

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: Fuck me sideways. That's all I've got, I'm hyperfixating on this stupid AU

Part One Here - Part Five Here

ENJOY!

***

“Oh come on, live a little! It won’t hurt ya to get in bed with a bonnie lass.” Johnny’s drunk. Too damn drunk, if you asked John Price. It’s probably the fifth time the scot’s brought up Price’s dating life, or complete lack thereof. He’s already dragged three poor random girls from around the little bar to try to get him to take one home. He’s getting real sick of his antics.

“Johnny, if you don’t fuck right off, I’m firing you. No more Deputy MacTavish.” He only smiles, drunk and leaning over in the booth the five of them are tucked into. 

“Can you blame him, John? We can’t expect you to stay single forever. Get yourself a girlfriend, at least.” Laswell’s not nearly as drunk as she should be. If she weren’t coherent he wouldn’t have to hear this shit from her of all people.

“I’ve got a woman. Now drop it.” It feels like the whole goddamned bar goes quiet at that. 

“Fuckin’ spill, Price, or I’m starting a bar fight in here and it won’t fuckin’ end pretty.” Now Simon being invested in the whole thing was something he didn’t expect at all. Kyle’s watching, silently, from his corner. He’s also probably drunk. 

“Fine. But we don’t talk about it until you’re all sobered up tomorrow. I don’t want to have to explain it all over again when you don’t remember shit.” That is what’s agreed upon. And so the very next morning, he’s cornered by his three deputies and Kate Laswell. Kyle, for one, is very amused at the whole predicament.

“I think it’s poetic. Romantic, even. Fell in love with a girl in juvie of all places, after getting into a brawl with her, and he’s so fuckin’ whipped for her he can’t imagine ever loving another woman.” 

“Seven years ago? That’s an awful long time to be waitin’, Price. You sure the lass is still gonna be single by the time you find her?” Johnny’s words sent a spike of rage and fear through his heart. What if you never loved him like he loved you? What if you were just tolerating him? What if you found someone already? He tries not to spiral, tries to keep himself cool. It’s none of his business, no matter how far gone he is.

“So you lied, then? You don’t really have a woman. She ain’t yours yet.” Simon’s right. But he hangs onto the yet. He’ll find you, and he’s sure that when he does he’ll try his damndest to make you his. “You gonna fight her again?” 

“No. Absolutely fuckin’ not.” He’d made up his mind after that first fight. It’s the only fight you’ll ever have. After he’d had time to cool down in the infirmary, even if he found you covered in blood insanely attractive, he saw too much of his father in the mirror. You looked happy, getting into a fight like that, but he can’t get the image of his mother begging for a respite out of his head. He decided then that he’d never lay another hand on you for as long as he lives, not unless it was a spar to help you hone your skills. Even then, he’d never hurt you.

He tells them stories when they ask. He tells them about the way his Tempest was always ready for a fight. He regales them with the way you pummeled a guy that tried to corner you in the bathroom to try and get his dick wet. He recalls the time you’d smashed a guy’s skull against the nearest wall when he’d shoved a girl to the ground for something or other. It’s all vivid in his memory, when he recalls the way you bled all over the punching bag. Your knuckles are scarred to hell and back, you never gave them any real time to heal once you got that sling off. He distinctly remembers, however, that you wrapped them up once he’d told you to. Still hit the bag, but you wore wraps, however flimsy they were. 

It’s his favorite thing to do, really, remember all the shit you’d done, the squabbles you’d finished. The two of you had a wicked reputation in that little hall, and only a month after your collar healed you were avoided like the plague. Back then, watching the way people started to give you a wide berth, he wondered if that’s what it looked like for him when he got in.

“Let me guess, you were her only friend.” Kyle deadpans, like he knows what comes next, muttering something about a classic romcom trope.

“Almost. Her roomie liked her, after she pummeled the girl that tried to strangle her for something.” He thinks you looked the best when you were beating someone to a pulp. How you looked hitting the bag was a close second. Thinking about you like this makes his heart ache, but he falls so much farther in love. The image of you is imprinted so profoundly in his mind he’d recognize you instantly. 

And he does. 

“It’s wonderful to have you here, John. You and your deputies are gonna do a whole lot of good for this town. Everyone, welcome your new sheriff.” The man has just finished his retirement speech in front of the town hall, welcoming Price to the little podium at the front. He’s got an entire speech prepared about wanting to help keep the place in order, how he’s happy to be welcomed even though he didn’t grow up here, how he’s ready for the change of pace from the big city he’s used to. 

It all catches in his throat when he sweeps his gaze over the crowd and spots you. Your eyes lock, and he knows you recognize him, the way you don’t even blink, wide-eyed and barely breathing. The former sheriff’s hand is on his shoulder, and it snaps him out of his daze. You don’t move, don’t leave, just sit with the rest of the town and watch. His skin feels like it’s on fire, burning with the urge to run over to you and kiss you until you both pass out. He barrels through the rest of his speech. When it’s all done and dusted, and he goes to look for you, you’re gone. Back in the station, Kyle notices something’s off.

“Your leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since we got back an hour ago.” He stops the limb, briefly flicking his eyes over to Kyle before looking pointedly away. “Don’t ignore me, damnit. What’s got you wound up?” The other two perk up from their spots around the little station. The eyes on him make his skin itch. 

“She’s here.” It got so damn quiet a pin could be heard hitting the tiled floor.

“No fuckin’ way. Tempest? Your Tempest?” He nods, and the questions are flying. How does he know? When did he find out? What’s her name? Where is she right now? He only knows the answer to one of those questions, and he refuses to tell them anything on principle. He decides you must have run off for a reason. If you don’t want to see him that bad, if all you’re going to do is avoid him, then he’ll let you. That being the case, the last thing you needed were his three deputies snooping around your business.

You’re like a little spirit, running around barely in his sight for two long years. He’s seen you briefly, walking to or from the diner he frequents in one of the uniforms, but he’s never seen you there. You must work all the hours he isn’t there. There’s a glimpse of you every other week in the grocer, or at the market, or in the one hardware shop in town. He never approaches you. Deep down, he’s afraid of the rejection. It’s been nearly ten years since you shared a space in the juvenile hall to the north. There’s every possibility that you’ve grown to hate the time you spent there, and grown to hate him.

But then he spots you, being verbally assaulted by the town’s resident asshole who coincidentally also happens to be your boss, and he can’t find it in himself to care if you hate him or not. You’re not gonna just take that shit, not with him around, not when the scene looks eerily similar to one he’d witnessed in his own home.

In a way, he owes Graves. It’s the first time he’d spoken to you in a decade, and he’s falling in love with you all over again. You’re different, sure, but it’s not bad. He’s different too. If you both remained the same after ten years, it’d be some kind of weird twisted miracle.

The nights he spends in your diner have his blood warming. He feels a little guilty about the way he can’t take his eyes off of you, even when you’re not looking at him. He feels a little like a creep. But he just can’t help himself, observing you as you work diligently for the little diner. When you reach up onto a high shelf he locks onto the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up, the softness of your waist he desperately wants to feel beneath his fingertips. The scarring on your knuckles are faded, and the skin looks like it hasn’t seen a fight in years. You’re softer overall, too, your face rounder and body plumper, the muscle mass you used to tow around gone. He scolds himself for eyeing your thighs, the way they swell when you crouch or sit or kneel, mentally slaps himself for wanting to live between them. He still doesn’t know if you’re just tolerating his presence.

The deputies don’t believe him, that you’re his Tempest. Simon says you’re too reserved to be her, too shy and quiet and soft. Johnny thinks you’re a pretty little lass who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Kyle mentions how you’re not aggressive enough to be John’s Tempest, nothing agitates you at all, even the one drunk asshole that finds his way to the diner one night while he’s there. The guy nearly trashes the diner, toppling over stools and knocking the napkin dispensers and salt shakers to the ground. You aren’t even fazed, just wait for Kyle to kick him out and get to cleaning it all up. 

So you’re really different. So what? He knows you’ve got some of that spark still, he’d seen it in your eyes. Besides, he likes you now, too. You’re softer, sweeter, than he’s used to. You’re still snarky, still sharp-tongued, it’s just that your rough edges have been smoothed by time.

When he gets that panicked phone call from you, he swears he’d never felt dread the way he did when you were whimpering on the other end of the call. He sped like the devil to get to you. You being shaken more than anything else was such an immense relief he felt his heart shrink and swell with each beat. Taking you home and crawling into bed with you felt like he’d finally found the piece of his heart that’d gone missing since you left him behind. 

“You look smitten. Have a good night?” Kyle knows. It’s written all over his smug face. All he can do is roll his eyes.

“For the record, I had a wonderful fuckin’ night. I got my woman, and I got to prove you lot wrong in one fell swoop. And Graves got a beating.” The man himself scoffs from his spot on the cell bed. John turns, walking right up to the bars.

“I could always bring her back, you know. Let her break your arm more, let her show you just how easy it’d be to dislocate that shoulder of yours.” He can see the way the man swallows, but he doesn’t move or respond otherwise. 

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He turns to his deputies. “Now I want a formal fuckin’ apology for doubting me.” Simon rolls his eyes from behind that bandana. Johnny groans out a protest.

“Can’t blame us, can you? Not a damn soul would know the beast she is just being around her for a little. She’s like a little sleeper agent.” 

“She’s nothing special.” Graves spits from his bed. It’s a wonder he has the balls to speak about you like that, or at all. John’s just about fed up, but Simon beats him to it.

“Says the guy with a broken arm and a concussion. You better watch your back, she’ll kill you if given the chance.” He laughs, sour and unamused.

“Yeah right. I was drunk, and she caught me off my guard. She couldn’t do it again.” Suddenly John knows all too well that Graves did not grow up in this town. Because the folks who did know that you were the most violent creature in a fifty-mile radius, and would pummel anyone half to death. He probably doesn’t even know about your stint in juvie, let alone your history for anger management. Then, John does laugh, at the notion that Graves got his ass handed to him on a silver platter by the girl he thought was some pushover subordinate.

“That woman will chew you up and shit you out dead. You’re lucky I hadn’t found her again earlier. You may have been dead long before you got the chance to be fired.” Words aren’t enough to convince him, but it doesn’t matter. If he’s stupid enough to come after you again, he’ll find out soon enough. He scoffs again, shifting to sit on the edge of the cell bed.

“Right. You got into this town two years ago. She’s been working under me for five. The fuck do you know?” It’s tempting to spill the history you share, but your secrets are yours.

“What does he know?” Graves jumps in his spot at the sound of your voice. John’s entire body heats, his eyes drifting over to where you’re leaning up against the wall. He didn’t even hear the door open. When he reaches for you, you drift toward him like a magnet, tucking yourself into his side while he presses a kiss to your temple. Suddenly he’s not so mad anymore, his blood settling from a rolling boil to a simmer. 

“How long have you been there, Tempest?” He watches you shrug, feels his heart speed in his chest when you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Long enough. Simon let me in and held the bell so it didn’t sound.” He glares daggers at the man, who only shrugs. “I wanted to come see you. Brought you boys some lunch.” He looks to the desk where you’ve put a large insulated bag. Wonderful fuckin’ woman you are. Your attention flits back to Graves, who’d stood up and backed into the corner but still tried to look intimidating. There’s this look on his face, eyes just a little too wide to be comfortable, chest moving with tiny, quick breaths. Still as a statue, like a deer in headlights. He knows that look. He’s seen it in the other juvie residents who were stupid enough to get on your bad side. He’s afraid of you, he’s seen the bloodlust in your eyes, seen the way you love to make someone bleed.

“Phil.”

“The fuck do you want?” There’s an urge bubbling inside him to rip the cell door open and pummel the man for talking to his woman that way. 

“I didn’t come for you. Didn’t think you’d still be here.” His shoulders visibly relax, but only a little. He nearly laughs at the guy. He’s pitiful really. You push off of John, slipping away toward the cell. He fights the urge to yank you back, away from the man that wanted to hurt you and still probably does. 

“But, since you’re here, I may as well give my piece.” Your tone goes sharp, dark with promises he knows you can and will keep. “If you ever come after me again, I’ll make you disappear.” Graves bristles from his corner. John’s hard in his jeans.

“Is that a threat?” 

“What the fuck do you think, Phillip? I’m intimately familiar with an assault charge, and attempted murder isn’t far off. All I’m asking is that you leave me the fuck alone, and you won’t ever have to find out what John knows and you don’t.” When you step back to John, Graves lunges for the bars where you stood.

“That’s bullshit. Five years I’ve been screaming at you and what did you do? You took it and went on with your day. I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, lying bitch.” Suddenly, the urge is overwhelming. His heart is erratic in his chest, and when he lunges toward Graves it’s you that stops him in his tracks, a hand on his chest while you stand directly in his warpath. 

“It’s not worth it, John. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.” He huffs like a bull, but relents. Still, he’s pissed. You turn back to the cell. “Go get a damn life, Phil. Quit blaming your problems on everyone else and get your shit together.” The guy turns a concerning shade of red, but stays silent. He’s probably not all that used to having someone bite back. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him with stars in your eyes. You’re so fuckin’ pretty it hurts. He wraps his own arms around you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. He’s so far gone. 

“Pretty woman. I ever tell you how hot you look when you’re threatening someone?” When you giggle it’s like his soul leaves his body. The prettiest sound he’ll ever hear, he’s sure of it.

“No. That’s cause I don’t usually give them a warning. Used to just come out swinging, remember?” Oh yeah, he remembers. He remembers how often he’d jack off in the juvie showers to the memory of whatever violence you’d committed that day, watching you swing and sweat and grin like a maniac. 

“Ugh. You two were made for each other, that’s for damn sure.” He watches your grin stretch across your face when Kyle says it, pretending to wretch over his shoulder. Your eyes flit over to him, and you look so much like a mom trying to cheer up her child.

“You’ll find someone, Deputy Garrick. Give it time.” His eyes roll.

“Just go get a room, would you?” You laugh, and he laughs, and John couldn’t be happier than he is at this very moment. You lean up and kiss him, sweet and soft and far too quick for his liking.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Have fun dealing with that one.” You jerk your head toward Graves, who’s still fuming. “Try not to kill him.”

“No promises, Tempest.” He releases you, then you’re off with another peck on his cheek. Simon chuckles from his corner once you’re out the door. John deflates, annoyance prickling his skin.

“The fuck is so funny, Riley?” 

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.” Hell yeah you do. He’s not ashamed of it, hell he’s proud.

“You got a problem with it?” Simon throws his hands up in surrender.

“Not a one. It’s just a wonder you ever let her go without even asking where she’d be going. Couldn’t have been me.” He groans and rolls his eyes. This conversation? Again?

“Fuckin’ can it. I’m not listening to another lecture about ‘the one that got away’. She didn't get away.” 

“Aye but she almost did!” Johnny pipes up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the desk, already digging into one of the sandwiches you’d made for them.

“But she didn’t.” He huffs, getting fed up with the conversation they’ve already had too many times. Kyle hums thoughtfully.

“Ten years. An awful long time to be away from someone you fell so hard for.” Yeah, it was. Hurt like the devil, too.

“The fuck? I thought you didn’t grow up here?” When Graves makes his presence known again, it sends a bolt of rage through his blood. All four of them turn to see the man suddenly invested in the conversation, arms through the bars and temple leaned up against them. 

“I didn’t.” His face scrunches up in confusion.

“Then how the hell did you know her ten years ago?” He glances over at his deputies, and they all seem to share the same sentimental shrug.

“We spent time in the same juvenile detention hall.” He scoffs from the bars.

“Juvie ten years ago? Right. And you liked her cause what, she was a docile little plaything? Let you do whatever you wanted?” He barks out a laugh at the thought. You? Docile? Fat fuckin’ chance. He reaches up and feels the bridge of his nose, the thing’s still a little crooked thanks to you.

“Nah, that girl broke my fuckin’ nose the first day she was in cause she wanted my punching bag. That’s all you’re gettin outta me. You can find out for yourself just how volatile she is if you wanna know that bad.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“That’s your damn problem. I’m not gonna waste my time convincing you.” He doesn’t give him any more of his attention, pulling one of those sandwiches out of the bag you’d hauled over. There’s enough food to feed the four of them and then some.

He’s going over to yours tonight, just to give you a heartfelt thank you between your legs.

[anchovy]

Always intrigued by the straight man x bi women couples where the man has entire personality revolve around loving other fat titted naked women but the girlfriend never posts about men to the same degree. It seems like such a painful existence for the girlfriend.

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

Jmart sketchy sketch because I will never not be emotional about them

[puppppppppy]

footnotes arent enough I need you to talk to me like im fucking Amelia Bedelia

[whatudottu]

The funny thing about a TFP Humanformers AU is that if you’re changing the bots to humans, that leave the question of if the humans are bots or the humans are not, because if the Autobot Decepticon faction division still exists and the war is ongoing you’d kinda just… be left with random robot children that got involved somehow.

I mean, cybertronian Fowler makes sense given he’s a military man and primary human liaison for the Autobots already, flipping him around potentially means that he’s a military ranked bot hiding on Earth under the protection of the Autobots. The cybertronian version of MECH too makes sense as the ‘Decepticons’ of this switched universe, probably being Shockwave wannabes and dissecting human cadavers or vivisecting live subjects in the pursuit of alien interests; stereotypical alien behaviour according to Earth media. Heck, robo Fowler and mecha Silas can have PERSONAL beef or at least a history of knowing each other to the point that the Autobots are warned of a more insidious alien curiousity.

But the kids being on Earth is like… harder? Aside from explaining why they’re on a completely different planet (if it even IS based on Earth) you also gotta consider the gimmick that these kids get themselves into danger mostly thanks to the headstrong enthusiast and overeager Miko dragging the others along, and idk about you but if I saw a giant robot kid come across a fresh battlefield and say anything remotely positive about it, I’d probably just give up and turn the other direction.

[anarchne]

Every day new massacres are committed against children and women

We are being subjected to genocide, and the entire world is silent and unmoving

I am writing to express my concern about the slow progress of our campaign and the lack of support in deploying it to achieve our goal. I ask everyone involved to help us save our family.

We live in very difficult circumstances

The daily suffering we experience is unimaginable to anyone, the difficult living conditions, constant anxiety and fear

Thank you for your interest in this issue.

https://gofund.me/345e1bc0

at the time of this post the GFM has raised: $2,591 / $48,000 CAD

please donate and/or share.

thank you for reaching out, israa. i am so sorry you and your loved ones are going through this. i completely validate your worry. i honestly don’t know what to say other than i won’t stop talking about the genocide you’re going through, others in my life have not and will not, and i will continue in attempting to boost traction by sharing your campaign. i have donated, and ask everyone reading this to either do the same or to reblog this post and your posts so it reaches people who can.

here is also some additional resources to help palestinians in general.

[exopelagic]

i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy

[michi-chelle]

recommendations for resources or reading material about queer polyamorous relationships?

[werebear-butch]

Sometimes I really just need to hear “I’m proud of you” even when I fail.

[cattatoir]

Idk I’m still annoyed how people say it’s Crowley’s fault Aziraphale doesn’t know Gabriel tried to kill him and Heaven wants to end the world when he does know both of those things since the last season and Crowley did remind him of them in their first and last fights, respectively

Like I don’t think the details were something he’d feel the need to share like what, to quash Aziraphale’s belief in good (which is what we all love?) or to try and convince him when he’s already made up his mind?

Like the actual compromise they could have met is just. Not realistic for their characters right now. Aziraphale is, consciously or not, determined not to fully acknowledge how bad Heaven is and Crowley isn’t willing to fight for Heaven’s soul bc he’s not convinced it’s winnable. He barely seems to think fighting for Earth outright is doable he’s not gonna do it without Aziraphale, yet. Aziraphale’s also not willing to do the relationship Crowley wants, yet.