#no matter what they actually are ridiculous

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 9 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He shows you a softer side of him. Until he doesn’t.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, rough sex, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, knife, over-stimulation, bondage, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, age gap, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

"How old are you, actually?"

He raised a brow, but didn't yet look up from his newspaper. You could tell you had piqued his interest by the way his eyes crinkled into a smile. It even seemed genuine to a certain degree.

You sat beside him and watched him with a keen eye, not hiding that you were staring at him.

"Is there a reason why you want to know?"

You shook your head. "You won't tell me your name or anything else about you that matters. At least give me that."

He hummed softly. "I'm forty-five." He finally looked up from the paper and regarded you with mild amusement. "Is that a problem?"

You shook your head again. It indeed wasn't. You had long guessed that he was quite a bit older than you, but to you he didn't come off like a lecherous old man who was after young women to keep him young and moist.

He was simply...older.

Not old.

"No, I guess not."

He looked back down at the paper, while you kept shifting on the couch beside him restlessly.

He managed to successfully ignore your restlessness for a minute, before he sighed and set the paper down.

"I know I will regret this, but what is going on?"

"Have you been with many women before?"

The ridiculousness of the question didn't just surprise him. To your own ears, the question sounded even sillier spoken out loud. But you couldn't help it.

The question kept tormenting your mind and it had been doing so for days. You had to ask or you would go insane. Even more so than you already were.

You couldn't tell why the thought of him with someone else made you feel like you were in the worst humanly possible pain, but it did.

It made you feel like you were slowly suffocating under the weight of a thousand stones.

And how pointless was it?

It was in the past. You were the future, right?

Good God, what were you even thinking about?

"Are you jealous?"

He didn't even try to mask the amusement in his voice. For some reason that made everything even worse. Of course you were being fucking ridiculous.

Your face flushed a deep shade of crimson and you looked down at your hands. "I'm not jealous." You murmured.

Despite not even looking at him, you could sense the wide, unhinged grin that took possession of his face.

"You are." He said victoriously. "You're jealous over me."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to come up with something sharp and witty, but the truth was simply that.

You were jealous.

More so, your body stood in flames of wild, raging jealousy.

"Aw, come on. I was just teasing you." He tipped your chin up. "Don't pout."

You forced yourself to keep your eyes on him. His expression had softened somewhat, but there was still a hint of amusement and satisfaction in his eyes. You hated him.

Especially did you hate his eyes.

Even more so when they softened.

You hated everything about him. The way he moved and looked so effortlessly sexy when he did. The way he looked whenever he stood in the kitchen, flipping the pan around like a professional chef. You had once caught yourself staring at him when he tossed a grape in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth. He had failed miserably. At first it hit his cheek and then it landed on the ground, before it rolled under the fridge. Something rather inelegant, coming from such a dashing man.  The way he looked at the grape and then at you, looking caught in the act. The way his lips curved into that delicious smile. Almost sheepishly.

Almost innocent.

“It’s your fault. Your presence is distracting to me.”

Your heart ached when you realized it.

You didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. But you tried to. God, how hard you tried.

“Can you just answer the question?” You murmured.

He hummed and looked to the side in thought. “I’m not sure how many it were. I didn’t exactly keep count.”

Awful.

“Were all of them victims to your incomparable abduction skills?”

He smirked. Your relationship had come a long way. Now you were allowed to tease him, without having to expect a punishment in return.

Sometimes.

It depended on his mood. And by now, you had gotten pretty good at telling when he was in a good mood and when he was to be avoided and obeyed.

It was easier to be attentive when your health was at stake.

Or your life.

“No”, he mused with a strange sense of sincerity, “and also you came along willingly.”

You scoffed. “You’re even crazier than I thought. Or just fairly ignorant.”

He laughed. God, you hated when he laughed.

It was so easy to lose yourself in the sound of it.

“Whatever it was, you’re here now. And as for these other women…It doesn’t matter how many they were, none of them held any meaning to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. But you did? You meant something to him?

You couldn’t ask him that. As much as you wanted, your lips couldn’t form those words. Your fear of being mocked or rejected was far too great. The thought of him making fun of you for so obviously falling in love with him, him, your tormentor, him, your bane, your curse, your horror. It  was terrifying to you.

He would never love you. He was incapable of having these kind of feelings. Of course, he had never said that. But you could tell. People like him had obsessions. No more. No less.

You were just something pretty for him, something to put on his shelf and look at with a satisfied smile. Something to use when he got bored or excited. And then you’d go on the shelf again. And by the time you became boring to him, by the time your beauty would begin to fade and signs of age and life would show on your face or the color of your hair, you’d be gone.

Gone like the wind or the ocean breeze. You’d be gone and he’d obsess over something else.

The thought made your heart ache with such fervor, it nearly made you cry, then and there. And what was the worst about it? The thought of him killing you, it didn’t hurt you half as much as the thought of him replacing you.

You had always known you had a weakness within you. Something that might accept when things got worse, something that refused to fight at some point and simply gave up. You had experienced it with your mother.

You just didn’t know how deep this weakness ran.

When he saw the distant look in your eyes, his amusement faded and was replaced by something softer. He frowned slightly and held out his hand to you.

“Come.” He murmured. “Come, sit on my lap.”

Reluctantly you took his hand and let him pull you on his lap. You straddled his thigh and faced him, but the expression on your face was still one of silent sadness.

He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, before he cupped your cheek in his palm. The softness. There was the softness again. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

You hated him the most when he was gentle.

“But you’re not like that.” He said quietly.

When your brows furrowed in a mixture of quiet disbelief and uncertainty, he shook his head and gently trailed his thumb down your cheek. His touch was so gentle, it made something in your chest ache. Your heart, most likely.

His eyes glowed in that soft brown and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He whispered. “I know that I’m deranged, sweet girl. I know I’m probably not what you ever anticipated for your life. But one thing about me is steadfast and true. I’m honest.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you inhaled a shaky breath. “So?” You murmured.

“So…” He murmured back as he gently placed his free on your hip to steady you. “I don’t think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Because, sweet girl”, he purred and leaned closer to brush a soft kiss along your cheek, “Because I say so.”

Your eyes slowly fell shut and you felt yourself lean into his embrace. It felt good to be held by him. It felt safe, which was ironic enough.

He slowly slid his fingertips under your shirt and up your spine. It was one of the best things about him. He never ran them up your waist. He always skipped your waist.

The word mouse was as dead as Latin in these halls.

And he always asked if you had eaten already and when you lied, he could tell.

Never before had you met someone so attentive. When he wasn’t angry with you or angry because of anything else, he was the perfect man.

The way he looked at you was enough to make you swoon. The way he touched you enough to make you shiver.

The way he kissed his way from your cheek down to your neck made you gasp every time. And even when he ravaged you, he somehow always made sure to check if you were still there. You never got the chance to detach and stare at the ceiling, stare at the wall, stare at the floor. He caught your gaze, tipped your chin up and made sure that you were there.

That you wanted to be there.

And you didn’t have to say when you didn’t. He caught on that, too.

And then he’d let you sleep.

Or read.

“Are you tired?” He whispered with a soft nip to your earlobe.

The sigh that came over your lips was involuntary. A part of your mind was still hung up on the women. The women who had been there before you.

Were they prettier? Probably.

Were they normal? Most likely.

Did they make him happy?

Was he ever happy?

Was he even able to be happy? Did deranged people get a happy ending? Or even a happy middle? Maybe a very happy start?

There was something dead inside of him. You couldn’t tell if it was his heart, his soul or something else. But it was there. Just like there was something dead inside of you.

But sometimes you asked yourself if it was really dead or if maybe, just maybe, it had simply been asleep up until then.

You nodded slowly. You were always tired. That was part of being depressed and he caught on that, as well.

“I could run you a bath, sweet girl.” He murmured against your skin as he slowly rubbed his palms against your bare back under your shirt. It made you shiver and only ever press closer to him. “Or I could cook something for you.”

You shook your head.

“Are you still sad?” He whispered in your ear.

You swallowed again and nodded. Were you ever not sad?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Go get daddy your favorite book.”

The way your heart skipped a beat was almost audible. It always caught you off-guard when he did that. To refer to himself as daddy was bad enough in the bedroom, but when he did it like that, just out of nowhere, it made your skin flush in embarrassment. Yet at the same time, your heart raced. He wasn’t the only one deranged.

“My favorite book?” You whispered, sounding more breathless than anticipated.

He nodded. “Your favorite book from the shelf.”

With a slow, deliberate movement you climbed off of his lap and slowly moved towards the book shelf. You felt his gaze burn into your back. As much as it made you shiver and shudder, it also had something comforting about it. The way he sat leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over it and his ankle resting on his knee. God, he was perfect.

You swallowed and your eyes slowly raked over the rows of books until they stopped on Jane Eyre. It wasn’t your favorite book in the world, but it gave you comfort. All Bronte-sisters did. Getting a glimpse of their mind always made you feel like you weren’t the only sad and complicated person in the world. There had been others before and there’d be more long after you were gone.

You slowly picked it up and made your way back to him. He took the book from you and patted his lap.

“Lay your head here.”

Your eye brows rose, but you didn’t protest. Instead you curled up on the couch and carefully rested your head on his thigh. Before you even fully settled down, he buried his fingers in your hair and gently threaded them through the length of it. You suppressed a quiet, contented sigh. And when you heard his soft voice as he began to read, so gentle and composed, it made your eyes snap shut.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning, but since dinner the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so…”

You couldn’t even properly focus on his words. All you could think about were his hands in your hair, his soft voice and the warmth radiating off of him.

You lay like that, listening to the soft sounds of him reading Jane Eyre to you, until you felt like you might fall asleep any second. Which was exactly what you did.

It didn’t even take all too long.

There was a part of your mind that expected to wake up with a blade against your throat or Hell – not even wake up at all.

But you couldn’t help it. The trust came on its own. It was hard not to trust him when he was like that. Caring and gentle and concerned.

You had a dreamless sleep and by the time your eyes fluttered open, you felt better rested than you had in forever. You slowly blinked and tilted your head up to see where you were and what was going on. What you saw was him, the book tightly shut beside him and you found he was staring down at you. His expression was still soft and his hand still in your hair. You blinked slowly.

“How long did I sleep?” You murmured hoarsely.

He glanced down at his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Why?” He mused. “You needed it.”

“But wasn’t that uncomfortable?” You yawned softly and rubbed your eyes, something that made him smile.

“No, sweetness. You look endearing when you sleep. I could watch you all day.”

A soft flush crept up your cheeks and you averted your gaze. You felt as embarrassed as you felt in love.

You were sure by now. There was no point in lying to yourself. You were in love with him.

And you were certain, given enough time, he’d break your heart.

Or your bones.

Whatever came first.

The rest of the evening was just as peaceful. You sat at the kitchen table and watched as he cooked something you couldn’t even come close to pronouncing. When he still tried to teach you and you made a fool of yourself, he smiled in amusement and something akin to pride.

“You’ll learn it one day.”

He was so patient at times. And at other times…

You finished dinner and stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. It was such a normal thing. A normal Sunday. Brushing your teeth to go to bed, a silken nightgown kissing your skin while you did.

He spoiled you. You knew that. He brought home more and more and more clothes. One piece more beautiful than the other. And as much you always assumed you’d look like an idiot wearing them, because you just weren’t the kind of girl for silk and beautiful things, you ended up loving them all. It made you feel beautiful.

He made you feel beautiful.

You rinsed your mouth and washed your face, pat dried it with a fluffy towel and shot a last glance at yourself in the mirror. You looked nothing like the girl who had begged her mother to stop being so cruel. And at the same time, you looked just like her.

Like a girl playing dress-up, but her sad eyes stayed the same.

The faint mark on your cheek was still there, reminding you subtly of what he was capable of. Not even close to what he was supposedly capable of. You sighed and turned off the lights, before you quietly tiptoed through the dark hallway. You were already on your way to your bedroom, when you saw that his door stood slightly open. There was a faint light that illuminated through the hallway and you couldn’t help yourself. You stopped and stared at the door, unsure what to do. Should you go in? Or should you go to your own room and loose yourself in your thoughts?

But before you could think about it, the door opened and revealed his form in no more than his boxers. God, he was perfect.

You were certain you had never seen a more handsome man in your life. Even when he was angry and when you hated him. He was still so fucking perfect.

“Join me.” He purred. You knew what that meant. And even though he didn’t say it, you still knew. You had a choice. Even though he had made abundantly clear, he’d fuck you even when you didn’t feel like it (something that hadn’t happened so far), today you had the choice.

You could go to your own bed and sleep in peace. His soft voice revealed that.

Instead you slowly stepped forward until you stood in the middle of his bedroom. The red notebook on the bed caught your attention and immediately you felt a knot form in your stomach. The cruel reminder of the day he cut your hair and attempted to give you a new name. You swallowed and slowly looked up at him. He caught your gaze and his own landed on the book. Something in his eyes hardened briefly, but he quickly concealed it. He closed the door and went over to the bed, where he picked up the notebook and tossed it under the bed, where it landed with a soft thud.

He was still angry. You had snuck in his room and invaded his privacy.

You had disobeyed him.

He didn’t care that so many things had changed since then.

You had disobeyed him. And he hadn’t forgotten. He probably never would.

He forced a soft sigh over his lips, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Probably a stupid thing to do, but to you, it felt right.

He shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice was firm and measured, as he stepped closer. The lion walk.

He stopped when his chest nearly touched yours and you were forced to look up at him.

The memory of the gentle reading and your nap in the living room wavered in your head. You were sure he was going to make you forget about it real soon.

As if on cue, he wrapped a hand around your throat and made you gasp. With a low growl, he leaned in and captured your lips in a rough kiss, forcing your mouth open and his tongue inside.

An involuntary moan slipped out of your mouth and against his. And when his hand squeezed tighter, you moaned again. He pushed you back until you hit the wall.

“Get on your fucking knees and crawl over to the bed.” He gritted out.

Your chest heaved rapidly. You couldn’t tell if he was still angry about the notebook or if his outburst had another reason. A more carnal one. Whatever it was, you slowly slid to your hands and knees and began to crawl over to the bed. By the time you reached it, he appeared behind you and put a hand on the back of your neck, pushing your face down against the mattress.

You gasped again and rolled your head over, so he wouldn’t smother you. To your surprise, he let you.

He used his free hand to push two of his fingers in your mouth, making you gag by the sudden intrusion and the intensity of it. This time, he didn’t use them to bruise your throat. Instead he pulled them out and swiftly slid them between your legs from behind.

You whimpered softly as he forced your legs apart and ran his fingers along your already damp panties.

“What is this?” He growled. “Didn’t I tell you not to fucking wear these at night?”

You swallowed. Uh-oh.

“I-“

“No.” He hissed out and spun you around, so that the back of your head landed on the mattress and you sat down on the floor. “Take them off.”

You swallowed and moved quickly to slide the panties off of you. You held them in your hand awkwardly, unsure what the hell to do. He looked so furious, it made you nervous.

He yanked them away from you. Then he used one hand to roughly grasp your chin and force your mouth open and the other one he used to force the soaked panties into your mouth.

You inhaled sharply and stared up at him with wide eyes. Of course it was degrading. And yet you felt yourself grow more and more wet.

“On your stomach.” He gritted out. “Now.”

You took a shaky breath and quickly scurried around to lay on your stomach.

“Good girl. You’re finally listening.”

He went over to the wardrobe and rummaged through it, until he found what he was looking for. His belt. Oh, you had a bad feeling yet again.

“P-please.” You gasped out, but it was muffled against the fabric in your mouth.

“Shut up.” He said sharply.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God-

You had a strange and unpleasant Deja-vu, thinking about your mother and her creative ways of punishment.

But he didn’t use the belt to hit you. Instead he used it to tie up your wrists. You nearly sighed in relief, but you knew better than to do that. You knew what that might bring.

So you simply lay still and let him tie you up like that.

You felt incredibly helpless in this position, but the thrill of it was strong enough to make you drip. You closed your eyes.

“You’re such a bad girl.” He murmured. “Always sneaking around, doing things you shouldn’t, huh? Is that how you’re trying to please me? With disobedience?” He scoffed. “You just never learn, do you?”

He crouched down before you and regarded you with a long, scrutinizing look. You almost expected him to slap you. But instead you witnessed how he slowly sucked on his fingers, the ones he had pushed in your mouth just a minute ago. The sight stirred something deep within you and you shifted on the bed.

“Bad girl needs to learn her lesson.” He purred.

Before you even knew it, he was already rubbing his fingers over your wetness and circling your clit in a way that made you moan. Again, he knew just where to touch you. A thought that filled you with as much jealousy as it did pleasure. But somehow, the jealousy always won.

“Does that feel good?” He murmured. You nodded eagerly, squirming and arching against his hand, desperately seeking the friction that would bring you to oblivion.

He hummed softly and kept moving his fingers, only ever picking up the pace. “Like that, baby? Do you like that, hm?”

You moaned again and buried your face in the pillow, not even caring about the piece of clothing in your mouth, until he sharply removed his hand. You let out a whine and raised your head just enough to see the satisfied smirk on his lips.

“You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, huh? Oh, you’re severely mistaken, princess.”

And just like that his hand was back, resuming the movement and having you writhe in a mixture of agony and pleasure.

“Please.” You muffled out again. You were more than ready to cum, your hips twitching treacherously. And he withdrew his hand again, a mock pout on his face.

“Sweet girl is so desperate for me to let her cum.” He hummed. “Be a good girl and beg daddy to let you cum.”

You swallowed thickly, which wasn’t too easy with your panties still in your mouth. “Please let me cum, daddy.”

The embarrassment was still there, your face still flushed, but you didn’t care one bit. You needed this, needed him.

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Please”, you begged again, “please let me cum, daddy.”

He smirked. “I don’t think you deserve that yet. First you’ll be a good girl for me.”

Your hands strained against the leather of the belt against your own will, but it didn’t help anything. You were still tied and helpless. So you simply nodded.

You licked your lips which had dried out, when he finally freed your mouth.

“Who are you?”

You slowly looked up at him. “Your girl.” You whispered.

He hummed in agreement. “What else are you?”

Your face flushed deeply when you thought about what he wanted to hear. “I…”

“Say it.” He said in a more demanding tone and grasped your chin in a bruising grip again.

“Your cumslut.” You said quietly, but it was barely audible. It seemed good enough for him, because he didn’t insist you repeated it.

“Good girl.” He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your lips. “Spread your legs for me, my good girl. I want to fuck you. Make space for daddy.”

Your face flushed even more, but you obeyed. You slowly parted your thighs, making space for him. You took a shaky breath when you felt him settle behind you on the bed, one hand grasping at your wrists, the other one pressed into the mattress next to your face, so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight.

You hadn’t even realized when he’d stripped off his boxers, until you felt the tip of his cock rub along your entrance. A needy whine came over your lips and you closed your eyes.

“Beg me for it, baby.” He whispered in your ear from behind. A shiver ran down your spine and you held back a moan, when he began to rub his cock over your core in a torturously slow movement. You were so wet and ready and yet he held himself back.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You whispered, unable to open your eyes. You were so ashamed and embarrassed that it nearly choked the words silent on your tongue, but you still forced them out.

“Louder.”

You swallowed thickly. “Please.” You managed. “Please fuck me, daddy. Please, let me feel you.” You were surprised by how desperate you sounded.

Even more so by how desperate you felt.

“That’s my good girl.” In a swift movement, he thrusted forward and filled you to the brim, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size, before he began to fuck into you. You head fell forward and you released a breathless moan against the pillow.

It was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but the pain subsided quickly, when he began to hit the sweet spot inside of you as if he was desperate to make you cum as quickly as possible. He had never taken you from behind before and you had no idea how incredible it felt. Every thrust hit the right spot and it didn’t take you longer than a few seconds until you felt the need inside you build up intensely.

“Oh God.” You breathed out. “Oh God, please.”

He grunted in your ear, a sound that made you all the more aroused. The sound of his quick breaths and the way they hit your ear was almost too much. And when he bit down on your earlobe hard enough to make you cry out in pain, it was too much and you came.

You came with an intensity that made it impossible for you to stay quiet. You cried out in a way that sounded surprising to your own ears. You had never been much of a moaning girl, but that was too good. Too hard.

Too much.

The pleasure quickly shifted into over-stimulation when he didn’t stop thrusting into you, even after your walls clenched around him. He moaned again and you bit down on the pillow, your legs trembling furiously.

“Please.” You gasped out. “Please. Too much-“

“Good.” He growled and began to fuck into with even more intensity. You were close to crying, it felt almost painful, but at the same time you could tell you were almost getting there again.

“I beg you.” You cried out. “I’m begging you. Please.”

“Yes, beg me, my little cumslut.” He groaned in your ear as he kept moving furiously. “It won’t make me stop.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and your hips twitched again, desperate to get away. You strained against the binds again, but he just held your wrists tighter. Until he released them and instead pushed two fingers in your mouth.

“Spit.” He hissed.

You moaned against him and tried to obey, but it was hard with someone thrusting his fingers in your mouth as if trying to hit the back of your throat. You spat down on them and coated them in your saliva, until you felt him pull them out and instead rub your clit with his slick fingers again.

You nearly screamed when he did and you felt the excitement burn up again, until you were almost ready to cum. But you were afraid, afraid that he’d keep going until you couldn’t take any more, until you’d start crying and even bleeding maybe.

“Please.” You cried out again, your voice breaking with every thrust.

“Shut up.” He hissed as he rubbed your clit in a way that made it impossible for you to shut up.

“What are you?”

“Your cumslut.” You cried out.

“My cumslut.” He gritted out again. He was so furious. So angry. And he was keen on taking it out on you. Before you knew it, his hand wrapped around your throat tightly again. “I’ll punish if you cum before I tell you to.”

Your eyes shot open and you nearly choked. You gasped for air. He wasn’t kidding. You knew he would. You tried your best not to, but it was near impossible.

“Please-“

Your body betrayed you. And you came. With his hand around your throat and a loud, shuddery gasp, you came.

Your walls clenched around him again, something that made him moan out and the sound only intensified the feeling inside of you.

When your body stopped trembling, his movements stilled and he pulled his hand away.

“You disobeyed. Stupid girl.”

“Please, I didn’t want-“

He pulled back roughly and stood up, standing beside the bed and staring down at you with wide, crazed eyes.

“Gun or knife. Choose.”

Oh God.

You felt the way the blood seemed to leave your face and your brain. You opened your mouth and closed it several times. Was he going to kill you? Was this the end?

Did he make you cum, just to kill you?

Had he only read to you, because this was your last day on earth?

When he said you meant something to him, was that a lie?

Were you just his to torment, his to get rid of?

You felt tears sting your eyes. You wanted to cry and beg and plead. You immediately missed the man he had been three hours ago. The man you fell in love with. The husband type of guy. The silly man, who didn’t catch the grape.

“Please.” You whispered and your voice cracked.

“If you don’t choose”, he gritted out, “I will.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you rolled over just enough to face him fully. Suddenly you were more than thankful that he didn’t rip your pretty nightdress off when he began to fuck you. Dying naked sounded even more horrifying to you. Dying was bad enough. But naked?

“I-“

“Too late.” He bit out.

He rummaged through the wardrobe again and came back with a kitchen knife. He kept a fucking knife in his wardrobe?

You let out a horrified gasp and tried to back away against the wall, but it wasn’t easy. You struggled against the belt that kept your wrists tied up desperately, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

And suddenly you were sure.

This was the end of you.

The end of a miserable life with an even more miserable ending.

He slammed down the knife beside your head and rolled you onto your back.

You stared at him with wide eyes and wet lashes.

“Please.” You whispered again, against the sound of a choked sob. What could you say to convince him not to kill you? What could you do? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were done for.

This was it.

“Spread your legs.”

You swallowed thickly. He would really kill you, while he was inside you?

The thought brought even more tears to your eyes.

“Please. I-“

“Now.”

Against your better judgement, you obeyed. You slowly parted your legs again, letting him in. Your arms hurt terribly, with your weight on them and now his was added.

He picked up the knife and pressed the blade against your throat hard enough for you to feel it, but not enough to cut you. And you let out a sharp gasp, when he pushed forward and suddenly he was fucking you again.

“My good girl.” He murmured and let out a soft moan. “Oh, my good girl, you trust me, don’t you?”

He began to move faster and harder, causing you to moan, despite yourself. You were still crying. The feel of the cold blade against your skin was enough to make sure of it.

But the pleasure rolled over you in waves, despite your fear.

You released a sob and nodded.

“My good girl. My darling girl. My sweet girl.” He whispered and pressed the knife down slightly tighter, but still not enough to cut you.

His other hand wandered up and he pressed his fingers into your cheeks, enough to make you moan out again.

“Say it.” He growled.

“I’m your girl.” You whispered shakily.

“Again.”

He was growing closer, you could tell. His movements, once controlled, became more and more reckless and his moans grew louder.

“I- I’m your girl.” Your insides twitched.

“Fuck, yes, you are. My girl. My good girl.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust and you were sure. You would…

Oh, fuck.

You came in a way you never had before. You clenched around him yet again and moaned desperately, gasping for air and not caring a bit about the cold metal pressed against your throat.

Instead, you felt it seemed to intensify the feeling somehow.

You were so helpless.

The moment you came, you heard him moan louder than before and his body tensed. With a low groan, he came deep inside you, twitching and throbbing.

A moment later, he let the knife slip from his hand and it rolled off the bed with a loud click. His head dipped forward and he buried his face in your neck as he rode out his release. He opened his mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to your neck.

And suddenly you were sure.

He wouldn’t let you go and you were special.

But was that really a good thing?

“Oh God.” He breathed out when he slowly came down from his high. Your hips twitched in exhaustion and over-stimulation. You had never felt so worn-out and satisfied at the same time.

You didn’t even realize how you were still crying, until he pulled his head back to look at you. The fury was gone. He was much more calm now and the softness was back.

Just like that.

His brows furrowed and he gently cupped your face in his hands.

“Did I hurt you?” He whispered.

Your eyes fell shut and you nodded. You sniffled softly.

His head fell forward aagain nd he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. Then your nose, and then your cheek. Kissing away your tears. A moment later, you felt the salt on your lips when he brushed his over them, kissing you softly.

“I would never kill you. You know that, right?”

You swallowed thickly. Just a minute earlier you had been sure he would stab you to death.

But you forced yourself to nod.

“Good.” He whispered. “Because I would never kill you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He smiled and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“At least not unless you gave me a reason to.”

___________________________________________________

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210 @i-might-be-vanny @cupidzslvt @k1rapark3r @vyladsgirl @jayyourbabe @yeaiamme2 @babyscilence @abcde-12345dorito @madzpm @o9sessions @dilfismz @idenack @sunburngal @prettysatoru @newtscreatures347269 @4j4ax @yru3xme @rafecamsgirlll @recordofragnarokfan2 @hayakamis-blog @kttb @fictionalmen-dilflover @puddingknows @wanderlustingcastaway @magicseahorse

If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

Author's note: Sorry guys, his insanity won over this one. But I'm positive he'll show us another side of him in the future!

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

You’d never understand.

Those words actually really hurt William. It didn’t matter that William really knew what this was all about, it didn’t matter that Isa told him. What mattered was that Sebastian didn’t want to tell him. William was just… so hurt, so upset, and angry that his boyfriend didn’t want to tell him about his real doubts. And that he truly thought he would leave him when his appearance changes due to chemo. That was just ridiculous, and William couldn’t believe that Sebastian thought he was this kind of person.

“How can you say that? You really think that I wouldn’t understand you?” William said, trying to keep his voice steady. But it was hard. His voice was trembling, he was very upset. But he was really keeping himself in check, trying to remain calm and collected.

“You can make a good decision. Good decision is to get treatment.” William said then, a bit more firmly now. He was feeling… desperate. He couldn’t let Sebastian put his life at stake for something so… so silly! No, of course he understood how important looks were for his boyfriend, but… but surely his health and life should be above that! 

William wanted to give Sebastian a piece of his mind, but he couldn’t do that without revealing that Isa told him everything. So he tried to coax Sebastian into telling him everything on his own. 

“Baby… if you want to grow old with me, if we have those kinds of plans, if we want to commit for life… how can there be secrets between us? How can there be doubts? How can you say I wouldn’t understand…?”

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[whisperofwonder]

Wife Guy

The wife guys of Haikyuu

(The term does have some negative connotations but I don't mean it like that here. They're just some dudes who really love their wife. Cool? Cool.)

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi x wife!reader - ~300 words each

(if someone else needs to be here, tell me. I might write it.)

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Come on. He's the ultimate unironic wife guy.

You, his wife, are the light of his life. He adores you. He doesn't shut up about you. Your friends and family know this, the Jackals definitely know this, even his fans know this because he can't resist posting about you even when the social media managers get on his case. The moment your name or the words "my wife" pass his lips, anyone within earshot knows that it's all over.

He never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you. You need to know that, in his eyes, every little thing about you is perfect. Not only that, but he's a really touchy guy. He loves holding your hand, putting his arm around you, barraging you with kisses, any form of skin to skin contact with you. You and everyone around you have gotten used to the constant PDA over the years. He's just so pure and sweet about it that no one can even say a thing about it.

One of the things he loves about being a professional athlete is that it gives him the means to spoil you. Designer items, the latest tech, lush vacations, whatever it is that catches your eye, he's already got his credit card out. He's not trying to buy your love, he's showering you in his. No matter how often you insist that all you need to be happy is him, he can't resist a little treat every now and then.

The day you agreed to marry him was one of the best days of his life. Every time he takes notice of the ring on his finger, a little jolt of joy goes through him, even after all this time. The mere fact that he gets to spend the rest of his life loving you is simply unmatched.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

There's a reason that Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer is written as a knight in every single medieval AU. He's chivalrous, hard-working, and utterly devoted to his wife. He might be quieter about it, but his love for you is an undercurrent to everything. From the kiss pressed to your forehead when he gets up to start the day to the moment he pulls you against his chest in bed each night, there are a hundred little moments when he shows just how much you mean to him.

Most obvious to everyone around him is the small smile that comes across his face every single time he talks about you. "Oh, my wife picked it out." "Yeah, she did make this." "I'm taking her to dinner tonight, actually."

You will never walk closest to the street on his watch. Forgot your jacket? No you didn't, he tossed it in the back seat. When you're washing dishes after dinner, he's right there with the towel to dry. Craving ice cream at 10 pm? The corner store is only a few minutes walk for him, no it's no trouble, don't be ridiculous. It all just goes to show that he's constantly thinking of you - what you might need, what you might want, what might make you smile. If it's within his power, why wouldn't he do it for you? It's just inconceivable.

You make his life better. All he wants is to do the same for you. He might never say it out loud, but being married to you is the fairy tale life he hadn't dared to hope for. Spending every day by your side is enough to make him the happiest man in the world.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

His wife is his person. The world is full of irritants, uncomfortable situations, people who rub him the wrong way. You are the one that soothes it all away. His safe space. Coming home to you every day feels like a weight sliding from his shoulders.

He took to the simple day-to-day of married life so well. Dating was never his scene. Truth be told, you've felt married long before he put a ring on your finger. Everyone says the pair of you are the token old married couple. He might scoff, but to him it's the best kind of compliment.

He takes real pride in the home you share together. It's a sacred place that deserves to be kept neat and clean and comfortable. No matter what kind of day he has, he'll always spend at least a little time making sure everything is running smoothly for you, keeping up with the small things that he knows make your life a little easier.

His favorite moments are the quiet ones you share together. When either of you has had a less than perfect day, it's an unspoken rule that you'll be spending the evening together, curled up in your own little world where nothing else matters. Nothing is more comforting to him than the feel of you in his arms, breathing in your familiar scent. Everything else simply melts away.

Marrying you was the easiest decision he's ever made. There was no alternative. In the course of his life, he knows that he's doing something right, because with you by his side, he knows he can face anything else that may come.

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT PT.2

paige x azzi

warning: drinking, smoking, sexual content!!!

word count: 13.7

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me all night to post 😭 everything got turned around but here we are!! This is literally just for all you whores that requested a part 2. This is NEVER happening again so I hope yall enjoy it 😒. I combined a few different part 2 requests into this. Leave live reacts and comments if you can!!

—————————————————————————

The room was quiet, only the occasional murmur of voices and faint music coming from Paige’s phone filled the space. They were sprawled on her bed, the soft glow of sunlight spilling through the curtains. Azzi was lying across Paige’s chest, her head tucked beneath Paige’s chin as she scrolled aimlessly through social media. Paige held the phone just above them, tilting it slightly so they could both see the screen.

Every so often, Azzi would chime in with a comment or swipe her finger across the screen when Paige skipped something she wanted to see. Paige didn’t mind—for the most part. But Azzi’s habit of rewinding videos or insisting on watching long ones tested her patience.

"Seriously?" Paige groaned as Azzi scrolled back to replay a video. "This one’s like two minutes long. I don’t care about that stupid trend."

Azzi barely glanced up, muttering, "Shhh, it’s funny."

Paige rolled her eyes dramatically and, with a sigh, tossed her phone toward the foot of the bed. It landed with a soft thud against the blanket. "There. Problem solved."

Azzi gasped in betrayal, twisting to look at the abandoned phone. "Paige!"

"Too boring," Paige declared with a smirk, cutting off whatever protest Azzi was about to make by grabbing her hips and pulling her up so she was straddling Paige’s waist. "This is more entertaining."

Azzi laughed, her hands automatically finding balance against Paige’s stomach. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

Paige tilted her head, feigning offense. "That’s not what you were saying this morning."

Azzi groaned, her cheeks flushing faintly as she rolled her eyes. "Oh, my God. Can you not?" She leaned back slightly, preparing to climb off Paige to grab the phone, but Paige’s hands tightened on her hips, keeping her in place.

Azzi gave her a playful glare. "What?"

"You gotta give me a kiss for calling me annoying," Paige said matter-of-factly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Since when is that a rule?"

Paige grinned. "Since you started calling me annoying every two seconds. I gotta get something out of it."

Azzi shook her head, biting back a laugh. "You’re actually ridiculous." But there was no real protest in her voice as she leaned down, cupping Paige’s face with both hands. Her lips brushed softly against Paige’s, lingering for just a moment before she started to pull away.

Paige had other plans. Her arms wrapped tightly around Azzi’s waist, locking her in place and deepening the kiss before she could get too far. Azzi’s initial surprise melted quickly as she relaxed into it, her hands sliding from Paige’s cheeks to her shoulders. What started as teasing grew into something warmer, their breaths mingling as they fell into their familiar rhythm.

A sharp knock on the door broke the moment, making Azzi jolt slightly as she pulled back. She turned her head toward the sound, her hair brushing Paige’s face.

"Come in!" Paige called lazily, her arms still secure around Azzi.

Azzi gave her an incredulous look, her lips parting in disbelief. "Seriously? You didn’t even ask who it was."

Before Paige could respond, the door swung open, and Nika strolled in, completely unbothered by the scene in front of her. She plopped onto the bean bag in the corner of the room, stretching her legs out with a dramatic sigh.

"Y’all coming out tonight?" Nika asked casually, as if Paige and Azzi weren’t tangled up on the bed.

Paige arched an eyebrow, her head still pressed into the pillow. "Where?" she asked, glancing at Nika with mild curiosity.

"Football team’s throwing a party," Nika said, leaning her head back against the wall.

Paige tilted her chin up to look at Azzi, silently deferring to her. "What you think?" she asked, her hands still resting comfortably on Azzi's hips.

Azzi shrugged, clearly indifferent at first. "Who’s going?" she asked, looking to Nika for specifics.

"I think most of the team, to be honest," Nika replied, her tone nonchalant as she scrolled on her phone.

Azzi’s lips quirked into a small smile as she nodded. "Yeah I’m down."

Paige smirked, amused. "You’ve been into parties lately," she teased, her fingers lightly tracing circles on Azzi’s side.

Azzi shrugged again, her confidence now a natural part of her demeanor. "Maybe I just like them better now," she said, glancing at Paige with smile.

Nika groaned as she stood, arching her back like she’d been sitting for hours. "Man, I need to stretch more during the offseason," she complained, rubbing her shoulder.

Paige and Azzi both looked over and laughed as Nika shuffled toward the door.

"You two lovebirds better not bail," Nika added, pointing a finger at them before stepping out.

Paige let out a laugh, tightening her hold on Azzi. "Lovebirds, huh?" she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, leaning down just enough to bump her forehead lightly against Paige’s. "She’s not wrong," she whispered.

Paige grinned, her eyes lighting up as she looked at her. "Well, guess we’re going to a party," she said, the excitement subtly creeping into her voice.

Azzi sat up a little, brushing her hair back as she glanced toward the door. "Guess we are," she agreed.

Paige, not liking the space between them, pulled Azzi back down for a kiss. Her hands found their way to Azzi’s waist, holding her securely as she deepened the kiss, her lips moving slowly in a way that made Azzi melt.

Azzi tangled her fingers in Paige’s hair as she shifted her weight, rolling her hips into Paige slowly. Paige let out a low hum of approval, her grip tightening just enough to show how much she was enjoying this.

Azzi let her lips trail down Paige’s jaw, leaving soft kisses along the way. Paige tipped her head back slightly, giving her better access, her breath hitching softly.

But just as things were heating up, Azzi stopped, sitting up and pulling away. Paige blinked at her, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "What the hell baby?" she protested, her voice almost a whine.

Azzi laughed as she slid off the bed. "If we’re going out, I need to go get ready," she said, throwing her hair into a messy bun as she grabbed one of Paige’s hoodies.

Paige propped herself up on her elbows, giving Azzi a look. "Why you gotta get ready? Just wear my clothes," she said, her tone half-serious.

Azzi wrinkled her nose playfully. "Your clothes have too much fabric," she shot back, smirking.

Paige narrowed her eyes at her, a grin spreading across her face. "Who you trying to show all that skin for, hm?" she asked teasing Azzi slightly.

Azzi leaned down, resting her hands on either side of Paige’s hips as she got close enough for their noses to almost touch. "My girlfriend," she murmured, her voice soft. She let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding with a smile, "Who will be drunk tonight."

Paige’s eyes lit up at Azzi’s comment, her grin growing wider. "Oh, really?" she asked, clearly liking the sound of it. She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "What’s the occasion?"

Azzi paused for a moment, licking her lips as she leaned over Paige, her face just inches from hers. "Why does there need to be an occasion?" she replied smoothly.

Paige hummed softly, her response more of a distracted sound than actual words. Her gaze was fixed entirely on Azzi, completely captivated by the way her brown eyes seemed to glint and the way her lips curled into a confident smirk.

Azzi, reveling in the effect she had on Paige, let her smile grow. "I like when you’re drunk," she added, her tone carrying some playfulness.

Paige blinked, snapping out of her trance just enough to ask, "Why?"

Azzi shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though the real reason sat clearly in her mind. Drunk Paige was different—much bolder with her, less restrained. When she wasn’t drunk, Paige’s affection for her sometimes overshadowed her desire. She was sweet, loving, and almost careful, like Azzi was something fragile she needed to protect. But when Paige was drunk, there was no hesitation. She was confident, and completely unfiltered in showing it. Drunk Paige had no problem pulling her close in public, leaving lingering touches that sent sparks down Azzi’s spine, and when they got home...Well, Paige couldn’t keep her hands off her, and Azzi loved every second of it.

But she didn’t say any of that, instead she just leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Paige’s lips. It was just enough to leave her wanting more before Azzi pulled back, standing up straight.

"I’ll let you figure that one out pretty," Azzi teased, her smirk in place as she turned toward the door.

Paige laid there for a moment, her eyes wide as she watched Azzi head for the door. "You’re so annoying," she muttered under her breath, though there wasn’t even a hint of malice in her tone—only warmth.

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder, giving Paige a knowing look. "I love you too," she said, blowing Paige a playful kiss before slipping out of the room.

Paige exhaled deeply as the door clicked shut, her heart racing a little faster than before. A grin spread across her face as she stared at the ceiling, her mind already racing with thoughts of Azzi.

…

Later that day in their suite, Nika was perched in front of the mirror, carefully applying her makeup. Meanwhile, Paige was laid out on Nika’s bed, tossing a basketball into the air and catching it repeatedly. Her movements were lazy but precise, the ball spinning just enough to keep her entertained.

"Just so you know," Paige randomly said, her voice casual, "I’m definitely getting you back for keeping me up all night the other day."

Nika glanced at her through the mirror, an eyebrow raised as she laughed. "Yeah, right," she said dismissively, brushing some highlighter over her cheekbone.

Paige stopped mid-toss, the ball still in her hand as she sat up slightly, her eyes narrowing. She never liked when people implied she couldn’t do something. "Why you say that like I can’t?" she challenged, sitting up fully now, the ball forgotten as it rolled onto the bed beside her.

Nika turned to look at Paige, her smile growing. "I mean, Azzi’s loud, sure, but she’s not that loud," she said, waving her hand for emphasis. "She wouldn’t do all that."

Paige’s expression shifted her lips twitching into a smirk. "How much you wanna bet?" she asked.

At that, Nika’s ears perked up. There was nothing she loved more than a good bet, especially one she thought she could win. She spun her chair around to face Paige fully, crossing her arms. "You’re tryna bet?"

Paige leaned back on her hands. "Yeah. Let’s bet."

Nika squinted at her, skeptical but intrigued. Paige always had this unwavering confidence, and it annoyed Nika how often it paid off for her. But this time? She was sure she had it in the bag. Azzi, while always confident in herself these days, was way more reserved about their sex life than Paige. She wasn’t shy, exactly, but Nika just couldn’t imagine her being that carefree, especially with most of the team sharing the suite.

Nika grinned. "Alright, bet. What’s the wager?"

Paige thought for a moment before leaning forward. "$200."

Nika snorted. "Okay, fine. But if I win, you owe me double. You got deeper pockets."

Paige rolled her eyes but nodded. "Alright whatever."

They shook on it, and Nika leaned back with a grin. "This about to be the easiest bet I’ve ever won," she said, turning back to the mirror to finish her makeup.

Paige chuckled to herself, leaning back against the headboard, her arms crossed behind her head. "You're delusional," she said under her breath, already planning how she was going to make this bet easy for herself.

In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how easy it would be to prove Nika wrong—because if there was one thing Paige knew, it was how to get Azzi to let go of her inhibitions.

…

When Nika was finally ready, the two of them headed out. Paige had decided not to put too much effort into her appearance, opting for the casual look she knew Azzi loved so much. She wore a black Nike tech—the sweatpants hanging slightly loose on purpose—and kept the jacket open to reveal the white t-shirt and her silver chain underneath. It was simple, but the way Paige carried herself made it anything but plain.

When they got to the party, the music was loud, and the room was packed. Paige’s eyes scanned the crowd, easily zeroing in on her girlfriend. She was standing near the makeshift bar in the kitchen, talking with a couple of their teammates, a drink in her hand. Paige couldn’t help but let her eyes linger over her body.

Azzi was effortlessly captivating. She wore short jean shorts that hugged her in all the right places, showing off her long toned legs; they were paired with a black long-sleeved crop top that showed her entire stomach, only falling low enough to cover her chest. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, small curly strands left out in the front that fell in front of her perfect face.

Paige crossed the room, slipping through the crowd until she was behind Azzi. She didn’t announce herself—didn’t really need to. Instead, she stepped up close, wrapping her arms around Azzi’s waist and pulling her back against her.

Azzi froze for a moment, her body stiffening at the unexpected touch being under the impression that Paige wasn’t there. But then she caught the familiar scent of Paige. Her muscles relaxed almost instantly, and she let out a soft laugh as she leaned back into Paige’s hold.

“Hey pretty,” Paige whispered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, glancing back at Paige. “Hi baby,” she murmured, her lips forming into a smile. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I move quiet when I want to,” Paige replied, her arms tightening briefly around Azzi before resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder. She glanced down at what Azzi was wearing, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You look amazing.”

Azzi hummed, reaching a hand down to rest over Paige’s. “Mmm you don’t look too bad yourself,” she teased, leaning into Paige’s familiar presence.

From across the room, Aaliyah groaned loudly, making no effort to hide her exasperation. “God, can y’all not do this in public? Like, at least give the rest of us a chance to have fun without feeling single as hell!”

Paige turned her head slightly, grinning at Aaliyah. “Then stop looking,” she shot back, looking completely unbothered.

Azzi laughed softly, turning in Paige’s arms so she could face her. Her hands came up to rest lightly on Paige’s chest, her smile teasing but warm. “You’re mean sometimes, you know that?”

Paige grinned wider, her fingers tracing light patterns along Azzi’s sides. “No I’m not. Imma angel,” she countered smoothly.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. “Yeah, yeah,” she said with a laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Paige’s lips before pulling back and wiping her lip gloss off of her.

Paige shifted her hold on Azzi, her fingers trailing lazily along her sides as the party hummed around them. Leaning in closer, Paige tilted her head, her lips hovering just by Azzi’s ear. “So, how drunk are we getting tonight?” she asked.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile, her gaze flicking to Paige’s before she licked her lips. “Drunk enough,” she answered simply.

Paige raised an eyebrow at that, her curiosity piqued. “Enough?” she repeated, leaning back slightly to study Azzi’s expression. “Why do I feel like you tryna get me drunk?”

Azzi tilted her head, her smile widening as she hooked her fingers around Paige’s wrists, guiding her hands to rest on the warm, exposed skin just above her hips. Paige smirked at the contact, her thumbs instinctively brushing over Azzi’s soft skin.

Azzi leaned in closer, her lips barely an inch from Paige’s as she spoke. “Because drunk Paige…” she started, pausing as her eyes darted to Paige’s lips before meeting her gaze again, “…is fun Paige.”

Paige’s jaw clenched slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as Azzi’s words settled over her. Her grip on Azzi’s waist tightened instinctively, her fingertips pressing into her skin. “Fun Paige, huh?” Paige echoed.

Azzi nodded slowly, her smile never faltering. “Mhm,” she murmured, tilting her head as her hands slid up Paige’s chest and rested lightly on her shoulders. “You’re usually so… composed,” she continued. “But when you’ve had a few drinks, you don’t hold back. You’re all over me—” her voice dipped, “—and I like that a lot.”

Paige’s lips parted, her gaze flicking between Azzi’s eyes and her mouth, her restraint already thinning as the heat between them grew. “You like that?” she murmured, her thumbs continuing their slow, strokes against Azzi’s skin.

Azzi hummed in agreement, her smile softening but never losing its edge. “I love it,” she corrected, her hands slipping down to cover Paige’s, keeping them firmly in place on her waist.

Paige leaned in further, her forehead almost touching Azzi’s, “Keep talking like that, and I won’t need a drink.”

Azzi smiled at Paige’s tone, but before she could respond, someone shouted nearby, pulling them out of their bubble. Paige groaned under her breath, resting her forehead briefly against Azzi’s shoulder before straightening up.

Azzi laughed softly, trailing her hands up and down Paige’s arms. “Patience, P,” she teased.

Paige huffed. “I’m not patient when it comes to you,” she admitted, her voice dropping slightly as she pulled Azzi just a fraction closer.

Azzi’s smile softened, a knowing look crossing her face. “I know baby,” she said simply. Without giving Paige a chance to respond, Azzi leaned in and kissed her, her lips soft and warm, stealing away any remark Paige might’ve had.

Just as Paige was about to deepen the kiss, Azzi pulled back, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear as she murmured, “Stay right here.” She stepped away, and Paige’s hands reluctantly slipped from her waist.

Paige watched, her gaze glued to Azzi as she made her way to the drink table, her every move effortlessly commanding people's attention. Azzi grabbed two shot cups, filling them quickly before pouring a third. She returned moments later, pressing one of the cups into Paige’s hand while holding the other two herself.

“For me?” Paige asked, her eyebrow raised in playful suspicion as she glanced at the two cups Azzi held.

Azzi grinned, raising one in a small toast. “For both of us,” she said, tipping her head back and downing the first shot before Paige could reply.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, lifting her own cup. They hit them together, Paige knocking hers back as Azzi took her second.

Azzi wiped her lips with finger and grabbed Paige’s hand, pulling her gently toward the crowd. “Come on,” she said, her smile carefree, her fingers lacing loosely with Paige’s.

Paige followed willingly, her body already buzzing—not just from the few shots she took before the party but from Azzi’s touch, her energy. "Lead the way," she said, her eyes fixed on Azzi like no one else existed.

…

Azzi and Paige spent the first half of the party with their team, fully immersed in the usual chaos of drinking games, jokes, and back and forth. Paige had her arm slung casually around Azzi’s waist or shoulders for most of it, but as the night wore on and the alcohol started to hit harder, the two of them began to drift into their own world—a familiar pattern by now.

The team noticed it too, exchanging knowing glances but not saying much. They’d seen this before and weren’t about to interfere. By unspoken agreement, they let the two go.

Paige, now drunk and far less reserved than usual, was doing exactly what Azzi thought she would. She was all over her—hands lingering on Azzi’s waist or hips, pulling her closer whenever she got the chance. Her lips hovered close to Azzi’s ear, murmuring things only Azzi could hear.

Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, she reveled in it. The way Paige was so unapologetically into her, even in front of everyone, made her feel a kind of warmth she hadn’t realized she craved. She leaned into Paige’s touch, letting herself be pulled into her orbit completely.

At one point, Paige brushed her knuckles lightly along Azzi’s jaw, her lips curving into a smirk. “You were right, y’know,” she whispered.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “About what?”

“About me when I’m drunk,” Paige murmured, leaning in so close that Azzi could feel her breath against her skin. “I really can’t keep my hands off you.”

Azzi laughed softly, her cheeks warming, and turned to face Paige fully. “I noticed,” she said, as she slid her hands up Paige’s chest, hooking her fingers lightly around Paige’s chain.

Paige tilted her head, her eyes dark as her hands rested firmly on Azzi’s waist. “What can I say? You make it hard to behave.”

Azzi shook her head, biting her lip as she laughed. “You’re ridiculous baby.” But there was no mistaking the way her eyes lingered on Paige, full of affection.

Paige grinned, leaning in again, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “You love it.”

And she did. She really, really did.

Right now, they were sitting on the couch, Azzi perched comfortably in Paige’s lap with her legs crossed. Azzi had one hand resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder, the other holding a half-empty cup, while Paige’s hands settled naturally on her waist. Paige leaned in closer as she mumbled in Azzi’s ear.

“I love when you wear your hair back like this,” Paige said.

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, tilting her head slightly as she turned to look at Paige. “Why?” she asked, though the corner of her lips twitched with a knowing smile.

Paige’s eyes flickered down to her neck, a smirk forming. “Because your neck is exposed,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “It’s so sexy.”

Azzi laughed again. “My neck is sexy?” she teased, arching an eyebrow at her girlfriend, though her cheeks were tinged with a faint blush.

“Mhm,” Paige hummed, leaning in to press a series of light kisses along the curve of Azzi’s neck. Her lips lingered just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, leaning into the contact.

Azzi mumbled, her voice soft but with a slight edge of warning. “You need to behave.”

Paige chuckled, her breath warm against Azzi’s skin. “I am behaving baby,” she murmured, though her hands on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, pulling her just a little closer.

“No, you’re not,” Azzi replied, her voice softer now, but her slight smile was still there. She leaned back slightly, just enough to look Paige in the eye.

Paige shrugged, clearly unbothered by the accusation. “I can’t help it. You’re just sitting here looking like that,” she said.

“Looking like what?” Azzi asked, tilting her head as she bit back a smile.

“Like you’re mine,” Paige replied smoothly, her words so confident and sincere that Azzi’s cheeks warmed more.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear as she whispered, “I am yours.”

Paige hummed low in her throat, her eyes darkening as she trailed a finger up Azzi’s side. “Then let me kiss you properly,” Paige murmured, already leaning in to kiss Azzi’s neck again.

Azzi let out a quiet laugh, trying to regain her composure even as her resolve melted under Paige’s touch. “You’re being bad,” she whispered, though she didn’t move to stop Paige.

“You love it,” Paige shot back, grinning against Azzi’s skin as she planted another soft kiss.

Azzi tilted her head slightly to give Paige better access before she caught herself. “You’re going to get us caught,” she murmured, her voice a little weaker now.

Paige pulled back just slightly, her lips still close to Azzi’s ear. “I don’t care. Let them see how much I love you,” she whispered, her tone so sincere that Azzi couldn’t help but lean into her again.

Azzi melted a little more, her resolve slipping completely as she gave in to the moment. But before either of them could take it further, they were interrupted by one of their friends suddenly plopping down on the couch next to them, breaking the moment entirely.

Kayla plopped down on the couch, completely oblivious to the intensity of the moment she had interrupted. Azzi leaned back slightly, trying to put some space between her and Paige, but Paige groaned at the loss of closeness, her hands instinctively tightening on Azzi’s waist in protest.

Azzi, noticing the slight pout forming on Paige’s lips, leaned in to whisper something softly in her ear. Whatever it was, made Paige’s expression relax instantly, her grip loosening slightly, though her eyes still lingered on Azzi with obvious longing.

Kayla, entirely unaware, held up a j between her fingers, glancing between the two. “Y’all want in?” she offered casually. The team only really smoked here and there during the offseason.

Paige shook her head with a quick, “Nah, I’m good,” but she caught the way Azzi’s eyes lingered on it just a little too long.

Paige smiled, leaning back slightly to get a better look at Azzi. “You wanna try it?” she asked

Azzi hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. “I don’t know... How will it make me feel?”

Paige sat up, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she said, “It’ll make you feel euphoric baby.”

Her fingertip trailed slowly up and down Azzi’s leg, her movements featherlight, the alcohol clearly loosening her. “It’ll make touches like this,” Paige murmured, her voice a little husky, “feel... heightened.”

Azzi swallowed, her body stiffening slightly as Paige’s words sank in. “It slows everything down for you,” Paige continued, her fingertip never stopping its slow path along Azzi’s skin. “So you feel everything.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her throat dry as she tried to fight the way her body reacted to Paige’s touch. She uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs, shifting slightly in Paige’s lap as her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment.

Finally, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Paige smiled at her, as she took the j from Kayla and handed it to Azzi, explaining to her how to hit it. Kayla watched the exchange with mild interest, still completely oblivious to the tension that was in the air.

Azzi took her first hit a little too strongly, her inexperience showing as she immediately broke into a coughing fit. Paige chuckled softly, her tone warm as she handed Azzi a water bottle. “Here, goofball,” she teased, her free hand rubbing gentle circles on Azzi’s back.

Kayla grinned at the scene, clearly amused. “Just shotgun it for her, P,” she suggested casually, leaning back on the couch.

Paige immediately smiled at the idea, her eyes flicking over to Azzi, whose brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Noticing Azzi’s puzzled look, Paige took the j from her hand. Her voice softened as she explained, “Just inhale softly when I get close to you.”

Azzi nodded, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, her confusion fading into curiosity. Paige brought the joint to her lips and took a slow, practiced pull, the motion smooth, her confidence making it clear she’d done this before. The way she ghosted the smoke, letting it curl out slightly before pulling it back in, had Azzi's stomach flipping, a subtle ache building between her legs.

Paige leaned in close, so close their lips were just a breath apart but didn’t quite touch. The faint scent of Paige’s cologne mingled with the smoke, and Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. Paige exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke toward Azzi’s lips in a controlled stream. Azzi inhaled instinctively, her movements guided by Paige’s confidence, and this time, it was much smoother.

When Paige finally pulled back, the distance between them still intimate, her lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. “Good?” she asked.

Azzi’s gaze remained locked on Paige, a mix of awe and desire shining in her eyes. She nodded, unable to hide the faint blush creeping across her cheeks. “Yeah... good,” she murmured, her voice a little breathier than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened as she settled back into the couch, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s thigh. Azzi glanced away for a moment, trying to compose herself, but the slight grin tugging at her lips betrayed how much the moment had affected her.

Azzi and Paige shotgunned a few more times, each one pulling them further into a haze of euphoria. Both of their eyes were low now, their bodies relaxed and warm from the mix of alcohol and weed. Azzi leaned closer into Paige, her fingers lazily tracing up and down Paige’s chest and neck.

Paige’s lips quirked up as she watched Azzi, who was smiling at her in that slow, dreamy way that always managed to make Paige’s heart skip. The substances were starting to hit Paige fully now, her limbs heavy, her thoughts pleasantly fuzzy. She thought about how deeply relaxed she felt and realized that if she was feeling it, Azzi—who was less experienced—had to be feeling it even more.

Paige chuckled softly at Azzi, her tone affectionate. “Alright, you’re done, princess,” she said, gently taking Azzi’s drink from her hand and placing it on the table beside them.

Azzi immediately pouted, her lips forming an adorable frown as she protested. “What? Nooo, I’m fine,” she murmured, her words slightly slurred as she tried to reach for the drink again.

Paige raised an eyebrow, amused but firm, easily keeping the drink out of Azzi’s reach. “Mmhmm, sure you are,” Paige teased, brushing a strand of hair out of Azzi’s face. “But we’re not about to have you blacking out on me.”

Azzi huffed dramatically, crossing her arms but still leaning into Paige’s chest. “You’re no fun,” she mumbled, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

Paige grinned, leaning down to kiss the top of Azzi’s head. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t embarrass yourself,” she teased.

Azzi tilted her head to look up at Paige, her eyes half-lidded but shining with fondness. “I wouldn’t embarrass myself,” she murmured, her fingers now tracing slow circles over Paige’s collarbone. “You’d take care of me, wouldn’t you?”

Paige’s heart softened at the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice, and she smiled, her hand sliding to rest gently on Azzi’s hip. “Always baby,” she said simply, her tone carrying a sincerity that made Azzi’s pout melt into a soft smile.

After some time, Kayla left Paige and Azzi to their own world again, sensing she was intruding. Now, Azzi was completely wrapped around Paige, sitting sideways in her lap so she had better access. Azzi’s lips trailed over Paige’s neck as she mumbled about how pretty Paige was.

Paige, the effects of the alcohol and weed softening all her inhibitions, leaned fully into the attention. Her hands roamed lazily across Azzi’s legs. “You’re sexy,” Paige murmured, as her fingers brushed the hem of Azzi’s shorts.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her lips finding a sweet spot just below her jaw. She began to suck gently, her tongue flicking over the sensitive area. Paige sighed, tilting her head to give Azzi more room, completely lost in the sensation.

“You’re so perfect,” Azzi whispered between kisses, her voice barely audible but enough to make Paige shiver.

Paige’s hands tightened on Azzi’s thighs, her grip tight, as she hummed, “Baby, you gotta stop.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “Why?” she mumbled.

Paige groaned softly, leaning her head back against the couch. “Feels too good.”

Azzi chuckled, as she placed another open-mouthed kiss on her neck. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she teased, her hands brushing up Paige’s sides.

Paige hummed again, her eyes fluttering shut. “It’s a great thing,” she said, her voice strained. “But not when all these people are around.”

Azzi laughed softly at that, pulling back just enough to look at Paige, her smile playful. “They’re wasted,” she said, gesturing subtly to the crowded room. “Ignore them.”

Paige glanced around, realizing Azzi was right. The party was packed, with most of the people in a haze of their own drunken bliss, paying no attention to anyone else. That thought didn’t stop the heat crawling up Paige’s neck, though.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Paige muttered.

Azzi smiled at that, leaning back in just enough to press her lips to Paige’s neck again. Her kisses were slow and deliberate, her mouth leaving small marks across Paige’s skin. She wasn’t shy about her affection, even on the couch in front of everyone.

Eventually, Paige let out a low groan and tilted her head, grabbing Azzi by the jaw and pulling her into a kiss. It was slow but deep, their lips moving together as if no one else was around. The kiss lingered, the party noise fading into the background for a moment, before they pulled back, their foreheads brushing.

Azzi’s fingers played with the hem of Paige’s shirt as her eyes drifted up to meet hers. “I want you so bad,” she murmured.

Paige hummed, leaning closer as her lips brushed Azzi’s ear. “Tell me more,” she teased, her tone encouraging, fully enjoying how Azzi clung to her words.

Azzi shifted in Paige’s lap, her body pressing closer as her hands wandered to Paige’s shoulders. “You drive me crazy, P,” she admitted softly. “You have no idea how hard it is to be around you and not...you know” She trailed off, biting her lip as her cheeks flushed slightly.

Paige smirked, her lips grazing Azzi’s jaw as she said, “I think I do.” Her hands slid up Azzi’s thighs, close enough to make Azzi exhale sharply.

They both knew nothing was going to happen until later, but the tension between them grew heavier with every second, the anticipation building with no outlet.

Just as Azzi leaned in to kiss her again, Paige’s body stiffened. Her arms instinctively wrapped tighter around Azzi’s waist, her playful expression dropping.

Azzi frowned, noticing the change in Paige’s energy. “What’s wrong baby?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Paige didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on someone across the room. Azzi followed her gaze and immediately spotted what—or rather who—had caught Paige’s attention.

Amber.

She was standing near the kitchen, laughing at something one of their teammates said, trying to ignore Paige’s sharp glare.

Azzi’s brows furrowed as she turned back to Paige. “It’s fine P” she said quietly, leaning in closer so only Paige could hear.

Paige clenched her jaw, trying to play it off, but the way her fingers dug slightly into Azzi’s waist gave her away. “She shouldn’t even be here,” Paige muttered.

Azzi cupped Paige’s cheek gently, forcing her to look away from Amber and back at her. “Hey,” she whispered. “She’s not worth it. I’m here with you, end of story.”

Paige exhaled, her body relaxing slightly under Azzi’s touch. “You’re right, I’m sorry” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

Azzi smiled softly, brushing her thumb against Paige’s cheek. “I always am,” she teased, earning a faint smile from Paige as she leaned in for a kiss.

Paige and Azzi slipped effortlessly back into their bubble, the rest of the room fading into irrelevance as Azzi coaxed Paige into the same haze she was in. Azzi’s hands were in Paige’s hair, guiding her as their lips moved lazily against each other.

Paige’s lips traveled down Azzi’s neck, pressing soft kisses to her exposed skin, her hands resting on Azzi’s thighs. Azzi let her head fall back slightly, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair as a faint hum escaped her lips.

It was at this moment that Amber decided to walk over, her presence interrupting them. “Azzi,” she called, her voice loud enough to cut through the haze. “Can I talk to you?”

Azzi opened her eyes, looking up slowly, and Amber was immediately struck by the expression on her face. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the weed—it was the clear desire Azzi held for Paige. The way her lips were swollen, her eyes half-lidded as she pushed Paige further into her, it was a sight that made Amber’s jaw clench tightly.

Paige, meanwhile, didn’t even glance up. She stayed exactly where she was, her lips still brushing over Azzi’s neck, her movements unbothered by Amber’s presence. Azzi didn’t stop her, one hand still in Paige’s hair as she looked at Amber.

“About what?” Azzi asked.

Amber’s discomfort was clear as she shifted on her feet. “You know… just about how we left things,” she said awkwardly, her eyes flickering between Azzi and Paige, who was still trailing kisses up Azzi’s neck.

Azzi stared at Amber for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally gesturing to the empty space on the couch. “Go ahead.” she said calmly.

Amber hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with Paige’s presence, but she eventually sat down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Paige finally paused her kisses, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, her hooded eyes trailing over Amber with curiosity, sizing her up without much effort. A faint smirk tugged at Paige’s lips, and she leaned closer to Azzi, whispering, "You want me to go?"

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “No,” she murmured, sliding Paige’s hand higher on her thigh, her fingers intertwining over Paige’s for emphasis. The small action felt intimate. Then, Azzi turned back to Amber, her posture calm but clearly a little disinterested. “Go ahead,” she said.

Amber glanced between the two of them, her jaw tightening at the way Paige’s fingers lightly brushed against Azzi’s leg. Still, Amber pushed forward. “Look, Azzi, I just…” she started, her voice faltering. She sighed heavily before finding her words again. “I just want to apologize—for how I acted when we first got to UConn. I was... immature, and I didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated.”

Azzi nodded slightly, her expression unreadable.

Amber shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Azzi’s silence but continued. “I didn’t know how to handle things back then. I got caught up in my own insecurities, but I can see now that… you’re incredible. You always have been. I know I could’ve treated you better. And I just—I don’t want there to be bad blood between us.”

Azzi finally responded. “I appreciate the apology, Amber. I do,” she said, her eyes meeting Amber’s briefly before they flicked back to Paige, who had started idly playing with Azzi’s fingers as she scrolled on her phone. Azzi gently tugged Paige’s hand back, keeping her attention on her rather than her phone or anything else. “But it’s been a long time since then, and I’ve moved on from that. I’m not holding onto any resentment, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Amber’s face softened slightly,m, but before she could say more, Azzi leaned back into Paige’s touch. “I’m glad you’re in a better place, though,” she added, the words polite but distant.

Amber hesitated, her gaze flickering between them again. “I just wanted you to know that I see you now. I see what I missed back then, and—”

Azzi cut her off gently but firmly. “Amber, I hear you,” she said, her hand absently tightening over Paige’s. “And I appreciate the effort. But like I said, I’ve moved on.” Her gaze shifted entirely to Paige, who was staring into space, for a second, her tone softening as if Paige were the only person in the room. “You good baby?”

Paige blinked a few times coming back to reality, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “I’m perfect.”

Azzi let out a quiet hum, her lips curling into a soft smile at Paige’s words. But before they could fully settle back into their bubble, Amber cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Azzi look,” Amber started, her tone hesitant but laced with a hint of hope. “I know I messed up before, and I don’t expect things to just go back to how they were. But… do you think maybe we could try again? Like, really try?”

Paige’s smile faltered, her expression hardening slightly as she subtly tightened her grip on Azzi’s thigh. Azzi, however, didn’t react much, her eyes locking on Amber.

“Amber,” Azzi said, her voice steady, “That’s not going to happen.”

Amber blinked, taken aback by the immediacy of Azzi’s response. “Why not? I mean it was almost three years…” She glanced at Paige, a slight edge creeping into her tone. “Are you and Paige even serious? Or is this just some… thing you’re doing?”

Paige raised an eyebrow at the question, her smirk returning. She leaned back slightly, letting Azzi handle it.

“What Paige and I have isn’t any of your business,” she said . “But even if she wasn’t in the picture, the answer would still be no. We’re not going back to that.”

Amber frowned, her jaw tightening. “I’ve changed,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t treat you the way I did before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Azzi replied. “But I’ve changed too. And what I want now? It’s not someone you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Amber looked like she wanted to argue, but she caught the way Azzi’s hand shifted to intertwine with Paige’s fingers, her thumb brushing lightly over Paige’s knuckles.

Amber exhaled sharply, standing up. “Right,” she muttered, avoiding their gazes. “Well, good luck with… whatever this is Azzi, I’m glad you were able to move on so fast.”

Paige let out a low chuckle as Amber walked away, her smirk growing. “Whatever this is, huh?” she teased, her voice amused.

Azzi turned back to Paige, her expression softening immediately as she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s lips.

…

A bit later Paige made her way back from the makeshift bar, two drinks in hand. As she weaved through the crowd, Amber bumped her shoulder—hard enough to make her notice what she would usually brush off at a party. Whether it was intentional or not wasn’t clear, but the look Amber gave her suggested it might have been.

Paige’s jaw tightened as she forced herself to keep walking. There was no point in starting something here—not with so many people watching, and definitely not with Azzi waiting for her.

When she finally reached Azzi, she handed her the drink with a tight smile before tilting her head back and downing her own in one go. Azzi raised an eyebrow, amused, watching Paige set the empty cup down.

“Oh?” Azzi said, a teasing tone in her voice. “What’s got you all fired up?”

Paige smirked, brushing it off. “I wanna dance.”

Azzi hummed, as she downed her own drink. She set her cup aside and slipped her fingers through Paige’s, tugging her toward the crowded part of the house.

“Come on, then,” Azzi said as she glanced over her shoulder at Paige.

Paige chuckled, the tension from earlier fading as she let Azzi pull her closer to the sound of the music and the crowd. It wasn’t long before their world narrowed again, the sway of their bodies and the energy between them overtaking everything else.

The music pulsed around them, but Paige and Azzi were completely absorbed in each other, their bodies moving in sync.

Paige hadn’t forgotten about her bet with Nika. Her mind worked as she danced, planting subtle seeds with every touch—her hands trailing just a little slower along Azzi’s hips, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear whenever she spoke. "You like this, don’t you?" Paige murmured, as her fingers skimmed Azzi’s waistline. “How close I’m keeping you?”

Azzi chuckled softly. "Don’t start something you can’t finish, P," Azzi replied, her voice equally as sultry, her eyes sparkling with challenge. But Azzi was leaving her own seeds. Her hands drifted over Paige’s back and slid up into her hair, nails grazing her scalp just enough to send a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“You’re doing it again,” Paige said with a smirk, leaning closer.

“Doing what?” Azzi’s lips brushed against Paige’s cheek, her fingers lightly tracing down the back of her neck.

“Trying to make me lose my mind,” Paige muttered.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to hold back tonight,” Azzi countered, tugging Paige’s face closer until their noses brushed. “So why are you holding back now?”

Paige raised a brow, her smirk deepening. "I’m not holding back. I’m planting seeds."

Azzi’s laugh was soft. “And what kind of seeds are you planting?”

“The kind that’ll have you begging later,” Paige whispered against Azzi’s ear.

Azzi smiled at this, leaning in to kiss Paige’s neck a few times.

At that moment, Paige’s eyes wandered over Azzi’s shoulder, locking with Amber’s across the room. Amber was leaning against a wall, her expression unreadable, though her gaze lingered a little too long.

Azzi noticed almost immediately. Her brow arched as she leaned in, her lips grazing Paige’s ear. “Why,” she murmured, “are you looking at my ex and not me?”

Paige’s lips quirked into a smirk as her eyes shifted back to Azzi’s. “She bumped into me earlier.”

Azzi tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile as she hummed thoughtfully. Her hand came up, fingers softly brushing along Paige’s jaw before sliding to her throat. She applied the lightest pressure, enough to make Paige’s breath hitch. “Hmm,” Azzi mused. “Sounds like she’s jealous.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi closed the distance between them, pulling her in for a kiss that was anything but subtle. Their tongues tangled immediately, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Paige gripped Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, while Azzi’s free hand found its way into Paige’s hair, her nails grazing her scalp.

The room around them blurred as they lost themselves in the kiss, the rest of the party fading into irrelevance. When they finally pulled back, their foreheads pressed together, Paige let out a soft chuckle.

Azzi’s smirk was playful, her lips still swollen from the kiss, “Feel better?”

Paige grinned, her eyes darkening as she leaned in closer, their lips nearly brushing again. “Mmm... not yet.”

In one swift motion, Paige turned them around, pressing Azzi’s back against the wall. Her fingers wrapped firmly around Azzi’s neck, not enough to hurt but enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch and her eyes widen in anticipation. Paige pulled her into a kiss, this one deeper, more aggressive. Azzi moaned softly into Paige’s mouth, her hands clutching at Paige’s hips as she melted into the moment.

When Paige finally pulled back, a smirk played on her lips, her hand still lingering lightly around Azzi’s throat. “I’m good now,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Azzi, wasn’t done. Her eyes were completely dazed, a dreamy smile curling her lips as she bit down on her bottom lip, her teeth tugging at it. Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Azzi asked, her eyelashes fluttering innocently, though her tone and the slight pout of her lips gave away her bratty intentions.

Paige arched a brow, her smirk widening. “You know why.”

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance. “I want you to tell me,” she said. Her hands slid up under Paige’s shirt, her nails dragging lightly along Paige’s stomach in a way that made Paige’s muscles tense.

“Stop,” Paige said.

Azzi shook her head, her lips curling into a smug little smile. “No.” Her defiance was clear, the glint in her eyes showed she was testing Paige on purpose, fully aware of the effect she was having.

Paige exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening as she looked at Azzi. “Stop being a brat.”

Azzi fluttered her lashes again, leaning in closer as her lips brushed against Paige’s jaw. “Make me,” she whispered, her fingers now lightly tracing along the waistband of Paige’s sweats.

Paige’s eyes darkened, her hand tightening ever so slightly around Azzi’s neck as her other hand slid to Azzi’s hip, gripping it firmly. “Azzi,” she warned. Her smirk betrayed just how much she enjoyed the game Azzi was playing.

Azzi just grinned, her defiance still there as her hands rested under Paige’s shirt, her fingertips tracing teasing patterns against her skin. “Yes baby?” she murmured.

Paige tilted her head, her smirk growing as her thumb brushed against Azzi’s jawline. “Why you being a brat, princess?”

Azzi’s grin widened as she leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing Paige’s. “Because you like it.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her grip on Azzi’s neck tightening just enough to make her gasp softly. “I do?”

Azzi nodded, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip before she bit it teasingly. “Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes half-lidded as she stared at Paige.

For a while, they didn’t say anything, the tension between them suffocating. Paige’s hand stayed firmly around Azzi’s neck, her thumb tracing slow circles along her throat, while Azzi’s fingers continued their lazy movements against Paige’s stomach.

Then Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing Paige’s ear as she whispered, “Take me home.”

And with that Paige was tugging Azzi out of the party.

…

As soon as they stepped into Paige’s room and the door clicked shut, Azzi was on her. Her hands found Paige’s face, pulling her into a deep, hungry kiss as though they hadn’t been in each other’s orbit all night. Within seconds, Azzi’s shirt was discarded, and her hands were tugging at Paige’s Nike tech zip-up, impatiently peeling it off her shoulders.

Paige chuckled against her lips, helping Azzi shove the jacket off her shoulders before Azzi’s fingers hooked under her white tee, yanking it over her head in one swift motion. Their lips crashed back together, the kiss desperate as they stumbled toward the bed, their bodies pressed tightly together.

They barely made it before Paige’s knees hit the mattress, and they tumbled onto it, Azzi landing on her back with Paige falling on top of her. Both of them burst into soft, breathless laughter, their foreheads resting together for a fleeting moment before Azzi’s hands slid up Paige’s bare back, pulling her closer.

“You’re eager,” Paige teased, as she leaned down, brushing her lips against Azzi’s again.

Azzi smiled against her lips, her nails lightly raking along Paige’s back. “You make me like this,” she murmured, before pulling Paige back into another kiss that left no room for words.

As their lips broke apart for a brief second, Paige brushed her thumb along Azzi’s jawline, her blue eyes lidded and dark with a mix of desire and the lingering effects of the night. Azzi gazed up at her, chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips swollen.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige murmured, her voice rough, barely above a whisper, before leaning down to kiss Azzi again, her lips lingering against hers.

Azzi let out a small hum, sliding her hands along Paige’s waist before tangling her fingers in her hair, tugging just enough to make Paige gasp softly into her mouth. “You talk too much,” Azzi teased against her lips, as her legs wrapped tighter around Paige’s waist.

Paige chuckled, her hand trailing down Azzi’s side as she pulled back just slightly to look at her. “You love it,” she whispered, her smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Azzi grinned but didn’t respond, instead pulling Paige back in for another kiss, this one deeper and slower, her nails lightly grazing the nape of Paige’s neck. After a moment, Azzi stilled, both her hands cupping Paige’s face, stopping her in her tracks. Paige froze, her breath coming out ragged as she stared down at Azzi.

Azzi’s dark brown eyes locked onto Paige’s, her gaze soft. She licked her lips, her voice low as she said, “Don’t hold back tonight.”

“I know, baby,” Paige replied softly, her voice strained.

But Azzi shook her head, her grip on Paige’s face tightening just slightly. “No,” she whispered, her tone more commanding this time. “Don’t stop and ask me how I am. Don’t ask me how I’m feeling, if I’m okay—none of it. Just don’t hold back.”

Paige clenched her jaw at Azzi’s words, the weight of her trust and permission sinking into her. Her hand slid up to Azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing over her lips as she searched Azzi’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Azzi nodded, pulling Paige’s face closer to hers, their foreheads nearly touching. “I promise I’ll be okay,” Azzi whispered.

Paige exhaled shakily, her restraint wavering as she nodded back. “Okay,” she murmured before Azzi tugged her down into a kiss that obliterated any remaining hesitation Paige had left.

They stayed tangled in each other's lips for a while, both of them breathless as Paige hovered over Azzi, her weight resting on her forearm as her free hand traced slow patterns over the bare skin of Azzi’s stomach. She dragged her fingers down, teasing the edge of Azzi’s waistband before moving back up, earning a sharp inhale from Azzi. Paige’s lips curled into a small smile as she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Azzi’s collarbone.

“I told you,” Paige murmured against her skin, “It’s different when you just let yourself feel it.”

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige’s lips trailed along her neck. Her body arched slightly beneath Paige, the heightened sensations amplified by the lingering effects of the alcohol and what she smoked. “Feels so good,” Azzi mumbled, her voice breathy, as she tilted her head to give Paige more access.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin. “I know it does,” she whispered into her ear.

Paige’s hand continued its exploration, her fingertips ghosting over Azzi’s sides and down her thighs, her touch so light it was almost maddening. She dragged her fingers up the inside of Azzi’s arm, across her ribs, and then back down to the curve of her hip, never staying in one place long enough to satisfy. Azzi squirmed, her breaths coming quicker as her hands fisted the sheets beneath her.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, her tone needy and frustrated.

“Mmm?” Paige hummed, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she spoke.

Azzi whimpered softly, her hands moving to grip Paige’s back, her nails lightly scratching at her skin. Paige smirked, kissing a slow path down Azzi’s neck to her shoulder, pausing to nip gently at her skin before soothing it with her tongue.

“You’re so sensitive right now,” Paige murmured. “Every little touch, every kiss... you feel it everywhere, don’t you?”

Azzi let out a shaky exhale, her head nodding slightly as her eyes fluttered shut. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Paige’s hand slid higher, her fingers tracing the outline of Azzi’s ribs before she pressed her palm flat against her sternum, feeling the rapid thrum of Azzi’s heartbeat. “You’re already worked up,” Paige said softly. “And I haven’t even really started yet.”

Azzi opened her eyes, her gaze hazy as she met Paige’s intense blue ones. She licked her lips, her voice trembling slightly as she said, “You’re so unfair.”

Paige grinned, dipping her head to capture Azzi’s lips in a slow, deep kiss that leaves her captivated.

Before Azzi’s thoughts can catch up Paige is sliding her hand in her shorts and pushing two fingers in her, making her jaw drop at the feeling. Paige smiles down at Azzi feeling how easy it is for her to move her fingers in and out mumbling, “Fuck baby this all for me?”

Azzi’s hips lift instinctively as she pushes herself further into Paige, her body reacting to the slow pace of Paige’s fingers. “Mhmm,” she hummed breathlessly, her voice shaky as she let her eyes flutter closed for a moment.

Paige clicked her tongue softly, her hand stalling as she pulls them out. “Use your words,” she said, as she looked at Azzi. “Tell me.”

Azzi let out a small whimper, forcing her eyes open to meet Paige’s gaze. “Yes fuck,” she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s all for you Paige.”

A pleased hum escaped Paige as she leaned down, brushing her lips against Azzi’s collarbone before kissing her way up to her jaw as she slides her fingers back in. “That’s my girl,” she murmured against her skin, her words sending a rush through Azzi.

Azzi squirmed beneath her, feeling like she felt Paige all over her skin. Everything felt so heightened and Azzi felt like she wouldn’t last long. Paige tilted her head, studying her like she was committing every little reaction to memory. “Tell me how it feels,” Paige demanded softly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she spoke.

Azzi’s breath came in short gasps as she struggled to gather herself to speak, her hands fisting the sheets beneath her. A few shaky whimpers slipped past her lips before she finally managed to look Paige in the eyes again. “You always make me feel so good baby. I can never get enough,” Azzi whispered, her voice raw.

Paige smirks at this, her fingers moving a little faster in Azzi as she moved closer, “You’re so desperate for me aren’t you.”

Azzi gasped softly at the shift in Paige’s demeanor, her nails digging into Paige’s back. “Yes, fuck I—I am baby I want more. I need—” she started, but Paige didn’t let her finish as she adds a third finger making Azzi’s words falter.

Azzi’s lips parted, her breath hitching as she arched beneath Paige. “Fuck you’re so deep Paige,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she rocks against Paige basically riding her fingers as she grinds down on her.

Paige meets Azzi’s rhythm pushing herself in deeper. Azzi whimpered again, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Shit…oh my God,” her voice trembling.

A groan escapes Paige’s lips at the feeling of Azzi taking her so easily. She leans down to kiss her, their lips moving together sloppily as Azzi whines in Paige’s mouth at the feeling pooling between her legs.

As Paige’s lips moved against Azzi’s, she felt the soft, desperate murmurs slipping past Azzi’s mouth. “Paige... baby, I need more,” Azzi panted between kisses, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders at the feeling of her fingers curling inside of her.

Paige pulled back just slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s as she smirked down at her. “Whatchu need mama?” she asked, her blue eyes dark and locked on Azzi’s face filled with pleasure.

Azzi’s breathing hitched, her hips lifting slightly as her hands trailed down Paige’s arms. “More,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Fuck—I just need more.”

Paige chuckled softly, the sound a little rough as she tilted her head, her lips ghosting over Azzi’s jaw. “More of what, baby?” she pressed, her fingers dragging out of Azzi completely before pressing them back in, sending shivers through her. “You gotta tell me.”

Azzi’s head tipped back, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tried to form the words, her body practically vibrating beneath Paige. “I want your mouth baby—” she finally managed, her voice small but drenched in need.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her eyes glinting as she leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear. “That’s all you had to say,” she murmured as she lowers herself down Azzi’s body stopping to kiss and suck here and there.

Paige pulls her fingers out making Azzi whine at the loss as she’s bringing them to her lips. “Clean them up for me, baby,” Paige murmured, pressing them gently against Azzi’s lips.

Azzi didn’t hesitate, parting her lips and taking Paige’s fingers in, her tongue brushing over each of them slowly cleaning everything up. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft, satisfied hum escaping her throat. “Mhmm...”

Paige watched her intently, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin. “You like the way you taste?” she asked, her thumb brushing along Azzi’s chin as she held her gaze.

Azzi nodded, her lips still wrapped around Paige’s fingers, her eyes heavy as they flicked up to meet hers. She pulled back just slightly, her breath warm against Paige’s fingers as she whispered, “I love it.”

Paige chuckled, her smirk growing as she used both hands to pull off Azzi’s shorts and underwear slowly. “Good girl,” she murmured.

Azzi whines when Paige blows on her center teasing her but it’s quickly replaced by a moan when Paige licks it slowly taking her sweet time. Paige laps at Azzi slowly a hum escaping her throat at the way Azzi tastes like.

The gentleness of it isn’t enough for Azzi who’s been worked up all night so she starts pushing her hips into Paige. Paige smirks up at her getting the hint as she presses her tongue more firmly against Azzi.

Azzi immediately throws her head back wrapping on of her legs around Paige to bring her closer as she moans out “Mmm just like that baby.”

Paige chuckles at this as she murmurs against Azzi, “Feels good pretty?”

Azzi immediately responds “Sshh be quiet just eat me baby feels to good,” using one of her hands to push Paige’s face closer into her so she can’t speak.

Paige immediately pushes herself back. Using both of her hands on Azzi’s hips

to separate her from Azzi’s center causing Azzi to whine. “Who the fuck are you talking to like that?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything she just desperately tries to push hips up but Paige’s hands are pressing them down into the mattress. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

Azzi locks eyes with Paige a small smirk on her lips, a deep contrast to her hazy low eyes. “I’m talking to you.”

Paige raises her eyebrows at this chuckling a little as she nods her head slowly. “Alright remember that.”

Paige lowers herself back down attaching her lips to Azzi who immediately hums at the feeling, not even thinking about the consequences she knew she was going to get later.

Paige works her tongue against Azzi perfectly. Switching between lapping at Azzi completely and sucking, knowing exactly how to get Azzi where she wants her. Azzi is completely lost in the way Paige is eating her as she tangles her hands in her hair “Oh fuck… oh my god baby just like that.”

Paige laps at Azzi faster and a high pitched moan falls from Azzi’s lips as she pushes her hips up to meet Paige each time she swirls her tongue. Not long after Azzi’s legs start to shake slightly, the feeling in her stomach getting tight as she looses the rhythm she had with Paige moaning out “Yes yes fuck I’m so close baby keep going…”

Hearing this Paige immediately uses both hands to push against Azzi’s hips separating them as she stands up. Azzi’s eyes snap open at this “Paige what the fuck?”

Paige doesn’t even look at her as she walks toward the closet. “Shut the fuck up and sit there and wait.”

Azzi propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes narrowing slightly. She wanted to be annoyed but the tone in Paige’s voice made any irritation she had give way to excitement

She bit her lip, shifting slightly on the bed as she watched Paige, unable to tear her eyes away from the way Paige moved.

Paige opened the closet, her back to Azzi, the muscles in her shoulders flexing as she reached inside. After a moment, she stepped back, holding the strap and

harness in her hands. She took off the rest of her clothes before stepping into it, pulling the straps tight with ease.

Azzi’s throat went dry, her fingers curling into the sheets as her gaze followed Paige’s every movement as she started to walk back towards the bed.

“Flip over,” Paige said, as she stopped at the edge of the bed.

Azzi blinked, her breath catching slightly. “What?” she asked, her tone tinged with surprise.

Paige’s jaw tightened, her blue eyes dark as she looked down at her. “You heard me,” Paige said sharply. “Don’t make me repeat myself Azzi.”

The authoritative edge in her voice made Azzi swallow a little harshly. But without hesitation, she obeyed, immediately flipping onto her stomach, her face pressing into the cool sheets as she adjusted herself beneath Paige’s gaze.

“That’s better,” Paige murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips as she let her hand trail down Azzi’s back, her fingers dragging over her spine. “You do listen when you want to, huh?”

Azzi hummed softly, her breath uneven. “Only for you.”

Paige let out a dry chuckle, her grip tight as she grabbed Azzi’s hip, pulling her up to get on all fours. Azzi followed without hesitation, her face burning as she pressed her palms into the mattress. Paige’s hand ran over the curve of her hip before giving it a sharp squeeze.

“So, why were you being a brat then?” Paige asked.

“I wasn’t,” Azzi said quickly, her voice soft, almost defensive.

Paige raised an eyebrow, scoffing as she pushed Azzi’s chest against the mattress.“Yes, you were,” Paige countered, her tone sharper now.

Azzi whimpered, glancing back over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to, baby,” she murmured, her voice pleading.

Paige laughed. “Bullshit,” she said flatly, her hand gripping Azzi’s hip tighter as she rubs the strap against Azzi. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Azzi bit her lip, looking away, knowing there was no way out of this.

Azzi bit her lip harder as Paige continued to push the strap against Azzi spreading her wetness all over it. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, baby…”

Paige let out a chuckle. She leaned down, her breath hot against Azzi’s neck, and murmured, “I know you are now.”

Without another word, Paige reached up, her fingers working to undo Azzi’s ponytail. Azzi’s hair cascaded down, and Paige’s hands combed through her scalp briefly before wrapping her fingers into the curls. With a sharp tug, she pulled Azzi’s head back, forcing her deep into the arch.

A loud gasp leaves Azzi’s body as Paige slides the entire length into her.

"Oh shit," Paige says licking her lips as she watches the way Azzi takes it all. Azzi’s body immediately begins trembling considering it was already close to spilling over when Paige stopped abruptly.

Azzi whimpered, her voice breathless and trembling. "Paige... baby I’m not going to last long."

Paige’s smirk deepened as she tugged Azzi’s hair tighter, not moving her hips yet. Yes, you are."

Paige leaned closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear. "You’re about to work for it," Paige murmured.

Azzi shivered, her hands curling tighter into the sheets, her body already responding to Paige’s words. She swallowed hard, realizing she didn’t have an option—not with the way Paige was talking to her

“Ok, baby,” Azzi whispered.

“That’s what I thought,” Paige said, a grin spreading across her face as she released Azzi’s hair just long enough to let her reposition herself to grab it again. “Now, be a good girl and show me how much you want it.”

Azzi knows exactly what Paige means so she starts to move herself forward before pushing back against Paige.

Paige watches as Azzi does this over and over each time the toy comes out a little wetter making Paige groan.

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder, her lips parted as she continued throwing herself back against Paige. "You like that, baby?"

Paige's jaw tightened as her eyes stayed locked on Azzi’s movements, the desire in her gaze clear. She didn’t hesitate, her voice low. "I love it."

"Keep going," Paige murmured, loving the way Azzi felt pressed against her, "and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Azzi can see it all over Paige’s face. She wants this just as bad, if not more than Azzi does. This is enough to cause Azzi to tighten against the strap trying to keep herself quiet so Paige doesn’t realize she’s close. But Paige knows Azzi’s body, she can see the slight tremble in her legs, the tight grip she has on the sheets.

Paige pulls out completely, the wetness dripping on the sheets as Azzi whines loudly.

Azzi’s voice was desperate as she gasped, “Baby, please, you’re edging me.”

Paige smirked as she leaned in closer, her voice calm yet firm. “You’re not done until I give you permission.”

“Why?” Azzi whined, her hips shifting back in search of relief.

Paige tilted her head, her blue eyes dark. “You know why.”

Azzi whimpered, her resolve breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I told you to be quiet. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Paige shook her head. “Not good enough.” She pulled back, leaving Azzi desperately trying to press herself against her.

“Please, baby, I need you. I need you so bad,” Azzi breathed, her voice trembling.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You gotta beg for it.”

“I’m already begging,” Azzi protested, her voice cracking.

Paige shook her head again, her lips curling into a smile. “No, you’re not. You can do better than that, Azzi.”

Azzi, willing to do whatever it took to feel Paige again, broke. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything. Please,” she pleaded, her voice desperate.”

Paige observed Azzi. “I still don’t hear you begging.”

Azzi’s breaths came faster, and she let go of all her pride. “Please, I’m begging. Please fuck me baby. Please. I just wanna feel you.” Her voice cracked, raw with want.

Paige hummed at this, a satisfied smile creeping across her face. “That’s better,” she murmured. Paige pulls Azzi up from the sheets by her hair wrapping her other hand around Azzi’s torso before she’s murmuring “Imma fuck you so good baby. Imma have you screaming for me.”

Azzi bites her lip at this before Paige is pushing into her again harshly making her eyes roll back as she moans loudly. Paige lets go of Azzi’s hair pushing her back into the mattress as she grabs both of her arms pulling them to meet behind her back as she works into her aggressively.

“Baby fuck..oh my god—“ Azzi cries out her eyes watering at the feeling.

Paige groans her eyes rolling back a little at the way everything is pushing against her as she fucks Azzi.

One of Paige’s hands travels back up to Azzi’s hair, grabbing it harshly. "You’re taking my shit so well baby.”

“Mhmm..yes I’ll do anything for you Paige. It’s all yours baby.” Azzi says her voice trembling and breath gasping between her words.

"Such a good girl baby," Paige gasps, her own legs shaking slightly as she slams into Azzi. The sound of their skin slapping against each other filling the room.

"Oh my—, fuck, fuck, right there," Azzi gasp, as she throws herself back against Paige.

"You gonna cum for baby?"

"Yes, yes, fuck baby please don’t stop." Azzi is almost breathless now as her stomach begins to burn as Paige grips her hips tightly now

"Paige I can’t.. I’m about to—“

"Cum all over me baby." Paige says as her own desire threatens to spill over.

Those words are enough to send Azzi over the edge, her legs shaking as she spills out onto the shears. The room fills with the sounds of her high pitched moans as she continues rocking back against Paige.

Before Azzi knows what’s happening Paige is flipping her on her back putting her hand around her neck as she drives back into her.

"Oh my god!" Azzi screams out.

"I needa see your face baby. I’m close.” Paige moans, her eyelids low as she moves in and out of Azzi so roughly she has the girl under her seeing white spots.

Azzi smirked lazily, her eyes completely rolled back as she spoke breathlessly, “You need to see my face?”

Paige hummed, her hand tightening on Azzi’s throat, squeezing just enough to cut off Azzi’s circulation a little. “Yeah, mama,” Paige whimpered, her voice still dripping with control. “I gotta see it.”

“Why?” Azzi rasped, her voice faltering slightly as Paige’s grip on her throat lingered.

Paige tilted her head, her blue eyes piercing as she leaned in closer leaning over Azzi now as she worked into her. Her hand tightened just a fraction more, cutting off Azzi’s circulation in a way that made her body buzz with heightened sensation as she got close to another orgasm.

“Gotta see how I make you feel,” Paige said.

“Makes me feel so good seeing your eyes roll back like that. Hearing how you scream for me,” Paige added, tone breathy as her thumb brushed Azzi’s jaw, her eyes never leaving her face that had tears streaming down it now from the way Paige was pushing into her.

"Baby, you’re in my stomach," Azzi cry’s out

"You taking it so well tho princess,"Paige says, as she keeps slamming her hips into Azzi. “I’m so fucking close Azzi baby."

Azzi’s hands start clawing at her shoulders leaving harsh red marks behind as scratches and digs at her shoulders. "Me too baby," Azzi whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut.

Paige starts to ramble the words falling out of her not making any sense as she works into Azzi trying not to finish yet. “Fuck— I’m so…shit baby—feels so good mama.”

Wetness is spilling out of both of them as it pools on the sheets beneath them.

Azzi’s lips parted as she gasped out desperately as more tears fell down her cheeks, "Paige baby—I’m about to cum baby.” Her nails digging into Paige’s back deeper. Paige lets out a sound of relief hearing this as it was getting too hard to stop her own orgasm.

Paige’s hand squeezes at Azzi’s neck tightly, completely cutting off circulation as she speaks into her neck,"Scream for me baby,” she gasped. “Let everybody hear that I got you like this.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate, her body arching as her voice rang out, screaming Paige’s name, the sound echoing through the room as both of them come undone together, Azzi gushing all over the sheets and Paige’s stomach as they both gasp Azzi shaking uncontrollably underneath Paige.

"Holy shit baby-" Paige moans out, in Azzi’s ear as she finishes. Paige collapsed onto Azzi, her body completely spent as the weight of exhaustion settled over them. Their skin is slick with sweat, and their chests rise and fall in sync, both desperate to catch their breaths. Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s neck as she lazily mumbled, “M’sorry, baby,” her voice soft and muffled.

Azzi let out a breathless laugh, her fingers gently brushing through Paige’s damp hair. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice light.

Paige smiled faintly, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s shoulder before whispering, “You’re too good to me.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers trailing down Paige’s back in soothing strokes. “You say that like you don’t deserve it.”

Paige hummed, nuzzling closer as the tension in her body finally eased.

Paige lifted herself slightly, her elbows braced on either side of Azzi as she brushed her fingers tenderly against Azzi’s flushed cheek. Her blue eyes softened as she murmured, “I’m sorry for making you cry, beautiful.”

Azzi chuckled lightly. “It’s okay, baby. I asked for it, remember?” she teased, her hand trailing lazily down Paige’s arm before resting on her wrist. “Besides, you’re the only one who could ever make me feel this way.”

Paige tilted her head, her lips quirking into a smile. “Good,” she said softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of Azzi’s nose. “Because I don’t plan on letting anyone else try.”

Azzi laughed at that, her hand sneaking up to trace along Paige’s jawline. “Possessive much?”

Paige grinned. “Always. You like it, though.”

Azzi’s laughter grew quieter, her gaze locking onto Paige’s. “I do,” she admitted. “I really do.”

Paige kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I meant what I said earlier,” she whispered. “You’re mine, Azzi. Always.”

“And you’re mine.”

Paige stayed there for a moment longer, her gaze scanning Azzi’s face, committing every detail of this moment to memory.

Finally, she sighed standing up, her hand raking through her messy hair. “Meet me in the shower when you can walk again,” she teased, her lips curving into a smirk.

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh. “You’re so dramatic,” she mumbled, but her body remained limp against the bed for a few more moments. Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom quietly.

By the time Azzi finally joined her, still a little unsteady, they spent a quiet, moment under the warm water, the heat easing their muscles and calming their minds. Once they were out, Azzi grabbed a towel, carefully drying Paige off before helping her to the bed.

Now, Paige was sprawled on her stomach, her damp hair sticking to her skin as Azzi straddled her back. She gently squeezed Aquaphor onto her fingers, rubbing it into the harsh marks decorating Paige’s skin.

Paige let out a groan, her face buried in the pillow. “That hurts,” her voice muffled.

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as she smoothed her hands over another scratch. “You’re such a big baby,” she teased.

Paige twisted her neck slightly to glance back at her, her lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. “I’m not a baby,” she protested, though her voice betrayed her whining. “It hurts!”

Azzi laughed again, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Paige’s shoulder. “I don’t know how you go from that to this.”

Paige huffed, turning her head back to rest against the pillow. “I got layers, baby,” she muttered.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Shut up,” she said fondly, giving Paige’s head a light shove before crawling off of her. She moved across the room to turn off the light, plunging them into darkness.

Returning to the bed, Azzi slid under the covers, gently tugging Paige along with her. “Come here,” she murmured, pulling Paige onto her chest. Paige rests her head against Azzi’s collarbone, her body completely relaxed as Azzi’s hand lightly trailed up and down her back, careful not to disturb the Aquaphor.

“You know I need to let that stuff sit longer,” Azzi said softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she felt Paige’s breath even out against her skin.

Paige hummed, a sleepy smile tugging at her mouth. “You just like having me close,” she mumbled, her words already drowsy.

“Maybe,” Azzi admitted, her fingers stilling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t hear you complaining, though.”

“I’m not,” Paige whispered, her voice softer now.

After a beat of silence, she murmured, “I love you.”

Azzi’s heart swelled at the confession, and she tilted her head down just enough to kiss the top of Paige’s head. “I love you, too baby,” she whispered back.

…

The next morning, Paige and Azzi sat at the kitchen counter, eating the healthy breakfast Azzi had insisted on making Paige eat —scrambled eggs, avocado toast, and fresh fruit. Their voices were soft, the quiet hum of their conversation highlighted by occasional laughter as they shared little moments from the past week.

Just then, Nika emerged from her room, hair a mess and an irritated look on her face. Without saying a word, she walked up to the counter, grabbed a banana, and slapped $200 onto the counter in front of Paige.

Paige smirked. “Morning to you too sunshine,” she said, the smugness in her voice clear.

Nika didn’t respond at first, instead peeling her banana with a grumble. As she passed behind Paige, she clapped her hand against Paige’s shoulder harshly on purpose.

“Ah, shit—” Paige hissed, flinching as she jerked forward, her hand reflexively reaching for the sore spot.

Azzi’s head snapped up, her expression turning from amused to confused in an instant. “What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze shifting between Paige and Nika.

Paige winced but managed to keep her smile intact. Before she could answer, Nika chimed in, pointing a half-eaten banana at her. “That’s for losing the bet.”

Azzi frowned, her confusion evident. “What bet?”

Paige groaned softly, leaning back in her chair, but Nika was all too happy to explain. “Oh, Paige here thought she could make you scream for her. Bet me $200 she could pull it off.”

Azzi blinked, her cheeks instantly warming as her gaze darted back to Paige, whose sheepish grin was doing little to save her now. “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she said sharply, though her voice wavered somewhere between irritation and disbelief.

Paige shrugged, feigning innocence. “What? I knew I could do it. You know I hate being told what I can’t do baby.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped. “You bet on it?!”

Nika snorted. “Oh, she was real confident. Walked in my room before we left for the party and said, ‘Just have the cash ready in the morning.’”

Azzi shook her head, a mix of shock and amusement on her face. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Paige gave her a grin, leaning her elbow on the counter as she tilted her head. “Well, technically, I wasn’t wrong. Was I?”

Azzi let out a sharp laugh, nudging Paige’s leg with her knee under the table. “You’re such an idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to keep from laughing.

Paige leaned closer, her smirk softening into something more tender as she murmured, “Yeah, but you love me.”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head as she took a sip of her coffee. “Unfortunately for me, I really do,” she muttered.

Nika, satisfied with her morning entertainment, waved them off. “Alright, I’m done. This was worth every penny,” she said, heading back to her room with her banana in hand.

Once she was gone, Paige turned back to Azzi, her grin as shameless as ever. “So... am I forgiven?”

Azzi gave her a long look before breaking into a grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, shaking her head as they returned to their breakfast.

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay not that he needs it but what a ego boost it would be if sebastian stumbled upon mc and ominis talking about the guy she likes and she just like he's so out of my league listing positive traits (cue sebastian getting very jealous) Only for ominis to be like just tell sebastian then I don't have to hear you wine about it all the timee

Eavesdropping | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you love it!!! :")

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Love Confessions, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The stone door of the Undercroft groaned softly as Sebastian pushed it open, stepping carefully inside. He exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. He had snuck out after curfew, hoping to release some pent-up frustration with a few dueling spells.

He was halfway down the stairs when he froze. Voices—two of them—floated up from below.

Sebastian frowned, his grip tightening on the banister. He recognized them instantly. You and Ominis.

What were you doing here so late? He edged closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“I just don’t see the point,” your voice echoed softly. “It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen.”

Sebastian froze mid-step, his grip tightening on the banister. His brow furrowed. What wasn’t going to happen?

“It won’t if you keep dragging your feet,” Ominis replied, his tone dry as ever.

“It’s not that simple,” you shot back warily.

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity sparking to life alongside a strange, uneasy feeling in his chest. You sounded frustrated—almost pained. What could possibly have you so worked up?

“It is that simple. You’ve been in love with him for years,” Ominis said, his tone cutting. “Merlin, I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve had this conversation. Either do something about it, or stop talking about it.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped. In love? You’d never mentioned anyone. Not once.

“There's nothing I can do, Ominis,” you said, exasperated. “He doesn’t see me like that.”

Sebastian’s stomach twisted painfully. Who was this mysterious he? Why hadn’t you told him about this before? You usually told him everything.

“And how would you know?” Ominis challenged.

“Because I know him,” you replied firmly. “We’re best friends!”

Sebastian’s chest tightened, a painful mix of jealousy and confusion swirling inside him. Best friends? You were his best friend. Who could possibly come before him in your life?

“Right,” Ominis said sarcastically. “Because you’re so unremarkable.”

“Ominis,” you groaned, “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he shot back. “Half the school is in love with you, and you’re acting like you’re some invisible wallflower.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Ominis wasn’t wrong. People were drawn to you—how could they not be? But you’d never seemed to notice, much less care. And now you were sitting here, pouring your heart out about someone who clearly wasn’t him.

You sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and tinged with a hint of defeat. “It doesn’t matter what the rest of the school thinks when he’s completely out of my league, Ominis. With his stupidly handsome face and that ridiculous smile that makes it impossible to think straight…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Merlin, he’s just… he’s everything. Funny, clever, brave, loyal—he could have anyone he wanted.”

For a moment, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under Sebastian’s feet. How could you possibly think that? How could you believe, even for a second, that you weren’t good enough for whoever this bloke was? And the worst part—the part that made his chest ache—was that he couldn’t step in. He couldn’t tell you how wrong you were because he wasn’t supposed to be listening this in the first place.

“And?” Ominis prompted.

“And what?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“You’re always going on about how wonderful he is, which, I’ll admit, I struggle to agree with,” Ominis said with a dry chuckle. “But you never actually tell me how he makes you feel. Isn’t that the important part? Does it matter how... how handsome and funny he is if he doesn't make you feel something special?”

You hesitated, your voice soft and uncertain when you finally spoke. “He… I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, Ominis. Like no matter what’s going on, as long as he’s there, I’ll be okay. And he makes me feel seen. Really seen. Like I don’t have to be the ‘hero of Hogwarts’ or ‘the girl with ancient magic.’ I don’t have to be anything except… me. He knows me in a way nobody else does. And when I’m with him, it’s like—for once—I don’t have to prove anything.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn��t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more painful. Because that’s how he felt about you. You were his safe place, the one person who saw him as more than the brash, reckless troublemaker everyone else thought he was.

And now… now he was realizing that someone else held that place for you.

Ominis huffed a laugh, breaking the silence that followed your confession. “You know, it’s almost tragic.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What’s tragic?”

“That it’s him you’ve fallen for,” Ominis said, his voice laced with dry amusement. “Of all the people in Hogwarts—all the people who would gladly worship the ground you walk on—you’ve managed to lose your head over the most chaotic, reckless, insufferable person I know.”

Your jaw dropped, and a laugh bubbled out of you despite your embarrassment. “Ominis!”

“I’m serious,” he said, smirking. “You could have anyone. Anyone. And yet you’ve decided to pine after someone who probably doesn’t even realize you feel this way because he’s too busy rushing headlong into whatever absurd plan pops into his head.”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Well, I do,” he replied, grinning. “Because clearly, he’s too thick to notice, and you’re too stubborn to tell him. I’m the one stuck in the middle of this ridiculous mess, forced to play mediator while you both dance around each other like idiots.”

Sebastian felt like his chest was going to collapse. The way Ominis spoke so casually about this guy—teasing, almost affectionate—was like a knife twisting deeper into his gut. Whoever you were in love with wasn’t just close to you. They were close to Ominis, too.

Who the hell is it?

Sebastian's mind raced through the possibilities, his thoughts a chaotic mess of jealousy and dread. It had to be someone you spent a lot of time with, someone you trusted enough to feel safe around, someone who was close enough to Ominis that he could make jokes about their recklessness.

And then it clicked.

Garreth Weasley.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. Of course it was Garreth. It made perfect sense.

Garreth was charming, clever, and funny. He had that easygoing, confident smile that always seemed to draw people in. He was loyal, too—always ready to back up his friends, even if it meant landing himself in trouble. And he had that playful, carefree energy that made everyone want to be around him.

Sebastian felt sick.

Of course she loves Garreth. Why wouldn’t she?

He thought back to all the times he’d seen the two of you together—laughing in the Great Hall, chatting during potions class, exchanging those little looks that he’d tried to tell himself didn’t mean anything.

But they did mean something, didn’t they?

And then there was Ominis. Ominis liked Garreth well enough, didn’t he? He put up with Garreth’s antics, even joined in on the occasional joke. If you were in love with Garreth, it explained why Ominis was teasing you so mercilessly.

It all fit together too perfectly.

Sebastian gritted his teeth. He wanted to hate Garreth—wanted to hate him for being everything Sebastian wasn’t, for being the kind of person you could fall for so easily.

But he couldn’t hate Garreth. Not really. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that he was so damn likable. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that Sebastian had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes and letting out a slow, shaky breath.

I’ve lost her, he thought bitterly. I never even had her, and I’ve already lost her.

“It’s not like I have a choice, Ominis,” you continued on, your voice quieter now, tinged with frustration and something far more raw. “If I could stop loving him, don’t you think I would have by now? Believe me, I’ve tried,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve told myself it’s just a stupid crush, that it doesn’t matter, but it does. And no matter what I do, I can’t… I can’t make it go away.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?” Ominis asked, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “What are you so afraid of?”

You groaned, the sound laden with frustration. “Because it doesn’t matter! He doesn’t like me back, Ominis. I’d destroy our friendship for nothing!”

Sebastian’s heart clenched painfully, the bitter sting of your self-doubt twisting something deep inside him. How could you think so little of yourself? How could you not see what he saw when he looked at you?

Ominis let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t think he deserves you,” he muttered. “Merlin knows he’s well aware he doesn’t deserve you. But you can’t decide his feelings for him. That’s not how it works.”

You scoffed. “Your point?”

“I’m just saying,” Ominis replied, his tone exasperated, “that you’re doing both of you a disservice. It’s… it’s getting to the point where something has to give. Either you tell him how you feel, or—”

“Or what?” you interrupted, glaring at him.

“Or I will,” Ominis said firmly, his expression unyielding.

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Ominis said, his smirk returning. “I’m tired of watching you both suffer in silence. Merlin knows Sebastian’s too dense to work it out on his own. Maybe hearing it outright will knock some sense into him.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped.

It’s me.

The thought hit Sebastian like a stunning spell, freezing him in place as the pieces of the conversation finally fell into place. Every word, every hint, every exasperated sigh from Ominis—it all pointed to the same answer, one that he’d been too blind, too self-critical, to see.

You were talking about him.

You were in love with him.

His breath hitched, and his grip on the banister tightened as his heart pounded so loudly he was certain you and Ominis would hear it. The jealousy, the doubt, the sharp ache in his chest—all of it melted away, replaced by a dizzying mix of disbelief, relief, and something far brighter: hope. Because you loved him.

“I mean it,” Ominis was saying now, his tone both firm and teasing. “If you won’t tell him, I will. Frankly, I’m tired of sitting through these endless heart-to-hearts when the solution is so obvious.”

You groaned, your frustration evident. “Ominis, I swear—”

“Do it, or I’ll make it the most public confession Hogwarts has ever seen,” Ominis threatened, though the smirk on his face made it clear he was only half-serious.

Sebastian couldn’t stay silent any longer. His feet moved before his mind caught up, carrying him down the remaining steps until he was standing in the open, his gaze fixed on you.

“Ominis won’t have to say a word,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside him.

You and Ominis both turned toward him, your expression contorting into shock while Ominis grinned.

“Sebastian,” you breathed, your eyes wide.

Ominis crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “Ah, there you are."

Sebastian ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “Is it true?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Everything you just said… is it true?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Your gaze flickered to Ominis, as if silently cursing him, before returning to Sebastian. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he admitted, taking a step closer.

You flushed, your hands twisting nervously at your sides. “Sebastian, I—”

“Just tell me,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, your breath hitching, before finally nodding. “Yes."

For a moment, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at you, his heart so full he thought it might burst. And then, without thinking, he reached for your hands, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re in love with me?”

Your cheeks burned, but you held his gaze, your voice trembling as you said, “I am."

“I love you, too,” he said simply, the words spilling from his lips like they’d been waiting years to be spoken. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember."

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. “You… you do?”

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “I do. More than anything.”

Ominis cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Well, now that that’s settled, perhaps you two can finally stop making my life so unbearably dramatic.”

Sebastian shot him a look, but there was no real anger behind it. For once, he was too happy, too relieved to care about Ominis’ meddling.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything left unsaid finally lifted. And then, with a soft, almost hesitant smile, Sebastian tilted his head and closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was certain.

When the kiss broke, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, his smile soft but unshakably certain. “You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. And as you laughed, the sound light and filled with a joy you hadn’t felt in years, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[snake-spire]

So I’m not sure if I should talk about this or if it’s even worth mentioning but, there’s a post trying to villainize Harlan for posting about the US election and “promoting” Malevolent, if anyone has seen the twitter post and those in the Invictus discord would know. And is actively trying to make him out as ableist and racist, and I am absolutely floored by this response and how people aren’t really thinking about it deeper than that. I am censoring the person’s username because I don’t want them to be attacked. Just block them and move on if you end up finding the post.

First of all, Harlan lives in Canada, and I ask, why can’t he say anything to give his audience, who’s primarily queer and American, hope to push on? He uses his podcast as an example to make his point clearer. Because people can relate to it.

It’s insensitive to think that the United States live in this bubble that other people living in different countries can’t care about what’s going on, especially when Canada’s borders are now closed. And the fascist President is actively trying to make it the 51th state for god knows why. (This tumblr post was made at least two days ago)

I’ll come back to twitter because there is actually something about promoting Malevolent that can be seen as pushy (and I do think it was) but it really comes back to bite the op if you aren’t actively paying attention and can’t be bothered to look at the person’s account.

But there are three very heavy claims that this tweet makes that without thinking, are very damning. So let’s dissect that.

1. No one cares that most women characters are dead. And if they do, they really shouldn’t. Harlan is the sole creator of the show. He is the sole actor. Because he wants to. That’s his decision to not bring on other voice actors. Would it be nice? Yeah, absolutely. But I don’t care in the sense that I’m neutral about it. Who’s alive and who’s dead shouldn’t matter. And again, this idea that the women who have died had no impact on the story is diminishing their value as women. They didn’t die for the male lead (most of them anyway). They (especially in season one) were actively doing something and they are quite literally, the only reason the story is happening in universe. So yeah, if you want to be as shallow as possible, there are many dead women in the show. Congrats.

2. What ableist undertones? No really I would like to know. Is it because you think they’re ableist? There are 0 examples in the post to back this up. Are you claiming that the entire show’s undertones are ableist? I am working with absolutely nothing here. If you’re trying to make a “call-out” post or want people like me on your side, give me something. So yeah, I’m tossing that away because op never cares in the first place.

3. Now this is the second most damming thing in the post. Because it’s a somewhat serious allegation to frame Harlan as being racist. But that’s easy to refute: it’s in the name of Shub-Niggurath. And it’s barely in season 1.

Now I’m going to state an obvious fact: H.P. Lovecraft was racist. And there are far worst examples in his work with creatures just straight up named racial slurs and many of his works contain those on the basis. And it’s bad that he wrote that.

I want to make it clear that I am white, I’m not a person of color. And the op isn’t black either after I checked their page. So neither of us can fully comment on the “time period racial slurs” in Malevolent in full. But my college roommate who is black can. And they said it was absolutely ridiculous because there are no slurs being used as it’s a part of the name. and as that roommate pointed out to me, I guess we have to go after Arnold Schwarzenegger because of his last name.

And besides, if you’re going to get on Harlan for saying the name, what about every other piece of Lovecraftian media that included Shub? Because unlike Malevolent where she’s a small drop in the overall story, she’s actually integral to those pieces of media (ie: Sucker for Love 2)

Now remember how the racism accusation was the second most damming thing about the post?

Yeah I think the Nazi claim is there too.

And when someone asked in the reply for proof, the answer boiled down to, look it up. Because again, op couldn’t have been bothered to provide evidence or examples. Is that person still in there? How long ago was this? Does Harlan share those same views now? Does said Nazi still have those views?

I’m not implying that this did or didn’t happen. I don’t know because there is nothing to implicate anything. I shouldn’t have to do the work op couldn’t do themselves.

Now to circle back to the initial Twitter screenshot and something that Harlan can be viewed as being pushy about, I unfortunately couldn’t get a screenshot of the screenshot (again I blocked said person and I do not and will never get twitter) but I do know that when WolfytheWitch had started their listen of Malevolent and got to episode 20, they made a tweet about it and Harlan @ ed them. He had mentioned how fans and Cain needed a distraction in trying times.

Do I find that pushy? Yeah. But again, I don’t really care. Because this show means a lot to people. And they know that if they need to shut the world out for a moment, it’s just a click away.

But what really irks me were the tags about Cain in OP’s reblog of the post where this section is. And it really goes to show that the op has no clue what they were talking about and couldn’t be bothered to provide examples and evidence.

Cain is from the Philippines. They do not live in America. And it’s in their bio everywhere. They don’t hide it. This isn’t a “oh I didn’t know.” It’s an “I couldn’t have been bothered to check.”

I don’t like the idea of call out posts. Hell, I don’t even like that I have to make this post in the first place but it doesn’t sit right with me because I want people to think critically when there is no evidence besides opinions. And the claim that he didn’t ban a nazi which again, I don’t know if that’s true or not because op should have at least provided evidence when throwing out a claim like that.

And I will iterate again, please if you end up finding the post or someone reblogged it, do not harass the op or the person that reblogged it. Because that’s gross and disgusting and you have no place here.

Now I’ve said my piece about a post I probably should have ignored. But I didn’t. Because it was eating me up all day today.

Stay safe y’all

-Snake-Spire

[shanklin]

In a world where the belief of humans can create gods and deities, Stan dies from an infection soon after losing Ford.

It’s just a minor setback! Or so Ghost!Stan tells himself as he tries desperately to figure out how to touch stuff again. It doesn’t help that Ford warded most of his things against ghosts.

One day while practicing to become corporeal Stan comes across a couple of weird creatures [a gorilla wearing underwear? Unicorn made out of corn? A horse riding another horse? What?] ranting about Bigfoot and how stuck up she’s gotten ever since she ascended to godhood just because some crazy fanatics turned the hunt for her into a cult.

Meanwhile smaller szories and folktales like them are trying their hardest to survive. But peoples belief is fading and soon they will be forgotten and cease to exist.

This changes everything! Stan knows a great business opportunity when he sees it!

It’s almost too easy to abuse the system.

Religion has always been a scam in Stan's opinion. So he might as well turn himself into a god.

Good thing Ford did all the hard work for him by becoming the mysterious science man in the woods. All Stan has to do is to make himself visible long to create Mr. Mystery.

The belief of the townsfolk grants Stan enough strength to become corporeal and soon enough Stan opens his temple [tourist trap] for business. 

People pilgrimage to his holy ground, pay tithings [entrance fees] listen to his sermons [tours] and leave offerings [cash] in exchange for blessings [cheap souvenirs Stan tells them will bring them luck]. They even take little statues of him back home and convert others to believe in him as well. [It's a fun tourist trap why wouldn't you believe the owner exists].

Eventually he even gets his own priests [employees] to help him out.

In exchange for favours Stan also promotes the almost forgotten and fading folktales he meets. They quickly become his most loyal followers. Stan may have scammed his way into godhood at record speed but he still cares for the little guys. He’s saving their lives and they could not be more grateful. 

The other gods however HATE him but cant do anything about it because he's not technically breaking any rules.

With every new believer Stan grows stronger and changes.

His lies turn into reality. His souvenirs become actual blessed artifacts protecting the owners and Stan becomes one with Gravity Falls. Its true protective deity. Time has no meaning and throws up a barrier protecting his home. The same one Ford has already studied in the past.

And when the zodiac fails and Stan tells Bill that that doesn’t matter because Bill will die here, Gravity Falls rumbles with excitement.

Stan spins a story about the deity protecting this land and how they will not allow Bill to break the barrier or harm them any further.

All Stan needs for everyone to do is to close their eyes and pray.

“Stan, we don't have time for your ridiculous lies!”

“Just once in your life do as I say and believe in me, Sixer!”

The people of Gravity Falls have surprising faith in their local conman and so do the kids. With no other options left Ford closes his eyes and says a short prayer.

When he opens his eyes again the world is engulfed in blue flames and before him stands the young form of his brother surrounded by the real life versions of fake tourist attractions.

Stan puts on his holy knuckle dusters and grins. 

[genderqueerdykes]

hi I feel kinda silly for not knowing, but I can't easily google this: What does tma/tme mean? I've only ever seen the abbrieviations

thanks for stopping by to ask! hey that's okay most people don't know what they mean, it's used by a niche group of people who are very rude and are hellbent on making afab people, trans men, intersex people and other queer people feel like shit all over again for no good reason.

they stand for "transmisogyny affected" and "transmigoyny exempt". they are dog whistles used to say "trans woman/tranfem" with "tma" and "afab people, intersex people, people perceived to be afab people trans men, transmascs, and basically anyone who isn't a trans woman". however the way its most commonly use code words. TME is used as a code word for trans man, transfem or afab person, TMA is used as a code word for perisex (non-intersex) transfems and trans women.

it's an easy way for people to say they hate trans men, transmascs & afab people without actually saying it, which makes them feel better about themselves. really what they're trying to do is attract people who feel the same way who are too scared to say it out loud. they don't want to risk garnering outright too much hate by outright saying "nasty transmascs, trans men and afab people" but they can say "nasty TMEs" because it's gussied up as progressive. according to the people use it, it's "about oppression,". it's not, but that's what they say it is.

people who consider themselves TMA look down on TME people because they're "not as oppressed," but i quite literally don't know in what universe AFAB people are not oppressed. that is such a twisted view on the world, first of all. AFAB people are oppressed no matter what, even if they are transmascs or trans men. AFAB people are subject to all kinds of oppression from birth. people in certain transfem echo chambers believe AFAB people, intersex people, transmascs and trans man can never suffer ever for some reason. it's really bad.

it's an oppression olympics thing. some people are not interested in having a real conversation about the struggles trans people face. they just want everyone else to clam up and listen to them with rapt attention and never speak. TME and TMA don't work because transmisogyny affects everyone regardless of gender. anyone can be affected by transmisogyny due to the hyper visibility of transfemininity.

it's also been pointed out that black trans people do not segregate people into "transmisogynoir affected" and "transmisogynoir exempt". this would be a ridiculous thing to do. it's creating unnecessary barriers between trans people.

some AMAB queer people, transfems & trans people have a knee jerk, cat hiss reaction towards queers who were born with vaginas. it's really scary honestly. i don't know why. this entire thing is to try to figure out what genitals you were born with. like be careful around people like this and don't try to tell them which one you are because they are literally trying to figure out what genitals you had at birth & what gender you were assigned at birth. it's not to make you "safer" for transfems and trans women to be around or whatever. this is a transandrophobic dog whistle. stay safe. thanks for stopping by, take care of yourself

[seravphs]

sick in the head

Gojo and Geto try marriage counseling because the therapist is hot.

wc — 1.5k

tags — obviously this is not how therapy actually works, imagine clocking into work and these two supervillains show up I’d quit

“You need serious help,” Shoko says, somewhat kindly as she observes Gojo on the phone with his favorite criminal. He’s just started his twenty minute break from tracking his residuals all over the world, trying to minimize the harm he’s causing without actually being willing to kill him. 

She’s either joking or completely serious. It’s hard to tell with Shoko. Maybe a little bit of both? 

“Huh?” Gojo says, a little peeved she’s taking his attention away from Geto. 

“I said, you need serious help. The professional kind. I looked up a therapist for you.”

Gojo’s expression clears with understanding - then annoyance. “I told you I didn’t need a shrink. Nothing wrong with my brain, anyway.” 

Shoko loves her friends, she really does, but sometimes she walks a fine line between healing and the opposite of healing.

“Just try it,” she says. She’s smarter than to try and rationalize with him. “It’s a couple’s counselor. Maybe you could see Suguru more if you sell him on it.” 

Hook, line, sinker. It was so easy to get them to cooperate when it came to each other. They were so convinced that they were unreadable to anyone but themselves, but they always forgot Shoko had been there too. All three years she had been on the outside looking in, watching the glances they cast at each other. Sometimes, she felt like she understood them more than they understood each other. 

She had always been there, silently watching. Just because they didn’t realize it didn’t mean her presence was negligible. She loved them anyway, despite knowing she was a third, and thirds were always the leftovers tacked onto a pair. 

That was how love worked. It didn’t really matter whether or not Gojo would Geto over her, or vice versa. They were her friends. She’d watch out for them. 

“Here,” she says, handing Gojo a business card. “She’s a friend, so be nice, okay?”

Gojo whistled at the picture on the clean, embossed cardstock. “I can be better than nice.” 

Shoko squints at him. “You’re disgusting. You’re going to meet her with your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, and?” He smiled wolfishly, with teeth. “I know Suguru’s type.” 

Geto Suguru was in the middle of taking a bath when his best friend and mortal enemy appeared next to him, right when he blinked. Most people would’ve screamed. Geto was not most people. Most people were not that close to Gojo Satoru. 

“I’m showering,” he said mildly. “Get out or pass me the soap.” 

Gojo does neither of these things, because when has Gojo ever listened to anyone. “Look at this,” he said, flapping a tiny rectangle of paper on his face. 

Geto sighed and lifted pruney fingers to the offending object. It had been a long day of scamming non-sorcerers and wreaking general havoc, but of course Gojo couldn’t let him rest, on top of working overtime to undo his work. He only let the bitterness of going up against a natural prodigy consume for a moment before he remembered where he was. 

The epsom salts had been a gift from Mimiko and Nanako. No matter how irritated he was, they worked magic. His muscles could never stay tense while he soaked in the perfumed water, and he relaxed into the tub again. 

The card was nicely made. It was clearly expensive, crisp black ink of thick white paper. What caught his eye, however, was the portrait on the front. The smile was sweet, sincere. He checked the business card again. A marriage counselor - that made sense. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Geto frowned. “Is this a proposal? I’m not accepting this. You can do better.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gojo says. “Isn’t she hot?”

Geto hums in agreement. “Yeah. Nice smile.” 

“Should we…?”

“I don’t have time for games, Satoru.” 

“Think about it,” he says. “It can be like the good old days. You and me, the dream team. When we worked together, no one ever said no to us.”

“She’s a marriage counselor. You shouldn’t be playing these types of games with her.”

“Don’t act like you’re such a goody two shoes,” Gojo said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just me. Drop the theatrics.”

Geto let a smile tug at his lips, feeling strangely pleased that he saw through him so easily. “Say I agree. Then what?”

They hadn’t worn suits in a long time, but Gojo insisted. He wanted to make a good impression and-

“Ladies love a man in a suit,” he said, unbuttoning his top two buttons. 

“Slut,” Geto said lovingly. He leaned over to press a light kiss to the collarbones that now peeked out of the gape of his shirt. 

Gojo flushed, the tips of his ears turning a pale pink. Geto reached up to tug lovingly at them, and then smooth down stray pale hairs. He was more relaxed than Gojo was about the situation, but he still wanted to look nice. 

It had been years since they had done this. There was a part of him that wanted to prove that he still had it. 

Gojo strode into the office like he owned. Geto followed after, trying his best to remember what it was like to look apologetic. There wasn’t much he was sorry for, nowadays. 

You look up, startled. Your patients were sometimes early, but never this early. It was almost enough to make you worry that you’d gotten the time wrong, but you were meticulous with new patients. They had picked a good time - you didn’t have any patients scheduled before them, otherwise you’d have to kick them out immediately. As it was, you were still considering it. 

“Mr. Gojo? Mr. Geto?”

The one with white hair shivered a little. A strange expression crossed his face, almost delighted, if there was anything to be delighted about while sitting on the opposite of a marriage counselor’s desk with your significant other. 

“Suguru is fine,” the dark haired one said. 

“Call me Satoru,” the one with white hair agreed. 

Suguru and Satoru. Even their names fit well together. You tried not to judge anything until you got the fuller picture, but you always tried to be optimistic unless you had reason to believe otherwise. People came to you to save their marriages after all. You hoped you could do the same for these two. 

Satoru sits down in the armchair across from you. He’s the showy one, with that bone white hair and piercing blue eyes. Accordingly, he picks the emerald green velvet, as brilliant as a peacock’s feathers. 

Suguru chooses the left hand chair, a little less eye grabbing. It’s a cool dove grey, the fabric soft to the touch. 

Sitting like this, they look good together. They seem comfortable too, coming in together smiling and laughing. You wonder what they’re here for. 

“There’s still twenty minutes until the session starts,” you tell them. 

“Oh, I know,” Satoru says. “But I thought it would be nice to get to know the woman that’s going to be picking apart our brains. Look, I even brought a peace offering.” 

He presses a box of expensive sweets in your direction. 

“I can’t accept gifts,” you tell him regretfully. “And I won’t be doing anything of the sort to your brains.” 

“I went through all this trouble to get them though!”

“Satoru, don’t be a baby,” Suguru says. “She clearly said no. I told you so, anyway. It’s not my fault you can’t listen.” 

Satoru bristles. “Oh yeah? Why don’t we-“

“Please don’t fight,” you cut in. “I can’t take gifts these expensive, but once we get to know each other better, it’s okay to be more comfortable with me. Is that alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Satoru says with an easy going smile, pleased as if he hadn’t been irate just seconds earlier. 

Suguru’s anger takes a moment to dispel, but the clouds clear from his face nearly as quickly. Scary. It seems like you have your work cut out for you. 

You can already tell they’re the kind of people that’ll be hard to direct, so you accept the extra twenty minutes they’ll get out of you. Satoru seems like a Karen, and you’re not in the mood to deal with a back and forth right now. You’ll just lock your doors next time and let them in when you’re ready. 

Against your will, you find yourself drawn into conversation with them. Satoru and Suguru play off each other so seamlessly it almost feels like they’re working as a team to disarm you, to make you feel at ease smiling and laughing along with them, but that can’t be true. They’re here for marriage counseling - surely they can’t be such a cohesive unit. 

The alarm rings. You sit straight up, startled, and try to ignore the way Satoru laughs like he thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. 

This is going to be a long session. 

[nkoprra]

i want a girl dad!toji , who learned from his mistakes w his first son and is desperately trying to right his wrong , who was never expecting a child w you let along a baby girl .

he didn't know what to do , and frankly , neither did you , but as you two finally decided on something , regardless of the outcome , it was already too late to even consider alternative options . you found out about your pregnancy late , and twelve weeks had already passed.

but he vows , the moment he feels the little creature kick inside your belly , how he would love them and protect them no matter what , just like he did with you . he was not going to be tied to what his demons dictate anymore .

and the vow to protect his little girl was renewed when he finally got to meet her , with your exhausted body holding her , toji's convictions were set . he was going to be the best dad to his little princess .

he would change and feed his little baby hoshiko , he would teach her how to fish , take pictures of every milestone she achieved , dance with her and you around his arms and especially he would watch every single barbie , princess and monster high film there has been released up to date . he would memorize her favorite character and always be sure to buy her toy .

in which every birthday koko was celebrated he would secretly shed some tears. you would find him in one ocation . crying in a princess dress that didn't fit him , his nails poorly painted and a crinkled paper crown . it was koko's fourh birthday and he saw megumi and koko smile , play and interact like siblings . you smile , your husband looking quite ridiculous and cute , but overall pitiful . it was your duty to hold him as he calmed down , toji never believed himself to be a good human . you digressed his beliefs , he proved himself with every tear you wiped off his face and with every aspiration he was telling you for his kids of how good of a human he actually was . even after all of his mistakes .

[epickiya722]

When I tell you I'm so sick of this.

Yes, yes, Bakugou used to be his bully and all that yadda yadda. Oh my gosh, wow, a bully in the story! How dare such a thing exists!

Okay, stop clutching your pearls. Even Bakugou knew he was a total ass and it's not something he ever got away with like that, let alone he does grow up, so chill.

But if you're gonna go that route, throwing Todoroki in there to be like "it makes sense to pair them instead" is kind of strange because even though Todoroki didn't bully Midoriya, they did still immediately start on the wrong foot. I mean, Todoroki could have killed Midoriya in their match but I don't see people going "I don't understand how people can ship them, it doesn't make sense to me when Todoroki could have seriously killed Midoriya that one time".

I have seen people ship Midoriya with characters worse than Bakugou, but OMG, it's their ship that gets tackled on the most and at this point, I see it as a trend.

I see it as someone has to do because they're a follower.

Honestly, it's just getting ridiculous.

If the ship doesn't make sense to you, it doesn't make sense to you, who cares? But posting about it like this and then tagging it, doesn't do anything good.

No one who has caught up with the anime and manga would post about the ship in a rather negative way would be "it doesn't make sense to ship them".

"What if they aren't caught up?"

Even so, does it need to make sense? Is it an actual necessity for someone to have a ship to make sense if at the end of the day they're just entertained by the mere thought of it and not bothering you about it?

Take it from someone who ships Miruko and Burnin and is her favorite MHA ship at this time. We ain't see them have no onscreen interaction. That didn't stop me though and going "Hey, I think you two would look cute together".

There are ships in this fandom that have a way worse relationship in canon and still people ship them.

"I see art that depicts them being cute together." Okay, so and? Are you losing HP from it like some video game character that has yet to move out the lava? Do you grow a horn every time you see cute ship art of it? It's not the only ship drawn out there being cute together. It's not like there aren't cute moments in canon for them. Then stop looking at the art. Why are you looking at the art? If you keep seeing BakuDeku art, clearly... you're in the area. Probably on purpose.

I know if I keep seeing art of a ship I don't like it's a me problem because I have the choices to not follow certain people, block the tag, etc.

Maybe you shouldn't be in the MHA fandom at all given the amount of art for them anyways that's official.

Look, I'm not bothered by someone not liking Bakudeku. Could really give zero crap about it, honestly. I have ships I don't like either.

But what bothers me is posting about it, attacking the ship and tagging it.

We all have our opinions and I believe, good or bad, post about them.

However, people do shit like this and then mask it as "having an opinion" when really they probably want to start drama.

"But, Kiya, what if they're not trying to start drama? What if they don't know the proper way to tag?"

I call bullshit and I don't care. Oh, yes, I sound like a bitch, but let's be real here.

Stuff like this happens no matter where. It doesn't just happen on Tumblr. People have done this over and over and over to the point that it is hard to believe that person isn't trying to start anything.

New or not, people by now should know that if they're going to say something negative about a ship, don't draw in the shippers.

If this person didn't want to start drama then why bring TodoDeku into this? "Make it make sense." That right there is a sign of "I'm starting drama". Uh, people do happen to ship TodoDeku. I even ship it. It's not like people don't at all in the fandom ship them and only ship BakuDeku, so stop.

It's not like this person or anybody who does this is genuinely asking and do what to know because maybe they are genuinely curious and/or considering the ship but first wants to know more about it.

No, they're just being hostile. This is not an opinion. It's an attack disguised as one.

If you don't like the ship, okay. But if you're going to post about it, don't tag it.

This isn't even about BakuDeku only anymore. I see this with ships that don't even have anything wrong with them and in different fandoms. It's tiring, it's annoying and just takes the fun out of shipping.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

The reason why Luo Binghe (specifically Bingmei) is not treated on the same level as Shen Jiu by story is because he took on the difficulty of making his loved one understand him, this is between xin mo manipulating his trauma and obsession. He inherently, did not want to treat Shen Qingqiu cruelly at any time and was terrified of that outcome. Shen Jiu at no point cared if he treated Yue Qingyuan cruelly because he was convinced of his own narrative (in a similar vein to Shen Yuan thinking that Bingmei is still the same as Bingge).

And the what if doesn't work for Shen Jiu finding out about Yue Qingyuan's hardships because he is very jealous of others of his same circumstances being able to persevere and be talented. He did not want to be seen as an equal but wanted the entitlement of prestige and the cruelty that can be used from it, just as Bingge achieved during PIDW. It did not matter how much they were beloved, because they wanted entitlement while ridiculing love. Something that Shen Jiu instilled into his Luo Binghe. Because Shen Qingqiu changed that trajectory for Bingmei he was still able to believe in small kindnesses by one person not ridiculing that concept.

Shen Jiu did not care if he was actually loved. He used being unloved as his weapon to be worse because doing the opposite was much more difficult.

[pearlywritings]

We met again

synopsis: as centuries went by, you grew to care for each other, not caring however to label your relationship anything except for 'companions'. Your paths didn't always converge, yet no matter what somehow you always end up together.

pairing: Dainsleif x fem!reader

tw: somewhat hurt/comfort, situationship/companionship, reader is a survival from Khaenri'ah and with a curse like Dain, initially was written during the Chasm release, so some things can be a little wrong lore-wise

word count: 4.5k+ words

author’s note: it was supposed to be the first part of the ex-lady-in-waiting AU for Dainsleif, which I planned all the way back in 2022 when the Chasm was released, but never actually finished the draft until now. I won't promise anything more of it (even though there were ideas), since my interest in the man is almost non-existent now, but it was fun to finilly let this one out.

Dainsleif coughed again, hand flying to press to his chest. Damn, that energy outburst did have a toll on him, a pretty bad one. He barely managed to hop around the stone fragments floating around the ruins, making his way out of them. It was hard to walk, legs slowly dragging him away from the upside down structures.

If he was to throw away all that bravado and reserved appearance he had put up to reassure the twin and Paimon, he was not okay at all. It was difficult to focus, vision blurry at times, breaths took some effort to push in and out of his aching chest and the burning sensation remained, if not intensified. His body screamed to stay near that fountain, to get that very much needed rest and relief from the curse, but he couldn't allow himself to, at least not for long. He needed to push forward, even with the smallest amount of energy remaining. At least to leave the Chasm - those dark splotches of something were not doing anything good to his already exhausted organism.

As he was about to leave the cave - above which the ruins were placed - to roam the endless routes of Chasm until he found the exit, he spotted a very much familiar figure just at the beginning of one of those routes. Even with his eyes veiled in haze he could never mistake you with anyone else.

You, who always managed to find him, no matter where he was or how much time passed between your meetings. It was truly a miracle, or it might've been fate, as you two shared the homeland and were among the ones with consciousness still.

Back then, when Khaenri'ah was existent, before the calamity occurred, he hardly encountered you. Maybe a handful of times, when you escorted the princess to watch the Royal Guards train - she found it fascinating but wasn't allowed to visit much. You were one of her ladies-in-waiting, but since there was always a group of young women you easily mixed with them, and the Captain didn't really pay attention to the bunch of giggling and fanning girls. Maybe it even annoyed him, just a little bit, having to clear his throat to call his own subordinates for discipline.

When the wrath of the Gods was cast upon his homeland, Dainsleif gave orders to protect the people as he himself rushed back to the Royal Palace. He didn't want to remember what happened there, he really would rather forget about it, but the curse of immortality that was cast upon him would never let him. That pain that he had been suffering with for five hundred years had never dulled, staying fresh and aching like a freshly torn wound.

It was not so long after he parted his ways with the first twin when he met you again. He couldn't tell the exact time of your first proper interaction, but it didn't really matter. When he bumped into you though, you both were in an equal state of shock. Right away it was impossible to say that something was wrong with you two, with a ridiculous amount of clothing you both wore, but the feeling of similarity striked. 

You sensed each other's curses, a shiver running down your spine and the twitch of his lips being the only things giving it out.

That first meeting was a bit awkward, he was not gonna lie. It was clear that there were too many questions each wanted to ask, but the lack of prior closeness to each other made it difficult. Eventually you settled on sharing your last memories of Khaenri'ah to figure some things out and on an understanding that now there were two people alike: cursed and homeless, as the doom had been brought both on you and your nation.

At first Dainsleif was very against the idea of you following him around: he was extremely aware of his mission and the last thing he wanted… well, at that time he wasn't sure if it was 'you getting in the way' or 'you getting hurt'. You were no fighter and from what he managed to figure out, in your wanderings you didn't try to learn how to defend yourself. Though, as time passed, he was surprised by how well-versed you were in other areas, such as cooking, treating wounds, earning money and many others he never paid attention to, too focused on pursuing his goal of stopping the Abyss Order.

But during your first meeting he couldn't help but think - and eventually tell outloud - how fragile you looked to him. You were simply a lady-in-waiting, you obviously hadn't been taught the things he had, and it was an issue. He had no idea how you managed to survive for so unbelievably long, but here you were, and it would've been better if you simply continued so, not mingling with his affairs.

Right then he learned that you could be quite persistent. It didn't show only in the way you called him out back then, but also in the inevitability of reunions, no matter how many times he tried to avoid you.

In the end, he gave up, didn't matter it took years to. After all, you had eternity to…live, or rather till the moment your souls are completely eroded.

He took it upon himself to teach you first defending and later on fighting, when you traveled together before your paths would part yet again.

You couldn't follow him to the portals (not like he'd ever let you, it was hard to admit, but you two developed a sense of more than an initial tolerating each other), so sometimes he had to leave you. Neither of you dwelled on it much, even if it could take a lot of time to meet again. The shortest was a couple of weeks, the longest once stretched to over a decade.

You didn't lose time meanwhile. That biggest break, for example, you had used to settle in Liyue to gain money and do some savings for the future - it was much nicer to book rooms in a guest house to spend the night than staying out in the wild. While neither of you minded the latter, the first still was better. You were very lucky that the currency and prices didn't change much over time, so now you had quite the savings still, occasionally taking commissions here and there.

As centuries went by, you grew to care for each other, not caring though to label your relationship anything except for 'companions'. You'd scold him, he'd huff in response. You'd patch him up and try to force him to rest, he'd shrug your attempts off the majority of times and carry on. You'd make a snarky remark about something, he'd let you hear a rare chuckle. You'd come and find him again and he'd go alongside you once more.

Just like now. Without muttering a word, you simply made your way to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and throwing the other over your shoulder - a motion you practiced to perfection and could do in your sleep. Dainsleif was silent too - he was too tired to try and explain anything. In fact he was at that point of exhaustion where he sent the chivalry out of the window and let his body weight gradually lean on you.

"Hold on for a little more, Dain, I'll get you out of here," was the only thing you said and he could simply nod, closing his eyes and entrusting you fully to lead the way.

Luckily, there were no obstacles, you managed to avoid them all. The only thing indicating something was wrong with the path was your arm squeezing tighter around his middle and the feeling of being lifted in the air and brought back to the ground when you took leaps. A couple of times he heard you mumble something under your breath about spotting Black Serpent Knights in the background, but that was all.

The sudden sunlight irritated him, closed eyes squeezed tighter, and he almost cursed. Hours underground made him sensitive to the bright shine cast from above and he wanted to crawl back to the darkness again. Not to mention his mind still chanted the mantra of returning to that miraculous fountain, where he could receive a sliver of peace.

But your body, pressed to his side, made its job to ground him and push some more to continue. Once out of the Chasm completely, you finally opened your mouth again, to let the words of encouragement wash over him. By your brief explanation he grasped that you had set up a camp not so far away from where you currently were and that you were taking him there to check on him and spend a night. Then there was something about him getting better, so you two could depart to a fitter place to stay, with actual rooms and beds. At the words of not letting him go this time his mind finally slipped into slumber.

The next couple of days were hard. Dainsleif was in and out of consciousness, however you never failed to be close whenever he was back in. Sometimes he spotted you sleeping, back just a little bit slouched and chin resting on your chest. He could see it rising and falling with some difficulty as well - it made him think if what had happened in the Chasm managed to reach you out there too and whether you were alright. At those times he let his gaze travel all over your face, noting the crease between your brows, the tight line of your lips, stray hair framing your face.

The Twilight Sword couldn't deny it - you were a beautiful woman. Even centuries of wandering didn't make you lose your grace and stature of a fair lady, suitable and trained to be near the heiress to the throne as a personal companion. It was almost saddening you didn't wear dresses and skirts anymore - for obvious reasons of course. Your body was fully clothed just like his, safe for your hands and face.

To think that a lovely creature like you fell victim to a cruel fate and the will of gods… How miserable.

You once told him that you stopped dwelling on what you'd become - the common people of your homeland were suffering much worse, completely losing their minds and reducing to creatures scared of their own reflection. He couldn't disagree with you, but he couldn't agree either - probably having a mind that could still erode was more horrific.

You had left that conversation at that, however. Now, still in a tent, you were holding a completely different argument.

"Dainsleif, if you are feeling better, we must use that renewed energy to go somewhere peaceful so we could rest properly, not to run off straight to the claws of the Abyss!"

"We will not, I will," oh how many times he saw you roll your eyes, rubbing your temples, it felt almost intimately familiar at this point.

"Listen, Captain, if you want to die then go ahead, but you are going to die if you go! A couple of weeks wouldn't do any harm. What can a bunch of losers do right after one of their grandest plans went south again.

'Captain' huh, you usually used that one when you were particularly annoyed with him. Next was the 'Twilight Sword', which indicated you pretty much wanted to spit venom at him. What a relief it didn't happen often, hearing you say his name was much more comforting.

"They can do everything," he argued, sitting on the ground in front of you and inspecting his cloak. "Their numbers are unknown. They should always be under the watch."

You sighed, readjusting your pose with a knee bent, elbow pressing to it and a fist supporting your cheek. Your star-like irises stared right at him and he knew you were quite disgruntled by his stubbornness.

"You are a soldier right? Even soldiers have their vacation leaves, why don't you consider this as one?"

Oh, that's another thing that became common, that very proving point of yours. He kept silent, having no desire to repeat the words he was always telling you and had said to the Traveler right before they parted. The notion 'vacation' didn't exist in his vocabulary.

You sighed again at the lack of response, redirecting your gaze outside. As he figured out, you had found an abandoned warehouse just where a current from the waterfall not so far from Liyue Harbour divided in two and traveled to the pools of the Lingju Pass and the Qingxu Pool. Just in case you had cleared the area and set the tent inside said building for better protection. The man had to admit, from the first few travels you shared your skills in everything regarding survival had gotten much better. He noted how it made him feel almost proud.

"Speaking of soldiers…" your voice caught his attention again, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Did you see the Black Serpent Knights down there? Or what's left of them, I mean. I spotted them a couple of times and thought that they would attack us, however they simply stared and let us go."

Were you trying to distract him from leaving or were you truly curious? In any case you deserved the synopsis of the events having occurred three days ago.

So he told you. About how he had exited the portal, how he had realized it was a whole network, how he had met Traveler and Paimon, how they had joined their forces and continued exploring the strange cave where you found him. He gave a detailed description of the upside down ruins and the Abyss plan but a brief summary of the effects the Abyss device had triggered and the toll it had on his body and everyone else Khaenri'ah related down there. 

"Oh, so that was why I suddenly felt so ghastly," ah, it was as he feared, you suffered it too, yet it seemed not to the same extent as those who were very close to the source.

"Don't tell me that was the reason you decided to check the Chasm."

"Yes, that was exactly the reason. Eight against two chances that if something abnormal happens, you are going to be there. See, I guessed again. And now I know that you are pretty battered for sure. You are not going to stand me up this time, we are going on a vacation."

He knew you meant it differently, but somehow your phrasing made him feel a little bit bashful. Maybe that little quiver of his heart was enough for you to persuade him to finally discuss the possibility of him willingly following you wherever your choice of spending that vacation was.

"I promise you, you'll love it," you were laying out the map with a happy smile on your face - the annoyance was replaced with excitement and the ex-knight couldn't believe him agreeing would make someone feel so giddy. It was kind of cute.

"So… where is that place?" he bent over the map when you motioned him to. His brows furrowed when he followed the direction of your forefinger.

"I apologize, but this is out of the question. It's almost on the other side of Liyue! How much time we'll waste on-"

"About 6-8 days," you interrupt him, "depending on how fast we move. No worries though, I've already done it and found two nice routes where we don't have to climb the mountains!"

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at you.

"You thought everything through, didn't you?"

"I sure did!" Damned Celestia above did you look proud, eyes shining and lips stretched in a victorious grin. "Not to mention I did some research, met with the Community Leader and got her permission to stay over whenever we'd like to. So," you tapped your finger on the location, "we are going and you have no way to get out of it. And if I spot an Abyss portal, conveniently appearing just for you to jump in, I swear, I'll tie you up with your own cape and drag away like a sack."

Oh yeah, you were persistent indeed. Sometimes Dainsleif thought that maybe helping you to train to the state of physical power you now possessed was a mistake. But at the same time it really amused the blond - the way you could handle him and boss him around at times was definitely much better than having to look after an obedient and weak court girl.

This time, he thought, maybe he must give in. After all, you'd been putting up with him for so long without much complaint (save for times when you argued about his health or small meaningless quarrels about this and that), giving you a green light was the least he could do. Besides, you put effort into your deed, made sure that you and him could take a break to restore your energy and spend time together…

Ah, the last thought was probably undue, especially in the context Dainsleif imagined. Heaving a sigh, he took a moment to clear his mind, weigh all prons and cons, and finally give you his verdict.

"Alright… we will go to the Qingce Village for that 'vacation' thing."

"Finally."

The only word Dainsleif could describe the scenery before his eyes was peaceful.

Squirrels chasing each other in the grass, boars rubbing their sides against the trunks of the trees, paying little attention to you two, finches jumping across the roads and redbill pelicans watching over the fishermen to find a perfect moment to strike and steal fish. A soft tune played on the flute had been accompanying you ever since you had set foot in the village, and the man couldn’t help but watch you somewhat fondly when you started walking two steps ahead of him to have room for an impromptu little dance.

Aside from the evident content etched in your features, he noted the grace of your steps, the echoes of the long-forgotten movements incorporated in your dance. It almost felt that, should you put on a dress and take his hand, you’d be back in the ballrooms of the royal palace, twirling to the music of the orchestra. But he didn’t dare to reach his hand - dancing was never his strongest suit.

Not like either of you really danced much at the events back then.

Eventually, passing the fields and many cute-looking houses, you led him up the road, ending at the big pavilion. There, in the middle of the vast space, an old-looking woman stood. Her wrinkled face brightened upon spotting your two approaching figures.

“Ah, young miss, you are back.”

“Good afternoon, Granny Ruoxin!” You beam with a smile - another useful skill Dainsleif had lost along the way of his travels. “May you and your village stay prosperous.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m happy to see you again - the villagers still remember you fondly for all the good deeds you did when we were in need of help,” she slowly walked closer to you and gently patted your hand, to which you nodded, while your companion could only stare at you. Just how long ago did you start planning your stay here if you had already gotten in favor of this village’s people?

Then the old woman directed her attention at him. For a second Dainsleif tensed up, awareness striking him - his uniform was…old-fashioned if not weird. But then he immediately remembered how you forced him to change into a more suitable clothes you’d gotten him beforehand, dressed his arm in bandage just to be safe and covered the mask on his face with the grown blonde hair. A sigh of relief quietly rustled between his lips.

“And that’s, I assume, the man you were talking about when we were discussing your possible vacation here? You have quite a husband, my dear.”

Here it goes again, and no matter how often it happened the Twilight Sword was never mentally prepared. On the surface though he was as stoic as ever - if people assumed you were a couple, you simply went with that assumption. Long ago you came to have a mutual understanding and thus agreement that it’d help to save mora (getting one room instead of two, discounts for couples, etc). Besides citizens, but mostly elderly villagers would fawn over you two, loving the presence of two cute and polite young(-looking) visitors, who wouldn’t be against helping around in exchange for a place to stay or something else.

It appeared this time it was going to be the case as well.

“Ah, yes, let me introduce you two. This,” you gestured at the woman, “is Granny Ruoxin, she is the Community Leader of the Qingce Village. And this is,” you stepped closer to wrap your arm around the man’s, and he had to summon his willpower not to shiver from the intimate contact,” as you’ve guessed correctly, my lovely husband, Daniel.”

“I see, I see,” she nodded with a soft smile, which made her wrinkles even more pronounced, “It is nice to finally meet you, Daniel.”

As you carefully nudged his side with an elbow and gave a “be polite” kind of look, Dainsleif did his best to muster a small courteous smile - more a quirk of the lips.

“The feeling is mutual, lady.”

The following evening was spent settling in the house of the miller of the village - a sweet middle-aged woman who was informed beforehand and gladly offered you quite the spacious room she held specifically for guests. Being left to your own devices, you and Dainsleif put your things away in a wardrobe first, and then, checking the closed window and door, you pushed the man to sit onto the bed to check on the state of his wounds. At this point, he didn’t even try to protest - silently letting you lift his shirt, even using his own hand to hold the hem to his throat while you were treating the almost healed patches of damaged tissue. When, after finishing up, you offered him to catch some sleep while you’d be out assessing the changes that might’ve occurred since your last visit, to which he shook his head strongly. If you were out of the house - so would he. You understood where it came from - left alone on unfamiliar territory with people who could ask quite many questions nearby - you’d too rather be close to a person who knew how to deal with all that. It’s just, that in that situation you were that very person.

And so you left on your journey to explore. You had had time to tell him a little about the village during your trip, so Dainsleif wasn’t completely clueless - yet seeing everything with his own eyes was still the best way to gather information about the place and its inhabitants. He soon came to realize that the place seemed to be a retirement spot for the elderly, who were enjoying the slow running of their lives, tending to the terraced fields, which he couldn’t recall seeing anywhere before, and watching over their grandchildren, whom - according to your explanation - parents sent off on a small vacation away from the city.

He mostly kept quiet if someone stopped you in your tracks and engaged in a small conversation, only occasionally nodding or giving one word answers. You almost found it charming how he unintentionally took a step closer to you when it happened and gave you a wary glance, clearly not sure what to do with himself. You had no idea what he was like back in Khaenri’ah, but even then you doubted he had been a social butterfly, and was even less so now.

“Ascetic,” you smirked, when the elderly couple who’d stopped you to offer a snack resumed their walk up into the village. The way he rolled his one visible eye and huffed didn’t escape you and only lifted your mood more. Dainsleif could argue that he was a reserved man all he wanted, it didn’t change the fact that over time he grew prone to your teasing remarks and tended to give you reactions a ‘reserved man’ would hardly give.

It was nice.

After a couple of hours loitering around not the biggest village in the world, you climbed a small, more or less secluded mountain and, perfectly hidden from the village people beneath, settled down on the grass-filled patch to marvel at the stunning view ahead of you. It would be some time before the sun began to settle, so you had an opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the mountains and hills, blooming flower fields, simply dressed people moving around, followed by dogs or lazily chewing domestic animals. A gentle breeze was rustling the grass blades below and even more so where you two sat, adding to the serene atmosphere. Caressing your faces it was playing with the man’s blonde hair - dirty at the moment, and you made a mental note of making him wash head to toe now that you had a place to stay for a while. 

Sensing your gaze, Dainsleif turned to look at you, putting an arm behind to support his body. That made you aware that you were staring at him, and by the small smirk tugging at his lips, you were hit with realization - probably just a tiny bit your stare was longing.

Damn the happiness of seeing the idiot alive after a whole year of no news from each other.

“So…” you cleared your throat, forcing yourself not to look away, “your thoughts on the place?”

Before giving you a proper answer, Dainsleif hummed, breaking eye contact to look around once more (you immediately forced the air stuck in your chest out). After a couple more seconds, the sapphire eyes returned to you.

“Still think this ‘vacation’ is pointless.” 

At that you sighed, not entirely surprised, yet still feeling slightly dejected. It was wishful thinking to assume that a stubborn man like your companion would find the idea pleasing - but he wasn’t running away yet and that was something worth a small internal celebration. Which you might have already had a couple of times. In your head.

Suddenly something bumped your knee, and a glance to the side left you with widened eyes - Dainsleif had shifted from his previous spot closer to you, now with two hands firmly planted behind him to lean on and your knees touching. His gaze was directed right ahead.

“But the place is…agreeable. Especially since I am here with you.”

And just like that the scenery got so much brighter as his words were washing over your very being. He appreciated your company, and, looking back at how guarded he used to be with you, the notion warmed your heart, sending pleasant tingles through your body.

“Yeah…” you nodded, - more to yourself than to him, - and a grin returned to your face as you mirrored the way he was sitting to turn your face to the kind rays of the sun. “I like it here with you too.”

You did not see that, but Dainsleif broke into a small smile - the first in a long time.

[wtfisgoingonirl]

Why I got on the ship, why I am still on it and why everybody is entitled to their opinion

I have read the Lukola tag on tumblr since spring last year as a guest and just signed up a few days ago. I’m not into sm at all. I like real life. But in this matter, I have something to contribute, bc the thoughts of bloggers helped me to get rid of negative emotions surrounding this topic. I’m not a native speaker of the english language, so I will try my best to describe what my motivation for getting on and staying on the ship was and is.

Probably like most of you, I was introduced to Pen and Colin in S1 of Bton. It seemed like a fun show. In episode one, while witnessing their interactions in the ballroom scene, I was intrigued by our very beloved Polin. I remember pausing the show bc I needed to know if there could be a romance between those two characters and I learned about the books and bought the ebook of Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. 

While this type of Novell is not my cup of tea, I still decided to read it bc I was eager to know the outcome of their story.

Continuing the show I was so struck by the chemistry of Pen and Colin, that I suspected the actress and actor playing them could actually be a couple in real life. So I did another research online to learn about them, their projects and, bc I was curious, about their privat life. At the time Mr. Luke Newton was dating his gf Jade and Mrs. Nicola Coughlan‘s love life was a mistery.

Even while watching S1 and S2 my interest was pinned on the interactions of our beloved Polin. And as soon as Netflix announced S3 will be Polin season, I was happy! While I got impatient for waiting for the release of Polin season, I started searching the internet for news. Oh boy, why did I do that? I learned about the breakup of Jade and Luke during filming of season 3. HBS in 2023 and that WT just started.

I watched every single Interview I could find on YT and was flabbergasted. There was so much chemistry! It was on another level. Now I was convinced they were secretly dating. I knew they were co-workers and good friends and the only thing I could think of, was that they finally fell in love on set of S3. 

I was waiting for some confirmation of N and L being together. Instead the Instyle article about L and A dating was released. What? WTF!? You kidding me? No way! Is this a rebound situation? 

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What did I whiteness till then? Had N and L been the goods of PR, just selling the new season? I was lost, but couldn’t let go. Maybe dating A was just a rumor. So I continued watching clips and interviews paying more attention to details. There I was, I had already boarded the SS Lukola without realizing it. Surrounded by the endless ocean there was no escape. I was addicted. 

While searching, I found more information on tumblr. Thanks to all the great bloggers and all the helpful comments, I felt better immediately. Great, there are partners in crime. All willing to share their thoughts, opinions and information.

The last year was so much fun reading it. I simply loved it! Until a few weeks ago… People startet to hate on each others opinions viciously. A ridiculous war got in play. Ruthless enemies, former Lukolas now Ankes, Jakolas and even the Lukola-endgamers were bitching on the Lukola tag. Fighting over an opinion based on different views of events. Senseless hating on the others, especially the ones who were still on the ship believing in Lukolas bond. That kind of behavior didn’t make any sense to me. What’s the problem? Why not let the others be? Why does everybody want to convince the opposition? Blogs started hiding because their opinion got unpopular. What a shame! 

I think all of us can freely have our own opinions and conclusions of events. I do not care about trolls. I strongly believe Nic and Luke are a married couple since last autumn. I even think there could be a surprise on the way. Yes, I said that. I am fully aware I could be totally wrong and all the assumptions I made bc of several incidents (for example actions on the WT, comments in interviews, chaos week, claddah ring, total silence of Lukey Newts in the last few month) are false. 

And if they are: Nothing bad will happen. As long as you only have an assumption and you do not hate on someone, especially Nic and Luke, everything is fine. The only toxic thing is people hyping things up and making it about themselves. By not accepting that another person is allowed to have a different opinion, weather you like it or not, you are a part of the problem. The question is how all of us handle emotions that come with other ppl not sharing our believes.

If tomorrow is the day we get a video of Luke singing ‚Happy Birthday’ to A on a beach in Cyprus and telling the world that she is his most beloved gf, then so be it. We all would be relieved of the burden of not knowing. If that happens, I will still ask: „Who is Nic‘s husband?“ (I suppose his name is not Bert). Bc as nice of a young man Jake seems to be, I would be utterly surprised if it is him, but also would be able to accept a romantic involvement.

Touches, kisses on cheeks, holding hands, putting you arm around, sitting or standing next to someone, going for dinner together, wearing the same hoodie or hat, sitting in someones kitchen or living room, going together on vacation, bathing in the ocean together, sunbathing on a hotel balcony, buying groceries and all the other usual things probably all of us did with a friend are sadly not a confirmation of a romantic relationship. So we still do not know who is with whom. We are only assuming a certain connection by evaluating the main clues.

I will stay on the ship until there is any confirmation of N or L regarding another partner or I see actual proof with my own eyes. And it has to be a picture of one of them french kissing another person or any sort of declaration of N or L! In the meantime everyone is entitled to think whatever they want to be true!

What do you assume, believe or wish?

Shipping doesn’t have to be tough. Leaving a ship is not a crime. I will probably gracefully leave at the next stop if there will be confirmation that N and L are with other ppl. Then the Endgamers will have more space and staying is also fine. I simply believe if N and L did not get together on the WT they are just friends… but who knows?

Do you want to know why I think Luke is not showing up? Because Nic wants to keep their relationship private, as she seemingly always did in the past. While he seems to be such a genuine guy who would love showing his relationship to the world, as he always did in the past, but simply got so much hate for everything he was doing that he is preferring to hide. This is also just a theory, again, I could be totally wrong. We will see.

Till then remember: Trying to insult each other is not supporting your argument. Nobody has to agree with anybody! Also nobody has to argue with anybody! Just share your opinion respectfully and enjoy the possibility of exchanging information with others on this platform. A little sarcasm is therefore essential.

Stay strong! Peace✌️