#like instead of saying i’m going to sleep i just say going to sleep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvergirl-866 · 4 hours ago

Text

i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim 😣. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

#lilah’s works #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #crack fic #uconn wbb #wcbb #late v day fic #pazzi are everyone’s parents #what even is this

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overadores · 18 hours ago

Text

･ ⟢ ⋮ love last ゛༝. ✦ megan skiendiel

You know me well

pairing.ᐟ megan skiendiel x reader

about.ᐟ a sorrowful story of love, sacrifice, and time’s relentless passage, this tale follows two childhood friends whose unbreakable bond grows into something deeper, but as dreams take flight and distance pulls them apart, unspoken words linger—until one fateful night changes everything.

genre.ᐟ heavy angst. hurt, no comfort.

cw.ᐟ major character death, car accident, language.

wc.ᐟ 1229 words

a/n.ᐟ i promise you this is the last car accident story i have, a honorable mention for this lovely song which i highly recommend to listen if yall want to hurt like i did while i was writing this.

It's almost like you love me, I can tell

Have you ever sacrificed everything—your life, your entire world—just to see someone smile again?

Just to remind them that the world isn’t as dark, as empty, as it once seemed?

You did.

It was the summer of ’03.

You were just a kid back then, thrown into the same cabin at summer camp as a stranger, forced into the same space. Megan was a whirlwind of energy, the kind of girl who couldn’t sit still for a second, who danced instead of walked, who laughed at everything and anything at first, she drove you crazy. She was loud, she was hyper, she didn’t know how to read well, she struggled with spelling—but none of that seemed to stop her.

And yet, despite all that, she could read you like an open book.

She tried her hardest to write you letters, struggling to spell out your name, rewriting words over and over just to get them right. She toned down her energy whenever you were too exhausted to deal with it. She listened when you were upset, curled up beside you when homesickness hit, stayed by your side whenever the other kids played their games.

Somewhere along the way, Megan stopped being just an annoying bunkmate.

She became your second home.

You wish you had told her how much that meant to you.

But summer doesn’t last forever. When it ended, you went your separate ways—her on one side of the country, you on the other. The first few weeks were the hardest. You missed her more than you expected, missed her laughter, her warmth. But distance wasn’t enough to break you. You called, you messaged, you sent letters. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.

You kept this going for years, even into high school.

That’s when you started to realize something was different.

At first, you told yourself it was just a silly crush, something fleeting. You thought maybe it would fade.

You were wrong.

The moment you got your own phone, you were talking constantly. Calls, FaceTimes, texts—it never stopped. Megan always found a way to call, even when she was busy. And when you finally learned to drive, the first thing you did was go to her.

You drove miles just to see her smile.

You sacrificed sleep, time, money—anything, just to be there for her the way she had always been there for you.

And as you grew older, as you stood on the edge of adulthood, you realized something that terrified you.

You loved her.

Not in the way kids love their childhood best friends. Not in the way people expect you to love a friend you’ve known forever.

You were in love with her.

But you never told her.

Not even the night you made your pinky promise.

That night, you took her to your favorite place in the world, the first person you had ever brought there. Megan had never looked happier. Then she took you to hers. You sat together, watching the sun set, golden light painting her face like a dream.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you,” she had said, turning to you with that soft, radiant smile.

You wanted to tell her then.

You wanted to say, Megan, I love you.

But all you could say was, “And I’m lucky to have you. I hope we spend more days like this, together, until we die.”

She laughed, holding out her pinky. “Then let’s pinky promise on it.”

You hooked your pinky around hers, sealing a promise you didn’t know you would break.

Then came the day Megan called you, her voice thick with tears.

She didn’t get into her dream university.

You didn’t even think. You just grabbed your keys, got into your car, and drove straight to her house.

When she opened the door, her face was streaked with tears, her shoulders shaking.

“Megan, darling, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms. She buried her face into your shoulder, crying so hard you could feel your heart breaking.

“But I really wanted to go there,” she sobbed.

“I know.” You held her tighter. “I know, love. But it’s their loss. You’re an incredible dancer, and if they can’t see that, they don’t deserve you.”

She sniffled, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “You always say the right things.”

“I just know you.”

To cheer her up, you took her to her favorite place, bought her ice cream, snacks—anything to see her smile again.

A week later, she called, screaming into the phone.

She got accepted into Dream Academy.

You were beyond proud of her.

But then came the worst part.

She told you that you had to cut contact.

The academy had strict rules—no outside communication, no distractions. You understood. So, you let her go.

You waited.

You watched her from a distance, following every update on her journey. When the finals came, you knew—you knew—she would win.

Then, two days after the announcement, your phone rang.

It was her.

“We can finally celebrate,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Come over?”

You laughed, already grabbing your keys. “I’m on my way. Get ready.”

She giggled. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

That was the last thing she ever said to you.

The roads were nearly empty that night.

You were driving, one hand on the wheel, the other checking your phone at a red light. Megan had sent a text.

Meg: hurry uppp, im waitinggg >:(

You smiled, typing back a quick reply.

You: five minutes, i promise.

You never made it.

The light turned green. You started driving again.

And then—

A flash of headlights.

A deafening crash.

Everything slowed down.

You felt the impact before you even realized what was happening.

Pain.

So much pain.

Your thoughts blurred, fading in and out, but you still saw flashes of your life.

Your parents.

Your childhood.

And then Megan.

The girl who was waiting for you.

She was probably texting you again, telling you to hurry up. Probably fixing her hair, too excited to sit still.

You wanted to tell her you were coming.

You wanted to tell her you were sorry.

You wanted to tell her—

I love you.

But you never got the chance.

They say when someone dies unexpectedly, there’s a moment—just a moment—when their soul lingers.

Long enough to see the aftermath.

Long enough to see who mourns them.

You don’t know if that’s true.

But if it is, then you know exactly what you would’ve seen.

Megan.

Sitting in her room, waiting.

Checking her phone every few minutes, frowning when you didn’t respond.

Calling you, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Then, the next day, the call she never expected.

A voice on the other end, telling her the news.

You can imagine how she reacted.

Shocked.

Denial.

Then, the tears. The way she must’ve curled up in her bed, crying her heart out.

The way she must’ve whispered, No, no, no, they promised. They promised we’d have more days together.

The way she must’ve broken, knowing you never got to celebrate her win.

Knowing you never got to say goodbye.

Megan, darling.

You hope she knows how much you loved her.

You hope she knows how much you sacrificed for her.

You hope she knows, even in your final moments—

You were thinking of her.

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altacctforastarion · 2 days ago

Text

The Orange Peel Theory

Astarion x reader, no pronouns, no y/n, no warnings for this one.

Crack fic treated seriously. It was supposed to be kind of angsty, but I made myself laugh so it’s really just fluffy humor now.

You’re not really a fan of the newspaper after your encounter with the people who distribute it trying to ruin your reputation, but the kid just looked so disappointed when you said no to buying one, and really it’s not expensive, so you go back and tell him you changed your mind, and he was so convincing and good at his job while you pay him and take it with you on your way back to Elfsong. The fight with Orin had left your group a little worse for wear, so the group unanimously agreed to take the day off.

It was early morning still, some fog still lingering in the eerily empty streets, and you really don’t like that the city is this quiet, despite hating how loud it usually is, but you needed supplies and with some healing potions and food in your pack you were happy to go back to the tavern and relax with the others. Or at least Astarion in your private room, though he may still be trancing when you return. You’d placed a note on your pillow, just in case he woke up and came looking to save you from some unknown danger with the others in tow. Though, your group half-asleep running around the town like lunatics does sound like an interesting morning, and you laugh to yourself just thinking about it.

When you get to your room Astarion is still trancing, and you throw away the note before climbing into bed with your newspaper, and after awhile you’re about to toss it to the side, sick of reading about nasty rumors written about people who obviously didn’t just sneak in and change the paper like you had, when something catches your eye.

It’s an article that explains “the orange peel theory” stating that if you ask a man to peel an orange for you and he doesn’t your relationship isn’t strong. You’re sure the article means well, maybe it’s even helped some people, but Astarion watches your back in battle, is rude to everyone but you, steals things to repair or replace with something better, and shows you every part of him. He doesn’t need to peel an orange for you to prove he loves you.

You laugh quietly, and put the newspaper off to the side before curling up in bed and getting more sleep. Usually you’d curl up with him, but you don’t want to wake him, so you keep your distance.

—

When you wake, curled up on your side facing Astarion, you’re met with him staring at you. You jump, surprised, but calm down quickly, this is normal for him, watching you sleep and not having the sense to move away when you start to wake up. What’s unusual though, is that he looks slightly afraid? You can’t really tell, not a happy look though.

“Astarion? What’s wrong?”

“I’d do anything for you.” He says, reaching for your hands, one of his holding both of yours.

“I- thank you?” You’ve no clue what he’s talking about. He’s acting so strange, you’ve never seen him this way before.

He finally stops his staring, getting out of bed and leaving the room. You sit up, confused and alarmed, thinking of following him but then you hear banging on the door to the room next of yours, where all of your companions are and decide to see where this goes.

“Astarion? Why are you-“ you hear Gale as he opens the door, and then some scrambling in the other room, along with some of your companions asking Astarion what in the hells he’s looking for, or just groaning as their sleep is interrupted. “Are you mad? You could have just knocked and asked, you know. Instead of whatever this is.”

“Shut up, Gale. I’m making a point.” You hear your partner growling out the words, and then he’s opening the door to your room again, with something in his hand.

“Astarion! Will you please tell me what all of this is about?” You demand answers, and maybe later you’ll demand he apologize to the rest of your companions, but for now you just need to know why he’s worked himself up this much.

He sits on the bed next to you, not answering and not looking at you, too focused on whatever he has in his hands.

Oh. He must of read the paper.

It’s an orange. And he’s peeling it, carefully, as if disarming a trap. You watch him wordlessly, as he’s slowly peeling this orange that’s caused so much havoc.

When he’s done, he delicately takes one of the pieces off the fruit and finally looks at you, as he starts moving the piece towards your face, “I’d peel an orange for you. You didn’t even have to ask. Now open your mouth.”

You don’t, that’s weird, all of this is weird, instead you reach up and take the piece of fruit and put it in your own mouth, chewing and swallowing, stopping his hands from getting you another piece.

“Thank you but this is entirely unnecessary, though I do appreciate it.”

“ I saw the article, and you weren’t lying with me when I woke up. Obviously you were upset I haven’t peeled any oranges for you, I apologize, now have another piece. Open your mouth, you don’t even have to do any work, just lay back and I’ll give you orange slices.”

“I bought the paper, I read it, I thought it was stupid- Astarion put the orange down or so help me- and then I went to sleep. I didn’t want to wake you so I kept my distance, and then I wake up to you assaulting Gale and trying to force feed me an orange. All caught up?”

“You didn’t go to sleep upset with me?” He asks, so open and vulnerable and sad that it hurts.

“No, and I don’t even like oranges that much. You’ve done a million things that show me you love me, including this disaster. I don’t need an orange.”

“Right then.” An awkward smile graces his lips, “So you don’t want this orange?”

“No, and never try to force feed me again, please.”

Once again he stands and leaves the room, and you just close your eyes and wait for his return this time, wondering how angry they’ll be about whatever he’s gone to do this time.

“Astarion, I’m not letting you in again, you’ve made a mess, and Lae’zel wants you dead. What do you want this time? An apple?” Gale is whispering, like he’s afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t, and you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“Darling! Would you like an apple?” He’s yelling, because he’s a lovely, kind man with no gods damned sense. You hear Lae’zel loudly curse him.

“No thank you.” You do not yell, because you do have sense.

“Then no, no apple. Here is this back, you all have a lovely day, especially you, my very angry, very close friend.” She growls out some more curses, but you don’t hear her drawing her sword, so you consider it a win.

“Astarion, I don’t want your orange.” Gale protests, but Astarion is already coming back to your room, locking the door behind him. He comes back to the bed, laying down and pulling you towards him.

You decide against scolding him, kissing him instead, and telling him that you’d do anything for him as well.

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #spawn astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #spawn astarion fanfic #astarion fluff

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satoruswifeyyyy · 3 days ago

Text

how to turn your boyfriend's tattoos into a masterpiece (ryomen sukuna x fem!reader)

masterlist

non curse au, sukuna and you have an established relationship, sukuna with tattoos, soft sukuna, sukuna with a family, choso and yuji call him 'uncle kuna', instagram au included.

itadori residence – dinner time

you weren’t sure what was more entertaining: the actual dinner or watching sukuna pretend he wasn’t secretly enjoying himself.

sitting at the dinner table, you glanced around. jin was at the head of the table, cool and collected, making sure things didn’t descend into absolute chaos.

yuji, being his usual sunshine self, was happily stuffing his face with food. choso, seated across from him, was delicately eating, looking every bit the sweet, older brother he was. you, of course, were seated next to sukuna, who was pretending to be absolutely miserable.

"uncle sukuna, can you pass the soy sauce?" yuji asked with a cheeky grin.

"get it yourself, brat," sukuna grumbled, arms crossed, clearly not in the mood to be helpful.

choso, ever the polite one, reached for the soy sauce. "here, yuji. don’t bother uncle sukuna too much."

you smirked, picking up the bottle before choso could. "here you go, yuji. unlike some people, i have basic human decency."

sukuna scoffed. "you’re acting like i even want to be here."

choso tilted his head, looking genuinely concerned. "but you didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to, uncle sukuna."

sukuna groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "that’s not the point, choso."

you nudged him with your elbow. "oh, please, you’re enjoying this, and you know it."

he clicked his tongue and looked away, but you saw the slight blush on his ears. victory.

dinner continued with plenty of sarcasm, teasing, and, of course, sukuna being a grumpy mess. but despite all his huffing and puffing, he didn’t get up and leave. instead, he stayed.

at one point, choso smiled softly at sukuna. "it’s nice that you’re here with us, uncle sukuna. yuji and i both like it when you’re around."

sukuna froze for a second before grumbling something unintelligible, his ears turning even redder. you couldn’t help but grin at how endearing the whole scene was.

and that was enough proof that he liked being around you all.

later that night – cuddling in bed

you had never, ever thought you’d see the day when ryomen sukuna—the infamous grump, menace, and self-proclaimed cuddle-hater—would be wrapped around you like a needy koala.

yet, here you were.

sukuna was shirtless, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist, keeping you locked in place. you had tried to wiggle out a few minutes ago to grab a glass of water, but he had growled in his sleep, pulling you closer.

for a guy who complained about affection, he sure needed it.

with a small smile, you blinked your sleepy eyes open, only to be met with—

a monster.

well, not an actual monster, but his damn tattoos.

cue immediate panic.

the half-asleep part of your brain didn’t register that it was just sukuna’s arm. no, your groggy self saw a monster.

in the darkness, his inked arm looked way more menacing than usual. your barely-awake brain registered this as "holy hell, i’m being attacked," and before logic could catch up, you let out the most ungodly scream known to mankind.

“ahhhhh!”

your scream shattered the peace, making sukuna jolt awake like he was under attack.

“what?! who? where?!”

he was already reaching for a weapon (that didn’t exist) while you were clutching your chest, trying not to die from embarrassment.

you were panting, clutching your chest, while he scanned the room for intruders. then his gaze snapped to you, eyes narrowing. “…why are you screaming?”

“…uh.” you flushed red, suddenly aware of what just happened. sukuna looked at you expectantly, arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

when you didn’t say anything, he raised an eyebrow. “what? spit it out, dumbass.”

you groaned, covering your face with both hands. “i—i saw your tattoo half-asleep and thought it was a monster.”

silence.

then.

he burst out laughing.

not just any laugh. a real, genuine, heart-melting laugh. one that made your brain short-circuit because holy hell—

ryomen sukuna actually had a beautiful laugh.

you just stared, completely hypnotized. his usual gruff, deep voice melted into something so warm, so sweet, so incredibly rare.

you didn’t even care about the embarrassment anymore.

you just… wanted to hear it again.

but then you remembered—he was laughing at you.

oh hell no. he does not get to laugh at you like this.

“oh, you think that’s funny?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“hilarious,” he wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“right. you’re so dead.”

he smirked. “oh yeah? what are you gonna do, dumbass?”

you smirked right back. “oh, you’ll see.”

thirty minutes later – operation: revenge

"this is the dumbest shit i’ve ever let you do," sukuna grumbled.

“hush, you love it,” you said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, gleefully painting over his tattoos with your makeup.

his once terrifying monster-like ink was now adorned with pink bows, glitter, tiny flowers, and even a ribbon or two.

“hold still,” you scolded, dabbing a final glittery touch on his forearm.

“if anyone ever sees this, i’m throwing you into the ocean,” he muttered.

you grinned. “you’re saying that, but you’re perfectly still.”

he clicked his tongue but didn’t move an inch. busted.

the next morning

you woke up early, stretching and rubbing your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. jin was already up, sipping coffee. yuji had his friends—megumi and nobara—over, and they sat around chatting. choso, ever the helpful one, was busy setting the table.

“morning,” you greeted, tying your hair up as you started helping yuji with breakfast.

a few minutes later, heavy footsteps sounded down the hall.

then—

sukuna strolled into the kitchen, shirtless.

and with his pink, girly, glittery, ribbon-covered tattoos on full display.

silence.

then—

absolute chaos.

megumi choked on his coffee. nobara? cackling. yuji stared for a solid three seconds before bursting into laughter so hard he almost fell off his chair.

choso blinked, tilting his head. “oh… uncle sukuna? you look...cute!"

“oh my god,” nobara screeched, whipping out her phone. click! “no way i’m letting this go.”

sukuna blinked, confused. “what?”

more laughter. yuji? dying. megumi? contemplating life. nobara? already uploading the picture.

jin just had a knowing smile on his face as he chuckled, shaking his head.

you? wheezing.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “what the hell is so funny?”

you gestured to his arm, barely breathing through your laughter. “your—your tattoos—”

he looked down.

froze.

realization. hit.

his entire face turned red.

“you,” he growled, turning to you, eyes blazing.

you, tears of laughter streaming down your face, held up your hands. “whoops?”

“you’re so dead.”

he lunged, but you dodged behind jin, who just sipped his coffee and sighed. “not in the kitchen, kids.”

meanwhile, nobara? still cackling.

“this is going viral,” she smirked, waving her phone.

choso, ever the innocent one, blinked and tilted his head. “uncle sukuna, you look nice with glitter.”

sukuna groaned, rubbing his face, still blushing. “i hate all of you.”

you giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “aww, don’t be mad.”

he grumbled, glaring at you. “this is all your fault.”

“but you love me,” you cooed, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

he sighed, pulling you closer. “…yeah, yeah.”

and despite all his threats and grumbling, you knew—he loved every second of it.

a few hours later, on instagram

slayorcrynobara [picture of the pinkish glitter clad tattoos on sukuna's arms]

slayorcrynobara: when you think @ryomensukuna cannot get any scarier but then he lets @_ynln pull this on him 💀💀 #ryomensukawai #pinktastic #pinkpower

[music: Tokyo- Leat'eq ♫]

♡ by _ynln, nanamikento, gojosatoru.thegoat and 8.6 others

@_ynln: i turned him into a strawberry shortcake, that's just how iconic i am 🔥

↳ @gojosatoru.thegoat: sukuna's honestly giving ✨ barbiecore✨ and i fear he is slaying better than me.

↳ @ryomensukuna: i always slay better than you.

@itsokkotsu4real: i don't know whether to laugh or cry but i am definitely scared 💀

↳ @ryomensukuna: cry. definitely cry.

↳ @_ynln: dw yuta, kuna is just mad because he looks delicious 😋

@kongshiu_here: this is the funniest thing i have seen all year. respect to y/n for pulling this off!!

↳ @bestfushigurodadtoji: ya ass is dead. ya said you didn't have network when i asked for hotspot, ya dumb fucker.

↳ @slayorcrynobara: not under MY POST-

@blackhairedsuguru: bro wtf happened to @ryomensukuna ? 💀💀

↳ @ryomensukuna: ask my girl, she’s the criminal here.

↳ @_ynln: criminally good at art, you mean?

@okkotsu4real: honestly it is sad that i missed out on it :/ wish i had been there... @megumifushiguro @itsdori_doesitbest @slayorceynobara @bigbrother.choco y'all are so lucky

↳@megumifushiguro: lucky??? these people were so loud that i got a headache

↳ @slayorcrynobara: haha jealous? 😇 kiss my ass

↳ @itsdori_doesitbest: megumi is capping, he secretly loved it!!

↳ @bigbrotherchoco: it was fun!! i have never seen uncle sukuna so happy 🥰

↳ _@ynln: @okotsu4real haha i will do it again when you come back to japan :D

↳ @ryomensukuna: THERE'S NO NEXT TIME

@_ynln: MY LITTLE PONYYYYYYY 🎀 he is just a chill guy, i m a chill girl and WE ARE A CHILL COUPLE‼️

↳ @ryomensukuna: i am chill guy, you're a chill girl. let's have children.

↳ _ynln: OMG I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK

↳ itsdori_doesitbest: NOT HERE GUYS

@weaponqueen.maki: @_ynln, you’re an artist. nobara, you’re an icon. sukuna, you’re a clown.

↳ @_ynln: love you 💋

↳ @slayorcrynobara: my baby gets it. always has, always will. 💅

@megumifushiguro: sukuna in pink. i never thought i would live to see this day.

↳ @ryomensukuna: enjoy it while you can, brat.

↳ @slayorcrynobara: i will make sure no one forgets <3

@inumakiisbrainrot: I WANT TATOOS LIKE THAT, SO BONITA AND COQUETTE 🎀 slay @_ynln

↳ @_ynln: ily 💋

↳ @ryomensukuna: he is fucking minor.

@iblameino: didn’t think it was possible to make you less intimidating BAHAHAHA

↳ @ryomensukuna: say that again, brat, and see what happens.

↳ @iblameino: why do you always act like you're better than me??

↳ @ryomensukuna: cause i am.

@itsdori_doesitbest: BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

↳ @itsdori_doesitbbest: I COULDN'T FUCKING BREATHE, THANK YOU SO MUCH @_ynln I LOVE YOU ��

↳ @_ynln: aww love you too baby

↳ @ryomensukuna: what the fuck is going on here?

@gojosatoru.thegoat: LMFAOOOOOO I CAN’T BREATHE. PINK SUKUNA IS THE NEW ICON.

↳ @ryomensukuna: get lost, you clown.

↳ @_y/nln: finally, someone appreciates my vision 😇

↳ @gojosatoru.thegoat: i never thought sukuna would embrace his pink phase.

↳ @ryomensukuna: i’m not “embracing” anything, idiot.

↳ @slayorcrynobara: sounds like denial to me.

@itsokkotsu4real: i don't know whether to laugh or cry but i am definitely scared 💀

↳ @ryomensukuna: cry. definitely cry.

↳ @_ynln: dw yuta, kuna is just mad because he looks delicious 😋

@gojosatoru.thegoat: OMG I NEED TO FRAME THIS. sukuna's just a big softie uwu. 🩷✨

↳ @_ynln: satoru, your energy is everything rn.

@inumakiisbrainrot: tuna mayo? 💖

↳ @_ynln: yes, inumaki, pink tuna mayo vibes 💕

↳ @ryomensukuna: what the hell are you two talking about?!

@bestfushigurodadtoji: ngl, this just made my week. sukuna, ever thought of a modeling career?

↳ @slayorcrynobara: you’ve got a point, old man.

↳ @bestfushigurodadtoji: this is cringe though🙄

↳ @pandastic_vibes: and yet you’re here for the tea.

@gojosatoru.thegoat: @blackhairedsuguru us when?? 😻😻

↳ @_ynln: LMAOOO IGNORED

@pandastic_vibes: honestly, sukuna’s giving off “pink panda energy,” and i’m here for it.

↳ @ryomensukuna: i’ll throw you off a cliff, panda.

↳ @weaponqueen.maki: sukuna vs panda is the fight we all deserve.

@bigbrother.choco: can we all appreciate how @_ynln 's art skills brought us closer as a family?

↳ @itsdori_doesitbest: facts.

↳ @ryomensukuna: i want a new family.

@nanamikento: i’ve seen a lot of ridiculous things in my life, but this? this is the limit.

↳ @slayorcrynobara: i’ll take that as a compliment. 💅

↳ @nanamikento: it, indeed, was one.

@thisishirugama: this feels like a violation of several laws, both moral and legal. this feels illegal to witness.

↳ @_ynln: that’s just my power as an artist.

@ryomensukuna: i didn’t sign up for this chaos.

↳ @slayorcrynobara: you didn’t need to. nobara delivers chaos to everyone, free of charge.

@gojosatoru.thegoat: sukuna looks like the final boss of a build-a-bear workshop. 💀 who approved this man?

↳ @slayorcrynobara: nah, he looks like the villain in a kindergarten play. “beware the pink warrior!” 💀

↳@inumakiisbrainrot: 👏 kombu 👏 man 👏 strikes 👏 again.

↳ @_ynln: it’s okay, guys. he’s going through his “finding himself” era 💕

↳ @ryomensukuna: i am reporting everyone's account.

↳ @itsdori_doesitbest: okay, uncle, calm down 😭

@_ynln: kuna, i painted your tattoos pink, and you still look like a menace. congratulations, you’re officially impossible to fix 🙏🔥

↳ @ryomensukuna: impossible to fix? woman, i’m perfect already. but if you want to try “fixing” me in private, my door’s always open.

a/n: ugh i had to rewrite this entire thing because i fucking didn't save the first half im so dumb 😭 this is probably the longest post i have ever made but well there's a first time for everything. this took a lot of time to make ughhh i want sleep xoxo

114 notes · View notes

souliebird · 13 hours ago

Text

[[and then I met you || Ch. 32]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3k🌶️

ao3 link

The billboard across the street shifts from casting a blue glow into Matt’s apartment to a warm purple one. It is bright enough for you to be able to see your keyboard, but low enough that everything is still in shadow. You can maneuver around easily enough, which makes it the perfect level considering you are apparently the only one in your family who needs light to do so.

Paired with the overall lack of decor, it fosters a nice working environment, with the ambience of the city providing the perfect background noise.

You have a fair bit of invoicing to catch up on, so you have set yourself up at the dining table as Matt readies himself for his own night of working. Luckily, all the excitement of temporarily moving into a new place left your little Mouse exhausted and getting her down to sleep was as easy as it has ever been. You wish you would be able to go off to Dreamland as quickly as she does, but you know your brain won’t let you drift off without hours and hours of worrying first.

“You don’t need to wait up for me,” Matt says for about the millionth time. He’s changed mostly into his red Devil suit, and it still baffles you how different he looks in it versus his Lawyer suit. It is like he’s been possessed or switched out with a twin - it’s not necessarily evil but it is a completely different aura. All his fun and charm has been replaced with a caged animal ready to rip someone’s throat out, and you just happen to be his keeper who he knows isn’t a threat. He’s of no danger to you, but anyone outside these walls is fair game.

“I have about forty emails to answer and even more orders to review and this is the only time I’ll be able to sit down and focus on doing all that. These are my working hours, too,” you reply as you finish connecting your VPN. “Plus, I’ll be up worrying until you are home safe. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“No killing anything,” he chides, his voice dropping an octave. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you are starting to think you may like this Devil-y side of Matt.

“You know I can’t even kill a cockroach.”

He huffs from across the room, then in a few long strides, he’s behind you, putting his large, gloved hands on your shoulders and rubbing at them, “I mean it. If you finish before I’m back, try to get some sleep. You need it.”

You let your head fall forward and enjoy the way his thumbs dig into your muscles. “I need to make sure I get my work hours logged. When you get home, we can both get some sleep.”

Behind you, a pleased rumble comes from Matt’s chest. He bends forward and nuzzles just above your ear, whispering in that deep voice that makes your core clench, “call it ‘home’ again.”

Your eyes flutter shut as your entire being heats up again. It isn’t just his voice and actions - it's the implication of his request - that he wants a home with you. He wants your home to be here with him. You can’t even take a moment to think about it, because you just want to please the Devil behind you.

“Come home to us.”

He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply while his hands tighten on your shoulders. He nods after a moment, then you feel him have to force himself to step away.

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear on my life.”

You resist the urge to follow after him and say something cheesy or dramatic. You stay planted in your seat instead, eyes still closed and breathing through your nose, trying to calm your fast beating heart.

Matt strides back to where his gloves and helmet wait for him, and you listen as he dons the last pieces of his armor. Only when he has fully become the Devil do you let yourself speak again, hoping to encourage the beast coming to life inside of him.

“Keep the Kitchen safe. For me. For Minnie.”

----

It’s closing in on three am when you hear the crunch of boots on gravel coming from the roof above you. You expected Matt to be home closer to one in the morning, but that was just a time you made up.

Your emails are still on your screen, so you close them out and clock out just as the door on the landing opens and the Devil returns to the apartment. There is a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and you scrunch up your nose in confusion as he makes his way down the stairs.

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” he growls out and you can instantly tell the poor man is exhausted.

You are up and out of your seat in an instant, making your way to him with your water bottle in hand. You hold it out to him as he comes to a stop in front of you and he quickly drops the bag to his feet in exchange for chugging the rest of your water.

“I told you I had a lot of work. Are you okay? What is with the - “You cut yourself off as the light coming from the billboard changes from red to yellow and you see there is a slice of suit missing from Matt’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

You don’t give him the chance to deny or explain - you turn and hurry back to the kitchen to get the first aid kit.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles from behind you. You hear something thunk on the ground and assume it is his helmet. “It went through and through.”

The words take a second to process and color drains from your face as they do. “You were shot?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. “I just need to wrap it.”

You yoink the first aid kit down from where it’s hidden in a cabinet and whirl back around the face Matt. He’s removed his helmet and gloves and is in the process of taking off his boots. Your mind swirls into overdrive, flying back to your binder pages about gunshot wounds and you find yourself huffing at the Devil as practicality fills you.

“Wrap it?” You almost scold as you march back to him. His head jerks up and his brows furrow, but your Mom Mentality is quicker than the Devil. “You can’t just wrap it; it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what is dripping off your suit into it. You can’t punch away an infection, Matt.”

His face slackens into confusion as you move to squat in front of him so you can open the kit and begin to rummage through it.

“What..?”

“I need to clean it,” you repeat as you inspect the meager contents of the kit. “And disinfect it. I’m not very good at stitches yet, but you have butterfly stripes,” you hold up the pack as you find it and continue your rambling, “and gauze, so we can wrap it, and hopefully that should be good enough. Do you know what caliber it was? Was it a hollow point?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, and you assume he is trying to remember what happened. You focus on reading the different packets you pick up, setting aside wipes and antibiotic ointments. If it was through and through, you shouldn’t have to get out any debris, but you add the tweezers to your pile anyway. Your mind is a step-by-step checklist of everything you need and you really hope all your studying has prepared you for your first real wound cleaning. You are a pro at scraped knees and paper cuts, but a bullet wound is a completely different level.

“What?” Matt repeats and you look up to see he looks completely dumbfounded. “You…aren’t angry?”

It is your turn to be confused.

“Why…would I be angry?” you ask slowly, trying to understand why he is asking. “You..didn’t mean to get shot, did you?” He shakes his head slowly, and your lips turn down into a frown. “Then..I’m not angry.”

You slowly sit yourself down and cross your legs, trying to process your own feelings around your Fix It and Make Things Better thoughts, “I’m scared that you got hurt. And I’m worried..I worry about you every night when you go out, but this…this is small, right? It’s through and through and in your arm and you aren’t bleeding everywhere, and you are standing on your own. You’re…you’re okay. You’re hurt. You’re hurt. But you’re okay…you’re okay and I just need to make sure you stay okay.” Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head to chase them away. “Please let me make sure you are okay.”

Slowly, Matt kneels in front of you and takes your face in his hands. He thumbs away a tear that managed to escape before leaning in to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, the Devil gone from his voice, and he sounds so so tired. “I’m okay, my darling. Let me get out of this and you can clean it, yeah? Then we can go to bed.”

You press into his touch, needing it to ground you and help you keep your emotions in check.

Matt’s hurt, but he is okay. It’s just a little wound, something you can handle. You know he is going to get hurt, going out and acting as a vigilante, and it isn’t always going to be bruises and split knuckles.

People shoot at him. They try to stab him. They might have weird fire breath or laser beams.

He’s going to get hurt, but right now he is okay. He just needs to be patched up and that is something you can do.

You’ve been practicing and studying to make sure he will stay okay.

You take a shaky breath and center yourself, then let your lips turn up into a small smile, “You’re all sweaty, you need a shower before bed. Or Minnie will complain that you are stinky in the morning.”

Matt huffs a small laugh and tips his head up to kiss your forehead. “Well, according to her my whole apartment is stinky and dusty and cold.”

“That’s why we are playing housekeeper tomorrow,” you whisper as he pulls away.

You allow yourself to wipe your eyes with your nightshirt as Matt removes the rest of his armor, leaving him in just his boxers. You then focus on double checking all the items you’ve gathered, letting your mind go back into Practical mode versus Emotional.

“Why do you have a duffel bag?” you finally ask, curious as to what he had been up to all night and why he has a new accessory.

Matt gives a quiet groan, then begins to explain as he sits himself in front of you. “I found an abandoned…lab is the only way I can put it, in one of the utility tunnels. I guess it got flooded out with all the rain and whoever was running it was clearing it out. When I got there, there was only one guy.” As he talks, you begin to clean his wounds, and you are not surprised at how stoic he remains despite the stinging of antiseptics. “I think he was just grabbing files, and that is what is in the bag. Paper files and what I think are thumb drives. I’m not too sure.”

You look up in time to see him turn his lips down into a hard scowl. “The whole place reeked of human blood, though. Not fresh - stale. And there were cages. It was just a few rooms, but someone was definitely up to no good down there.” He flexes his fingers, then says your name softly. “I think it was some sort of government agency. The gun the guy had was standard issue for the FBI and the way he moved was in line with their training, but it didn’t feel like the FBI. It felt more advanced and after everything with Fisk I don’t think they’d try something twice here so close together. But in my gut, it’s telling me this isn’t something like the Hand or something underground.”

You turn to look at the simple bag laying on the floor, your heart sinking as you take it in. You trust Matt’s gut with this - this is not his first rodeo, and he has so much more information about all of this than you ever will.

“Do you want me to read them for you?”

He shakes his head, “No. Well.. yes, but no. I think this is something I need to take to everyone - Foggy, Karen, Frank, Jessica. Another piece of the puzzle of what has been going on lately. I think we all have different parts, and we need to start looking at what fits together.” He pauses, rolls his lip between his teeth. “I’d like for you to be there, too..if you’d like. I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You aren’t out there, like we are but..I’m dragging you into this just by being with you. I…”

He stops, and turns to fully face you, pulling his bicep from your grasp so he can cup your jaw with his other hand. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“I can’t risk losing you. If you being in the know and understanding everything that is going on is what is going to keep you safe - keep Minnie safe - then I can’t lie to you and I can’t hide anything. But I need you to understand that there is a risk of knowing what lurks in the shadows. It is your choice; I want it to be your choice. I need you to be okay, too.”

You don't need to let the words turn over in your mind - you know your answer. “I want to be there. I want to help, even if it is just helping you talk through things. You don’t need to hide things from me. I…I understand what you are doing.” You mimic him and reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb so lightly over his lower lip. “I just want you to be safe, Matt. I want you to come home at night.”

You purposefully use the word, knowing it triggered a reaction before.

It does again.

His eyes flutter close, and he kisses your finger gently.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he breathes out before swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and you wonder if he wants to say more.

Do you want him to say more?

You don’t know.

You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it.

“Okay,” he whispers as you hand drops, and he turns so you can apply butterfly strips to the holes in his bicep.

You just want Matt to be safe and right now that means finishing wrapping his bicep. You let your thumb linger on his lip for a moment before pulling away, “I’m almost done with your arm. I..I think it doesn’t need stitches. Everything here should be plenty.”

You let your mind fall back to your guides as you wrap the gauze, mentally picturing exactly what you need to do while also making mental notes about directions you need to change and products you need to buy to fill out Matt’s first aid kit. While he has apparently been so much better at taking care of himself, his supplies are a bit lacking.

As you finish, you hesitate before leaning in and placing a small kiss over the entrance wound, mumbling as you do, “Minnie would admonish me if I didn’t add a kissie for extra healing.”

“She is the Doctor,” Matt replies gently, and you can’t help but smile.

You start to repack the first aid kit as Matt pushes up into standing to gather his own gear. You both clean in a comfortable silence and only once everything is put away, does Matt come back to you.

“Shower with me?” He asks, his voice soft and low and your whole body quivers for him.

You don’t reply with words. You take his offered hand, and he leads you to the small room.

The two of you can barely fit in the shower together, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you are under the water, you are one.

Matt cups your jaw with both hands as he kisses you like he is savoring every microsecond. It is slow and languid, and you melt together so easily. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his closer, like you want to absorb him because maybe you do. Maybe you want him to absorb you, because you are safe in his arms, and nothing will ever hurt you or make you cry if he is there.

You have Matt Murdock, and you have the Devil and he has you.

You don’t know if it's hours or minutes or days that pass before one callused hand drops to your thigh and with the lightest of touches, urges it up. Once it is around his waist, Matt rocks forward and slides into you with no resistance.

His pumps are as slow as his kisses and you lose yourself in him. If you could think, you would imagine he is lost in you as well, but the only thing on your mind is the pleasure he is bringing you and how perfectly full you feel.

His name is falling from your lips over and over, breathless and needy, but not for a release - just for him and it is like he knows that. His head drops to your shoulder, and he buries his nose into your throat, his lips moving in words barely heard above the spray of the shower.

Your name.

Mine.

Yours.

Perfect.

Please.

God.

Love.

((“I love you.”))

((“I love you, too.”))

---

:) <3

---

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @astridstark13 @hashcakes

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

@Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @buckyssugarchick

@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal

@allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

#soulie writes #fanfiction #and then i met you #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you

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leclercskiesahead · 1 day ago

Text

Spanish Heat

You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night.

I wrote this last year when @underthelightsblog kindly let me contribute to their C2 keychain companion booklet. If you ordered her keychains, you might have already read this! I didn't want to spoil it before she could send everyone their booklets, and then it felt a bit weird to post it in winter, so I'm sharing it now as a Valentines' post!

Charles is cold.

He is in Spain. In summer. It was perfectly hot and sunny in the morning, as he had expected, and his skin is already a bright pink that the internet will surely laugh about.

So why is it so cold??

Carlos is never cold. He is always nice and warm whenever Charles bumps into him as they compete in their silly challenge, searing hot when he traces his fingers down Charles’ arms in a way that means something different from teammates, blistering heat when he presses into Charles at night, and warm again when Charles curls up next to him as they drift off to sleep.

Carlos is always talking about his Spanish blood and oh I’m Latino I’m fire and how warm Spain is compared to Modena, where they work.

So Charles thought he would come to Spain and bake in the sun. Instead, he is going to freeze to death at night.

And he doesn’t have a warm Carlos to curl up with. Because Carlos is in Scotland for his friend’s birthday.

Charles shivers as he swipes through his phone. There’s a video of Carlos at his friend’s party, singing along and looking not at all cold in his simple sweater.

Doesn’t it always rain in Scotland? Carlos hates the rain. He loves his warm and sunny home country. But the one time Charles finally booked a trip there for summer break, Carlos had other plans.

It’s unfair.

Charles is cold. He is also impatient.

So he calls.

“Hola.”

“You didn’t tell me Spain is so cold.”

There is a laugh. Charles pouts even though Carlos can’t see how displeased he is. He is cold and freezing, and Carlos is laughing at him.

“Cabrón. You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night, no? Did they teach you in school? Or you didn’t pay attention.”

And well, yeah. Charles hadn’t thought about that.

But he still has to make a point.

“I was very good at school,” he huffs. “I always got good marks and paid attention.”

Another chuckle comes through the phone. “Sure, love.”

He can hear Carlos rolling his eyes. So annoying. But the pet name still makes part of his chest feel a bit fuzzy. And now he’s a little warm.

But still not as warm as the real thing.

"When are you coming here," he whines. Not that he doesn't already know the answer —

"You know when, mate, you made me send you my itinerary."

— but maybe if he asks enough times, Carlos will get annoyed and join him sooner.

"Then hurry up, Carlos," he says, his accent thick around the 'r'.

The phone transmits a static noise that Charles figures is Carlos tsk-ing at him. "Always so bossy," is the reply he gets. Then more gently, "Just a few more days. I will be right there, love."

"I want you now." His brain knows that logically, Carlos can't just abandon his own friends like that. But his heart wants what it wants. And if it can't get what it wants, then he'll just be a bit whiny about it.

"You are in Spain, think about me everywhere."

"Yes, yes," Charles nods, as if he hasn't already stalled multiple times in a day because something sets him off daydreaming about his boyfriend. "You have to win the golf now, since you are making me wait."

"Of course," is Carlos' smug reply. "Please don't fall down or hit anyone while you are surfing or doing volleyball or anything else."

Annoying man and his annoying ability to play all sports.

———

They have a yacht day planned, and a good amount of their supplies for this segment are in Charles' room because he has the biggest room because he likes to treat himself during his summer break. Also because he had booked it with some wishful thinking that he could be bringing someone with him.

Anyway, he has to get all their stuff from his room while his friends go to the dock to prepare the yacht.

Joris follows him to his room to help.

“Jesus Christ, why is it so hot here? Have you not burnt enough outside?”

“It’s cold at night."

"It's not that cold."

"It is science, Joris. Did you pay attention in school?"

Joris doesn't answer. He stares at Charles. Sighs. Walks over to one of the bags and pulls out a white lump of clothing. Stuffs it into Charles' hands.

"What is..."

It's one of the Ferrari fashion sweaters. But Charles doesn't remember packing it for this trip (because it is summer and they are going to Spain, where it's supposed to be hot and sunny, why would he need a sweater?). And when he unfolds it, it looks a size bigger than what he wears.

"I found it in your room," Joris says. "Maybe it can keep you warm. Until..."

He waves a hand and makes a knowing face.

Right. Joris goes to nearly all the races now and has seen more of what Charles gets up to off track than he needs to, whether as a friend or personal assistant. That also means he knows Charles, and he knows how Charles is when it comes to things related to a certain other driver who shares his name.

Charles holds the sweater against his chest. He has the decorum not to press his nose to the fabric there and then, but if he focusses, he can still pick up the lingering trace of a familiar cologne.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Yeah, don't mention it," his friend says, grabbing two large bags. Right, the rest of the group is probably waiting. He stops in the door. "It's not that cold, Charlie. Maybe only your bed."

He ducks out before Charles can smack him. He has the best friends. Really.

———

"Oh, it's windy, no?" Someone says while they all rest from a game on deck.

Charles turns to give Joris A Look. See? He's not the only one who feels cold.

"That's why we can't stay out too long. It's better in the water." And then they are all jumping in again.

Someone starts a swimming race. Bad idea. Because Charles can't not give his all in any sort of competition and because he trains the most out of all his friends — it comes with the job. He's going to win by a large margin.

It's also a bad idea because no one knows which marker they are using as the finish line, so everyone is paddling madly in all directions, and at some point, Charles realises he's ended up swimming away from everybody else. Which could be the large winning margin he wanted, but it's also possible that he's gone the wrong way and ended up further from the finish line. He can imagine everyone laughing at him, and the competitive racer inside him fumes.

Grim and determined, he starts paddling back, only for an air horn to snatch his attention.

A jet ski whizzes by, curving around and slowly circling towards him, like a shark. Or maybe a stingray, because Charles thinks his heart might have stopped. It's hard to see against the bright sun and with some saltwater in his eyes, but the figure on the jet ski is recognisable to Charles anyway.

Carlos rides up next to him with his perfect windswept hair and a sly smile.

"Hola," is all he says.

Charles is already grabbing his outstretched hand.

"Mate! You are early!"

"I told you I was coming today."

"You didn't say what time," Charles argues. "You sounded like —"

He tries to haul himself up the ski and nearly slips because he forgot his body is still dripping seawater.

"Ay, be careful," Carlos nags. Not that Charles really listens because he has two large, hot, searing hands on his waist as Carlos wrangles him onto the ski. A full view of a bare shoulder under a life vest.

Spain is very hot indeed.

"Good," Carlos mutters when Charles is finally settled on the ski. "How can I surprise you if I tell you exactly what time I'm arriving?"

Charles can't think of an argument. The breeze from earlier has returned, and he can feel goosebumps breaking out on his still-wet skin.

He presses into Carlos. The life vest is still in the way, but leaves enough exposed for Charles to feel the heat he has been craving this past week and a half.

He is wet and cold and feels Carlos' muscles jump at the initial contact.

"Ay, mate," he complains, but shifts to accommodate Charles anyway.

That's how Joris finds them later, tucked together on a deck chair as Carlos enjoys a beer and Charles enjoys Carlos' body heat.

———

"Mate, you are using the heater?" Carlos says when they retire to Charles' room — their room — for the night. He moves to turn it down with one hand while towelling his hair off with the other, freshly showered. Charles stares at the perfect dark locks sticking in all the right directions.

Tonight had not felt as chilly as the previous nights, but Charles had still turned the dial up out of habit when they had returned earlier.

"Is that mine? Ay, no wonder I couldn't find it."

Ah, yes, the sweater that he had stolen from Carlos at a race that Joris brought here for him. Laying across his lap.

"I was cold," is all he manages to say.

Carlos has a stupid grin on his face. Charles wants to kiss him.

So he does.

Charles is no longer cold.

#clairwrites #charlos

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swordsmans · 3 days ago

Text

rare and elusive wipweds of the dinghy boys

(text under the cut)

His brain’s already half gone to soup and he’s not even drowning yet, but this is how their friendship’s always been—playing like animals, like poking an angry thing with a stick even before he turned seven. Water snaps against the tip of his nose and (not for the first time) he wonders if he could bite the ocean back—if it ever let him have the energy—maybe it would understand like an animal, too. Or like a Luffy. Because he knows from Ace and from Gramps and from Shanks and from Dadan—there’s the bad hurt of meanness and there’s the other kind, the right one, that says I hate you but means I love you.

Then—suddenly—there’s a rocking underneath him, and a hand at the back of his collar, hauling him back—not gentle, but not unkind even as Luffy (limp and heavy) splashes water into the dinghy. Zoro breaks the people-silence and grouses, “Fuck, you’re high maintenance,” but it’s. Soft. At the edges. Not so much a scold as a statement of fact. And when Zoro settles back to sleep-or-maybe-not, he doesn’t let go—just palms the edge of Luffy’s shirt without looking. Touching. Still quiet (the way Zoro likes it) but there (the way Luffy does).

Not alone.

And Luffy blinks, neck bent at a stupid angle as he stares up at the moon (real, this time—not its reflection) and relishes the tingling in his limbs. Reaches out to grasp the edge of Zoro’s shirt, too, for no reason, and misses. Doesn’t try again. Furrows his brow. Feels the world shift, just slightly—or maybe just the boat.

Thinks—this is the first time anyone’s stopped him from falling in first, not just pulled him out after.

Thinks—of course Zoro’s going to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Not because the Pirate King can’t have anything less but because he won’t.

Thinks—no matter what happens—forever and ever—there will always be a line here: before Zoro (Luffy), and after Zoro (LuffyandZoro) and thinks, ah—because it turns out Dreams can stretch, too—can change and grow, just like the rest of him.

Thinks—he can’t tell if this is what it means to be a Captain or to have a First Mate. Can’t remember if Shanks ever said anything about Benn and knows his brothers never thought much about it because they’d been too busy fighting for a higher rank.

Thinks—they’ll just have to find the rest of their crew so he can figure it out.

Slurs, instead of any of that (because thinking’s just as boring as the rest), “Zor-o!” and rolls the sound around in his mouth, relishing the new-funny taste of the rest of his life. Whines, “I’m hungry!” because he is.

One bite, and he’s starving.

#anyway im getting back into the swing of writing luffy and zoro (gasp) in the same location #the wip has been languishing for too long. they need their happy ending so they get 10k (< bold statement from Thinly-Veiled Tragedy Guy)#luffys pov continues to let me do weird shit with words/meanings and i enjoy it very much. hoping it sticks the landing #gyro.odt #zolu

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breadandlottery · 1 day ago

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I think I'm going to make people upset but let's go Do you think Gi Hun has grown in terms of character development? In my opinion, what bothers me most about round 6 is the lack of significant growth in gi hun because he doesn't seem to have lost several people in the first season he remains naive I expected an improvement or development from a person who has already won the games. I would like you to answer me, I love your analyses.

My dear anon, apologies in advance for what is sure to be a very lengthy response…

I would like to say first that this is a tough question for me to answer with confidence since we haven’t seen season 3 and because it feels a little like a season 2A and season 2B situation.

I’ve been working through scenes that I’m flagging in my mind for moments that should have raised red flags for Gihun but, from what we’re shown, didn’t. As I often tag ramble about, I do hold out some hope that he had legitimate suspicions of 001 and a loose backup plan. I have also noted that, interestingly, s2 does not have any of the flashback/realization scenes we were given several times in s1 and honestly, that feels very intentional? Like we’re supposed to notice it’s missing (I also have thoughts about ADHD Gihun, but that may just be me projecting because I’m real familiar with the exact kind of lightbulb moments he has, lol). My hunch/hope is that the show has been misdirecting us to make us believe everything you just said about the apparent lack of character development.

Now, I do think there has absolutely been character evolution. I can understand fans not seeing it as “development”, because I think we tend to think of character development as positive growth, but honestly, it doesn’t have to be… like a villain arc is still character development (just an example, I do not think this is a villain arc situation). I think instead of a lack of character development, I’d be more apt to call it a lack of “learning his lesson” or a lack of apotheosis (the point of realization/epiphany).

If we view squid game as monomyth/hero’s journey, he’s kind of not to the point yet where that would have happened (because the end of S2 would be the abyss?). Now, am I certain that the story being told is a hero’s journey? No, although I am somewhat confident.

So— I'm working under the assumption that we have a hero’s journey told in trilogy format. We have a LOT of comparison media out there… the Matrix, Star Wars, LOTR, among the most popular. What does the end of the middle installment of all of these have in common? They’re bleak af.

Matrix: Neo unconscious, Agent Smith breaking into the real world

Star wars: Luke battles Vader and loses his hand/almost dies, Han encased in carbonite

LOTR: Gollum’s betrayal, battle of Helm’s Deep (a win but with an ominous warning accompanying it)

The psuedo trilogy structure is where I do feel slightly perturbed at netflix for passing off a split season as 2 separate seasons. With a “real” trilogy, each component should be able to stand alone (like with 3 act structure-- set up-> conflict -> resolution) which is true of the examples above because the primary narrative conflict is actually resolved but super not true of squid game s2. Which means s2 and 3 combined could be the middle of the trilogy, with the mystery future season being the final part, but I don’t know that that’s in the cards.

As an aside, we could just be totally wrong about the direction this is going in. Narrative arcs that involve the protagonist “learning a lesson” isn’t a universal concept. I always think of James Bond movies (especially the older ones) as an example of a “flat arc” character, because like, if you sleep with her she’s probably gonna die James, didn’t you learn this last time? If you’re too reckless there will be consequences, didn’t you learn this last time James? Like. That guy never learns. Not every character learns from their mistakes. Do I think Gihun is ultimately gonna be a flat arc character? No. Is it possible? I guess, man, look at the world, anything’s possible!!

So, ugh, sorry that’s a ton of speculation and uncertainty that isn’t directly answering your ask, but I do think that any of these possibilities can explain what we’re calling a lack of character development because we’re just not at that point in the story yet.

NOW.

Personally, I do think that Gihun is very perceptive, and I hold out hope that he wasn’t as trusting and oblivious as we’re made to think. I also believe that even if that is the case, he’d still have further to go/more development needed before he could actually reach the end of his journey. The reason for this (and I think one of the reasons people sometimes think of him as not smart) is the narrowness of his worldview. Not narrowmindedness, just literally not having broad knowledge about the world. Like not knowing where Pakistan was. Or not really getting that neither he nor the Frontman have the power to end what's happening because it is a symptom of a much larger, systemic problem. And in complete fairness to this sweet man, lack of perspective and a narrow worldview is an incredibly common flaw in people.

So a few things that can be interpreted as Stagnation or Lack of Development:

Still a gambler: as seen in Russian Roulette and in going back into the game. Definitely risky, definitely reckless. He is like kinda suicidal though, so I don’t know that the underlying cause of this behavior is the same as it was in s1.

Still just out here trusting everyone: Yeah. That’s what he does, though. He came right out and said it, he doesn’t do it because he thinks people are trustworthy, he does it because what else is he gonna do? Is this a dumb-as-shit approach that should be “character-developed” out of him? Or is it a very important key defining feature of who he is as the hero of the story? I could go either way on that, tbh.

Naïve/easy to fool: I don’t think he ever was all that easy to fool, I think he consciously chose to let a lot of things slide and/or second-guessed his intuition because people called him stupid and slow all the time.

Things that I think are Character Development

Ability to Focus: Maybe I’m ADHD projecting again, but this guy was all over the place in the beginning of s1, now he’s running a whole ass operation (maybe the medicine Mr Kim brought over was secretly adderall lol).

Leadership: I’ve said all along he just naturally exudes leadership, but he wasn’t really aware of it or comfortable with it in s1. In s2 he’s really embracing decision-making (even if they’re bad decisions) and seems comfortable being the one planning and leading, which is impressive.

So. To sum up a very very long answer:

I do see character development, if not the “hero finally learned his lesson” kind

I do still think it’s possible that Gihun wasn’t quite as clueless as we’re shown, and I’ll cling to this delusion until at least June 27th lol

I think it’s possibly too early in the narrative for his full revelation, anyway, but-

Part of why that feels “off” is because s2 is missing the “last Act” of the story it was telling (like don’t split a sequel in 2 and try to shoehorn it into a trilogy if it’s not an actual trilogy please for the love of god it throws off the balance)

#nice human #anon #squid game #squid game meta #squid game analysis #characterization #character development #more capital T Thoughts about the narrative #i will say that everything i know about hwang dong hyuk makes me trust him to take the narrative and the characters exactly where they need #to go #is any of this at all accurate or am I just blinded by my unconditional love and devotion to the character #the world may never know

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reignpage · 2 days ago

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Reign you know what? I had a very bad week and tried to make decisions like the mc you wrote in smaus instead of a crazy Person then i stared at the chat with a question mark, how should i act now? It would be smart of me to just wait or not? So i drop here the situation cause i've been following you and reading your smaus since a lot everyday and i trust your judjgment. So, basically i've been dating my boyfriend since 10 years and 8 months, we are both 27. The day before sunday we argued because we planned tò go tò a chinese festival in the morning cause i worked on sunday, then the day come and he told me "let's Just go tomorrow cause i have tò meet my Gym trainer" and i got kinda mad, he snapped at me through messages and stop. Okay. But then on sunday, while i was at work, he texted me saying he wanted a break cause it's been so time he don't know what he felt but never told me and Just brushing that feeling off. He said that maybe we meet up too early and that he Need space to figure things out. Then Yesterday he deleted out pictures on Instagram.... What should i do? I said tò take his time but i'm Just staring at the phone all day waiting

Girl, break up with him. He hates you. No man who’s in love with you would want a ‘break’ out of nowhere. Knowing men, he likely wants to sleep with another woman and that’s why he’s asked for a break. Seeing as you’ve been together a long time, he likely got bored and wants to see if he can do ‘better’. He views you not as this amazing gorgeous wonderful person he wants to spend the rest of his life with but as a safety net for if no one else wants him.

My friend went through the exact same thing. A break out of nowhere.

And the thing is your ‘boyfriend’ isn’t even behaving like this is a break. A break is space from each other but you are still dating, you are still together, and you should still be communicating. Deleting all your pictures together indicates he wants to sever your ties, flirt around without any girl knowing about you, and if he can’t find anyone else, he’ll put those pictures back up and date you again

He sounds like a dick

It’s not even just the break. It’s also the fact that you planned something and on the day, he decides he wants to do something else. That’s disrespectful. You make plans you commit to them. Especially if they’re with your partner. You don’t just get to do whatever you want, you have to be considerate, that’s what it means to be in a relationship — moving as a team, as a unit, not as two individuals.

And then it’s the snapping at you, fuck him, why doesn’t he have the emotional control at his big age not to react aggressively

AND to ask for a break on text?? Oh yeah that man thinks very little of you. He doesn’t think you’re worth a proper conversation, he doesn’t even think it’s a conversation, he’s just letting you know he doesn’t want to be with you but he wants you to stay available for him in case things don’t work out with whatever woman he’s chasing

I hope hope hope I’m wrong but personally, I would break up with him. Don’t spend your time waiting around. The last thing you should ever want to do is tolerate his disrespect and take him back when it’s convenient for him because what that teaches him is that you will never leave, you will never fight back, and he can do whatever he wants anytime he wants

You’ll look back at this years later and think, the signs were there, I just didn’t want to see it.

Leave him now. It’s never too late to live life for yourself and to start again. A man like this will only crush your spirit and you’ll not only hate him, but also yourself if you don’t choose you now.

#reignpageasks

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auraisereigh · 3 days ago

Text

"Blades to celebrate"

chapter thirteen part I

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: It's stars birthday but she has other plans than to celebrate. wc: 4.7 ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Not much honestly. Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

It’s still dark when I make my way out of my room. To my confusion, Xaden continues to sleep on the couch instead of his own bed. Last night, noticing his habits, I spent some time trying to make the couch more comfortable—extra blankets, some pillows, even the blanket Mom made for him. Though he hasn’t touched that one.

Thanks to the kitchen staff from the mess hall, our fridge is finally stocked with actual, edible food. I grab some bread and make myself a simple ham and cheese sandwich, eating quietly at the kitchen table as I go through an old book I found tucked under my bed two days ago. It’s one of the many books Viscount Tecarus gave my father, a collection meant to help identify the source of my magic, its nature, and its potential.

Going through it now feels like a joke. Nothing in here has helped. Well, unless you count the insane amounts of love spells.

Once I finish eating, I clean up quickly and make breakfast for Xaden. I place the plate on the coffee table next to where he’s sleeping. But as I turn to leave, his hand wraps around my arm.

What the—

"Happy birthday, little sister," his sleepy voice rumbles.

My heart stutters. Those are words I didn’t want to hear. I wasn’t going to celebrate. It didn’t feel right—not when the people I want most around me aren’t here and never will be again. The wound is still raw, still tender. Celebrating anything feels wrong.

I give Xaden a small, reluctant smile. "Thank you, but you don’t have to say it. I’m not celebrating," I say softly as his eyes flutter open. His brow quirks, a silent question I’ve seen countless times. He doesn’t need to ask aloud; his expressions do it for him.

"I’m fine, truly. I’m just not in the mood to celebrate. Besides, I already have plans for today—something I’ve wanted to do for a while. I think I’ll manage to enjoy myself," I assure him.

His eyes drift shut again as he mumbles something I can’t make out. Good. He needs the rest.

I throw on one of Dad’s old shirts before heading to the forge. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here—too long. The last time was when Garrick’s father taught me how to craft my own weapons. Now, I’m finally going to do it myself.

I made sketches ages ago, outlining everything: the design, the weight, the materials, even the runes I’d use. I wouldn’t be working alone; the forge’s smith offered to assist if needed.

As I step inside, I quickly braid my hair into a simple but traditional Tyrrish braid. Last night, in my rush to meet Brennan, I’d brought my sketches here and left them on the worktable. I was already late then, so there hadn’t been time to linger.

The forger approaches with a polite smile. "Good morning, Princess," he says with a small bow.

"Good morning," I reply, matching his politeness.

"Do you know how to make weapons?" he asks, a valid question.

"I’ve seen it done," I answer, keeping my tone light. "I have sketches of what I want, but there are a few adjustments I’ll make to the design."

He nods, studying the papers I hand him. "From what I remember, your father once requested swords for you—thin, light, and easy to wield. I assume you’d prefer a similar weight now?"

I nod again, though the mention of those swords stings. I still have them, but using them feels like bringing up ghosts. Memories of training with Garrick’s father or my own threaten to overwhelm me.

"I’ll get you a triangle-tip mold for the blade," the smith says, pulling one from the shelf. "I remember you asked if molten alloy could be added to the blade. It’s possible. Both the steel and alloy are ready to pour."

He sets the mold next to the molten liquids, then continues, "After you pour the mixture, you can work on the handle. By the time that’s done, the steel should have hardened."

I glance at the glowing cauldrons of molten metal, nerves tingling. Logically, nothing should go wrong, but doubt lingers, the kind that creeps in when trying something for the first time.

"I have conduits with runes that respond to my magic," I explain hesitantly. "Would it be possible to insert them into the blade? That way, I wouldn’t need to touch an enemy directly to cause internal damage."

He pauses, studying me. Not many people outside Riorson House know about my magic.

"If the conduits respond to you, it’s possible," he says at last. "My advice? Pour a thin layer of the alloy into the mold first and let it cool slightly. Then, place the conduits carefully—balance is crucial. A single misstep, and the blade could be completely off-kilter. Once the conduits are set, pour the rest of the mixture on top and let it dry."

Relief washes over me. I nod in understanding and get to work.

I pull out a second mold to craft twin swords, placing them side by side on the worktable. After slipping on a pair of gloves, I grip the large ladle and pour a precise, even layer of molten alloy into each mold. Once the initial layer hardens slightly, I carefully place the conduits, ensuring they’re perfectly balanced. With that done, I pour the remaining alloy over them, filling the molds to the edge.

While the blades cool, I turn my attention to the handles. I’ve chosen a sleek black design with a red swirl that will spiral up to the base of the blade. Each handle will also feature a red stone that lights up in response to my magic.

By the time the stones are secured in place, the blades have hardened. I remove them from the molds with care, admiring the way the metal glints in the light. Sharpening and shaping them is the next step, and I lose myself in the steady rhythm of the work.

That’s when I feel it—a presence behind me.

At first, I think it’s the smith and ignore it, focused on the blade in my hand. But the presence lingers, unmoving. Setting the sword down, I remove my safety glasses and let them hang around my neck as I turn.

It’s not the armorer.

It’s Brennan.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog@bangtanxberm@hyperactive-bookworm-0@littowl@thebreadisthetruevillian

#brennan x star #brennan sorrengail x reader #xaden riorson x reader #the empyrean #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #mira sorrengail #violet sorrengail #brennan sorrengail #fen riorson #garrick tavis x reader #bodhi durran #liam mairi #bodhi durran x reader #emprean story

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the-ate-show · 2 days ago

Text

00:04

Skin and Bones

Wc: 7.7k

WARNING: this chapter does contain some content that hints at smut BUT it's fade to black dw, this is sfw :3

That night, you wandered out of your room, dazed. You walked down the steps, unable to control the helplessness that pierced your heart. You skipped on the swings, or the seesaw, going towards the playset to sit up in its confines. You heard his footsteps, controlled and exasperated. He looked up at you from the foot of the slide, you stared down at him from where your head was hidden behind your knees.

“I was wrong,” you started.

7 gave a slow nod, with a sigh, “I know,” he gestured for you to come, but you didn’t budge. If you were to do anything except just sit here, you’d cry.

He very begrudgingly sat on the slide bottom.

“How’d you know she’d do it?”

“She doesn’t strike me as the type to pick peace over pride,”

“No, she isn’t,”

“Do you regret not picking 3?”

“Can’t say i do.” you sniffled. “Hunger, exhaustion, dehydration are all one thing. The feeling I'd get if I betrayed the one man in here who's actually reliable? Unimaginable,”

He let out a dry laugh, giving you a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Harsh,”

“Not harsh enough.” you paused, then let out a breath, “Why’d you do that yesterday?”

“Do wh-”

“You know what I’m talking about, Yu.”

“Kiss you?” you nodded, lips tucked in. He shrugged.

“Did you know I’d get mad?”

He looked down at his hands, nodding slowly like a child fessing up to crimes. “I… Got a little caught up I guess,”

“In what?”

“You.” “Oh save it, you just wanted to get me on your side.”

He bit his lips. “Maybe a little bit of both,” he hummed, tapping on the plastic.

“Okay mr genius, how do we fix this mess?”

“Grovel,”

“I’m not doing that,”

“And then you’ll starve,”

“You okay?” a female voice suddenly joined, 2.

“I’m okay, you?” she sat next to you on the playset, and you leaned your head on her shoulder.

“Hungry,” she let out a breath of air. “Can’t sleep.” she looked over and gave a nod to 7, who returned it.

“How’re we gonna fix this?” she asked you, and you shook your head.

“7 sai-”

“I wasn’t asking 7,” she says with more venom than necessary. Oh she doesn’t like him very much right now, perhaps she knows he voted for 3. “What do you think we should do?”

“Starve,”

“Actually?”

You lifted your head, “8 doesn't want to leave the show, if one of us dies she’d have to. So,”

“She’ll just give us enough food to keep us alive,” 7 responded.

“But she can’t control whether or not we eat it,”

“You’d kill yourself just to prove a point?”

“Might as well go out with a bang,” you breathed out.

2 gives you a glance and a comforting pat on the shoulder, “We should go, it’s almost midnight, plus you’re already starting to lose it.”

Another two days of torture passed, where 5 begged, 6 pleaded, and the rest could barely muster the energy to leave their room. You found yourself with 3 frequently these days. Seemed that he outweighed you in the awkward department, and with him there was no social pressure to be cool. Hunger gnawed at your body, threatening your soul along too with its persistent cracking of your resilience.

5 was taking it the worst, on a day where you all lounged tiredly in the common area, she randomly got up. She was excited, thanking 8 for coming down with the meal kits, and beckoning everyone over to eat. You all stared in confusion. 3 gave you a look and you shrugged. 1 was the one to break her out of her trance, walking up to her and asking if she was okay. She isolated herself after that.

On the third day, something in 3 snapped. He burst into tears, apologising, saying he’d just take the waste instead. Though you weren’t sure why he cried, you empathised with him. 3 got up to beg, but was promptly stopped by 7, who said this needed rationality, and less feelings involved. Like a knight in shining armour, he rose the steps with straight posture, the effects of hunger inevident on his body, except just under his eyes. Sunken. Tired.

. . .

“God, the day you learn how to take care of yourself is the day pigs fly,”

“I hate that metaphor,”

You sighed, walking up to his bed ridden form and slotting your hand against his forehead. “Worse than I thought.”

“Hot?”

“No, can’t tell the difference between a metaphor and an idiom,”

“No but I can tell the difference between a metaphor and an idiot,” he laughed at his own joke, then coughed, and then groaned. “I haven’t felt sick since I was like twelve,”

You frowned, staring at his sunken eyes with their purplish bags. You set up a few meds, so he could have them after he ate, “C’mon, sit up.”

“Can’t. Gonna die.” Why are men always so dramatic?

“That’s a little dark.” you helped him sit up, bringing the noodles and soup out. He glanced at them, then at you, a lazy look in his face.

“Grown man and can’t even feed himself,” you mumbled playfully, and then brought a spoon up to him.

“I can. Just tastes better from your hands,”

. . .

He emerged about twenty minutes later, giving a singular nod. Good job 7.

She emerged with him, and bought clothes to satisfy her ever growing greed. You rested at the stairs near 3’s room, with him and 2. 7 Joined shortly after, smoking with 3.

2 was particularly annoyed at 8 for buying clothes, and 7 gave another evil mastermind type speech about how if we waited we would’ve been her slaves. At that comment, you shot him a look.

The call is coming from inside the house sweets, you’re already her slave.

That night, the food was delivered, and you hate to say it took all of 3.5 seconds for all your resolve to fade. You devoured every last grain of rice, every little protein, you almost ate the actual plastic. You winced as you stared at the plate, the food was unfamiliar. Hopefully you won’t die, or go into shock. Again.

The next morning, you all grouped together again by the faux pool, 8 suggested what she’d spent her vacation days conjuring up, the King’s game.

It goes as follows, you each draw a ping pong ball with a number one through seven, one person having a ball with the letter ‘K’, that person picks two numbers and gives them a dare. The two numbers reveal themself and do it. Easy enough.

5 protested first. “Doesn’t that game usually involve inappropriate stuff, not that I’m against dirty games or anything…”

“Not necessarily,” 1 responded comfortingly.

“Sounds hot, I’m in,” 6 said.

7 spoke next, “I agree. Unlike the talent show, there’s no unequal contributions.”

“I’m in too,” 5 said.

“Me too,” 1.

“Whatever,” 2.

You nodded to 8, and finally, 3 gave an over enthusiastic agreement. Poor guy, the human fertilizer in his room must've messed with his head.

Thus commenced the game, 5 was the first ‘king’, she picked her two and five and ordered them to hold hands. When no one spoke, you stood next to her and repeated it. Funnily enough, it was 7 and 6. They looked like siblings forced to get along. Or maybe…lovers. You laughed out loud at your own joke, causing a few people to turn to look at you. Namely, a glare from 7.

“Something funny 4?” 6 asked and you nodded. He all but growled at you then looked down and then gave 7 a disgusted look. “Man don’t lace your fingers!”

“Oh sorry,” he went to undo their hands.

You had to hold your stomach from how hard you laughed, unlike 3 who actually stifled his.

“Nope, keep your hands intertwined until the next round,” 5 said cruelly.

The next round, you parted your thumbs to reveal, K. YIPPEE!!

“I’m the king,” you said with a huge grin. Part of you hoped 7 would get selected, and then you’d make him do something really stupid so he’d lose his nonchalant credibility. Maybe you’d make him dance. He was an awful dancer.

“I pick six and seven,” you paused. This was easier to play with people who you actually knew well. With these folks, things wouldn’t be as funny as they are awkward. “Hug,”

“C’mon,” 8 whined, “Do something fun!”

“This is fun,” you frowned.

“Make them kiss!”

“That’s cruel!” No it wasn’t, it was hilarious, but she needed to back off. Maybe when she became king she could pick.

Good thing you stood your ground, because it was the two most innocent people known to man- 5 and 1. They hugged, albeit very awkwardly, and thus concluded your round.

At the next draw, 8 was the lucky girl.

“Three… and seven… French kiss.” What kink is this?

2 raised her hand, and so did 3. He was a lot more hesitant than her though.

“C’mon, kiss.” 8 repeated, and 2 sized her up.

“What if I don’t? Let’s make this more exciting, I’ll do anything but that,”

“Well, good because in that case you and 3 aren’t a good pairing anyways. 2 and whoever has the number two… fight. A single round,”

7 dropped his head, and 6 bounced his ball. It was him, because of course it was.

He gave a cocky smirk to a very unimpressed 2. “They say only pussies fight girls,”

She laughed dryly, “You sure you aren’t one?”

“For a girl as lanky as you, you're full of hot air,” they each toss their balls, unnecessary and dramatic, then move a little away. You move closer to watch, hands anxiously covering your mouth.

6 threw a punch, which 2 guided to bring him down in a single motion while being unmoved. He is on the ground now. Back up, he punches, she dodges, repeatedly, until she lands a blow that makes him again. This drags on for a while, his anger palpable. She kicks him into the pool, he falls flat on his behind. He doesn’t surrender. More dodging, more punching, until she gasps. She clutches her arm with a pained groan, and he takes his opening. 6 lunges at the temporarily weakened woman, targeting her hand, then pulling her hair, then almost breaking her fingers. She fell to her knees, and he kicked her, then got on top of her.

“He’s gonna kill her!” you screamed in horror, moving to help but getting stopped by 8’s hand.

“Someone stop this!” 5 yelled as he continued to punch, blood splattered from her hopeless figure

“Why? No one surrendered yet,” 8 said with a weirdly happy expression.

7’s hands curl at his sides, and he rushes forward trying to grab 6. 6 flung him back and 7 grunts at the contact with the ground. 3 and 1 join forces with 7, and they all tackle 6 to get him off, while he continues to yell profanities and for her to surrender. You ran forward, sliding onto your knees next to 2. She sputtered blood, and convulsed. You cupped the back of her head softly, mouth opening then closing again. This was such a mess. Your lips quivered, and you slid your jacket off, wiping the blood from her cheeks. 6 celebrated in the distance his victory, 50 whooping hours.

5 patched 2 up back in her room. 2 had kicked you out, much to your dismay.

You sat with your knees to your chest, staring at your bloodied jacket. 5 returned.

‘“We can't keep doing this, you took it too far 6, she’s in bad shape now,”

“Isn’t that what a fight is about?”

“If we get asked to fight again, is that gonna happen?” 1 asked. 6 gave him a look over his shoulder.

“Only if you're cheeky,” he gave you a pointed glance at that.

“No, let’s exclude things like fighting from now on,” 7 said, hands on his hips. “We don’t have the facilities to treat injuries, it could cause permanent damage,”

“We’re gonna run out of time quickly like that. Just kissing?” 8 said.

“There’s other fun things we can do outside of fighting,” you tried. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something,”

“How about a penalty,” 8 suggested. “So you can chicken out, and we still get time.”

“Like, twenty pushups?” you responded.

“No.. more like,”

A taser. That psycho bought a taser.

“Don’t horses usually get knocked down by that?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I’ve never been tased before. Seems like fun,”

There was simultaneous agreement from 5, 6 and 8. So taser it is.

“A taser,” you mumbled to yourself, swinging on the swingset that night, a cigarette in hand. “A taser.”

“A taser,” 7 mimicked you, sitting by you in the other swing. “We’re screwed,”

“We?” He raised an eyebrow. “No 7, you’ll go and talk to her and she’ll kiss it better,”

A small, almost imperceivable smile appeared on his lips. No response.

You huffed, taking another deep inhalation. “What do you want?”

“To talk,”

“Really? You’ve said three words since coming here,”

“You look angry,”

“You should've skipped the screenwriting and taken a career as a body language analyst.”

“Sorry,”

“For what?”

“Kissing you. It was wrong. Foul play on my end. And maybe for getting you back into smoking,” he gently takes it out of your hand, and puts it between his lips. “And for lying,”

“About what?”

“About kissing you partially to get you on my side,”

“It was fully to get me on your side?”

He shook his head after a beat of silence. “It hadn’t occurred to me- that it could have even been interpreted that way. I’d never… use you like that. You know that right?”

“Could've fooled me,” you watched him exhale the smoke. “How rude, you just stole my cigarette then you smoke it all angsty,”

He chuckled, “Stop trying to change the subject,”

“I find it hard to believe that you are sorry,”

“Why emphasis on me? I've apologised before?” he cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t respond, gazing blankly at the wall in front of you, swaying on the swingset gently.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say?” you crossed your arms, shivering slightly.

He stared at you, a sadness present in his eyes. He wanted to say more, to have you say something. He would have settled for anything, yelling, punching, screaming- he hated this icy wall between you two. Impenetrable.

Or seemingly so.

“Why didn’t you pick up?” you asked, sniffing slightly.

“Hm?”

“When I called… you let it go to voicemail,”

Okay, this is way worse than yelling, punching and/or screaming.

He let out a soft exhale, shaking his head, “Couldn’t face it,” his eyes casted to his shoes, he dug his heels mindlessly into the ground. “The consequences of my actions,”

The following day, you got up early to check on 2. No one else was up. You knocked, and knocked and knocked, eventually, she opened it.

“2-” she slammed it shut in your face again. Then, she slowly cracked it open.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure- because that-”

“I’m sure.” her eye went down to your blood stained jacket, then back to your face. You did your best to pretend not to notice. This time, when she shut the door, you knew to just go.

Later on, when the game’s were almost starting, 5 emerged.

“How’s 2?” 3 asked and 5 gave a sorrowful expression.

“She’ll be in more pain than she was in yesterday, it’s unlikely she’ll be joining us,”

“Nice makeover,” 6’s voice interrupted between drags of his cigarette. You followed his gaze to… 2. Quite the woman.

You filled her in about the taser, and you each got to select your balls.

“Wow!” 8 squealed, “I’m the king! Okay, four.. Touch five’s… breasts! Under clothes,”

Gasps filled the air.

“I umm, I have 5,” 5 said shyly.

“Who’s four?” 8 asked, and 3 very awkwardly raised his hand.

The two of them moved to the swingset. You watched this scene with mortification. 8 kept counting down, and 3 kept chickening out.

“Tase me!” he suddenly blurted. “I mean, I’ll take the penalty,”

“It’s fine y-”

“No. I’ll take it,”

He stood at the top of the small metal slide, smoothing his clothes over, the nerves clearly getting the better of him.

“Wait,” 7 stood up from the spinny thing, and walked closer, “You could get hurt, so you should probably sit down,”

“In front of the slide? What if he falls over?” you asked, to no one in particular. “Usually several big guys are holding the dudes getting tased, at least from what I’ve seen on youtube,” 3 shot you a poorly masked terrified look.

“It’ll be fun this way,” 6 chuckled.

After a few beats of hesitation, 5 tased 3 on his bare neck, who convulsed then fell forward as predicted. He slid down the slide almost anticlimactically. Everyone ran up to see his unconscious form, asking if he was okay. You were instead met with the pooling of fluid in front of you. Poor guy.

“Sixty hours,” 6 scoffed.

Back in his room, tucked in his bed and laying comfortably. You, 1, 2, and 5 watched as 3 suddenly arose. He lifted the newspapers blanketing him, and pretty much curled into a ball in the corner.

“You should've just touched my breasts,” 5 said to the cocoon.

“No, he acted like a real man,” 2 replied.

“I’d like you all… to leave,”

“3-”

“Please,”

And so you did. You leaned your head against the door momentarily, and you could hear his not so quiet sobs.

The next day, you drew your numbers again. 8 was, not shockingly, the king again, and you were really starting to wonder what kind of probability that had. You shot 7 a look, which he returned. He picked it up too.

She picked the numbers one and two, and 3 collapsed into a heap, relieved he wasn’t picked.

2 and 6 were picked.

“Wanna go again?” 6 said with a smirk.

2 scoffed but 8 decided, and the game was a simple coin flip. Except loser takes the penalty, which isn’t even how penalties work. In that case it should just be called punishment.

The coin was flipped, and the perky 8 asked their guesses.

“Tails,” 2 said.

“Well, heads.” 6 chuckled.

8 grinned ear to ear, and revealed her hand to show… heads.

Your heart broke a little at 2’s face, not even she could put a brave front in the face of the taser.

There was a moment of banter between them before he tased her, and you all watched as her lifeless body slinked down the metal, laying in a pool of her own fluids. 5 rushed with a mop, then 7 and 6 picked her up. You followed them with a furrow between your brows.

“Why’s she so heavy? She’s even heavier than him,” 6 grunted.

You shot 6 a maybe you’re just weak look and he caught it, glaring at you.

“We earned an extra two days,” 8 giggled, “We’re earning so much time- this is so electrifying!”

“Electryinging?” you scoffed out and she looked at you with her unwavering smile. “This is torture!”

“You haven’t even gotten tased! I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that bad,”

“Unbelievable. You are unbelievable!” you took a step forward before a hand harshly pulled your shoulder back. 6 was back already, and was now defending his little jewel.

He’d have to be defending different kinds of jewels if he didn’t take his hand off of you.

“Calm down,” he gave you a half smile, “No need to get violent,”

“You know she’d sacrifice you in an instant too right? You don’t have immunity because you took it up the a-,”

“What did you say?”

“4-” 7 grabbed your arm

“I said you don’t get immunity just cause she made you her bit-” You were cut off by the sharp sting of the back of his hand against your cheek. He growled.

“Watch what you say 4.”

“I’m not scared of you 6. All it takes is one command and 8 will have you wagging your tail,” you knew this was a bad idea, logically you’re just asking for it now. When he started to lunge at you you began to run, in a wild goose chase around the parameter. You’d been doing pretty good, jumping over the play things and ducking under things, until the stupid top floor tripped you. You landed flat on your back, and 6 pinned you down, with your wrists held above your head in one hand, his other hand free.

“Still not scared?” he asked with crazed eyes. Well, he was going to kill you anyways, might as well. You spat at him, and he let out a shocked chuckle.

“4 please!” 5 pleaded, coming closer to the scene. “6, she’s just angry! Please. Stop!”

“I’ll teach you how to behave”

“She used that line on you didn’t she?” you teased, and he punched you. You groaned, flexing your jaw.

“See how even 3 and 7 know not to cross me?” 6 leaned in really close. “They know not to act like little brats,”

“Careful, you're too barking loud, she might use the shock collar,” another punch, this time harder than the first. You felt the blood trickle down from your nose.

7 walked closer, “6, that’s enough. Both of you stop fighting this is unnecessary,”

You looked at him with an appalled expression. 6 matched it.

“Apologise,” 6 said through gritted teeth.

“Make me,” his hand came to your throat, threatening you.

You took a long breath, “Do it. If the only people you can successfully pick on are women then you’re, what did you call it? Yeah, a pussy,” He pressed really hard, so hard you thought your throat might collapse. You were seeing dots and stars before you regained your thoughts, you weren’t some damsel, and if he went on longer you’d be toast. You brought your knee up harshly between his legs, and he immediately let you go, grabbing at his crotch in agony. You sat up, sputtering as oxygen flooded your system. 6 got up, a borderline predatory look now on his face. He walked towards you slowly, and you could hear pleas of “Stop!” continue, this time from almost everyone apart from 8. You crawled backwards slowly, breathing heavily.

His fests clenched at his sides. Harshly, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up to your feet, then used his body weight to force you to fall against the merry-go-round. Your skull hit one of the projecting bits, and you felt a sharp pain pierce your head.

“You’re all bark. No bite,” he chuckled.

As you opened your mouth to retort, the sound of the taser stopped you dead in your tracks. You both looked over to 7, who held the weapon with a fierce look in his eyes.

“Enough. Both of you,”

“I was only getting started 7,” the man looked back over to you, then up at the time. 34 hours earned from just that part of your fight.

“If you kill her the game ends,”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad trade off, pass me the taser glasses,”

You shakily got up to your feet, wiping the blood that tainted your skin. Your eyes snapped to 7.

“No. You both need to go cool down,” 6 sauntered off at that.

You opened your mouth to bark at him, and 7 harshly slapped a hand over your mouth. 3 and 8 watched this happen- unbeknownst to you.

You two had a bit of a stare down.

He leaned in a little closer, “Don’t make me drag you up there,”

That night, you boiled in your room, stuffing your face with the food delivery. 6 was a bad fighter, hit with his fists without using his head. Had it not been for 2’s hurt wrist, he would've been taken down much sooner. You needed to get 2 to teach you how to fight, then you’d beat him to a pulp, make him regret ever touching you. A lapdog is what he is, obediently following instructions like a housepet, desperate for treats and sweet words. You were brought out of your endless pool of rage by a firm knock. You opened it, half expecting 2 to have woken up to come rant to you, and you were instead met with 7. You rolled your eyes, and let him in.

As soon as you shut the door, he gave you a very serious look, holding your upper arms to keep you close., “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?”

“Fight 6. Bad idea,”

“I’m fine,”

“Yeah but you almost weren’t fine. I’m beginning to think you have a death wish,” his grip tightened. “Did you even try patching yourself up??”

“They’re not bad injuries dude, ju-” he ignored you to wipe some of the blood that had splattered on you.

“I’ll buy you something to patch up, come on,”

Reluctantly, you followed him up to his room. You sat down on top of his desk, he bought some alcohol and cotton pads.

He then returned to stand in front of you, setting the equipment down and scoffing. He tilted your chin up with one hand, then dipped the cotton pad into the alcohol, bringing it up to the wounds. You hissed and he gave you an unimpressed look.

“This is your fault, for instigating,”

“He was acting like 8’s bodyguard. Excuse me if i didn't want to play into her perfect princess fantasy,”

“That man could've killed you without a second glance,”

“Okay and he didn’t,” you spoke firmly.

His voice got slightly louder, “Because I stopped him.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” you matched his tone.

“You couldn’t have asked because you were too busy being beaten to death, princess,”

You scoffed, trying to get off the table but he pushed you back firmly.

He frowned, “I’m not done with you,”

“I am, move.”

“Not moving until I finish this,” he continued to clean at some cuts, you tried pushing his hand away but he just grabbed both of your hands and held them down, his other hand continuing its previous work.

It was silent for a while, tense, quiet. He finished up, planting a soft kiss just under the cut on your cheek. His breath fanned over your neck, and you swallowed.

“You scared the crap out of me,”

“Watching your ex girlfriend get beat up wasn’t satisfying?” you joked, trying to ease the tension.

He rested his head against your shoulder and shook his head, “Far from it,” he turned his head to meet your gaze. “I thought by not responding to your calls, or texts, and avoiding any place I knew you’d be, I could wipe myself clean. Start new. Move on- sigh, I don’t know. Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” at that, he pulled you closer, bodies pressed together, his face tucked into your neck. “Couldn’t move on,” he whispered. “Kept on loving you,”

“Yu,” you responded quietly. This was all too much. Too real. You dreamt of the very moment he’d come crawling back, and you’d send him right back to where he crawled out of, with a big fat REJECTED stamp on his head. Yet, this didn’t feel like a win. It felt like nothing but desires and regrets, because you too wanted this. You too wanted him to hold you, to trust you… to love you. And you wanted to say it, to scream it, to shake him and tell him you hated him then kiss him so intensely your lips bruised. It was almost midnight anyways.

You dropped your shoulder slightly, and he looked at you with a tenderness that you knew from those days. You let out a small sound, almost akin to a cry, and yet it came with no tears.

“It’s getting late,” you spoke quietly, avoiding his gaze. He pulled you off of the table slowly so you’d be on your feet, pressed between him and the metal structure.

“Let me walk you down,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead, the kind of stunt he’d pull to get you to let him back in bed after he had a spat with your cat. He was pulling out all the cards for this apology. He laced his fingers with yours, and you walked down the stairs in relative silence. At your room, he stopped, leaning against the door.

“This is my stop,” you commented, your nerves getting the better of you.

“Mhm,”

You moved to walk past him, but with a simple finger looped in the waistline of your pants he pulled you back towards him. He leaned in really close, leaving only a breath of air between you guys.

“You’re a really good person,” and this time, when he punctuated the last part of the sentence with your nickname… you let him.

The following morning, to no one’s surprise, 6 was the king.

“Three… and seven. Slapping contest, first to chicken out loses. Loser is penalised.”

It was 2 and 3, friends you could even say, so this was even more tragic. You sat on the ground, too preoccupied with the scene about to unfold when you felt the burning sensation of someone’s gaze- 6. His eyes raked over your bruises and cuts, half lidded, scrutinizing you. You made an unflattered face, and both of you returned your gaze to the game.

At this moment, 2 slapped 3 so hard he fell onto the swing and immediately surrendered. As per your program, she tased him, they carried him off, celebrated the increase in hours, and then settled.

Despite the increase in time, they wanted to play one more round today. After picking through the balls, you grabbed yours and uncovered it. One.

6 was the king, again, a lucky jerk.

“Okay… this is fun,” he smiled widely. “Four… and one…” you winced, but tried to stay still. After what you just witnessed, the fear of tasing became more imminent. “Four do a strip tease for one,” Your gasp was so loud you didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were picked. 6 gave a little smirk, and you showed him that you were one. He groaned loudly.

7 raised his hand with a shameful expression, eyes casted down on the fake sneakers he wore.

“Is it too late to switch them?” 6 asked 8.

“That’s against the rules,” 2 advocated for you, and you smiled softly.

“Fine,” 6 sighed, then gave a dirty look to 7. “Do it upstairs, no one wants to see that,”

“I think I’ll just take the penalty,” you said with much uncertainty. If 3 could take the pain for 5, you could do it for 7.

“No, it’s fine,” 7 shut his eyes tightly and adjusted his glasses, then nodded up to his room.

“No, I really don't-”

He walked past you, shoulder bumping into yours as he grabbed your arm to tug you behind him. You continued to plead but he just shushed you harshly. You glanced down at the group, 2 in particular was smirking slightly.

Up the 7 flights of stairs later, he opened the door for you, still staring down as you entered. You leaned against his table, and he adjusted himself awkwardly after the door clicked shut.

“Yu,”

He held a hand up, “It’s not a big deal. I would've gotten tased if it was,”

“You haven’t even looked me in the eyes since getting told to do it,”

“It’s not exactly a walk in the park you know,”

“I-I know. Which is why-”

“You’re really stubborn. Just be quiet for once,” you knew this came from a place of embarrassment, so you let his vile words simmer out. He turned back around to face the door.

He shot you one final glance over his shoulder, then faced the door again, pulling his shirt off. You couldn’t help but trail your eyes over his back. When his arms dropped, you caught sight of the stick and poke you gave him.

“Hey, you kept it!” you got up, stepping closer. He stiffened suddenly, watching you intently as you held his arm to your face, inspecting the very amateur ink. “I thought you’d have gotten it removed,”

“I thought about it,” he responded quietly, “But,”

“But?”

“…You know what,”

You thought about last nights, and the sweet nothings he’d whispered to you. He dropped his head against the door. You sighed in response. Letting go of his arm, you stepped back a few paces. He finally turned around, taking his pants down in a simple motion. It’s a good thing this was the end point, because any further than this would’ve ended in quite the show for the cameras. And you. Your eyes wandered over him again. He gave you the items of clothing, and stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you cold?” you asked him as you went to walk out.

“Freezing. Get it over with,” he huffed.

You paused at the door, turning to look at him again. He shot you a questioning look. You turned to face him, passing your tongue over your teeth.

“Yu,”

“Lord help us all,”

“Let me ask the question,”

“Okay okay, what?”

“Did you mean what you said?” you started, “I thought this would just be a temporary thing between us but…”

“Is this really the time to ask?”

“It’s the time that’ll get me the least questions from the group. 2’s already onto me.”

“Onto you or on you?”

You hit him harshly with his jacket, and he chuckled, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’m serious,” you asked and he put his hands on his hips. Suddenly, the ceiling was a very interesting thing to stare at for you.

“What do you want me to say? What’s the diplomatic answer?”

“I don’t-”

“If I tell you I was serious, you get mad and tell me I have no right. If I tell you I wasn’t, you get mad for me stringing you along,” he swallowed thickly.

“Then why would you say it?”

“Because I was scared,” he stepped forward. “I thought he was going to kill you. Do you know how terrifying that is? I didn’t know…” he swallowed. “Didn’t realise how much I liked having you around…”

You met his gaze, matching its intensity.

His shoulder eased slightly, dropping his posture. “You’re not even gonna say anything?”

“I don’t really know what to say,” you smiled sadly, and he nodded in somber understanding.

You stepped out, showing to the group below that you held his clothing items. Some cheers and whistles, a few shocked giggles from people who expected him to chicken out, but the overall consensus was that it was over. You walked back in, and handed him his clothing. You chose to stare at the wall while he got dressed.

“How much time did we earn?” he asked, and you could hear him unfolding his clothes.

“Two hours,”

“You’re gonna make me look bad,” he sighed and you giggled.

“What did you want me to do?”

“Not be a gentleman- gentlewoman?”

You looked over your shoulder, “You wanted me to check you out? Is this an ego thing?”

He groaned. With his pants on now, he stepped closer, grabbing your upper arm softly. You froze, he was still very much not fully dressed.

“What’re you doing?” you said, still facing the chute.

“Earning us more time,” he twirled you around to face him, smirking when you unintentionally glanced downwards.

“Here? Are you insane?”

He laughed out loud, his hands went up to wipe his face, ridding himself of any hint of a smile in the process. His eyes burned with the intensity of a man who wanted much more.

His lips found your lips, working their way to your jaw, then neck, then shoulder, tugging at the collar of your top for better access. His hands traced your body, going down your sides and stopping at your hips, his thumb rubbing circles into the clothing.

“We shouldn’t-”

“Then tell me to stop,” his voice was abrupt, just barely above a whisper, a rasp to it that sent chills dancing down your spine.

You ignored his suggestion. He continued his endeavour, using techniques you knew would leave a questionable mark. His hands roamed from your hips to your waist, and it snapped you back to reality, eyes looking up at the cameras in front of you, then turning your head to the ones behind you. He grabbed your chin softly, pulling your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me.”

…

Screw it.

You emerged 30 minutes later, frazzled and flushed. The time had increased by a solid 100 hours since you’d last seen it. You did a double take, but 7 just smiled at you discreetly as he descended the tedious steps.

You stared at your shoes, a heat burning your cheeks. You adjusted your clothes for the millionth time, with the way people stared, you considered you may have forgotten to get dressed or something.

“Wasn’t just a strip tease huh,” 6 mused and you turned away, avoiding his gaze.

“What the hell you got under there 7th?” 8 giggled. “Now I’m curious too!”

He sputtered a bit, cheeks going a little red, mostly because he knew the offer was serious.

2 put a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched. She leaned in, “Did you do it safely?” you elbows her harshly in response, and she laughed.

“Can we please change the subject,” you begged, earning laughter from the group.

“100 hours, for 30 minutes. That’s uhm, impressive.” 5 stared at the timer.

“Yeah! Maybe from now on you guys could be our main time earners!” 1 joined in on the fun.

“It would be my pleasure,” you humoured 1.

“Yeah I bet it would be,” 2 quipped back.

“Wait, did you guys fight? What’s with the bruises?” There’s no way 3’s that clueless, he’s definitely pulling your leg, casting the spotlight on the purplish spots on your necks.

“Something like that,” Yu finally spoke up, sharing a smile with 3, who was clearly just teasing, evident by his little smile.

You just groaned awkwardly, holding the back of your neck in an attempt to conceal the evidence- futile attempt.

“Guys please…”

“Do you think the main content earner was 4 or 7?” 8 wiggled her shoulders.

“Hmmm, let me take 4 for a ride and we’ll see” 2 winked.

“I’m leaving.”

“By yourself?” you flipped her off as you walked to your room. She made a kissy noise in response.

Yu watched you leave with a dorky smile on his face, adjusting his glasses. 6 slapped a hand harshly onto his back.

“Didn't know you had it in you.” he said proudly.

7 chuckled awkwardly, pulling at his shirt collar in a sudden heat flash, accidentally revealing he too was not pure of marks. “Are we gonna play another game?”

“I think we earned enough time,” 3 replied.

None were surprised when you found Yu at your door that night, an eased expression on his face. He bore a small smile, shy and nervous, with his hair slightly disheveled.

You leaned against the door, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” you smiled and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Did I take it too far?”

“Not at all. I mean, it was definitely an experience, but not unwelcome. You’re not here for round two are you?” you teased, he shook his head.

“No I uh,” he pulled at the hem of his shirt and cleared his throat, “Actually just wanted to spend some time with you- if you don’t mind,”

He entered, by this time you had invested in a little mattress. You laid down first, opening your arms and he plopped down onto you, setting his glasses next to your bed. You carded through his hair gently, and he hummed.

His lips placed a soft kiss against your arm, eyes moving up to stare at you, “are you sure there’s nothing between you and 2?”

“Yeah, just banter. Is there something between you and 8?” he tsked.

“Never, that woman creeps me out,”

“You and every other human,”

“Minus 6.”

“He’s barely a person,”

He chuckled. With a few hours to midnight, he had to fight back sleep. He yawned, and sighed, and grumbled, but soon enough his words became less and less coherent, and his breathing evened out.

. . .

“I do not. You’re a liar,” he said as he bit into a croissant, then took a sip of his black coffee.

“You do!” you giggled, cutting into your sandwich and taking a bite. “It’s okay it’s cute,”

He nudged your shoulder, causing you to stumble a little, but he made sure it wasn’t enough for you to topple over.

You two, walking like college students, eating and talking like your jobs don’t counteract each other. The crisp autumn air left you both bundled in coats, the cold nipping at your nose. You sniffled.

“It’s not cute,” he took another bite, “Because it doesn’t happen. You’re a delusional woman,”

“Hey!” you scoffed, “You don’t have to believe me but it’s true!”

. . .

Idiot. You giggled to yourself, using your sleeve to wipe a tiny bit of drool. He looked so peaceful from this angle, his head against your stomach and arms lazily around you. Your thumb gently eased the wrinkle between his brows, then traced his under eyes, then his lips. Somewhere far away, you think you’d probably take him back.

A sharp knock came at the door, you pushed him off gently.

As quietly as possible, you opened it and stepped outside.

“Oh. Hey guys,” you smiled at the group, 1, 2 and 3.

“Can we come in? We need to talk, privately,”

Your eyes widened momentarily, “Why don’t we talk in someone else's room?”

“We know he’s in there,” 2 laughed and you shot her a dirty look.

“He’s asleep!” you whispered back, but the door opened behind you. You almost fell back, but caught yourself. A very sleepy Yu stood behind you, adjusting his glasses.

He glanced at you, then at the ground, then sighed deeply, adjusting his glasses.

3 was shocked, “7! You’re here too? Did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” he rasped out.

“Are you feeling better 3?” You asked first.

He nodded with his lips tucked in, “I am. What were you and 7 doing then?”

“Discussing strategy,” Yu smoothed his hair over. They all entered, with him standing by the window as the other floors explained to him that the game was rigged- that someone was rigging it.

“If we confront them with assumptions they’ll just deny it,” he sighed, leaning against the projection. “They’ll hide the evidence of them rigging it, and we’ll be at a loss of cards. They’re bound to slip up soon, we just have to wait for that moment,”

All around, people nodded, and you ushered people to leave in the most polite way possible. Seeing the time, Yu hung around a final moment to peck your cheek, wishing you a good night. You watched him walk out, leaning against the doorframe with a little smile as he ascended. Hidden just a few steps below, 2. Once he left she stepped into view, giving you a knowing look.

“Don’t make it weird all we did was talk,” you started, already so done.

“Earlier too? What conversation prompted a hundred hours. Talk about it more often,”

“Grow up!”

A new day, a fresh start. You all joined the circle for the next game. This time, 1 was king. Good job Yu.

8 gave a short clap, “Your first time no?”

“Four and six,” 1 said, “I’ll flip a coin,”

“Who’s four and six?” 5 asked.

“Four, that’s me,” 7 stated.

“And six?” 1 asked.

A soft noise of surprise came from 8, “Look at that. It’s me!”

5 stood to flip the coin.

“I’ll take heads,” 8 smiled.

“Then I’ll be tails,” 7 responded, hands clasped formally behind his back.

“I’ll flip it then,” 5 said, with a smile that felt far too fearful.

“Wait,” 1 stepped forward. “Could you make sure you flip it on the back of your hand?”

She faltered, then nodded.

She flipped the little gold piece, and removed her shaking hand.

“Tails,”

8 pouted, and an uncanny silence loomed over.

“Me?” she glanced over at the group. “This is lame,”

“Lame? You were very excited about the penalty before this,” 2 scowled.

“Yeah I guess I was. Now it’s lame though,”

“Nope, it’s not lame at all. This is so much fun I’m having the time of my life right now,” 3 proclaimed.

“Stick to your promises,” 2 continued.

8 pondered for a moment, then as if a ‘eureka!’ moment, she raised a finger and said a simple okay.

You all watched from the sidelines as she knelt before Yu, moving her hair out of the way, seemingly unphased. He however, very phased. His eyes held a look of disconcertment,

“Okay, I’ll count to three, then tase…” he inhaled sharply. “..one..”

People were getting restless, anticipating the humiliation she’d face.

“...two..” why was he so nervous?

“...three,” just as the machine came to life and inched towards her, Yu was harshly kicked in the ribs. He groaned as he fell, clutching his side. His glasses had come off, and his unobscured wide eyes stared up at his assailant- 6.

“What are you doing!” you gasped, frozen in place.

“Why?” Yu’s quiet voice asked, his face wounded with blood escaping his lip and eyebrow.

“It’s lame to be predictable,” 6 responded coldly, grabbing the taser, and crouching next to the fallen man.

He glanced over to the cameras, “We needed a twist. Don’t you agree?” he stated, just before tasing his bare neck, eliciting a loud scream followed by loss of consciousness.

A/N: this chapter is also so FREAKY sorry guys I have a problem. + Had an exam so late upload sorry </3 :( Taglist: @entr4p3

#the 8 show #7th floor #Philip Yu #the 8 show x reader #Philip yu x reader #7th floor x reader #kdrama #k drama

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