#if i go to the gym or work out i probably will

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 3

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

a/n: this is just a chapter that moves their relationship forward a little so it’s honestly just random interactions they have. let me know what you think/live react if you can. they’re always appreciated 🫶🏼

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Azzi had been back in LA for four days. The Sparks had already knocked out two games, and the schedule gave them a rare breath. One day off before flying out to Connecticut for a few road games. She’d been staring at her phone on and off all morning. Honestly she’d been thinking about texting Paige since she landed back in LA.

Azzi knew that if she didn’t reach out first Paige likely never would. So she kept flipping her phone screen up, then down. Eventually she sighed and grabbed her phone again. Her first message was just something simple.

Azzi [9:17AM]:

hi gorgeous

She didn’t expect a quick response, especially not from Paige. But her phone lit up almost immediately.

Paige [9:17 AM]:

wassup?

This made Azzi sit up a little straighter. She smiled and typed a response.

Azzi [9:17 AM]:

what are you up to today?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

got a training. then prolly going to workout

Azzi blinked, laughing under her breath.

Azzi [9:18 AM]:

you’re going to workout AFTER you’re done training?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

yeah

Of course she was. Azzi bit her lip, thumbs hovering as she debated what she wanted to say next. Finally, she decided to just be blunt.

Azzi [9:19 AM]:

i wanna see you today

if that’s ok with you

There was a short pause. Long enough to make Azzi regret sending it before Paige finally replied.

Paige [9:21 AM]:

you can come work out with me

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

it’s an off day

but i can come watch you workout

Paige [9:22 AM]:

watch me workout? seems boring

Azzi grinned as she typed her reply

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

i’m sure i’ll enjoy myself

Paige texted back a minute later.

Paige [9:23 AM]:

trainer’s coming at 10

i’ll probably start my workout around 12

Paige dropped a pin for her address and Azzi liked the message.

Azzi [9:24 AM]:

see you soon :)

As the morning stretched on, Azzi kept herself busy by stretching, having a little fruit, and scrolling. The clock felt like it was moving just a little slower than usual on purpose.

But when it finally got closer to the time she should leave, she took a shower and slipped on a pair of black Nike leggings and a black crop top. It was warm enough that the idea of her curls sticking to her neck made her grimace, so she pulled her hair up into a bun.

She glanced at herself once in the mirror, fixing her bun slightly before she grabbed her keys to head out the door.

When Azzi pulled up to the house, she eased into the driveway next to a matte black Audi R8 V10. Her eyes lingered on it for a second, slightly surprised.

She reached for her phone, debating whether to shoot Paige a quick text letting her know she was here. But she figured Paige was probably mid-set or hadn’t even checked her phone since this morning. So she opted for the side gate that she remembered going through with Cam and Rickea last time they were here.

The path curved around the backyard, and as she got closer to the gym she heard a voice calling out numbers and gloves hands hitting mitts with a constant rhythm. It sounded like Paige was still with her trainer so Azzi slowed her pace slightly, not wanting to interrupt.

Azzi stepped in slowly, the door creaking just enough to announce her presence. Paige and her trainer both instinctively turned toward the sound; Paige still breathing heavily, cloves resting at her sides, a grey shirt clinging to her skin.

The trainer looked confused, his eyes flicking to Paige silently asking if she was expecting someone but Paige didn’t react, only offering up, “I’ll be done in like ten minutes.”

Azzi gave her a soft smile saying, “No rush.” Azzi then made her way to the bench tucked along the side wall.

The trainer raised his padded hands again, and Paige turned back to him, nodding her head slightly, telling him to continue.

“1-1-2,” he called out.

Paige’s gloves snapped forward in a quick rhythm of two jabs and a cross.

“1-2-3.”

Another jab, cross, lead hook. It all seemed so crisp. Paige reacted to the combos like they had been engraved in her brain.

“6-3-2.”

The uppercut she threw landed with enough force to make her trainer shift his stance. He didn’t comment on it, just nodded in silent praise.

Azzi leaned back against the bench, watching the rest of Paige’s training unfold. Paige’s grey shirt was soaked through the back, and her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun. There was no music playing and no unnecessary chatter. Azzi’s eyes tracked every one of Paige’s movements. The way her back foot pivoted, how she snapped back into guard after each hit. How her shoulders moved with fluidity. Her breathing steady even as sweat rolled down the side of her jaw.

She looked beautiful like this and Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of watching her in her element.

The trainer called for a sidekick and Paige turned her hips and threw it hard—maybe a little too hard. Her foot hit the pad and forced her trainer to take a small step back, wincing with a quick laugh.

“Alright, yeah,” he said, shaking her head. “We’re done for the day.”

Paige’s face didn’t change much. She just exhaled through her nose, taking a step back and uncleaning her fists. She mumbled out, “My bad,” before moving to step out of the cage.

She walked toward the bench, tugging at the velcro on her gloves as Azzi sat up straighter, trying not to let it show how much she’d been staring.

Paige peeled the gloves off her hands and tossed them onto the bench next to Azzi. She stepped forward, reaching just past her, close enough that Azzi caught the faint scene to sweat and whatever soap Paige used. Her arm brushed Azzi’s shoulder lightly as she grabbed a half-empty bottle of water.

Paige twisted the cap off and took a long swig before glancing down at Azzi. “What’d you think?”

Azzi looked up at her, a small smile on her lips. “You look good.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, “I was talking about my form Azzi.”

Azzi shrugged, a little sheepish, but she still had a smile on her face. “I mean…I don’t know anything about fighting. But you hit stuff really well and you look good doing it.”

Paige just stared at her for a second, jaw flexing before she finally shook her head and took a step back, mumbling under her breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Azzi stood up, brushing invisible lint off her leggings as she took a step toward Paige. The blonde had her fingers hooked at the hem of her wet shirt tugging it upward over her torso. Her abs flexed briefly with her movements and her skin glistened under the overhead lights. She let her gaze linger, just for a second too long and Paige caught it. She paused halfway through pulling her shirt over her head saying, “Enjoying the show?”

Azzi’s eyes lift up to meet Paige’s blue ones. At the same time she bites her bottom lip a little saying, “Like I said, you definitely look good.”

Paige yanks the shirt off the rest of the way. “That right?”

Brown eyes drop to pale collarbones and abs before rising. “That’s right.”

Paige shakes her head with a quiet chuckle and glances somewhere else in the gym. “You flirt like you get paid to do it.”

Azzi grinned at this. “Could be if you hired me.”

That made Paige glance over at her again, a slight sparkle in her eye. “What’s the job description?”

Azzi pretended to think about it for a second before saying, “Motivational speaker. Personal admirer maybe. Really depends on what you like.”

Paige took another sip of her water, maybe trying to hide the small curve at the edge of her mouth. “You’re a little ridiculous, you know that?”

Azzi shrugged, “You’re not telling me to stop, so maybe you like it.”

Paige looked at her, like really looked, then just briefly her eyes flicked from Azzi’s face to her lips, the back again. If Azzi wasn’t paying attention she wouldn’t have caught it, but she did and she licked her lips slightly to stop the smirk. Paige finally said, “I told you, You can flirt if it floats your boat.”

“It does.”

They stood in the stillness of Azzi’s words for a second and the air between them seemed to get a little thick before Paige looked away, tipping her head toward the weights. “Spot me?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off of Paige as she nodded. “Mhmm.”

Paige walked over to the bench press, grabbing a towel and throwing it over the bench before sitting down. Azzi trailed after her slowly, watching every movement.

“You can’t spot me if you’re just going to stare,” Paige said plainly.

Azzi smiled, completely unapologetic about her blatant staring. “You’ll be fine.”

Paige scoffed softly, then laid back and adjusted her grip on the bar. Azzi stepped in behind her, hovering above the bar now. Paige exhaled deeply and began her set, the bar rising and falling easily. Azzi counted under her breath, but somewhere around rep five, her eyes began to drift from Paige’s shoulders to her chest down to her tight abs on display.

By the eight rep, Paige racked the bar cleanly and sat up. She caught Azzi’s gaze. “Thought you were spotting me.”

Azzi blinked, adding a sarcastic comment to recover. “Seems like you didn’t need one.”

Paige wiped her face with the towel. “I didn’t. I was humoring you.”

Azzi grinned. “That’s sweet. Most people take me seriously though.”

Paige took a long sip of water, then looked at her again. “That might be the problem.”

Azzi tilted her head at this. “You don’t?”

Paige met her gaze. “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi let the moment hang, the tension rising in the space between them.

Paige looked away, putting her water bottle back on the floor. “I’m doing another set.”

Azzi stepped back slightly, eyes still on her. “Don’t let me distract you.”

Paige shook her head as she laid back down, gripping the bar mumbling, “Little late for that.”

She moved through the rest of her push day easily, not pushing herself too hard. Doing just enough to keep her muscles active. Azzi lingered close by during each exercise, standing near Paige, sitting on the edge of the bench, or crouched nearby, offering jokes to distract the blonde on purpose.

“Your shoulders are actually kind of crazy,” Azzi said at one point when Paige set down her dumbbells. “You could do all of this and still have energy to carry me upstairs.”

Paige shook her head, biting back a laugh as she grabbed her towel. “You got a crazy ass imagination.”

“Not crazy,” Azzi responded, walking with Paige to her next station. “Just optimistic.”

There were more lines like that. Compliments tossed out like bait knowing Paige would bite on some of them. For the most part Paige deflected with a dry comment or a simple raised eyebrow, but Azzi noticed the few that landed. The slight lift at the corner of Paige’s mouth, the way she’d glance down at her feet or take a deep breath before moving on.

Eventually the workout wrapped up and Paige was rolling out her shoulders and stretching on one of her mats. Her arms were crossed behind her back in a deep chest opener. Azzi had been quiet for the past couple of minutes, as she watched Paige stretch in peace.

“You always dissociate like this when you’re done working out? Azzi asked as she stepped closer to Paige.

“Only when somebody’s staring at me like they’re tryna eye fuck me and I gotta pretend like I don’t see it.” Paige replied, keeping her eyes forward.

Azzi smiled at this and said, “I’m just appreciating the view.”

Paige turned her head, catching the way Azzi’s gaze wasn’t on her face, her eyes resting on the exposed skin just above her waistband. Now don’t get her wrong, Azzi wasn’t desperate by any means. She just knew what her gaze did, knew how to play the game right. So when she saw Paige looking at her she stepped closer, the two of them face to face and her hand lifted, her fingers lightly grazing the lining of Paiges stomach muscles, her eyes moving up to see the blonde’s reaction.

Paige’s jaw looked clenched and her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. For a moment it didn’t feel like the blonde was breathing. The contact was so light that it could’ve been imagined, but Paige felt it and it made her all too aware of how long it had been since she’d gotten laid.

Azzi let her fingers drop away, brushing her hand back as if nothing happened. “Did I tell you that you look good already?”

Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just kept her gaze on Azzi’s face, then drifted her eyes to Azzi’s lips before she broke it, looking past her, toward the other end of the gym like she needed to redirect her thoughts before they got ahead of her.

“You hungry?” Paige asked.

Azzi didn’t move at first, still watching Paige’s reaction before she finally stepped back, a small smile returning to her face. “I could eat.”

Paige nodded, breathing out through her nose as if Azzi stepping back gave her enough space to focus again. “Cool,” she said, bending down to reach for her towel. “Gimme a few to shower?”

Azzi just nodded as she walked over to grab her phone and keys from the bench.

Paige hesitated before she added, “You can come in if you want. Chill in the living room or whatever.”

“Yeah, sure,” Azzi said as she brushed her fingers through her hair, redoing her bun as they walked out of the gym together.

Paige flipped off the lights before shutting the door behind them. The early afternoon sun had warmed the path between Paige’s gym and the house and neither one of them spoke as they made their way across it.

Once they were inside Paige gestured down the hall. “Living room’s right through there. Think the remote’s on the couch.”

Azzi gave her a short nod and she watched as the blonde undid her bun and ran a hand through her damp hair before disappearing around the corner to head upstairs. There was something so effortlessly magnetic about her that Azzi couldn’t put her finger on.

She made her way into the living room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floors. She sank into the large cream colored couch, her body easily relaxing into the soft cushions as her gaze drifted around the space. The house was a modern Beverly hills home but it didn’t feel cold or unlived in.

There was a massive flat screen TV that was mounted on the fart wall with a PS5 mounted next to it. The TV was tucked between two tall shelves that held a mix of items. Some shelves were stacked with books while others had completed LEGO sets lined up and vinyls for a record player that sat nearby.

There was a collection of picture frames and Azzi leaned forward slightly, squinting to see them better from where she sat. A few of the pictures had Cam in them, the two of them in various settings: on a court, at what looked like a dinner, one with their arms slung around each other when they were younger at what looked like a family function. Other frames held what Azzi assumed was other family members. One picture showed Paige with a little girl on her back, both of them laughing.

Azzi’s eyes trailed to the large floor length curtained windows. Sunlight pressing softly against the cream fabric casting muted lines on the floor. The space felt personal.

She passed the time by scrolling on her phone, mindlessly switching between her apps. Azzi wasn’t sure of how much time had gone by when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and when she looked up Paige was back. She was dressed in black Essentials sweats and a fitted black tank top.

Azzi’s eyes took in her appearance before she smiled. “You love showing off your arms, huh?”

“We live in L.A.”

Azzi laughed softly as Paige walked fully into the living room and sat on the couch, leaning her weight against the armrest.

“You smell good.”

Normally, Paige would’ve brushed it off, letting the comment go unaddressed. This time she glanced at Azzi and offered a small, “Thank you.”

Azzi was momentarily caught off guard by the acknowledgement. She was used to Paige ignoring her compliments at this point.

Paige leaned back further into the couch, letting her arm drape over the edge. “You have a preference? Food-wise?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who just worked out for, like, three and a half hours.”

Paige shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I already started cutting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Cutting?”

Paige nodded, resting her phone against her thigh. “Yeah. I gotta drop back to 135.”

Azzi’s forehead creased, her confusion and curiosity reflexive. “What are you now?”

“I’m naturally like 140, 141,” Paige said. “Gotta be 135 at most for the fight tho.”

Azzi tilted her head, still confused. “Alright potential stupid question…why drop weight? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just fight at whatever weight you’re naturally at?”

Paige raised her eyebrows a little, clearly used to this question. “It doesn’t really work like that. Most fighters cut weight to compete in a lower class. Fighting up means you're probably giving up a lot of size, reach, strength. It’s doable, but you’re at a disadvantage most of the time.” Paige pauses before adding, “Think about it like me for example. I’m 141 dropping to 135. If I fought at 145 I’d prolly be fighting someone who’s naturally 151 dropping to 145. So they’d have 10 pounds on me naturally.”

“So 135 is...what weight class?” Azzi asked, shifting a little closer on the couch.

“Bantamweight,” Paige answered , taking a sip of water. “I can fight at featherweight too if I want—that’s 145. But most of the top girls in that division walk around way heavier than I do.”

Azzi nodded. “So you’ll drop, weigh in at 135, and then go back up?”

“Pretty much. It’s a game. Make weight, rehydrate, eat. You just hope the cut doesn’t drain you too much. It’s why I start earlier.”

Azzi’s eyes drifted away, still trying to wrap her head around the new information. “That sounds crazy. And the weigh-in is right before the fight?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, usually the day before. Gives you time to recover a little.”

“So how many classes are there in the UFC?”

“For women? Four main ones. Strawweight, Flyweight, Bantamweight, and Featherweight,” Paige listed off easily. “Each one’s got killers. Every class plays out a little different depending on size and speed.”

Azzi glanced over at her. “You really know all this off the top of your head?”

Paige nodded. “I live it.”

Azzi smiled, letting the quiet admiration show on her face. “You know this is probably the most you’ve talked since we met, right?”

Paige glanced at her. “It’s easy to talk about.”

Azzi shifted again slightly on the couch, turning her body more toward Paige. “Yeah. I can tell it means a lot to you.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion before looking over. “It does.”

The room settled into a soft pause before Azzi nudged her knee lightly against Paige’s. “You just wanna order something?”

Paige glanced down at the slight contact before saying, “Up to you.”

Azzi grinned. “Dangerous last words.”

Paige shrugged, letting her arm drape over the back of the couch. “I trust you…Kinda.”

Azzi gave her a mock-offended look. “Kinda?”

“Let’s see what you pick first.”

Paige tossed her phone toward Azzi, who grabbed it from the couch cushion it landed on. She tucked her legs underneath her and began scrolling through DoorDash, her eyes scanning for something that caught her attention.

After a few minutes, she made a satisfied noise, picked something for herself and handed the phone back. “This one.”

Paige looked down at the screen, reading the choice. Her expression didn’t change as she glanced back up at Azzi. “You’re disgusting.”

Azzi laughed, unbothered. “God forbid an athlete tries to eat healthy.”

Paige shook her head, muttering under her breath as she navigated the app. “This isn’t healthy. It’s a crime.”

“I like what I like,” Azzi said with a big smile, clearly amused by Paige’s distaste.

Paige ended up ordering a BLTA for herself and then locked the phone, tossing it aside on the cushion. “I no longer trust you to pick a meal.”

Azzi smirked. “Shouldn’t have handed me your phone.”

Paige let out a soft huff of a laugh and leaned back again. “Mistakes were clearly made.”

Azzi mirrored Paige’s position, tilting her head back to rest against the back of the couch as she watched the side of Paige’s face. “So,” she said casually, “what do you usually do when you have people over?”

Paige didn’t glance over. “I don’t.”

“Like…ever?”

“Not really.” Paige said, tilting her head to look over at Azzi for a second. “Too much effort and they never know when to leave.”

Azzi smirked. “Sounds like you’ve had some interesting guests.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’ve had…mistakes.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Mistakes?” Her tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity in it. “You don’t do the whole casual thing?”

Paige shook her head. “Too much of a distraction. Not worth the trouble at the end of the day.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying her. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s just never been good enough?”

Paige's eyes stayed forward. “I didn’t say that.”

“If it was good enough, it’d be worth the trouble.”

Paige let out a laugh—more air than sound—but her face didn’t change. “You’re real confident for someone making a lot of assumptions.”

Azzi shrugged, eyes never leaving Paige. “You make it easy. You talk like someone who’s been disappointed one too many times.”

Paige let the comment hang in the air, deciding not to comment on it. “Tell me about you,” she said casually.

Azzi lifted her eyebrow. “What do you wanna know?”

Paige didn’t blink. “Whatever you wanna tell.”

So Azzi decides to talk to Paige about basketball. She shifted as she spoke, animated in a way Paige hadn’t seen before. Her hands moved when she talked about her parents, her eyes lighting up when she described the chaos of the backyard drills and unconventional training days—the time her mom saran wrapped her right arm to make her left better. Paige listened, barely speaking, but her expressions—however small—gave her away. A faint smirk at the saran wrap story, subtle eye contact at the ACL details, a quiet nod when Azzi described the mental weight of the recovery.

When Azzi got to the part about winning a championship, her voice softened just a little, like the memory carried a kind of stillness in her heart. “It made everything feel worth it,” she said, gaze lingering on the wall for a moment before glancing back at Paige. “Every surgery, every rehab session…all of it.”

Before Paige could respond, the doorbell rang. She stood up to grab the food, muttering something about “terrible timing” that earned a smile from Azzi. She sat back down, gave Azzi her food and they started to eat as the conversation picked up again. This time with Paige asking more, drawing Azzi out on certain moments, adding dry comments here and there that made Azzi laugh. Comments that made Azzi glance at her like she was trying to figure her out in a new way.

After she grew tired of talking about herself Azzi finished a bite of her sandwich and asked, “What about you? What made you get into fighting?” She knew the basics from Cam, how Paige’s dad had introduced her to the sport. Still, she wanted to hear it from Paige herself.

Paige glanced at her, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back against the couch. She didn’t answer right away, her eyebrows moving very slightly as she thought about what to say.

“I’m sure Cam’s told you I can be a bit…” she trailed off, lips tugging to the side as she searched for the right word. “Ill-tempered sometimes.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, amused more by Paige’s dry delivery than the admission itself. “That’s one way to put it.”

Paige chuckled slightly, her gaze dropping to the space between them. “My dad noticed it early on. Instead of riding me about it or trying to fix it the way most parents might, he found me something I could throw it into. Said I needed an outlet. Fighting made the most sense.”

Azzi nodded, chewing slowly as she took the information in. “Where’d the ‘ill-temperament’ come from?”

Paige was quiet for a moment but her posture or expression didn’t change. “When I was younger, my parents used to argue a lot. I’m talking loud, ugly shit. Eventually they split. I think I was around fourteen. Fifteen maybe.” She cleared her throat like it might push away the weight of the memory. “I was pissed at my mom for a while for leaving. Didn’t matter that it was probably the right choice or that she was doing the best she could. At that age, anger sort of…replaces any logic.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt, just turned more toward her as she listened.

“We’re good now though…really good, actually. But back then? I was just mad. At everything. Fighting gave me somewhere to put it.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion again, eyes moving up toward the ceiling for a second. “I don’t know why I still got a temper now, honestly. Maybe I just got hit in the head too many times.”

To her surprise, Azzi let out a soft laugh before adding, “You probably shouldn’t joke about that,” giving Paige a playful nudge with her knee.

Paige smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she glanced at her. “I’ll live.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, but her smile lingered. “Sure. Just don’t start forgetting things mid-conversation and we’ll be good.”

“I do that already,” Paige deadpanned, reaching for her water. “So if I forget your name tomorrow, don’t take it personal.”

Azzi tilted her head, grinning. “I’ll just remind you. Over and over and over.”

Paige gave her a sideways look shaking her head a little.

Azzi leaned her head back against the couch, eyes scanning Paige’s face. “You feel ready for the fight?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, arms folding loosely across her stomach. “No,” she admitted. “But I got two and a half weeks to be ready.”

Azzi tilted her head with genuine curiosity. “What makes you not ready?”

Paige shifted, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her water bottle. “Still gotta drop a few more pounds,” she said, then added, “And I’ve only watched a couple of her fights. I don’t have a feel for her tells yet.”

“Why aren’t you watching more then?”

Paige glanced over, adding dryly. “You’re here.”

Azzi gave a one-shouldered shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching. “We can watch it.”

There was a small stretch of silence before Paige asked, “You sure?” Searching Azzi’s face like she didn’t expect the offer.

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah.”

Paige grabbed the remote from the coffee table, her voice a little quiet as she said, “Bet,” before turning on the TV. A beat passed before she pulled up the fight footage, scrolling through a few thumbnails before selecting one.

They watched in near silence, the commentary barely registering as Paige sat forward, forearms resting on her thighs, eyes locked on the screen like she was studying a puzzle no one else could solve. The glow of the TV danced against her features, her a little jaw tense. Expression completely unreadable.

Every so often, Azzi would ask a question. Sometimes pointing at something, sometimes just tilting her head in confusion and Paige would answer, not unkindly, but with the same flat focus she gave the fight. Her replies were short, sometimes dry, offering, “No, that’s not a choke.” Or, “That’s awful footwork, she’s baiting herself.” But she never ignored Azzi, never brushed her off which didn’t go unnoticed by the brown eyed girl. If anything, she kept rewinding the footage as if each question helped her think differently.

Paige replayed one sequence three times in a row. “She drops her left every time she throws a hook,” she mumbled more to herself than to Azzi, gesturing with the remote. “Wide open for a counter.”

Azzi nodded slowly, starting to follow the things Paige was explaining to her. At one point she squinted at the fighter in question. “Why does she drop her hands when she lands?” she asked after a few seconds.

Paige blinked over at her. “What?”

Azzi pointed at the screen, her voice reflecting her curiosity. “Right after she hits clean, like you call it. She does this little—" she mimicked it, “—like, a half shrug or flex.”

Paige narrowed her eyes and rewound the clip, watching it again. Going back to other timeframes where she remembered a hit landing. The girl would land a crazy combo and sure enough, right after a hook. There was a split-second drop of her hands, almost like a flash of her arrogance, a cocky shoulder roll.

Paige stared for a moment, then tilted her head in complete confusion at something so obvious. “…What the fuck,” she whispered, almost too low for Azzi to hear. “That’s a rhythm break.”

Azzi smiled slightly at the thought of helping Paige a little

Paige didn’t say anything right away, she just rewound and played the moment back a few more times, in disbelief. “It’s so fucking obvious that I didn’t even see that. That’s...that’s stupid, but it’s useful.” She sat back slightly, her eyebrows raised in thought. “She’s gonna eat a hook doing that shit.”

Azzi leaned her head against the couch, watching Paige more than the screen now. “Guess I’m good for something.”

Paige didn’t look over, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Remind me to bring you to film more often.”

Azzi smiled at that, but didn’t respond. Instead, she let the silence settle between them again, the commentary of the fight filling the space. Paige suddenly exhaled and sank back into the couch, her posture finally relaxing.

“You always like this before a fight?” Azzi asked softly, not necessarily teasing her, just curious about getting to know her mannerisms.

Paige glanced over at her, her eyes more reflective than defensive. “I don’t know. Guess I just get quiet. Try to lock in.”

Azzi nodded. “You’re intense.”

“Takes one to know one.”

That made Azzi laugh, but it was quieter this time. She shifted to face Paige fully, resting her arm on the back of the couch behind her. “You ever get scared?”

Paige’s eyes moved back to the screen, then down to her hands resting on her thighs. “Not of getting hit,” she said eventually. “I trained too long for that. I’m more afraid of...not being good enough. Not being who I expect myself to be.”

The room went a little still after that. Not in a bad way, just honest.

Azzi’s voice dropped, almost hesitant to break the moment. “That’s a lot to carry.”

Paige gave a small nod, the flicker of an emotion crossing her face. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s fingers moved, brushing along the back of the couch, close to Paige’s shoulder but not touching her. “Well,” she said after a moment, “for what it’s worth…you’re one of the few people I’ve ever watched and thought, ‘yeah, she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing.’”

Paige turned her head to look at her and their eyes met for a moment. Almost like Paige was studying Azzi. When she finally spoke her voice was low, “You don’t even like fighting.”

Azzi tilted her head. “No. But I kinda like you so.”

The shift in their positioning was subtle. A slight lean of Azzi’s body toward hers, and the way Paige didn’t pull back. Just sat there, watching her like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with what she was thinking, but she wasn’t going to stop it either.

Paige’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before drifting back to the screen. “You’re easy to be around.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the words and by how Paige said them. Almost like they hadn’t meant to come out, or like she’d practiced saying them in her head but couldn’t bring herself to look at Azzi when she said them.

Azzi smiled softly and teased Paige a little saying, “That was sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Paige added dryly, trying to wrap humor around something that wasn’t really a joke.

“Too late.”

Paige didn’t say anything back—not because she didn’t have a response, but because that was her response.

After a while, the room settled into another comfortable stillness, broken only by the occasional shifting of weight on the couch as they talked. But outside, the sun started to disappear and Azzi glanced at her phone, sighing as she sat up slightly.

“I should go. I gotta be up early. Flight to Connecticut tomorrow.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away, just watched Azzi. “Who you play?”

“Connecticut. Then the Mystics, and the Sky before we come back.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I’ll watch.”

Azzi grinned at this. “You will?”

Paige just looked at her with that same unreadable expression. “Yeah.”

They walked out together, the air cooler than what it was earlier in the day. When they got to Azzi’s car, she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the engine right away as she looked back at Paige, whose hand was resting on the door handle.

“I’ll text you,” Azzi said softly..

Paige gave a small nod. “Alright.” She hesitated for half a second, then gently pushed the car door closed for her.

Azzi lingered behind the window for just a moment, gaze meeting Paige’s again through the glass. Then she gave a small wave before turning on the car and shifting into reverse.

Paige stood near her car and watched Azzi disappear down the path.

…

For the first few days of Azzi’s road trip, they stayed in touch. Not constantly, but enough to be in the loop of one another’s day. Enough to miss it when it started to fade.

They would exchange texts after workouts or games, quick check-ins.

Azzi [12:19 PM]:

almost broke my ankle on a mop left on the court during shoot around

wanna come fight the janitor for me?

Paige [12:21 PM]:

i’ll pull up

being gloves for both of us

Another time after Paige had just finished sparring.

Paige [1:23 PM]:

heads still attached..barely

how’s your shot today?

Azzi [1:40 PM]:

clean. unlike your footwork probably

They even shared a call on the third night. Azzi had dialed on a whim, not expecting much. But Paige answered, the background noise of her gym speakers still playing music behind her voice.

“You’re still there?” Azzi asked, settling back in her hotel bed.

“Yeah,” Paige replied, slightly breathless. “Didn’t think you were the type to call.”

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” Azzi shot back, but the smile in her voice gave her away.

They talked for fifteen minutes—about nothing, really. Just talked.

But by the fifth and sixth day, Paige had gone quiet.

No text. No post-training recap. No response when Azzi sent her something from her game.

It was like she’d disappeared from the face of the earth.

Currently the cabin buzzed faintly with the quiet hum of the team plane and the occasional shuffle of movement from teammates. Azzi sat in her seat, her legs stretched out in front of her and her phone resting on her thigh, screen blank.

Across the aisle, Cam noticed the shift in her energy, even before Azzi pulled her headphones off.

“Hey,” Azzi said, her voice a little quiet to not disturb anyone else as she leaned over. “You heard from Paige?”

Cam looked up from the tablet she was watching film on. “Yeah talked to her a couple of days ago. Why?”

Azzi gave a small shrug, too casual to be real. “Just wondering. Haven’t really heard from her the past few days.”

Cam studied her expression for a moment. Head tilting and eyes narrowing like she was trying to read something off Azzi’s face. “You guys been talking?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah a little.”

Cam’s expression softened—not into pity, but something close. Like she understood something Azzi wasn’t saying yet. She glanced at Azzi’s phone, then back at her.

“I told you she gets like this sometimes,” she offered gently. “Goes quiet. Especially when she’s locked in. Fight’s in a little over a week.”

Azzi nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah,” she murmured, her gaze drifting out the window, even though the clouds outside were too high and white to offer her anything.

“Since you can’t pop up at her house like I’d usually suggest…just call her when we get to the hotel tonight.”

Azzi let out a short breath, more of a quiet exhale than anything. “I’ve already text her a few times.”

“She probably hasn’t even seen them,” Cam told her. “She keeps her call ringer on, but turns off notifications for messages ”

Azzi nodded at that, letting the information settle.

Cam studied her for another moment. Then she smiled a little wide. “You like her, don’t you?”

Azzi blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“I thought you were fucking around before. Just attracted to her like everyone else,” Cam said. “But you actually like her.”

Azzi didn’t answer nor look at her right away. Her fingers tapped her phone once before going still in her lap. There wasn’t a need for her to say it out loud. But still she looked at Cam and said quietly, “Yeah. I do.”

Cam surpassingly didn’t tease her. She just nodded, like she understood the small weight of Azzi saying that. Then she went back to watching film on her iPad and Azzi went back to listening to music.

When they landed and Azzi got settled into her hotel room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in hand. Cam’s words echoed in her head, and for a minute, she just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in her recent contacts. She sighed before she tapped the call button.

It rang three times before a slightly breathless voice came through. “Hey.”

Azzi smiled faintly when she heard her voice. “Hi, stranger.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige said, her voice still a little uneven, the background music muffled but noticeable.

Azzi’s eyebrows pinched together slightly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing just hitting,” she muttered.

Azzi pulled the screen back just long enough to glance at the time. “At 11 at night?”

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, her voice a little distant again like she’d pulled the phone away or was pacing.

It went quiet between them for a moment. Then Paige’s voice cut through more clipped than usual. “You need something?”

Azzi got a little tense at the tone, recognizing the edge in it but choosing not to meet it with her own. “You went a little MIA the past two days.”

There was another pause. Azzi could almost hear Paige slowing down on the other end, just slightly. But the silence stretched for so long it made Azzi think maybe Paige hadn’t heard her

But then—“I’m sorry,” Paige said again, a little softer this time. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Azzi shook her head, adjusting the phone against her ear as she sank back into the pillows. “What’s going on?”

The other end of the line went quiet again, just the faint sound of Paige’s breathing which was slower now, like she’d finally stopped moving. Azzi waited patiently.

Then came a low exhale. “Just been in my head too much.”

Azzi let the silence stretch for a second before asking gently, “You wanna talk about it?”

There was a dry laugh from Paige. “Not much to talk about.”

“You’re in your head, aren’t you?” Azzi challenged her.

The silence that followed gave Azzi her the answer. She shifted again, pulling the hotel comforter over her legs. “What are you in your head about?”

It took Paige a few seconds to respond, but when she did, her voice was quieter than usual.

“No matter how ready you feel,” she said, “there’s still the nerves...the slight fear of stepping in the cage with somebody whose only goal is beating your ass. Knock you out if they can.”

Azzi nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she realized Paige was opening up. She could still hear Paige’s slight breathlessness on the other end of the line, could picture her wiping sweat from her forehead, standing somewhere in the middle of the gym, hands probably still wrapped.

"On the bright side,” Azzi said lightly, “that’s your goal too, right? Just beat her ass first.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, the first genuine one Azzi had heard all call. “Fair.”

A beat passed, then Azzi asked, more seriously this time, “Does this one feel any different?”

“No, not really,” she said slowly. “I just know she’s arrogant. Got something to prove, so she’s gonna come in heavy. Probably try to make it a statement match.”

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her eyes tracing the soft lines in the hotel ceiling. “Then just remind yourself of who you are. Of how you said you don’t step in there unless you know you’re walking out.”

There was a small pause on the other end—then a subtle shift in Paige’s breathing. The heaviness that had stuck to her voice since answering the call started to fall away.

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice steadier now. “You’re right.”

Azzi smiled faintly. “So if you know who you are and what you can do…what’s going on?”

Paige took a long breath before replying. “Before every fight, you gotta get over that hump,” she admitted. “That mindset of knowing one hit…just one hit…could change your life forever. One hit hard enough, and it’s lights out.”

Azzi didn’t jump in to comment right away. She let the truth of the words settle between them, the weight of what Paige said. But she didn’t sound scared, she sounded like someone who knew the risks and still loved what she did.

Azzi shifted slightly under the covers, cradling the phone closer to her ear. Her voice was calm, like she didn’t want to spook whatever Paige was still untangling in her chest.

“What else?” she asked softly. “What else is in your head?”

Paige was quiet again, but it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t guarded this time—more like she was sifting through the noise, trying to find the right thread to pull on.

“…Just feels like a lot,” she said eventually. “The weight of being perfect. The expectations of staying undefeated. The pressure to show up like I’m bulletproof. The discipline it takes everyday. The diet. The sleep. The timing. You miss one thing and it shows. People think it’s just stepping in the cage and fighting but it’s not. It’s everything leading up to it that’s draining.”

Azzi nodded, even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Do you feel ready? Not physically, I mean. Mentally.”

“Some moments I do. Other moments I’m sitting in the gym at midnight because I convinced myself I’m behind.”

“But you’re not.”

“No,” Paige admitted. “I’m not. But that doesn’t stop my brain from trying to tell me I am.”

Azzi hummed quietly. “That voice’s a bitch.”

Paige let out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah. She is.”

Azzi’s voice was even gentler now as she asked, “What does she say?”

“That I’m not sharp enough yet. That I’m going to slip. That my timing’s off. That I don’t have it in me to push myself for the next week. That if I lose, it’s over.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Some days.” A short pause. “Other days, I just fight back harder.”

Azzi laid her head back, letting the silence stretch naturally. “You’re fighting it now, aren’t you?”

Paige didn’t respond for a moment. Then she offered up a quiet, “…Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice grew, steady as ever. “Good. Because she doesn’t know who the fuck she’s talking to.”

Paige opened and closed her mouth, like the words were fighting their way out of her. Then finally, she said, “Thanks…for this.”

Azzi blinked, her eyes still on the ceiling. “For what?”

“For listening. Letting me talk,” Paige whispered. “I’ve never really talked about this before.”

Azzi turned her head toward the phone. “Why not?”

Paige let out a faint breath. “Because if I told Cam, or anyone in my family…it’d just scare them. Make them worry even more than they already do. Everyone’s already on edge when I fight. If they knew what goes on in my head before it? It’d eat at them.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She just listened and as the silence stretched, Paige took it as permission to keep going.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. “It’s not that I don’t trust them. I do, with my life. But it’s different when you’re the one in it. I don’t need someone to freak out for me. I just need…I don’t know. I guess I just need someone to sit with it without freaking out. Like you’re doing now.”

Azzi’s chest tightened a little. The sincerity in Paige’s voice, the vulnerability she was showing was rare. It made her want to reach through her phone and be there in person for this conversation. “I get that,” Azzi said quietly. “And I don’t mind sitting with it if it helps you.”

There was a soft rustling on the other end, like Paige had finally sat down somewhere. Azzi smiled and said, “Now, drag yourself out of the gym.”

Paige gave a quiet, amused sound. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Azzi teased. “Go put together one of those half-finished LEGO sets you were complaining about.”

Paige snorted. “They’re not half-finished, they’re…momentarily paused.”

“Mmhm,” Azzi said, clearly unconvinced. “Well pause the self-destruction and do something that doesn’t involve you punching a bag all night for once.”

Paige laughed a little but didn’t argue. “Alright. I’ll go build something.”

“You better,” Azzi said, already smiling. “And send me a picture of it so I know you didn’t just crawl in bed with a protein shake and call it a night.”

“You know me too well,” Paige mumbled.

“I’m starting to,” Azzi replied, smiling to herself in the empty hotel room in the middle of Chicago.

As the quiet between them settled into something calmer, Paige’s voice came through again. “Hey…I’m sorry again for going MIA. I just—” She gathers her thoughts. “I should’ve said something,” she added. “You played great the other day, by the way.”

Azzi sat up a little, caught off guard by the statement. “You watched it?”

There was the faintest smile in Paige’s voice when she answered and God Azzi wished she could see it in person. “I did.”

That single admission settled something in Azzi. She pressed further into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight, Azzi.”

The call ended, but the quiet lingered in Azzi’s room. Different now, almost warmer. Like something small had changed between them after the call.

[porcupine-girl]

I gained 20 lbs while on chemo (this is common these days because the antiemetics work well for most people - not everyone, but a lot of people). I was also bloated because of steroids I was on so it looked more like 40.

The two years after I finished chemo I was exercising more than I ever have in my life. I’d decided that now that there were no tumors in my chest and lungs (I don’t even know how long there had been, it was a slow-growing cancer so it was probably several years) I was finally going to learn to jog to help get my energy back. I started super slow - like jogging one houselength out of each block I walked. But I was also stopping at the campus gym on my way home from classes, so I was exercising almost every day and twice a day 3-4 days a week.

I did not lose a single fucking pound. Now, part of this may have been that chemotherapy fucked with my metabolism, but I don’t think it was entirely that, because that shouldn’t have lasted too long.

The bloating eventually went away - after like two years - but I did not actually lose any weight until a decade later (including one pregnancy and 2 years of breastfeeding, which also did not help me lose the pregnancy weight like it does for many people) when I started ADHD meds. Despite the fact that I spent the whole 6-ish years between chemo and pregnancy exercising regularly.

There are a ton of reasons to exercise regularly - it might even help you look more like you want to via building muscle - but it won’t make you lose weight.

Me: Exercise does not cause weight loss. This is a fact that has been demonstrated so robustly in research that even doctors, who hate and fear evidence, are grudgingly starting to admit this.

Someone reading that post: Cool, but have you considered that exercise leads to weight loss?

Me: I am going to eat you

[lucidfairies]

— m'lady [part one]

introduction

synopsis: your sister was in need of something, anything to reel her in, and a handsome new knight was just the one for the job.

pairing: sister's!knight!sevika x queen!reader

warnings: forbidden/off limits, slow burn ish, extreme sexual tension, pet names, heavy pronoun use in the middle (she/her), reader masturbation but in a fade to black way, SO MUCH FLIRTING, eventual smut (see: parts 4, 6, probably more)

wc: 3.5k

a/n: once again I must honor my amazing @sevsgiirl !!!!!! tossing around ideas with them is like therapy. she's the best ever so everyone go show them love!!!

“Sarah,” you said softly, with a gentle rasp at her door, “may I come in?” When you heard her ‘yes’ through the wood, you pushed the heavy material open with Sevika and the other knights at your toes. You had mentally prepared for this moment, expecting lots of glares and snotty comments, and to no surprise, that was exactly what you got. "Sarah, this is Steb, Loris, and Sevika. You have proven that this is the step we need to take to get you into place, and I’m acting on it. I expect respect.”

“All of you can see yourselves out.” She responded, not looking up from her spot at her desk. She was writing something, most likely a letter to another neighboring kingdom. “They’re not staying.” She followed up when the group didn’t leave.

“I don’t remember when you were appointed Queen.” You quipped. She let out a harsh breath and turned towards the four of you. “They will each have an eight hour shift, meaning you will have a knight on duty all day, every single day. It doesn’t have to remain this way if you can prove that you’ve gotten your life together, but you’re nowhere near that point.”

“This isn’t fair,” she gritted out, teeth clenched and jaw locked in anger.

“Life isn’t fair. Loris is your starting knight, as of ten minutes ago. You are the princess of Piltover, and I expect you to start acting like it.” With that, you, the knights, and Elora left the room, Loris taking station outside the door. “The schedule is posted on a script in the gym. While one of you is posted at her door, one of you will be training, and the other will be off the clock.” You spoke to Steb and Sevika as you walked throughout the halls. You had already given the three a formal tour, but you took them back to the training grounds regardless to present the schedule. “Knights will go in the order of Loris, Steb, Sevika, and you’ll go from knighthood to training. That’s all, and you’re free to go to your stations.”

You didn’t wait for a response from either of them, instead turning on your heel and walking back towards your writing chambers with Elora. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the way Sevika’s arms looked in her uniform, or the way she glanced over at you while you spoke.

Sevika would never tell you to your face that you were right. It had only been three weeks, and sometimes she wondered if it was three weeks too many, remembering her life before taking this godforsaken job. Chasing Sarah around was like trying to grab a bar of soap with wet hands - she was quick to slip away, and hard to hold onto when she was there. Trying to wrangle her in was a full time job in and of itself, let alone the addition of security, training, sleeping, and eating. She'd been working double, covering for the other guards as they weren't nearly as experienced as she was. And for you, it was almost torture.

You saw the woman everywhere, especially when she was off duty. It was like she followed you around, and showed up everywhere just to draw your attention away from the things that needed it. She would be in the same hallway as you, walking in the same direction, and happen to strike up a conversation that left you blushing. She was in the kitchen when you wanted a snack, making the whole room laugh, and in the stables helping the coachmen when you wanted a ride. She watched you mount and caught your eye as the horse carried you out of the stable. Everywhere you went, she was.

Though your mind argued, it wasn’t difficult to find yourself attracted to Sevika. Her high cheekbones, dark eyes, wide lips. It all drew you in. But nothing in the world could compel you to act on the attraction, because it was nothing more than that. But, you did enjoy the sight of the curve of muscle in her arm, and the way the material of her pants fit around her thighs.

However, nothing beat the way she looked in uniform.

“Sarah, this is all wrong,” you huffed angrily, watching your younger sister stumble and trip over her own feet as she attempted to ballroom dance with her partner. The boy wasn’t particularly fantastic either, but with a girl in stilettos stepping on your feet and on her own dress, you couldn’t imagine it was that easy to look good. “The ball is around the corner and you’re making your official debut. Whatever this is, it needs to be fixed by the next time I see you.”

It was not on your doc for today to sit through Sarah’s etiquette lessons. She had done them  biweekly since she could walk, and there was no reason she needed a chaperone now. But, because you had put so much time and effort into planning this ball, Elora insisted that you saw the progress she was making. It was important that she wooed the crowd, seeing as she was your successor.

And, well, you used the word “progress” lightly.

Sarah seethed, stomping like a child having a tantrum. “If you’re so sure that I’m doing it wrong, why don’t you do it? Since apparently my sister is the best ballroom dancer on earth, let’s all watch her!” She was being sarcastic, and gestured around the room. The few people that were in there ducked their heads, as if not to embarrass her or you. Well, aside from Sevika. She was looking down and laughing, and you glared at her with daggers in your eyes. “Oh and look, dick rider Sevika is laughing too, why don’t you dance together? Match made in heaven, huh?” You shot up.

“Sarah, reign it in,” you spoke harshly, grabbing her forearm in a tight grip as she flailed. “I will show you how to do it once. After that I expect you to figure out how to do it.” You marched onto the ball floor, looking over at the boy Sarah was dancing with a grimacing.

Before you could join him in a dance, there was a tap at your shoulder. You spun around quickly, and you were immediately met with Sevika. She was smirking as she bowed before you, reaching out to take your hand. “May I?” You looked over at Sarah who encouraged you to take her hand, and to your dismay, you did.

Her hand was warm around yours as you took it, and you could feel each groove of her palm beneath your soft fingers. She tightened her grip around you as she stood, mechanical arm slipping around your waist. You were irrationally tense, so much so that it was almost difficult for you to pull your arm up and drape it over her shoulder.

Subtly, she pulled your body against her own as the music began. Chest to chest, her mouth fell just above your ear, and you listened to her breathing pick up. You spun delicately, trying your hardest to focus on your footing. This wasn't the time to embarrass yourself, especially after all the talk you made earlier.

“A bit tense, aren't we, m'lady?” She whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear as her head cocked to the side ever so slightly. Blush found your cheeks swiftly, and you were sure you got even more tense. “Relax, you're doing great.” You pushed her back ever so slightly, just enough to look at her.

“Cut it out,” you whispered through gritted teeth. The song sped up, and she quickly spun you out of her arms, pulling you back in so that her thick, muscled arm was wrapped around you and her mech hand was tight around your hip. Your back was pressed to her front, the strong muscle gracing you as her heart pounded against you.

“Cut what out?” she chuckled deeply. “For someone who insisted they were so good at dancing, I have to say you're very tight, my queen.” You forgot all of your steps as your brain replayed Sevika insisting that you were tight. “You're doing so good, sweetheart. Need you to breathe.” A chuckle chased her words.

The song ended and you pushed away from her, storming out of the room without even so much as glancing back. Elora was outside, and watched you as you slammed your back against the wall and practically panted. You placed a hand over your heart and a hand on the wall, doing what you could to find your breath again.

“My queen, are you okay? Did something happen?” Elora rushed to you. “Shall I ring the doctor?” You shook your head, unable to meet her eyes. It felt almost sinful, what you just allowed yourself to indulge in. Disgusting, even.

“No, no. I'm going to take the rest of the day for myself. I'll see you at dinner.” You made your way back to your chambers with haste, slamming the door behind you and falling onto your bed. You grabbed one of the numerous pillows and pulled it to your chest as you balled yourself up, screaming into it as your body relived the moments over and over again.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sarah said to Sevika, who was looking at the door as if her gaze would make you reappear. “She's not normally so… jumpy, but I guess you have that effect on her. I also don't think that she has danced with someone since her own etiquette lessons. You didn't do anything wrong.” Sarah laughed to herself and Sevika turned to face her.

“She's been courted, no? Wouldn't that give her a reason to dance?” Sarah's laughs thickened, leaving Sevika to confusion. Sevika scowled, rolling her eyes. “You can't just start a conversation and then laugh at me, princess.”

“I can do as I please,” she shrugged, “however, since you're so kind, I've found it in my heart to tell you that my sister doesn't let suitors court her. To my knowledge, no man or woman has laid hands on her since our father died. She's a prize, in the world of royalty. Kingdom after kingdom have sent suitors, and they all get rejected at the door.” Sevika spent a moment in silence, her mind putting together pieces that were previously lacking.

This was why the queen had no interest in her faux advances. Not only was she unaware of flirting, but she also refused to be courted. This opened something in Sevika, and she was determined to find out why you didn't allow for suitors.

“I see,” Sevika nodded, pensive. “What does she do when the kingdom hosts balls? It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks.” Sarah sighed, as if this topic was strenuous.

“She keeps herself busy. Makes conversation with heads of houses and other leaders. If, by some miracle, a list to dance develops, she sees herself out before she’s had an opportunity to dance with them. As I said, she doesn’t allow herself to be courted, and I doubt she ever will. She’ll die alone, and a virgin.” Sevika chuckled, imagining you at the royal ball approaching, turning down kingdom princes and princesses.

“Nobody with a face like hers dies alone, or a virgin.” Sevika glanced down at her hands, the same hands that held you against her just minutes ago. She didn’t like you, not romantically at least. You weren’t exactly kind to her, and she had been sleeping with a girl at the brothel for several weeks now. She just enjoyed the way it felt to have a body pressed against her own.

However -

The thought of courting you did wander through her mind. Jumping through hoops to impress you, prove to you that, contrary to your belief, she could handle a woman like you. Do anything you wanted, protect you with her life. In an ideal world, if she were to wind up with you, she would be the Queen’s Guard, and be with you all of the time. In true Sevika fashion, Sarah’s comment regarding your purity status had her mind spinning, but she pushed those thoughts away.

But it wasn’t like that, and it couldn’t be. It was easy to tell that you were going out of your way to avoid finding a suitor, and she was your sister’s knight. Therefore, all factors decimated that idea. And, of course, she doesn’t like you.

It took you the rest of the day to build up the confidence to apologize to Sevika. You paced your room intermittently (in between freaking out), planning how you would approach her and what you would say. Her training shift ended after dinner, and you decided to seek her out in the knights’ common room since she wouldn’t be busy. Though, the ‘what to say’ part was still up for discussion in your mind.

Dinner came and went, and you decided that dwelling on what to say wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Unfortunately, it would have to be an in-the-moment thing, or else the moment would pass, and you wouldn’t be able to apologize to her, and that was far worse than embarrassing yourself in front of her once (or twice, if you included every single interaction that happened between the both of you today).

Truth be told, you had never seen the knights’ common rooms. Your knight had no reason to bring you down here, and you had no reason to be driven to the rooms. There were several of them, organized into what knights guarded who. They were like burrows; your knights had a common room and sleeping areas, the princess’ knights had a common room and sleeping area, the grounds’ knights, etcetera.

The room was dim, making the knock upon Sevika’s chamber door even more intimidating. It was just you, insisting that your knight and Elora remain upstairs in the writing room. This needed to be you and her, so that she was sure you meant it.

There was a quick, “come in!” and you pushed the door open, closing it behind you before you had a chance to look up. When you did, the few words you had decided on died in your throat. Sevika was standing before you, back toward you, and you got a front row seat as she pulled her shirt over her head by the collar in one swift motion. Underneath she bared nothing but binding wrap, a usual for female knights.

She tossed the shirt to the side and turned to face you, face dropping into a toothy grin. Her tooth gap met your view, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it fit her face. “My queen,” she said, her grin transforming to a smirk at the look on your face.

Your eyes were shot, trying to find a spot to look that was anything other than her, or her shirt on the ground. Your cheeks were most definitely redder than they had ever been, and you felt as if you were glowing with how warm they were. But, what intrigued Sevika the most was the part in your lips, and the way your chest rose and fell with belligerent haste. You were thinking of her and she could tell.

She allowed herself to tip against a poster of her bed, arms crossing over her chest. “Lucky you caught me, I was about to take off my arm,” she joked. “What can I do for you?” It took you a moment longer than it should’ve for your brain to click back into place.

“I, um,” you swallowed harshly. “I can come back another time if you’re busy,” your hands were sweating mercilessly. “Or if you want to take off your arm.” She snorted, laughing with a shake of her head.

“Now’s fine, pretty.” She was most definitely Pavlov-ing you somehow, with all of these little names, and the way she was saying them. The way she said it, made it feel like it was yours - there was no way to move on from that, or come back from the way it made you feel. Nobody else could call you pretty now that she had, or refer to you as their lady now that she had.

“Okay, well, I w-wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have rushed out like that. I had to attend to- to some business.” She pushed off of the wall and took a few steps closer to you, making you step back until your back was pressed against the door.

“Business, of course,” she said with a smile. “Your sister says that that was the first time you’ve danced since your own lessons. I must say, you did a fantastic job, sweetheart.” You briefly scowled at the idea of Sarah spreading your private information to someone that was basically a stranger to you.

That idea made this entire thing worse. This woman was essentially a stranger, and yet her words and actions were taking an affect on you in a way that nobody else's ever had. No suitor, no man from the street, no woman at the brothel. And you hardly knew her. Your mother would have an aneurysm if she were here to see this.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You said, weakly. She was so close now. You could practically reach out and stroke her cheek if you wanted to. But that would be terrible, gross even. All of this was terrible. You could be planning for the ball, and instead you were here, allowing this to happen. Indulging in it.

“Well my queen, if you don’t need anything else, then you should allow me to walk you to your chambers,” she reached around you, large body caging you in. “A pretty thing like you needs her beauty sleep.” You were surely suffocating between the door and her body. You looked up at her, and driven by something in your mind, you lifted up on your toes and-

The door clicked open, and shifted behind you. With deep embarrassment, you slipped through the cage of her arms and out into the common space, cool air hitting you and bringing your facial temperature down, thank god. The both of you made it back to your quarters quickly and silently, seeing as you were far too embarrassed to hold a conversation.

“If you find yourself without someone to dance with at your fancy little ball, you can always come and find me, m’lady. Sweet dreams.” She winked and strode off, making your head absolutely spiral.

There were things that needed to be done. The education budget needed to be finalized, and the caterers for the ball needed an official date. Not to mention you had been requested to a new elementary school’s opening, and asked to read a book.

But right now, right now. All that mattered was the way your skin burned where Sevika touched it hours ago, and the way her words felt as they were poured over you, like she wanted you. Like you were some sort of prize, exactly where she wanted you. No matter how terrible it was, no matter how much needed to be done, all that mattered right now was Sevika.

Laying back on your bed as your mind wandered miles, you couldn’t help but run your fingertips along your skin, grazing your nipple over your night dress. It was frustration, really. You would never get off to the thought of a stranger, especially someone on your staff, that was so close to you and your family. You had to wonder, though, what the cool metal of mech fingers would feel like against the burning skin of your nipple, or what her mouth would feel like replacing it.

And, well, the thoughts didn’t halt when your fingers slipped into your underwear, or when you came, messy and sinful all over your hand.

taglist: @lovinglynny @ferxanda @lilithyys @ayooooohush @jiungmcvv @yoursimhannah @tigerbat @armeenix @mommymilkers0526 @unadulteratedcoffeetastemaker @inyavika @acidblum @everegretseverything @nerddivision @reneesub @trvpstvrkai @noirotakusstuff @rhian88

[purplereina11]

Alexia’s brain 100% short circuits seeing readers abs 😭

Funny you should say that, I've wrote the middle of the next part randomly haha

Sneak Peak under the cut

The front door swings open, keys clinking into the ceramic bowl by habit. Alexia exhales, the quiet of the house greeting her like a warm tide. She drops her gym bag just inside the threshold and kicks off her shoes.

“Hola!” she calls, voice casual, unsure if you’re upstairs or out with Teddy still.

She’s halfway through tugging off her sweatshirt when she hears the soft sound of bare feet padding down the stairs.

She glances up and freezes, because there you are.

Hair still damp from the pool, hoodie slung loose over your shoulders and unzipped all the way revealing your bikini. Legs bare. Skin kissed golden by the sun. And that easy, slow smile playing at your lips, like you know exactly what you're doing.

Alexia’s hand falters in her sleeve.

“Hey,” you say, leaning lazily into the bannister.

Alexia stares for a heartbeat too long. Then blinks. Then forces a smile that’s a little too tight around the edges. She goes to say something, anything, but instead, the keys slip right out of her hand and clatter to the floor.

“Hi,” she says, voice about half an octave higher than usual.

You smirk. “You okay there, champ?”

“I—yeah, I just…” She gestures vaguely toward her gym bag, like that explains anything. “Didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you were still out with Ellie.. and Kika apparently”

You tilt your head. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”

Her eyes do a quick circuit, collarbone, boobs, abs, the line of your thigh, back to your face. She tries to act like she didn’t just get caught, but her ears are pink. “No,” she says, too fast. Then clears her throat. “I mean, no, it’s nice. You're here. That you're… here. I did ask you to be here after all”

You step down another stair, slow and deliberate. “Want to join me out back? The water’s cool.”

Alexia looks at you like she’s buffering, a blink, a small nod that doesn’t lead anywhere. “I should probably shower first,” she mumbles, eyes absolutely not dropping to your chest again.

You lift a brow. “Or… skip it. You look clean to me.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, like it might help her focus. It doesn’t. She meets your gaze and tries for something casual, something easy, but it comes out breathy and a little too soft, “Are you trying to distract me from something? Did you break something?”

You’re at the bottom step now, in front of her, hands tucked into your hoodie pockets, gaze locked with hers, calm, unreadable, dangerous, “Only if it’s working.”

Alexia exhales a short laugh caught somewhere between flustered and surrendering. Then, helplessly warm, “I'll meet you out there, I'm going to grab a drink”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It's Mother's day in several occasions and I have had friends doing photoshoots or candid pictures and all of them have something in common: an effort, even if it was smaller, even if they didn't have the big studio or the "special" picture.

They all were clean, and hair was washed. The picture she posted looked like the kids were playing on random clothes and she said come here, let's take a picture and you can have your fun.

A Latin mom would have never posted that. Because it's not the best representation of their kids. I know perhaps I am biased, but my biggest issue with her is that she didn't have to post the pictures, but considering she does, she could do her best to represent them in the best way. I am just starring at thar picture and wondering where did the money and alleged attention to detail went.

You're mixing up Meghan's personal brand and her professional brand.

Meghan's personal brand is exactly this: casual, laid-back, easy breezy, barefoot and relaxed. Her hair's thrown up, she probably doesn't have makeup on. It's simple, it's "nothing else matters when I'm with my family."

Meghan's professional brand - As Ever, the podcast, her speaking engagements, the philanthropy, Invictus appearances - is the complete opposite. It's fussy, luxury, business. Her hair's done, her makeup's done, she's completely dressed.

It's completely fine she does this. Most of us are different people "off the clock" than we are at work, and that's what this is. I think what throws a lot of people (especially non-Americans) off about this is that Americans get really casual in our downtime, more than a lot of other cultures and people expect. We do dress up and we do clean up, but it's usually done with specific purpose and intent - to go out for dinner, to go to a friend's party, to go to work, for a night out, for an event. If we're just hanging around the house (or a friend's house) or just running errands around town, in most cases, we're very casual - sweatpants, jeans, t-shirts, pajamas, gym clothes/athleisure, outfits better found at the beach or poolside.

[aleatoryw]

the guy on the left obviously does some level of working out, sports, etc, but he looks like he would go out to dinner with you and not complain that everything has too many carbs. he would skip the gym to go on vacation or take your kids to piano practice or out fishing. he probably has hobbies outside of working out, even if they're just playing video games or watching movies. maintaining a body like the one on the right is almost a full time job, and just like anything else you can do to or with your body, changing it to look like that sends a signal. to many women, that signal is "my looks are my highest priority (and I probably expect yours to be too)". also yeah looks like he'd feel awful to cuddle with.

i think the reason a lot of men are screaming, puking, and crying about this is bc it forces them to acknowledge that the reason they can’t get women to like them is not actually bc of their physique but bc of their shitty personality

[fanfictionsweetheart]

Spoiled

Pairing: Seth Rollins x Reader

Summary: (Name) was spoiled, there was no denying that. Seth spoiled her. He tended to show his love with his money. And she was very, very loved.

Trigger/Content Warning(s): smut, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, slight daddy kink, masturbation, squirting

Word Count: 2837

A/N: I read a Fic by @spiicii (I hope you don’t mind me tagging you) that made me love the idea of Seth spoiling his lover like this. I think there’s potential to this idea/plot I’ve set up in this Fic, might do more.

Waking up to the sun pouring into the large main bedroom was something (Name) would never be used to. Living in a deluxe penthouse apartment with her lover and boyfriend brought about so many new experiences. The first of which was living in a deluxe penthouse apartment.

She stretched, as she sat up. She’d woken up alone in bed this morning. Not the most unusual occurrence. Even when he was in town, Seth went to the gym first thing in the morning. He did his best to not disturb her when he would slip out of their shared bed before heading to work out for a couple hours in the private gym in their building.

(Name) rubbed her eyes before slipping out of bed herself. She grabbed her fluffy robe off of the bench at the end of the bed. She walked through the apartment to the chef’s kitchen. She stared in awe at everything once more. He’d just had it renovated for her. Running her fingers over the butcher block countertops she made her way to the refrigerator.

Seth wasn’t home now, but one look at the clock told her he would be home any minute. And after the gym he would take a shower. So she began to take things out of the fridge to make them both a hearty breakfast.

Seth walked into the place he had bought for his sweet (Name) to the smell of bacon frying. He grinned, she was far too predictable. But he liked that about her.

He had put this place in her name even though he had paid for it and nearly every new thing in it. She had chosen it after all. It had been an anniversary present when he knew that they were in this for the long haul. He insisted that money was no object in this case.

He wanted her to have a place to call home. He hated the idea of her renting a tiny place that didn’t match with how grand she was. He peeked into the kitchen as he headed towards the stairs to head up to take a shower after his usual workout routine.

(Name) had heard the door and Seth’s footsteps and smiled as she continued to work on their breakfast. Sautéing some mushrooms and onions to go into her omelet.

She liked this routine that they had when he wasn’t traveling.

She had just finished plating up their individual omelets when Seth made his way back down the stairs. He was dressed in some lounge pants, that probably cost more than her prom dress had, and a t-shirt. Even when he was relaxing at home he looked fashionable.

“Right on time,” she teased.

Seth chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple as he joined her at the table in their little breakfast nook. Even though the kitchen had been renovated and the appliances updated, the style she had wanted was a more cozy look. Not streamlined. He liked that about her.

She hadn’t given up on who she was even with access to his money.

“You know some people would say you were crazy for not letting me hire a chef,” he teased.

“And why would I do that?” She asked him, smiling before taking a bite, adding after, “I like cooking and baking. It would have been a waste of money.”

He nodded, “And I like your cooking,” he added.

(Name) smiled at him, she looked at him with affection most of the time. He liked to spoil her with his money, but she felt most spoiled when he spent his time with her.

“What do you want to do today, sweetness?” He asked, using his favorite term of endearment for her.

“I’m not sure, honestly I’d like to stay in, I haven’t had you to myself in months,” (Name) said honestly.

He’d been working round the clock pretty much, traveling to a new place every week. (Name) usually traveled with him a few months out of the year. But due to a broken ankle she hadn’t been able to during their original schedule. She hated flying in a cast.

“Well, I’ve got a couple weeks while I heal from that muscle strain,” He winked about the injury that had been written into the show that was WWE for him so he could rest before his next big storyline was supposed to begin, “If my baby wants to just stay inside today we will.”

(Name) smiled at him before looking down shyly. Sometimes it was hard to remember a time before Seth Rollins came into her life. Before he decided she would be his everything and swept her off her feet. Spoiling her nearly rotten with designer bags, jewelry, clothes...supporting her hobbies and allowing her access to the kinds of things she could only dream of.

Taking her to restaurants that she only used to read about in magazines.

But more than that...loving her.

These elaborate gifts were his way of showing his affection.

Spending money on her made him happy.

It was crazy to (Name) who hadn’t had anyone want to treat her so well before. And it made her uncomfortable at first. He had to ease her into accepting the gifts he wanted to shower her with.

“I was thinking of starting to sell some of the jewelry I make,” She said after a moment of thought, it was her main hobby and she had so many pieces that she didn’t really wear but were still too good to break apart and reuse the beads, “Like online.”

“You could,” Seth said, he would always support her no matter what, “You want to pick and choose a few pieces later and start to figure out what you’d want the site to be called?”

“Maybe,” (Name) said, “Like I said...I’d like to spend most of today with you.”

“I can do that with you,” Seth chuckled, “You know I'm the most fashionable man in the WWE.”

“More stylish than most of the MET Gala in the past few years,” (Name) joked, “They should just get over themselves and invite you.”

“You know I would kill it,” Seth laughed.

(Name) giggled and nodded.

They finished their breakfast and Seth insisted on cleaning up so she could go get herself ready for the day. Even if they were staying in.

He pressed a kiss to her temple with a grin before she left the kitchen.

(Name) had to laugh to herself when she looked at the dresser full of her loungewear. T-shirts and comfortable pants. She grabbed her favorite leggings and an oversized shirt, perfect for a comfortable day at home. It was one of his merch shirts, of course. Maybe it was subconscious or maybe she just wanted to tease Seth.

Or maybe it was because she had every single shirt of his released.

She got dressed and headed back downstairs to find Seth in the living room, lounging on the couch, waiting for her. She made her way over and slipped into his lap rather than sitting beside him.

Seth grinned and wrapped an arm around her.

“Clingy today,” He teased.

“I missed you.” She told him simply, turning her head to press her lips to his, “It gets lonely around here when you’re gone.”

“Maybe I should get you a dog,” He joked.

But he was serious if she wanted a pet he would help her find the perfect one. He wanted her to be happy. And definitely not lonely when he had to work and she couldn’t come with him.

“Maybe,” She said, she would love to have a dog again.

At her last apartment she couldn’t have pets and she missed having a furry companion to keep her company.

Seth handed her the remote to pick a show or movie to watch to start their day. (Name) thought about it for a moment before deciding that since she had him pretty much all to herself for the next couple weeks it was the perfect time to binge one of her favorite shows with him.

She opened Hulu and typed in the first word of the series, ‘Sons…’, with a grin.

When the first episode started she settled into his hold with a smile she knew he would like the show if he gave it a real chance.

—

After a couple episodes (Name) got up to get them some snacks together to continue their lazy day together. She could think of a few other things they could be doing, but they didn’t allow her to stay in his arms the entire time.

She settled back on the couch with a bowl of popcorn for the pair of them while cuddling into his side.

These were the moments she felt the most spoiled. When he spent the entire day with her. Just doing typical couple things like binge watching a show together.

Their time together was more valuable than any gift he could give her.

—

The day rolled on while they lay together on the couch. Ordering dinner in and just enjoying each other’s company.

They turned her show off after dinner and (Name) headed upstairs for a shower. She had been shopping the day before and bought something new to wear just for Seth.

She cleaned herself up and was blow drying her hair when she heard her boyfriend enter the bedroom. She smiled to herself. She wanted to show him her gratitude for how much he spoiled her.

She set her hair drier down and pulled on a new sexy lingerie set that she had bought to wear for her man. Lacy and a sweet, soft pink color. Practically corruptible. His favorite way for her to look.

She fluffed her hair into a perfectly messy look and spritzed on her favorite perfume. Even topping off the look with some pink lipstick that suited the look and mascara...not waterproof...he liked to see the results when they were together.

After slipping the satiny robe she had bought in the matching color she opened the bathroom door to find Seth lounging on the bed, his shirt discarded. She had to stand there for a moment. His body was something special. The definition of his muscles even as he lay in bed was perfection.

He was so strong.

So powerful.

And she couldn’t help but shiver.

Seth looked up when he realized that she hadn’t come right to bed and the sight of her standing there like that, leaning against the doorframe, long legs leading up to a short hemmed robe. He could only imagine what she was wearing below the robe. A dark, practically lecherous, grin spread over his lips.

“Whatcha got under there for me, sweetness?” He purred, setting his phone aside.

She smiled coyly and undoes the loose bow that she had tied into the robe, “I might have bought something special for you to enjoy tonight, Daddy,” she cooed.

That had Seth’s entire attention now. He knew just what kind of mood she was in when she called him that. He sat up, the gleam of lust in his eyes practically predatory now. He licked his lips and let out a groan as she dropped the robe, revealing the sexy and sweet lingerie she had bought.

“What do you think, Daddy?” She purred.

“You look fucking delectable,” Seth growled and motioned her over, “Get over here and show Daddy just how much you missed him.”

(Name) obeyed eagerly. But she still did her best to keep that sexy sway to her hips as she did so. Wanting to tease and entice her man.

When she was standing in front of Seth on his side of their king sized bed his hands quickly found purchase on her hips. He looked up at her, eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re a filthy fucking tease, you know that babygirl?” He growled.

“Only for you, Daddy,” (Name) murmured and rested her hands on his shoulders before dropping to her knees eagerly in front of him, “Let me be good for you tonight,” she breathed.

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised her gently and gently stroked her hair.

(Name) smiled at the praise and helped him out of his lounge pants and underwear before settling back between his knees, kissing his inner thigh submissively. He never made submitting like this feel like an obligation, she wanted to. She enjoyed it just as much as he did.

“Gonna open your mouth for me?” Seth asked with a wicked grin spread over his face.

“Yes Daddy,” (Name) chirped and let her mouth fall open, sticking her tongue out teasingly.

Seth rested his hand on top of her head, a subtle urge for her to begin. So she took some initiative and leaned in to teasingly lick along the underside of his cock. She moaned at the taste, she knew it was taboo, but she loved giving head. Especially to the man she was kneeling in front of right now.

She set her hands on his thighs as she continued to tease him. Her skilled tongue tracing over his cock like it was second nature.

She took the tip between her lips and slowly began to smooth them over the head, suckling just so to earn a shiver and pleased moan from her lover. Seth was very vocal in bed and she relished in that. She loved that she knew just how to get these reactions from him.

She began to take more of him into her mouth, sucking and teasing the sensitive flesh with her tongue. Seth flexed his fingers in her hair a bit, urging her on.

“Good girl,” He growled.

She took more of him inside and began to bob her head. Sucking him off just like he liked. Moaning around him. Her pussy wet with desire. She slipped one hand into her pretty, lace panties to begin teasing herself while sucking Seth’s dick.

He groaned at the sight, “Such a perfect slut for me, so good...you love sucking my dick don’t you baby?” He growled.

(Name) just moaned around him and kept bobbing her head back and forth. Taking more and more into her mouth until she had nearly all of his length in her mouth.

“Just a bit more, you can take it,” Seth encourages lewdly while grasping her hair, giving it a slight tug.

She whimpered and did as he said, forcing that last inch into her mouth, gagging slightly as usual. She could handle it, he was right. And she loved to handle it.

She held herself down on him for a moment before pulling back to begin bobbing her head again. Burying two of her fingers into her pussy while she did so.

She held her head down again once she caught her breath as best she could. Gagging and moaning around him.

She was fingering herself all while she was gagging on his cock.

She pulled off once more, sucking him more. This was probably the sloppiest head she’d given in a while and she loved it and could tell that Seth did as well. His groans were feral sounding and only served to turn her on more.

When she pressed herself back down once more Seth’s hand tightened in her hair to keep her there. “Look at me,” he ordered her in a slight snarl, he was close.

Her eyes flicked up to lock with his and he let out a low growl of a groan as he came hard down her throat. She moaned and swallowed every drop.

He let her pull off of him and lean back, so he could see her finger herself to completion. She may still have her panties on but he could hear and see how wet she was.

“Oh fuck...can I cum Daddy?” She whimpered.

“Cum for me, ruin those pretty panties I paid for,” he growled.

(Name) let out a whine as she came hard, a fish of liquid between her thighs was she soaked her panties just as he wanted her too.

She pulled her hand out of her panties and Seth grasped her wrist to bring her hand to his mouth so he could suck her sweetness off of her fingers. He never passed up the opportunity to taste her.

After he was satisfied he let her pull her fingers from his mouth. He urged her onto the bed and into his lap. One of his large hands cupped her cheek sweetly.

“You know that I love you right?” He asked, his voice soft.

He always asked that after even the lightest of intense moments. It was his way of assuring her that she was his equal. His love. His queen.

“I do, Seth, and I love you too,” She murmured and leaned in to press her lips to his.

He may spoil her with his money then fuck her like a toy...but he loved her. And she loved him.

[sunarots]

guys my age ━━━ sakusa kiyoomi

05. first ‘date’ jitters ♡

You wrap your cardigan tighter around you, an attempt to protect yourself from the cold air. Too scared to go in, you pace back and forth down the walkway towards the gym despite the pain you're getting from the boots you chose. Though you have an urge to sit down and rest, you'd rather not sit on the bench occupied by a very handsy couple. You've been waiting for ten minutes, the time growing nearer to the reservation, and a part of you is doubting that Sakusa's going to show.

Just as you're considering phoning him to double check, booming laughter fills the street from behind you. Sure enough, Sakusa walks in front of three other men, as if desperate to get away. He stops at the bottom of the steps to look for you, tensing up when the three men start shouting excited greetings at you.

Unsure of how to react, you awkwardly raise a hand to wave at them before making your way over. While you're still too far away to hear, the blond one roughly hits Sakusa's back and laughs. You stop in front of them and go to speak, the blond one speaking first.

"Look at our Omi-Omi! He's so grown up, going on a date! Make sure ya take care of him, he doesn't do this often," he jabs, resting an arm on Sakusa's shoulder. Sakusa shrugs him off and rolls his eyes, stepping away from his team and closer towards you. "So, are ya gonna introduce us?"

Sakusa takes in a deep breath. "Y/n, these are my idiot teammates. Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou, and Hinata Shoyo." He gestures to each one as he speaks, all of them giving you wide smiles. "This is l/n y/n. Are you ready?"

You nod your head, waving at his teammates before following Sakusa towards his car. You look down at your outfit, starting to regret your choice. "Sorry, I don't know if I'm dressed appropriately if the restaurant is a fancy one..."

He gives you a once over, shaking his head. "You're fine." He takes out his car key and unlocks it, dumping his bag in the back seat.

You try your hardest not to let your intimidation show on your face as you slide into his car. Even though you already knew he was a famous athlete, and therefore completely loaded with cash, the idea never really settled in your mind until now. You lean back in the cushioned leather seats, admiring the spotless insides. If it wasn't for the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, you probably would've thought it was brand new. Sakusa settles in beside you, waiting until he's hooked up his phone to the stereo before starting to drive.

You spend the majority of the drive in silence, the only conversation being when a CORPSE song starts playing through the stereo when he pulls onto the street of the restaurant. "You like him?"

Sakusa frowns, glancing at you. "What?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you roll your window back up. "I just didn't peg you as a CORPSE fan," you say with a small smile, trying to stop yourself from laughing.

"What's wrong with liking CORPSE?" he asks, pulling up in front of the valet and starting to climb out of the car.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it, I just didn't expect you to be a fan." You give a small smile to the man working the valet, following Sakusa inside of the restaurant.

He adjusts his mask over his face as he leads you towards the hostess. "Table under Sakusa for two. I called to say we were going to be late."

She nods her head, flashing you both a smile. "Of course. Come with me, I'll show you to your table." She takes you to a table by a window, setting the menus down at either of your seats before leaving you both alone.

You open the menu, taking in a deep breath as you scan over the different options. You leave it open in front of you whilst taking off the woollen cardigan, hanging it on the back of the chair. You pick up the menu, as though holding it at a different angle would help you read the kanji.

"Everything okay?"

You look up to see Sakusa looking at you from the other side of the table. "Um... There's no furigana, I can't read the menu," you admit quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh. Well, what do you like to eat?"

You let out a heavy sigh. "Um... Ramen. Oh, hot pots."

Sakusa scans the menu and nods his head. "They have a beef hot pot." You nod your head, closing over the menu and thanking him.

"Can I take your order?"

You both agree, ordering your food and then asking for drinks. Sakusa asks for alcohol free sake, passing his menu up to the waiter who turns to you. "Could I get a gin and lemonade, please?"

"Can I see some ID?" You nod your head, quickly pulling out your license and showing it to the waiter who frowns. "Are you sure you're twenty?"

The slight embarrassment you felt turns into annoyance. "Would you like to see my passport? I left it out in the car, but I can always go and grab it if you'd like me to."

The waiter glances at Sakusa before shaking his head, handing your license back to you before grabbing your menu and heading back to the bar.

Sakusa quirks an eyebrow at you. "Did you really leave your passport in the car?"

You shake your head. "No, but it's a good way to get them to listen. I learned it last year when I... Um, never mind." You catch the way Sakusa looks at you as he removes his mask. "What? Everyone drinks underage at least once."

"Not in bars," he points out, folding his mask and setting it at the side of the table.

You laugh, the conversation easing off and the two of you falling into a silence. Even after the drinks are brought over, neither of you can find anything to say. You flinch when your phone starts ringing behind you, apologising to Sakusa before answering it with a hushed voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Hirano. Have you heard from Kae lately? Or seen what she's posted?"

You furrow your eyebrows, ducking your head from Sakusa. "No, I've not spoken to her since our fight. Why? What's she posted?"

Hirano clears his throat. "Yeah, um... She's reposting things about safe sex and friends abandoning her."

Your jaw drops. "She's what? Hang on, I'm with Kiyoomi. I'll call you when I get home."

You hang up the phone, but your eyes stay still on the screen in front of you. You scroll through your twitter, frowning when you spot Kaede's posts that are so clearly aimed at you. It takes everything in you to not slam your phone on the table, instead lightly dropping it face down and taking a long drink from your gin.

"Are you okay?"

You're about to nod your head when his words from the other day come to your mind. Honesty. With a sigh, you slump back in your seat. "So, I obviously told you I was quite...active over summer, right? Well, one of my best friends, Kaede, is a sports science major and she loves all kinds of sports. When she found out we were... She started talking shit saying that you wouldn't sleep with me if you knew I slept around over summer because you're a germaphobe, implying I'm some diseased pig. And then she said that my twitter bio says I'm a whore. Obviously that's a fucking joke. Saying shit like we couldn't be less alike and acting like you could never even like me." You lower your voice before adding, "And I know that we're not really together, but it still hurt. She was acting like I'm just some- some unlovable, diseased hooker. Which I'm not by the way, even with..."

Sakusa's eyes have widened over the course of your rant, trying to take in all the information you've thrown his way. He watches until the very end, when you slump back against your chair with red cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from," you apologise, picking up your glass to take another drink and cool yourself down. You set the glass back down, taking this opportunity to look at Sakusa.

He's got his hands clasped in front of his face finger running up and down his chin. "We need to take pictures to post of each other, or else Aoi will be on our backs."

Smiling a little to yourself, you pick up your phone. "Good point."

masterlist. previous | next

summary. sakusa kiyoomi, middle blocker for the famous msby black jackals, is known for his clean reputation, never drawing attention to himself through scandals. ever since joining the jackals, he's kept himself out of the headlines unless over something good. that is until he drinks a little too much and finds himself in the news for going home with someone he doesn't know.

taglist (30/50). @kawoala @kozu-chan @mayyhaps @jayathelostdragon @vi0let-writes @lavender-pink-socks @kodzumicyy @alcyneus @fi-chanwrites @mdmraz @uhsakusa @sophiahearttss @jnfectedz @ascebel @glads-stuff @freakypickle @anonymity-222 @aldebrana @shozuken @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @followingmysunsposts @v3nusplanetofluv @wakashudou @sexylexy12 @nanasrkives @cloudtato @yuminako @soobinsbreadscrumbs @lover-no-lover61 @bloodb3nders

[gutsheapofrawiron]

adding on to the binggeyuan political streamer x hater au, I can't pick between these two options of what'd be funnier:

bingge experienced a complete 180 on his political views post-Meetcute, like after bumping into shen yuan in that grocery store he just goes 'yeah no actually everything he's ever said is correct' and becomes a full-on outspoken leftist (for the peach), regularly sending superchats engaging in the conversation on-stream and lowkey becoming a known chatter in the community (he makes sure to delete his previous account, scrubbing all the content and creating a new one with a clean record, re-subbing to shen yuan with that one), posting about whatever on the forum and being the first upvote/like on every edit or gifset that's posted there (it becomes an inside joke in the community that you can summon him just by editing cat ears onto any photo of shen yuan).

not only does he turn his life around politically, shen yuan's criticisms of the right-wing streamer's lack of personal hygiene and dogshit living standards get bingge to go through a huge 'glow-up', finally cleaning his nasty badger's nest of an apartment for once, cleaning himself up as well, learning grooming tips and tricks via the internet, and he manages to find a routine for his hair that works, turning a rat's heaven into what we know and love as his luscious, long glossy locks.

he already was obsessive with watching all of shen yuan's streams before obviously, but now it's a different kind of Enrapturement in which he starts to actually take note of the tidbits of information shen yuan divulges about his personal life now and then in between topics, also memorising whenever shen yuan usually takes his meds and sometimes even sending a superchat/donation to remind him when he either forgets or procrastinates taking them on time. shen yuan, when he gets these donations, is always very much like 'oh you really didn't have to spend money to tell me that are you crazy!! fine i'll take them, i'll take them!!' huffing and puffing, continuing: 'thank you but seriously, i'd rather people donate to causes that actually need it. here's a few fundraisers…' (he's blushing and avoiding eye contact with the camera but his hand is reaching for his meds while he's talking regardless).

and then one stream shen yuan admits that his diet isn't very good (read: absolutely terrible) after chat calls him out on the 4th cup noodle manifesting mysteriously in his hands during one 7 hr stream, and bingge decides ok no. and with resolve he gets up (after the stream ends) and begins teaching himself how to cook! and this continues where shen yuan isn't really taking care of himself properly in certain aspects and bingge just decides to 'git gud' and get his shit even more together so he'll be worthy of shen yuan.

he stops surviving off of takeout and frozen meals himself, his skin is now glowing and he no longer has vague ailments plaguing him. he started going to the gym and already had to size up his clothes twice since. he's become everything he thought he hated, but he feels better than ever and has an actual purpose in life now (meeting shen yuan a second time and NOT fumbling it again).

all that OR:

bingge holds onto his right-wing sentiments for a while longer even when he makes it his mission to worm his way into shen yuan's personal life (he's parasocial as fuck in both options, go figure), so he'd be in immense internal conflict with shen yuan being the pinnacle of all that he 'despises' (woke leftist, absolute beta chud with not even a sliver of muscle mass going on under those (weirdly high-quality and well-fitting) clothes of his, still somehow popular w/ the ladies but he doesn't even seem to know? (probably gay AND a bottom)) while simultaneously foaming at the mouth wanting to push this nerdy radical twink up against the wall and snatch his glasses and hold them up so high he wouldn't be able to get them back and watch as he would get himself all worked up and frustrated and then bingge would take that opportunity to pull him up higher by his shirt and push his knee in between his thi—

either way bingge does end up meeting shen yuan and becoming involved in his life, whether that's through becoming such a notable chatter that shen yuan ends up inviting him onto the stream, stream/live bombing (what's it called again? i forgot) when shen yuan's doing a rare stream out and about somewhere or going to the next con shen yuan'll be a guest at after the one he had to... ahem, take a rain check on. just know he'll find a way.

[kiskivmiske]

This. Exactly that.

I also begged mom time and time again to please PLEASE buy me boy clothes. I had handmedowns from my dad when he was a kid and they weren't half as comfortable as girls clothes.

But mom was pretty conservative at the time and would be afraid to buy boys/unisex clothes. She was scared I'll be perceived as a lesbian/transgender and asked me on multiple occasions if I like girls. I had to wear stupidly thin tees with dumbass lettering like "I'm allowed to do it, I'm a girl" (translated from Russian, "мне можно, я девочка", a popular phrase implying that women are forgiven weaknesses because they are a weak gender) "little angel" "baby". Aha, little angel baby 170 cm 75 kg beating grown up pedos, lmao.

I was never morbidly obese, but I was 5-20 kg overweight on different stages of life. (Except for the time I tried to lose weight to make a boy like me, and it turned out he was just hanging out with me because I was a pushover and did things for him like homework or art, he ended up with a chubby girl, I ruined my health and it's all for nothing) Never, even when I was starving myself and lost 25 kg in three months, NEVER did I have my clothes sitting comfortably.

I am fat not because I play CS or LoL 24/7 in my gaming chair (advertisement goes here), I just have a messed up eating schedule where I go all day w/o food and eat in the evening. I spend most of my free time walking around the woods, gathering berries, shrooms, herbs, rafting, swimming, rock hounding, etc. And I demand good quality and fit from my clothes. And girls clothes never allowed to move freely. Winter coat wraps around my legs so I can't make a big step to climb a small rock or get over a fallen tree. I don't even feel safe, because, if I need to run, my legs are half tied.

Pants with ridiculously thin rubber make marks on my belly, I can't lift my arms without my shirt creeping up my torso all the way to my teets. Every single time in gym I had to stop and adjust it so my belly isn't constantly exposed. I had to buy new shirts every two months because they were so thin, normal exercises overstretched them. You don't need infinity stones to snap them out of existence.

I accumulated some lunch money and secretly went to buy a new shirt. In men's section. It was the most comfortable shirt I had since I've grown out of dad's. My boobas are quite large, but still it fit me perfecly (probably because designed for broader chest) It served me for two years at school and four more as a hiking shirt (because it had a few stains but still held itself together).

Mom didn't notice anything and I continued to buy men's shirts, then pants. One time my mom came to me and this interaction happened.

"Where did you buy this shirt" (shows her shirt to compare) "I need something for work that isn't so thin. You can even see my bra through it. Look how thick this (on my shirt) fabric is, I need one."

"In (the market)"

"I've been there recently and didn't see one"

I pause "It's uh in men's section"

Mom, without a pause: "You go past (the market) every day, can you get me one?"

Mom also noticed that my shirts take MUCH longer to rip, stretch or wear down and since then didn't say a word about me buying clothes that aren't my gender. The only clothes for women I wear is a swimsuit, panties and a fedora.

(I do realize that maybe there are good women's shirts, that don't go in landfill after few months, but I never has access to them because of my income and location)

I also had permanent scars from wearing rubber boots and had trouble explaining my family I wasn't stuck in a bear trap. But that's another story.

Women's clothing sucks. And I now firmly believe that one of the reason women are more obsessed about their weight is because of clothing. Growing up I mostly wore mens/boys clothing and I never had to think about size, waist, etc. The clothes won't hug my thighs in the sense that would make me conscious of them while moving. If the waist was too big id grab a belt. Plus the design of pants and tshirts was pretty standard.

Now during my late teens, early twenties i started going towards more women's clothing. Because i felt I had to look more feminine. And HOLY SHIT. It sucked. BAD. First the material. Its so bad and thin and cost more than guys clothes. No standard Tshirt fit, everything has a different shoulder to chest ratio. The pants are either too tight, hug your ass and thighs too much or are too baggy to be comfortable. And the waist. Holy shit. Ive been underweight till I was 23 (medical reasons). And I didnt have a lot of problem with the waist thing then (see where this is going) but the moment I kicked my illness and gained weight and got into normal weight range, dude the waist thing became a big issue. FIRST of all. For guys the waist end at waist, the hip bone area. Not for women. Most clothes go above the hip bones, some even over the belly button. If the thing feels right standing up, youll suffocate sitting down. And even if its elastic waistband, its sitting on your stomach, it does not have a bone to support it and it feels uncomfortable. (Maybe I have some sensory issue, I don't know about yall but I dont like being conscious of clothes sticking to my body). And now to the main point. I never had any issue with waist being uncomfortable when I was underweight or when I wear boys pants (really pants made for boys get more humanly consideration than women) and the moment i got into normal range, the womens pants saying they are my waist size fit pretty snug and tight around my waist, ass and thighs. But still till this day I never face this issue with my boys pants. Today while trying on some pants that my mom gifted me that said their waist was a size bigger than mine I found then uncomfortable and started thinking should I lose some weight? And that fucking blew my mind because I am already thin and in a pretty normal range of BMI. Those clothes feel comfortable as long as you are underweight. That is insane. Seriously. Ladies if this the case with you all. Or maybe some of you. Ditch the women's section. If you are short like me, go for the boys section or else mens. These fucking clothing sizes and designs are not made thinking of your comfort in mind. Now im gonna go to the store and exchange the pants for some boys khaki pants.

I think this is just one face of how the system is designed to make you feel uncomfortable and doubt yourself. You see how much waist room guys get? We are the same species after all. What the fuck. Do you make different size clothing for male and female cats or monkeys? No fucking other species have such a wide difference in body shape than what humans are told we have.

[inkbyme]

If you’re taking requests, if not that’s fine because I didn’t see a yes or no.

May I please have the MHA guys with a buff reader, preferably afab (assigned female at birth but gender neutral). Like reader is simply jacked and loves working out?

༊*·˚ MHA Characters When Their S/O is Absolutely Ripped ༊*·˚

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya ✧ Katsuki Bakugo ✧ Eijirou Kirishima ✧ Shouta Aizawa ✧ Hanta Sero ✧ Hawks ✧ Tenya Iida ✧ Shoto Todoroki ✧ Denki Kaminari ✧ Present Mic ✧ Neito Monoma

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Strong, bold, and absolutely unstoppable—here’s how MHA boys would handle being in love with someone who could crush them (lovingly).

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Izuku Midoriya

• Absolutely floored. The second he sees you bench press something heavier than All Might’s career, he’s in awe.

• “W-Wait! How much weight was that?! Do you track your macros? What’s your split?!”

• He gets so nerdy about it. Not in a weird way, just pure admiration. You’re basically the embodiment of “smash,” and he’s here for it.

• Tries to work out with you once. You lap him. His arms are shaking. He’s beet red. He writes about you in his notebook under “Physical Prodigy”.

• Lowkey tells everyone “they could totally go pro in hero work with their strength alone.”

• And when he’s holding your hand and feels the muscle flex? Dead. Man. Walking.

⸻

Katsuki Bakugo

• His ego barely survives your first training session.

• “Tch. That was decent form—for a showoff.” He says that while secretly planning to copy your leg day routine.

• He loves it though. No cap. Especially when you lift him up during sparring or piggyback him with zero effort.

• He’s definitely not saying it out loud, but he thinks your power is hot as hell.

• The minute someone underestimates you in battle, Bakugo’s immediately like, “You picked the wrong f**king person.”

• He refuses to let you carry groceries though. “You already carry this relationship, nerd. Lemme do something.”

⸻

Eijirou Kirishima

• INSTANT RESPECT. BRO ENERGY ACTIVATED.

• The moment he sees you bench more than him? He’s yelling, cheering, pumping his fists like a proud gym bro.

• “THAT WAS SO MANLY—Wait, sorry! I mean—UH, STRONG! BADASS! YOU’RE AWESOME!”

• Constantly asks to train together. Wants to be your spotter. Will 100% make you protein shakes.

• Every time you flex, he’s blushing and looking away like “I am NOT simping rn… Okay maybe I am.”

• Loves how strong you are, emotionally and physically. You’re his ideal.

• Keeps bragging about you to others like, “Yeah, my partner can probably lift a truck. No big deal.”

⸻

Shota Aizawa

• Doesn’t react much outwardly—just raises an eyebrow the first time he sees your workout.

• “Huh. Impressive.”

• But trust, he’s noticing everything. How you move, how efficiently you conserve energy, how precise your lifts are.

• Appreciates it because he’s all about practicality. You’re strong and smart about it? Yeah. You’ve got his attention.

• Silently proud when you disable a villain in one move. Leans over and mumbles, “Remind me not to piss you off.”

• He lets you take point during missions more often than not. It’s his quiet way of saying, “I trust you.”

⸻

Hanta Sero

• Bro is SHOOK the first time he sees you lift something twice your size like it’s nothing.

• He immediately blurts, “Okay, wait—are you secretly a pro wrestler or…?”

• Sero’s super chill and goofy, but there’s this lowkey admiration in the way he watches you train.

• Always cracking jokes like “Guess I’m the one getting carried in this relationship—literally.”

• But behind the laughs? He genuinely loves how capable and powerful you are.

• Gets extra protective when people make dumb comments like “Shouldn’t you be less muscular?”—nah, he’s instantly stepping in.

• “Don’t talk to them like that. They could fold you, and honestly, I’d let them.”

⸻

Hawks

• Tries to act like he’s chill about it, but the second he sees you pick up a villain and slam them like a sack of potatoes? He’s swooning.

• “You ever consider hero work full time? I could recommend you, y’know. Perks include looking fine while saving the world.”

• Loves that you’re strong enough to toss him around—jokes about it constantly.

• “Hey, if you ever wanna throw me across a room for fun, I’m down. No safe word needed.”

• Total flirt about it, but underneath? He’s genuinely impressed and obsessed with how capable you are.

• Will absolutely brag about you during interviews without naming you directly. “Strongest person I know? Yeah, I sleep next to ‘em.”

⸻

Tenya Iida

• Buff reader? He is shooketh. Immediately launches into admiration mode.

• “Your physique is incredible! Do you follow a specific regimen? Is it Quirk-enhanced or pure effort?!”

• Probably starts working out more just to keep up. “As your partner, I must strive to match your level of excellence!”

• Gets a little flustered when you carry him bridal-style—like, his glasses fog up.

• Deeply respects your discipline. Like, seriously. He sees it as heroic in itself.

• He’s always offering to assist in your routine—hydration checks, cooldown stretches, structured meal planning. Boy treats you like a top-tier athlete.

⸻

Shoto Todoroki

• Blinks. Quietly processes.

• “You’re very strong.” And he says it so sincerely it makes your brain short-circuit.

• Offers to spot you during workouts even though you clearly don’t need it. He just wants an excuse to be close.

• Gets kind of hypnotized watching you train—especially if your form is flawless.

• When someone questions if you’re “too bulky,” he calmly says, “Their strength keeps them alive. That’s beautiful.”

• Your strength makes him feel safer. You’re the only person he doesn’t try to shield in battle—because he knows you don’t need it.

⸻

Denki Kaminari

• Full-on jaw drop. He’s short-circuiting from how cool and attractive you are.

• “WAIT—YOU’RE BUILT BUILT??” followed by him poking your biceps and whispering, “…hot.”

• Denki is the biggest hype-man. He’s taking gym selfies with you flexing in the background like, “LOOK AT MY PARTNER THOUGH!”

• Asks if you can lift him like a princess. When you do, he screams and blushes at the same time.

• Super supportive and genuinely loves working out with you, even if he’s nowhere near your level.

• He’ll jokingly ask you to open jars for him, but it’s also 20% serious.

⸻

Present Mic

• OH HE’S OBSESSED.

• “YEEEOOOOHHH, LOOK AT THOSE GAINS!!” This man is LOUD with his admiration.

• Makes gym playlists just for you. Hypes you up so much while you’re working out that people stare.

• Thinks you’re the most badass human alive and tells everyone. “My partner could deadlift YOU, Aizawa—just sayin’!”

• Absolutely down for couples workouts. Posts on his social media like: “Power couple energy? ACHIEVED!!”

• But on a real note—he respects the discipline and strength behind the muscles. Deep down, he loves how passionate and driven you are.

⸻

Monoma

• OH. HE’S SO JEALOUS AT FIRST.

• “Tch. Of course you’re unnaturally strong. Probably from showing off too much.”

• But after sparring with you and getting absolutely humbled? His tune changes.

• Secretly adores your strength and talks about you constantly to Class 1-B—just pretends it’s complaints.

• “It’s not like I LIKE that they can carry me bridal style! But if I did, it wouldn’t be your business.”

• Gets real flustered when you help him train. Can’t handle how cool you look while lifting.

• “Y-You should tone it down. Or don’t. I mean—ugh. Shut up.”

Apologies for the delay! University exams are having me fighting for my life, but your request never left my mind. Thank you for your patience.

Let me know if you have any feedback or if there’s any warnings I need to put on my post. I am always open for requests as long as I know the characters! I hope you enjoyed reading this!

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Summer's A Knife ☀️❤️‍🩹

Just a silly Mother's Day something xx enjoy 🤍

The sun is tickling her eyes through the large kitchen windows, and she stops to close her eyes to soak in the warmth of this moment. With her sticky hands, she manages to let her sunglasses drop from her head onto her nose as she keeps adding blueberries on top of the muffin dough. She quickly washes her hands in the sink before carefully placing the tray in the heated oven. For a second, she opens the massive fridge on her right and takes out two of the watermelons he bought last minute this morning.

“Trav?” she yells, hoping he’s made his way out of the shower already. No answer. “Travis?” “Yes?” he yells from afar, and she can already hear from the low razor noises that Mr. Clean is busy fixing his beard that he got cut just last week. He’s not vain, not even in the slightest. But he likes to take care of himself, likes to make sure he looks and smells his best. And she appreciates it. She appreciates it more than she ever thought she would.

“Did you order some baguette with the snack platter? Or should I unfreeze some bread?” He doesn’t react, and she can already tell that the distance from the main kitchen up the stairs to the master bedroom is too much for him to have a proper conversation with her. She starts walking toward him. “I did not understand a single word, babe. I’ll be down in a minute,” he just yells back, but Taylor is faster than him and meets him in the doorframe between the hallway and bedroom. With her white sundress, she just remains standing there, smiling at him. With nothing but a towel around his waist, he stands in front of the mirror, looking at a red spot on his neck. In contrast to him, Taylor is all ready for the day, wearing minimal makeup and her hair naturally curly around her naked shoulders. As every morning, he went to the gym again, working hard to be in the best shape of his life by the end of summer. She looks at him through the mirror, her small arms wrapping around his handsome waist before she presses a natural, quick kiss onto his naked back.

“Whatcha doin’?” she murmurs, almost flirty. But then she sees the abnormality on his skin. Her hand has now found the red spot on his neck he seems to have been investigating before.

“What’s that?” “I got a rash. No idea from what,” he mumbles. With an overly concerned look, she places her hands gently on his skin. “Itchy?” “Yeah.” “I think you have a reaction to the new dryer sheets we got,” she says, trying to find an explanation for his skin irritation. With a concerned look, he looks into her face now. “Since when do we…?” “I always use them for kitchen towels, but I saw that Gaby used them for our bedsheets the other week.” He sighs, washes his hands, and seems relatively uninterested in his rash again. “Okay, I’ll get some cortisone cream at the facility tomorrow,” he mumbles, and Taylor grins. This man and his sensitive-ass skin. “Babe, when you ordered the food earlier, did they say if the dips come with some baguette or bread rolls or something? I’m wondering if I should…” “Yeah, of course, it’s plenty of food. I ordered way too much for the four of us,” he says. He was just about to walk past her, but remains standing in front of her, a grin on his face. “No more making food, Tay. We already got way too much,” he says, knowing damn well that she’s probably already made five other dishes that go well with the catering he ordered earlier to ensure she won’t have too much work for this day. After all, it was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday. Both of their moms are coming to spend Mother’s Day by the pool with them. Just a sweet and short family get-together before the two of them will get back to what they’ve been doing all spring long: Travelling the world together. Working from everywhere. It’s been a bliss. 

“Okay.” She grins, still standing right in front of him, looking up at the tall, naked man in front of her. His hands on top of her shoulders caress her slightly and he leans down to steal her a gentle kiss. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” he says in a low voice, and it makes her smile. “You like my dress?” she asks rhetorically, knows exactly that he’d find her handsome even in a trash bag. She pretends to do a little spin with her cotton dress and black sunglasses in her hair, knows how ridiculous the situation might look to a stranger. Him in nothing but his wet towel. Her pretending to be a barefoot princess. Just a normal day in their current bubble. “I love it,” he smiles, and she knows he means it. She can still see it in his eyes, every day. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s the first person to ever truly make her feel this way.

“I’ll just go cut some watermelon now, and then we’re all set up outside. I opened the pool deck earlier. Hope that was okay?” she says, having now slowly left the bathroom with him and watches him drop his towel before reaching for underwear and some clothes in the closet. She bites her lip once while looking frontally at his lower half. The view never disappoints.

However, Travis just turns around and gives her a look. He didn’t really appreciate her words in this moment. “Tay, stop this nonsense. You live here, too. Don’t ask me if you can open the pool deck,” he says, and she rolls her eyes and nods. She’s gotten a lot better at not questioning his generosity anymore. She doesn’t know why, after almost two years, she’s still a bit hesitant at times. Maybe because in the past, it was almost always her who was the one with the fancy house. Maybe because she’s still getting used to someone opening their house for her. “I’m just… I’m just saying. I opened the pool deck. Also, can you come downstairs and open the parasol? It’s too hot downstairs.” He nods, smiles at her gently. “I will. Go cut your melon and then sit in the sun for a bit. Chill, woman,” he teases, and she nods with a grin. He’s right. She’s been running around nonstop this morning.

With a smile on her face, she slowly makes her way down the staircase again, meeting Benjamin halfway, who happily lets himself be picked up. She carries the little cat back to the living room, placing one last kiss onto his head before she lets him run to his sisters. She looks outside at the poolside again. The dining table looks perfect and she adores the new sunbed cushions that Travis’s assistant picked up for them the other day. The midday sun is reflecting onto the pool. Never did she ever think that she’d feel so much at home in this place. Kansas City, Missouri. One of the last places she ever thought she’d call home.

As she arrives in the kitchen, she reaches for the large glass filled with ice cubes and her iced coffee from earlier, and takes a last sip before cutting one of the massive watermelons in half. 

It takes five minutes, and only a few seconds later until he hears a loud scream, and an equally loud bang in the sink. Within a second, Travis reacts—he’s dropped the parasol next to the pool house and sprints into the kitchen. “Tay? What the…” “Oh my God, oh my God. I… I accidentally cut myself and…” “Fuck,” he mumbles, feels a bit lightheaded himself the second he sees the puddle of blood in the sink. She instinctively turns on the cold water, lets her injured thumb cool down under the stream. He knows she’s not squeamish when it comes to kitchen-related injuries. But the look on her face and the fact that she can’t dare look at the injury herself makes him understand that she is, in fact, in a lot of pain. “Baby, what did you do?” “I… I was cutting the melon and suddenly I… I think I cut my thumb in half.”

Travis carefully looks at her thumb and the sight also makes his stomach churn. A good majority of her nail seems to be cut in half. He has no idea with how much strength she must have cut this fruit, but it surely managed to seriously injure her. “It hurts so much, it hurts so much. Oh God, I can’t look at it. I think I’ll be sick,” she panics, and he can see in her face that she’s close to tears. “Baby, this looks deep. I think we should call a doctor to check this out.” She nods, her eyebrows raised and her chest heaving. “Let me get my first aid kit and I’ll call Alex. Are you fine to stay like this? You’re not lightheaded, are you?” She shakes her head with a brave face, and Travis realizes in this moment that the soft spot he’s got for her that exceeds his wildest expectations. He feels her pain, in this moment. The look on her face, breaks his heart. Like a wimp, he places both his hands on her bare upper arms, then presses a bunch of big kisses onto her temple. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine. I’m right here. We’ll take care of this,” he mumbles, and she takes a deep breath, trying to tell herself that it’s time to be a grown-up. She carefully looks at her thumb as she feels Travis walk away. She can already hear him on the phone with her assistant as she looks at her bleeding thumb. It looks bad—really bad—and the second she realizes that half her dress is stained with blood now is when the tears come streaming down after all. Why does this always happen? Why is she so clumsy that half an hour before her guests arrive, she manages to cut her finger in half? How is she supposed to hold a guitar next week? The inconvenience of this situation gets obvious to her just now. “Yeah, it looks really bad. Can you call Brendon and tell him to let them in? Thanks.”

With a thankful look on her face, Taylor focuses on the man who stands behind her at the sink now, his iPhone on his head, the other hand gently around her waist. She realizes in this moment how nice it is to have someone to handle things. Someone who cares. Who’s a responsible partner. She doesn’t need to be strong all the time. Sometimes, she can let him take the wheel and sit back for a moment. “They called an ambulance and they’ll have a look at the thumb, babe.” “An ambulance? Is that really necessary? It’s not like I’m dying, and surely there are other people who really need a…” “Sweetie, there’s a lot of blood in my sink right now. I won’t drag you into the heat outside for you to get an infection in that dirty-ass hospital,” he counters quickly, and she nods, appreciating his concern. 

“You let me know if you get dizzy, right? Don’t want to have you pass out.” he mumbles into her side, and she nods. A bit useless, Taylor just stands there, looking at her thumb and almost feeling a bit dizzy by the amount of blood that’s coming from the cut right in the middle of her nail bed. She appreciates feeling his arms around her, his head gently between her shoulder and head, and the gentle kisses to her side. God, it’s nice to know he’s here. Nice to know she’s got a shoulder to lean onto. “It was the stupid Japanese knife set you got me. So basically, this is your fault,” she mumbles, her voice still whiny, and he doesn’t blame her. He can’t imagine how much pain she’s in right now. This is not how their Sunday was supposed to go. Another kiss is planted onto her shoulder, two warm hands holding her from behind. “I’m so sorry, baby.” She can’t help but smirk for a second. She can’t believe he’s going along with her accusations, but it’s just an example of the level of patience she’s grown accustomed to when it comes to him. Endless patience. She’s got no idea how he does it. “It’s not your fault, I’m just being a baby. Sorry.” she mumbles then, her nose sniffy. His hands gently run up and down her arms while waiting. “You’re allowed to be a baby right now.”

A few minutes later, her security, along with two men from KC General Hospital, enters the kitchen, and Taylor gratefully shows them her thumb. It takes less than a few minutes for them to determine that she needs to accompany them to the hospital, as she most likely requires a few stitches. With a brave face, a blood-stained sundress, and a large bandage with disinfectant mesh underneath, Taylor makes her way to the ambulance with the two men. Travis quickly runs water through the blood-stained sink while calling his mom to explain why she and Andrea will arrive to an empty house—before leaving with the blonde in the ambulance.

___

One hour and forty-five minutes later, the big door to the pool terrace opens, and two pairs of eyes meet a couple of worried mothers. With the ugly bloodstains still on her dress, Taylor gently hugs her mother, wishing her a sarcastic “Happy Mother’s Day,” a last crocodile tear still streaming down her face. Her thumb is casted in a huge bandage, some mascara still visible on her cheek. Travis, with all the paperwork from the hospital in his hands, gently hugs his mother as well before explaining to both of them how their sunny summer morning turned into a little nightmare. This is not how this year’s mothers day was supposed to go. Not at all. But Taylor knows she’s lucky. On so many levels. “So did they give you stitches?” Andrea asks worried. She nods, still a bit too shaky from before. “They removed her entire nail basically,” Travis says, his hand gently on her back again. “Oh my goodness,” Donna just says, looking at the big bandage on Taylor’s hand. “They gave me an injection to numb the entire hand and then this guy was like taking a scalpel and… I couldn’t even look,” she mumbles, still in horror of before, her mother already covering her mouth with her hand in shock. “Honey, why the fuck would you cut a melon with a Japanese knife?” Travis can’t help but grin gently. He knows where Taylor got her quick-wittedness from. And he also knows that she won’t like her mother’s statement, even if there might be some truth to it. “Have you seen this huge-ass melon? There was no way I could’ve cut it with a regular knife. So…” Travis can already feel the tension radiate from his girlfriend, and he’s not going to allow this day to get any worse than it already has been. “She took it like a champ, though. I probably would’ve cried my eyes out, but as always, she’s been an absolute beast about it,” he says, his lips finding her head again. The slight smile on her lips makes it clear that she appreciates this little bit of support from him. This is what he always does. She’s never been with someone so unapologetically, ridiculously committed to being on her team—no matter how trivial it seems.

“Thank God Trav was with me. He also offered to donate one of his nails.”

Travis can’t help but laugh gently. Both Andrea and Donna look up at them in confusion. The afternoon sun is starting to heat up the poolside of his house.

“Travis did not do that,” he says quickly, and Taylor playfully pretends to be offended.

“The doctor basically said he’s not sure if the nail will grow back naturally, so…”

“Tay, that’s not what he said,” Travis interrupts with a grin.

“Well, he said he thinks it should grow back normally, but there’s never a guarantee. So I asked if there was a way to just get one of Travis’s nails implanted instead. And they said that in some cases they actually do nail transplants. Because I’m really worried that if it doesn’t grow back properly, I’ll be the weird woman with the weird thumb playing guitar. But Trav said he won’t give me one of his nails, and honestly, that’s been pretty shocking to me.”

Taylor says it with such a serious tone that even Donna and Andrea burst out laughing.

“Tay, I told you I would literally give you a kidney. Or a lung. Anything you’d need to live.”

“Oh, but not your nail? Look at your hands—just a clean cut on your left index finger and…”

“Tay, you’re not getting my nail.”

She just looks at him, laughing, trying her hardest to act serious.

“So this is where your love ends? Wow.”

“You guys are killing me,” Andrea says, laughing, and Travis just shakes his head in disbelief before stealing Taylor a grinning kiss.

“I think you’re still high from the painkillers. Why don’t you guys sit down, and I’ll go check on the food and drinks?”

Taylor strokes his stubbly cheek with her other hand one last time and nods. A gesture to show him that she was just joking, and she does, in fact, appreciate him more than he could ever know. 

But truth is, she’s exhausted. Her left hand is still numb, and she feels a bit lightheaded after the ordeal of the past two hours.

“Thanks, baby.”

Within seconds, Donna and Andrea urge Taylor to stay comfortable on one of the sunbeds in the shade. She sits down, grumbling a few times that she should change—after all, she must look disgusting in this dirty dress. She had so many visions for this beautiful summer day in May. Mother’s Day. She got balloons, both of their gifts to their mothers are still inside. But instead, she’s now handicapped, spent her afternoon in the ER and welcomed their guests in a stained dress. She sighs. 

There’s nothing else she can do now. 

After a few moments, she then slowly relaxes, her pulse finally beginning to settle again. She listens quietly to her mom and Travis’s mom talk about their trip, and how the KC sun is so much more intense than New York’s. She watches Travis on the other side of the patio setting up the catering at the table with the guys who brought the food he ordered.

Beneath the pain in her thumb, she feels such deep gratitude in this moment, watching him tell the catering staff in the nicest way possible to please plate the food on one of her porcellain dishes in the kitchen. Just because he knows that she wants things to look pretty. Just because he knows, it will make her happy. 

Once more, Taylor feels this warmth around her. This is who he is. This is who she’s with now. A real… man. Someone who really protects her. Handles a situation. Takes care of things. All while being the kind, empathetic, funny man she loves so much. Something she always knew suddenly hits her like a wall of bricks, just in this moment while watching him roam around the table: If there ever was to be a world in which she was meant to be a parent, this is who she’d want to do it with. Only him. 

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Me as a Pokemon trainer

Featuring my beloved Samurott

[emotionlcss]

if she had been anyone else they would've been naked and rolling around in his sheets ages ago, but it was different, and she was different. and chase hadn't needed to try to pull any moves, or get her clothes off to have a good time. he was enjoying actually getting to know her beyond just the homework, and he found himself having a better time than he ever would have thought at the start of this. ❝ i'll let you be my sugar mama anytime you want. ❞ he grinned, his arms loosening around her as they got comfortable, and because he'd wanted her to know that she could roll away from him if she wanted to, that she hadn't needed to stay on top of him, even if he did like that. ❝ you'll know when the time is right for you. i can't tell you how your first time will actually go, and honestly, probably should have waited for mine. i was young, it was awkward, fast, weird in a sense, but it's over now at least. ❞ chase shrugged before realizing the last of his words. ❝ not like, thank god its over, happy i rushed through it. but like, i don't know - you'll just know when you want it to happen. ❞ he quickly added, hoping she'd accept that and not be offended.

as her hands ran along his chest chase had to admit to himself that it felt nice, having her there, the way her fingers seemed to explore over his bare chest, muscles taunt under her touch. it was something he could get used to happening over and over again, though he also knew better than to get ahead of himself. this was just supposed to be a show for the public, but then why was he so relaxed up here too, in the privacy of his own room? they weren't putting on a show anymore, not up here, and he was flirting with her, privately and publicly. ❝ maybe if you had a little more muscle you could've pulled it off, but that's something we can work on in the gym if you really are looking to kick me out of bed. but remember, i'm warm, i can help keep you warm, and my bed is so comfortable. i can't imagine that you'd want to leave or kick me out. sounds pretty rude honestly. might wanna keep me around just cause you're nice. ❞ 

Okay. She really wasn't that great with boys but it really did seem like Chase was flirting with her when he mentioned her walking through that door, too. And then he only clarified himself. But maybe she was thinking too much of this all, maybe Abigail was feeling this kind of way because they were just really great in the game they played. Maybe. She couldn't help but feel a little fuzzy and warm inside because of it. "I can be your hot sugar mommy, that can be arranged." Abby said with a small smile. "What is it supposed to be like, though? I mean, sure - I want it to be with a nice guy and slow and respectful but I'm not sure when it is ever a good time." she shrugged slowly.

Abigail squealed when he so easily moved his arms around her and pulled her down against him, laughing in the crook of his neck as she struggled to get out of his grip. The dark blonde gave up the struggling soon enough, face turning up to look at him while her hands came to rest to his chest. She could have sworn she felt something rushing through her when she noticed just how close his face was to hers now. Her soft fingertips very lightly brushed to the skin of his chest, feeling just how muscled he was. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She played, though the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth were evident that she knew exactly what she was doing. Her heart was beating faster now, eyes pinned on his as she spoke. "You have to admit, I was doing quite a good job but then you had to come in with your big arms and stuff." She mumbled, chuckling once more. "Not too uncomfortable, I must admit. You're warm."

[perilegs]

i think it's unfair that anxiety can cause an upset stomach. why are you doing all that.

[davidsgalleryatcrepuscule]

As you can see, it seems as though leather used to be more popular in the 80s, (and of course in previous decades) then in popular culture it sort of went out, and grunge and a sort of "heroin chic" came to be. I wonder if that was the end of that cultural movement. I really wonder what happened to the whole notion of greasers and bikers, I think rap and hip hop also became really common.

I wonder what it would be like back then. During my younger years, it seemed like most people from kind of unprivledged backgrounds were often into rap and hip hop and dressed to varying degrees in association with those subcultures, either that or they were sort of alternative and found many of them into metal. Growing up a lot of people were into metal but I was more into indie rock, punk, progressive, with the heaviest bands I listened to regularly being like led zeppelin and sound garden. But it was like this weird thing back then, with what I found to be this almost exclusive adherence to metal. It was kind of annoying because I listened to almost everything, and found them pretty close minded. You would think people who like metal would be close brethren since metal is considered alternative, but yet I didn't really find it to be the case. I'm not realy sure how to define this sub strata of people I encountered, but I found the metal scene kind of macho pig headed, but there were true genuine metal heads who were really alternative and had long hair and didn't genuinely think I was weird. But there was that strain of metal heads that liked the Scandinavian and European strain of metal, I found them equally closed off and judgemental. But interestingly enough in Seattle I went to a tavern that had music bands playing, it was called the Kraken. I think it had those type of Scandinavian metal, roots and it gave off the vibe that it could have been somewhat white nationalist, yet the bands playing were a wide variety of genres and not just straight up "metal" and the people there were the least non judgmental people you could encounter. Some of the men were wearing dresses though, it wasn't a gay district, it's just that Seattle is really liberal. It makes me more curious about America and it's culture, if it's common to like a wide variety of music and not only freaking metal or rap and hip hop.

In the small rural area I used to live, it was mostly metal there too, and I think rap and hip hop, but the popular kids listened to alot of hair metal and music from the 80s for some reason. But it was a little different because people didn't dress in or follow trends or identify with subcultures. In fact, a lot of people wore almost exclusively carharts, and worked labour jobs in the summer as teenagers. There wasn't really any culture. They Grew up, and the vast majority of people I went to school with went into labour/blue collar types of careers, but I think some of them didn't even go to tradeschool, these were the popular kids, they were the closet to being school jocks or what have you who would pick on and bully other kids and spent lots of time at the gym.

I wonder how it would have been in an earlier decade, if there was more comradery between people, what that would have looked like, I'm using the working class predominantly as an example. If there was more or less violence, the hip hop/rappers kids I knew, a lot of them were in petty gangs for an example. I wonder if there was less crime. I guess I just wonder about the history of all of that and how it fits together. They all probably would have splintered off primarily from the greasers and beatniks, unless there's something not regularly known about.

I suppose there was always kind of social school socialites and the kind of preps as a demographic and cultural.

Need You Tonight - INXS

Original footage vs. final video