#other things I’ll add later maybe

[maricarrot]

Ok so definitely click for better quality but it’s not particularly any better I guess sobs

But like

I think I’m gonna start redesigning some au things

It’s mostly just little things except for the funky little God Akane au because by god his design and generally most things for it are irking me now

Funny haha moment I guess

[mrsimqle]

F frame muscle preset wip

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

me after editing the aau prologue for the bajillionth time

[otterdoesart]

Hey hey hey mate! ‘S been a while but I’ve just kinda scrolled through your art tag from the last three years (TIME MOVING REAL!?) and it’s crazy to see how much you’ve done in that time XD! Real fond of your splatoon ocs (manta and Ray was it?) and that one love letter fanart you made (BLEW MY MIND!? THE LYRICS FIT THEM SO WELL!! I WAS IN AWE) X) really do love spending time on this app n’ yappin, makes me wish I spend more than like five minutes a week here ,, BUT gonna do my bestest to see what you’ve been up to/ going to get up to ��� - Z (ALSO DO YOU HAVE A LIIKR A TAG FOR YOUR OC WORLD CUZ I SAW A FEW POSTS MENTION IT BUT I COULDNT FIND IT RAAARGHHH I would love to see it I am so sorry for yelling byebyebeybeye)

HII Z

Im literally at work rn crying at your kind words 🫶🫶🫶

It really is crazy it’s been so long 😭 I feel like I’ve improved in my art but stayed the same at the same time hehe

Thank you for loving my boys! I created them with my homie from high school and they consume my brain,,They’re just goofy little guys who fight and love each other :) Ray is dating Callie (gross🙄(affectionate)) and manta is dating Dove hehe

Thank you for saying so!!! About the letter fanart guehrhe I killed myself doing that last year on the midst of art fight 💀💀

A lot of my OC stuff is in my head and scattered across sites eughejehe I could ramble about them but it wouldn’t be coherent ! The story changes every 2 months jdhddndh

Oughhh i loveghsj themmm just some more silly guys

Anywho thank you for saying all that I really appreciate it and our friendship although we don’t talk as much anymore 🫶🫶🫶

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you write modern Jace being a blind king? Those glasses looks THICK. Maybe reader come to his dorm and see him with his glasses?

Request: Roommates college au where there’s a mixup with the dorms and they end up in the same dorm. Imagine rooming with Jace? He’d be so cute and maybe a little nerdy idk. She moves out but they become friends…and then more than friends

The second request has been sitting in my ask for a long time (sorry). I watched Insidious: The Red Door the other day and it gave me inspiration for it (I had planned to add smut in this one but it didn't end up fitting and my laptop didn't save a few of the scenes I had written so I had to rewrite them...not as good or cute as the first time)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When you arrived at your assigned dorm, there were already people there. One was a boy with curly hair, and the other a woman with white-blond hair. Their backs were all turned, so they didn’t see you come in with your suitcase. 

‘’No, Mom, you don't have to do that. I can do it myself,’’ he said, trying to stop her from unpacking a box. ‘’Classes don’t start until Monday.’’ 

‘’But I want to help you settle in,’’ she insisted, taking a lamp out of the box and setting it on the nightstand. ‘’My first boy is leaving for college. This is difficult for me, Jace. Let me at least help you with your bed. No one makes a bed better than a mother.’’  

Jace sighed in defeat and moved out of her way so she could make his bed. ‘’Okay. Thanks, Mom.’’ 

She grabbed sheets from another box and began making the bed. ‘’Where are your brothers and father? Taking the last boxes out of the car shouldn’t take so long. I hope they didn’t get lost on campus.’’

You watched them with jealousy, wishing your parents had dropped you off at college too. It was a rite of passage for freshman students. But you understood that your parents had jobs they could not take days off from. 

You stood there for a moment before clearing your throat to announce your presence. ‘’This is room 309?’’

Jace’s mom looked up first, giving you a kind smile. ‘’Oh, hello there. Yes, this is 309. Are you looking for someone?’’ 

‘’No. Eh, this is my dorm,’’ you said with a frown, holding your paper in your hand. ‘’It says 309.’’ 

Jace turned around, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘’That’s impossible, there must be a mistake. This is a boys hall, and boys and girls aren’t supposed to room together. It’s nothing against you, I personally don’t see a problem rooming with a girl. It’s just…not permitted.’’

‘’I know. But it says here that this is my dorm.’’ 

‘’Let me see that paper, sweetheart.’’ The blond woman looked at your paper, her eyes reading the information slowly. ‘’Oh, no. You’re right. There must be a mistake on the college’s part.’’

‘’You should go to the housing office,’’ Jace suggested with the same kind smile as his mother. ‘’They’ll switch you to another hall.’’

You nodded. ‘’I’m gonna go and see if they can solve this issue. Can I leave my suitcase here?’’ 

‘’Of course.’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

The line outside the housing office was crazy due to the hoard of students coming back, so you didn't get back to your dorm until well later in the evening. There were no voices coming from inside your dorm, meaning Jace's family must have left. 

You knocked before coming in, not wanting to walk in on something you should not be seeing. But Jace did not hear you, laying on his bed with a book and headphones on. You didn’t take him for a reader, nor a glasses wearer. 

‘’What did they say at housing?’’ he asked, taking down his headphones and shutting his book. 

You walked over to the empty bed and fell down on it, exhausted. ‘’They basically said sorry for the inconvenience and that I gotta sleep here tonight. But I’ll get a new room tomorrow, so it’s not a permanent thing.’’ 

Jace hummed. ‘’Do you need help settling for the night?’’ 

You shook your head, standing. ‘’No. I’m just gonna get my pillow and blanket, and change into pajamas. There’s no point unpacking when I move again tomorrow.’’ 

Your suitcase was heavy, so you lowered it on the floor and grabbed your pillow and blanket, then rummaged through your suitcase for your pajamas. As you held up your shorts and a tee shirt, you remembered that this was a boys' hall, meaning the bathrooms would be full of boys.

Jace seemed to read your mind. ‘’Eh, I can turn around so you can change,’’ he offered. ‘’I promise I’m not gonna look. I can even take off my glasses if you want, I’m blind as a mile without them.’’

You chuckled at his offer. What a gentleman, you noted. Making sure you feel comfortable during this inconvenience. ‘’That's okay. Just turning around is fine."

He nodded and turned his back to you, facing the wall. ‘’You’re in art school?’’ he asked, making conversation as you changed so it would be less awkward. ‘’I've seen your sketchbook and art supplies beside your suitcase. Not that I snooped through your things. I promise I didn’t.’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ you replied, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. It felt daunting to be topless in the same room as an almost-stranger, but you tried to not think too much about it. ‘’And you’re in...?'

''Political science,’’ he finished. ‘’My grandfather went to this university, so I’m following his footsteps. I’m also taking a side class in History for personal pleasure.’’

Political science was not what you expected him to say, but it made sense. With his glasses, he had the politician look — minus the sweats and tee shirt. 

What kind of weirdo takes a history class for fun? 

‘’I know what you’re thinking — history is boring. But I love learning about the past civilisations and how ancient monuments were built, it’s so fascinating. Like the Moai Statues, the Giza pyramids or the Colosseum of Rome.’’

‘’Have you ever visited one of them?’’ You slipped into your pajamas, and threw your dirty clothes on top of your suitcase. 

His lips curled into an excited grin. ‘’I have! Last year, my family and I went to Italy and my dad took me and my brother Luke to see the Colosseum. It was magnificent. I took pictures. Do you want to see?’’ 

‘’Sure.’’ 

You sat back on your bed and Jace turned back around, reaching to grab his ipad to show you the pictures he took. His passion for history could be heard as he talked about the Colosseum, telling you facts you had never heard of. Eventually, the pictures came to an end, and Jace accidentally swiped too far, showing you a picture of his brothers and him making faces in Italy. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

You didn’t think so many people would be up early on a Saturday. The queue at the campus café was insane. All for a coffee and a bagel. 

As you walked across the quad, trying to get to the bookstore to get everything you needed for Monday, flyers were being shoved into your face, advertising for clubs, frat parties and sorority houses who were scouting for new members. You were not interested in any, but they were not taking no for answer.

A neon party? What year were they stuck into? 

You threw all the invitations in the trash.  

On your way back from the bookstore, you received an email from the housing office with your new dorm information. You could move in immediately, but needed to stop by for your new key. 

So that's what you did. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your new dorm and finally shower. 

‘’You’re already going?’’ Jace asked, coming in with a paper bag containing lunch from the café you went to this morning. 

You nodded, finishing zipping up your suitcase. ‘’I’m not going too far, though. I’m just a floor up, right above you, so if you jerk off or have a girl over, remember that I can hear all.’’

Jace’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, getting flustered.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Although you had moved out, you found yourself standing outside your old dorm a few days later. 

‘’Howdy roomie,’’ you said when Jace opened. ‘’Let’s go out, I’m hungry.’’ 

Before he could say anything, you stepped in as if it was still your dorm and sat on the empty bed that used to be yours. They must not have found him a new roommate. On the desk, you noticed Jace’s laptop was opened along with his textbook. 

The brunet frowned, clearly confused by your presence. ‘’Eh, what are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Taking my roommate out for pizza?’’ you replied. You had not eaten since that granola bar at lunch and your stomach was screaming. 

‘’We’re not roommates anymore.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. It was a minor detail. ‘’I know, but you’re the person I’ve spent the most time with since getting here and I don’t feel like going out to eat alone. Please, Jace,’’ you said, pouting to put all chances on your side. 

He was taken back. This wasn’t a common occurrence for him. A girl knocking on his door and asking him out — platonically or not. 

His frown disappeared, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. ‘’Fine,’’ he sighed. ‘’I’ll put on my shoes.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Getting pizza after class on Wednesday became a weekly rendez-vous. You sat at the same table, ordered the same toppings — pepperoni with extra cheese and red bell peppers —, and talked about anything but school. You made it an official rule on your fourth date when Jace spent the whole time biting his fingers and worrying about a paper that was due at the end of the week. 

Pizza dates were your special time to unwind and stop thinking of schoolwork.

As you both settled into your usual spot, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. Early autumn rain was the worst. The weather was too warm to carry around a jacket, but when you didn’t have one, rain would randomly start pouring. 

You took a second slice of pizza and glanced at Jace. ‘’I’m gonna need your help for a project for my art class.’’ 

His eyes widened slightly, and he quickly swallowed his bite of pizza. ‘’Nope!’’ 

You frowned at his immediate refusal. ‘’You don’t want to help me?’’ 

‘’No! That’s not that,’’ he assured. ‘’Didn’t we make a rule that we would not be speaking of school while eating pizza? You’re breaking your own rule,’’ he pointed out. 

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in the booth. ‘’I know… But Mrs. Rosenberg told us this afternoon that we needed a model for our proportion piece and I didn’t want to forget about it. All you have to do is sit and look pretty while I draw you.’’ 

Jace raised an eyebrow. ‘’Oh, so you think I’m pretty?’’ he teased, stuffing a huge bite of pizza in his mouth before you could swat his arm.

You rolled your eyes and took a bite of your own slice. ‘’So, will you be my model?’’

He thought about it, a slight pout on his lips. ‘’What’s in it for me?’’

‘’Extra time with your favorite roommate?’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

‘’Is this okay? I have a red polo somewhere. Maybe it would look better?’’ Jace asked as you laid out your art material on the second, unused, desk. 

You shook your head, and started propping up your small easel. ‘’You’re perfect like this.’’ 

He nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a bit as he settled into position by the desk lamp you had priorly angled. The silence between you was comfortable as you began tracing Jace's features on your canvas, and you took a moment to really look at him — his curly hair, the faint freckles across his aquiline nose, the highlight of his pouty lips, and the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his tee shirt.

He was nervous. You immediately picked on it when you came in with your canvas and art supplies. His demeanor was different than usual. 

‘’Can you move your head slightly to the left?’’

Jace complied, the dull yellow light of the lamp hitting exactly where you wanted it. Now, you could see all the angles and edges of his face. 

‘’Yes! That’s perfect!’’

You continued tracing the contrasts and outlines of your model's face, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Jace found it cute, but he kept it to himself. 

The afternoon passed. You painted and mixed colors on your palette, lost in your creative bubble while Jace was trying his best to keep his posture...which was starting to ache. Sitting completely straight for hours was more difficult than he thought.

As you were working on his complexion, you stole glances at your ex-roommate, trying to get every detail on your canvas, and noticed him shifting slightly, uncomfortable. 

‘’You know,’’ you began, breaking the silence. ‘’You don’t have to stay completely still like a statue. Feel free to move a little or adjust. I'll tell you if it doesn't work for me.’’

Jace gave a small laugh, the sound light and nervous. ‘’I’m not really used to this… Playing the model.’’

‘’I think you're doing good. Just...a bit stiff.’’

You continued painting him until the sun began to set, then called for a much deserved snack break. Jace pulled out a pack of Oreos from the snack box in his closet and your eyes turned into hearts. They were your favorite. 

‘’You really know the way to a girl’s heart,’’ you said as you took a third cookie from the pack. 

Jace smiled at you, pleased to see you enjoying them. He took a fifth one and chewed slowly as crumbs fell on his shirt. Oreos were messy. ‘’My mom sent them to me in a care package last week. I need my sugar to stay focused when I stay up late doing schoolwork.’’ 

Your heart melted at the sweet attention from Jace’s mother.  

‘’How is the painting going?’’  

‘’It’s coming together nicely. But it won’t be finished tonight. Painting takes a while. Especially portraits,’’ you replied. ‘’I need to get every little detail right. From that one curl that’s almost poking you in the eye to the dust of freckles on your nose.’’ 

The brunet’s cheeks flushed a bit at your words. He was not sure what to do with the feeling bubbling up in his stomach. Was this a compliment? Gods, he sucked with girls. 

You stayed in Jace’s dorm until one of you began yawning and it was time to call it a night. He helped you put your painting supplies away and even offered to clean your brushes in the boys’ bathrooms. This guy was a true sweetheart. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The following afternoon, you approached Jace's dorm, your painting supplies tucked under your arm. A lot of students used their Sunday to do their laundry, so you hoped he was there. You should have texted him before coming.

You were about to knock, fist raised, when you paused at the door, hearing the faint sound of a facetime conversation coming from inside. 

‘’She’s not my girlfriend. Shut up, Luke,’’ Jace's voice came through, tinged with frustration.

You could imagine his cheeks heating up. 

‘’You go on dates all the time…and you said she was cute, and talented, and funny,'' Luke's voice, younger and teasing, said, recalling everything. 

You should feel ashamed for eavesdropping on a conversation about you, but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, butterflies filling your stomach. Jace had talked to his brother about you? If Luke assumed you were his girlfriend, he must have talked about you more than once. 

‘’We’re just friends. I don’t have time for a girlfriend anyway. I have a lot of schoolwork,’’ Jace interrupted, his tone firm but slightly defensive.

‘’Nerd,’’ Luke snickered. 

You didn’t meet him on moving day, but you assumed he was the kind of brother who loved to tease his siblings. From what Jace had told you, he was quite the little troublemaker. 

A few doors down, a guy walked out of his dorm with a bag of dirty clothes and sweatpants low on his hips, and stared you down as you stood in the corridor. He was walking your way, so you took this as your cue to knock on Jace’s door. The sound echoed throughout the quiet corridor, louder than you intended.

‘’Ohh is that your girlfriend?’’ 

‘’No, it's...pizza delivery. Tell Mom I’ll call her tonight,’’ he added in a softer tone. 

You heard movement inside and soon Jace opened the door, greeting you with his usual bright smile. He had glasses and gray sweats on, meaning he had likely not left his dorm at all today. 

 ‘’Hey, you’re here! I was starting to think you made other plans…’’ Jace said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

‘’Never,’’ you replied, walking past him and setting your things down like yesterday. ‘’Besides, I need to bring in my final piece Wednesday morning and I still have a lot left to paint. It would have been a poor choice to not come.’’ 

Behind you, Jace nodded. ‘’Eh, should I change into the shirt I had yesterday? Because I slept in and didn’t do laundry.’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’The color of your shirt does not matter. I’m still painting your pretty face.’’ 

Jace smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly; it was a nervous habit he had, you had discovered. ‘’I’ll go sit at my spot, then.’’ 

‘’Have you taken a peak while I was not there?’’ you asked as you placed the canvas and easel in front of your chair. 

You glanced over at him, half-expecting a guilty grin, but he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing slightly. ‘’No. I want to be surprised.’’ 

You finished setting your stuff up quietly. 

The sky was gray today, clouds hanging heavy as if threatening rain, so you were thankful for the artificial light you chose to use yesterday. Natural light is great, but frustrating as it changes with time and weather. 

When you began mixing colors and painting, you felt Jace’s shy gaze on you. His eyes would dart away when you almost caught him, pretending to be interested in something else, only to glance back at you a moment later. It was a silent game, one that made you smile every time you almost caught him.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

About an hour into your painting, rain started to fall heavily and the sky began to shake with thunder. It echoed loudly around the room, causing the lights to flash. 

You were used to rain and thunderstorms, so you didn't think this one was strong enough to cause a power outage, but after an especially loud crack of thunder, the whole dorm went dark. 

‘’I guess that’s our cue to stop for today,’’ you said with a small laugh, barely able to see your canvas in front of you. You sighed, slightly frustrated by the interruption, and put your brush down on the easel.

Jace moved to his window, seeing the pouring rain and an impressive lightning flashing in the distance. ''Looks like it's not going to let up anytime soon.'' He glanced at your face, but was blinded by the brightness of your phone’s light. 

You quickly apologized, laughing. ‘’I didn't mean to do that,’’ you promised.

He glared at you and went back to his bed, rubbing his eyes. ‘’It’s worse with my glasses. I can’t see.’’ 

You laughed harder, directing the light to the ceiling so no one would be blinded by it. ‘’Do you think the university has a generator?’’

‘’For the academic buildings, not the residences. It would take a massive one to provide power to the whole campus,’’ Jace explained, finally starting to get his vision back. ‘’We’re stuck in the dark until it gets back.’’ 

You sighed and abandoned your side to move and sit on Jace’s bed. You could have gone back to your dorm, but you would be sitting alone in the dark. He turned his head to look at you, noticing you sitting on the edge of his bed, and moved back to make more room for you. You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’.

Thankfully, it was only mid-November, so it was not that cold. But it will get cold eventually if the power goes out for too long…

After a few hours, the power was not back. And the room had gotten a little cold, so Jace offered you one of his hoodies. It was gray and felt like a blanket on you. And it smelled like him — woodsy and comforting. 

Through this long darkness and silence, you found yourself thinking about the conversation you heard when you came to his dorm. You figured it was heavily influenced by the hoodie enveloping you. 

‘’Jace?’’ 

He hummed, sitting in his corner against his pillows. 

The words vomited out before you could stop them. ‘’Why did you tell your brother that you didn’t have time for a girlfriend when you spend all your free time with me?’’ 

The brunet was taken aback by your question. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. ‘’W-what?’’ he stammered, his cheeks flaming. ‘’How do you know—’’ 

‘’I heard you on the phone earlier. I didn't mean to listen, I just…did.’’

Jace cleared his throat and spoke quietly, his voice strained and embarrassed. ‘’You weren’t supposed to hear that...’’ He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze. ''What else have you heard?'' 

A lump of guilt knotted inside your stomach for putting him on the spot like this. ''Not much. A guy walked out of his dorm and was staring me down, so I knocked on your door to get away,'' you explained in truth. 

There was a moment of silence as Jace picked at his fingers. He was still embarrassed, but he needed to push it to the side and make something useful out of it. ‘’I told Luke I didn’t have time for a girlfriend because I don’t know how to have a girlfriend. I mean, I do know the principle. I just…don’t know how to talk to girls.’’

You smiled, finding his honesty adorable. ‘’You’re talking to me now,’’ you said with a hint of amusement hiding behind your words.

‘’And it’s exactly the problem. We’re just talking,’’ he muttered more to himself than to you. 

‘’Would you like us to do more than talking?’’ you asked flirtatiously, extending an invisible hand for Jace to grasp. 

Slowly, his gaze shifted back to you. ‘’It depends what you mean by more than talking…’’ 

There was another loud crack of thunder, echoing and shaking the walls. The loud noise made Jace jump slightly, nervous from the proximity between you. He tried to brush it off, but you grinned and inched closer to cup his face. 

''Tell me if you want me to stop.'' 

His eyes found yours and he gripped the blanket, needing something to grab to take his nerves off. ''I don't want you to stop.''

You leaned closer, your hand still on his cheek, and pressed your lips onto his. The touch of your lips sent a jolt of electricity up Jace's spine.  He gasped, having never felt so much from a simple kiss, and kissed you back without hesitation, his lips plush but chapped against yours. 

More lightning pierced the horizon outside the window, but you were too lost in each other's lips to notice. Jace's hand that was not grabbing the blanket came to rest on your hip to pull you a little closer. He was gentle and inexperienced, you could feel it in the way he was touching you. 

You pulled away to catch your breath, but a needy whine left his lips, grabbing your hip with more force and pulling you back in. He was not done kissing you.

When night came and the power finally returned, you didn’t go to your dorm. You borrowed one of Jace’s tee shirts and slid under the covers with him. You both had classes at 8am, so you simply laid together, Jace’s head on your chest while you gently rubbed his back and slowly fell asleep.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron  @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios  @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist:  @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13  @cece05 @laylasbunbunny  @gemofthenight  @beautyb1ade  @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  @Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

[teamred]

in sickness and in health

✩‌ logan howlett x reader x wade wilson | fluff | 1.6k

SUMMARY | you may be bedridden with the flu and feeling miserable, but you're blessed with two boyfriends to take good care of you. // part of the home sweet home series + requested by anonymous!

WARNINGS | s*xual jokes, none really!

RATING | teen+

It’s early Monday morning when your body feels like utter shit. 

You toss and turn in bed, fighting the blanket away from your boyfriends in a struggle to warm up, only throwing it off seconds after because of how hot you also feel. Your muscles are starting to ache, like you ran a marathon and then some. 

Next to you, Logan’s the first to stir awake, picking up on your restless movements. Propping himself up on one forearm, he gently places the back of his hand on your forehead. 

“Darlin’,” he whispers, brushing the damp hair away from your face. “You should call in sick. Ain’t no way you’re goin’ to work like this.” 

You turn away from him in protest. “No, I’m okay. Just feeling a little tired.” 

Logan huffs and shakes his head over how stubborn you are. 

He suddenly grabs his pillow and hurls it directly at Wade’s head, who’s sleeping on the other side of you. The pillow smacks into the latter, waking him from his deep snoring with a snort and a startled jump.

“What the fuck?!” Wade mumbles, rubbing his eyes and stroking his bald head as if he’s running fingers through his non-existent hair. “If you wanted to fuck this early in the morning, you could’ve just asked, sunshine.” 

An eye-roll from Logan. “Time to wake up, sleepin’ beauty.” 

He gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt, then walks towards Wade’s side of the bed, shoving his head. “Back me up in tellin’ our girl she’s gotta call in sick today.” 

“Huh?” Wade squints at your resting body, but when he leans over and presses his hand to your forehead, his eyes widen in shock.

“Jesus H. Christ, you’re burnin’ up more than the Jonas Brothers did in 2008. You’re staying home, peanut, and that’s not a request. Doctor Deadpool’s orders!” 

You whine. “Do I really have to?” 

“Yes,” they reply sternly in unison. 

Giving into your boyfriends’ commands, you groan. As Logan heads out of the room, Wade hands over your phone.

And you hate to admit it, but you know they’re right because you barely have enough energy to call in sick. To be safe, you ask for two days off, then flop right back into bed. 

Carefully, Wade pulls you into his arms and whispers into your hair, “Need a sexy nurse to take care of you, baby? ‘Cause I think I got an outfit stashed somewhere.” 

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a flat wheeze. “Maybe later, babe.” 

“Awww, you poor thing.” He frowns sympathetically. “You can barely even laugh. Man, you must be dying.” 

A few minutes later, Logan returns, holding a steaming cup of tea and ibuprofen in his other. He sits down onto the bed. 

“Here. Take these and drink this,” Logan orders. Wade releases you as you sit up slowly, wincing as you do, and follow through with Logan’s instructions.  

“You guys should probably avoid being near me,” you rasp. You’ll definitely need to drink more tea to soothe your oncoming sore throat. 

Logan chuckles softly and Wade ruffles your hair.  

“I can’t get sick,” Logan states matter-of-factly. 

“Neither do I,” your other boyfriend adds. “Well, I mean, unless you count cancer constantly fucking me in the ass.” 

In the moment, you’re filled with utmost envy for your superpowered boyfriends and their ridiculous healing abilities.

Wade climbs out of bed, patting Logan on the shoulder as he stands. 

“I’m gonna run some errands for our little sicky princess. Hold the fort down and keep her tied to the bed with those strong arms of yours, yeah?” He squeezes Logan’s bicep playfully and gives him a wink. 

“Pick up more tea for her.” 

“Oh, most definitely. And I’ll get condoms too! You know, they say that fever sex helps you get better faster.” 

“Wade.”  

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” 

He leans down, whispering above you. “I’m not kidding. I’d still do you in your current state, but only if you were up for it. Love you, babe.” He plants a kiss on your head and departs with a wave of his fingers. 

The older of your boyfriends shifts closer to you on your bed. “Do you want me to hold you right now?” 

You groan in negation, shaking your head slightly. You appreciate the gesture, but with your body switching between chills and a fever, Logan’s body warmth would just make things worse. 

“If you need anything, baby, just let me know,” he says softly.  

In response, you hum and nod, allowing yourself to relax as much as you can. Soon enough, you drift off, and can feel a hand stroking the side of your head, soothing you towards your much needed rest. 

“Wade, she’s sick, not on her death bed.” 

You blink awake, the sunlight coming through the window stronger than before. Judging by the position of the light, a few hours have passed since you fell asleep. You’re woken up by the familiar sounds of your boyfriends bickering in the other room. 

To strangers, and even to themselves, it sounds grating. But to you, it’s strangely calming and comforting. 

“Well, excuse me for being an exceptional boyfriend! I just wanna make sure she’s got anything she needs,” Wade fires back.  

A brief pause.

“That’s… thoughtful of you,” Logan grumbles stiffly.  

Wade’s laugh rings through the apartment, and you can envision him standing up with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in amusement. “Wow, that must’ve felt like pulling teeth for you, huh? Wait—why aren’t your teeth adamantium?” 

You think Logan sighs and probably rolls his eyes too. “Go check in on her, dumbass.” 

“Love you too, my lil honey badger,” Wade says, his voice and footsteps coming closer to the bedroom door.  

A soft knock on the door. 

“Feelin’ better yet, honey?” Wade asks, peeking his head through the door. 

“Not really,” you grumble. 

In a flash, he’s right in front of your face, his nose pressed against your cheek. “How about now?” 

That gets a small laugh from you. He grins, leaving a loud, exaggerated smooch on your cheek, holding it down for emphasis. You scrunch your face up at the lovely gesture. 

“What did you get from the store?” you ask with Wade’s arm now slung around your body. 

“Literally everything. Whatever you want, I’ve got it. I’m basically Costco now.” 

You test him. “Diapers?” 

“Okay, I don’t have that,” he admits, deadpan. “But I do have five different flavours of soup, an action figure of myself and Logan for you to play with—or to enact voodoo sex, you know I love a little one-on-one action with our man!—some random German cookies, and a bottle of Chinese herbal medicine the lady down the street swore by. At least, I think it’s medicine? Hard to say. And that’s only a few of the things I got.” 

“Can I have some soup?” 

“Of course. Tomato, cream of mushroom, chicken noodle, spicy nacho cheese, or clam chowder?” 

“Surprise me.”

“Spicy nacho cheese, it is.” 

You grunt in disapproval.

“Chicken noodle soup, it is.” 

After Wade spent some time spoonfeeding you your soup and Logan replenishing your cup of tea, sleep claimed you once more. By the time you wake up again, the room is pitch dark. 

“Logan,” you groan weakly. You immediately hear the TV volume lowered, followed by recognizable footsteps approaching the room.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Logan murmurs gently, sitting on the bed and reaching out to touch your forehead. You’re warm, but it’s an improvement from the morning. “Everything okay?” 

“Is there any dinner?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Is our girl hungry?” Wade hollers from the other room. “‘Cause I’m cooking up a storm right now!” 

A corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up. “I think Wade’s on it.” 

He turns on one of the bedside lamps, the soft light illuminating the room. With it, he catches the pleading look in your eyes, one that he can decipher in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, he scoots closer and pulls you into his chest, embracing you with a tight hug. 

“I feel like shit,” you grumble into him with your arms twined at his neck, inhaling his scent. 

“I know, baby, but it’ll pass. The more you rest, the faster it’ll go away,” he reassures you, stroking your back. “You gonna admit staying home was a good idea?” 

“Mm-mm.” You shake your head, even though you know he was right. 

He looks at you with a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re as cute as you are stubborn.” 

Moments later, Wade, adorning a “Blow the Chef” apron, comes in with a bed tray. You pull away from Logan, allowing Wade to properly position the tray in front of you. At the sight of syruped pancakes, you beam, especially at the attempted heart-shaped ones. 

“Voila! Voici les crêpes,” Wade declares in a decent French accent, but you’re pretty sure he’s mispronouncing crêpes as he says it like crap. 

“Thanks for everything, you guys,” you say, glancing up at your boyfriends. “I feel really bad.”

“Never ever feel bad about being sick, baby.” Wade says, setting in on one side of you. “It just means more time for us to spoil you.” 

Logan snuggles you on your other side, wrapping an arm around you. “It ain’t your fault, and it’s what we’re here for.” 

After being out for so long, you spend your time eating the pancakes and asking how their day was. Logan gets in a word before Wade rambles on how he almost got into a fight with a kid at one of the various stores he dropped by.

With both of them beside you, you finally start to feel a little better, if not from the flu, at least from the comfort they give.

[spencereidluver]

D is for Diana

august 25, 2008

summary: You overhear Spencer calling his mother and telling her about you and how he's finally found someone like him and who can understand him.

word count: 675

warnings: none, just fluff and spencer crushing

It was a normal Monday morning. The sounds of files rustling and pens against paper filled the room as people filled out their weekly paperwork. The only thing off was the slow speed the certified genius across from you was working. There was something on his mind, but from the look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to share.

“Hey Spence, I’m gonna go make some coffee in a little bit, do you want some?” You asked, trying to find a way of cheering him up without trying to pry at him. 

“I’m good, thank you though.” He said without so much as looking up from his desk.

You let him work for a little longer, before you finally let it get the best of you, and you just had to ask him. “Okay, Spencer,” you said, finally getting him to look up at you for the first time this morning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded. “I’m just waiting on a phone call from my mom.”

That made sense. Spencer always got nervous when his mother was brought up. His phone rang moments later, seemingly right on cue. “I’m gonna take this in the conference room, I’ll be back.” 

Spencer opened his phone as he stood up, greeting his mother with a warm “hello.” He quickly ran up the stairs, nearly hitting himself with the conference room door as he entered. You giggled to yourself before getting up and making your way to the kitchen to make the coffee you’d thought about earlier.

_____

With a freshly made cup of coffee in your hand, you couldn’t help but follow your unconscious lead to the conference room, leaning against the door to make sure Spencer’s conversation with his mom was going well. You weren’t trying to be weird or creepy, you just were trying to look out for your friend. You knew sometimes his mom said things that hurt him, mostly without realizing it.

As you reached the conference, you heard the squeaky giggle you’ve heard so many times come from behind the door. You almost left it at that, but curiosity got the best of you as you leaned your ear against the wooden door.

“No, mom. She’s perfect,” you heard Spencer say. “Everything about her is perfect.”

There was a pause, Diana was talking. You wondered who he was talking about. Spencer hadn’t talked to you about a special lady before. Maybe you’d stick around a little longer.

Spencer began to speak again. “No, she is the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s gorgeous too, mom… No, I haven't asked her out… No, no she doesn’t have a boyfriend… I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. And I don’t want to make work awkward if she says no.”

Work? The girl he liked was at work? 

“I can’t just ignore her if she says no mom. Our desks are right across from each other. I’d have to face her every day.”

Oh my god. He was talking about you. Your face turned a shade of red so dark it might be classified as maroon. Your stomach had so many butterflies it felt like it was migration season. 

You heard Spencer begin to tell his mom he’d have to be going soon, and you decided you’d better hurry back to your desk so he didn’t know you were listening. He’d die if he knew, you thought.

You thought for a second, before returning to the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee in Spencer’s favorite mug. You knew he’d said no, but you also knew, especially now, how much it’d mean to him if he came back to a warm cup of coffee on his desk. You add 5 sugar packets to the small mug, just how he liked it. 

You returned to your desk, sitting your mug on your desk and Spencer’s on his. You grabbed a sticky note and a pen and wrote: "For Spence <3,”before sticking it to the mug and returning to your seat.

_____

next chapter: E is for Even Guys Like Me?

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: i'm so glad that this group of stories has been so well received :) i've worked so hard on them and am trying my best to get ahead so i can release new parts at least every other day. i love reading all the comments you guys have left too... thank you all for the support. i'm so proud of the next chapter, it's definitelymy favorite one in the series so far. it's pretty long, but in my own opinion, it's worth it. the chapters are going to start getting more relationship centered, starting next chapter!

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology

[shatteredfears-arch]

(note: briefly references being abused in your past)

anyways hi i told my frends this on messages but im kinda laugh bc tbh cassie is a self possessed bitch w v v little concern for anyone but her family, she already was becoming thay way before she turned and after she turned it just became a massively worse mess—

and yknow what bitch earned that right she put up w years of abuse when being raised by her uncle so her siblings wouldnt get hurt, she took the princes bullshit to protect the ppl she cared abt, she escaped briefly doing smthn ‘selfish’ for ONCE in her life and eventually after finally getting her own damn life he finds her and threatens her boyfriend and she agrees to go w him so long as that man stays safe.. then when she finally gets out years later and thinking he was waiting for her, he ultimately ditches her for a girl he knew for two days.

Everytime shes ever done shit for other people she got fucked over, and anytime she was ‘selfish’ which was really self preservation she was in a better position in the end. If she just killed everyone who mistreated her instead of keeping them alive people ‘what’ll people think of me’ or ‘what about their loved ones’ her life would have been a thousand times better and she recognizes that now. ofc she just murders people for fun now, it used to be her gd job and then smthn she had to do to stay alive, now its just happy fun times.

Torturing men??? after all the shit she suffered because of them? every right tbh, she cant tell whos good from whos bad, her own ability to recognize if she was good or bad ended up being 100% tethered to the dude that ditched her, she doesn’t need to care anymore. He was all that kept her from completely villainizing and ironically him ditching her fully turned her into the ‘ig i have to kill his girlfriend so he’ll love me again’ type and honestly, that’s not chill dont do thay irl but good for her. after every single moment she’s ever been selfless or did sometimg for someone else, she got tortured, abused, or otherwise??? girl earned it let her be horrible shes an antagonist through and through at this point and she earned it good for u girl

she doesnt remember any of the past except in short visions and still had the foresight to tie jack up and refuse to let him die so she can tortute him to near dearh then heal him and do it all over again just like he did to her. over and over again. well deserved give her praise

[misspygmypie]

A Tiny Tifosi?

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader, Lando Norris x Baby Maebry, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appearance Words: 1562 Request: Lando and yn taking mae and noah to a grand prix, but mae seems to favour other cars over her dad making lando jealous and upset. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando Norris had been eagerly counting down the days until this Grand Prix race weekend. It wasn’t just about the thrill of competition or the chance to showcase his racing skills. This particular weekend held a special excitement for him because it was an opportunity to share his high-octane world with Maebry for the first time. The stands were already packed with enthusiastic fans when Lando, accompanied by Y/N, Noah and Maebry navigated through the paddock.

Noah, ever the curious and energetic child, tugged on Lando’s hand. “Dad, can we go see the cars up close later? It’s been so long since we’ve been at a race!”

“Of course,” Lando, trying to mask his own excitement, smiled down at his son. “I’ve got a whole itinerary planned for you guys. We’ll see the cars, the pit lane and maybe even meet some of the other drivers. It’s Mae’s first visit so I have to make it special!”

Y/N, holding said girl securely in her arms, couldn’t help but notice Lando’s extra bounce in his step. “I think you’ve got your priorities straight,” she said, chuckling. “This is a special weekend indeed.”

Lando was eager to introduce his family to his colleagues and teammates. He had been looking forward to showing Maebry, who was just old enough to be fascinated by the colorful chaos of the Grand Prix, what his world was all about. The smell of gasoline and the roar of engines were like a symphony to Lando and he hoped Maebry would catch a bit of that magic.

When they finally arrived at Lando’s car, which was gleaming under the sunlight, he carefully lifted Maebry from Y/N’s arms and held her tiny hand up to the car’s sleek livery. “Look, Maebry, this is Daddy’s car. Isn’t it amazing?”

Maebry glanced at the car, then her attention darted to the car next to it. Lando’s heart sank as he saw her little eyes light up at the sight of the rival’s red machine. The Ferrari was practically winking at her with its bright red paint and Maebry was enchanted.

“Oh, come on,” Lando muttered under his breath, his smile twitching. “It’s just a car. Mine has more... character!”

Maebry giggled and reached out eagerly for the Ferrari. Lando tried to stay upbeat. “Maebry, sweetie, Daddy’s car is super fast and cool. It’s the best car here,” he said, his voice rising to a pitch that would make any public speaker proud.

Noah, who saw his sister gleaming at the red car, had to intervene. “Daddy’s car can totally beat that Ferrari in a race! It’s like, super duper fast,” he said, his McLaren pride clearly showing.

The girl, however, continued to be mesmerized by the Ferrari, her tiny fingers reaching towards it as if she was trying to pull it into her little world. Lando’s smile faltered completely and he felt an irrational pang of jealousy. “Why is she not into my car? Is it the color? I don't understand, it’s basically the superhero of cars!”

“She’s just discovering new things, Lando. It’s probably just the bright color. Ferrari does have a certain appeal,” Y/N tried to reassure him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Lando tried to laugh it off but it came out as more of a strangled chuckle. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just add ‘bright red’ to my car’s next upgrade, Zak will love that.”

As the race began, Maebry clapped her hands and squealed with joy as the engines came to life. Lando was focused on the track waiting for the race to start, determined to give his best performance but every time he glanced over at Maebry in the paddock club overlooking the pit lane he saw her pointing towards the rival car. It was like a constant reminder that his daughter had developed an unexpected crush on Ferrari.

Noah, meanwhile, continued to be Lando’s most enthusiastic cheerleader. “Go, Daddy,” he shouted, waving his flag energetically. Lando appreciated Noah’s support but every enthusiastic shout from his son felt like a band-aid on the gaping wound of his jealousy.

The race progressed with Lando pushing himself to the limit. He performed admirably, navigating the track with the precision and skill he was known for. However, the nagging thought of Maebry’s fascination with the Ferrari was a persistent distraction. It was as if every turn he took was accompanied by a mental image of Maebry gazing longingly at the rival car.

After the race, with Y/N, Noah and Maebry in tow, Lando approached the Ferrari motorhome. He tried to keep his spirits high, even as he recalled how he’d set up this meeting days earlier without a clue that Maebry would develop an almost magnetic fascination with Ferrari.

He took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare himself. He hoped the sight of his friends Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz would help take his mind off the day’s earlier frustrations.

The Ferrari motorhome was a hive of activity, filled with team members, fans and the occasional stray driver who had wandered in for a post-race chat. Charles and Carlos were engaged in animated conversation with a few of their team members, their faces lighting up with the energy of a good race and a job well done.

Lando, trying to appear casual despite the slight tinge of envy still gnawing at him, waved energetically. “Hey, guys,” he called out, his voice a bit too cheerful, like someone trying to overcompensate for a bad day and he cast a quick glance at Y/N when he heard her stifle a laugh next to him.

Charles and Carlos looked up from their conversation, their faces breaking into genuine smiles when they saw Lando and his family approaching. Charles waved back enthusiastically. “Hey, Lando! Great to see you all, come on in!”

Noah, bouncing with excitement, stepped forward. “I have so many questions for you two!”

Charles laughed, clearly enjoying Noah’s enthusiasm. “We’ve got time. We will answer all of them!”

Lando shifted Maebry in his arms so she could get a better view while trying hard to keep his cool. “Maebry, this is Charles and Carlos. They’re really good friends of Daddy’s.”

Charles and Carlos turned their full attention to Maebry. “Hi, Maebry,” Charles said with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

Carlos added, “Do you like racing, Maebry?”

Maebry’s eyes widened as she looked around, then her gaze locked onto the Ferrari logo on the side of the building. Without hesitation she pointed at it with the excitement of a kid who just discovered chocolate.

Lando’s heart sank even further. “Seriously? I might need to get her a McLaren onesie and start over.”

“Looks like we’ve got a tiny Tifosi on our hands,” Carlos said with a playful grin and exchanged an amused look with Charles. “Ferrari is pretty iconic.”

“That’s a great choice, Maebry,” Charles added. “Ferrari is all about history and passion, it’s hard not to be impressed.”

Y/N gave Lando a sympathetic look. “She’s just discovering her favorites. It’s perfectly okay and it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love your car.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lando forced a smile, though he still felt a twinge of disappointment but he didn’t want to make a scene in front of his friends. “I just wanted her to be excited about my car, too…”

Carlos, noticing Lando’s subdued mood, decided to lighten the atmosphere. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small Ferrari keychain. “How about a little keepsake for Maebry?”

Maebry’s face lit up and she eagerly reached for the keychain. Lando, trying to suppress his feelings, joked: “Maybe I should just repaint my car Ferrari red and call it a day.”

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Charles clapped Lando on the back, “we’ll make sure she knows how awesome McLaren is too.”

As they chatted, Maebry continued to admire the Ferrari keychain, her attention completely absorbed by the small emblem. Lando watched her intensely, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. His daughter’s fascination with the rival team was a hard pill to swallow but he couldn’t deny the joy on her face.

With goodbyes exchanged and a few more photos taken, Lando’s family left the Ferrari motorhome. Maebry clutched her new keychain, her face beaming with happiness, while Noah chattered excitedly about the day’s events.

Later, as Lando carried a sleepy Maebry on his shoulder, her little fingers holding onto the Ferrari keychain and a souvenir flag, he felt mixed emotions. Despite the day’s earlier frustrations, seeing her so content and peaceful made his heart swell but he was still jealous.

Y/N looked at Lando with a knowing smile. “You did great out there and Maebry had a blast, even if she’s got a bit of a rivalry going with your car.”

“I guess she’ll have her favorites just like everyone else. At least she had fun,” Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

Noah, still buzzing from the day’s excitement, grabbed Lando’s hand. “Dad, you were awesome! Even if Maebry likes the other car, you’re still the best!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Lando said, squeezing Noah’s hand. “That means a lot.”

As they walked to their car Lando glanced down at his daughter. Maybe one day she’d appreciate his car’s greatness - or at least learn to love both Ferraris and McLarens.

________

AN: This request made me chuckle so hard lmao I had so much fun writing this!! (Also, the irony of me writing this after the past weekend 😭)... Anon I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill – earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud – noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice–fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call – quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. 

“Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update – although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game – so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word – girl, from what even – so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming– but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[syoddeye]

down the hatch

141 x reader, featuring a smidgen of soapgaz in this bit. ~1.5k words.

part one | two | three

tags: poly141, soapgaz depicted. reader is a little cuckoo for coco puffs after being alone for three months. voyeurism. half-assed masturbation. a gun. kind of crackfic, kind of not.

banner from @/cafekitsune

“we’re not gonna hurt you,” ballcap insists, crouching to open the cupboard under the sink.

“just a little,” dry bones adds, not bothering to lower his voice.

“he’s lying, kitty, swear we won’t hurt you.”

holed up in the surveillance room, you listen over the crackling feed through the attached headset, absolutely fuming. panicking, too, but the door is shut and locked. the seal blends with the maintenance room’s panels, and the button to open it is hidden in the electric panel. the bunker’s build, many cameras, and folding bunks in the second bedroom suggest the austrian had long-term plans to repopulate earth or intended to abduct others but ran out of time.

either option would’ve blown, but now, his paranoia and apparent voyeurism came in handy. the stupid, unwashed idiots look dumb as hell crawling around looking for you.

after a while, they assemble in the kitchen and spend the next hour taking inventory. they are not impressed by the yanni collection, but they are intrigued by the bed you stopped making and the half-completed puzzle of the eiffel tower. you snarl as ballcap completes one of the corners. fucking uncivilized freaks, trampling all over puzzle etiquette. if you didn’t have the external feed and a pile of hardened ooze for proof, you’d know the world had gone to hell in a handbasket. depraved.

eventually, scragglebeard rustles up dinner. it’s obscene, the amount of food he uses. the men lounge and luxuriate in your kitchen and your living room. it doesn’t look like they’ve struggled for much. they eat like a pack of feral dogs when presented with a stew and mash. mohawk produces a half-full bottle of liquor, and the four nitwits have the nerve to toast the discovery of their new home.

a growl from your stomach tempers your outrage. you didn’t consider supplies when you hid. just survival.

the men laze after their meal.

“gonna go have a shower.” mohawk announces, slapping his thighs as he stands.

“thank christ.” dry bones jeers.

“join me?”

you straighten in the swivel chair. that's unexpected.

“nah, i’ll go later.”

“is it an open invite?” ballcap asks.

“always.”

“warm it up for us, then.” 

you won’t use the cameras that the austrian installed in the bathrooms—that’s crossing a line. then, a minute later, ballcap follows mohawk, and walks right past the three-quarter-finished eiffel tower. you think, vive la france, joie de vivre, or whatever.

a pity the cameras in the bathrooms don’t have speakers. the lens is a bit foggy, but the view is decent. the men waste no time stripping.

the camera sits in a vent, points through the grate, and into the showers. they’re in the stall closest to the door, convenient. mohawk pins ballcap to the slick tile, his hands gripping the other man’s hips so tight you see his knuckles whitening. desperate thing.

it’s kind of boring after a few minutes. mostly mohawk sloppily kissing and nipping at ballcap’s mouth and lips, occasionally detouring down his neck. their junk is mostly hidden at this angle, presumably slippery from the shower and all the dry-humping. wet-humping? ballcap kneads the fat of mohawk’s ass, his eyes fluttering when a particular patch of his throat gets attention. 

fuck, okay, maybe this is more titillating than you originally thought. you adjust in the chair, finding the seam of your jorts (craftily fashioned from men’s jeans you found in a closet), and slowly grind along it. it’s lazy, but you’re not gonna stick your hand down your pants if this is all you’re getting.

and as if reading your mind, mohawk breaks from ballcap’s grip and sinks to his knees. his juvenile haircut flops flat under the water, but ballcap’s dick sure doesn’t. even through the sub-optimal camera feed, you know it’s pretty. the way mohawk immediately hones in confirms, licking up the underside and palming his sack. when he finally gets his mouth to the good part, you unbutton your fly, shove two fingers in your mouth, and lean back. 

near-constant masturbation lost its novelty around week three, but it's like riding a bike. you manage a few good, firm circles, beckoning heat out of hibernation when sudden movement on the camera startles you right out of a lovely, burgeoning haze.

fuck bucket. ballcap has mohawk hoisted by the armpit, their abandoned cocks practically wagging. he’s rapidly speaking and pointing right at the fucking vent. how the hell he spotted the tiny red light, you don’t know, but dry bones and scragglebeard stumble into the bathrooms moments later. 

dry bones disappears beneath the frame, and the camera shakes slightly as the vent cover comes off. he steps back, mouth moving beneath his mask, and the four men exchange looks.

scragglebeard speaks as the naked men hastily dress, then start a second sweep of the bunker. this time, armed with the knowledge that somebody’s watching, they don’t split up. they move as a unit.

you watch in horror as they upend the bunker. they move furniture, poke outlets, and empty all the shelves to feel for switches and levers. distantly, you think you would’ve made for a decent escape room operator in the before times. you stifle a mad laugh at the idea, nearly choking when they finally enter the maintenance room.

hand pressed to your mouth, you breathe shallowly as they search. they’re more careful, skipping the electric and valves altogether, probably afraid if they fuck with anything too much, the power or water will go out. they check the ridges between the panels, and you hold your breath as dry bones runs his fingers along the hidden seal.

he stops and peels off a glove. pressing his palm to the secret door’s front, he hums. he glances over his shoulder, directly into the camera, then at scragglebeard. 

“the wall’s warmer here.”

“think there’s something behind it, lt?” mohawk asks. 

lt. initials?

mohawk shoulders dry bones out of the way, pressing his full cheek to the panel and paws at the metal. you freeze, unsure if you’re breathing at this point.

“think it’s residual heat from wiring.'' mohawk finally concludes, pulling away with a shrug. ‘lt’ looks unconvinced, and scragglebeard itches at his namesake.

“it’s gettin’ late. let’s bed down, look again in the morning.”

“you’re not worried someone’s watching us, sir?”

sir? ooh, is it like that? kinky.

“no. if they are, they know we’re armed and in good health. ‘sides. we’re going to cover them.”

your mouth dries. no. no. no. no. fuck, your one advantage. 

the men file out, and lt leaves last. he fishes a strip of cloth from a pocket and stuffs it around the camera’s base, obscuring its view.

“gonna find ya.” he mutters.

one by one, they cover the cameras they’ve found, leaving you with only three. thank you, austrian freakshow, for not skimping on surveillance. you still see the living room, a sliver of the kitchen, and the maintenance hall. it’s not much, but it’s enough to inspire a plan.

you watch the men turn in for the night. you’re not stupid, though. you wait an hour and a half until there’s no further movement, and the bunker’s dark. it’s now or never.

sneak out. grab food, water, and a kitchen knife. flee the bunker. easy.

if it’s still standing, your old one-bedroom rental is a short distance away. you’ll fortify it, then work on luring the rats out of your nest.

tiptoeing past the bedrooms, at least two of the men saw logs. ugh. didn’t miss that in the apocalypse. 

in the kitchen, you gather supplies. tins of tuna, soup, and vienna sausages. the last potatoes. some protein bars. a reusable water bottle. salt and pepper. (spices and seasonings are on the top of your scavenging list.)

satisfied, you tie the corners of your makeshift bindle together and turn to head to the entrance point when your eyes drift over a small shape in the dark. there, atop a side table in the adjoining living room, is a handgun.

in theory, you know how to use it. you logged a good thousand hours on goldeneye 007 as a kid. loads more effective than the paring knife in your hand.

you creep toward it, eyes widening and heart racing. could use on the interlopers while they sleep. but how would you get their bodies out of the bunker? you don’t want to training montage until your muscles swell, not with their corpses doing the same thing in the spare bedroom.

no. much more useful out there. you reach for it.

and somebody reaches for you.

a hand closes around your forearm, squeezing hard to force you to drop the knife, and another wraps around your head, hand clamping over your mouth before you can cry mon dieu. 

the wrapped cans clatter and smash to the ground in the struggle. a deep voice, harsh in your ear and tinged with insufferable smugness, whispers. 

“told ya i was gonna find ya.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.

Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)

Word count: 5.8k

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“

“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.

You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”

You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”

“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”

He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”

You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”

He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.

If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.

“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”

Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.

One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.

Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.

“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”

“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”

“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.

Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.

“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.

“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”

You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.

——

About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”

Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”

“Something just fe-“

Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.

“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.

As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.

“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.

“I-“

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.

Six men coming to form an arch around her.

“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”

“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”

You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”

“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“

“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“

“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”

She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”

“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”

“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.

The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”

She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”

You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”

“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”

You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”

“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”

You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.

Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.

You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.

“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.

The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”

The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“

“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”

“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.

“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”

You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.

You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.

You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.

“Are you going to piss or wh-“

You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.

You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.

“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.

You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.

He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.

He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.

As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.

You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.

He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.

You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.

His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.

You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.

She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”

She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”

“M’fine. We don’t have time.”

You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.

As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”

“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.

“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”

“I swear to god if-“

“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.

You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.

Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.

You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.

“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“

He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”

The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.

Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.

You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.

He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.

One of the guards from

You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.

He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.

. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.

Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.

And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.

The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.

“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.

“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”

You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”

“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”

Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.

You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”

She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.

The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.

You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.

“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.

She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.

“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”

“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.

As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.

You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”

She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.

She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”

“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.

She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“

Now you were pissed.

Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.

You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.

You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.

You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.

You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.

You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.

More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.

“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.

You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.

“Y/n! duck!”

You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.

The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.

You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”

She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.

The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, “Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”

“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”

“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.

Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.

You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.

The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.

As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,

It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.

She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”

Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”

“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”

Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”

“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”

“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.

“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.

You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”

Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”

——

About two hours later, you finally reached home.

Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.

“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.

“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.

You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”

That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.

“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”

Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.

You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.

“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.

“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”

He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”

“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”

You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”

“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“

You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”

“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”

You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.

You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”

Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.

“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.

“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”

You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”

Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”

He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”

“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”

Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”

You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”

“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.

“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”

You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”

“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.

“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”

“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”

You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.

“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”

You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”

You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”

You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.

“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”

“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”

“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”

“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”

“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“

“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.

He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.

“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.

Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.

“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”

“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”

You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”

Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”

He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.

Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”

You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”

You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.

He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.

He blames himself, and you knew that, too.

Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.

You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.

“Can you help me sit up?”

Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.

“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”

“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”

“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“

“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”

You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”

He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”

You nod, “Thank you.”

He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”

“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”

Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”

He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”

He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”

“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”

He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.

You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”

You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”

“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”

He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”

“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”

Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”

You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”

He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.

You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.

“You know you called me baby a few times.”

Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”

Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”

You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.

Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”

He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”

She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”

——

Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[keyaho]

.summary: nami's punishment continues. terry divulges himself. he also exposes himself. and indulges again.

short warnings: sensory play, oral, fingering banner: by me (i'm working on making some better than this one lmao. first attempt I know it ain't cute)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Nami thought she would get tired of her hands being bound away from her. She thought she would snap and tell him she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, she pulled on them as her arms ached, so much that the burn became familiar; like brushing her teeth. She wanted them even if she wanted to touch Terry more. In the guest room, Nami flexed her feet, one of them was bound at the ankle to the end of the bed. The other was pushed up, opening her legs. She stared up at the ceiling in wait, Terry somewhere in the house doing who knows what before he came and did god knows what to her body. 

“Your playtime has been cut in half, significantly,’ he says, still feeling miffed from her earlier attitude. 

Nami noted that Terry wasn’t going to just let things go. He held her to her choices while standing on his own. The fact that he was still going to indulge her was surprising. After the chicken tenders and fries, she figured he would keep distance between them. Instead, he spent ten minutes kissing her while her hands tugged on her pretty yellow leather cuffs. Personalized with ‘Pretty Gyal’ in black thread, the cuffs were becoming bracelets. A cute accessory to the debauchery Terry inflicted upon her. 

“But, I can indulge myself, yes?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good.” 

She couldn’t see him from her positon on the bed. Head in the pillows, the room was a comfortable temperature, the cuffs weren’t too tight and she was at ease. Moments later, Terry came to the side of the bed, placing a bowl on the table next to it. He picked up her phone and turned it off. 

“No distractions.” He had left his own to die in the kitchen. 

The guest bedroom door was shut, enclosing them in their own little world. He knelt next to the bed, his finger tips running along her side. 

“Tonight was supposed to end with my face buried in your pussy. I was supposed to be eating you like the last supper, watching you try not to cum. I was supposed to let you get one off, because I wanted to watch you break apart.” 

“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she says, ‘really sorry.” 

Terry’s face softened for a little, she noted the way the lines in his forehead disappeared before they snapped back and his eyes slanted away from her as he looked at her restraints. 

“So you’ve told me.” He paused. “However, your punishment doesn’t end after being spanked.” He kissed his teeth and shook his head. “I want the lesson learned to stick so you remember not to do it again. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He looked behind him at the bowl before continuing. “You circled sensory play and over stimulation.” 

“Yes, Sir,’ she replied, though her voice lifted at the end in question. 

“I’m going to add edging and if you are a good girl for me, I might let you cum.” 

The threat and reward lingered in the air between them. Her body tingled as he stood up with his fingers stroking her cheek, her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth. The bowl beside the bed disappeared as he placed it on the bed between her legs. 

“I want you to talk to me, okay?” Terry vocalized. “This is for you and you need to tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.” He gestured to the room. “In here, I’ll do my best to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want.”  

Terry’s words hung between them as he stood up. 

He didn’t like to improvise but the chilling item in the bowl would have to do. Cold, his fingers dipped into the ice, the circular pieces came from a mold meant to make it easier to add to water bottles. The cylinder shape looked phallic and the sadistic tendencies Terry had began to surface. That would not be happening tonight. He wanted to be the first thing to fuck her. 

“Just feel,’ he instructed, ‘make the noises you want to.” He looked at her soft brown eyes. 

Nami hissed as the ice that landed on her belly and it sat chilling on her skin. It slowly started to melt, the cold water running down the her sides and hips. As it sat there, Terry took another piece in his hands and ran it down her inner thigh. She was warmer here and the ice snapped in half in his hands. 

“Hm..” 

His hands dipped into the bowl again and she hissed when a piece of the ice circled her nipple and another slipped between her legs. 

“Oh,’ she hummed, unsure which sensation she should focus on. 

The one on her chest was cold, but it was tolerable and her nipples hardened as he circled it around. The ice slipping between her lower lips was harsher, colder, and uncomfortable. 

“I…I don’t,’ she began, her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to find the words. 

“What’s wrong?” Terry asks, stopping his movements and that gives Nami the clarity she needed. 

“I don’t think I like that as much,’ she admitted in a whisper. “Can I scratch that off the list?” She asked, the genuine question in her eyes made him smile. 

“Yeah, we can take that off, babygirl.” 

The initial touch of the ice was blissful, but the biting chill of it after wasn’t something she’d derive any pleasure from. Not even from the ice that he was pressing flush to her pussy, though the cold she liked. 

“Tell me why you don’t like it.” 

Nami licked her suddenly dry lips. 

“What part of me playing with your pussy with ice turned you off.” 

“The…the, um,’ she fumbled, his expression was one of pure elation as if he was enjoying talking to her this way. This wasn’t a Dom in front of her. Her free leg suddenly drew upwards as realization set in. He was too readable this way and she didn’t know if to feel happy or aroused. 

“At first it feels good. But then it’s too cold and it hurts. It stings and numbs.” 

“We can try it another way.”

He couldn’t push it off any longer. The ice had long since melted and his fingers were coated in her thick and sticky essence as he worked it from her body. He could feel her body shaking to stay still. Her hips stuttered and she gave into the pleasure, eyes drifting closed as she moaned. 

“You like that,’ he teased, applying a little more pressure. 

“Yes,” 

“Shh, my pussy is talking,’ he grabbed another piece of ice and chilled his hands before adding them to her body. 

He alternated between eating ice and rubbing it across her skin. The more he played with her pussy the hotter she began to feel and the ice became pleasurable. 

“That’s it, pretty baby.” He cooed. “You want to cum for me don’t you.” 

Nami was speechless, the multiple sensations her body was experiencing made her toes curl. A knot sat deep in her stomach, tight, and getting tighter. She fought against it but she knew moving would make it worse. Nami took deep breaths, loudly blowing them out as she tried to count herself down from a ten to a two. Her head cleared a little and she thought of something else, the shake in her limbs relaxing after a few minutes. Terry had pulled his hand away and watched as she fought the urge to cum. Her chest rose and fell slowly and she counted to herself. 

“Good girl,’ Terry was amused, ‘yu really waah cum fi mi nuh you?’ he laughed. “Tell mi how it feel.” 

Nami watched his eyes light up as he smiled. All fucking thirty-two teeth were bared and the shift in his speech sent the flood straight from her pussy to the bedsheets. She blinked in wonder as he kissed her wrists. Terry then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, nose, and then her lips. His fingers began to poke around her hole, flirting with her wet folds as his tongue licked into her mouth. The squelching sounds had been minor before. She could hear them now and feel the way her slick stuck to his fingers. 

“Talk to me, Nami,’ he whispered.

“It feels good.” 

“I know that,’ he replied. “Talk to me.”

“You have me so wet,’ she admitted, his fingers stroking continuously in the same pattern, driving her thoughts wild with the repetition. 

Her breath fanned against his face as she breathed, trying to control herself as his thumb began to strum her clit like a guitar. His fingers moved downward and she bucked her hips unexpectedly when his middle and ring finger pushed into her cunt and stroked in a ‘come hither’ motion. His thumb made light circles on her swollen clit. He scissored his fingers, stretching her left and right. 

Terry kissed down her jaw and sucked on the skin of her neck. The words left her lips faster than she could form them in her head. 

“Does it feel good, baby,” Terry asked. 

 “Yes, Daddy…” 

“Who's making you feel good,’ he hissed. His stroke became faster. 

“You, Daddy-please,’ Nami pleaded. His hand was doing demonic craft through his fingers. He was the spawn of a pleasure demon and she could feel her offering leaking from between her legs. 

Nami felt her body arching into his fingers, seeking out more from him, and he pulled them away. The relief that washed over her as her body fell to the bed was magical. Clarity set in and she threw her leg over to close herself off, trying to rub away the intense feelings pulsating through her slit. 

Terry reached over to the nightstand and turned on her phone. He slid it unlock and set a timer. He dropped the phone onto her stomach as he kissed down her body, his tongue drawing her left nipple into his mouth. He grinned as she pushed her chest upwards towards him, the touch caught her off guard. His tongue lapped there for a few seconds then left a trail towards her sex. Before that he tapped the outside of her leg to get her attention. 

“Yes, Sir,’ she slurred, the sexual haze settling over her as she tried to keep her thoughts clear. She was overwhelmed and her body felt hot. 

“You have two minutes left,’ he pressed a light kiss to her sex. The tip of his tongue flicked against her swollen clit and she whimpered. “You can hold it that long and Daddy will let you cum.” 

“Please, I’ll be good!” She didn’t want to wait two minutes. 

Amused, Terry looked up from his wet fixation. “You’ll be good huh?” 

Nami whined. “I’ll be so good for you.” 

He kissed her pussy again with a bit more firm pressure. Namis legs shaked. 

”Two minutes.” 

He started the timer and pushed her legs apart. Terry pressed his hand into the back of her knee and held it open as his tongue licked between her wet slit. She tried to count, but lost track when he licked from her weeping hole to her sensitive throbbing clit. Terry felt her trying to drag her body away from him. He let her, watching her twist away from him as he licked his lips. He followed her, pushing her legs back open. He finds the phone and drops it beside her head, his eyes threatening her to keep still. 

“Be still.” 

He grabbed her hips and lowered his mouth back to her pussy, slurping his tongue through it. His mouth was cold. The ice shocked her body with a sudden chill. Terry’s tongue quickly licked the chill away, warming her up and making her slicker. The sounds of him eating her out were loud and wet. He sucked her clit into his mouth roughly as his fingers rejoined in stroking her hole. 

Nami was on the verge of tears, the knot in her belly was hard to keep away, and she couldn’t see the time to know what was left and she was sure she wasn’t going to make it. 

“Hold out for me,’ Terry says. 

His fingers were playing a symphony on her g-spot, how could she? 

“Yuh naa go rush Daddy yuh?” 

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as she caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth and chin were soaked. The sight of him covered in her mess was too much. The deep baritone of his patois was just as mind numbing as the fingers that had been slipping in and out of her pussy. Nami’s legs drifted shut, her toes curling. 

The alarm on the phone blared and she let go, whimpering as her orgasm soared through her. She didn’t even need him to touch her, just the sight of him between her legs tasting her and the feeling of his thick tongue pushed her over. The alarm was just the trigger. Terry watched her body shake, her hole leaked, creating a large wet spot on the sheets. He thumbed her over the sensitive clit and watched how that same leaking hole clenched around nothing. How her sweet little pink cunt needed to be filled as it welcomed his fingers again. He stroked her a few times, watching her face wince in overstimulation. As Terry watched her sum, he kept eating the ice. 

When his cold tongue flattened against her pussy a second time, Nami tugged so hard on her restraint the latched holding them to the bed snapped. Her wrists were still bound as they came swinging forward from the sudden momentum. Terry heard the snap and looked up and his hand came out to grab her wrists before her hands could grab him. He had disclosed jujitsu as one of his hobbies but she was still surprised at his reflexes. Maybe it was the marine in him too. Either way he pinned them over head, but didn’t hold them. He looked at her in warning and she silently understood. 

“Yes. Sir.” 

He brought her body to the edge of the bed after unbinding them completely. He knelt between her legs as he watched her hands to make sure they were above her head. She had them face downwards and gripping the sheets. Once he parted her legs his mouth latched on to her clit. He assaulted it with his tongue, licked, sucked into his mouth, and devoted so much attention to it she was begging him to let up and slow down. 

His tongue licked lower, his resolve gone as he licked his way into her hole, sucking the slick she hadn’t stopped leaking. It was all unbeatable this time and he gave into temptation. He pulled her legs over his shoulders so he could hold her still. Nami rocked her hips against his mouth, his wet and deadly mouth. 

“I knew this pussy was going to taste good,’ he breathed out, a light chuckle in his chest.

His eyes were blue, Nami’s mouth dropped open as Terry’s tongue flicked against her like a snake's tail.  

With her legs pressed towards her chest, Terry’s tongue played around in her pussy. He was such a noisy eater, slurping and sucking until she was trying to wiggle away from him. His hips began to rock and he flattened his tongue against her pussy letting her ride his face. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air. She needed some relief and it was starting to expand in her lower belly. A fire so hot the ice on his tongue did little to soothe. 

She felt like crying. The sensation of being licked and forcing herself not to cum was making her head split. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Nami looked down at him again. His eyes, fuck, those eyes. 

Were they? 

Green? Now? 

Chameleon ass…..

Fucking green eyed bast-

The shrill of the alarm scared Nami right into her orgasm. Her back arched off the bed and her toes curled from their position in the air. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her pussy quiver as she wished to turn on her side and rub her thighs together, the friction needed. 

When did he set another one?

Terry tore himself away from her cunt. Standing abruptly he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, but his skin still shone with the aftermath of her orgasm. 

Nami tried to sit up. Her body slumped back to the bed as she joined him in trying to catch their breath. Her voice was soft, sleepy sounding, but he heard it: 

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Terry looked down at himself. He had worn briefs beneath his sweats, hoping to contain himself a bit better and resist the urge to jerk off as he tasted her. Nami wasn’t like previous submissives. Her naivety turned him on. Her wonder and interest renewed his lust for the community. He looked down at her, his heavy breathing silent as she laid there, legs spread, for his next instruction. She was waiting to know what he wanted her to do. He bit down on his lip, slightly upset he lost control just now. He shouldn’t have indulged in her the way he had. Not when punishment was the precursor. He should have edged her and then let her be. Yet, Terry had given in. He had let her cum. He had went against his own R.E.L.Ls to indulge when he had been waiting for the right moment. A tinge of anger settled into his bones and he looked away from her inviting body and slipped into the bathroom. 

He had exposed a part of himself that he shouldn’t have and she caught it. Caught him. He couldn’t fault her for what she did not know was happening. As he busied himself with running her a bath, Terry opened the bathroom’s closet and pulled out a towel and placed it on the sink counter. 

“Sir,’ came her soft voice. 

She stood in the door, her hands bound in front of her, curly hair messy, and his shirt was wrinkled and damp. Nami was a mess of his doing and he bit back the urge to smile. Shit. He needed to reel himself in. The scene was over and he could feel the drop in energy. 

“Yes?” He replied after swallowing. 

“I was trying not to cum.” She whispered. She raised her hands and rubbed them over her flushed face. Her mascara had run, making dark streaks over her cheeks. “I really was trying.” 

Terry’s eyes softened as he walked over to her. “I know.” He cupped her face and brought his head down to kiss her. “You made it to the end of the two minutes.” He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Twice.” 

“Am I still in trouble,’ she asked as she pursed her lips. 

“Nah, you’re not in trouble.” 

He let her go and she watched him prep her bath. He never stayed in the bathroom with her, so when he beckoned her in she didn’t hesitate. 

“Grab the counter.” 

She put her back to him and placed her hands on the counter. He stood behind her and she watched him in the large mirror. Shirtless, his chest pressed against her back and he unnecessarily leaned into her to remove the cuffs. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his fingers unlatched the leather. He kissed her neck, pulled down the shirt and pressed his lips to her shoulder all the while keeping eye contact with her in the mirror. She tried to look away but his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in and keeping her hostage. 

With the cuffs gone, Nami lifted her arms to rub her wrists. Beside her, Terry opened a drawer and pulled out a blue tin of salve. His hands then grabbed the back of the shirt and lifted upwards before tossing it into a hamper near the closet. Terry turned around and turned off the water, testing the temperature. She stayed still, watching him over her shoulder. The muscles in his back flexed as he stood up right. 

“When you’re done, wrap in that towel and come see me in the living room.” 

Spread over his lap, Nami’s eyes rolled upwards as he rubbed the thick salve into her ass and inner thighs. His thumbs pressed into her skin and she went limp, enjoying the care. She was in another one of his shirts, not caring it was hanging off her head as she let her arms dangle. His hand smoothed up her back, her shoulders slumping more into his thighs. 

Choking. Spanking. Grabbing. Massaging. 

Those hands could do whatever they wanted to. 

“Do you need a nap?” He asked. 

They had done a lot over the past few days and he wondered if he was moving too fast. She was just so willing. 

“Not yet,’ she replied. If she did she wanted to take on with him. 

“I want to talk about one of the kinks you have.” He says. 

He pulls down her shirt and helps her sit up. She tucks her hands into her lap as she sits cross legged next to him on the couch. He closed the salve tin and dropped it on the infamous table. 

“Yes, S-’

“Speak freely.” He says. “This one is serious.” 

He had studied that paper like it was his orders for work. 

“Do you understand the depth of control I have to have to allow you to participate in consensual non consent, even with me?” 

Nami bit down on her bottom lip. It was one of the first kinks she circled and though she knew the extent of what it could be, Terry’s question had her second guessing. 

“No.” She whispered. “Do you not want to do it? We can take it off.” 

Terry’s hand came down on her knee, stopping her fidgeting. He leaned back and shook his head. 

“That’s not why I am asking.” He looked at her and then to where his hand was on her thigh. “You are giving me consent before it ever happens. That’s different than in the moment. Yeah, you can safeword, but there is no other way to do the kink unless you go all the way. No safewording.” He could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to prior, but we can’t plan this kink. It comes when I want it to.” 

Nami had mentioned she wanted to give up control, as much as she could, because she liked being used in that way. For lack of better words if he wanted, Terry could use her as a toy. She derived so much pleasure from sexual intimacy. The kinks heightened the feelings, but being that close to a man was the main turn on. To be desired in that way. 

“If I see you aren’t enjoying it then I will stop it. And we can try at a later time.” Terry continued. “I’m going to come to you when you don’t want it. When you’re tired or when you’re busy. Your safe word is the only trigger and if you use it, I will never do this kink again.” He paused. “If I have control then I have it. It’s not shared. It’s not traded back and forth. It’s mine the same way your body will be in that moment. At my discretion and for how long I desire to use it.” 

She twisted the shirt in her hands while she looked down at the material. 

“But it wouldn’t happen until after I fuck you so you have nothing to worry about for now. I just wanted you to know the severity of that particular kink.” 

“How do we warm up to that?” 

Terry laughed, not at her, but he understood the joke. “We don’t, however, exploring your kinks helps me create the scene for you. I’ll do what you like after I do what I want.” 

Nami nodded, unsure of what to say. She needed to think about it. 

“Can I ask you something,’ she inquired. 

“Of course,’ he replied, his hand sliding up her thigh and beneath the shirt. “Anything you want.” 

“You….earlier, there was a difference,’ she fumbled over her words, trying to string them together so they made sense. “I called you Daddy but you didn’t correct me. Or punish me for it.” 

“In the heat of things I can forget to pace myself and I slip into a different head space.” 

“Was it my fault?” She asked. 

Terry’s eyes shot up to hers and he leaned forward, almost in her lap. She kept her hands tightly fisted in the shirt. 

“No, you did everything right.” He sighed. 

Nami waited for him to speak again, though she let out a sigh of content when he kissed her. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him taste her as if he hadn’t. Her hands twitched and she huffed. So badly she wanted to hold his face, his shoulders, scratch up his back, marvel at the way his toned stomach rippled beneath her fingers and feel the heaviness of his dick in her hands. 

She was snatched from her thoughts as his hand pushed between her legs, the heat inviting his fingers back into her cove, just as wet as it had been before. 

“What are you thinking about that made you so wet, Nami?” He teased, pushing her to lie back on the couch. 

He unfolded her legs, pushed her arms up and settled between her thighs. 

“I really want to touch you.” She says, eyes glossy as he played with her pussy. Their talk became more sensual as he pushed them into her cunt, stroking a fire that was warming her belly. 

“I know.” He kissed her neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as she arched into his fingers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” He admitted. “You taste so fucking good, baby.” 

He crawled to the floor, kneeling beside her before pulling her legs to either side of his head. He brought her body down, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he held her still. He kissed her clit, looking up at her as she held onto the back of the couch. 

“Mi nuh need yuh touchin mi rite now.” 

Terry whispered patois to her pussy, his lips licking up her slick as she dug her nails into the back of the couch. There it was again, Nami thought, something gentle about how he spoke to her, the patois rolling across her ears as she moaned. She tried to keep still, to watch him devour her, but her body betrayed her and she rocked her hips back and forth against his mouth again. 

She was still sensitive from earlier and the need to push his head away while pulling him closer at the same time was high. His tongue was flat as it pressed against her cunt and she could almost feel his damn tastebuds flaring up as they became soaked in her mess. 

“Sweet little pussy,’ he hummed. “Mi a guh fuck yuh senseless.” 

taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem

@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @slutsareteacherstoo

{ if you wanted to be on this taglist and I have not added you yet please let me know! I feel like I'm forgetting people and I don't want to do that! }

[thatoneweirdgirl17]

Okay I came up with this at work because I was left alone with my thoughts for 10 hrs.

Imagine a feyd x single mom reader except the baby is Paul’s. Reader used to be a servant in caladan and eventually her and Paul messed around, she approached lady Jessica in confidence for help but instead got sold off because Paul getting a servant girl pregnant was not part of her plan. Later feyd kinda saves reader from the a-hole who bought her but in reality he was there to kill the guy for betraying the baron and saw reader and decided he wanted her. He finds out she’s already pregnant but instead of killing her of getting rid of her he kinda hides her away so he can have his own secret lil family (maybe as a way to cope with the childhood that was stolen from him). Feyd has his harpies protect and hide her and the baby and over time the girls bond (baby is having the worlds most protective and feral aunties). Eventually reader tell feyd who the baby’s dad is and explains how she ended up at the a-holes house. Feyd finds the situation hilarious but still decides to protect reader and raise the baby as his own (not really out of love but more as a jab at Paul like haha I have your toys but they do eventually grow to care about each other, maybe not love but definitely a codependency). When the baby is born he immediately becomes attached to her (I must protect this tiny creature) which is a new emotion to him.For a couple of years baby girl grows up seeing feyd as her dad. Eventually the events of dune happen and right before Paul is about to stab him, feyd says something along the lines “ go ahead and kill me in front of your daughter”. Paul is understandingly confused until a lil 4-5 year old comes running out to feyd screaming daddy and using the voice to make Paul back off. Everyone can instantly see who her biological father is since she has his hair, eyes and is able to use the voice. Feyd would definitely have a shit eating grin when Paul learns that his mother is the reason his daughter grew up without him. Paul tries to approach her but she turns her head and says to feyd “daddy I wanna go home” and Paul’s heart just breaks at the realization that he lost his daughter before he even knew about her. Paul can’t kill Feyd since he would loose his daughter even more and they basically create a custody agreement where Paul can come and visit her every month.

Please if someone turns this into a fic tag me so I can read🙏

Edit: I am planning on writing this out but give me some time since it will be my first fanfic since high school

@dreamlandcreations @triluvial @austinbutlerslovers @sansaorgana @purejasmine @sebastianswallows

Update

I finally had time to start writing this and although it’s my first fic I’m really proud of it. I ended up making a second account with the intent to only post fics there to make things easier for myself. If you’re interested in reading I’ll add a link under this.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, small amount of angst, some hurt/comfort. also kinda problematic paige but i get her

a/n - guess who’s endo cramps are killing her!! that’s right, me! fml. as usual this is unedited but i’ll come back to edit later! also, i changed paige’s step-dad’s name from tim to dean because i remembered that azzi’s dad is named tim and i felt like that would be confusing lol. also, thank you so much for all the fic recs i got! i’m so excited to start working on them :3

They’re ten minutes into the thirty-minute car ride and nobody has said a word. Country music is playing quietly over the radio, and Dean and Amy keep glancing at each other. But the awkward silence is deadly.

Nobody spoke earlier, either. After Paige dropped the bomb. It was silent for a good minute before Dean had coughed loudly and turned back to the car, getting wordlessly into the driver’s seat. Amy stared at them for another minute or so, giving them no clue as to what was going on in her head other than her ears, which rapidly turned bright red. Finally, she’d shook her head and said, “We will talk about this when we get home,” before following her husband into the car.

As soon as they were both out of hearing range, Paige had sagged, and Azzi’d looked over at her, concerned. Usually, she’d lay a hand on her arm but she wasn’t sure if Paige wanted to be touched, especially by her, so instead she’d said, “Remember, we can leave anytime.”

Paige had nodded stiffly. And then, without looking at Azzi, she’d gotten into the car as well, leaving the door open for Azzi to follow suit.

And now they’re on the road, Paige and Azzi sitting in the back seat like two little kids in trouble. Azzi wants to go on her phone to avoid the awkwardness but her parents raised her to be polite, no matter the circumstances, so here she sits, stiff and awkward while she rides in this car that smells new and fancy and she hates it.

Chancing a glance over, Azzi sees that Paige is still staring out the window, the same thing she’s been doing the whole car ride, and Azzi hates that, too, because Paige only ever gets quiet when she’s bone-tired or truly upset. And Paige got a pretty good nap on the plane.

Based off the way she acted to Azzi’s words before they got on the road, Azzi’s pretty sure she’s doing that thing where she shuts people out because she’s mad or on the verge of tears or thinking too hard. And when she does this she can get mean, because she’s trying to protect herself, and it comes out all wrong.

She’s always done this, been reluctant to open up about the hard stuff, shut out the people who care about her. She and Azzi have talked about it a lot. She once admitted that Azzi was the first person to get her to actually talk about her feelings. But despite Azzi’s way with Paige, and despite the fact that they just get each other in a way no one else ever has, they still have their flaws. Azzi still doesn’t always know the right thing to say. And Paige still gets mean.

This fact keeps Azzi glued to her seat, thinking sidling closer and trying to comfort her best friend would only end badly. Azzi acts like she has a tough skin but often, the things Paige says when she gets like this cut deep, and it ends with both of them hurt. She’s scared to add a fight between the two of them onto whatever will surely go on with Paige and her parents later. So she stays put, even though every bone in her body is telling her to make Paige better.

Azzi has only managed this for maybe five minutes when she glances over again and notices that this time, Paige’s hand is splayed over the middle seat, fingers tapping anxiously, almost like she’s subconsciously reaching over. And that sight alone is enough to get Azzi sliding over, moving Paige’s hand so she doesn’t sit on it. Dean looks at her through the rearview, but Azzi pretends not to notice.

Paige doesn’t look over when Azzi settles in beside her. But she does reach blindly for her hand before taking it and placing it in her own lap, playing with the fingers nervously. Azzi breathes in relief. Paige hasn’t rejected her outright—she can’t be too upset. At least not yet.

They sit like that for the remainder of the ride.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige gives Azzi’s hand a squeeze before subtly shaking herself out and exiting the car. Azzi follows, afraid to be alone with Paige’s parents for even a second.

Before Paige can close the door, Amy calls, “Bring your bags into your room, Paige. And when you’re done come down and talk to us in the kitchen.” There’s a weighted pause. “Alone.”

Paige doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut. Azzi winces.

Azzi doesn’t say anything while Paige opens the trunk, or when she starts aggressively pulling their things out, or even when she slams the trunk shut. No, Azzi keeps her mouth shut, wanting to allow her best friend to seethe in peace, but when Paige slams into her shoulder when she passes her, Azzi doesn’t want to let it slide. “Ow! Paige, what the fuck?”

“Get your bags,” Paige responds gruffly.

Okay, so it’s gonna be one of those times. Perfect.

Despite not wanting to, Azzi does as she’s told, gathering her bags and following Paige to the front porch. She tries not to think about how usually Paige would’ve carried her things for her.

Paige opens the door without a word and they walk inside. The house is nice, open, smells of cedarwood. Paige doesn’t give Azzi a chance to look around, though, instead walking briskly to the staircase, lugging her shit upstairs with impressive strength, and Azzi thanks God she’s in such good shape because she’s practically jogging by the time they arrive at a room at the end of the hall.

“Paige—“ Azzi starts to stay, but Paige cuts her off by throwing her own backpack off her shoulder and dropping her suitcases, as if she’s trying her hardest to make as much a ruckus as possible.

Azzi places her things much more nicely on her usual side of the bed, eyeing Paige cautiously the entire time. It’s the only reason she’s able to catch her before she leaves, anticipating her movements just like she does on the court and darting between her best friend and the door, blocking her.

For the first time in nearly an hour, Paige looks her in the eye, and there’s fire there. “Move, Azzi.”

“No.”

“God,” Paige sighs, “seriously, don’t piss me off. Get outta my way.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi repeats, keeping her feet planted.

Paige stares at her and then shakes her head. “Why are you being so fuckin’ annoying?”

“Don’t,” Azzi says, trying to stop her before she gets too fired up, but it’s already started.

“No, Azzi, you don’t,” Paige snaps. “I knew you were gonna get like this, do your fuckin’ peace and love shit that you think will solve everyone’s fucking problems.”

Azzi swallows hard. It’s been years since Paige went on a rampage like this, and she opens her mouth to stop her, but is quickly interrupted.

“It doesn’t solve anything, dawg. It actually makes shit worse, because it’s so motherfucking annoying having you acting like everything’s fine when you don’t even know.” Paige shakes her head, taking a step towards her. “And that’s the thing, is you really don’t know but you wanna pretend like you do. You don’t know what it’s like to have your mom fuckin’ leave you for some fuckass guy, for her to have new kids outta state and raise them to be hateful just like her. Just like him.”

At this point, Azzi has tears in her eyes, and she attempts desperately to swallow them down. “Did you forget that my dad fucking left me when I was a baby? I’ve never even fucking talked to him, Paige. He doesn’t want shit to do with me.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” Paige sends her a withering glare, so different from the way she usually looks at Azzi. “You have Tim. You have your mom and your brothers and they all love you so fucking much.”

“You have your dad!” Azzi responds, throwing her hands in the air. “You have Drew, you have Alora!” A tear escapes, against her will, and she wipes it furiously away. “You have me, Paige,” she says, more quietly now. “I love you so fucking much. So you don’t get to take this shit out on me and say mean things to hurt my feelings. That’s not—it’s not fair.”

As soon as she sees the tears welling in Azzi’s eyes, Paige softens, her shoulders slumping, eyes turning on her with guilt rather than venom. “Az, don’t cry.”

For some reason, this makes Azzi more mad, and she turns away to face the door, always having hated crying in front of others. “Well if you say mean shit to me, I’m gonna cry, Paige,” she mumbles, though there’s not much fire to her weak, shaky tone.

“Hey, no, you’re right,” Paige reaches for Azzi’s shoulder, trying to turn her around, but the tears have started now and they’re not going to stop anytime soon so Azzi stays turned firmly away. “Azzi, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ Paige cuts herself off on a sigh. Her hand falls off Azzi’s shoulder, and for a second Azzi thinks she’s going to walk away, but then a pair of arms wrap tenderly around her waist and Paige’s chin is wresting on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—I was wrong for that, I shouldnt’ve said any of that shit.” When Azzi doesn’t respond, instead burying her face in her hands to try and hide what she’s sure is an ugly cry, Paige squeezes her tighter. “Azzi, please don’t cry, I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry, for real. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so scared about my parents and I took it out on you, I fucked up.”

Azzi nods into her hands, taking a deep breath to try and stop the embarrassing flow of emotion. “I know, Paige,” she tries, but it comes out sort of as a whimper and this only makes Paige circle around to stand in front of her, full-on hugging her now, burying her face in her neck and rubbing her back soothingly.

They’re silent for another moment before Paige says, “I’m serious, Az. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Azzi knows this, fundamentally, but there’s still a part of her that sort of cracked at hearing her best friend tell her that she was annoying, that her efforts to help always fall flat. “You shouldn’t have said it, then,” she stutters, letting Paige hold her close even as her face doesn’t come out of its hiding spot.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have. You’re the only person who can ever make me feel better and I—fuck. Azzi, I’m sorry, I can’t believe—I never wanna hurt you.” Paige lifts her head out of her neck to nuzzle into Azzi’s hair, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind her ear. “Never wanna make you cry.” She plants another kiss there, and Azzi’s breath hitches. From the crying or from something else, she doesn’t know.

Sighing shakily, Azzi finally pulls her head out of her hands to look up at Paige, placing her hands at her chest almost as if she’s about to push her away. She’s sure her mascara is ruined by now but she can’t bring herself to care too much. “It really hurt when you shoved me outside, too.”

A pained expression flits over Paige’s face, and she nods, looking almost sick. “Fuck. I’m—I’m sorry, Azzi. I’m so sorry. Is your arm okay? Does it still hurt?”

Azzi can’t take the guilty look on Paige’s face and shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem to relieve much of anything.

Breathing deeply, Paige closes her eyes and then leans her forehead against Azzi’s, bringing her hands up from her waist to stroke over her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, and Azzi’s knows that the nickname wasn’t a slip-up this time, wasn’t just a habit from their pretending. “I’m really fuckin’ sorry.”

And with that, Azzi isn’t mad anymore. Her feelings are still hurt and the things Paige said are still going to replay in her head for quite some time, but at least for now, Azzi just can’t be mad. Because Paige is going through something she could never imagine going through.

“I’m sorry, too,” Azzi breathes, and Paige rears back, but before she can protest, Azzi says, “about your parents. About this whole…situation.” She looks down at her hands on Paige’s chest, and, deciding she won’t be needing to push her away anymore, she slides them up to her shoulders. “It’s shitty and you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position.” She shrugs, swallowing back the last couple tears that threaten to fall, trying to regain at least some of her composure. “I’m going to be here for you, okay? I always am.”

Paige nods. “I know you will.”

“And that means,” Azzi goes on, “you can’t do this again. You can’t take it out on me. You can’t push me away. Because that makes it really fucking hard for me to help you, and I want to help you.”

Paige nods again, more solemnly this time, moving her hands back to circle her waist. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and I’m so sorry for—“

Azzi holds a hand up to Paige’s lips, effectively shutting her up. “Okay, stop. I accept your apology, I promise. Just, show me you’re sorry and don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige says. “‘Course.”

“Good.” Breathing mostly even now, Azzi pulls Paige in for another hug.

With a heavy sigh, Paige hugs her back. “We’re in it together, hm? From now on, together.”

Azzi rests her cheek on Paige’s shoulder, the weight of her arms around her, the feeling of her skin and bones, so familiar. “Yeah. Together.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look at her, and when Azzi reciprocates, she’s uneasy to find that Paige is giving her that same new look. The perplexed, maybe enthralled?, almost worried look that has taken over her face more often than can be explained ever since the first time after their kiss. Azzi really wants to work out what it means.

But, as always, Paige corrects herself and it’s gone as fast as it arrived. “We’re good?”

Azzi nods, smiling softly despite herself. “Yeah, P. We’re good.”

—————————————

Paige has been downstairs with her parents for nearly an hour.

From what Azzi can hear from her spot at the top of the stairs, it doesn’t sound to be going too well. The three of them keep going from yelling to whisper-yelling to yelling again, and Azzi swears Amy has cried like five times at this point.

When Azzi hears Dean say, “We just don’t allow sinners in this house, Paige,” and Paige snap back, “Do not use God against me right now!” Azzi figures it might be time to intervene.

Trying to come up with something quickly, she pulls out her phone and dials Paige’s number. She hears Paige’s phone ring downstairs, and the three of them go quiet before Paige says, “Just—one second,” and then there’s a click on the other line and she’s answering. “Um, hi?”

“Pretend I’m your dad,” Azzi says, hoping she’s not on speaker.

“What?”

“Just pretend I’m your dad, Paige. Seriously.”

“Uh, okay.” The line gets a little muffled and Paige says, “It’s dad.” Azzi can hear both Amy and Dean let out audible groans downstairs.

“Okay, now tell them that I—your dad—am offering to fly you home.”

“I…wha—“ Azzi can tell Paige wants to argue but can’t with her parents right in front of her, so instead she sighs and the line goes muffled again. “He’s, um, he’s offering to fly me home.”

Azzi only has a second to hope and pray that Amy shares Paige’s competitive nature before Amy is saying, “What? You told him about this?”

“No,” Paige answers, “he just knows how you’re like now. And he wants Azzi and I to have a good summer, not a shitty one with shitty people.”

“If you want to go back to your dad’s, go,” Dean says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. Maybe this won’t work.

But then, bless her evil, horrible soul, Amy is stepping in. “No. Absolutely not. I will never hear the end of it if we send you to your father after inviting you over. We just…” Amy sighs, and Azzi thinks she can hear her start crying again. “We want what’s best for you, Paige.”

It’s silent for a moment. And then, “Let me be happy, Mom. Let me see my siblings. Let me and my girlfriend have a good trip with y’all.”

Dean interjects. “We really don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

“I don’t care,” Paige replies viciously. “I love Azzi. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fuckin’ girl. I…” Paige pauses, quite abruptly, and Azzi wonders if something happened. But then she hears a heavy inhalation and a quiet, “I love her, Mom.”

Azzi knows it’s for the act, but she can’t help the way her stomach somersaults, hearing the words she’s always wished Paige would say.

“And it doesn’t matter what you think of it,” Paige continues. “I’m happy. My faith is strong. And what goes on between me and God isn’t your fucking business.”

“Language,” Amy says immediately. But then it’s silent for another weighted moment and Azzi can imagine Amy and Dean sharing that knowing, judgmental look of theirs. Her heart races while she waits for a consensus, and she’s sure it’s 100 times worse for Paige. But after a few moments, Amy says, “Tell your father that you’re staying here with us. Your siblings will be home tomorrow morning. The four of us adults have a reservation at a restaurant tonight, and we’re all going to go.”

“Mom—“

“We will try,” Amy sighs. “Azzi’s a nice girl. We will—we’ll try.” There’s something tired in her voice when she says, “Right, Dean?”

No answer. But Azzi can imagine him nodding gruffly, and a moment later, with no more words from any of them, Paige appears at the bottom of the stairs. She startles a little when she sees Azzi sitting there at the top.

“Hi,” Azzi says sheepishly, finally disconnecting their call. “I was eavesdropping.”

Paige stares at her, and then starts climbing the stairs, a small smile overtaking their face. “Thanks for saving me.”

“I told you I would,” Azzi replies, waiting for Paige at the top. “So. Dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Paige gets to the second-top step and stays there, so she’s just a little shorter than Azzi.

“Dinner as a fake lesbian couple with your homophobic parents,” Azzi clarifies, and Paige laughs nervously.

“Uh-huh,” she responds. “I think we needa nap before that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Azzi agrees, pulling Paige up to stand with her. “That is an amazing idea.”

——————————————

Azzi is rudely awoken to none other than an old Tyler, The Creator song blasting through the tinny speakers of Paige’s phone. Azzi groans, and she blindly reaches out for Paige to turn the damn thing off, but her hands only find cold bedsheets. Annoyed, Azzi cracks her eyes open and tries desperately to find Paige’s phone, realizing in the process that Paige’s side of the bed is cold. Strange, considering they still have two hours until dinner.

Finally, after probably thirty seconds of this stupid song playing over and over again, Azzi finds the phone tangled up in the bedsheets and slams the off button. It’s sort of pointless, though, because now she’s very much awake and will not be going back to bed.

She sits up in Paige’s bed, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. The sun is shining through the curtains, reflecting off the mirror above the vanity and showcasing the off-white walls, the pink door to the adjoining bathroom—which Azzi now realizes is in use, the sound of the shower muffled through the door. She hadn’t noticed before because Paige isn’t awfully singing to some Mariah Carey song. Other than the water, it’s dead quiet in there. She must be nervous.

Fiddling with the pink sheets, Azzi feels nervous, too. Usually, merely being in Paige’s space comforts her, but this room—it doesn’t feel like Paige. It doesn’t smell like her, and it’s too pink. There’s no purple at all, actually. And the vanity—Paige has never known how to do much else other than mascara. In high school, she needed Azzi to tell her what concealer was for, and to teach her how to curl her lashes. She certainly wouldn’t have use for an entire vanity dedicated to makeup. The walls are also decorated with cringy, sort of Bible-thumping quotes and paintings of flowers. There’s not a single basketball poster.

No, this room isn’t Paige at all and Azzi feels an ache in her heart, thinking about how out-of-place she must have felt whenever she came to visit as a kid. How out-of-place she must feel now.

Without Paige to talk to, and without her room to comfort her, Azzi settles for laying on Paige’s side of the bed, burying her face in the blankets, and there she is—vanilla, like her hair products, and lavender, like the lotion she wears and the linen spray she uses, because it calms her down.

Azzi thinks she just might fall back asleep, enveloped in Paige’s scent, but then the door to the bathroom opens and steam billows out just before Paige does, wrapped in a towel, hair wet down her shoulders. Azzi only has a second to ogle the water drops adorning Paige’s collarbones before she’s spotted, and Paige gives her a curious look. “You still sleep? I left my phone here so the alarm would wake you up.”

“Yeah, no, it did,” Azzi says, sitting up quickly, before she looks like a weirdo snuggling up in Paige’s spot. “Just tryin’ to hype myself up for dinner.”

Paige gives her a commiserating look. “Me too. I’m shitting my pants, for real.”

“That why you couldn’t sleep?” Azzi asks, stretching out her back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Paige hums, bending down to rifle around in her suitcase. “I’on even know what to wear. Apparently it’s some fancy restaurant but I’m not wearing a fucking dress.”

Azzi laughs at that, lifting her hands when Paige shoots a glare over her shoulder. “I’m serious, dawg! And it’s not like I brought a suit or nothing.”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Azzi says, standing up. “Just wear jeans and tuck a t-shirt or something. You’ll look cute no matter what.”

Paige straights up and gives her a cocky grin. “You think all that?”

“Chill, P,” Azzi rolls her eyes, shoving Paige’s shoulder a little.

“What were you doing on my side of the bed, anyway?” Paige asks, and Azzi can’t help the way she freezes. She’d thought Paige hadn’t noticed.

Trying to cover her reaction, she shrugs casually. “I didn’t know you owned the right side of the bed.”

“Nah, we’ve always had our sides,” Paige shakes her head, taking a step closer. “Why was you all cuddled up in mine?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Azzi says, trying for sarcastic but she can’t even really make eye contact, “maybe I rolled over or something.”

“Please. You don’t move in your sleep.”

“Maybe I do. You don’t know.”

“I think I’ve slept with you more often than I’ve slept alone,” Paige scoffs, taking a step even closer so that they’re practically chest-to-chest. “I know damn well.”

“Okay, seriously,” Azzi says, taking a small step back and stumbling when her thighs hit the bed, “go get dressed, you weirdo.”

“Mm,” Paige says, pretending to think about it. But before Azzi can move away, she grabs her waist and they both fall onto the bed while Paige starts to tickle her like crazy.

“Paige!” Azzi screams, laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. “Get—off, oh my God!”

Paige is laughing right along with her, and it’s a miracle her towel hasn’t dropped yet. “Tell me the truth!”

“What the…” Azzi giggles and squeals when Paige goes for her armpit, “fuck!”

“I won’t stop ‘till you admit it!”

“Okay, fuck, okay!” Azzi pushes Paige off her, and Paige lets up just enough for her to gasp and say, “It smelled like you, okay? The sheets, they…” Paige has stopped completely now, staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her stupid face, “they smell like you.”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, “and you missed me so much while I was in the shower that you needed to smell my sheets?” She jabs her one more time in the ribs, making Azzi shriek, before rolling off her. “You lil creep.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Azzi insists, even though that’s exactly what it was like. “Now, seriously, go get dressed. You got me all wet.”

What Azzi means by that, of course, is that Paige’s damp towel and sopping hair had transferred to Azzi’s own clothes and hair. But Paige can’t be normal about anything, so she looks over and grins slyly.

“Don’t,” Azzi sighs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Paige says, sitting up in bed and pulling Azzi up with her. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. I know I make a lotta girls wet.”

“Stop being weird,” Azzi says, as Paige bends down once again to pull an outfit from her suitcase.

She begins walking back to the bathroom. “I’m not the one who gets turned on by tickling,” Paige calls over her shoulder. Just before she closes the bathroom door behind her, she says, “Don’t worry, we can take care of you after dinner, mama,” and winks at her.

Azzi’s shoe hits the door just as it clicks shut.

—————————————

They drive to the restaurant in silence.

It’s similar to their car ride from the airport, though it is a little less tense than before. Paige isn’t fidgeting too much beside her and her parents aren’t giving each other looks the entire time. That’s gotta be a good sign.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Amy and Dean start chatting idly, Paige and Azzi trailing behind when they walk inside the fancy building and give the hostess their reservation.

It’s only when they’re finally seated that they are addressed.

“So, girls,” Amy says, her voice all forced cheerfulness, “what looks good?”

“I dunno,” Paige mumbles, and Azzi kicks her under the table before saying, “Have you guys ever been here before?”

Amy looks a little startled at Azzi’s voice, but she recovers quickly, looking over at Dean with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah, we come here sometimes.”

Azzi smiles politely. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Um,” Amy says, and then she sort of jerks and Dean winces, and Azzi’s sure Amy has also just kicked him under the table.

Apparently well-trained, he speaks immediately. “We love the spinach ricotta.”

Azzi hums, then nudges Paige. “That sounds good, right?”

“Uh…” Paige looks like she wants to be difficult, but then she sees the warning stare Azzi is giving her and straightens up a little, “yeah, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wanna share?”

Paige sighs, but luckily it’s barely audible. “Yeah, sure. Let’s share.”

Azzi leaves herself out of the conversation after that, letting Paige answer her parents’ conversation starters. When the waitress comes to take their orders, Paige gets a glass of wine for the both of them. Neither of them really like wine, but it seems classy enough and it might take the edge off just enough that they can actually get through the night unscathed.

It’s not until their dinner arrives that Azzi is addressed again.

“So, Azzi,” Dean says, out of nowhere, “How’s the knee?”

Azzi’s hand goes subconsciously to her surgery scars. “Doing better. PT’s been going good.”

“Good, good.” He leans back in his seat, and Azzi senses trouble. Something about the way Paige protectively rests her arm across the back of Azzi’s seat makes her think she senses it, too.

“You get injured a lot, huh?” He asks.

Azzi sort of hates the way her face gets hot, hoping it doesn’t show up on her brown skin. “I’ve torn my ACL twice, yeah.”

“And your meniscus, right?” he prods.

Without really noticing it, Azzi looks over to Paige, and that’s apparently all Paige needs to jump in. “Hey, let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?” Dean asks, scoffing. Amy is looking between the three of them nervously. “It’s hard not to talk about. Azzi, you don’t even play basketball at this point.”

“Um,” Azzi replies, her instincts telling her to get hot-headed but with the way Paige is buzzing beside her, she’s gonna need to keep her cool.

“What the hell?” Paige says, her hand going from the chair to Azzi’s shoulder. She looks at Amy. “Mom, you said this wouldn’t happen.”

“Your father is just asking a few questions—“

“He’s not my fucking dad!” Paige exclaims, and Azzi jerks as she’s pulled into Paige’s side. “I already have a dad! He raised me, he loves me, Mom, and he’d never say this shit about Azzi.” Angrily, Paige stands up, tossing a few bills onto the counter and helping Azzi to stand beside her.

“Sweetheart,” Amy says, reaching limply for her daughter while Dean sits beside her looking far too smug. “Paige, where are you going? We’re your ride.”

“We’ll Uber,” Paige responds, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. “I’m not gonna make her sit through your bullshit because you don’t know how to act like a decent fucking human being.”

“He was just asking—,” Any starts, sounding exasperated, but Paige cuts her off.

“You know what he was doing.” She glares at Dean, who shakes his head, smirking. “We’ll go back to the house,” she sneers. “But if this doesn’t change by tomorrow we’re leaving.”

And with that, she takes Azzi hands and leads them both out into the night.

—————————————

Paige keeps it together until they get to the house.

As soon as they’re stepping through the door, she turns away from Azzi and leans down to untie her shoes. Azzi does the same, but she doesn’t miss the sniffling sounds coming from her best friend.

Paige refuses to look at her when they start heading upstairs, and she tries to make a beeline for the bathroom once they close her bedroom door shut behind them. But Azzi stops her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “P?”

Another sniffle. And then a quick wipe at her face before she’s turning around, trying to look nonchalant but her eyes are red and her lip is trembling. “Yeah?”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, and Paige crumbles, hands coming up to her face as she starts crying.

Azzi steps forward to hug her, pulling her down to hide in her chest. “I’m sorry, P. I’m so sorry, this—this sucks.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige replies, voice all small and muffled in a way that makes Azzi’s heart hurt. “I thought they were gonna try…I wouldn’t have taken you out with them if I knew…”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Azzi responds, running a hand through Paige’s hair. “I didn’t mind, really. I’ve heard worse.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Paige just cries harder. “Fuck, Az, you shouldn’t have to do this.” She lifts her head up to look at her, and Azzi absently wipes her face. “This sucks. It’s the first week of summer and I—I was shitty to you and now my parents, and I—“

“Paige,” Azzi says sternly. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t handle it. I can handle it. It’s you that I’m worried about.”

Paige nods, sniffling again. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, P,” Azzi says, and Paige winces, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I’m okay,” Paige insists. “Really. As long as we do this together, I’m okay.”

She straightens up like she’s steeling herself, and Azzi thinks maybe she should do the same.

This is only the first day of their two-week stay.

It’s going to be a long trip.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa