#really wanted to write a bit of their interaction and smooth over some of the minor bits of minsc's bg3 intro that bothered me

[miinxiee]

envy, darling °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you bond with a familiarly charming npc on a heist adventure, much to jax’s dismay.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: unspecified gender, established relationshipa bit of angst if you squint, maybe ooc im very sleep deprived writing this

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

you knew something was off the second jax didn’t make a joke.

the new adventure seemed normal enough— bright lights, disjointed architecture, some theme caine would over explain and then abandon halfway through. this one was simply named “THE HEIST”, and the premise was classic: sneak into a vault, collect shiny nonsense, and boom, mission accomplished.

nothing new.

well, except for the new guy.

caine poofed him into existence with fanfare: tall, fox-faced, a too-wide grin stitched onto a too-smooth voice. he was dressed like a magician who got lost on the way to a poker tournament. he seemed too familiar.

“slick!” caine declared. “your infiltration expert-slash-roguish wildcard-slash-totally-not-misleading-at-all sidekick!”

“pleasure,” slick said, flicking his coat with flair.

you weren’t impressed. you weren’t annoyed either.

zooble groaned.

ragatha offered a polite smile and wave.

jax? nothing.

not even a “wow, this loser’s trying way too hard” or a smirk.

he stood beside you, silent, one brow slightly raised, and said absolutely nothing.

something seemed a little off about his whole demeanor, but you dismissed it. you really didn’t think much of it.

at first.

the group was split up, and you were paired with slick.

jax didn’t object — just turned and walked off when caine announced it. no biting comment. no sarcastic farewell. just a weirdly quick exit.

you blinked after him. then hesitantly followed slick down the corridor.

your task was to apparently disarm the alarms. slick was agile, cocky, kind of charming in that ‘i’ve never been beaten and it shows’ sort of way. you rolled your eyes more than once, but he kept the pace light. easy to talk to. clever in a way that didn’t feel exhausting. he was nice, even if he was temporary.

“you’ve got good instincts,” he said, crouching beside you as you both inspected a puzzle lock. “you’re either very smart or very lucky.”

“little bit of both.” you said shortly.

“modest. i like it.”

you snorted. “well aren’t you sweet.”

“not as sweet as you.” corny sure, so much so that it pulled a small laugh out of you.

he jokingly winked. you shook your head and rolled your eyes yet again. how cliché.

you found that slick was a likable guy after more friendly banter, but there was one thing that stuck you. besides appearances, he was exactly like jax. almost.

you didn’t want to say he was nicer, just less.. harsh. he was nice sure, you just felt there was just something missing from your interactions. whatever, you were probably just looking too much into it.

you were laughing.

slick said something about the guard being built like a toaster with legs. dumb. harmless, even. but funny

at the sound of your sweet laughter, jax looked over his shoulder at you with a grin that quickly dissipated as his gaze trailed to slick.

and you swear something in his whole posture changed.

not dramatic— no twitchy ears or narrowed eyes. just… quieter. more alert.

like he was deciding if he wanted to blow something up.

“oh, look,” he said as you approached him, voice flat. “you made a friend, y’gonna take him out for dinner later?”

you blinked. “we’re just doing the ad-”

“sure,” he said. “didn’t know flirting was part of the strategy.”

“flirting? what are you talking about jax?” you were genuinely confused.

slick gave a polite, clueless smile. “is there an issue?”

“not at all,” jax said, tilting his head. “i just think it’s cute how fast some people lower their standards.”

you raised an eyebrow. “jax.”

“what?” he said innocently. “i mean come on! he’s just like me, but without the edge. or the originality. or the good looks.”

so jax noticed it too. maybe you weren’t overthinking it.

slick said nothing, just glanced your way with a look that said is he always like this?

you didn’t answer.

because... you had never seen jax so bitter towards an npc before.

the next twenty minutes were exhausting.

jax started triggering puzzles out of order. tripping traps for fun. talking over ragatha so much to the point where she looked like she wanted to pull the yarn out of her head. ‘accidentally’ tossing an important puzzle piece down a vent.

he laughed at his own antics louder than usual, but it was shallow. it lacked enjoyment. you were starting to get the sense that he wasn’t actually having fun.

after slick cracked the final lock, you were the one who opened the vault.

adventure all done. mission accomplished.

caine cheered. confetti exploded. a new useless prize was announced.

you turned to slick, out of habit, to offer a high-five or a ‘hey, nice job’ but jax was already between you.

“wow,” he said, smiling way too wide. “really earned that fake trophy, huh?”

you narrowed your eyes. “you good?”

“peachy,” he said simply, and dragged you off to the portal.

you shot one last look over your shoulder at slick, waving cheerily at you. he was back into background npc status like most one-off characters did.

as you stumbled out of the portal, you turned back toward the hall — where jax had disappeared.

you decided to leave him alone for the time being, but after nagging thoughts and an aching conscience, you later found him in his room sitting on the edge of his bed.

his back was to you, hunched down and feet swinging ever so slightly.

he didn’t turn around when you sat down beside him.

“something on your mind?” you asked.

“nope.”

“oh okay,” you shrugged, before you narrowed your eyes at him, “liar.”

you both sat in silence.

then he muttered, “you laughed at his jokes.”

you raised your eyebrows. “seriously?”

he didn’t look at you. “i’m just saying. they weren’t even good.”

you tilted your head. “you’re mad i laughed at him?”

“i’m not mad,” he said too quickly.

“you’re mad-adjacent.”

“i just think it’s weird.”

“what is?”

“that you laughed,” he said. “like, full-on laughed. you don’t even laugh at me that much.”

“you make me laugh all time time jax! just not when you’re being an ass, and you’re an ass a lot jax, you know that,” you sighed.

“still,” he said. “you just laughed at anything he said, and he was practically all over you.”

“first of all, he was not all over me, and second, you’re really mad because i laughed at somebody else?”

“i’m not—” he started, then stopped. “you know what? yeah. maybe i am.”

you paused.

“you sound jealous.”

he didn’t say anything.

you leaned a little closer. “you are jealous.”

“i’m annoyed.”

“because someone else was around for two seconds and i got along with him?”

he finally turned toward you. his face lacked his usual smile.

“because he reminded me of me,” jax said quietly. “and.. i dunno i just- i felt so replaceable.”

you stared at him, your face twisting painfully. he wasn’t this expressive for just no reason, and he definitely wasn’t this vocal about his feelings with anybody else. you didn’t think he’d get so bothered by this.

jax crossed his arms, looking away with a regretful expression, like he had said too much or something.

“i wasn’t trying to make you feel like that jax. there’s no point in being rude to somebody who isn’t even real though, you have to understand that. he was just part of the adventure.” you softened. just a bit. he didn’t respond right away.

“you know if i really wanted a knock off version of you,” you said softly, “i wouldn’t even be here right now.”

jax just looked at you. he couldn’t help but smile.

“of course you like me more, i was always the better competition.”

you bumped his shoulder lightly. “competition huh? listen, promise me next time we get split up you won’t like.. implode or something.”

“not making promises.”

“figured. wanna hang out for a little bit?” you stood and held out a hand.

he looked at your hand before taking it and slinging you over his shoulder, your laughs echoing down the hallway.

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira rubs a cloth from her pack slowly along the sleek blade of one of her scimitars and examines its edge with an appraising eye. For a little while she pretends to ignore the small shape creeping around the edge of the fire towards her, but eventually Boo is sitting almost at her knee and she gives the hamster a sidelong glance.

"What is it then, small one?" she says dryly, the pale green pulse of an animal speech spell flaring around her body.

Boo perches up on his back legs and peers up at her with that beady, unreadable stare. Jaheira looks back thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow.

She reflects, not for the first time, that for all that Minsc often seems mad, it is hard to ignore that there is something about the little beast that is more than bestial. The little dark eyes shine with intelligence, and he is the only creature she has ever attempted to speak to with aid of magic that has deliberately not deigned to speak back.

And it is no different today. Boo ignores the spell and simply squeaks once, loudly, then turns and looks back across the fire towards the bedrolls of the camp. Jaheira follows his gaze, and has to resist the urge to smile. Minsc is peering around the edge of one of the tents with an air of stealth that would be more appropriate if he were about half the size that he is.

She has not spoken to him since their argument when they first arrived back from the sewers, and though Boo offers no words, the message is clear. You have grieved him. Will you not clear the air?

"He does not need to hide," she tells Boo softly. "You may tell him so."

Boo squeaks again and scurries off into the shadows.

She returns to the care of her weapons and does not look up when she hears the Rashemaar's heavy footfalls at her side.

"May Minsc sit?" he rumbles.

She smiles slightly. "You feel you must ask permission?"

He drops down at her side and stares into the slowly dying flames. A silence stretches for a few moments before he says haltingly, "I still do not understand all of your anger, Jaheira. But if Minsc has given offense, then he shall not rest until the offense is eased." A pause. "Minsc has lost too many witches. He does not want to lose you."

Jaheira draws a slow breath, lets it out heavily. "You have not lost me, Minsc," she says quietly. "It was I who almost lost you." She frowns. "And I have also lost too much to suffer that lightly."

Minsc looks at her sideways. "But you will not be my Wychlaran," he says. It is not a question, just a flat, tired statement of fact.

She sighs. "Minsc... do you think I did not listen when you spoke to Dynaheir, to Aerie? It was a bond of trust, entered into willingly by both sides. You cannot claim me in such a bond without my knowledge." A pause. "If you wished a place at my side, you should have asked me. Not claimed space within me like a conqueror."

He considers that in silence. "Jaheira, as always, speaks more wisely than Minsc can even think," he agrees after a little while. His mouth draws into a tight line. Then, in a very low voice, he adds, "Minsc has been afraid."

At that, she does lift her head away from her attention on the blades and looks at him directly for the first time. She knows Minsc well enough to know that this is an admission he would make to no one else.

"So many things have changed, Jaheira. I do not remember my time as a stone, for to Minsc it passed like lightning, like a blink - something and then nothing, and then something again but with more itching. Itching and loneliness. Had I a witch she would have soothed both. But I had none... Dynaheir was dead many a long year, and Aerie so far away that Minsc might never see her again..."

She nods slowly. She still remembers the keen, biting emptiness in her chest in the days after Khalid's death - the knowledge that she had been hurt beyond measure and that the one who would have eased the pain was beyond her reach. "You had only me."

"Yes," he answers, and a little more energy comes back into his voice. "And it seemed to Minsc that you must be my new witch, for you were the only one I trusted so, and a Rashemaar without his witch is like Boo without a bit of grain - quite empty." A pause. "Minsc forgot that for Minsc to have a witch, the witch must also have Minsc."

Jaheira smiles slightly and reaches over to rest a hand lightly on his knee. "I will not call myself Wychlaran - but you have me at your side, no matter the name, Minsc," she says quietly. "I did not travel yet again through the Baldurian sewer muck simply to toss you away."

His shoulders relax a little and she can see the slight curve of his lips back into his more accustomed smile. "Good. Minsc is glad to hear it," he says quietly.

For a little while, they sit in companionable silence, watching as the flames slowly drift lower and lower. Boo crawls back out of the shadows, dragging a carrot from the camp supply sack larger than he is; settling between them, he begins to gnaw contentedly on his prize. Jaheira begins to feel some of the tension that has been her constant companion for so many months beginning to bleed away. So much danger still lies ahead... but her friend, at least, is safe again, and that makes such a tremendous difference. He is not one of those she has lost, not yet.

"So," Minsc says abruptly after a little while. "This new monk you travel with. Hector. Tell me of him."

Jaheira stirs, jarred loose from reverie, and has to take a moment to collect her thoughts enough to answer. "A good man, I think," she says slowly after a little while. "He has seen as much in a few months as we did in all our time in Amn, and still stands as straight as he did the day I met him."

Minsc nods. "Minsc sees Rasaad in him," he says gravely.

Jaheira says nothing for a moment. Then she nods. "He has much the same temperament. He says little and sees much. Even when we were closest, Rasaad often said little of what was in his heart, and I think Hector also holds much he does not reveal."

"And he is not quick to catch a joke," Minsc points out with a sudden broad grin. "He said to Minsc that the bond of a Wychlaran sounded only like friendship. At that Minsc laughed, for such a thing should be laughed at, and said that by such a thought, the whole camp is full of my Wychlarans! But the monk did not laugh in turn; Minsc is not sure he saw the jest."

Jaheira grins crookedly. "Perhaps he did not. Certainly that was also a failing in Rasaad at times; perhaps Selunites are not trained in the art of humor." A long pause. "But I like him, Minsc. He is brave in spite of great fear - and good reason for it. He loves fiercely, friend and lover alike. He kills doppelgangers with only his fists. And there are shades of Caden in him, too; I think he would be kind even though it killed him."

Minsc squares his shoulders stoutly. "Then Minsc and Boo shall see to it that it does not kill him, for they shall kick the butts of all by his side." Boo lifts his head, his cheeks fat with a great mouthful of carrot, and gives a muffled squeak.

Jaheira chuckles. "He is in good hands indeed, then."

"Hands and paws," Minsc amends with a wide grin.

"Of course," she says, and grins back. "How could I forget?"

[hereforuconnwbb]

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER 1

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 15.4k (damn never again)

themes: pining, slow-burn, fluff

JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU TO THE AMAZING ANON THAT SENT ME THE PROMPT ILYSM AND HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY !

(i got so lost into the writing that i forgot half of the stuff i had written so if some bits dont add up or dont make sense just dont mind it pls THANKSSSS)

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

Paige had just finished a grueling pre-game walkthrough with the team, and as she stepped into the hotel lobby, she was looking forward to a few moments of peace before the intensity of game day would consume her. The hustle and bustle of the hotel lobby surrounded her, but it felt like she was in her own little world for a second. The buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses from the nearby bar, and the sound of footsteps rushing by—all of it was just background noise to Paige as she pressed the button for the 12th floor. She let out a quiet sigh as she waited for the elevator to arrive, her body already feeling the strain from hours of preparation. The pressure of the game was always present, always building until it felt like she could hardly breathe. But for now, in this small moment, she could take a breath, steal a few minutes of calm before the storm.

When the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, Paige stepped inside, feeling the cool metal walls greet her like an old friend. The doors closed behind her with a satisfying click, and she reached over to press the button for her floor.

The steady hum of the elevator’s ascent seemed to fill the space, the soft, mechanical noise providing a subtle comfort. It was a rare moment of solitude—just her, the quiet of the elevator, and the gentle movement as it carried her upward. For a few seconds, she could block out the rest of the world, the expectations, and the demands that would soon descend upon her. She leaned back against the cool metal wall, closing her eyes for a moment and letting her shoulders relax.

It felt good to just… not think about basketball for a minute. To not feel the weight of being the face of UConn basketball, of being expected to lead her team to victory every single time she stepped on the court. In the elevator, she was just Paige, for a fleeting moment.

The elevator stopped at the 8th floor, and Paige's attention shifted. She glanced at the panel, expecting the doors to open, but they remained closed. For a brief moment, she wondered if the elevator had malfunctioned. The usual ding to signal the stop didn’t sound, and the soft hum was all she could hear. Just as she was about to press the button again, the doors suddenly slid open with a quiet chime.

A familiar face appeared in the doorway—Azzi Fudd, Stanford’s star guard. Paige’s heart gave a small, involuntary flutter as she recognized her. They’d crossed paths a few times during games, and they both knew the other’s name, but they had never really spoken beyond the surface-level interactions of their fierce rivalry on the court. Off the court, they existed in completely separate worlds, each focused on their own teams, their own journey. Azzi’s expression seemed as neutral as ever, her eyes quickly scanning the small space before locking onto Paige.

Paige blinked, caught slightly off guard. There was a momentary pause before Azzi stepped into the elevator, her movements smooth and unbothered, almost as if this was a regular occurrence.

“Didn't expect to see you here,” Paige said, her tone casual, though her mind was already racing. The suddenness of the situation made her feel a bit out of place, especially with Azzi entering so effortlessly, like they were two strangers meeting in a much quieter, less competitive space.

Azzi gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, glancing briefly at Paige before pressing the button for the 14th floor. "Yeah, me neither. Guess we’re both on the same ride," she said, her voice low, but not unfriendly. It was hard to read anything from Azzi's face—she always seemed to keep a level of composure, but there was something about the quiet of the elevator that made her seem less guarded.

The doors slid shut, and for a second, they were both silent. There was a shift in the air, a subtle tension that felt a little too heavy for a small, confined space. They stood facing each other, the soft hum of the elevator filling the silence as it began its ascent once more.

Paige glanced at Azzi again, unsure if she should say something more. It was always a bit awkward meeting someone you knew only from the fierce battles on the court. The competition between them had always been intense, and yet here they were, two athletes caught in the same space, alone, without the weight of a game between them.

"So... you’re staying here too?" Paige asked, trying to break the silence with something casual, something easy. Her words felt a little too forced, but it was better than standing there in silence.

Azzi met her gaze briefly, her expression unreadable. "Yeah. We’re both in town for the same reason, right?" She replied smoothly, leaning back slightly against the elevator wall, her hands resting at her sides.

Paige nodded, taking a deep breath. She hadn’t expected this. In fact, she had kind of hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone from a competing team until after the game. But now that she was here, in this tiny elevator with Azzi, she figured there was no harm in trying to make conversation, even if it felt a little strange.

The elevator moved smoothly for a few moments, and the brief silence between them lingered. Paige tried to push aside the awkwardness, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, but the confined space felt increasingly small.

Then, without warning, the elevator jolted. Paige’s body tensed as the smooth hum that had comforted her earlier suddenly sputtered and stopped. For a brief second, she thought it might just be a hiccup in the system, but the quiet that followed made her stomach drop. She reached for the button panel, pressing the floor numbers one after the other, but nothing responded. The faint lights above flickered once, twice, before going completely still.

Azzi’s posture stiffened, and Paige glanced over at her. She was standing a little straighter now, her eyes narrowing as she glanced up at the lights and then down at the panel. Neither of them spoke immediately; the silence felt heavier now, the air in the small elevator suddenly dense and uncomfortable.

"Uh..." Paige started, her voice breaking the tension. "You think we're stuck?" Her words came out more uncertain than she'd intended.

Azzi didn’t seem rattled, but the hint of concern in her eyes was hard to miss. She reached out to press the emergency button on the panel, but the elevator remained still. No response.

"Looks like it," Azzi said calmly, though her voice was tinged with an edge of irritation. She glanced at the panel again, then at the walls of the elevator, trying to find something—anything—that would explain what had just happened.

Paige’s pulse quickened a little as she took in the situation. It wasn’t a big deal, not really, but being trapped in such a small space with another person... especially someone from a rival team... felt suffocating.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the unease that was creeping up on her. "Well, that's great," Paige muttered under her breath, a little more to herself than Azzi. "Just what I needed."

Azzi let out a short, dry laugh, a sound that felt slightly more human than the usual rivalry banter they shared on the court. "Guess we’re both stuck here until they figure it out," she said, her tone oddly light for the situation. "At least we're not in a crowd of people. That would’ve been worse."

Paige raised an eyebrow, glancing at Azzi. "Yeah, I suppose you’re right," she replied, a little surprised by how easy Azzi’s tone was. "Still, I can’t say I’m thrilled about being trapped here."

Azzi leaned back against the elevator wall, crossing her arms loosely. "Well, we might as well make the best of it. Not like we have much choice right now."

Paige huffed a small laugh, then sighed. "True. I guess we could always... talk. To pass the time."

Azzi turned her head slightly, looking at her with a raised brow. "Talk? What do you want to talk about? The game tomorrow?"

"I mean, that’s probably all we’re both thinking about, but..." Paige hesitated. "I guess we’ve never really had a chance to talk, have we? Off the court, I mean."

Azzi’s expression softened just a little, a flicker of something more relaxed passing over her face. "No, I guess not. But it’s not like we’re exactly friends, are we?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a layer of honesty there, too.

Paige nodded, feeling the same way. "I don’t know... I guess it feels different now, right? With... well, being stuck in here like this. It’s not like we can just pretend the other doesn’t exist."

Azzi’s lips twitched up into the faintest of smiles. "Yeah, I get that. Not sure if I’m ready to call you a friend just yet, though."

Paige couldn’t help but grin at the playful challenge in Azzi’s eyes. "Fair enough. But I’ll take the truce for now."

—-------------

The elevator remained still, neither moving nor responding to any attempts to get it going. With the reality that they were stuck in the small space settling in, Paige crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, trying to settle her nerves. The air felt tighter now, but she wasn’t sure if it was the situation or the proximity to Azzi that was making her feel a little on edge.

Azzi, however, seemed oddly calm. She stood with her arms casually crossed, her eyes glancing up and down the interior of the elevator, taking in the details. For a moment, Paige wondered if Azzi was just putting up a facade, hiding any frustration she might feel. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized that maybe Azzi really wasn’t as bothered by the situation as Paige was.

"So, you never really said... how’s the season been for you so far?" Paige asked, trying to steer the conversation away from their current predicament. She’d always been curious about Azzi’s game—how her style had evolved over the years, how she balanced being a star player on Stanford. But there had never been a real opportunity to ask those questions on the court.

Azzi shifted slightly, glancing at Paige as she considered the question. "It’s been... good," she replied, her voice steady. "Definitely a lot of pressure. But I’m used to it. I mean, coming into college, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But... I think it’s all about keeping your head straight and focusing on what’s in front of you."

Paige nodded, recognizing the same focus that had always been part of her own approach. "Yeah, I get that. It’s tough balancing the team's expectations with personal growth, isn’t it? I always feel like there’s so much more I could do, but then the next thing comes up, and the cycle never stops."

"Exactly." Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige, her gaze softening slightly as she spoke. "Sometimes I wonder if it’ll ever feel like enough. But you just keep pushing forward. What else can you do?"

The simplicity of the answer hit Paige harder than she expected. She’d spent so much of her life pushing herself to meet expectations, both internal and external. The pressure to be perfect, to be everything people saw in her. It was exhausting.

"I know that feeling," Paige said quietly, almost to herself. "There are days when I just want to... take a break. Or just not care for a second, you know?" She met Azzi’s eyes, and for the first time, she felt like maybe they understood each other more than she thought. They both wore the same weight, the weight of constant scrutiny and pressure to perform.

Azzi nodded in understanding, her lips curling into a small smile. "Yeah. I think we all need that sometimes. A little space to just breathe."

The elevator jerked slightly, and both of them instinctively straightened, their attention shifting. The brief moment of discomfort passed quickly, and they fell back into their conversation.

"You’ve been playing together with UConn for a while now, right?" Azzi asked, leaning a little closer to Paige as if genuinely interested in hearing about her experience. "What’s that like? The whole being the team to beat?"

Paige smiled faintly at the question. "It’s definitely a challenge, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The pressure’s insane, but it pushes us to be better. I think that’s the whole point, right? We’re always striving for the next thing. But there’s also something incredible about being on a team that’s constantly trying to prove itself. We just... we push each other."

Azzi tilted her head, considering Paige’s words. "That’s kind of what it’s like for us too. Every game, every practice—it’s about showing up. But I guess that’s part of what makes the game so... well, intense, right?"

Paige chuckled. "You could say that. But it’s like, no matter how much we achieve, there’s always something more to chase. It’s just the nature of this level. Sometimes I think that’s what makes it worth it. Like, if we didn’t have that drive, where would we be?"

"I get that," Azzi said thoughtfully. "It’s the constant hunger for more that keeps it interesting. But sometimes, I wonder what it’d feel like to just... be normal for a while, you know?"

Paige raised an eyebrow at her. "Normal? I think that’s overrated." She laughed softly, though the words rang truer than she intended. She had never been “normal.” Her entire life had been basketball and the constant expectations that came with it.

Azzi smiled, clearly amused. "Yeah, you're probably right. But it’s still tempting to imagine."

Paige shifted a bit, trying to ease the growing tension in her legs from standing. The space in the elevator wasn’t exactly spacious, and they had both been standing for what felt like too long. She rubbed her knees, feeling the strain. "Man, my legs are starting to kill me," she muttered, a little embarrassed by how uncomfortable she was.

Azzi nodded in agreement, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, same here. I don’t think I’ve stood this long in an elevator before. You’d think they’d at least put in some seats."

Paige looked around the tiny elevator. "You’re not wrong. I guess we’ll have to make the best of it."

Azzi sighed and, to Paige’s surprise, lowered herself down to sit on the floor. "I’ll take the floor at this point," Azzi said, with a small, dry laugh.

Paige hesitated for a moment before joining her, sitting down across from Azzi with her legs stretched out in front of her. The change in position felt good, though it only made the space feel even tighter. But at least her legs could finally relax.

"So, what do you do to unwind?" Paige asked, leaning back slightly against the elevator wall as she stretched her legs out further. The position was awkward, but at least it was better than standing.

Azzi tilted her head thoughtfully. "I like to read. It helps me clear my head. I can get lost in a book for hours."

"Really?" Paige raised an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn’t pegged Azzi as the bookworm type. "What kind of stuff do you read?"

Azzi shrugged. "Mostly fantasy and some mystery. I like stories that let me escape for a bit. It’s nice to get away from everything, even if it’s just in my head."

Paige smiled at that, surprised by how normal it sounded. "I get that. I like to read too. But mostly I play video games to unwind. I’m huge into Fortnite. It’s a good way to clear my mind after a stressful practice or game."

Azzi’s eyes widened a little. "Fortnite? I wouldn’t have guessed that."

Paige grinned. "Yeah, I’m a little obsessed. It’s a nice distraction, you know? Plus, it’s fun to team up with friends and just goof around."

"I’ve never played, but I’ve heard it’s addicting," Azzi said, leaning back against the wall. "Maybe I’ll give it a try sometime."

"You should," Paige said, her tone light and teasing. "I could teach you how to build those insane forts. We’ll see if you’re as good as me."

Azzi chuckled, a small, genuine laugh that softened the usual intensity in her voice. "I’ll take that challenge. Maybe after the season."

Azzi shifted slightly as she stretched out her legs, her eyes still focused on Paige. The more they talked, the more she realized how much she actually appreciated the chance to have a conversation without the usual walls of competition between them. It was odd, really, how their rivalry could be so strong on the court, but here, stuck in the elevator, it didn’t seem to matter as much.

"So," Azzi began, leaning forward slightly, her voice quieter now, "we’ve talked about basketball, but what about... outside of all that? What do you do when you’re not on the court or playing Fortnite?" Her tone was more curious than probing, but Paige could hear the shift—the genuine interest beneath the causal question.

Paige paused, suddenly unsure of what to say. Her life had always been basketball, always about the next game, the next practice, the next challenge. But sitting here in the small space with Azzi, something about the question made her want to share, even if she wasn’t quite sure how.

"I guess... I don’t know. I watch a lot of movies, too. Mostly comedies, like I said, because it’s nice to laugh and forget everything for a little while." Paige smiled sheepishly. "And I guess I’ve been getting more into reading too, especially when I need to just turn off my brain for a bit. You know how it is."

Azzi’s eyes softened, as if she could relate to the quiet exhaustion in Paige’s words. "Yeah, I do. I mean, sometimes, I just want to zone out and not think about anything for a while. Books are great for that. I can get so lost in them, I forget about the outside world."

Paige looked at Azzi, feeling the quiet understanding between them. "What are you reading right now?"

Azzi hesitated for a moment before pulling her phone from her pocket and unlocking it. She opened an app for ebooks, scrolling through the titles until she found the one she was reading. "It’s a fantasy novel. The world-building is incredible. I get so caught up in it sometimes, I end up staying up way too late."

"That sounds cool," Paige said, a little surprised by how invested Azzi seemed in her books. "Maybe I should give fantasy a try. I’ve always been into thrillers or mysteries, but there’s something kind of... magical about getting lost in a different world like that."

Azzi grinned, clearly excited to talk about it. "You definitely should! I could suggest some good ones. It’s like you get to live a whole different life for a bit, even if it’s just in your mind."

Paige laughed, imagining herself escaping into one of Azzi’s books. "Alright, alright. I’ll give it a shot. But don’t get mad if I’m still not a fan."

Azzi raised her hands in mock surrender. "No judgment here. But you’re missing out."

The conversation fell into a more comfortable rhythm now, each of them revealing little bits of themselves that had nothing to do with basketball. Paige felt her walls start to come down more, surprised by how easy it was to talk to Azzi once the usual competitive edge was removed. They were two people—no more, no less—just talking and sharing their lives, not trying to outdo each other.

—-------------

The elevator remained still, the hum of silence surrounding them, but somehow, the silence didn’t feel as suffocating anymore. Paige glanced over at Azzi and noticed a small, almost imperceptible shift in the way Azzi held herself. She wasn’t the same intense, guarded player from the court. She was just... Azzi. And for some reason, that made Paige feel a little more at ease too.

"Hey, I have to admit," Paige said after a beat, her voice softer now, "this is kind of nice. I mean, I didn’t think I’d be stuck in an elevator with you, of all people, but it’s… not as bad as I expected."

Azzi chuckled, a little surprised by the honesty in Paige’s tone. "Yeah, me neither. But I’m kind of glad it happened this way. Guess we’re getting to know each other without all the... ‘game face’ stuff."

Paige smiled, feeling the slightest bit of heat creep into her cheeks. "Yeah. I guess so."

They sat there for a few more moments, talking about everything and nothing. The tension between them had shifted—no longer the edge of competition, but the soft undercurrent of two people who were learning more about one another with every word spoken.

Even as the minutes ticked by, the situation somehow didn’t feel as uncomfortable anymore. Maybe it was the fact that they were forced to stay in one place, or maybe it was because they were both human, with the same pressures and dreams. But for now, it felt like something more than just two basketball players stuck in an elevator. It felt like the start of something unexpected.

The conversation flowed between them, easy and natural now, the tension of their usual competition slipping away with every passing minute. Paige found herself feeling more and more comfortable in Azzi’s company, her initial awkwardness fading into something more relaxed. It was almost as if they had both forgotten they were on opposing teams.

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward the elevator ceiling, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee as she sat across from Paige. The air had shifted between them—a quiet, unspoken understanding, something more than just shared space. Something more than just two athletes who happened to be stuck together.

—-------------

After a few moments of silence, Paige hesitated, her mind moving away from the conversation they were having and toward something else. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, but the thought of spending time with Azzi outside of the usual context of basketball seemed... kind of nice.

"Hey," Paige started, her voice a little unsure as she looked over at Azzi, "when we get out of here... are you busy later on? I was thinking maybe we could hang out. Just, you know, relax for a bit. You seem pretty chill, and... I don’t know; I figured it’d be nice to just, uh, do something outside of the gym or practice for once."

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. She froze for a moment, her eyes briefly flickering to the elevator doors as if looking for some kind of escape. She hadn’t been expecting that, and for a moment, her mind spun with indecision. She didn’t want to come off as uninterested, but she wasn’t sure what she would even do. Her schedule had always been packed, and hanging out with Paige—someone she’d always seen as a competitor—felt a bit... strange.

"I, uh..." Azzi trailed off, biting her lip in thought. "I don’t really have any plans, but I’m not sure what I’d want to do. I mean, I don’t... really hang out with people much outside of the team, you know?" She glanced at Paige, unsure if she was making things awkward or if she was just overthinking it. "I mean, I could, but... I don’t know. I’m kind of bad at making plans, honestly."

Paige smiled softly, understanding the hesitation in Azzi’s voice. She could feel the nerves, the uncertainty, and she didn’t want to push too hard. "I get it," Paige said, nodding slowly. "I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hang out either. It’s kind of random, I know. But no pressure, seriously. I just thought it might be fun, you know? But if you’re not sure, we can just... leave it for now."

Azzi shifted a bit, her fingers still tapping against her leg. "I mean... I don’t want to sound like I’m avoiding you or anything, but I’m not exactly the best at figuring out what to do when I’m not, like, doing something specific. You know?" She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Maybe I’m just overthinking it. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been great at... socializing, I guess."

Paige laughed lightly, sensing the mix of awkwardness and hesitation in Azzi’s words. "You’re good," she reassured, her tone lighthearted. "I mean, I get it. Sometimes I’m not sure what I want to do either. And it’s not like we have to plan a whole thing. We could just grab a bite to eat or something, or... I don’t know, just hang out for a bit. Nothing big."

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she let out a small breath, as if finally deciding. "Okay, yeah... I guess I could do that. I’m not totally sure what we’d do, but... we could figure it out, I guess?"

Paige smiled, relieved that Azzi had agreed, even if a little unsure herself. "Sounds perfect," she said, her voice warm. "I mean, we don’t have to have everything figured out. We could just go with the flow."

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips as the tension between them eased. "Yeah, I guess that sounds alright. It’ll be nice to just relax for a change."

The elevator hummed quietly as they sat in companionable silence for a moment, the idea of hanging out still hanging in the air between them. For Paige, the uncertainty wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt more like the beginning of something unexpected.

—-------------

The elevator gave a sudden jolt, followed by a soft mechanical hum, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, it began to move again. Paige and Azzi glanced at each other, a mixture of relief and quiet amusement crossing their faces as the elevator slowly ascended.

"Looks like we’re finally getting out of here," Paige said, her voice light, though a little disappointed that their time together was coming to an end. She shifted slightly, getting back on her feet as the elevator slowly made its way up to the correct floor.

Azzi gave a small, almost shy smile, nodding. "Yeah, guess it’s about time," she agreed, though she didn’t seem eager to leave just yet. She tugged at the hem of her jacket nervously, but there was a softness in her eyes now that hadn’t been there when they first stepped in.

As the elevator reached the desired floor and the doors slid open with a soft ‘ding,’ the two of them lingered for a moment, unsure of how to end their time together. There was a brief silence, but neither of them seemed ready to rush off.

Paige hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit nervous despite herself. "Hey, um... since we’re both kind of out of our usual routine today, maybe we should keep in touch. I mean, you know, just to hang out and stuff. If you’re up for it." She shifted her weight, glancing at Azzi, her voice suddenly unsure. "I could give you my number if you want?"

Azzi blinked, clearly a little surprised by the offer but not entirely uncomfortable with the idea. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers fidgeting with her jacket as she took a breath. "Yeah... I mean, I’d like that," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "I’m kind of bad at reaching out first, but I guess we could try this whole hanging out thing again sometime."

A small, genuine smile tugged at Paige’s lips. "It’s a deal then." She pulled out her phone, unlocking it quickly. "I’ll send you a text so you have my number."

Azzi took out her own phone, and they exchanged numbers, the brief touch of their fingers making the moment feel just a little more personal. When they were done, Paige held up her phone, offering Azzi one last smile.

"Alright, well... guess I’ll see you around, Azzi," Paige said, her voice a little softer now. "Maybe we can actually plan something when we’re not stuck in an elevator next time."

Azzi chuckled, the playful glint in her eyes making the moment feel lighter. "Yeah, hopefully. I’ll be the one to pick the place next time," she teased, her smile widening. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s not a surprise elevator adventure."

Paige laughed, feeling a flutter of something she couldn’t quite name in her chest. "Deal. Take care, Azzi."

"You too, Paige," Azzi replied, giving her a small nod. "Catch you later."

As Paige stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, she felt a strange sense of anticipation, a quiet excitement bubbling up in her chest. Maybe they were rivals on the court, but something about today—the unexpected conversation, the easy banter—made it feel like they were on the edge of something new.

She glanced back one last time, watching as the elevator doors closed between them. As the elevator hummed back to life, Paige felt a small, almost unspoken promise between them—this wasn’t the last time they’d see each other.

—-------------

Paige had just dropped her bag onto the bed when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find KK standing there, an inquisitive grin on her face.

"So, what happened?" KK asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "You were in that elevator forever. Did you and Azzi talk, or was it all awkward silence?"

Paige froze for a second, her mind racing. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain everything. Sure, they’d talked—but how did you explain that? That there was something different about the way she’d connected with Azzi today? It wasn’t like anything had happened... yet, but the conversation had been surprisingly easy.

"It was just... normal," Paige said, shrugging as casually as she could. "We just talked, I guess. About books, and... well, she reads to unwind, just like I do."

KK raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Books, huh? That’s the story? I thought you two were rivals, not book buddies."

Paige shrugged again, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, well... turns out we have more in common than I thought. We also talked about basketball a little, but it wasn’t all about the game, you know?"

KK grinned, clearly trying to piece everything together. "And you got her number?"

Paige looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah, I did."

"That’s all?" KK asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "No sparks? No "OMG, I’m totally crushing on Azzi Fudd now’ moments?"

Paige's face went red. "What? No! I mean... I don’t know. We’re just getting to know each other, KK. Nothing serious happened."

KK just laughed, crossing her arms. "Uh-huh. Sure, sure. But mark my words, you’re definitely going to hang out again. You wouldn’t have gotten her number if you weren’t interested."

Paige groaned, shaking her head. "It’s not like that."

"Right," KK said with a smirk. "But I’m calling it now—next time, you two are definitely going to hang out. You’ll see."

—-------------

Meanwhile, in Azzi’s room on a different floor, Caroline sat on the bed, her legs crossed, waiting for Azzi to settle down. The moment Azzi plopped down beside her, Caroline wasted no time.

"So," Caroline began, an almost mischievous glint in her eyes, "you and Paige—how was that?"

Azzi, still feeling a bit flustered from the whole experience, shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It was fine," she said, though she couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "We were just stuck in the elevator for a while, so we talked. About books mostly."

Caroline raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Books? Really? I thought you were just in there, you know, getting competitive and fighting for dominance or whatever."

Azzi chuckled nervously, shaking her head. "No, nothing like that. We actually ended up talking about what we like to do to relax, and it turns out she reads a lot too. Like, really into it. I didn’t expect that."

Caroline leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Wait, so you’re telling me that Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers—rivals, right—spent an hour talking about books and totally not basketball?"

Azzi ran a hand through her hair, her cheeks tinged pink. "Yeah, kind of. She’s... different from what I expected. I thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. It just felt... easy."

Caroline’s grin widened. "Look at you, all soft and sentimental! I bet you’re totally into her now, huh?"

Azzi froze, her heart skipping a beat. "What? No!" she said, almost too quickly. "It’s not like that. We just—well, we clicked a little, I guess. But I don’t know what to make of it."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. So you totally got her number, though? I mean, that’s a pretty big step, don’t you think?"

Azzi winced, her fingers nervously picking at the edge of her shirt. "Yeah, I did. But it’s not like I’m jumping into anything. We’re just getting to know each other better. I’m not sure where it’s going yet."

Caroline sat back with a knowing smile. "Sure, sure. But I’m just saying—if you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t have gotten her number. And I can tell, there’s definitely something there."

Azzi let out a sigh, looking away. "I don’t know, Caroline. I don’t want to make things weird. But I guess... yeah, maybe there’s a little something there."

Caroline’s smile softened. "Hey, I’m not saying you have to rush into anything. Just... keep me posted, okay? I want to know how this turns out."

Azzi gave her a small, shy smile. "Yeah, I will."

—-------------

Later that evening, Paige was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone when KK barged into the room again, this time with a mischievous grin.

"So, did you text her yet?" KK asked, practically bouncing on her feet.

Paige blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion. She hadn’t expected to be questioned again so soon. "Uh, no," she answered, her tone a little defensive. "I was just waiting until later, you know? She’s probably busy with her team anyway."

KK folded her arms, leaning against the wall as if she’d just uncovered some great mystery. "Busy? Please. It’s not like you’re sitting there with nothing to do." She raised an eyebrow. "Just text her already. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Paige groaned, her face redder than she would have liked. "It’s not that simple, KK. I don’t want to seem too eager."

"Oh, please, you’re already past that point," KK said with a laugh. "You’ve got her number, and she’s got yours. You’re in. Now it’s just a matter of... making it official, you know?"

Paige glared at her friend. "Can you stop acting like I’m already planning some big romance? We’re just friends. We hung out a little."

KK didn’t budge, though. "Sure, sure," she said with a wink. "But I can see the way you look at her. You’re interested, I can tell."

Paige sank back into her pillows, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You’re impossible. I’m not even sure if she’s interested, okay?"

KK grinned. "I think you’re both interested; you just don’t want to admit it yet. Trust me, you’ll figure it out."

Paige rolled her eyes, but despite her resistance, a small smile crept up on her face. "I’ll keep you posted, okay?"

"Good," KK said, winking as she left the room. "I’m counting on it."

—-------------

Back in Azzi’s room, she sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand, still processing the whirlwind of emotions from earlier. It was only a few hours ago that she’d been in the elevator with Paige, but it already felt like the conversation had left a lasting impression. Paige had been easy to talk to, far easier than Azzi had expected. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted to spend time with her again.

Caroline was stretched out on the bed, watching Azzi’s restlessness with amusement. "So, what’s going on? You’ve been staring at your phone for like, what, ten minutes now?"

Azzi sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously against the screen. "I don’t know," she muttered. "I’m thinking about texting Paige."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What, are you finally going to ask her to hang out?"

Azzi paused, her thumb hovering over the screen as she remembered something. "Actually, she kind of mentioned wanting to hang out later today. I don’t want to seem like I’m overdoing it, though."

Caroline smirked. "You’re not overdoing it. She said she wanted to hang out, right? So what’s stopping you?"

Azzi bit her lip, still uncertain. "I don’t know. I don’t want to be too forward. I don’t even know what we’d do once we hang out. It feels kind of... weird, you know?"

Caroline chuckled, sitting up now and crossing her arms. "Azzi, you’re overthinking this. You’ve already got her number. She said she wanted to hang out. All you have to do is ask if she’s still up for it. It’s that simple."

Azzi’s mind flashed back to when they were in the elevator—how Paige had hesitated, then asked if Azzi was busy later, hinting at the possibility of hanging out after. It wasn’t a big deal at all. It was just a casual suggestion. But for some reason, Azzi’s heart was still racing just thinking about texting her.

"You’re right," Azzi said with a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to unlock her phone. She opened her messages and hesitated for a second. What should she say? How casual could she make it?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Azzi typed, "Hey, it’s Azzi. You mentioned wanting to hang out later. Are you still up for that?"

She stared at the screen for a moment, then hit send before she could overthink it. As soon as the message was sent, Azzi leaned back on her bed and closed her eyes.

Caroline watched her closely. "See? That wasn’t so bad, right?"

Azzi exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Yeah, I guess not." She glanced at her phone again, waiting for the reply that would come. "Now we just wait."

Caroline flashed a grin. "She’ll text you back. Don’t stress."

—-------------

Meanwhile, Paige was pacing around her room, her thoughts racing. She had just texted her friends about the day’s events, but she couldn’t shake the memory of being in the elevator with Azzi. The conversation had been surprisingly easy, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a part of her that was really looking forward to hanging out with Azzi again.

Her phone buzzed on the bed, making her jump. She quickly grabbed it, her heart pounding a little faster as she saw Azzi’s name pop up on the screen. Paige quickly unlocked the phone, holding her breath as she read the message.

Hey, it’s Azzi. You mentioned wanting to hang out later. Are you still up for that?

A smile tugged at the corners of Paige’s mouth. Azzi remembered. She remembered that she’d suggested they hang out. Paige had been kind of unsure about it, but seeing this text made her feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy to want to spend more time with her.

Paige took a moment to compose her thoughts, then quickly typed back, "Yeah, I’d love that. What time works for you?"

Her finger hovered over the send button for just a second before she pressed it, waiting for Azzi’s response. She felt a nervous excitement in her chest, wondering what they’d do once they were finally alone together outside of the game and their teammates.

She didn’t have to wait long. Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was a response from Azzi.

How about after we have our dinner? We can figure something out then.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. "Sounds perfect," she typed back, feeling the smile spread across her face.

As they made their way back to the hotel after having dinner with their respective teams, Paige could feel her nerves settling. They had met up at the lobby before making their way in the elevator to the level Paige’s room was on.

There was something about spending time with Azzi that felt... easy. The conversation had flowed so naturally in the elevator, and now, they were heading to Paige’s room to do something a bit out of the ordinary: teach Azzi how to play Fortnite. 

“So, like I said in the elevator,” Paige started as they walked down the hallway, glancing over at Azzi with a soft smile. “I’m going to teach you how to play Fortnite. It’s honestly a lot of fun once you get the hang of it. I know you said you don’t usually game, but it’s a pretty chill way to unwind. Plus, it’s way less intense than practice.” She flashed a grin over her shoulder at Azzi.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “You make it sound so casual. I’m just hoping I don’t completely embarrass myself. I’ve never played a game like this before.”

“You’ll be fine,” Paige reassured her, nudging her gently with her elbow as they walked. The touch lingered just a second too long, but neither of them acknowledged it. “It’s all about having fun, and trust me, I’m really patient when I’m teaching someone. You won’t be alone in this—I’ll show you the ropes.”

—-------------

When they reached Paige’s room, she opened the door to reveal her PS5 setup, already plugged into the TV. The controllers were neatly placed on the bed, a little sign of Paige’s organized yet relaxed nature. She motioned to the couch. “Take a seat. I’ll get everything set up for us.”

Azzi hesitated for just a moment before sitting down, feeling a little out of her element. Paige was already in her element, moving around the room with the ease of someone who had set this up a million times. Azzi picked up a controller, feeling the weight of it in her hands. “So, what exactly do I need to know?”

Paige smiled as she dropped down beside her, her knee brushing against Azzi’s. The touch was brief, but it sent a small jolt of warmth through Azzi, and she couldn’t help but glance over at Paige. “First things first—you need to get familiar with the controls. We’ll start with moving and shooting, then work our way to building and... you know, surviving the storm.” She said it like it was no big deal, but Azzi could tell she was excited to share this with her.

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” Azzi muttered, trying to calm her nerves. She felt like she was about to embarrass herself, but she trusted Paige’s confidence in her.

Paige set up the game and took a seat beside Azzi, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s as she adjusted the controller in her hands. The small proximity between them made Azzi’s heart race just a little faster, but she focused on the task at hand. “Alright, so when I said I’d teach you, I meant it. I’ll walk you through every part of this, no pressure. We’ll take it slow. I promise, by the end of the night, you’ll know how to build at least a small fortress.”

Azzi chuckled, trying to calm her thoughts. “A fortress, huh? I’m just hoping to stay alive long enough to see the next round.”

Paige laughed, her voice light and teasing. “We’ll start small. I’ll guide you through everything. Ready?”

Azzi nodded, still holding the controller a bit awkwardly. “Let’s do it.”

—-------------

The next few moments passed in a blur as Paige guided Azzi through the basics, showing her how to move, how to aim, and how to fire. Azzi was more focused than she expected to be, determined to catch on. Every time she messed up, Paige didn’t let her feel bad about it. Instead, she’d smile, the touch of her hand brushing against Azzi’s arm as she gently adjusted Azzi’s grip on the controller. “It’s all part of the learning process,” she’d say, her voice soft and reassuring.

Before long, Azzi was starting to get the hang of it. She managed to take down an opponent for the first time, and her face lit up with pride. “Did I do that?” she asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

Paige beamed at her, clearly impressed. “You did! See? I told you, you’ve got this.” She looked at Azzi, her eyes softening just a little. “I knew you’d catch on quickly.”

Azzi grinned, her nerves starting to fade. “Alright, I think I’m getting the hang of this. Maybe I could even play some more after we’re done here.”

Paige gave her a playful shove, her hand lingering on Azzi’s arm for just a moment too long before she pulled it back, their fingers brushing lightly as she pulled away. “You’ll be hooked soon enough. Just wait until you get better at building. That’s when the real fun starts.”

Before they could continue, there was a knock on the door. Paige paused the game and looked at Azzi, raising an eyebrow. “That’s probably KK, being nosy again,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

The door opened before either of them could respond, and in walked KK, flashing a mischievous grin. “Well, well, well. What’s going on here?” She asked, her eyes dancing with amusement as she took in the scene—Azzi and Paige sitting close together, the controllers in their hands, and the game paused on the screen.

Paige groaned, clearly not surprised by KK’s sudden intrusion. “Seriously, KK? Didn’t I tell you to stay in your room?”

KK looked unbothered by the command, strolling into the room and glancing at Azzi. “I just wanted to check on my girl Azzi here. See how she’s holding up with this whole Fortnite thing.”

Azzi flushed, clearly flustered by KK’s teasing. “I’m not... I’m just learning. Paige is helping me.”

KK raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Uh-huh. I see how it is. I didn’t realize you two were going to have a private gaming session.”

Paige gave her a pointed look. “KK, you can go hang out in Ice’s room now. This is... well, this is my ‘teaching’ time with Azzi.”

KK snickered but didn’t push further. “Fine, fine. But don’t have too much fun without me. I’ll be sure to tell Ice that you two are, you know, bonding over video games.” She winked and left the room, still chuckling to herself.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Sorry about that,” she said, turning back to Azzi. “KK’s got a thing for drama. Ignore her.”

Azzi smiled, still a bit flustered but grateful for Paige’s company. “No worries. She’s... interesting.”

With KK gone, the room quieted again, and they resumed their game, the sound of their laughter filling the air as Paige continued to guide Azzi through the game. As the night wore on, Paige found herself more and more comfortable with the closeness between them. Every time their fingers brushed as they passed the controller back and forth, it felt like an electric jolt, lingering in the air just a little longer than expected.

It was a strange but fun night, and even though they hadn’t planned on it, they were already making memories together—one Fortnite match at a time.

The game had become a background hum as the hours slipped by. Azzi was no longer awkward with the controls; she had found her rhythm, and with Paige’s guidance, she was getting better by the minute. The atmosphere in the room was casual, but there was an undeniable charge that hummed between them every time their arms brushed or when Paige leaned in close to explain something.

Azzi couldn’t help but notice how Paige’s laughter was easy and warm, and how she always seemed to find a way to make Azzi feel like she wasn’t failing, no matter how many times she made a mistake. They were both getting more comfortable with every touch—each brush of their hands or a shared laugh—slowly erasing the tension that had been present earlier in the night.

“So,” Paige said as Azzi took another turn, her eyes drifting toward the clock on the wall, “I know I said I’d teach you, but you’re actually pretty good at this. You’re picking it up way faster than I thought you would.”

Azzi looked over at Paige, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Paige grinned, her eyes bright with excitement. “You’re not making it look easy for me anymore. You’re surviving longer than I thought you would.”

Azzi smiled at the compliment, feeling a warm flush spread across her cheeks. “Well, I guess it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s... kind of fun.”

“Kind of?” Paige teased, her voice light, and Azzi laughed.

“Okay, fine, it’s pretty fun,” she admitted, a little embarrassed at how much she was enjoying herself. “I’ll have to admit, I’ve never really seen the appeal before.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get hooked soon enough,” Paige said, her tone teasing, but there was something more beneath it, something Azzi couldn’t quite name.

Azzi felt a pull in the air between them, like an invisible thread tugging her closer. She paused for a second, looking over at Paige. “I’ve got to be honest,” she said, her voice softer now, “I never really thought I’d spend my night like this. I mean, playing video games with you? It’s kind of... unexpected.”

Paige leaned back against the couch, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Yeah, well, sometimes the best nights are the ones you don’t plan for. I didn’t think I’d be teaching anyone Fortnite tonight either, but I’m glad it’s you.”

Azzi smiled at that, her heart beating a little faster. She wasn’t sure if it was the game or the fact that they were sitting here together, but the atmosphere had changed between them. There was a softness now, an openness, like they were letting their guard down just a little bit more with each passing minute.

Before Azzi could respond, Paige glanced at the clock again and let out a sigh. “We should probably wrap this up soon,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Azzi felt a sudden disappointment settle in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel like this, but she wasn’t ready for their time together to end. “Yeah,” she said, trying to hide the slight sadness in her voice, “I guess it’s getting late.”

Paige stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “I didn’t think I’d say this, but I think I’m actually starting to enjoy Fortnite... or maybe just spending time with you.” She winked playfully, but there was something genuine in her eyes when she looked back at Azzi.

Azzi felt her chest tighten at the words, her heart giving a small leap. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the warmth in Paige’s gaze, but it was hard to deny the effect it had on her.

“Thanks for teaching me,” Azzi said softly, the words tumbling out without much thought. “I had a really good time tonight.”

Paige smiled warmly, her eyes lingering on Azzi a little longer than usual. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you came by.” She bit her lip, hesitating for a second before continuing. “Actually, I was thinking… If you ever want to play again sometime... Maybe we could do this again. You know, teach you some more tricks.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d like that,” she said, surprised at how easily the words came out.

The air between them felt thick now, as if they both realized how much this small moment meant. Paige stood in front of her, a few inches away, and there was a charged silence, as if both of them were waiting for something to happen. Azzi could feel the pull between them, something unspoken yet undeniably real.

Just as Azzi was about to say something else, there was another knock on the door, breaking the moment. Paige let out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, people never leave me alone.” She walked to the door, opening it to reveal KK, standing there with an all-knowing grin.

“Hey, are you guys done with your little video game marathon?” KK asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity.

Paige shot her a pointed look, trying to mask the flush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, we’re about to wrap it up. What do you want, KK?”

KK raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying Paige’s casual tone. “Just checking in. I’ll leave you two alone now, but, you know…” She paused, her eyes shifting between the two of them, “Don’t get too cozy. You’ve got a game tomorrow.”

Paige groaned, and Azzi couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, we won’t,” she said quickly, standing up. “We’ll see you later, KK.”

With a final smirk, KK left, and the door clicked shut behind her. Paige turned back to Azzi, looking both relieved and a little flustered.

“Well, that was… awkward,” Paige said with a laugh. “But seriously, I really did have fun tonight. We should definitely hang out again sometime.”

Azzi smiled, her chest warming at the thought. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere.

The two of them stood there for a moment, lingering in the space between them. Paige walked a little closer, her eyes searching Azzi’s, and before either of them could say anything else, Paige surprised her by pulling her into a hug. It was soft, tentative at first, as if neither of them knew quite what to make of the moment, but it felt natural, like something that should have happened sooner. Azzi tensed for just a second, then relaxed into it, her arms wrapping around Paige as she rested her cheek on Paige's shoulder.

It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to send Azzi’s heart racing. They pulled back just slightly, their faces only inches apart. The air between them felt warmer now, less tense, more open.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? Well obviously tomorrow cause we are playing but after that?” Paige asked softly with a chuckle,

Azzi nodded, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Yeah. Tomorrow after the game.”

As Azzi turned to leave, she felt a small flutter in her chest—a feeling she wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret but knew she wouldn’t forget anytime soon. The night had started with a game, but it felt like something more now.

As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for a second, her hand resting over her heart. There was no doubt about it—something had shifted, and she didn’t want to overthink it just yet. But, somehow, she knew that whatever came next, she was looking forward to it.

—-------------

The morning of game day always came with a mix of nerves and excitement, but for Paige, there was something else lingering beneath the usual pre-game adrenaline. She’d woken up thinking about last night—about Azzi, about the way they had sat close, shoulders brushing, fingers grazing, about the hug that had lasted just a little longer than expected.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she knew one thing—she was looking forward to seeing Azzi again.

UConn’s schedule was packed, starting with a team breakfast in one of the hotel conference rooms. Paige slid into her usual seat next to KK, who was already halfway through a plate of eggs and toast. Across the table, Ice and the others were talking through their scouting reports, but Paige’s mind was elsewhere.

KK smirked. “Sooo… did she text you?”

Paige’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

KK rolled her eyes. “Azzi. You two were acting all friendly last night, and don’t think I didn’t notice how you basically kicked me out.”

Paige sighed, taking a bite of her food. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Uh-huh,” KK drawled, clearly not buying it. “So you weren’t all cuddled up on the bed, ‘teaching’ her how to play Fortnite?”

Paige glared. “We weren’t cuddled up.”

KK grinned. “Whatever you say, Bueckers. But you looked real comfortable.”

Paige exhaled sharply. “It was just a game, KK.”

“Sure. And I’m just a casual basketball player,” KK shot back. “Look, I don’t care what’s going on, but you’re kinda obvious. Just saying.”

Paige groaned, pushing her plate away. Maybe she was being obvious, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. Not today.

Because today, Azzi wasn’t just the girl who had sat too close, the girl who had lingered in the doorway after a hug that neither of them seemed ready to let go of.

Today, Azzi was the opponent.

—-------------

Meanwhile, on another floor…

Azzi sat at breakfast, stirring her yogurt absentmindedly while Caroline watched her with a knowing smile.

“So… do I even need to ask what—or who—you’re thinking about?”

Azzi’s hand froze for a second before she forced herself to keep stirring. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Caroline laughed. “Azzi. You’re so bad at lying.”

Azzi sighed. “It’s nothing.”

Caroline hummed, resting her chin on her palm. “Right. Nothing at all. Just a casual elevator moment, a casual video game session, a casual hug—”

Azzi shot her a glare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Caroline grinned. “Nope. And I definitely don’t stop when I know I’m right.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Caroline smirked. “So… did she text you?”

Azzi hesitated, then glanced down at her phone, where Paige’s name still sat at the top of her messages.

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, she did.”

Azzi groaned. “Caroline, please.”

Caroline cackled. “This is amazing. I mean, obviously, she’s into you.”

Azzi bit her lip. “She was just being nice.”

Caroline snorted. “Right, because Paige Bueckers is out here teaching everyone how to play Fortnite.”

Azzi hated how that made her stomach flip.

Caroline leaned forward. “Come on, Azzi. Be honest. You like her.”

Azzi swallowed. “I don’t—” She stopped herself, because suddenly, she wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

Caroline just smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

—-------------

The game was only hours away, and soon, none of this would matter. They were opponents now.

But as the teams warmed up on opposite ends of the court, Paige caught Azzi’s eye.

And when Azzi looked back, neither of them looked away.

For a moment, the game didn’t feel so simple anymore

Paige wasn’t sure when warming up had started feeling like a battle in itself. She went through the motions—form shooting, stretching, layups—but her focus kept drifting. Every time she glanced across the court, she caught flashes of Azzi—her smooth jumper, the way she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, the way she bit her lip in concentration.

It was distracting. Way too distracting.

“Dude, you good?” KK nudged her as they jogged back to the bench.

“Fine,��� Paige answered quickly, shaking out her hands.

KK arched an eyebrow. “Then stop staring.”

Paige scoffed. “I’m not staring.”

KK didn’t even bother responding to that. She just smirked, stretching her arms over her head. “You’re so obvious, man. It’s hilarious.”

Before Paige could defend herself, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the game.

There was no more time for distractions.

—-------------

Azzi wasn’t sure what was wrong with her.

She was usually locked in before a game, focused on the game plan, on executing plays, on proving herself. But now, her mind kept drifting to something—someone—else.

She tried to ignore it. She tried to pretend like Paige wasn’t standing across from her during the tip-off, like she wasn’t stealing glances in her direction, like the memory of last night wasn’t still replaying in her head.

But then Paige smirked at her just before the ball went up, and Azzi knew she was screwed.

—-------------

The game was fast, aggressive, exactly what everyone expected from two top programs.

Paige and Azzi weren’t matched up directly most of the time, but when they were, it felt… different.

Every possession was a challenge, every play filled with just a little more intensity than usual.

Azzi drained a three early in the second quarter, and when Paige came down on the other end and hit one of her own, she made sure to hold Azzi’s gaze just a second longer than necessary.

Azzi wasn’t one for trash talk, but she smirked as she ran past. “Not bad.”

Paige grinned. “Try to keep up.”

And just like that, the game became something else entirely.

—-------------

By the fourth quarter, it was close. Too close.

Paige wasn’t even sure how many points she had—she was too focused on keeping her team in it. But every time she looked up, Azzi was right there, hitting big shots, making key plays, looking every bit as competitive as Paige had always known her to be.

With less than a minute left, UConn was down by two. The ball ended up in Paige’s hands, and as she came off a screen, she saw Azzi switch onto her.

She hesitated for half a second—just enough for Azzi to notice.

For a moment, it wasn’t just a game. It was them.

Paige attacked anyway. She got past Azzi with a quick crossover, pulled up at the elbow, and let it fly.

The ball hung in the air, the crowd holding its breath.

And then—

Swish.

Tie game.

Paige let out a breath, but as she turned, her eyes met Azzi’s again.

Azzi shook her head, a small, almost reluctant smile on her lips.

Paige grinned. “Told you to keep up.”

Azzi just laughed softly, shaking her head.

But she wasn’t backing down.

Not yet.

—-------------

Stanford had the final possession. The crowd was electric, the tension in the air thick enough to feel in Paige’s chest. She bent her knees, locked in on the ball handler, but her eyes kept flickering to Azzi, standing near the wing, waiting.

She knew what was coming.

Azzi wasn’t just a shooter—she was their shooter. If Stanford wanted to win, the ball was going to her.

Paige just had to stop it.

The play unfolded exactly how she expected. A screen, a quick cut, and suddenly, Azzi was curling around the perimeter, catching the pass in perfect rhythm.

Paige closed the gap instantly, hand in her face, heartbeat in her throat.

Azzi didn’t hesitate.

She rose up, smooth and effortless, letting the ball fly over Paige’s outstretched fingers.

It felt like time slowed. The arc was perfect. The release, textbook.

And then—Clank.

The ball hit the back rim and bounced out.

The buzzer sounded. Overtime.

—-------------

Paige barely had time to process what happened before KK was grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Damn, P, you got lucky.”

Paige exhaled, nodding. She turned her head—Azzi was standing near half-court, hands on her hips, staring at the rim.

She had the shot. It just didn’t fall.

As the teams walked to their benches, Azzi caught Paige’s eye.

Paige didn’t say anything—just gave her a small nod, the kind that said, That was close. You almost had me.

Azzi exhaled, then nodded back, like she was saying, It’s not over yet.

—-------------

The overtime period was chaotic.

Legs were tired, shots were rushed, mistakes were made.

But Paige?

Paige thrived in chaos.

She hit a contested floater. She found Ice in transition for an easy bucket. She got to the free-throw line and knocked both shots down.

She wasn’t about to lose. Not tonight.

Stanford fought back, Azzi included, but in the final seconds, UConn had the lead.

And when the buzzer finally rang, when the game was over, when Paige turned to find her teammates rushing toward her, all she could do was grin.

They won.

And yet—

Her eyes still searched for Azzi.

—-------------

Azzi sighed, running a hand through her hair as she sat on the Stanford bench, still catching her breath.

They’d had it. She had it. That shot should have gone in.

“Az,” Caroline nudged her, handing her a water bottle. “Shake it off. You played great.”

Azzi gave her a half-smile. “Not great enough.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, don’t start. You know you were good.”

Azzi hummed noncommittally, but her thoughts were already somewhere else.

Or rather, on someone else.

Because as she looked across the court, she found Paige—standing near half-court, still sweaty from the game, still glowing from the win—watching her.

Their eyes met. 

For a second, neither moved.

Then, slowly, Paige tilted her head.

A silent question.

Azzi hesitated.

Then—She stood.

Caroline groaned. “Oh, come on.”

But Azzi was already walking. Toward Paige. Azzi didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

Her team had just lost. She should’ve been heading to the locker room, debriefing with her coaches, cooling down. But instead, her feet carried her toward Paige, drawn in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Paige, for her part, didn’t move—just stood there, watching Azzi approach with an unreadable expression.

When Azzi finally stopped in front of her, neither of them spoke right away. The sounds of the arena—teammates talking, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, the low hum of the crowd still lingering—faded into the background.

Paige shifted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “So… you almost had me.”

Azzi huffed a quiet laugh. “Almost.”

Paige tilted her head. “What happened?”

Azzi crossed her arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “I don’t know, maybe a certain someone was playing really well.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “A certain someone, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight back the small smile.

For a moment, it was just them.

Then, a voice cut through the moment.

“P, come on! Locker room!”

Paige barely glanced over her shoulder. “One sec!”

When she turned back, Azzi had her hands on her hips, head shaking. “You should probably go.”

Paige exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah.” But she didn’t move.

Azzi hesitated, then glanced around before lowering her voice. “Hey, um… were you serious about last night?”

Paige frowned. “Serious about what?”

Azzi shifted on her feet. “About wanting to hang out?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, slow and smug. “Are you saying you wanna hang out?”

Azzi’s face heated instantly. “I—”

Paige laughed, nudging her playfully. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She leaned in slightly, just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch. “But yeah. I meant it.”

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile.

Paige took a step back, still looking at her like she was waiting for something.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe I wouldn’t hate hanging out.”

Paige’s grin widened. “Wow. High praise.”

Azzi groaned. “Paige—”

“Alright, alright,” Paige interrupted, laughing as she took a step backward. “I’ll text you.”

Azzi exhaled. “Okay.”

Paige gave her one last lingering glance before jogging off toward the tunnel, leaving Azzi standing there, heart hammering in her chest.

She barely heard Caroline’s voice from behind her.

“Oh. My. God.”

Azzi groaned. “Caroline—”

“You like her.”

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands.

What had she just gotten herself into?

—-------------

Later that day, Azzi had sat on the edge of her bed, phone in her hands, staring at the screen like it might give her an answer.

Caroline was in the bathroom, probably taking her sweet time with her post-game routine, which left Azzi alone with her thoughts. Too much time with her thoughts.

She should just text Paige. It wasn’t that deep. Paige said she wanted to hang out. Azzi was just… giving her the opportunity.

So why was she overthinking it?

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, and finally typed out a message.

Azzi: You still up?

Paige’s reply came almost instantly.

Paige: For you? Always.

Azzi felt her face heat.

Azzi: That’s so corny.

Paige: And yet, you’re still texting me.

Azzi groaned, but she was smiling.

She hesitated for a second, then typed—

Azzi: Wanna come over?

She stared at the message for half a second too long before she hit send.

The read receipt popped up immediately. Then—

Paige: Be there in five.

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

Oh.

—-------------

A knock sounded at the door exactly four minutes later.

Azzi didn’t even have time to prepare herself. She just took a breath, stood up, and opened the door.

And there was Paige, hoodie on, hair damp from her post-game shower, smirking like she knew exactly what she was doing to Azzi’s heart rate.

“Hey.”

Azzi huffed a small laugh. “You don’t waste time, huh?”

Paige shrugged. “You invited me. I’m just being polite.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but stepped aside to let her in.

Paige walked in easily, like she belonged there, glancing around. “Where’s your roommate?”

“Bathroom,” Azzi said, closing the door. “Probably taking forever.”

Paige smirked. “Perfect.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Perfect for what?”

Paige just plopped down on Azzi’s bed like she owned the place, leaning back on her hands. “For uninterrupted bonding time, obviously.”

Azzi snorted but sat next to her.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Then—

“I can’t believe I missed that shot,” Azzi muttered, more to herself than anything.

Paige tilted her head. “It was a good look.”

Azzi sighed. “Didn’t go in, though.”

Paige nudged her knee against Azzi’s. “That’s basketball.”

Azzi looked at her. “You don’t miss those.”

Paige smiled, but it was softer. “I do.”

Azzi didn’t know what to say to that.

Silence settled over them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt too comfortable.

Azzi glanced at Paige, catching the way she was watching her, something unreadable in her expression.

Her heartbeat picked up.

“What?” Azzi asked.

Paige shrugged. “Nothing.” But she didn’t look away.

Azzi suddenly felt very aware of how close they were sitting. On the way Paige’s knee was still resting against hers. Of the fact that Caroline could walk in at any second.

And yet—

She didn’t move away.

Azzi should’ve moved.

She could’ve moved.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she held Paige’s gaze, her heartbeat drumming steadily in her ears. Paige didn’t look away either, didn’t fidget or back off. She just stayed there, eyes flickering between Azzi’s like she was waiting for something.

Azzi swallowed. “You—”

The bathroom door handle turned.

Azzi jumped back like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, shifting to sit up straight just as Caroline walked out.

Caroline froze mid-step.

Her gaze flickered between Azzi and Paige, taking in the way they were sitting far too close on the bed. Her eyebrows raised slightly, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything right away.

Paige, completely unfazed, leaned back on her hands again. “Sup, Caroline.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Why are you in our room?”

Paige smirked. “Azzi invited me.”

Azzi shot her a ‘seriously?’ look, but Paige just grinned.

Caroline’s eyes stayed on Azzi, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Huh.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “What?”

Caroline shrugged, but the look in her eyes was way too knowing. “Nothing. Just… interesting.”

Azzi groaned. “There’s nothing interesting going on.”

Caroline hummed like she didn’t believe that for a second. “Right.”

Paige, as if determined to make things worse, casually stretched her arms over her head and said, “We were bonding.”

Caroline snorted. “Is that what they call it now?”

Azzi buried her face in her hands. “Caroline—”

Caroline held up her hands in mock innocence. “Hey, don’t let me stop you.” She grabbed something from her suitcase, then gave them one last pointed look before heading to the door. “Just… behave.”

Azzi groaned louder. “You’re the worst.”

Caroline just laughed, shutting the door behind her.

The second she was gone, Paige turned to Azzi, grinning. “Well. That wasn’t awkward at all.”

Azzi groaned, flopping back against the bed. “She definitely thinks something’s going on.”

Paige lay down beside her, resting her hands on her stomach. “And?”

Azzi turned her head, giving her a look. “And nothing is going on.”

Paige hummed, looking entirely too smug. “If you say so.”

Azzi rolled onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow. “You are so annoying.”

Paige smiled up at her. “And yet, you invited me.”

Azzi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I should’ve just gone to sleep.”

Paige smirked. “Too late now.”

Silence settled between them again.

This time, it was different.

Azzi was very aware of the way Paige was lying next to her, how close they were, how Paige’s gaze had softened just a little.

Paige spoke first. “You’re not actually mad, right?”

Azzi sighed. “No.”

Paige smiled, like she knew that already.

Azzi hesitated, then—before she could second-guess herself—she reached out and flicked Paige’s forehead.

Paige jerked back, laughing. “What was that for?”

Azzi smirked. “For being a menace.”

Paige grinned, rubbing her forehead dramatically. “Wow. I come all the way here, just to be attacked.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t fight back the smile tugging at her lips.

She wasn’t sure what this was, exactly.

But whatever it was, she kind of didn’t want it to end.

—-------------

The room felt quieter now. Not in an awkward way, but in a way that made Azzi hyper-aware of everything. The way Paige’s breathing was steady beside her. The way her arm was just barely brushing Azzi’s. The way Paige had turned her head slightly, watching her like she was trying to figure something out.

Azzi should’ve moved. She should’ve said something to break the moment, shift the air back to something light. But she didn’t. She stayed right where she was, eyes locked with Paige’s, as the tension slowly curled between them, thick and impossible to ignore.

Paige was the first to speak, voice softer than before. “You’re quiet.”

Azzi swallowed. “I am quiet.”

Paige let out a small chuckle, but she didn’t look away. “Not always.”

Azzi’s heart was pounding now. She forced herself to shrug. “Maybe you just make me quiet.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh?”

Azzi realized exactly what she had said a second too late. Her face burned. “That’s not—”

Paige shifted then, rolling onto her side so she was facing Azzi completely. Their faces were way too close now. Azzi could see every detail—the flicker of amusement in Paige’s eyes, the way her smirk softened into something unreadable, the way her fingers twitched slightly against the comforter like she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if she should.

Azzi felt frozen.

She had never thought about this—about Paige—like this before. At least, not in a way she let herself acknowledge.

But right now?

Right now, she was thinking about it. A lot.

Her breath hitched slightly as Paige’s fingers finally moved, just the faintest brush against her own hand. It wasn’t even really a touch, just there, a question waiting for an answer.

Azzi could answer.

All she had to do was move her hand just a little closer.

Before she could, Paige spoke again—quieter this time. “I can stay a little longer. If you want.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Stay.”

Paige smiled, small but real, and relaxed back against the bed again. This time, she didn’t shift away. Neither did Azzi.

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with something new. Something unspoken.

And for the first time, Azzi didn’t feel the need to fill it with words.

She just let it be.

—-------------

The quiet stretched between them, but neither of them moved away.

Azzi was aware of Paige—of every little shift, every breath, the warmth radiating from where their arms were still barely touching. She knew she should say something, lighten the moment before it turned into something else, but the words stayed lodged in her throat.

Paige exhaled, then suddenly sat up, reaching for one of the pillows behind her. “Okay, we need to do something before this turns into weird staring contest number three.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”

Paige tossed the pillow into her lap, grinning. “We’re playing ‘This or That.’”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “That’s… so random.”

Paige shrugged, still grinning. “You got something better in mind?”

Azzi thought about it. About the way the room had felt different just seconds ago. About the way her heart was still racing.

“…No,” she admitted.

Paige smirked. “Exactly.” She shifted to face Azzi more fully, stretching her legs out. “Okay. First one—movies or TV shows?”

Azzi hummed. “Movies.”

Paige nodded approvingly. “Good choice. I was worried you were about to say something crazy like ‘reality TV.’”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I have taste.”

Paige grinned. “Debatable.”

Azzi shoved her shoulder lightly, but Paige just laughed.

Paige tilted her head, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Okay. Next one—sweet or savory?”

Azzi didn’t even have to think about it. “Sweet.”

Paige smirked. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Azzi frowned. “What does that mean?”

Paige shrugged, all innocent. “Nothing.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, but Paige just shot her a playful wink before continuing.

They went back and forth like that, the game carrying them through easy laughter and teasing until the tension from before had settled into something softer, something easier.

At some point, Paige shifted closer, her knee knocking against Azzi’s. Neither of them moved away.

Azzi found herself watching Paige more than she probably should’ve—watching the way her face lit up when she talked, the way she leaned in when she was really listening, the way her fingers tapped idly against her leg when she was thinking.

Azzi was so distracted by it that she almost missed Paige’s next question.

Paige grinned, eyes glinting with something mischievous. “Okay, final one—truth or dare?”

Azzi hesitated, suddenly very aware of how close they were. “…Truth.”

Paige leaned in, just a little. “What’s something you’re too scared to admit?”

Azzi’s breath caught.

The playfulness was still there, but beneath it was something else, something heavier. Paige was watching her now, really watching her, and Azzi knew—knew—this wasn’t just about the game anymore.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

She could lie. Laugh it off. Shift the moment back to something safe.

Or—

Azzi inhaled slowly, her gaze locked with Paige’s. “…I think I kind of like this. You.”

Paige didn’t blink.

Then, slowly, a smile tugged at her lips—this time softer, more real.

“Good,” she murmured.

And then, without thinking, she reached for Azzi’s hand.

Azzi let her.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi didn’t either.

The voices in the hall were loud, and the knock on the door was insistent, but neither of them reacted right away. The air between them still felt too charged, the space too small, their hands still too warm from where they’d just been touching.

Azzi swallowed, eyes flickering toward the door. “It’s Caroline,” she murmured, like Paige didn’t already know.

Paige exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Of course it’s Caroline.”

Another knock. “Azzi?” Caroline called. “Are you still up?”

Paige smirked slightly, lowering her voice. “You could just ignore her.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

Paige shifted, turning more toward her, resting an arm against the pillow beside Azzi’s head. “Or,” she said, voice dropping just slightly, “you could tell her you’re busy.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

She knew Paige was teasing—mostly. But there was something else in the way she said it, something slow and deliberate, something that made Azzi way too aware of how little space there was between them.

The knock came again, more impatient this time. “Azzi, I know you’re awake.”

Azzi hesitated for half a second longer before finally calling out, “I’m good, Caroline. Go to sleep.”

Silence.

Then—

A muffled hmm from the other side of the door, followed by fading footsteps.

Azzi let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing.

Paige, however, was watching her with something dangerously close to amusement. “So you did ignore her.”

Azzi turned back toward her, raising an eyebrow. “I told her to go to sleep.”

Paige grinned. “Same thing.”

Azzi shook her head, but she didn’t argue. She couldn’t, not when Paige was still right there, still looking at her like this was some kind of game—one she was very good at.

Slowly, Paige settled back against the bed, not moving away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Paige exhaled, stretching her arms over her head before dropping them back down. “You know,” she said casually, “it’s kinda cold in here.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “It is not cold.”

Paige turned her head toward her, expression all innocent. “You sure?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”

Paige hummed, shifting again—this time just slightly closer. “Well… I could warm up a little if we—” she paused, like she was testing the words in her mouth before finishing with a teasing lilt, “—cuddled.”

Azzi’s brain short-circuited.

Paige was smirking now, but there was something almost shy behind it, like she wasn’t sure what Azzi would say.

Azzi could tease her back, make some joke about her just wanting an excuse to be closer.

Or—

“…Okay,” Azzi murmured before she could second-guess herself.

Paige blinked, like she hadn’t actually expected her to agree that easily.

Then, her smirk softened into something else entirely.

She lifted the blanket slightly in invitation, and Azzi hesitated for just a second before shifting closer, letting Paige tuck her in against her.

It was warm. Warmer than she expected.

Paige let out a content sigh, her chin resting lightly against the top of Azzi’s head. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Azzi could feel her heartbeat in her throat. “Not bad,” she admitted quietly.

Paige’s arms tightened just slightly around her. “Good,” she murmured.

Azzi closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth, into Paige.

And this time, she didn’t overthink it.

The space between them kept shrinking.

Neither of them moved much, not at first, just small shifts—adjustments that should’ve been insignificant but somehow weren’t. Paige’s fingers had started trailing, grazing slow, absentminded patterns against the exposed skin at Azzi’s waist. Light, careful, like she wasn’t even thinking about it.

But Azzi felt it.

She felt every touch, every shift, every quiet inhale Paige took.

She wasn’t sure when she started touching back. Maybe it had been when Paige had readjusted, when their legs tangled naturally, when Azzi had let her fingers rest against Paige’s forearm, just to see what she’d do.

Paige hadn’t pulled away.

If anything, she had leaned in further.

Azzi’s fingers traced higher, up the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, feeling the warmth of her skin underneath. It was easy, so easy, like she was just following the natural pull between them.

Paige exhaled slowly, her breath barely grazing Azzi’s cheek.

Then she moved.

Not much—just enough for her nose to brush against Azzi’s temple, a light touch, a teasing almost-kiss that wasn’t quite a kiss at all.

Azzi swallowed hard.

Paige was testing her, waiting to see if she’d back off.

Azzi didn’t back off.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, brushing against Paige in return, shifting so their bodies pressed closer together. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat now, steady and strong, just like her own.

Paige’s hand slid lower, her fingertips ghosting over Azzi’s hip before gripping just slightly, like she needed something to hold onto.

Azzi’s breath caught.

The air around them had changed.

She could feel it in the way Paige’s touches lingered longer, in the way her lips parted slightly, in the way neither of them spoke but neither of them moved away.

Paige exhaled, barely above a whisper. “Azzi.”

Azzi felt something snap inside her.

She turned, just enough for their noses to brush again—this time intentional, deliberate. Paige let out a slow, shaky breath.

Then Azzi kissed her.

It was soft at first, cautious, like she was still giving Paige a way out. But Paige didn’t take it.

She answered immediately, pressing in, deepening it. Her hand slid up Azzi’s back, fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie as she pulled her in closer.

Azzi sighed against her lips, melting into it, letting herself sink into the warmth of Paige, the way she kissed her—slow at first, careful, but not hesitant.

Paige kissed like she meant it.

Like she’d been waiting for this just as long as Azzi had.

She shifted again, moving over Azzi slightly, hovering but not quite pinning, like she was fighting the urge to push her back completely. Azzi welcomed the weight of her, the way Paige’s hand skimmed up her side, fingertips teasing against the hem of her hoodie before slipping under—warm, steady, wanting.

Azzi’s own hands found their way to Paige’s hoodie, gripping at the fabric, holding her there, not wanting to lose the moment.

Paige smirked against her lips, like she knew exactly what she was doing to her.

Azzi barely had time to process it before Paige kissed her deeper—slow but firm, teasing but deliberate, parting her lips just slightly, just enough to taste her.

Azzi gasped, her fingers tightening around Paige’s hoodie, and Paige noticed.

She let her hand roam further, fingers tracing the line of Azzi’s spine, slow and intentional, making Azzi shiver against her.

She loved that reaction.

Azzi could tell.

Paige’s lips moved to the corner of her mouth, then down along her jaw, leaving barely-there kisses that made Azzi’s heart pound. She lingered at the base of her throat, her breath hot against Azzi’s skin, like she was thinking about doing more, like she was waiting for Azzi to say something, to stop her—

Then Paige’s phone rang.

The sound shattered the moment instantly.

They both froze.

Paige groaned, dropping her forehead against Azzi’s shoulder. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Azzi tried to catch her breath, tried to ignore the way her skin still tingled from where Paige had been touching her.

Paige finally reached for her phone, flipping it over to see the caller.

KK.

She sighed, answering on speaker. “KK, really?”

KK’s voice was amused, but urgent. “Yeah, really. CD is doing room checks. You might wanna, y’know… not be wherever you are right now.”

Paige shut her eyes, exhaling sharply. “You’re the worst.”

KK laughed. “You’ll thank me later.”

Azzi was still trying to gather her thoughts as Paige hung up.

Their eyes met, the moment still thick between them, heavy with everything that had just happened—and everything that could’ve happened.

Paige smirked, her voice lower now. “Guess that’s my cue.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her lips still tingling, her body still wanting.

She should let Paige go.

But as Paige sat up, hands still resting on Azzi’s waist, fingers still slightly curled against her skin, neither of them moved quite yet.

Because whatever this was—whatever had just started—neither of them were ready to walk away from it.

Not yet.

And maybe… not at all.

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair as she looked at Azzi, still sitting beside her on the bed. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but it was charged, filled with everything that had just happened and everything they hadn’t said yet.

Azzi looked down at her hands, exhaling slowly. “So… that happened.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. It definitely did.”

Azzi bit her lip, glancing up. “I don’t regret it,” she admitted softly.

Paige’s heart skipped. “Me neither.”

Azzi nodded, smiling just slightly. “But… maybe we take things slow?”

Paige felt something ease inside her at that—like she had been hoping for the same thing.

She nodded. “Yeah. Slow sounds good.”

Azzi smiled a little wider now, relief evident in her eyes.

Neither of them moved at first, just sitting there, processing, letting the reality of whatever this was settle between them.

Then Azzi shifted, glancing at the time. “You should probably get back before CD actually catches you.”

Paige groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Are you walking me to the elevator?”

Azzi stood, stretching slightly. “Yeah. I guess I can make sure you get there in one piece.”

Paige grinned, nudging her shoulder as they made their way toward the door.

As they stepped into the hallway, Azzi reached out first, hooking her pinky around Paige’s without a word.

Paige glanced down, a slow smile spreading across her face, before she gently squeezed back.

They walked in comfortable silence, their pinkies still intertwined as they made their way toward the elevator.

The moment they stepped inside, Paige couldn’t help but glance around, a smirk playing on her lips. “Full circle moment, huh?”

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “Yeah. Guess this is where it all started.”

Paige tilted her head, studying her for a second. Then, before she could overthink it, she leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Azzi’s lips.

Azzi blinked in surprise, but then she smiled, leaning her head slightly against Paige’s shoulder.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out, their hands naturally finding each other again, pinkies still locked as they walked down the hallway.

As they stood outside Paige’s hotel room, neither of them moved to leave just yet. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, just thick with something unspoken—something neither of them wanted to break just yet.

Azzi’s fingers played with the edge of Paige’s sleeve, her touch light but lingering. “Guess this is goodnight,” she murmured, voice softer than usual.

Paige exhaled, her hand finding Azzi’s waist, pulling her in gently. “Yeah… I guess it is.”

They didn’t hesitate this time. Paige leaned in just as Azzi tilted her head, their lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t hesitant—just warm, unspoken words passing between them with every second they held on.

Then—

Click.

The door swung open.

“Ohhhhhh my God.”

Paige and Azzi jolted apart, whipping their heads toward the source of the interruption.

KK stood there, wide-eyed and absolutely gleeful, her mouth hanging open like she had just walked in on the greatest plot twist of all time.

Azzi brought a hand up to her mouth, stifling a laugh, while Paige groaned, rubbing a hand down her face.

KK beamed. “No, no, don’t mind me, go ahead! I was so enjoying the show.”

Paige shot her a glare. “KK, please.”

Azzi chuckled beside her, shaking her head.

KK crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Nah, nah, don’t stop on my account,” she teased. “I mean, I did call this, but damn. Y’all really went from elevator buddies to this real quick, huh?”

Paige groaned louder. “KK, shut up.”

Azzi laughed softly, nudging Paige’s arm. “I should go,” she murmured.

Paige sighed, ignoring KK’s smug expression as she turned to Azzi, reaching for her one last time. “Yeah. But—” She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her in for a hug.

Azzi hugged her back just as tightly, her chin resting briefly on Paige’s shoulder before they slowly pulled away.

They lingered for a second, eyes meeting—then Paige leaned in, stealing one last quick, soft kiss before letting go.

Azzi smiled, squeezing Paige’s hand briefly before stepping back. “Goodnight, Paige.”

Paige barely had time to respond before Azzi turned and walked down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

She stood there, stuck in place, completely in awe.

Behind her, KK let out the loudest laugh.

“Ohhhh, dude. You’re so gone for her.”

Paige turned, shooting her a look. “I hate you.”

KK just grinned, stepping aside so Paige could finally walk into the room. “Nah, you love me. Just not as much as you love her.”

Paige threw a pillow at her.

She could still feel the warmth of Azzi’s lips against hers.

As Paige settled in, her phone buzzed.

Azzi: I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.

Paige smiled, her heart doing a little flip as she typed back.

Paige: Me too. Let’s do it again when we can.

Azzi’s reply came almost instantly.

Azzi: Yeah. I’d like that.

Paige stared at her screen for a moment, then shut off the light, still grinning like an idiot.

Yeah.

She’d definitely like that.

[cosmiclily]

teehee hii again - i noticed that u had a caitlyn request and omg do i have requests 🤭

im thinking ofc x fem reader, could u do like university or college?? some sorta sport element amddd here's the best bit. caitlyn after training every morning and ungodly hours goes to this coffee house and every morning, there's this cute girl barista who takes her order and it gets to the point that she has her order ready for her already. and Caitlyn is smooth and flirty and barista is like flirty but more shy. ok one more thing - they would exchange socials and like and comment on stories and posts. THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH your fics acct make my day i love youuu

💐 - some flowers

morning shift (derogatory)

✰ caitlyn x f!reader

wc: 4.8k

notes: i’ve been trying to post this for AGES, the app kept crashing and my computer wasn’t turning on 😭😭😭 how have you guys been?

Getting the morning shift and having to wake up at five in the morning was far from ideal. In fact, it was the last thing you ever wanted to do. Dragging yourself out of bed, forcing yourself into the shower, and getting dressed while barely conscious was pure torture. You didn’t just feel like a zombie—you looked like one too.

But all of that became worth it the moment she walked into the coffee shop.

A goddess in tiny training shorts, a jacket so tight it perfectly accentuated her waist, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Every morning, like clockwork, she’d rush in, order her stupid green juice and iced americano, and somehow make suffering through the early shift feel like a blessing.

You would take this shift for the rest of your life if it meant getting to see her.

And today, just like every other morning, Caitlyn Kiramman strolled in, hair slightly messy from her run, cheeks flushed from the cold. But what really sent a jolt through your sleep-deprived body was the way her lips curled into a teasing smile as she approached the counter.

“Good morning,” she said, leaning against the counter ever so slightly. “The usual, please. And maybe… a smile from my favorite barista?”

You nearly choked on your own breath.

A smile? From her favorite barista?

You scrambled to plaster the biggest, most natural-looking smile on your face (which, given the ungodly hour, wasn't easy). “Of course,” you said smoothly, ignoring how your heart was now hammering in your chest. “That’ll cost you extra, though.”

Caitlyn chuckled, handing over her money, her fingers brushing against yours for a second too long to be an accident. “Worth it.”

She took a seat at her usual table, and as she walked away, you shamelessly let your eyes trail after her, taking in the way those tiny shorts hugged her ass perfectly.

“You should just give her your number, you know?” your coworker commented, picking up a cup beside you. “She comes in every day, flirts with you, and you just stand there grinning like an idiot. Write your number on her cup. Do something.It’s getting a little pathetic.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you started preparing her drink. “Caitlyn Kiramman is way out of my league. I’m nothing but a mere mortal in her goddess realm.”

Your coworker snorted. “Okay, poet, but have you considered that maybe—just maybe—she likes her coffee a little more than usual because of the person making it?”

That made you pause for a split second before you shook it off. No way. There was no chance in hell that Caitlyn Kiramman—beautiful, confident, rich Caitlyn Kiramman—would ever look twice at you.

So, as always, you just wrote one of your cheesy pickup lines on her cup, adding a little smiley face next to it, and went on with your day like it didn’t mean anything.

You went to class, dozed off between lectures, ate lunch half-aware of your surroundings, and then finally made your way home, exhausted. But even as you lay in bed, you couldn’t stop yourself from replaying your morning interaction with Caitlyn. The way her fingers had brushed against yours, the way she smiled when she read your note—was it just your sleep-deprived brain making things up, or was there something there?

The next morning, there you were again. Five a.m., standing under the shower, letting the warm water run over you as you took the slowest shower of your life. Your mind was occupied with one thing and one thing only—what line you were going to scribble on Caitlyn’s cup today. And, if you were being completely honest, a tiny part of you was also daydreaming about what outfit she’d be wearing.

Would it be the black shorts today? Or maybe the navy blue ones that hugged her just right? Would she zip up her jacket, or would you get a glimpse of the tight sports bra underneath?

You shook your head, forcing yourself back to reality and going to work. You need help.

For some unknown reason, you felt extra antsy today. Your stomach was fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with hunger, and the anticipation was getting to you. So when the clock hit 6:45, you automatically started making Caitlyn’s drinks, your hands moving on autopilot. You blended her green juice, strained it, and set up the coffee to brew, wondering if today she would actually stick to her usual order or throw you off by asking for something different.

“What are you doing?” your coworker asked, staring at you like you had lost your mind. The coffee shop was empty, the lights still dim, and not a single customer had walked in yet.

“Making Caitlyn’s drinks” you replied simply.

They frowned. “Uh… there’s no one in line.”

“She comes in at seven sharp every morning,” you explained casually, still focused on your task. “It takes me 10 minutes to blend and strain her juice and for the coffee to finish brewing. That leaves me with five minutes to think of something to write and cup her drinks so they’re still fresh.”

You said it like it was nothing. Like it was a perfectly logical, totally normal thing to be this dedicated to one customer’s order.

Your coworker just stared at you for a long moment before sighing, shaking their head. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

You shrugged, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a cup. “If this is crazy, I don’t want to be sane.”

They snorted, rolling their eyes. “Alright, Romeo, at this point, you might as well just ask her out.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

But then, at exactly 7 a.m., there she was.

Earbuds in, navy blue jacket, black shorts, high ponytail—looking like she had just stepped out of a magazine. She had that effortless kind of beauty, the kind that made the world slow down for a second, the kind that made you forget how exhausted you were.

You barely had time to compose yourself before she was standing in front of the register, and you forced your brain to function.

“Good morning, the usual?” you asked, maybe a little too eagerly, but could anyone blame you?

Caitlyn pulled out her earbuds, flashing you that smile that had you questioning every life decision you had ever made. “Certainly a good morning now that I saw you.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Did she—did she just say—?

“And yes, please, the usual,” she added casually, as if she hadn’t just dropped that line like it was nothing.

You scrambled to punch in her order, hoping she didn’t notice the heat creeping up your neck. “Right—yeah, coming right up.”

As you handed her the cups, her fingers brushed against yours again, and this time, you swore she did it on purpose. She glanced at the side of the cup, reading the little note you had scribbled there:

Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.

A soft chuckle left her lips, and she shook her head, amused. “This one was bad.”

You grinned. “But did it work?”

She looked up at you, something playful in her gaze. “Maybe.”

And with that, she took her drinks and walked to her usual table, leaving you standing there, gripping the register like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Your coworker, who had been watching the entire interaction with barely concealed amusement, leaned in. “So, uh… still think she’s out of your league?”

You swallowed hard, eyes still on Caitlyn as she sipped her coffee, her lips curled into a smirk.

Yeah. You were so screwed.

──────────────────────

On a random Thursday night, just as you were winding down and nearly ready for bed, your phone pinged with a notification.

@CKiramman followed you.

You stared at your screen like it had just grown a second head.

For a moment, you thought you were seeing things. Maybe your sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on you. But no—the notification was real. You picked up your phone, unlocked it, and there it was. Caitlyn Kiramman had actually followed you on Instagram.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you clicked on her profile. Her account wasn’t private, which meant you could see everything—pictures from her morning runs, candid shots of her with friends, a few elegant photos from what looked like fancy Galas (because, of course, she was that kind of rich), and even a couple of casual selfies. You scrolled down absently, then snapped yourself out of it.

Focus.

Had she searched for you? Did she somehow already know your name? Or—your stomach flipped—had she actually been interested enough to ask someone?

Before you could spiral too much, another notification popped up.

@CKiramman liked your photo.

And not just any photo.

One from three months ago.

Your eyes widened. Oh, she scrolled.

Your mind raced. Should you message her? Follow her back? Ignore it and pretend you weren’t currently gripping your phone like your life depended on it?

Before you could decide, another message appeared.

Caitlyn Kiramman: So, are you ever going to give me your number, or do I have to keep deciphering bad pickup lines on my coffee cups?

Your mouth fell open.

Holy. Shit.

You stared at the message, your brain short-circuiting.

Caitlyn Kiramman had followed you, stalked your profile, liked an old photo, and now she was flirting with you in your messages.

What alternate universe had you fallen into?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but every possible response sounded either too eager or too indifferent. You needed something cool, something casual—something that didn’t scream I’ve been lowkey in love with you since the first time you walked into my coffee shop in tiny shorts.

After what felt like an eternity (but was actually 37 seconds, not that you were counting), you finally typed back:

You: You decipher them? I thought you just rolled your eyes and ignored my genius.

The little “typing” bubble appeared almost instantly.

Caitlyn Kiramman: Oh, don’t get me wrong. Some of them are truly awful. But they’re entertaining.

You grinned.

You: That bad, huh? Should I start charging extra for the comedy?

Caitlyn Kiramman: I think you’ve already overcharged me. Every morning I walk in expecting just coffee, and instead, I leave with a new terrible joke and a distraction for the rest of the day.

Your heart did an actual flip.

You stared at her message, rereading it at least five times before you processed what she was saying. A distraction for the rest of the day? Was she serious? Was she just teasing? Was Caitlyn Kiramman really implying that she thought about youafter she left?

Before you could think too hard about it, another message popped up.

Caitlyn Kiramman: So? Are you going to give me your number, or do I have to find another way to keep myself entertained?

You exhaled sharply, fingers shaking slightly as you typed back:

You: Wouldn’t want you to suffer without my daily wisdom. (xxx-xxx-xxxx) Use it wisely.

Within seconds, another notification popped up.

Unknown Number: Now I can finally place my coffee orders in advance.

Unknown Number: Also, I might use it for other things.

You swallowed hard, rereading her message.

Other things.

Yeah. You were so screwed. And maybe just a little bit in love.

──────────────────────

To say you spent the whole night texting Caitlyn would be an understatement. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jumping from topic to topic until you realized it was waaaay past your bed time. She told you about her upcoming track competition, and somewhere in the middle of it, she casually invited you to come cheer her on. (Which, obviously, you accepted before she even finished asking.)

By the time morning rolled around, you were running on fumes—more tired than usual, but weirdly, it didn’t matter. Because today, you weren’t just going to see Caitlyn from behind the coffee counter. You were actually going to talk to her and that alone had your energy levels shooting up to a hundred.

So, naturally, you got extra ready.

You actually took your time in the mirror, making sure you looked good. Not that Caitlyn had ever seen you at your best before (you were always half-dead on your morning shifts), but today was different. Today, you wanted to impress her.

And apparently, it showed.

“Okay, where’s the event?” your coworker asked the second you clocked in, giving you a once-over. “And why do you look nice today?”

“Oh, nothing…” you said, trying to sound casual as you adjusted your apron. “Just, you know… Caitlyn Kiramman not only followed me, stalked my profile, liked a picture from three months ago, but also slid into my DMs… and I gave her my number.”

Your coworker froze.

Then, in the most dramatic way possible, they grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “WHAT?”

You laughed, swatting them away. “I’m serious.”

They gawked at you. “You mean Caitlyn Kiramman—the woman you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months—the actual goddess who walks in here every morning—is now texting you?”

“Yep.”

“And flirting with you?”

“Seems like it.”

They stared at you for another second before groaning. “Oh my God. I take back everything I said. You’re not pathetic. You’re a legend.”

You smirked, grabbing a cup as you started prepping Caitlyn’s usual drinks. “Glad you finally see it.”

Your coworker sighed dramatically. “You better not mess this up.”

“I have no plans to, thank you very much.”

But then… 7 a.m. hit. And Caitlyn didn’t show up.

7:10. Nothing.

7:30. Still nothing.

Your excitement started to deflate just a little. You glanced at the door between customers, waiting for that familiar navy blue high ponytail to appear, but the minutes kept ticking by, and your carefully prepared drinks were sitting there untouched.

By 7:40, the juice had turned an unsettling shade of green, and the ice in the Americano had completely melted. With a sigh, you had no choice but to dump them out.

Just as you were starting to wonder if maybe last night had been some weird dream, at exactly 7:46, she rushed in.

Cheeks flushed, hair slightly messy, breathing a little heavier—Caitlyn Kiramman looked… flustered.

And God, if that wasn’t the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

The line was long—the morning rush just starting—so she had to wait her turn, and when she finally reached the front, she immediately leaned in, looking at you with something close to guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, shaking her head at herself. “I overslept for the first time in my life. Which, by the way, is very unusual for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. “You? Oversleeping? That is unusual.”

She groaned, covering her face for a second before peeking at you through her fingers. “I know. And I feel terrible. 7 a.m. is our unofficial meeting time, and I—” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what she just said. Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip.

Your smirk grew. “Oh? Our unofficial meeting time?”

Caitlyn blinked. Then, instead of backtracking, she straightened her posture, tilting her head slightly. “Yes,” she said, completely serious. “Our meeting time. And I broke it. Which means I need to make it up to you somehow.”

You leaned on the counter, amused. “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”

She hummed, pretending to think about it before giving you a small smirk. “Well, for starters… I’ll let you pick my drink today.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t think I want the usual,” she said casually, resting her elbows on the counter. “What do you recommend? I want to try something new.”

You stared at her for a second. Caitlyn had been ordering the same thing every morning since the day you met her. Now she was just… trusting you to pick something for her?

“Oh wow,” you said, placing a hand on your chest mockingly. “This is a big responsibility. What if I mess it up?”

She grinned. “Then I guess I’ll just have to punish you.”

You choked on your own saliva.

Caitlyn laughed, absolutely delighted by your reaction. “Relax,” she teased, her voice dropping just a little lower. “I just meant I’d make you remake it if it’s terrible.”

You swallowed hard, regaining whatever composure you had left. “Right. Of course. That’s what you meant.”

She winked. “Obviously.”

──────────────────────

After that, your routine changed.

At exactly 7 a.m., Caitlyn would walk in, looking effortlessly gorgeous, and instead of ordering her usual, she’d lean on the counter and ask, “What’s on the menu today?”

And every morning, you’d surprise her with something new. A different coffee, a new kind of tea, a random experimental drink that sometimes turned out great and sometimes… not so much. (She still drank them, though—grinning at you over the rim of her cup like she secretly enjoyed watching you squirm.)

You spent as much time talking as the morning rush allowed, stealing moments between customers, exchanging teasing glances, and sharing stories that made the mundane mornings feel electric.

And then there were the texts.

At first, they were casual—updates on her day, comments on whatever drink you’d made for her, the occasional complaint about a professor or a late-night craving for coffee. But soon, they became… constant.

Messages during lunch. During her breaks. Late at night when you were both too stubborn to sleep.

You talked about everything.

Her childhood. Your family. Her ridiculous rich-person hobbies (which, yes, included knowing how to shoot, for some bizarre reason). The names of her childhood dogs. The fact that she still slept with a ridiculous amount of pillows.

There were no awkward pauses, no forced conversations. Just endless back-and-forth banter, teasing, and something elselingering between the words that neither of you addressed.

Until one night, when your phone buzzed with a notification:

Cait 💙: So, when are you going to ask me out on a proper date? Or do I have to do everything in this relationship?

You blinked.

Stared.

Read it again.

You: Relationship?

The little typing bubble appeared instantly.

Cait 💙: Oh, my bad. Did you think all this was just friendly customer service?

You gawked at your screen.

Was she serious? Was she just teasing? Was this a test?

You: I mean… technically, I do give excellent customer service.

Cait 💙: Uh-huh. And do you text all your customers at midnight?

You: Only the pretty ones.

You hesitated for half a second before hitting send.

And then, before you could panic about that message, she replied:

Cait 💙: So just me, then.

You: Yeah. Just you.

The typing bubble appeared again.

Then it stopped.

Then it started again.

Your heart was practically in your throat.

Cait 💙: Friday. 8 p.m. I’m picking you up. Wear something cute.

──────────────────────

You could not wait for Friday.

And, apparently, the universe had something against you, because the week felt twice as long as usual.

Every hour dragged. Every class felt like a never-ending lecture. Every shift at work felt excruciatingly slow, even with Caitlyn still dropping by at 7 a.m. sharp, flashing you that smug little smirk like she knew you were impatiently counting down the days.

By Friday afternoon, you had done everything you could possibly do to make time pass faster.

Assignments? Finished.

Room? Spotless.

Laundry? Folded.

At one point, you even considered reorganizing your entire closet just to keep yourself busy. But no matter what you did, 8 p.m. refused to get any closer.

You were convinced that if given a few more hours, you could probably find the cure for cancer before the time for your date actually arrived.

You sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Maybe you needed to redo your hair. Or change outfits. You thought you looked good, but what if the lighting in your room had deceived you?

You rushed to the mirror, checking yourself for the tenth time. You turned to the side, then to the other, scrutinizing every detail.

Your outfit was good. Really good. You had picked something that made you feel confident, something that you knew Caitlyn would like. (Not that you had memorized her favorite colors or anything. That would be insane. Definitely not something you had done.)

Your hair? Also fine. Your face? Fine.

So why the hell did you feel like a mess?

You groaned, flopping onto your back dramatically. “I’m gonna die before 8 p.m.,” you mumbled to no one in particular.

Your phone buzzed.

You launched yourself up, grabbing it instantly.

Cait 💙: Excited?

You bit your lip, debating how to answer. Be cool. Be casual. Don’t let her know you’ve been losing your mind all day.

You: Meh. It’s just a date. Not like I’ve been counting down the minutes or anything.

Cait 💙: You’re terrible at lying.

You scoffed, shaking your head.

You: Am not.

Cait 💙: Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself.

Cait 💙: I’ll be there in 30. Be ready, sweetheart.

Suddenly, your heart was pounding.

Oh. Oh, shit.

This was real.

You were going on a date with Caitlyn tonight.

──────────────────────

Caitlyn picked you up in a sleek, undeniably fancy car. You had no idea what kind it was—cars weren’t exactly your thing—but it looked expensive and smelled like it had never known a day of spilled coffee or fast food wrappers.

But the car was the last thing on your mind.

Because Caitlyn? Caitlyn looked gorgeous.

Her usual high ponytail was gone, replaced with loose waves that framed her face perfectly. She wore a crisp white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her forearms, paired with tailored black slacks and shiny loafers that somehow made her legs look even longer. She was all elegance and confidence—and yet, when she smiled at you, there was still that warmth, that sparkle that made your chest flutter.

“You look… wow,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, your voice almost caught in your throat.

Caitlyn glanced at you, lips tugging into a knowing smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You laughed softly, your nerves settling a little as the car pulled smoothly out of your driveway. “Is this where you tell me we’re going somewhere casual and I’m overdressed?”

She grinned. “Nope. I figured we could both use a night out somewhere a little extra.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you said, glancing over at her again. “You’re dangerously close to making me forget how to form coherent sentences.”

She smirked, eyes still on the road. “That’s the goal.”

You turned to the window, smiling like an idiot, cheeks burning just a little. How was this your life right now?

“How was your day?” Caitlyn asked after a moment, her voice softer now, more intimate—like the initial flirty spark had melted into something quieter and warmer.

You told her about your shift, your overly nosy coworker, and the old lady who insisted that oat milk was a government conspiracy meant to destroy traditional dairy farming. Caitlyn laughed, the sound bubbling out of her so naturally, like she was genuinely enjoying every second with you. And maybe she was.

The conversation flowed effortlessly on the drive to the restaurant—Caitlyn had finally caved and told you where you were going after a little playful prodding—and when you arrived, your jaw nearly hit the floor.

The place was fancy. Not just candlelight-and-linen-napkins fancy, but the kind of fancy where the valet wore white gloves, and the front of the menu didn’t even have prices.

You stepped out of the car slowly, glancing up at the glowing sign and the perfectly manicured entryway. Suddenly, the outfit you had spent hours choosing didn’t feel like quite enough. You smoothed your hands over your clothes and swallowed hard, a flicker of anxiety settling in your chest.

You knew Caitlyn had money. That was never a mystery—everything about her practically whispered old money and prestige. But standing outside this restaurant, with her looking like she’d walked out of a fashion editorial and you feeling like you didn’t quite belong, you couldn’t help the quiet question that crept into your mind:

What does she even see in me?

Caitlyn stepped beside you, noticing the way you hesitated. She gently touched your hand, her fingers brushing yours. “Hey,” she said, catching your eye. “You okay?”

You nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah, just… wasn’t expecting a place like this.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I wanted to take you somewhere special. Not to impress you—just… because I think you deserve something special.”

You blinked at her, your heart doing something traitorous in your chest.

“And for the record,” she added, leaning in just slightly, like she was reading your mind, “you belong exactly here. With me.”

──────────────────────

After that first moment of insecurity, everything fell into place. It didn’t matter that you weren’t used to places like this. It didn’t matter that you felt underdressed or that you had to quietly Google a few words on the menu under the table. None of it mattered, because Caitlyn made you feel welcome—seen. Like you belonged not just at her table, but with her.

She didn’t look at you like you were out of place. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. Every smile, every glance, every gentle brush of her hand across yours grounded you. And with her, this fancy restaurant didn’t feel so intimidating anymore—it felt like a memory you’d want to replay a hundred times.

“So,” Caitlyn said, casually sipping her wine, “I have a track competition coming up—I think I told you about it?”

You nodded, already smiling. “Yeah, you mentioned it.”

“Well, I’d really like you to come,” she said, her voice a little more tentative, like the invitation mattered more than she wanted to admit.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be there,” you grinned. “Front row. With a giant glittery sign that says ‘#1 Caitlyn Fan.’ Maybe I’ll even wear a matching tracksuit.”

She laughed, leaning back in her seat. “Please do. I want pictures.”

“Careful what you wish for,” you teased. “I’m not above going full cheerleader mode.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eyes. “Now that’s something I need to see.”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the table and tilting your head. “Oh yeah? You fantasize about me in a crop top and pom-poms, Kiramman?”

Caitlyn didn’t miss a beat. “Only every night.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter spilling from your lips as she smirked. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’ve been told,” she replied, her voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip. “But you seem brave.”

You stared at her, all trace of joking fading for a beat. Warmth settled in your chest, creeping up your neck. She was looking at you in that way again—the kind that made everything else disappear.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you whispered before your brain could stop your mouth.

Caitlyn’s smile softened. “So are you,” she said, her voice low and honest.

The air between the two of you shifted instantly, thick with something unspoken. Your heart thudded in your chest as warmth crept up your neck, your cheeks flushed—you didn’t know if it was the wine or just the effect of being near Caitlyn.

Then you felt it—her foot slowly sliding up your leg under the table, smooth and deliberate, and your breath caught in your throat. You practically melted in your seat, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table for composure.

Caitlyn was still watching you, eyes darker now, pupils slightly dilated. There was something unreadable in her gaze, something electric.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper, but heavy with suggestion.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding, every nerve ending alive. “Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

She didn’t smile this time—not in the usual teasing way—but there was a curve to her lips that told you she’d been waiting for that answer.

The ride back to her place was quiet but charged, your fingers brushing on the gearshift, the tension between you stretching tighter with every passing second. The moment her door closed behind the two of you, it snapped.

She stepped forward, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you like she’d been holding back all night. There was nothing hesitant now—just heat and hands and the thrum of something real blooming between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, her forehead rested against yours again.

“Still think you don’t belong in my world?” she whispered, her thumb brushing across your lips.

You shook your head, smiling against her touch. “I think I might be exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

──────────────────────

masterlist

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act I

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance (kinda), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: a bit of angst

Word Count: 12,4k

Rating: 18+ (this part is actually kinda chill)

Notes: Just as a warning (?) reader has white hair and white silvery eyes in this story but those are the only physical descriptions I will make, they're kind of part of her magic. Also when I started writing this I totally intended on it being a one-shot but the story got away from me and I decided to split it up into 3 parts. I really hope you enjoy!

Act II

You've been pacing in front of the temple's door ever since the sun set over the mountain, the warm rays slowly being replaced with the brilliant pale moonlight. You keep wringing your hands together and smoothing down any possible wrinkle on your dress, repositioning the diadem perched on your head to make sure it sits perfectly. It's not often you get visitors up in the temple, let alone any your Goddess went out of Her way to warn you about and gave clear instructions to help in any way you could. You can't quite distinguish if the anxiety building inside you is the result of excitement or wariness - possibly a healthy dose of both.

The last time someone climbed these steps had been almost a full decade ago. It was a quite short affair as well since the visitor only needed a book long forgotten in the temple's library. You'd read it multiple times before, and offered it without hesitation, prompting the traveler to thank you and immediately start descending the mountain, going on his way all the while muttering about finally having all the knowledge he needed to achieve his goal. That small interaction served as a reminder of your purpose in this temple, filled you with a sense of accomplishment you usually felt in such situations, but you've been alone in between these walls since then.

After almost four centuries you're more than used to the quiet, to the way your steps echoe in the grand empty space. The loneliness had been a more prominent companion, but even that had come and gone throughout the years. You had no place in the world, nor family or friends waiting for you anymore. All you had left was your duty to the temple. But you're still only fae and the longing for some company catches up to you every once in a while. At times you think you only want the reminder that you're still alive.

There wasn't much to do around the temple either, it magically gave you food and kept itself clean so you didn't even need to bother with that. You could recite every book in the library at this point and you found you weren't the best artist as you tried your hand at painting and sculpting, even music and dancing. The flowers around the temple seemed to grow effortlessly, not even needing you to tend to them either. Even keeping a journal proved inefficient as there was little to write down, the monotony of your life not interesting enough for such a thing. When tasked with guarding the temple, you would never have imagined boredom would end up being your biggest problem.

You still recall the day your hair started turning white and your eyes dulling, losing their color slowly until they turned into the silver, almost white color they were now, mirroring the moonlight. At first your parents thought it could be some disease or even a curse, they were scared for your health and safety beyond measure, but when the Goddess contacted you and sent you the amulet you now wear religiously around your neck, it guided you and your parents to this very temple hidden in the mountains of the Night Court. She then told you Herself what the fates had written for you, presenting you with an oath and sharing her power with you, making you the Keeper of the Moon Temple.

Everything had seemed impossible to believe at first, the time of the Gods had passed millenia ago, it was hard to find someone who could even name any of them anymore, you certainly couldn't at the time. So when you were told what your role in life was going to be you had been completely blindsided, not even knowing what to make of your new occupation, of being trusted with such an important task when you weren't even three decades old.

Truthfully, you expected at least a few people to show up every once in a while, asking for help or guidance. You even prepared yourself for there to be some threats to the temple, but things had been mostly peaceful and quiet, so quiet. You understand why guarding the temple is important, this type of knowledge and power can't ever fall into the wrong hands, the safety of the world depends on it, but sometimes you wonder what your life could have been like if you hadn't been chosen by fate to hold such a heavy burden by yourself.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you feel a presence approaching, used to feeling them pass by unannounced as the temple remains hidden in its protective spell. When it's clear this is the visitor the Goddess had warned you about, as they entered the wards seamlessly, you take a deep calming breath, adjusting the diadem one last time, and open the heavy doors, revealing the temple to the moonlight. As the stairs come into view, you step up to the threshold and clasp your hands together behind your back, waiting to be of help as your Goddess instructed you to.

Distractedly rehearsing your greeting, unused as it was, you almost miss the dark shadows swirling up the milky steps, passing by you and escaping to all corners of the temple before you have time to react. Your head snaps back to follow them, breaking the calming character you were falling into in preparation to fulfill your duty. Some of your power drips down to your fingertips, casting a white glow under your skin, as you study these shadows intently. Not finding any ill intent in them, as strange as they were, some of the tension leaves your body. They simply lay before you, more and more of these wispy shadows gathering together as they swirled around themselves, not paling even a fraction under the bright moonlight or your powers. Strange little things indeed.

You wonder for a moment if this was the visitor the Goddess had mentioned, not knowing what to make of it or how to approach such a situation. She had not specified if the visitor was fae, though you're not so sure how you would be able to help shadows. Before you could embarrass yourself in trying to speak to these creatures, the same presence you felt earlier makes itself known, much closer than before. Looking up at the starry sky, you find strong, dark wings carrying someone directly to the temple, a glimpse of blue shining over their dark form.

This was already the most interesting visitor you've ever had. You'd never had the pleasure of meeting any winged fae before, and, given their reaction to the fae approaching, you were confident the shadows were under their command. Those were definitely even rarer than winged fae - Shadowsingers, you remember them being called.

As they fly down closer to you and the temple, slowly letting the wind guide them, you feel a strange tug on your chest, and then another, this time strong enough that it makes you look down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows. Your confusion only deepens when you notice a bright string connected to your heart, raising your hand to try and touch it. Your fingers pass right through it, as if it wasn't there in the first place, and soon after you try catching it, the string disappears from sight.

You lay a hand down over your chest, feeling your heart beating under your palm. The string was invisible now, but you could still feel it tugging incessantly, as if urging you to look up. You follow its silent command, almost gasping out loud when you find the winged fae a lot closer than you had expected, catching him as he lands with a harsh tud on top of the steps, arms bracing out to maintain his balance as if he isn't quite used to landing yet. The shadows swirling at your feet rush to him, and a bewildered expression takes over his face, likely mirroring your own, as he stares at you, mouth agape.

Wide leathery wings stand behind him, open in a somewhat awkward angle as he stands frozen in place. As the moonlight filters through them you realize they're not quite black as they appeared before, the insides actually have a beautiful crimson hue to them. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they keep cataloging his entire form, taking note of every detail as if it was crucial information. He was covered from head to toe in black leathers, you recognize it as an armor of sorts. It clung to his every muscle, showcasing them as much as it protected him from harm. You find the same blue light from before twinkling in the midst of all the black, studying it closer to find it came from gems scattered across his armor, you're almost certain they hold some of his magic somehow.

Moving up his neck, you find tan skin shining under the moonlight and black hair curling into his forehead softly, locks messy and a little damp from the flight. The stranger also had striking hazel eyes, and you find yourself struggling to not get lost in them, only bringing yourself to break eye contact when you notice the glittery string once more in the corner of your eye, only this time it's connected to his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat as you follow its path slowly, careful not to lose the thin thread once more, finding it leading back to your own heart. You feel another tug, prompting you to look back up at the male in front of you. A hand falls over your heart at the implication, right where you could feel the phantom string had tied itself. Yet another tug confirming your suspicions.

How could this be?

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Azriel wasn't expecting his evening to turn out like this when he was called to Rhys' office. While he knew there was going to be a mission of sorts, he never imagined it would involve a temple no one has ever heard of or a Goddess long forgotten. Even with Amren's knowledge and the old books she found corroborating her words, Azriel was still anticipating coming back to Velaris empty handed. He's flown over these same mountains at least a million times in the five centuries he's been alive, and never once has he noticed a temple or any signs of magic.

The woods under him looked completely untouched as far as he could tell, no one choosing to live so far from the neighboring towns, isolated between the trees and steep mountains. His shadows filtered through the woods in case he missed something from his high position, even if he thought this search was in vain, it didn't mean he wasn't going to give it his best to fulfill his High Lord's order. He felt almost naked without his shadows latching onto his body though, the single companion still perched on his shoulder in order to relay him information not giving him nearly enough coverage to feel at ease when he was so far from home.

Mission and discomfort aside, the wind felt heavenly hitting his skin on this warm summer evening. It had been a while since he was able to fly for this long without dreading his destination as it usually meant he was visiting the Illyrian mountains, the Hewn City or a much more gruesome mission than the one he found himself in at the moment. It also feels good to step away from the full houses he found himself in nowadays. As much as he loved his family, Azriel had always valued his alone time and it was getting harder to find himself completely alone in the midst of missions and the ever growing inner circle.

As he was flying over the edge of the mountain, Azriel was getting ready to make the trip back and throw a very satisfying “I told you so” at his brother's face when his shadows suddenly disappeared right before his eyes. The abruptness of it made him panic for a few seconds, clapping his wings so he was hovering in the same place and was able to study the space ahead of him, trying to feel for any type of ward or shield but coming up empty. He could still feel his shadows, and knew they were alright given how calm the remaining one was as it sat on his shoulder and simply urged him forward, as if confused why he had stopped in the first place.

Azriel trusted his shadows blindly, they had never steered him wrong after all, and so he did as he was told and slowly started moving forward once again. After living for five hundred years surrounded by magic, there isn't much that can surprise the shadowsinger, but he can safely say he's never seen anything like this. He felt his body pass through some sort of gateway, one that went unnoticed by him until now, and as he did his surroundings began changing as if they had only been a mirage before.

In between the trees a path carved in white stone could now be seen, glinting under the moonlight in complete contrast to the rest of the dark woods. As his eyes followed this path, going up stairs of the same stone carved into the side of the mountain, he found a white temple sitting right at the top. It wasn't a huge building by any means, but the white eerie glow it emitted made it impossible to miss had it not been the spell covering it - one that would make the one who kept Velaris safe for centuries pale in comparison - and keeping it hidden from the world and unwanted eyes.

Amren had been right after all, something that happens more often than he would ever care to admit. The Goddess of the Moon still had at least a temple left in this world, leaving it behind when She took to the sky. Not much is known about the old Gods, but Azriel, born and raised in the Night Court, felt himself relax as he looked up at the moon shining above him, not believing this Goddess could be anything but benevolent. She had watched him fly over from Velaris after all, it almost felt like he was guided here.

The entire temple was made of white stone - it appeared to be the same type of stones used for the path and stairs leading up to it, only more polished. There were silver highlights carved into the walls and columns, these glowed with an intensity Azriel had never seen. Most of the roof was a huge skylight, likely so the moon could illuminate Her temple and Her followers could bask in Her brilliant light.

Given the color scheme of the entire building, his shadows were easy enough to spot, which would have been a big problem had he decided on a more covert operation when coming to the temple, he was more than glad he came here in peace. His little companions seemed perfectly content as they swirled around and over themselves right in front of the temple's doors, a few steps from a figure completely clad in white.

Even after finding the temple where he had only seen trees and shrubs before, he couldn't help but feel even more surprised that there was someone inside it. A sudden spark of magic has the shadowsinger moving faster, a gasp catching in his throat when he sees bright, pale light coming from the figure's palms. Even this wasn't enough to send the shadows that would be at the receiving hand of it into alarm, something curious on its own as they were usually as suspicious and careful as their master.

Azriel was already within earshot when the person in front of him decided his shadows posed no threat and the white light disappeared from her hands. At first glance she might have looked like a regular high fae female, but there was a different kind of power flowing through her, as shown by the strange way this light magic manifested itself, something Azriel had never felt before.

Upon flying down closer, his feet almost touching the top of the steps in front of the temple, he realizes she had not been wearing a white hood or veil as he initially thought but her hair was completely white. There was an unnatural element to it as each strand shone under the moonlight, almost rivaling it in its intensity. The floor length dress she wore was of the same color, made of a light, breathable fabric, almost translucent in certain areas, swishing softly in the faint breeze. She had not looked up at him yet, seemingly intrigued as she watched her own chest. Perhaps looking at the pendant she wore around her neck, the magic coming from it could almost be seen in its intensity.

Azriel took this moment to take her in, not knowing what to say since he was the one possibly trespassing. She was absolutely gorgeous, truly mesmerizing in her beauty and demeanor. It was almost impossible to believe she was real, standing right in front of him and not a Goddess walking his dreams. For a moment Azriel wonders if this is truly the Goddess, if She never left the land of the mortals as it was once believed, instead keeping herself safely hidden in these uninhabited mountains, but when she looks up from her necklace, eyes falling on him for the first time, all thoughts evaporate from his mind. White, silvery eyes meet hazel and a sudden rush of inexplicable feelings hit him right in the chest, squeezing his heart tight and taking his breath away. It felt as if the world had broken apart and put itself together, as if everything finally made sense. The only thing he could make sense of was one word, swirling around in his mind and completely taking over every cell on his body. Mate. You were his mate.

In his stupor, Azriel forgets he was still up in the air, wings freezing along with the rest of his body and sending him falling towards the ground. Thankfully, he hadn't been too high up, and was still able to land on his feet, knees only buckling under his weight slightly as he steadied himself. This had to be the most ungraceful landing he's performed since his brothers were training him between giggles and harmless teasing when he first joined the Illyrian camps. If he wasn't so surprised and his brain was able to formulate a single thought, he would be cringing at the fact that you had just witnessed it, his mate had witnessed it.

It takes several moments before he starts catching on to the situation, the ringing in his ears subsiding and the rest of the world re-emerging around you. He hadn't even noticed his shadows had returned to him, ecstatic for their master finally found his equal. Azriel tries to school his features in an attempt to keep at least some dignity, in fear of coming on too strong as well, especially since it seemed you were in the same predicament as him, a curious but stunned expression locked in your beautiful face as you studied him. His stupid Illyrian senses make him flare out his wings a little before he has the chance to fully take control of his body. When your gaze finds his once more, his heart stalls in his chest before speeding up at an alarming rate. You haven't even spoken a single word to him, but his heart already sang for yours.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The oath you made before your Goddess rushes into your head as you study the handsome male in front of you. How could this be possible? The fates had decided your life lied within the temple long before you were born, so why give you a mate? A bond like this is extremely rare, you'd never seen one in your entire lifetime, albeit you lived isolated from the world for most of it. Still, this was something only a few were blessed with, a bond stronger than what mortal minds could even comprehend, so why waste it on you? Could the fates and the Mother be this cruel?

You can't even bring yourself to hope he didn't notice the brilliant bond forming between you - an angry twist pulling at your heartstrings when you dare to think of hiding it - considering the expression on his face and his silence, it seems he's already more than aware of it. All it took was a single glance and it had fallen into place for both of you.

In the midst of the rushing thoughts invading your brain, you try to remember what you've read about mating bonds. There was a book talking about them in the library, of this much you were sure, but its contents were evading your racing mind.

Gaze falling to the floor, trying to sober up from what you imagine to be one of the most intense occurrences anyone could go through, you almost miss the step he takes towards you. The surprise of it makes you flinch slightly, but it was enough for him to notice and take the same step back, wings coiling up tightly to his back and shadows moving to cover him almost completely, excitement wiped off his face and replaced with a hurt expression.

Your gaze falls on him once more, a self loathing feeling crawling up your throat and making you want to beg for his forgiveness on your knees at the thought that you put that expression on his face. This bond would take some getting used to, in what world would you kneel before a male you've just met. Still, you didn't want him to think he scared or even disgusted you in any way, mate or no mate, that was extremely rude.

You clear your throat softly, remembering the weight of your role in this temple and trying desperately to fall back into character, hoping the familiarity of your duties will bring your mind some peace and help you get through this moment.

“Forgive me, it isn't often that we get visitors,” his entire body tenses up even further at your words, but it relaxes as you keep speaking, “I welcome you to the last Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple. I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats, but also do my best to help anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just as you have been.”

You try not to look too long in his general direction in fear of getting lost in his eyes once more, but that's close to impossible when you're talking to him and he might be the most beautiful male you've ever encountered. Taking a step to the side, you hold out a hand towards the door, inviting him into the temple, something you should have already done.

He nods his head once after watching your outstretched arm for a moment longer, and then makes his way inside slowly. As he passes by, you can't help but breathe in his scent, it feels intoxicating and it takes every bit of strength in your body to not let your mind linger on how well it would smell mixed with yours, until you couldn't point out where one ended and the other began.

A gasp pulls you out of your betraying thoughts, a smile finding its way to your lips, knowing the sight was making him speechless. It always sparks a little pride in you when someone gazes upon the temple for the first time. Even after living here for centuries, this temple's beauty still takes your breath away. The entire floor was made of replandescent white stones, silver gems weave highlights into them, creating patterns across the entire room, maps of constellations and lunar phases, and giving it a particular glow of their own. They were illuminated by the giant skylight making up most of the ceiling, as to allow both the moon and sunlight to enter. You've tried identifying the materials used in this construction before but ended up coming up empty. It seems the precious stones and gems used no longer grew in this world, perhaps they never did.

At the far corner of the room there was an altar, one without statue or offering table, but an altar all the same. Even when She walked this world, your Goddess never accepted gifts or ever allowed anyone to replicate her image because even that could end up leaving traces of her power behind. The altar looks empty right now, and you catch yourself wishing he could be here to see it on a full moon, when the moon rays fall right over it and you can communicate with and receive any orders the Goddess might have for you. The entire room holds an even more intense glow during that night of the month as well, you're sure he would find it fascinating.

Making your way around him, careful not to step too close or accidentally touch his wings, you catch sight of his awe stricken face, tan skin glowing beautifully under the moonlight. A small, fond smile appears on his face when his gaze falls back on yours, and you almost curse the Mother for the challenge she just put in front of you. His beauty was truly otherworldly, it rivaled every shiny gem and stone in this room, maybe even the moon herself. How were you supposed to act normally knowing this was your mate?

“I've never seen anything like this before,” he admits softly, eyes never straying from yours. The sound of his voice makes you pause, it feels strangely familiar, like something you've been waiting to hear your entire life. There's a curious kind of magic around mating bonds, you don't know how it's possible for someone you've just met to already have so much power over you, even when you're trying your best to ignore him.

“I still find myself at a loss for words when gazing at this room as well,” you agree, wanting to cringe at the bashful expression you know has fallen over your face. Your plan of keeping a detached demeanor while fulfilling your duties was doomed from the start. You clasp your hands behind your back before continuing in what you hope is a professional voice. “The Goddess warned me of your arrival and left orders for me to help you in any way I can. If you tell me what you seek, I will give you what you came here for as long as it's within my abilities.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your words. “How did you know I was coming?”

“The Goddess knows more than us mortals will ever be able to grasp,” you explain as vaguely as possible while hopefully not raising any suspicions. There's not a single cell in your body that thinks he's untrustworthy, but they're incredibly biased, and the inner workings of your role as the Moon's keeper must be protected.

He seems satisfied enough with your answer, but there's a different kind of air about him now. As if remembering he doesn't know you, and has found himself at your mercy.

“You haven't told me what you came for,” you remind him. If you sit in silence for long your thoughts will start drifting again.

“Right,” he clears his throat, a pinkish tint covering the tips of his rounded ears. “I come on behalf of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.” Your eyebrows raise at this, not expecting him to be such an important person. “One of the High Lady's sisters has been turned into a seer recently, and given that she wasn't even born fae, these powers have proven extremely hard to control.”

You've heard the story of the human who saved the fae from the evil clutches of Amarantha, and her sisters who were tragically thrown in the cauldron by King Hybern and turned into fae against their will. Your Goddess had even told you one of the sisters vengefully stole her powers from the cauldron, and the other was gifted seer abilities. Given the circumstances in which this all went down, it's understandable that she has been having trouble controlling her powers. Being a seer is an exceptionally heavy burden, and she's still so young too.

“We have some books that might be able to help, both in controlling one's power and pulling an entranced fae out of any visions or dreams they've found themselves stuck in. Was that what you were hoping for?”

“Yes,” he admits, apparently relieved at having found what he was looking for, “We found texts mentioning the followers of the Moon Goddess often had prophetic dreams, and wrote entire manuals on how to navigate them. Since Elain wasn't born with these powers these books seemed perfect to help her, and so the High Lady sent me searching for them.” You nod, motioning for him to follow you as you turn and start walking to the library, already making a mental list of all the books that might help his friend.

Even lost in thought, you sense him stopping in his steps as you're walking down the corridor, overwhelmingly aware of his every move as you were. This prompts you to turn around and face him in question, only to find him watching you in amazement.

“You're breathtaking,” he blurts out before he can catch himself, making heat rush up your neck and settle over your entire face. He looks away embarrassed for a moment, one of his shadows crawling up his neck and over his ear, before looking back at you with a bashful look. “I'm sorry. I just- Is it normal for you to glow like this?”

This power has been a part of you for so long, you almost forget about the way your hair lights up in the dark, an aura surrounding you as well, giving you an overall ethereal glow. “Yes, I harness power from the moon and She glows so…” you trail off, biting your lip as he keeps studying you. “The library is right up ahead,” you add, turning your back to him once more so you can gather your thoughts for the nth time since he stepped foot into this temple.

As you navigate through the familiar rows of shelves your heart finally calms, easily picking up the pertinent books. You can't help but keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, not out of suspicion, but curiosity for his every reaction. He seems content with following after you as he watches the decorations and studies the books sitting on the shelves, not once asking you what you're giving him, simply carrying the books you hand him. It makes you wonder if he usually trusts everyone this easily or if it's something reserved for you.

When you hand him the last book, you move to the back of the room slowly, the place where you keep some important magical amulets and tools, waiting on any sign from the Goddess forbidding you from lending him any of them. He comes to stand beside you then, likely noticing your hesitation.

“There is also an artifact that I think could help your friend,” you start, picking up the bracelet in question and holding it up as you explain its power, “This can help numb one's powers.”

“Like faebane?”

You shake your head, “No, this is completely painless, but it's vital that it is only used when she's finding herself lost in her visions and you're struggling to pull her out. This is not to be used as a crutch. If she used it to suppress her powers too often, she might never be able to take control of her full powers and this bracelet could become something she can't live without.” He nods, hopefully understanding the gravity behind your words. “It's also extremely rare and dangerous so I ask that, as soon as she has a better grasp of her abilities, I would say within a few years at most, this bracelet is delivered back to the temple so it can be kept safe.”

“What happens if we don't return it?”

The question makes you tense up and close your hands around the bracelet, your voice coming out clipped as you answer him. “I'm not entirely sure as no one has ever attempted something so foolish as long as I've been here, but those types of transgressions are handled by the Goddess so I imagine you would not be able to keep it even if you tried.”

“I wasn't considering keeping it. I was merely curious,” he rushes to explain, sincerity dripping from every word and making you relax a bit.

“Curious?”

“If you would be the one to come for it,” he confessed.

A warm tingly feeling spreads through your body as you digest his words. Would he seriously consider stealing from a God just for a chance to see you again? Even if it meant being at the end of your wrath? Can you be confident the bond wouldn't drive you to such extremes as well?

“I can't leave the temple unattended,” you murmur, much too softly for your own good. Your emotions are running all over the place, it almost seems like they're fighting to see which one will take control of your body, and unfortunately, you have an inkling as to which is winning as his scent overwhelms your senses once again.

“Of course,” he says, taking a small step closer to you, shadows mostly retreating from his body, “Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.” Must his voice sound like a cup of hot chocolate after a day spent playing in the snow?

It doesn't help that you've been in this temple for so long that you can't even recall the last time someone touched you, not even sexually, no one has so much as held your hand or hugged you in decades, ever since your parents passed. Looking at him, you know you could get lost in his arms, your head resting against his strong chest.

It's only when you squeeze the bracelet too hard, a bit of its power zapping through you, that you're finally able to pull yourself from the beautiful hazel of his eyes, and your consuming thoughts. Clearing your throat and handing him the bracelet. He only hesitates a second, likely pulling himself out of the moment as well, before carefully taking it from your hand, conscious of not letting his skin touch yours, much to your dismay.

You can feel your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred hands before you have a chance to school your features. The armor he wears and the sword strapped between his wings tell you he's a warrior, but you can't imagine what could have happened for this injury to scar like this. Someone employed directly under the High Lord must have access to the best healers in the court. Suddenly, anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach at the thought that someone dared to hurt your mate.

This time he's the one to pull away from you abruptly, shadows returning to their master, and that infuriating string tugging at your heart as he does. It makes you want to reach out and hold his hand, reassure him somehow, but thankfully your brain catches up to the thought that might be overstepping, and so you simply nod at him and ask him to follow you back to the temple's main room once more.

The walk back is filled with a heavy atmosphere, not only considering your oversight, but also at the realization that you must send him away now, likely never to see him again. If you're lucky he will be the one to return the bracelet, and you will be able to see him in a few years. The thought makes you slow your pace.

It's only when you reach the heavy doors, that you allow yourself to turn to him, his face reflecting your feelings perfectly. You briefly consider mentioning the bond, at least to make sure he feels it too, but you fail to see what good that would bring. You still can't leave the temple and, now that he's gotten what he came for, he will not be able to return either. This will be the last time you see each other, regardless of your feelings.

He studies your face carefully, perhaps wondering the same. It seems he reaches a conclusion as he speaks up, “Can you tell me your name?” He sounded hopeful, but somehow scared of asking, as if denying him could hurt him beyond comparison.

You whisper your name hesitantly, knowing this isn't just another stranger, this was your mate. He repeats it, tasting it on his tongue as he stares at you with an intensity you almost couldn't bear, but were unable to look away from.

“My name is Azriel,” he offers willingly, like he wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name, and who were you to deny him this when you were already withholding so much? You repeat his name the same way he did yours, the impertinent little silver string connecting you and your mate reappearing as the delicious word left your lips.

You keep repeating it in your mind as he thanks you for your help and you watch him take flight, hesitation written in his entire body language as his wings slowly carry him over the clouds, looking back down multiple times as if fighting himself to keep moving. You repeat it once more out loud, when you can't see him anymore and you know he's out of earshot. This time his name is followed by a broken whisper of an apology.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The flight back to Velaris was one of the hardest ones Azriel has ever attempted, noticeably taking him much longer than it would have under normal circumstances. He has had to fly back home on an injured body and even injured wings, carrying another with him – Cassian of all people – and he's had to fly through the most extreme weather, heavy rain, snow and the torrid desert sun. All of those things had seemed easy compared to what he was experiencing now with a well rested body.

Both Rhysand and Cassian had mentioned how the mating bond made them act differently, how it seemed like it was taking control of their body and pushing them to act a certain way, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn around and go back for his mate.

He even had to take a break along the way, after watching the temple disappear right before his eyes, hidden inside the spell that had kept it safe for millenia. As the sight of the brilliant building was replaced with trees and rocks, the only thing going through Azriel's mind was that he might never see his mate again, the mere thought sending his heart into disarray. He spends a good while sitting under the moonlight, looking ahead at where he knows she is, while his shadows do their best to comfort him. Trying desperately to wrap his head around everything that happened, and how much his life changed in such a short time.

If he had been given a warning, a chance to prepare himself, then maybe he would have approached things differently, but getting blindsided by a mating bond wasn't in his plans. In fact, it had been a good while since he had stopped hoping for a mate.

He had longed for one most of his life. For someone that not only was his equal, but was also able to connect to him in ways only those who have experienced such a thing can begin to comprehend. A person that would accept him no matter how wretched he was, how much blood he has had to wash off his hands for the sake of his court. Someone he would love with every breath in him, even if it ruined him completely.

So many don't truly believe in mating bonds until they see them in front of them, but Azriel always did. He'd seen the worst this world had to offer and knew that if there was such darkness, then its counterpart would be equally as strong. And what could be stronger and brighter than love?

It wasn't until his brothers found mates of their own within a year of each other that Azriel started truly wishing for one though. Before, it was nothing more than a dream, just as he had dreamt of flying when he was locked in his cell, of seeing his mother when his cruel father kept him away from her, but seeing the happiness the mating bond had brought his brothers and how amazing the connection they shared with their mates was, he couldn't help longing for the same.

That was until enough years passed, everyone around him happily mated or in loving relationships while he stood by and watched from the same dark corner of the room. Azriel had convinced himself he wasn't worthy of a mate, even now after seeing you he can't help but feel the same. You were perfect in every aspect of the word, a beacon of light even kept away in your temple, while Azriel was nothing more than a monster. The feared Spymaster of the Night Court. Always ready to drench his hands in blood for the sake of his family and his home, always covered in shadows. A lesser fae, Illyrian of all kinds.

You deserve someone better, of that much he's sure, but the Mother had decided you were equals, and Azriel didn't mind doing his best to be worthy of you even if he had to work for it for the rest of his life. He's been waiting to love someone for so long, has been saving all of that inside him, and he wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, in reverence. Except it didn't seem like he would have the chance.

For most of your interaction, Azriel was convinced you had also felt the bond forming between you two, but he couldn't be sure, not when you hadn't even mentioned it or alluded to it before showing him out. Maybe he had read too much into things, let his own feelings bleed into his analysis, or maybe you simply didn't want a mating bond, not with someone like him. It didn't seem like you knew of him, but who's to say you haven't heard of the awful things he's done, and decided you didn't want anything to do with a monster like him.

The thought had his shadows rushing to soothe him once more, whispering vehement denials of his unworthiness as they covered him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't answer any of his questions about you, claiming it wasn't their place to explain your feelings or situation. In a way they were right, but that left him with no idea of what to think.

Azriel sat on that mountain, mulling over everything that had happened until the first rays of the sun started rising over the horizon. It wasn't until Rhysand reached out to check on him, worried at his spymaster's unusual tardiness, that he resumed his trip back to Velaris, this time passing through shadows along the way to cut his time shorter, hoping his brother hadn't caught glimpse of the heartbreakingly beautiful female consuming his every thought. Trying desperately to clear his mind as the cool wind hit his face, preparing for the meeting that was waiting for him as soon as he got home.

“So the temple truly exists?” Rhysand had been as skeptical about the temple's existence as Azriel, finding it hard to believe that such a thing could be hidden in his own court without his knowledge.

Azriel nods and sets the books you've given him on the dark desk, dropping the bracelet on top of the pile carefully, trying not to be reminded of the way you had handed it to him, or focus on your scent still clinging to it faintly. Shaking himself out of it and letting the spymaster mask fall over his face, he starts explaining how he had found the temple behind a powerful spell, going into detail about the building itself, the keeper who had helped him and the books and bracelet given to him, including the warnings you gave him, making sure to stress the fact that the bracelet was to be returned as soon as Elain gained enough control of her abilities.

“You really didn't feel the wards around the temple?”

“No, if my shadows hadn't disappeared right before my eyes I wouldn't have even noticed they were there.” So much had happened that Azriel almost forgot how peculiar those wards were, in fact all the magic present in the temple and in you had felt different.

“And this keeper?” His heart speeds up treacherously, enough so that Rhys gets a curious glint in his purple eyes, undoubtedly noticing it. “Tell me about her.”

A soft scowl takes over his features, a strange possessiveness creeping up before has the chance to quell it. “She was waiting for me at the entrance. Apparently the Moon Goddess warned her there was a visitor coming.”

“She can talk to the Goddess?”

“It seems so,” Azriel hesitates for a moment, “Her magic is different from any fae I've seen. Her hair is completely white, and her eyes aren't much darker, maybe a bit more silver. There was a certain aura about her, her entire being seemed to glow beautifully under the moonlight, even more when we moved inside. She truly looked otherworldly. In that moment, she looked even more radiant than the stars and the moon combined.”

A moment of silence falls over the room as everyone digests Azriel's words, tiny gasps leaving Feyre and Elain, who had been out of it for most of the conversation as a result of yet another one of her visions, and Nesta's jaw dropping significantly as they were not used to hearing the Shadowsinger muse about someone like this. Unfortunately, the others have seen him drunk enough when he was younger, so it wasn't as much of a surprise.

“What was that, brother?” Cassian's teasing voice cuts through his thoughts, “I thought you didn't resort to poetry.”

Azriel looks up at this, heat rising to his cheeks at the amused looks shared by everyone in the room, realizing he had lost himself in his descriptions of you, unable to keep them as clinical as he normally would, especially when it came to a mission.

“I just meant her magic manifests in a way I've never seen before,” he finishes lamely, one of his shadows oh so helpfully crawling up his neck to notify him that no one seemed to believe his excuse.

“Right, her magic,” Nesta mocks, suddenly interested in hearing about the temple after focusing on the books that would be helping her sister.

Thankfully, Amren didn't care about whether he found the keeper beautiful or not, and wanted to keep the conversation on track, a bored expression on her face as she pulled the attention back to her and the topic at hand.

“You said she called herself the keeper of the temple, correct?”

Azriel nods at her while checking his mental walls just in case, lest he also let them fall in his moment of distraction, and his High Lord or Lady saw something they shouldn't. He can only guess what feelings and thoughts would be attached to your image in his mind. If they saw this he would never hear the end of it.

“I believe she not only can communicate with the Goddess but also shares some of her powers. It's hard to determine just how powerful she truly is,” the ancient one turns to Rhys and Feyre, a serious look taking over her features, “She could become a threat to us.”

“She's not a threat,” his voice cuts through the room, protecting his mate instinctively.

Rhysand raises one annoyingly perfect eyebrow at Azriel's sudden outburst. Some of the amusement still lingers around the room, but the anger behind his statement was undeniable, creating some tension and confusion between everyone. It's not often they see him so on edge, to the point of raising his voice at Amren of all people.

He tries to calm himself as much as possible, knowing this is a symptom of the mating bond and that his brothers and sister-in-laws might be able to figure that out, and tries to explain himself once again.

“I was the one who talked to her, there were no ill intentions when she guided me through the temple and gave me the books. She even added more books than we wanted or knew existed, and the bracelet. She helped us willingly.”

Amren studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finishing her earlier thought. “Even if she had any ill intentions, keepers are bound to their temples and can't physically leave, so there wouldn't be much to worry about.”

It feels like the world stops when Azriel hears these words. Every little hope he was clinging to in regards to your bond escaped him in that moment. If what Amren said was true, you couldn't leave the temple, even if you wanted to come and find him, and he couldn't find the temple unless he needed something and the Goddess showed him the way. He could very well never see you again, or only once more, when Elain got better and he had to deliver the books and bracelet back to the temple. Was that why you ignored the bond? Because you knew there was no hope for the two of you?

Azriel spends the rest of the meeting in a sort of trance, barely able to listen to what his family was talking about, or even register what they decided when it came to helping Elain use the books. It was impossible to focus on anything when it felt like his life, a dream that had barely started was crumbling right before his eyes. He only tunes back in when the meeting is over and most of the Inner Circle starts leaving, hoping he can at least go rest from his flight, take a long bath and find a quiet place to be alone and digest these life changing last few hours.

He was already on his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the door when Rhys called out his name, making him turn around in question. “There's something else we need to discuss.” His brother was always the most perceptive at the worst times. The last thing Azriel wants to do right now is discuss his miserable fate with anyone.

Everyone filters out the room then, even Feyre who drops a kiss on her mate's cheek before following her sister out - a gesture he's more than used to witnessing but bears a different weight today - leaving the two brothers alone in the quiet office. Azriel doesn't move from his spot, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms as Rhysand studies him, daring him to start the conversation, secretly praying he simply has another mission to send him on instead of the conversation he's almost sure is about to start.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with this keeper?”

Azriel has to physically stop himself from sighing. Why couldn't the Mother let him have a moment after everything that has already happened in the last few hours?

“Nothing happened,” he sounds defensive even to himself, his mind too preoccupied to try and mask his emotions, “She gave me the books and then I left.” This much was true, unfortunately.

Rhys simply hums, always sounding irritatingly sure of himself. “So you wouldn't mind showing me your memories of last night, right? I'd like to take a good look at the temple. It seemed quite intriguing,” he pauses for a second, head tilting a fraction to the side, mouth forming into a smirk, “and so did she.”

A snarl escapes Azriel's mouth at his brother's words. Even if he knew he was being baited, controlling this damned bond was impossible right now. Rhysand's smirk only deepens, like a predator who successfully lured its prey, since his brother gives him the exact reaction he was expecting with that little comment. No wonder Azriel has to work so hard as his Spymaster, it's a miracle Rhys has lived this long.

“You look very defensive of a female you've only exchanged one simple conversation with.”

“Like I said before,” he says, that snarl not quite leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries, “She helped us without a second thought, even more than we expected. I just don't understand why everyone keeps insisting that she might be a threat.”

“I didn't say she was a threat, I simply asked you to show me what she looked like.” The High Lord taps his purple painted nails on the table, waiting for a response. When it becomes clear that Azriel isn't taking the bait, Rhys keeps going, “Can't blame me for being curious of how this keeper beautifully glows under the moonlight. She looked otherworldly, you said?”

The thought of assassinating his loving brother crosses Azriel's mind. He doesn't even know what to respond knowing those were his own words, and any reaction would be amplified by the mating bond. The High Lord had him right where he wanted him.

As he keeps staring at his brother, shadows climbing up his body until most of him is covered from those intense violet eyes, Rhysand's expression changes, a somewhat defeated look replacing the earlier amusement as he accepts that he'll have to pry the truth from his spymaster.

“Azriel, I've known you for over five centuries. I can tell when you're hiding something from me,” his face and tone turning even more serious as he continues, “I also know what a fresh mating bond feels like, the emotions it evokes in us.”

Azriel stares at his brother for another moment, before realizing there was no need to try and pretend he wasn't right, letting out a sigh before sitting down in the chair across from him defeatedly, shadows settling while his wings drooped, enough to touch the floor.

“If you already know, why are you asking me about it?”

“I didn't expect this to be your reaction,” he says, thoroughly studying Azriel's face. “I don't understand why you wouldn't be happy. I know it can be scary, but you've always wanted a mate, Az.”

“There's nothing to be happy about.”

Rhys simply rolls his eyes, “I know a bit more about mating bonds than you do. Trust me there's a lot to be happy about.”

His temper rises at this, emotions still not having settled - he's starting to wonder if they ever will. Even his shadows were becoming overstimulated, not knowing how to soothe their singer in these circumstances.

“Didn't you hear what Amren said? She can't leave the temple, she's bound to it, and I can't go back there since it's hidden under whatever spell that was,” the words almost caught in his throat, “I'm never seeing her again.”

Saying it out loud makes the whole situation unbearably real. It's not often Azriel sees himself in conversation such as these, always one to ignore his feelings for as long as possible, and then isolating himself when they become too much, but his brother knows him too well, as he said before, and was prying out everything too easily.

“I don't even know if she wanted this,” he finds himself whispering.

“Why wouldn't she?”

Azriel swallows all the self-pity, the unworthiness he felt when it came to you, or anyone else really. Diving into these feelings would lead them into a different conversation, one he wasn't sure he could handle, much less right now, and so he opts for the simpler answer.

“She didn't mention the bond once, she was ignoring it – if she even felt it at all,” he leans back and runs his hand through his hair, “my feelings were muddled the whole time I was there so I can't even know for sure.”

“You didn't tell her you were her mate either,” Rhysand reminds him.

Would things have gone a different way if he had? Or would you simply let him down as soon as he brought it up? Did it even matter? Would he be able to survive your rejection?

“She told you the temple showed itself for the people who needed it, right?” Azriel looks up at his brother, nodding. “Seems to me like you need to talk to her.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

You're not entirely sure what one is supposed to do after finding their Mother-blessed mate, and then proceed to send them on their way, possibly to never return. Not being able to get even a wink of sleep and spending the next few hours searching your library for any information on mating bonds seems appropriate though. There wasn't anything written in these books that you didn't already know about mating bonds: extreme attraction, a connection of emotions, feelings of primal possessiveness, the possibility for a love unlike any other.

There was no mention of the silver string you'd seen tied around both of your hearts, but the bond seems to manifest itself differently for everyone, and the magic your Goddess has poured into you was peculiar to say the least. Even Azriel might not have seen or felt it manifest the same way you did, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Denying it is out of the picture at this point.

The section about rejecting mating bonds caught your eye, but it quickly soured your mood. It seems there's no way to reject a mating bond and hope for life to ever go back to normal, especially for males as they would always feel like a part of them was missing. The book didn't exactly go into depth on the topic – there can't be too many other idiots thinking of turning down a mating bond, – so it didn't mention anything about just ignoring the bond. Would it just fizzle out until you could barely feel anything, or would it end up with the same effects of a rejected bond? As much as you knew this bond was doomed from the start, you didn't want to convict Azriel to a lifetime of madness, or even worse. It was bad enough he couldn't get a mate out of you.

After your mood deflates at the bleak prospect for your future, and the sun has already replaced the moon, you decide to indulge yourself for a moment. Since your encounter had been so brief, you ended up not finding out too much about Azriel aside from his name, and, as much as there was a voice nagging at the back of your mind, warning you that trying to learn more about your mate won't help you in successfully ignoring the bond at all, you're still only fae and curiosity got the best of you. How could you not be curious about your mate?

You'd heard stories about a shadowsinger working under the High Lord of the Night Court, but you didn't know if that was him as the High Lord had changed since then. If it was though, this would make him a truly important figure for this court, country even. You can't help but feel proud at the thought.

Your search for information on Shadowsingers soon proves fruitless, not being able to find much else aside from their abilities to communicate with shadows, rare as they are, so you move onto researching winged fae instead, in hopes of finding out what kind he is. There are various kinds, this much you know, but for some reason you've always imagined them all to have feathered wings. It's at times like these that you wished you had traveled more when you were younger.

Most of the day is spent like this, tucked into your favorite sofa in the library, the temple refilling your teacup and offering you little snacks as you search for any bit of information that could help you understand who Azriel is. A tug on your silver string finally pulls you out of the moment, body immediately going into alert as you feel your mate nearing. These feelings are entirely too abstract, there's no way of knowing if he's flying over the temple or simply a bit closer than he had been an hour prior - which could still be halfway across the Night Court. You'd also found in one of the books that mates could attempt reaching out to each other through the bond, the descriptions of the resulting feeling appearing quite similar to what you were experiencing at the moment.

You try to ignore it and carry on reading your book on wings - the irony not lost on you - but the string keeps tugging incessantly, even more firmly now, and you suddenly get the feeling that he was actually close, possibly even trying to reach out at the same time or following the bond.

Had he come looking for you? You told him the temple kept itself hidden unless the visitor needed something from within these walls and the Goddess allowed them passage. He had to know that he wouldn't find anything more than trees and shrubs in this forest, the temple keeping itself out of sight even if he had been here before and knew its exact location, such were the wards around this place.

Putting away the book and sitting up on the sofa, you wonder what you should do. There's no way of communicating with him, and you won't be able to let him in, no matter how desperate you were since that decision was not your own to make. Your role was to protect the temple, but you knew he wasn't a threat either. Were you to simply stand by and watch while he looked for you, only to be met with silence? The Mother seems to have a twisted sense of humor.

As you were preparing yourself mentally for what you assumed were going to be a tough few hours, you feel the unmistakable sign of someone passing through the barrier, prompting you to stand up and winnow straight to the main hall, opening the front doors in a rush, only to find a familiar dark figure waiting for you.

If you weren't witnessing it with your own eyes, if your heart wasn't beating at that rhythm that seemed reserved solely for him, you wouldn't have believed this to be true. Your feet move of their own accord, carrying you towards your mate as he stands at the entrance to your temple, a contagiously hopeful expression on his face as he watches you move to him.

“How did you get here?” You can't help the dumb question, not being able to understand what is happening in the midst of your surprise and every other feeling that came with his presence.

“I needed to talk to you,” he explains in a breathy tone, smiling down at you like he wasn't sure if this would have worked either, if he was actually going to be able to find you.

The Goddess showed him the way, if She hadn't he wouldn't have been able to find you, even with any shadowsinger trick he might have had up his sleeve. Could She know he's your mate? She had been the one to warn you of his arrival the day before after all.

You're still trying to gather your thoughts when he continues, skipping over all the pleasantries as if he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

“You're my mate.”

Hearing the word coming from his mouth makes your heart soar, a tingling feeling spreading over your entire body as if lava was now running through your veins. This was not a confession you needed to hear, but the bond welcomed it anyway.

“I know,” you admit, a bittersweet smile overtaking your features.

“Are you unhappy with it? With me?” You quickly shake your head in denial, but he continues before you have the chance to explain, “I would understand it if you were, and if you don't want the bond, I won't force you to accept it. I promise I will never hurt you.”

Is this what has been going through his mind since he left? That you wouldn't want him? The thought makes you swallow, you've only wanted to spare him as much pain as you could, not hurt him more yourself.

“Azriel, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, or any reason I wouldn't want you as my mate” you assure, “but I swore my life to protecting this temple, and I can't physically leave the grounds. That's not fair to you.”

He doesn't seem to be surprised at the information, meaning he was probably already aware of your predicament and decided to come talk to you anyway, but he still takes a moment before speaking, thinking through his words as he watches you, shadows coming up to whisper in his ear.

“Did you make a vow of chastity or anything similar?” The question takes you aback for a second, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Not explicitly, no,” you clear your throat, “but it's hard to keep a relationship when you're bound to a temple hidden in the middle of nowhere. I can't even walk past the first few steps.”

Azriel looks behind him at your words. If he took a few steps down, you wouldn't be able to follow him, a different set of wards keeping you within these grounds. When he meets your eyes once again, you add carefully, “This isn't a relationship worth pursuing when we both know it won't end up working.”

“I think I would like to decide that for myself,” he says as he takes a small step closer to you, “if you'll allow me.”

“What?”

“I would like to come visit you whenever I can, and get to know you. This… I don't think we should throw away a chance like this so lightly, not without at least giving it a try.” He closes most of the distance between you, raising up his hand and holding his palm up for you to take, “Even if it never becomes a romantic relationship, or if it ends up breaking both of our hearts, I don't want to be the person who didn't fight for something so special in fear of getting hurt.”

You watch his hand as you mull over his words. It's not as if he doesn't make sense in his argument, you're more than aware how downright stupid it is to throw away a mating bond when some people spend their whole lives searching for one, but you're scared, for both of your sakes. Letting your mate into your life, even without accepting the bond, knowing that there will come a time when you will want more from it than what you're capable of having would not simply hurt you both, but change both of your lives beyond recognition – it could even kill you. And yet, staring into his hopeful eyes every little reason why you should be turning him down, walking back into the temple and closing the door behind you, seems to escape your mind.

When his hand lowers slightly, wings drooping as well, possibly taking your hesitation as denial, your hand moves to hold his instinctively, surprising the both of you. You had been kidding yourself into thinking you could fight a bond like this. The smallest sign that your mate would leave and your body moved to keep him by your side. Your decision has been made. You can only hope the Gods will have mercy on you.

“I would like to get to know you too, Azriel,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours as a blinding smile takes over his devastatingly handsome face. “As long as the Goddess shows you the way to the temple, I don't see anything wrong with… talking.”

He lets his thumb run over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips, sending your heart into disarray as he leaves a soft kiss on your skin. A flush covers the tip of his ears, and you catch a flash of the silver string connecting the both of you.

“Then I promise to come see you as often as I can.” He lets your hands fall between you two, fingers still intertwined as you stare at each other like fools. You catch yourself after a moment, thanking the Mother for living in this isolated mountain for once so no one could witness this.

“Do you want to come in? You must be tired after your flight,” you invite, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his skin immediately.

His gaze drops to your hand before meeting yours once again and nodding, following you inside into the main hall he had been in before. It looked different in the light of day, his hazel eyes studying it once more.

“I didn't fly all the way here,” he starts, gaze still stuck on the stone covered walls, “I can travel through shadows, similarly to how most high fae can winnow.”

“Oh.” You watch as his shadows move lazily around him, coming up his legs. “Is that one of your shadowsinger abilities?”

“Yes.” You wanted to ask more, your earlier curiosity returning, but you find a conflicted expression when he meets your eyes, you can also feel it in your chest, and so you wait for him to decide if he wants to share it with you.

“I'm not high fae,” he admits.

“Right, the wings,” you let out, much too excitedly, as your eyes fall on the huge appendages on his back, “I've never met anyone with wings, and haven't even heard of featherless wings. I searched in the library for types of winged fae, but most of our collection is a bit outdated, and the Goddess was never too interested in those sorts of things so I couldn't find anything that fit your description.” Your mind finally catches up to your words then, eyes widening before falling to your hands as you play with your fingers, and add lamely, “I have a lot of time on my hands here, and I didn't think I'd see you again so…”

You dare a look at his face when his silence drags on too long, finding him watching you with a surprised expression, wide hazel eyes staring into your white ones. His shadows had crept up his neck once again - singing to him you suppose.

Azriel finally finds his words after another moment, your eyes not straying from his for a second, “I'm Illyrian,” he starts, studying your face carefully before continuing, “As far as I know, we're the only ones whose wings have no feathers.”

“Illyrian?”

“Have you heard of it?” He seems scared somehow, but you're not exactly sure why he would be. You try to remember where you've heard the word before, only taking you a moment to remember them as people who live in the mountains up in the north, and were part of the High Lord's army.

“Yes. I know they're people who live in the mountains, and fought in the war but I didn't even know you had wings,” you gesture to them, “I didn't get much of a chance to travel before I came to the temple, so I've never met any Illyrians.”

“That's all you've heard?” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing at his insistence. “Illyrians have an unfavorable reputation. The males train their whole lives to fight, and the females aren't regarded as much more than a means for procreation,” he explains further, “Some have started changing their ways, slowly, but most camps insist on their traditions, no matter how cruel. They- We just don't have a good reputation.”

You start understanding where he was getting at. Some fae had trouble opening their eyes to how the world was changing around them, choosing to remain willfully ignorant to the harm it brought those who were different from them, who they deemed as lesser. He was scared that, had you heard about whatever cruelty he's seen from his peers, you would judge him for it. You feel a little offended that he would think so lowly of you, but the truth is he doesn't know you at all, or you him.

“It's hard to outlive archaic traditions when we live for centuries. I wouldn't ever dream of passing judgment on an entire group of people for the beliefs some of its members insist on clinging onto,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, shrugging as you smile up at him, “and I might be biased, or even wrong, but I think you're very kind, Azriel. You came all the way here to help your friend, with no real proof that you'd find what you were looking for, and then you came back to ask permission to visit me, even when you thought I might not accept it. Cruel is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'd rather go with sweet.”

“Sweet?” He asks, a flush rising to his cheeks and a bashful smile finally erasing that conflicted expression off his face. “You think I'm sweet?” You hum in agreement, your grin growing so large it hurts your cheeks. “I'll have to let my mother know at last someone agrees with her.”

You let out a laugh, the image of a baby Azriel getting showered in praises from his mother entering your mind. You almost have trouble imagining him as a child, but you have no doubts he was more than sweet, adorable even, with his round cheeks and small wings.

“So…” You lean back on your heels, intertwining your hands behind your back. “Do you want me to show you around the temple?”

“I would love to,” he agrees with a blinding smile on his face.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.��� 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[wardingshout]

Hi Livi!

I finally gathered the courage to send something to your ask box. There’s so much I want to say, but I'm not very good at expressing myself, so if my words seem a bit jumbled, I hope you don't mind.

I started using Tumblr a little over a year ago, and I remember stumbling upon one of your artworks after searching the “alttp” tag. I was so incredibly happy and excited — I loved it immediately, especially because it’s so rare to see ALTTP-related art where I’m from.

Back then, I didn’t pay much attention to who the artist was and just kept browsing. But over time, I realized that so many of the amazing pieces I loved were actually created by you! Honestly, your art is breathtaking. The way you portray Link and Zelda outside of the game’s narrative makes them feel so real. Your inspiration and creativity seem endless.

Your use of bright, intricate, and emotionally resonant colors fills every piece with a sense of story — sometimes with a gentle sadness, sometimes with tiny, charming interactions that make me smile.

I remember seeing that you draw on a particular site, and I tried using it too. It was really hard 😣 and made me admire your work even more — I’m amazed at how you manage to create such rich, detailed pieces on such a tiny canvas and with such limited tools.

Your compositions and the way you frame your scenes are incredible too — the perspectives you use, whether it's looking up, down, or close-up, show such skill and depth. I’ve been obsessed with your artwork for a long time 🥺🥺

And the outfits you design for Link and Zelda — they’re absolutely beautiful. They’re so different from the classic green tunic, yet they feel *exactly* like something the characters would wear. I don’t think any language could fully express how much I love your costume designs. Please allow me to scream for a moment here.

There’s still so much I want to say, but now that I’m writing, I find myself at a loss for words. So I’ll just say this: you are truly an amazing artist. Your work is astonishing and deeply captivating.

Also, I drew some of your versions of Link and Zelda — I hope you’ll like them! (Screaming again, their designs are just too beautiful 😭😭)

VIOLET HI!!! 💕💕💕

I'm sorry I have no idea where to start here, I'm feeling so overwhelmed in the best way ever! I just barely managed to load this ask before leaving the locker room at work yesterday and ended up hiding there until everyone else left bc I didn't want them to see my cry haha💕,,

I don't think there's any beginning or end to how emotional this got me and to how honoured I feel to have my art described in such a way;; this is!! absolutely everything I've ever dreamed of reaching with my art, so having someone else putting it into words just from looking at is so incredible !!!! ;v; even if it's hard to feel happy about my own stuff it seems like I can still portray the things I want to, this makes me so happy 🥹💕💕

and especially because a lot of this is stuff I absolutely love about your art too!!!! you have such an incredible way of creating soft, yet somber atmospheres and your compositions always come off so intentional and interesting !!! the way you blend so many different colours into everything looks both natural and interesting and it's one of my absolute favourite things from art !! ✨✨✨

Seeing you back on tegaki was such a joy too !!! ;v; even if it ended up feeling difficult, I was so excited to see you there and getting to check your posts for new comments brought me so much joy !!!! I always wanted to send you more comments but got so caught up in the excitement of you posting smth yourself I got distracted from it too often...

in general I'm always so excited to see you post new art !!! and super grateful we get to see a lot of your sketches lately too !!!! you art has such a consistent and pretty style and always comes off so smooth and effortless and interesting and it has inspired me so much !!! 💖💖💖🥹💕

I'm feeling a bit lost for words since there's So much I want to say it's difficult to phrase it properly. but you bringing up fun tegaki memories reminded me of the most fun way to thank people! (I tried bringing out the classic palette too!)

and since I also really love the way you draw them too and I was sad I missed maid day (yet again) them !!

I've been absolutely losing my mind over the way you drew my little guys!!!!!!!;; I've been looking at them so much already they almost feel ingrained into my brain, to the point I almost forgot they were real !!! there's no way I could properly thank you for all of this; the amazing art, the incredibly nice words and all the art inspiration you bring me by sharing your work!!! I'm feeling so so lucky and again so so honoured ;v; 💖💖💖💕💖💕

[jjwolves]

Kinda of a weird ask so ignore if you want, but do you think you could write a hc about either dream BBQ ena or web series ena interacting with a real world reader's hair

YOU WANNA CUT MY HAIR ✂ꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀ

What: 5 ENA X Reader Headcanons About Hair

Who: ENA from ENA (by Joel G)

How Much: ~1200 Words, ~6 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G

Warnings: None

Ever since you started dating ENA, she's taken it as express permission to per her hands all over you and begin investigation. Before, when you were just friends, she had been expressive, sure, but had carefully kept her distance as if worried that you may be unnerved by her. It was never mentioned, but a delicate space between you two was constantly maintained whenever near. Now, ever since your first kiss, it's like a dam had burst. ENA was always touching your face or bobbing one of your arms to the rhythm of a dance number that nobody had the translation key for. For her, holding your hand is an excuse to play with your digits and run a thumb over smooth nails as her tearful voice whispers to you. "I wish my skin was nice like this... Sniff. I'm just lemons and blocks..." You inform her that she's incredibly unique and that's a beauty of its own, bringing up a finger to wipe a tear from her blue side. She's kind of like some paintings you've seen. "I'll never understand why you feed me so well..."

Amidst her self-loathing, she splits her attention between the yellow hand playing with your fingers and the blue hand, now reaching up to stroke your hair in sorrowful adoration. "...Your hair is unfair, too. It's like urchin spindles, but it's soft and nice. Why can't I be an oxymoron?!" A little sleepy from the gentle comfort that a loving hand stroking your hair can bring, you tell her that she is a wonderful oxymoron. Any more of this and you won't be a very coherent source of emotional support. "Mm. It is really kind hair... Mine's low-tech garbage hair! Outdated!" Cartoonish streams of tears pour from ENA's blue side. Eyes half closed, you mumble that it's a very fun hair shape stylish in two different ways, and if she didn't like it, why didn't she get it cut? Damn, though, you were already seeing tessellations and hearing smooth jazz. That meant you were either falling asleep or ascending to Noir FM Radio with ENA's petting. You vaguely registered a curious static blip which sounded like a mode had been switched. ENA's chipper voice wormed its way into your ears as her gentle inspection of your hair continued. "Truly a pleasant sensation. You seem to be enjoying yourself as well, good love." You gave a low-energy hum as your favorite polygon gently wrapped a strand of your hair around a blue finger. Overlapping geometries completely overtook your vision and ENA's voice became music as you ascended.

Once you close your eyes, the shapes give way to the form of a room--a really weird one with moving walls and a warbly mirror, at least. You realize that you're holding ENA's hand. She gives you a confused look. "How curious. Did your hair always have teleportation properties?" No, not as far as you were aware. If so, you were seriously under-utilizing your abilities. ENA suddenly snaps her fingers. "Aha! I know the wizard behind this curtain. We had left the radio on when you let me perform my diagnosis on you. You must have ascended into the waves during our little inspection..." You blushed--ascending into a different dimension from someone touching your hair a little was seriously embarrassing. Were you this desperate?! "How flattering. No need to be embarrassed. I enjoy it quite a bit myself," she adds before you can wilt any further, tenderly brushing a strand out of your face. Your eyes drift past ENA and to the odd mirror at the front of the room, set behind three barber chairs. Before you can point it out, ENA already begins. "What an interesting coincidence! Say, you let me inspect your fibers, for which I am grateful, but perhaps you'd like to... touch mine as well?" Huh? You mean--yes. Yes, you would love to. You've always been curious about how it would feel outside of brief brushes with your hand or face.

ENA sits politely as you feel her... "hair". While you had suspected it in fleeting touches, being able to gently trace the shape of her lopsided hairstyle confirmed that it was not, in fact, hair as you knew it to be. Besides the floating ahoge which you hadn't properly inspected yet, her hair was a smooth, solid plane of what felt like some kind of light synthetic material. You could feel your much more organic hair begin to stand up from the static electricity buildup. ENA was facing away from you, but you could see her front just fine in the mirror on the wall. She looked rather melancholy. "I told you it was garbage hair. Can't run a hand through it, can't comb it, can't nothin'! It's fitting for a test tube loser baby like me! You don't have to touch it anymore, don't have to pretend..." She spontaneously curled into a ball and began crying tears which flew upwards and into the ceiling, causing spacetime ripples across all of the shapes which encompassed the mercurial room. This sorrow would not stand with you on the job. Sure, her hair had a very odd texture to it, but it was growing on you. You began gently straightening out the sides of her "full bob with a syntax error" cut, your fingers tracing its outline and dipping into the triangular groove at the very bottom. You stroked and straightened out the origami fold that made up her yellow side's short bob, eliciting a small, tearful voice from ENA. "Y-you don't hate it?" How could you hate it? It was her... It's just a shame that you couldn't really do anything with it. "...Could you cut it? Nobody's ever cut it before..." You suppose you could give it a try if it's what she wanted.

You scanned the table in front of the chair for something hair-cutting related, and procured some sort of wrench with little legs and teeth. A Barber's Helper. "If it's not too burdensome to request, I think I'd like all of my hair to be of joyous length." You asked if she meant that she wanted all of her hair to be short like her yellow side's. "Indeed!" You could probably manage that, hopefully. You took the Barber's Helper and it got to chewing through the odd synthetic material that composed ENA's hair, using your free hand to lift and angle her hair accordingly. "Mmm... That feels nice." Once the full chunk of her loose hair thumped onto the floor, you helped fold the freshly-shortened side into layers to emulate a bob-cut. You told her to open her eyes, at which point she gasped and stared into the mirror. "Wow... Thank you, dearest... I never looked so 'glass-half-full'!" A soft yellow hand squeezed yours as ENA's smile widened over the expanse of her blue. You thought the look suited her. "Oh, but do be careful of the Barber's Helper. It is still hungry." The tool snarled before climbing onto your face and shaving your eyebrows. "Don't fret! You're still breathtaking."

[lsd-astronaut]

Hello! I would like to ask for some headcanons about the four hobbits as parents! It can be any au (for example you can write about Frodo's interaction with Sam's children in "stays in the Shire " au)

I dreamt of Merry last night sooo I'm in a hobbit mood. Would love to write this for you hehehe

Like and reblog! Requests are open! Refer to my pinned post for rules

The hobbits as parents (Headcanons)

Frodo

I feel like he'd prefer to have just one kid as that is what he was used to when he was little. Plus, he is a hobbit that appreciates quiet, so I don't think a little army of his clones would be the best idea, especially after the Quest.

The kind of parent that will absolutely play music or straight up read to your pregnant belly because he says that his child should know who's their dad as soon as they open their eyes to the world.

Actually fainted when you gave birth but in his defence, he was extremely nervous about the whole ordeal and you can't really decide when an episode will hit you. But, rest assured, it was just one of these momentary things (like these rollercoaster videos) and he immediately went back to your side.

Frodo's child turns out to be even more of a menace than him when he was a fauntling, which is actually an achievement. Why, one time, Frodo appeared drenched while holding your kid, who looked extremely satisfied. Apparently, they had decided to run off, and Frodo, thinking they were going straight for the river, had rushed for them. The child had changed courses at the last moment, but Frodo hadn't been fast enough, and oh well.

Even if they give him almost daily heart attacks, Frodo absolutely adores his kid, and they adore him. He is the one to teach them how to read and write, and is also extremely proud when they defend themselves against rude hobbits. Yes, they are Frodo Baggins' kid. So what?

Sam

The best father, the best husband, the best everything.

Your first pregnancy went really smooth, but Sam was still a nervous wreck, constantly asking you whether you needed anything, and beating himself up if you felt any kind of discomfort or pain. Stupid Sam, he should be making it all easier for you, not more difficult. You chewed him up pretty thoroughly one day, but he maintains he absolutely needed that reality check.

Gets super serious the first weeks after your child is born. No "oh, but you owe me another baby" or "make me dinner, I'm tired and you only stay in bed all day." He hates that kind of people with all his heart. He changes diapers, keeps a feeding schedule, and even calms the baby down every time they get fussy so you can get the rest you deserve.

Had a secret competition he didn't really tell you about over whether the baby would say "dada" or "mama" first. His argument was that the "d" sound is easier to pronounce that "m". Was a bit disappointed when they said "mama", but your grin made the defeat feel way less sore. He'll get what he wants with the next kid, he's sure.

Teaches his kid to cook, garden, and many other skills. Even if they don't like it, he just wants to be sure they can fend for themselves in the real world when they leave the nest (he secretly hopes this never happens).

Merry

Okay, I'm gonna be completely honest. This guy does not strike me as someone who was looking to have kids; so when he learned that you were pregnant, he bluescreened for an entire minute and then had a little anxiety attack because he's not ready to be a father???

He decides to seek help from Sam who looks at him like he has grown two heads and basically sends him back to you with a kick on his rear and an apology in his mouth.

Finally, you both have a conversation, and this very silly hobbit tells you about his insecurities. He's too irresponsible and he doesn't see himself to be fit to be a role model for everyone, I mean he couldn't protect his own cousin! You reassure him that he is the only one that could do this, and that he is not alone so should he make a mistake he has you to rely on, and your child is not going to hate him.

From then on, he is hands on during your pregnancy. Any cravings you may have, no matter how unconventional or straight up not suit for consumption by anyone that isn't pregnant, will have Merry running around the Shire at any hour of the day and night. And if he has to wake up Sam at 3am on a weekday, well, you need it, and what are friends for?

Once your child is born, Merry cannot be convinced to stop holding them. He felt a connection as soon as he set eyes on them, like a little animal does when it imprints on the first thing they see, and Merry did not think his heart could hold more love. Oh, how wrong he was. He only allows you to hold them for feedings and honestly whenever you ask him, but if anyone else asks, Merry gives them a nasty glare and turns around very dramatically.

Talks to his child like they're a tiny adult and always seeks their opinion even if the child is more interested in eating their own shoes.

Also, if the kid has trouble talking in the first stages, he actually knows what they're saying even if to everyone else (but you) they are just babbling.

Pippin

Okay, before the Quest, he wanted a big family like the one he was born in, but afterwards he is very unsure about it. I feel like his sense of inadequacy and self-esteem issues got accentuated because of the events during the war. He was very happy when he learned you were pregnant but there was also a twinge of terror deep inside him.

Strangely quiet during the pregnancy, and although he reassures you that it is so he doesn't bother you in such a delicate condition, you know him better. At night, he will lay his cheek on your belly and just stay there, which has granted him some well aimed kicks from your very energetic child, but he never changes positions.

When your child is born, the midwife allows him to hold them after you've had your turn. He initially refuses with a sheepish smile and an excuse on "how he doesn't want to hurt the baby". You tell him to cut the bullshit and come hold them, which he does, and to your surprise, it's the most careful you've ever seen Pippin be. He needs to be corrected by the midwife on his arms' position and he profusely apologises but you reassure him he's doing great. He may or may not be crying as the baby grabs his finger with all their strength.

Now, the child is clearly Pippin's for they are extremely restless, and barely able to sleep through the night. Which has resulted you in losing sleep as well. One time, you shoot up as you hear the baby's piercing cries. As you go to get up, Pippin puts a hand on your shoulder and tells you to go back to sleep while he goes to calm them down. An hour later, you wake up again to find that Pippin has not come back so you go to check on him, and find him softly singing while gently rocking the crib, and your child fast asleep! It becomes the go-to method every time they cry, but it only works with Pippin, so hard time for Frodo or Merry when they are on babysitting duty.

Very present in your children's lives. He is their best friend and they know they can go to their "papa" for everything, good or bad. Pippin did get his wished for family in the end.

I hope it wasn't too obvious that I wrote Merry's and Pippin's first, and Frodo's and Sam's afterwards lmao also I went a bit crazy and then I remembered the request said "as parents" so that's why the pregnancy thing occupies so much in each one lol

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 6. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four, Post Five]

User: "after [Emmrich and Rook's] argument they don’t really bring it up again, is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" // Sylvia Feketekuty: ""is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" I think either one is valid. There's some time skips, so I figured if you imagined your Rook and Emmrich talking about the argument, it could've happened while, say, they're traveling to the Necropolis. Flow-wise it seemed best to rely on that passage of time to smooth that part over, and get to the point where we enter the talk by the coffin. Or perhaps they're so in-sync that, like you said, Rook and Emmrich feel they can just move on. (If you bring Emmrich to Isle of the Gods he's apologetic there, and Rook picks up on it, so maybe that was enough short as it was.) (To my mind it's not a huge thing to declare one way or another, but I'd prefer this one to be player's choice)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "had a question about emmrich's last name. i know there is a banter with harding that confirms it is a commoner name, but i was interested in what his surname breaks down into meaning? I assumed volk=folk perhaps, but is there any other meaning/significance? thank you!" // Sylvia: "You pretty much have it right with "volk" = people. I liked the idea that Volkarin would sound fancy to someone speaking English (well Harding's not speaking English per se, but you know), but have its roots in something that plain. So yeah basically I got a kick out of the thought that in Nevarra, Emmrich's last name is the equivalent of Smith, or Jones, or Wilson. (The "arin" part is just because I thought together it paired well with "volk")" [source, two]

User: "With Hezenkoss, as a romanced rook, it feels like she's a bit jealous and was stuck in a one sided crush with her "friend" Was this intended? Or was she just competitive and annoyed at his popularity with everyone?" // Sylvia: "I always pictured Hezenkoss as annoyed that as they grew up, Emmrich become popular and effortlessly well-liked, while she, with her sheer brilliance, was clearly resented by jealous fools. Fools!!! (I pictured Johanna needling Emmrich over his romance mostly her going 'now there's some nice sore-spots I can press' because she has correctly anticipated his insecurities.) "become popular" Arg I meant to write BECAME. Cripes." [source, two, three] // Sylvia: "TBC I also don't want to invalidate any head-canons! My general rule is that if it's not stated outright in game, it's up for interpretation, regardless of my thoughts. La mort de l'auteur, etc." [source]

User: "I recently made an appreciation post on reddit how relatable he is for me and how it helped me with my anxiety. There were also other users agreeing and sharing their love for the character." // Sylvia: "I read your post and the others, and I'm glad meeting Emmrich touched people like that. His story was a team effort, and everyone making him knew we needed to hit this theme right. (His actor Nick Boraine deserves especial praise for nailing those lines.) I have indeed experienced what Emmrich does, and from the thread and other fan interactions, it's not an uncommon thing. If I can offer something I read a long time ago: you have the right to think about death without being in a state of absolute fear. I don't know why, but that thought helped me focus when things were rough. Maybe because it was correct: we DO have that right. Even if life and our own psyches conspire against us, it's ours." [source, two, three] // User: "I felt seen in a way I never have when Emmrich said he is terrified of dying. I've had panic attacks about it since I was old enough to understand what death is. Thank you for making so many feel seen and helping people realize its not just *them.*" // Sylvia: "I'm really glad it helped, because the conclusion I've come to is this is more common than we think, it's just not something people talk about." [source]

Sylvia: "(Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on [re: Emmrich], he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source] // Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made him so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

Sylvia: ""who came up with Davrin's "hand-to-bone combat" line?? 🤣" Haha that was Davrin's writer, John Dombrow! I'll let him know you (and other people) got a chuckle out of it!" [source]

User, on Manfred: ""I'm so curious -what about the almonds caught his fancy, and why so many?" Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" // Sylvia: "Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" [source]

User: "When Rook romances Emmrich, through banter we can see that Emmrich is surprised that the other companions know about the relationship, and also h says to Johanna that it's a private matter. Is it because he wants to keep things private only, is it because he is worried that Rook may not be the one true love, or is he worried about the age gap, or all these reasons and/or others?" // Sylvia: "In this particular case, I think Emmrich just wanted to be discrete because he didn't want to assume it was a serious thing, and for people to think HE thought it was serious. (Though his line to Hezenkoss is snappish specifically because he knows she's needling him, haha.)" [source]

Sylvia: Down Among the Dead Men and Luck in the Gardens "mean a lot to me, being my first published stories in a book.)" [source]

User: "Are there any other areas of Thedas that you think young Altus mages would tour? Poor Dorian looked like a fish out of water in Ferelden." // Sylvia: "Completely talking off the cuff here, but Orlais and Antiva, certainly, and some of the "better" Free Marcher states seem like good candidates. (Poor Ferelden! Always forgotten by the north.)" [source]

User: "I know you said previously that emmrich doesn't really vibe with cats or dogs But like if rook already has a dog or something (that someone is like pet sitting for them while they're kicked out of their faction and traveling with varric) would that be a deal breaker" // Sylvia: "Nah that'd be fine, they're not his favorites but he'll put up with them for Rook." [source]

Sylvia: "I have indeed seen Cushing's version of Hound of the Baskervilles, for some reason that part where he whirls around and throws the knife is embedded into my brain. What a great Holmes he made." [source]

User: "1. Where did Emmrich live in Nevarar when he was a child? 2. When do you think his birthday is? 👀 3. How did Johanna know him?" // Sylvia: "1. He lived inside the bounds of Nevarra City itself. He's always been a city boy. 2. For some reason, he feels like a January/February birthday to me. 3. They met as young students in the Mourn Watch." [source]

User: "if Emmrich didn't think it was serious when he'd always wanted one true love -apparently-, why did he embark on this relationship, especially with so much passion?" // Sylvia: "I think he thought it wouldn't be so serious at first, but then things progressed. And people want conflicting things, sometimes." [source]

User: "I really love Strife being a love interest for Emmrich! What lead to him as the choice if he isn't romanced?" // Sylvia: "The writing team discussed who felt right, and I liked that Strife was from one of the factions because it gives the feeling of your followers interacting with the wider world. And I felt Strife would provide a nice contrast with the romance with Rook. Unlike them, he's more established in his place in the world, like Emmrich is. Just felt like a different dynamic." [source, two] // User: "Strife balances Emmrich well since they are both interested in study but have gone about it differently." // Sylvia: "Agreed! (I wish I had thought to put it like that.)" [source]

User: "how are pets and animals honoured in the Necropolis and by the Mourn Watchers? The same as any other being?" // Sylvia: "Beloved animals are absolutely permitted to be buried with families. Mild Necropolis exploration spoiler: inside the passage you unlock after finding all the wisps in the belfry area, there's actually some caskets for faithful hounds interred in the crypt." [source]

User: "My question is do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" // Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "how long has Manfred been under Emmrich's care?" // Sylvia: "That's a good question, yet another thing I left a little vague in case I needed to define it concretely in the future. And since I've left, the answer is very much in my head only. But I feel it's likely to have at least been a decade. (Hezenkoss acts like she knows about Manfred, I figure she could've met him during an earlier clash. But I don't think Manfred was around when she and Emmrich were young students.)" [source, two]

User: "if Emmrich had tattoos, on what theme would they be?" // Sylvia: "Something anatomical/surgical, patterned on the MW's mystic theories of the body and death, feels appropriate to me." [source]

Sylvia: "BioWare put out an infographic about choices a few weeks ago, and "lich" was winning out. 1) When Emmrich says how he feels will change did he just mean his senses or is it on an emotional level?" He's definitely talking about his senses in that scene. On an emotional level: unknown. (I imagine it WOULD change someone because it's such a big shift, but exactly what does it do, mystically, if anything, is something I'd like to leave alone since I didn't really cover that in the game, and it feels like it'd been bigger consideration if that makes sense.) I kind of want how the lich-romance proceeds to live in players' imaginations, purely so people can tailor it to their own story. I'm afraid any writer-declaration would narrow the possibilities instead of expanding them, if that makes sense." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia: ""I've been waiting for Nevarra for years and it was everything i could have dreamed of and MORE!" I'm very glad to hear it. The rest of the Necropolis team and I were very excited to finally get to portray even a small portion of the ancient and hallowed graves of Nevarra." [source]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm so glad you liked meeting and getting to know our necromancer. (Huge props to our cinematic and audio team on that garden scene, it was incredible seeing it come in finished for the first time.)" [source]

Allegra Clark: "I just wanted to say that I miss you so much and I’m so excited for whatever comes next in your career. Josephine means so much to me and I’ve fallen utterly in love with Emmrich (how dare you, he’s perfect). Thank you for trusting me with your child over a decade ago ❤️" [source] // Sylvia: "Allegra! Thank you so much! I'm so excited you've been digging our gentleman necromancer. I hope you've been seeing people ping me about their love of Josephine. I heard someone very good did her voice.. Thank YOU for embodying her so quickly and completely!" [source, two]

User: "how was Emmrich doing when Rook was trapped in the Fade?" // Sylvia: "Probably very poorly! Poor man would've been incredibly anxious and working all hours towards a solution." [source]

User: "So i asked you before what music emmrich does like but um is there any music he hates I feel like he'd die if someone took him to a death metal concert XD" // Sylvia: "I think that's a good one to pick, lol. "It's all just noise!"" [source]

User: "Did Emmrich teach (or at least attempt to teach) Manfred how to read?" // Sylvia: "I think that was beyond his skillset, beforehand; Manfred could be taught to recognize objects, but the abstraction of reading was one step too much at that point." [source]

User: "Do Mourn Watchers undergo a Harrowing?" // Sylvia: "They do! You may've missed it but there's a MWer in the Necropolis who mentions MW Harrowings if you go by them. (The MW has had to suspend theirs because chaos in the Fade.) But that's a temporary suspension, probably resolved by the time the credits roll. In general: I figure that if you're a mage who underwent a harrowing in some other circle, that stands, but that the MW would also perform harrowings for students they took in early. Also: not a silly question! It doesn't really come up with the MW except that one ambient line, and it's very easy to miss." [source, two, three]

User: "Doing a 3rd MW playthrough after not playing one for a couple of months feels like coming home again" // Sylvia: "That's some commitment to the dead! The Mourn Watch approve." [source]

User: "if two mourn watchers were to share a piece of grave dowry between them, that's grounds for a serious relationship?" // Sylvia: "You mean like each one having the half of a necklace, or having the same bit of gold made into matching rings? Or swapping jewelry? Either way, what a nice idea. It could be!" [source]

Sylvia: "Emmrichwas very much the work of the team, including some very good feedback early on from the other writers and editors." [source]

Sylvia: "The team and I were also super excited to get to explore the Necropolis. It was an honour to open up the tombs to everyone." [source]

User: "Emmerich's particular respect for trans characters was extremely enticing to me." // Sylvia: "Thanks, I'm glad he resonated. (Some trans colleagues kindly spent the time to give me some feedback on the wording of the lines, which I think made them way better.)" [source]

User: "Emmrich is so amazing" // Sylvia: "Thank you again, that is incredible to hear. (And I want to mention, only possible with the team; they helped improve the story every step.)" [source]

Sylvia: Tevinter Nights "was a fun collection to work on" [source]

User: "Does lich Emmrich feel anything when Rook kisses him or touches him?" // Sylvia: "yeah, I don't think he's "numb" so to speak, he can sense a touch (with his new powers from beyond the graaaaaave 🪦💀🌹)" [source]

User: "about Emmrich so i know he's into flowers and botany but is he into plant meanings and symbolism" // Sylvia: "I think he is - Emmrich mentions some flowers that are "famed in verse and song", I think he'd enjoy reading up on the cultural importance and symbolism layered on to them." [source]

User: "Obv the game mechanics require Rook to make the choice but would a romanced Emmrich choose to become a Lich if the choice was in his hands? Would he abandon his dream for love?" // Sylvia: "I must refuse to answer on the grounds that it's too melancholy to contemplate. ;_;" [source]

User: "On the dinner date in the Necropolis I loved how Emmrich felt philosophical, it was so relatable, especially when he talked about the connection to something finer than we are. It was magical!" // Sylvia: "I'm really pleased that last part of the dinner date, resonated with you, I was trying really hard to get a certain feeling across." [source]

User: "What month do you think Emmrich was born in? I really wanna know what my guy's zodiac sign is" // Sylvia: "I don't know anything about zodiac stuff but weirdly, I do have a range, for some reason I always thought it'd be January or February." [source]

User: "1. How does Emmrich feel about children, both in general and possibly having them? 2. Would Emmrich be into gift-giving?" // Sylvia: "1. In general, he likes kids okay, and tries to be kind, but his students are mostly older so he doesn't really chat with many. Regarding having them, if circumstances aligned so that was the case, I think he'd be excited if maybe a little overwhelmed by the thought. 2. I think so! Not overbearing about it, but he would like to show some tokens of affection at appropriate times. (There's no way he's not delighted to get gifts.)" [source, two]

User: A more recent one but thanks to Sylvia Feketekuty it was the whole arc with Emmrich and his fear of dying because it's something I often experience myself and I don't think it's ever been addressed in a video game before and it was done so well in DA:TV too." // Sylvia: "Thank you so much! It means a lot to me too, to hear that it resonated with you." [source]

Sylvia: [Emmrich] "was the work of many other devs we're toasting here too, everyone working on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch went fully in." [source]

User: "I've wanted to thank you for all your work on DA. Emmrich, Manfred, and the Necropolis kept me going through some rough months. I was delighted to learn that you wrote Josephine too. I hope to see more of your work in the future. You're an amazing writer." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Kobra! And I'm very glad that meeting Emmrich and exploring the necropolis brought you some comfort." [source]

User: "One more question, if I may-- Is there any lore you can share about how pet remains are treated in Nevarra? I think I remember skeletal horses pulling a carriage in TN. (This might have something to do with me picking up my dead rabbit's cleaned skull from a taxidermist today and having Feels)." // Sylvia: "Beloved pets and other animal companions are very often interred along with their families. (You can actually see the burial place of some hounds in the corridor that opens up once you find all the wisps in the belfry. It was such an nice touch added by the level artist and level designer.)" [source]

User: "What would you say is the most important holiday in Nevarra? Or The Necropolis and how do they celebrate it?" // Sylvia: "I have nothing canonical written down or the like. But if I had to pick one, it would be the autumn ancestral pageants. There's the obvious connection with real life celebrations around death in in the fall, and the Mourn Watch and other mortalitasi would certainly come out for that." [source]

Sylvia: "

User: A more recent one but thanks to Sylvia Feketekuty it was the whole arc with Emmrich and his fear of dying because it's something I often experience myself and I don't think it's ever been addressed in a video game before and it was done so well in DA:TV too." // Sylvia: "Thank you so much! It means a lot to me too, to hear that it resonated with you." [source]

Sylvia: [Emmrich] "was the work of many other devs we're toasting here too, everyone working on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch went fully in." [source]

User: "I've wanted to thank you for all your work on DA. Emmrich, Manfred, and the Necropolis kept me going through some rough months. I was delighted to learn that you wrote Josephine too. I hope to see more of your work in the future. You're an amazing writer." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Kobra! And I'm very glad that meeting Emmrich and exploring the necropolis brought you some comfort." [source]

User: "One more question, if I may-- Is there any lore you can share about how pet remains are treated in Nevarra? I think I remember skeletal horses pulling a carriage in TN. (This might have something to do with me picking up my dead rabbit's cleaned skull from a taxidermist today and having Feels)." // Sylvia: "Beloved pets and other animal companions are very often interred along with their families. (You can actually see the burial place of some hounds in the corridor that opens up once you find all the wisps in the belfry. It was such an nice touch added by the level artist and level designer.)" [source]

User: "What would you say is the most important holiday in Nevarra? Or The Necropolis and how do they celebrate it?" // Sylvia: "I have nothing canonical written down or the like. But if I had to pick one, it would be the autumn ancestral pageants. There's the obvious connection with real life celebrations around death in in the fall, and the Mourn Watch and other mortalitasi would certainly come out for that." [source]

Sylvia: "

User: A more recent one but thanks to Sylvia Feketekuty it was the whole arc with Emmrich and his fear of dying because it's something I often experience myself and I don't think it's ever been addressed in a video game before and it was done so well in DA:TV too." // Sylvia: "Thank you so much! It means a lot to me too, to hear that it resonated with you." [source]

Sylvia: [Emmrich] "was the work of many other devs we're toasting here too, everyone working on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch went fully in." [source]

User: "I've wanted to thank you for all your work on DA. Emmrich, Manfred, and the Necropolis kept me going through some rough months. I was delighted to learn that you wrote Josephine too. I hope to see more of your work in the future. You're an amazing writer." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Kobra! And I'm very glad that meeting Emmrich and exploring the necropolis brought you some comfort." [source]

User: "One more question, if I may-- Is there any lore you can share about how pet remains are treated in Nevarra? I think I remember skeletal horses pulling a carriage in TN. (This might have something to do with me picking up my dead rabbit's cleaned skull from a taxidermist today and having Feels)." // Sylvia: "Beloved pets and other animal companions are very often interred along with their families. (You can actually see the burial place of some hounds in the corridor that opens up once you find all the wisps in the belfry. It was such an nice touch added by the level artist and level designer.)" [source]

User: "What would you say is the most important holiday in Nevarra? Or The Necropolis and how do they celebrate it?" // Sylvia: "I have nothing canonical written down or the like. But if I had to pick one, it would be the autumn ancestral pageants. There's the obvious connection with real life celebrations around death in in the fall, and the Mourn Watch and other mortalitasi would certainly come out for that." [source]

Sylvia: "Saw another misconception I wanted to clear up - I saw someone attribute Calpernia and Samson's quests in DAI to me. Not so! Those fine quests and characters were written by Jo Berry" [source] // Jo Berry: "And you took great care of them when I went on to other things 💙" [source] // Sylvia: "It was a pleasure!" [source]

User: "Are you happy with the theme Hans Zimmer and Lorne Balfe gave for him and the Mourn Watch? For me I love hearing it, cause it truly suits him!" // Sylvia: "I loved the theme! I worked with our music director Ron Dazo to explain the character to them, and I think they all nailed it. A solid character theme needs to be able be remixed for different purposes, and this action version is also one of my favorite tracks: [link]" [source]

User: "Not so much needing a massive explanation more curiosity after a friend and I have been conspiratorial for fun: do you think that Nevarra had their own religion before the Chantry became the most common religion in the country? That they worshipped a different deity or deities?" // Sylvia: "Took me a moment to double check, but Nevarra canonically had a history of animism in the distant past with the Planasene tribes. So probably yes, though we've left the nature of the animism fuzzy." [source]

[question about a 'Veiljumper triangle language'] // Sylvia: "Oh dang, I'm sorry I don't know at all. (The reason some MW-language inscriptions have a real meaning, and some are just gibberish, is that I suggested it'd be fun to do translatable words. But by the time I brought that up, some objects with that script had already been outsourced and completed.) It could be those triangles have no real-world translation, but this is a case where my guess is as good as yours." [source, two]

User: "is 'hot undead' a thing?" // Sylvia: "haha! I must leave that to the interpretations of the viewer"

[waitineedaname]

POV for the no excuses writing meme, please 👀 (i love this game so much!)

a bit of context: this is for my lesbingqiu wip inspired by that "can yuo put that out on me" tweet! the wip is from binghe's pov, so here's shen yuan instead. she strikes me as the kind of person to think being thirty makes her old (it does not lol)

--

Shen Yuan wasn't sure why Shang Qinghua had insisted on dragging her out drinking if she was just going to abandon her at the first sight of her situationship across the bar. She didn't care if Shang Qinghua insisted she needed to go out more! She had work to do! Never mind that her "work" these days mostly amounted to opening her dissertation document, glaring at it for an hour, and then closing it again. She was simply getting too old to go out drinking. She was thirty now; she might as well join a knitting circle if Qinghua was that worried about her social life.

She continued grumbling to herself as she lit her cigarette. It was much quieter outside the bar, though she could still feel the music thumping through the wall behind her. She would give Shang Qinghua another five or ten minutes to prove she hadn't completely forgotten about her, just long enough to take a smoke break, and then she'd leave. She could go home, change into her pyjamas, and spend the evening working through her reading list like she'd originally intended.

Her plans were interrupted by a sudden spike in the bar's volume as someone opened the door and stumbled out into the alley beside her. Shen Yuan nearly dropped her cigarette as she was suddenly confronted by the most absurdly beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

She wondered deliriously for a moment whether there had been a modelling event that she didn't know about, because there was no other explanation for a woman this gorgeous being loose in the wild. Her dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and she had the kind of artful curls that Shen Yuan thought only existed in professionally styled wigs. Her bone structure was fine, and her skin was perfect. Seriously, was Shen Yuan hallucinating?!

The woman was also, Shen Yuan realized, extremely drunk. She stumbled over her high heels, reaching out to support herself on the wall with a groan. Shen Yuan's hands itched to reach out and support her, but she resisted the impulse.

"Are you alright?" she asked instead. The woman looked up, startled, eyes wide as if she hadn't realized Shen Yuan was there. Absolutely no way those eyelashes were real. They had to be falsies.

The woman made a slightly incoherent noise, and Shen Yuan frowned. How drunk was she? She then abruptly stood up straighter, though she was clearly still supporting herself on the wall.

"I'm fine," she said, surprising Shen Yuan with a low, smooth voice like honey. "I just needed some fresh air."

Shen Yuan nodded sympathetically. Poor thing. "Drink a little too much?"

The other woman's lips pursed in a pout. "My friend ordered shots," she explained.

And then just let her wander off?! Shen Yuan would like a word with this friend of hers. "You should be careful with those," she cautioned. "They can get you drunk very fast."

The woman nodded with the earnestness of an eager student. "Jiejie is very wise."

Oh, she was far too cute. Is this what people were referring to when they talked about blessed interactions between drunk girls at a bar? Never mind that Shen Yuan was hardly buzzed herself. She wanted to pat this girl's head and give her more wisdom, even if this wasn't really her area of expertise.

"Would jiejie keep me company while I sober up?" asked the other woman, her speech slightly slurred and her dark eyes pleading. As if Shen Yuan could say no to eyes like that!

"Of course." Shen Yuan nodded. It was her responsibility, after all! A code of sisterhood, to look out for drunk girls! "What's your name?"

"Luo Binghe." She found a more comfortable position leaning against the wall, resulting in her curls spilling over her chest. Shen Yuan foolishly tracked the motion, then forced her eyes back up to Luo Binghe's face. Aiyah! That dress really left very little to the imagination! Wasn't she cold?! Should Shen Yuan offer her jacket? "What should I call jiejie?"

"Shen Yuan." She lifted her cigarette to her lips and took another drag in the hopes that it would make Luo Binghe's appearance less distracting. Luo Binghe was staring at her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. "Are you here for some special occasion?"

Luo Binghe just continued to stare at her for a while. Poor thing, she really must be drunk. Shen Yuan knew how slowly she processed things when she was drunk. She could be patient with the girl. "My friends wanted to celebrate me starting graduate school," Luo Binghe eventually explained. Her pretty features pulled in a slight frown. "I think it's just an excuse for them to get drunk."

Shen Yuan chuckled at the petulance on Luo Binghe's face. "Maybe, but that’s a worthy thing to celebrate. Congratulations on starting grad school."

"Thank you, Shen-jie." Luo Binghe's expression softened into a smile again, still laser-focused on Shen Yuan's face.

Shen Yuan took a moment to look Luo Binghe over again. Grad school, huh? Shen Yuan struggled to believe that, but she couldn't see why Luo Binghe would lie. It's just, Shen Yuan was in graduate school, and she felt horribly outclassed by the girl in front of her. With looks like hers, she could easily become an idol or something! She didn't deserve to waste away in academia like Shen Yuan, though she admired Luo Binghe's academic drive. And so young, too...

"You seem awfully young for grad school," Shen Yuan said. It could be that she just took good care of herself, but she wouldn't have been surprised if she'd said she was still an undergrad. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-five," Luo Binghe said.

"Twenty-five," Shen Yuan repeated. Twenty-five! And she was here, talking to thirty year old Shen Yuan outside a bar. Shen Yuan's earlier impression was right; this really was not the scene for her. "I think I’m officially too old for this bar. People will think I’m a creep if I keep coming around here." She took another drag from her cigarette, feeling morose over her age. "When I graduated high school, you would’ve been thirteen. Isn’t that weird?"

It had seemed like Luo Binghe was sobering up, but she suddenly wobbled on her heels. She was staring intensely at the cigarette in Shen Yuan's hand. "Can you put that out on me?" she slurred.

Shen Yuan's heart rate spiked. Ah! How could she be so oblivious? What kind of helpful jiejie was she if she was blowing smoke in Luo Binghe's direction?! "Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked if it was okay to smoke near you. I’ll put it out." She quickly ground it out on the wall. Luo Binghe made a pitiful noise of complaint, but that's okay, Shen Yuan had this handled now! No more smoke when Luo Binghe had specifically wanted to get fresh air!

"I know it’s a bad habit," Shen Yuan attempted to make an excuse for herself, her fingers itching with nervous energy. "It gives me something to do with my mouth and hands. I guess I should get a fidget cube or something less bad for me, but…" She trailed off with an awkward laugh.

Luo Binghe's eyes were still wide and slightly wet, fixated on her hands. Poor thing, the smoke must've made her eyes water. She opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by the door to the bar opening with a slam.

"Bing-jie!" A girl burst out of the bar, covered in jangling jewellery and not much in the way of actual clothing. She latched onto Luo Binghe's arm, speaking way too loudly to be sober. "You left your Ling-er all alone in the bar!"

Luo Binghe's expression immediately soured, but based on the way she didn't shove the other girl away, it was clear she knew her. Ah, Shen Yuan realized. This must be the friend who'd ordered the shots. Well, she'd just been planning to keep an eye on Luo Binghe until she sobered up or a friend joined her, and here was the friend. Her company was no longer needed here.

"I should probably get going," Shen Yuan said, giving Luo Binghe a soft smile. She had been scowling at her friend, but when she looked back up at Shen Yuan, her eyes were wide and puppyish again. "Get home safe, okay?"

Luo Binghe nodded, once again reminding her of an earnest student. "I will, Shen-jie."

Shen Yuan waved and left the alleyway. She sighed and pulled out her phone to call a cab. Shang Qinghua could find her own way home. Serves her right.

Still, the night wasn't a complete wash. Even as she made her way home, her thoughts drifted back to Luo Binghe. Did she get home alright? Was she drinking enough water? Would she be too hungover in the morning? A girl that pretty and that drunk could be a real target for unsavory people. Shen Yuan didn't doubt that she could handle herself -- those arms of hers were impressive -- but she couldn't help but worry.

Ah, well. Worrying wouldn't do her any good. It's not like they'd ever see each other again.

She put thoughts of Luo Binghe aside and decided to put her energy towards preparing orientation for her department's incoming graduate students.

[silentium-symphony]

Spoiled Rotten (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) needed a break from now watch me whip, so here's some smut :) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

i didn’t really mean to make a sequel for Starved, it just kinda happened 💀 can def stand alone tho! i don't typically write a dominant reader, but i had a lot of fun trying smth new :) i hope you enjoy ♡

cw: afab!reader, mentioned somnophilia (like one line), swearing, nice and fluffy in the beginning, ya'll being absolute BRATS to each other oml, taking turns dominating the other :), link once again having the dirtiest mouth in the world, spreading you on all fours, riding link like the gorgeous stallion he is

wc: 5.8k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Passerine warbles teased your consciousness from the lands of slumber to the realm of morning. A curtain of colors whisped behind your eyelids and you felt the warmth of the sunbeam conveniently placed on your eyes; cracking them open a smidgen spelled the death of your pupils as you were immediately blinded by its solar glory.

Your head lulled to the side, still very much weighted by sleep, and came face-to-face with your lightly snoring husband. His golden brows were pulled into a relaxed arch, no longer featuring a drawn, terse look. His cheeks, smushed into the pillow, slotted perfectly in your hand and you stroked them fondly. A soft moan left him and you could feel the little bits of tension in his jaw disappear completely. Looking further down, you saw his neck and chest littered with hickeys galore; your lips tingled hotly.

You lifted the arm that was dangled loosely over your waist with great care, gauging his expression for any hint of discomfort or arousal. You were genuinely shocked he didn't slug his arm over you and hug you tighter as he normally would. While setting his arm down in front of you, you saw bright red scratch marks running up and down his arms. Highlights of last night pervaded your mind and it took a considerable amount of mental fortitude to not start grinding against his bare member. Additionally, thinking about how he abused your cunt with his incessant pounding started to fill you up with post-orgasm sleepiness--not what you wanted when you were trying to get out of bed.

And he did all that right after he got back. Y'know... It makes sense why he'd be knocked out.

Your lips ghosted atop his twitching eyelids while you slinked out of bed and oNTO THE FLOOR OH SWEET HYLIA

A hand flew to the corner of your bedstand and you somehow managed to catch yourself before you ate shit. Link really diddly darn fucked you 'til your legs gave out, huh? Can't say you were complaining--

You hauled yourself up, your knees shivering and buckling from the arduous task of existing in an upright position. You scooted closer to your shared dresser, the smooth walls acting as support, and you slipped on one of Link's shirts. His scent wrapped around you comfortingly and was reminiscent of one of his hugs. There was also the added benefit of Link really liking you in his clothes--a fact you very much took advantage of.

With the wall still acting as your cane, you made the trepidatious trip to the kitchen.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

You balanced two plates of fried eggs and rice on a small wooden tray, complete with silverware, water, and two mug cakes! You managed to find the recipe haphazardly scribbled down on a random piece of parchment. You thought it looked delectable and hoped he thought the same.

You limped ambled your way to the bedroom and opened the old door as gingerly as possible.

Unluckily for you (and him, now that you thought about it), the wakeful tendencies stemming from the extreme sport of sleeping alone in the wilderness kicked in and his ears visibly twitched, disturbed by the softest sounds from across the room. He shuffled quickly and turned to you, his eyes still drooped with sleep.

"Mm... g'morn..." His nose quivered. "What smells so good...?"

"Breakfast!"

:O

:D

"Breakfast? In bed?" He could barely contain his excitement.

"Breakfast in bed!"

He sat up, propping and fluffing the pillows as you made your way over to him. He clapped and rubbed his hands in glee.

"Oh! Are those...?" The gears in Link's head buffered and churned.

"Mug cakes!" You set the tray down on his lap and saddled next to him.

"Mug cakes!!!" He returned your gleeful energy. "They look delicious, darling."

"Thank you, dear." You shoveled a fluffy mound of rice topped with an equally fluffy piece of egg in your mouth and sighed contently. He leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before dipping to your ear.

"Not as delicious as you though." He breathed, eyeing the plain white shirt hanging from your frame. You gasped at the sensation of heat tickling your neck and your palm connected with the backside of his head.

"Ow!" He pouted. "Unnecessary."

"J-Just eat the damn food!" Clearly flustered, you scraped more food into your mouth and promptly turned away from him. He laughed while smoothing out your bedhead before chowing down on the simple spread before him.

"How're you feeling? I'm sorry for being a bit... rough last night."

Good sir you almost broke my back and yours "a bit?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. "Okay, fine, but my question still stands--how're you feeling?"

"I'm all right! My... Legs were pretty weak this morning." You shrunk, feeling Link's ego swell. You could practically feel the smirk on his face.

"Were you okay climbing out of bed this morning? You didn't fall, did you?"

You were so thankful he couldn't see the imaginary sweat beading down your brow.

"Nope! All good!"

"Glad to hear it."

Your conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence as you both relished in each other's company and the food. While you finished up the main dish, Link dipped his spoon into the gooey mug cake and almost kicked his feet in childlike joy.

"This is amazing! It tastes just like your hugs!"

Your heart simultaneously fluttered and melted into one big goop.

"Heheh... And what, good sir, do my hugs taste like?"

"Hm..." He leaned in and glomped onto you. "Warm... Soft... Sweet..."

While you were basking in his warm embrace, you didn't notice the sly hand sneaking for the hem of your shirt. Warm digits traced up your torso and cusped your breasts; a pleasurable chill shuddered through you.

"Tantalizing..." He husked, lowering you onto your back. "Enchanting..."

He showered your neck with gentle pecks and retraced the bruises and nips he planted on your skin the night before. Your arms wrapped loosely around him, pulling him closer. You could feel his dick begin to throb with heat.

"Mm... Link..."

Guuuurgle...

Oh.

He pulled away from you, light, innocent giggles bouncing between the two of you.

"Let's take our time today, okay?"

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

After clearing breakfast and cuddling for an hour or so, you both finally got up and started your day. Link volunteered to wash the dirty dishes while you put away the... scattered clothes from last night. Tidying the room to your liking, you came down to meet your husband.

Whose got his lean, toned, battle-scarred back turned to you.

Your love marks from last night were due to join his never-ending collection of scars--at least for the coming weeks. A wicked smile crossed your lips and you stalked toward him, tiptoes feeling around the squeaky floorboards.

He soaped up the water some more and smiled at the bubbles that floated to his nose, humming a happy lil' tune, completely oblivious to your sinful intentions. As he dipped a plate into the soapy basin, arms wrapped around his torso and he felt something warm and soft trace his back and sides.

His next exhale caught in his throat and he sputtered... some type of exclamation. As quickly as it tensed, his sinewy muscles grew lax in your embrace, melting into your touch. He adored the way your mouth hungrily suctioned to his old scars and how divine it felt for your hands to caress him, rubbing soothing patterns into sore spots he never knew he had.

You worked your way up and brushed your lips along the still-fresh scratches on his shoulders. You painted them with tender, loving kisses as your hand drifted lower and lower...

"You're marked up so nicely for me..." Your fingers coasted the prominent bulge in his pants and he bit back a whine. "I'm going to have so much fun with you."

Hands spun his waist around and his eyes flew shut, fully expecting to feel your lips slam into his as you took him right then and there.

...?

Except... You didn't...?

His eyes cracked open to his beloved's absence, confounded. A bright, chirpy whistle had him swiveling his head for a double take and he saw you happily drying the dishes he washed. Like nothing happened.

"You okay, love?" You looked at him through your lashes. "You've got stars in your eyes."

Said eyes twitched.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The sun was still high up in the sky when you finished torturing the poor man with your household chores. The door swung open; Link went out first, bucket and brush in hand, while you stayed at the door for just a moment longer. The open windows couldn't quite demonstrate the soul-cleansing power of the fresh winds and you relished the wind tugging through your hair. Your lungs expanded as much as they could, filling themselves with the scent of home-tinged wilderness, before breathing out.

Epona's happy nickers tickled your ears and you drew closer to the duo. Link was going through her sleek coat, brushing it of dirt and grime while you filled her troughs with fresh hay and clean water. You threw yourself onto Epona and gave her fluttering kisses on her snout and neck, singing praises into the ears of your equestrian friend and thanking her repeatedly for bringing Link back home safely.

Link, smiling, grabbed the bucket and left her stall.

"I'm gonna grab some more water."

You acknowledged him with a bright "mm" and turned your attention to Epona, who was lovingly nuzzling your neck. Your husband rounded the corner and disappeared behind your house--you waited a few moments.

Now was your chance.

You flew out of her stall and veered into your house, cramming as many apples as you could hold in your arms, and practically teleported back to her stall. The sweet mare let out the happiest whinny you've ever heard and pawed the ground with anticipation. You peered over your shoulder as you presented her her favorite treats and prayed to Hylia Link's bucket broke or something. Just... Please Goddess, stall him for a bit.

Link loves hates it when you tease him with the 'nonsense' of Epona liking you more. You remembered the first time you brought up such a notion and Link was quick to scoff at your claims, assuring you that he and Epona share a bond like no other. The sweet, sweet look on his face when Epona responded to your voice and not his that one time never left your mind. To add insult to injury, not only did she straight up ignore the blonde--she clopped away from Link and over to you, leaving her beloved rider in the literal and metaphorical dust. Link reverted back to silence for the rest of the day.

Besides! She works just as hard as Link in keeping Hyrule safe. She deserves all the treats in the world.

Epona made quick work of the bushel and pressed her snout to you for more. You laughed and gently pushed her away, kissing her nose as you did. You turned around, half-expecting to see your husband with a silly exasperated look on his face; no one. You rocked on your heels, keeping a steady stream of pats on Epona's neck as you craned yours to find your beloved. Where was he?

The familiar knot of worry pitted your stomach and, pressing one final nuzzle into Epona, left her stall. You followed the trail your love had taken several minutes ago, careening your neck around the corner. The well sat unattended and the bucket your husband carried laid on its side. You approached the scene carefully, your lips forming into a 'Link?'

A pair of hands dug into your waist; your vision whizzed into a blend of colors, the back of your house bleeding into the scene of a little alcove. You barely had time to think let alone scream before something hot and wet muffled your lips. Your assailant pressed you further into the wall, pinning your arms above your head and coasting his digits up your thigh. Link's handsome features flooded your view and you moaned into the kiss, feeling your core grow hot with need.

He moved himself between your legs and gyrated his clothed tip against your engorged and sensitive bud. Your lips pulled away with a pop and he busied himself tarnishing your neck once again, reinforcing the lighter bruises already beginning to fade and making new ones in previously unexplored spots. His pants grew uncomfortably tight as he listened to the pathetic whimpers dripping out of you.

"Shh..." A playful kiss lapped your collarbone. "Not so loud hun, someone might hear..."

You fussed and squirmed under his treatment, his mischievous, nippy kisses along your skin sending your thoughts into overdrive. You hadn't even noticed your hips rolling faster, sloppier against him as your heat craved that sweet friction. Link felt your juices seep through the thin fabric of his pants and moisten the head of his cock.

"Look at you, making a mess all over me..." He sang, nibbling the lobe of your ear.

His hands left your wrist to find solace at the back of your thighs. With a grunt, he hoisted you into a seated position and pressed his full weight against yours, nullifying any chance for escape. Your legs hung uselessly at his hips as he continued moving against you in both body and lip.

His mouth moved to capture the beginnings of your breasts, suckling the curve of your mound until your chest glistened with his spit. He looked up at you through trembling lashes, committing your hooded gaze, gaping mouth, and flushed cheeks to memory.

The tips of your toes grazed the ground as Link lowered you delicately before he not so delicately spun you round and slammed your front against the wall. The sudden impact knocked what was left of precious air out of your lungs and your brain roared, the organ already doubling over from a pleasure-kissed lightheadedness.

Calloused hands connected with the soft of your inner thighs, flowing it open and dragging a finger, slow and deliberate, across your clothed folds. You all but screamed his name, his previous warnings to keep it quiet muddling with lusty bliss. Wet, hot breaths on bits of your exposed back sent your eyes rolling into your head and you balled your fists at the thought of him taking you here and now.

You felt his weight leave your form and you waited with growing impatience for him to be rid of his clothes. Your eyes were still squinted shut as you whined, trying to push your rear against his tented crotch hungrily.

He's... further away than you expected. How big is this alcove...?

You looked over your shoulder, confusion meddling with your arousal, and caught a glimpse of blonde swaggering away from you as if nothing had happened.

Heart thundering, legs quivering, blood rushing, your bent frame crumbled in on itself as your knees gave out from under you.

"LINK!!!"

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Safe to say by the time dinner rolled around, the two of you could hardly look at each other and any attempts at making small talk felt like Ganon shooting his piss into your eyes. Any semblance of Link in your brain always ended up with him either railing you or you fucking him until collapse.

You looked up from your plate to grab the water pitcher before you and you could feel the darkness glimmering in his eyes, heavy with lust and frustration. Your thighs grinded against each other, hoping to satiate the growing need to stimulate yourself even if only a little.

You were one look away from pinning him onto the dining table and fucking him until he was a babbling, crying mess under you. Unbeknownst to you (not really), Link happened to share those same sentiments.

Hylia, you were so horny for each other and your skin felt aflamed by his absence. But... you'd be lying if you said you didn't find a sick pleasure in watching you and him squirm under each other's heavy gaze, seeing how long either of you could last before one of you bites the arrow and takes the other.

"(F/N)."

You jolted at the sound of your own name and looked up into Link's blown-out pupils and barely parted lips, moistened with spit. Not a word was spoken between the two bodies; a velvety darkness took hold of your chest and you absently felt your feet march over to your husband before locking lips with his in messy desperation. Your hands explored the warmth of his skin, rubbing the back of his shoulders, his face, his chest. With a small tug on your wrist, you fell into his lap and he steadied you with level hands. You rolled your hips against his aching cock, teasing his stiffness with every sultry sway.

His lips latched onto your shoulder and his teeth sunk into the soft flesh, feeling your body shiver against his. He moved in time with your motions, rocking you faster against his dick that sweltered with desire. His chair skitted back and his hands flew to your ass, squeezing the soft, plump flesh as he carried you to the bedroom. Your legs hugged his torso to keep yourself up as he blindly fumbled with the doorknob, impatience ticking both your features.

He swung the door open, the shockwave from the sudden slam knocking down whatever trinket or picture was hanging on the wall. You paid little mind to the clamor of knick-knacks as Link tripped onto the bed, his back sinking into the soft mattress and you adding to his weight. You braced your hands on the sides of his head while his found your hips, fondling and diveting the soft flesh.

Languid lips moved with his before traveling towards his jawline and down to the soft skin of his neck, lapping it with butterfly kisses. A shaky breath all but stopped at the base of his throat as he saw you trail red, hot pecks along the dip of his shoulder and down to his chest, assaulting his lust-stricken senses with a campaign of pleasure. You looked up at him teasingly, swirling the tip of your tongue about his perked nipple.

Link's eyes fluttered close as a breathy sigh left him, his hips bucking wildly against your own. He tried so hard to catch his breath, but every roll, every graze, everything flared a white flame throughout his core. His mind was slipping, he could feel it, but by the gods did he do his damnest to savor every little sensation he would feel tonight.

Your hands quickly discarded your undergarments and flew to the hem of your shirt, tossing it aside like you've done hundreds of times before. Link followed suit, doing the extra step of lifting his hips (you still on top) to shimmy his pants off. He kicked the offending fabric off the bed and you both sighed, enjoying the pleasurable tingles the cool night air brought to your hottest spots. You lifted yourself and slowly rubbed your folds all over him, drinking in his dirty mewls like it would be the last thing you tasted. Something dark snapped into your husband's eyes as a hand left your hip to cruelly flick your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A whine lapsed out of your mouth and you bobbed your dripping cunt up and down his tip. A growl countered your moans while his thumb rubbed long, teasing circles about your clit. Nails dug into the swordsman's thighs as tears clouded your vision.

"You want to play this game?" His eyes read. "Fine. Let's see who wins."

You're unceremoniously pushed forward by his limbs and your chest lands squarely atop his face. Link's muffled moans hummed between your mounds and you sighed, head lolling forward. You scooted your hole closer towards his propped thighs, dipping just past his angry head and taking a little bit more of him in your cunt. You whorled your hips slothfully, savoring the way he rubbed every corner of your entrance. Teeth dug punishingly into your nipples and worked the small buds until they were raw and red from abuse. A hot, sloppy tongue swirled around the aching buds, matching the pace with your hips.

It took everything in you to not let out the sweet cry bubbling in your chest as you pulled and twisted his soft golden locks, determined to break this man before he broke you. Without any warning, you rammed your cheeks against his thigh, taking all of him in one go; you both choked as you stretched to accommodate his length and girth while your caving walls sent him to cloud nine.

Link was the first to cry out, with you following shortly after. Still remembering the game you were playing, you slid off him almost completely before slamming yourself down again with a force that got him seeing stars. Knuckles tightened around your waist and nails dug into your supple softness as the man beneath you writhed with untold pleasures. Your throbbing heat begged you to wait, to adjust to his size, but you were so focused on getting him whimpering under you that you brushed the sensual shock off.

Link adjusted himself slightly to naturally hasten your rolls; you also adjusted yourself in a bid to level the control you had over him. You decided your gait, not him. Soft hands went to pry the battle-worn digits off your side but were promptly met with a sharp slap over your wrists, gluing them to one spot. As he positioned you slightly angled above his pelvis, his smirk countered your falling expression as you began to realize the compromising position you were in.

Not wasting any time, Link roughly entered your hole, keeping you right where he wanted you for maximum pleasure. His sudden entrance elicited the sweetest calls for his name and you threw your head back, barely keeping yourself together. Try as you might, you couldn't wriggle free from his grip (though he loved watching your futile attempts, your countenance contorting into the prettiest, sluttiest faces). Your hands twitched and convulsed, wrists writhing uselessly against your side as he hastened his thrusts.

"Nngh! Link! S-Slow--please!"

"Hm? What was that?" He asked coolly, exertion inapparent in his voice.

"T-Too fast--Link, I c-can’t--"

"Oh, but you took me so well last night. Besides, I'm having fun watching you struggle like this." He snickered, watching the rebellious glint in your eyes dull into something lustful. You were trying so hard to pry from his grasp. You thought you could break him first? How cute.

Link's head rolled into the bed as he felt you stretch and expand with every thrust, locking his cock in a vice grip. Gods, you were so tight. And warm. And wet. He cursed under his breath as he watched your juices pool at the base of his cock. His clasp unknowingly began to loosen.

Slackening just enough for you to wiggle free. He gasped, no longer feeling your convulsing hands under his and before he knew it, those same hands that got you under his control were pinned above him. You laughed something wicked as you sat promptly on his dick, stilling his wild pistoning. He felt small under your piercing gaze, like some prey item looking up at its predator. You leaned down and nipped his ear lobe, a soft whine escaping him.

"My turn." You purred, rolling against him painfully slow and giving your abused cunt a much-needed break. A groan rumbled out of him the instant he stopped pounding your insides at unimaginable speeds. You fought the wrists that tried to pull away from you and locked his lips with yours, tongue and teeth mashing sloppily against the other. Frustrated at your own slow pace, you took your rolls up a notch--fast enough to keep his mind from imploding but not enough to give it the release he craved.

"Please, just a bit faster..." He sputtered, pleading.

"Do you really think you're in a position to be giving orders?" You cooed. "Don't rush me."

Your hips lulled into a steady rhythm that was a step faster than what you were previously going. Link turned into a fumbling mess under you, filling your bedroom with his begging whines and gasps for more. With one hand still pinning him down, the other grazed the various scars that littered his abdomen. Your tongue swiped your bottom lip while you watched the outline of his abs convulse with each pleasure-stricken breath. Every one of your touches, every one of your kisses, every sloppy squelch your wet hole made as it took him whole fogged his mind with ecstasy.

"Mm! You've been so good... Letting me use your cock..." You whipped your hips forward, grip tightening around his wrists. The Hero of Hyrule's pathetic little whimpers traveled to your ears and you looked down at the whining man squirming underneath you, tears prodding his eyes.

"You like that? Hm? You like it when I bounce on your hard, hard cock?" You accentuated each word with a snap of your hips. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a cry of pleasure.

"Please... Please, let me touch you--feel you... I need it, please..."

"Not yet darling," you kissed his tears away, giggling as more came to replace what was lost. You felt him swell inside you and you moaned. "Fuck, Link..."

You leaned back, resting on his thighs for support, and gyrated your hips in a circular motion. Link was practically screaming, begging, imploring you to grab you, hold you, anything just please--

"Nuh uh uh," your sing-song voice dripped with a lusty venom. "The moment you lay your hands on me, I stop. Got it?"

"No!" Blue eyes shot up to meet yours, mortified. "Don't stop! Whatever you do, just don't... Ah... Don't stop..."

You fucked and fucked this man until your thighs clung to his with sweat. Link pressed his face into his bicep and his hands balled into pale fists, shaking as he fought the urge to overpower your teasing self and ram his throbbing cock against your sweetest spots.

"You look so pretty, Link... Gods, absolutely gorgeous." You gingerly pulled his face to look at you. "Don't hide from me, I want to see you..."

You sunk your chest into his as your hips lifted and snapped down with a lewd squelch. He let out a noise between a gasp and a yelp and he bucked his hips up to meet your cunt. You hovered in the air, low enough for Link to slip in and out of you but high enough where he couldn't immerse himself wholly. A race of obscenities slurred out of his mouth.

"P-Please (F/N)... Can you come down a little lower for me? I need you... Need you wrapped around me..."

"Mm... I'll think about it." You laughed darkly as Link strained harder to fill you up with his cock. Eventually, his breathing became haggard and you felt his heart thunder in his chest. He threw his head back and chanted your name like something holy. Your lips left bluish welts all over his alabaster skin and you pulled away, admiring your masterpiece.

"So pretty... All right, I'll give you what you want..." You began lowering your hips--barely at first--while Link sang your praises, feeling the lower half of his dick be squeezed by your tight, wet walls.

"You fill me up so well, baby..." You rolled your hips faster, faster, faster. "Fuck, you're so big...!"

Link's abs suddenly crunched up and you yelped, slipping into his lap. Rough hands pulled you off him and spun your body round, faceplanting you into the soft sheets. He scuttled you closer and poised your ass in the air, taking a moment or two to appreciate your hole pulsating with want. His torso dipped into the arch of your back, sending hot breaths up your spine and into your ear.

"It's been fun, but..." He licked the sensitive spot under your ear, melting into your moans. "I'm gonna make you mine now, okay?"

Two fingers curled into your needy hole and thrusted at mind-numbing speeds. You screamed into the fabric bunched at the foot of your bed, fists balling uselessly in response to his merciless onslaught. As if your mind wasn't wrecked with enough pleasure, another hand snaked around your waist and dipped down your pelvis, kneading your swollen clit. The simple motion almost got you coming undone by his fingers.

"I'm gonna make you regret teasing me for so long." He hissed, his sexual frustrations turning into something sadistic.

As quickly as they entered you, his fingers pulled out and rubbed your slick all over his throbbing cock. He pained to feel your tightness vice around him, but Link was a patient man.

"You're such a tease, you know that? Gods, look at you... You're making a mess of our sheets." He hummed, rubbing his twitching head along your folds. "Whatever will you do to make up for this?"

"A-Anything!" The word flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself. "Just please--please fuck me already!"

He chuckled evilly, prodding your entrance deeper. A whine wrenched from your throat and you tried pushing your cunt against him, but you were kept firmly in place with his hands.

"Begging's a good look on you, darling," He sang sweetly. "(F/N), you're gorgeous... Spread out so beautifully for me..."

Whispers laced with obscene praises overtook your senses as you felt your husband slowly fill you up, making sure you felt every sweet inch seep into your core. No words could explain the unholy heat that spread from your core to your fingers, tingling them with mind-rocking sensations. You felt his pelvis against your ass and you both let out a pent-up sigh.

Not a moment later, his hips snapped to life and you were completely at the mercy of the Hero's thrusts. Your breasts spilled into his hands, a wave of soft flesh lapping the other side of his palm with every forceful thrust. The other hand reached for your abused folds and rubbed your clit, each swirl more feral than the last.

"So good... So good for me... Your body was made for me..."

You were sobbing at this point. Shaking. Screaming. All for your beloved Link. He fucked every sense of coherency from your mind, filling your brain and cunt with nothing but him. He straightened his back and burrowed his fingers into your hips, admiring the little crescents his nails left behind. The air behind you stirred and the burn of a slap seared into your bouncing cheeks, lodging a pained whine in your throat. He rubbed the swollen handmark, loving the red that grew to settle on your skin and traced your relatively unmarked back that was practically begging to be marked by him.

He started with gentle kisses and tonguing here and there, gauging your expression (or moans) for discomfort. A high-pitched mewl acted as permission for him to continue. He followed the natural curve of your spine, teething the soft flesh and suckling so contently. He initially took his sweet time marking you, but the thought of his bruises painting your skin spurred him faster, rougher.

He bit the back of your shoulder and dragged teeth and tongue to your neck, his home. You felt him breath deeply, no doubt getting drunk off your scent and the smell of sex that clung to the air. You suddenly felt a hand burrow into your disheveled, sweaty hair and he pulled you up, pressing your body flush against his. The modified position allowed him to reach even deeper and at speeds he hadn't gone before.

Digits wrapped about your chin and neck, prying them sideways to make way for even more hickeys. Each mark still wrought your skin with a heat you could never get used to, no matter how many times he claimed you. Moist lips covered the shell of your ear as a husky whisper wormed through your thoughts.

"My cute lil' wife... You're taking me so well. Making me feel so good... Do you feel good too? Are you drunk off my cock yet?"

Some messy confirmation stammered out of you as lidded (E/C) met hooded cerulean. The imperceptible knot in your gut began tangling itself into tight ribbons. You were getting close.

He pulled you into a messy kiss raptured with delight, losing any form of standard structure as tongues met and coiled around the other in an intoxicating dance. You were no longer yourself, turned into a mere plaything by your loving, adoring husband. He chuckled at the dazed look in your eyes, nuzzling into your cheek.

"I love you so, so much..." His hand on your clit moved faster and faster. "Come for me, okay? Can you do that for me, my queen?"

The all-too-familiar tension grew and grew in your lower abdomen; your head lolled downward, bopping your nose clumsily against Link's. Your hand wandered to the top of his sopping-wet fingers while the other snaked around his neck. He balanced your forehead against his and locked adoring eyes with you.

"Don't look away... Look at me. I want to see your slutty face as you come..."

His velvety purr was the last push you needed to fall the over edge and into the sweet, white abyss. A scream you didn't recognize sang into his ears as you poured your juices all over his hand, your cunt shaking from the magnitude of release. The delightful twitches shot him over the edge and his eyes fluttered shut, pure unfiltered bliss kissing his features as he brimmed you with his seed.

All the strength in the Hero's legs sapped, you both fell backwards into the plush sheets, sweat and slick binding your limbs into a messy pile. Spent exhales intermitted with each other and neither of you moved, locked in warm, satisfied catatonia.

"I've never..." He breathed out with much effort, "Came so hard... In my life..."

"I think I... saw the gods." Exhausted laughs spilled from the both of you and you felt his loving gaze. You looked over at him as he tucked your sweaty locks behind your ear.

"Makes sense. You're absolutely divine, after all."

A weak slap to his bicep and a chortle.

"Must you tease me?"

"It's not teasing if it's the truth." He rubbed into your neck and sighed, feeling the post-orgasm sleepiness weigh his eyelids; your consciousness was already waist-deep into slumber. In the moments leading up to what would undoubtedly be the best sleep of your lives, he drew you closer and treated your ear with a low, tired whisper.

"I love you, (F/N)... Thank you for being mine."

[amarmeme]

I finally finished the game last night and have a lot of thoughts/feelings left lingering about Lucanis/Rook. I know people have gone on and around on this already, but I am compelled by this fictional mess.

I don't even think we need more from Lucanis, but more from Rook, which is my takeaway from the game as a whole regardless of romance, but I would guess is most highlighted by his romance path in particular.

Spoilers below the cut.

Pretty much anything I have written or will write is going to include some degree of angst. It's my favorite brand of tension.

Case in point: my favorite Austen novel is Persuasion. If that shows anything, it's that I live for inner turmoil, quiet suffering, yearning, unspoken words, and two idiots in love.

I want to get my heart shredded until the love makes it whole. The Lucanis romance has the potential for this in spades, but the execution is just lacking and that's because we never go beyond surface with Rook's thoughts. It feels like this romance is supposed to carry on the backs of the players' imagination, which feels a bit cheap.

I've seen criticism of not enough from Lucanis and also defenses that he's been through A Lot so we shouldn't expect more. I'm actually past that. Yes, more scenes with Lucanis would have been great, but I actually want more scenes from Rook's perspective, even if alone, to fill in the strange gaps.

Before you lock in mechanically, imagine if you will, Rook having a reflective conversation with Varric, or in Varric's mirror. Rook asks if they are imagining a connection, or seeing into things.

What if Rook has a chance to speak with Neve, given she and Lucanis have a clear connection whether they get together or not? Or Harding, one of the other people who appear in Lucanis' mind prison?

I could see this continuing after the romance "locks in" -- companions comment on Lucanis looking happy, them being together, but what about Rook? If they're not ready to comment directly to Lucanis on what this really means to him (since they never kiss, touch, exchange soulful looks, etc.), Rook should be able to ask the companions what they have noticed/what they should do to advance things.

This comes down to my struggle with this game versus past Dragon Age games. It all boils down to the lack of interaction between Rook and others. If Rook could ask their colleagues questions rather than just listening to ambient conversations or helping further their personal quests, it would do so much to make this game as amazing as the past installments.

Rook is so lonely, surrounded by all these people. You have to choose to imagine they are connected and are having these interpersonal conversations about themselves, because they never happen on screen. At least I didn't get any of that in my Shadow Dragon Rook playthrough.

I am completely fine with what feels like one-sided pining, and even angst about what Lucanis actually wants out of Rook, but the game needs some mechanics to put into place to make it feel like Rook isn't just quietly okay with an empty relationship, or expect us to imagine things are happening when the game presents them as very much not.

So much of what is there is perfectly rife for fanfiction, but I expect the logical progression to be clear in the game where it really is just not. I have no idea how Lucanis/Rook get from point A to B to C. It feels like it is missing content, and it could even just be Rook-specific content to smooth it over. As it is now, it feels like an unconvincing story.

Maybe one day I'll play it again as a crow to see if that adds any crumbs, but for now I'm just feeling kinda conflicted for my poor Rook. I love the potential, but am not super pleased with the execution.

[stupidlittlespirit]

something about Ford being book smart, but lacking common sense is so... charming (other than the negative side effects of that, ie: giving us space rabies!)

Having to explain a concept that seems like common sense to most, especially in a social context??? He's so awkward it hurts. And I love it

However, an unfair advantage he has is pretty privilege, as well as such an outstanding vocabulary that he's just unintentionally smooth no matter what he says. (IMO THAT PART IS CANON. HE JUST WAS SAYING STUFF IN THE SHOW THAT WAS SO HOT, HIS CONFIDENCE IS DISGUSTINGLY ATTRACTIVE)

Him missing social cues, especially flirting would be so frustrating, but it also would be so much fun to see how far you could push it until he finally caught on. AAAUUGH

Right?? I think it's fun to balance him with that aspect. The canon gives us a glimpse at that but it often frames it as being negatively neglectful, and while I do think he is neglectful at times, there's something really nice about taking the negative edge off of that and making it a bit more of a quirk in some ways.

It's also a nice way to bring him back down to Earth gently, too. He truly believes he's the smartest in the room and in most ways he is so it's understandable, but getting to softly backhand that assertion to him over something he isn't so good on, like emotional intelligence, makes for a good juxtaposition. It's a nice way of reminding him that there's always more to learn, no matter how high your IQ is.

Describing him as having pretty privilege is SO funny ilsjdjkdkdfdsf and true!!!!!!!!!! He is pretty! When I write him, I do really enjoy letting him shine within his area of expertise and letting that confidence come naturally to him, but then snatching it away when he has to step outside of his comfort zone. He comes across as smooth when he's on one about his passions but he comes off the tracks almost in a panicked way when it shifts into the social-emotional aspect of interactions. To me, that's very charming. I really like that he's capable of so much but he falters when he's trying to express himself beyond those limits.

My partner is smart with theory but is also autistic so struggles to handle social stuff, whereas I'm the exact reverse. Stepping in to take over the social reins is really fun for me and I think I end up writing that into Ford and Reader's relationship. Reader is much more social and outgoing than he is, and Ford admires that. Thinking on your feet and knowing the 'right' thing to say is difficult and it's a skill by itself.

For Ford, or at least the way I write him, I think you would have to say it directly to him in order to make him understand. He won't pick up hints particularly well unless you're especially obvious with them, for a number of reasons. He thinks you're listening to him yap on about physics because you like physics and you think he's a good teacher, not because you enjoy his passion or find it attractive. You have to outright say 'god I want you so bad' for him to clock that that's actually why you're listening to him speak. That's not to say he won't pick up on hints ever, but just that it isn't something he consciously looks for so doesn't expect to need to pick it up, if that makes sense.

And I like that. I'm a very direct person naturally and I don't enjoy having to go all around the houses to get someone's attention. I personally prefer being straightforward (tactfully) and have found things work out better that way. So idk, for me I don't want my actions to be read into, I'll tell you if I feel a certain way and go from there. And with Ford, he's kind of ideal in that sense. He seems like the kind of guy who respects directness even if he doesn't like the answer. He doesn't want to be strung along and lied to for the sake of social expectations. That just makes things harder for everyone.

There has definitely been some friction in the MtB universe over that, though.....

[rosiebun28]

COSMIC HRT Month 1 (The Dream and First Encounter)

Hi, I'm Rosie and this is part of a story I've been wanting to share for a long time. Cosmic HRT started as a comic but I have ADHD really bad and I have struggled with consistently working on art. But as I continue in the community I want to try other mediums like writing to get my story out there. Hopefully one day I can work on turning it into a comic but I just want to at least get something out for my own sanity. This story was inspired by Dragon HRT by @ayviedoesthings and by Eldritch HRT by @dawning-mars The format was Inspired by Arynia's Hellhound HRT story over at @ariathelamia so Definitely go check all of them out if you haven't already! Also Special thank you to @dawning-mars for the Cameo!

Hello, my name is Rose but I like to go by Rosie. My Therapist suggested I should try Chronicling my journey as a way of reflecting on the crazy events that have been happening to me. I've always had problems interacting with other people so I figured I should share these journals online as a way of initiating interaction. (Sorry if that’s weird, I’m still working on my communication skills) I’m really bad at self expression so forgive me if I say something weird or mis-remember something.

Well the whole thing started a while back, I'm a 30 year old transgender woman and things had been getting worse where I lived for people like me. I heard about a new type of HRT that can actually turn people into animals! After doing A LOT of research into it and a lot of self reflection, I Felt this was something I needed but nothing I looked at felt right, felt like me. There were short periods of fancy where I got excited at the thought of being a bunny or a mouse or even a hybrid species, but the excitement always faded after a time. Nothing felt like the real me, I didn’t even know what the "Real Me" was supposed to feel like, just the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I was stuck at an impasse, walking past and seeing others transitioning and becoming closer to their true selves every day. I liked to try and keep up to date on things so I started following some Therians online but while I was happy for them, I still felt just the tiniest bit of envy and wished I could figure out who I am.

However, that changed one day when I had a weird dream. It's a bit difficult to describe but there was a tall Being in a bright yellow robe with an expressionless mask and horns, we stood on an expansive black plane, the sky behind a stark white with what appeared to be black stars in the background. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs, I couldn’t move and could barely feel myself, I watched as the figure slowly moved towards me in a way I can only describe as smooth, not quite gliding, not quite shambling. Once it reached me it  whispered something I couldn't quite make out and I suddenly woke up with a chill. The next day I had an unexplainable urge to go for a walk through a part of town I'd never been through but it was like something was pulling me there, like I was being drawn in. 

I made my way down to what was locally being called the "Therian District" though some would call it "The Zoo" though I never liked that name personally. As I was walking past a doctor's office, I suddenly bumped into someone and fell to the ground. I felt a cold chill suddenly rush into me and down my throat but it was gone so fast I wasn't even sure if it even actually happened. As I looked up there was a tall, vague figure covered in shadow. When suddenly my vision doubled, one side blue and the other yellow, before recombining. The shadowy figure was gone, in its place before me stood the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. She was extremely tall and had skin that was a lustrous purple, she wore a simple black dress with a black bow and a large black hat. Her face stared at me for a few seconds with five deep, caring eyes that seemed to be full of anxiety, not sure how I could tell that to be honest. She quickly apologized for bumping into me and ran off. I was stuck there for a few seconds going over the image in my mind before someone came over and helped me up. They asked me if I’d been hurt by "That Monster" and I gave them a sharp glare that made them back off and walk away muttering "freak" under their breath. I don’t know why but I'd felt an anger wash over me from hearing them insult this person I’d never even met. It was so out of character for me that I didn’t know how to respond so I called them an asshole and walked away.

That night I had another dream about the Being in Yellow but this time they spoke only four words to me: "Open Your Eye Youngling" After which I heard a cracking sound followed by my vision splitting again into blue and yellow, but this time they didn't recombine, instead they split and my perspective shifted to viewing 3 different angles at once. One blue, one yellow, and one gray in between them looking at glowing blobs of energy, a blue one on the right and a yellow on on the left. They were connected to me by thin white fluctuating beams of light. They seemed to be where the other perspectives are coming from. 

I started to hear and feel one of myselves saying some but it was muffled and all I could make out was a vague feeling. Then the blue and yellow selves seemed to start having a conversation that I could not seem to process. It was like I was hearing words and vague wisps of intent but had no idea what was being said. After a while I woke up again, but something was different. I felt like I could see more, but I wasn't sure what it was I could see that I couldn't before. It felt like a heavy fog had lifted from my mind. Whatever it was, started to make me feel a lot more overstimulated than before. The trade-off being I suddenly didn't feel as lonely anymore for some reason.

I went to take my morning meds and noticed that something was different, my normal estrogen pills seemed to have changed from the little white circles I was used to. They were now a bit bigger and football shaped like my Progesterone but I couldn’t find any seams on them and they appeared to be filled with some kind of milky white pearlescent liquid. I tried to break one open but I couldn’t seem to penetrate the outer shell so I examined the bottle. There were a few things different about the label now too, The patient name was a strange Sigil I’d never seen before. The medication name now said "Dreamadonteride" and the Prescriber information was some kind of symbol I’d never seen before that looked like a dot surrounded by a circle with three squiggly lines radiating out from the center. I looked at the pill again and felt a mix of conflicted feelings and voices inside, but one feeling rang out louder than the others. A voice telling me that this mysterious new pill would help me finally find my true self, would help me finally be happy. So I ignored the other voices in my head telling me to stop as I popped the pill into my mouth and took a drink of water. The voices finally calmed and went quiet. I still don’t know if this was the right choice, but I made it and I was going to stick with it.

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

(*^*) ★彡 Absol I love your Trey works so much I never see ANYONE write for him! If requests are open can you maybe do some more? Fem!reader (n.n;) if that’s okay? Dubious cause reader is just a big dummy and needs Trey to take care of her. (>w<) if that’s okay!

Sugar Rush

A/N: That makes me happy that Trey is getting popular. I have seen a few people write for him, I am happy to recommend some writers for you any time.

tags: Trey Clover x fem!reader, dubcon, blowjobs wc: 1.3k+

“I worry about you a lot.” Trey huffed, tugging down the back of your skirt. You didn’t realize anything was exposed. “Aww thank you! You’re such a sweetheart Trey!” You beamed up at the taller man with your heart swelling in your chest. You were known for your lack of special awareness. Ace and Deuce playfully accused you for faking it, wanting to look cute for Trey so he would fuss over you. But it was the truth. You just weren’t able to perceive most things around you. 

You bumped into people at least twice a day, you’ve almost sprained your ankle three times this semester, and the amount of times you’ve hiked your skirt up too high or forgot to button your shirt properly is unrecordable. But Trey always came to rescue you.

He would pull you into a corner and fix your tie, buttoning your shirt and vest, smoothing wrinkles in your blazer and tugging your skirt down to meet dress code. He would catch you before you fell and got hurt with the help of his strong arms hugging you tight against him. And usually he would come and defend you from whoever you bumped into…  Or maybe he was worried about the attention you would get. Being the only girl at an all boys boarding school wasn’t really ideal. Even if the societal norms were different from your world, you sometimes would hear unsavory conversations passing the mouths of students you had never interacted with in the past. Some of the conversations had you as the topic. 

The shape and curve of your body. How they wanted to tug your hair back as they forced you on your hands and knees. How they wanted to practically ruin your life just because you said hi to them one day in the halls before classes. 

You liked that Trey fussed and worried about you, because you knew that he wouldn’t speak of you like those gross perverts. Trey was nice. Trey was like an older brother figure for you. A hot older brother that you had no relation to. “See, you’re daydreaming again.” He sighed and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you close to his body. A group of boys raced in the opposite direction, nearly knocking you to the floor if not for Trey’s strong hold. His body was firm, his arms strong from his experience baking and kneading dough. “But I can do that cause you always help me out!” You smiled again and hugged onto his arm, pressing it against the valley of your breasts with your cheek pressed against his thick limb. “I help you because you can barely help yourself.” Exasperation this time. Your lips curled into a pout as you allowed Trey to lead you to class. “And I don’t do this because I actually want to. You just look helpless. You need to take responsibility for once.” He seemed irritated as you relaxed against him, eyes glancing in the direction of a small group of male students whispering and eyeing you up and down. 

They were just jealous that you preferred Trey over anyone else. “Actually…” He slowed to a stop and glanced down at you still clinging to his arm. There was a looming feeling of danger now. You loosened your grip on Trey’s arm, wondering if maybe you took something too far. “Come with me for a bit.” He wasn’t asking you; he was telling you. With your fingers still curled around his sleeve you walked with Trey in the opposite direction of your shared classroom. He walked you towards the empty alchemy lab and you noticed the lack of students in the wing of the school. “Where are we going?” You asked with a nervous smile as he nudged you into the empty lab. 

“Alchemy lab. Just for a little bit.” Trey pulled the door shut with a soft click. You looked around with your heart pounding against your ribs. Trey didn’t look angry, it was something else. “You really do need to take responsibility for yourself.” He hummed, watching you back into an empty lab table. “What are you going to do if I’m not around? What if someone takes advantage of you?” Trey asked with a soft chuckle. You laced your fingers behind your back with a silent shrug of your shoulders. You weren’t sure how to answer his question. You always sought out Trey, no matter what. The idea of something going wrong wasn’t something you considered in the past.

“You don’t know?” He whispered, closing in on you with his eyes starting to darken. His honeyed gaze seared into your flesh as he outstretched a hand and pointed to the tiled floor. “Kneel.” Trey’s voice was soft, sweet like caramel drizzled over the delicate curls of your brain. A heat began to pool between your thighs and you sank to your knees with a nervous expression. His hand held the back of your head and pulled you close so your lips brushed the crotch of his trousers. Your nose rubbed against the cool metal of his belt buckle as he curled his opposite hand into a tight fist. “You understand what I’m asking for?” Trey spoke as your hands shakily pressed against his thighs. “Um… You want me to do it?” You didn’t think Trey saw you like this. You didn’t mind since it was Trey, but it felt wrong at the same time. Trey is like a hottie older brother who swats you on the back and tells you good job. Not someone who convinces you to thank him for his niceness with a sloppy blowjob. 

Trey pulled your head flush against him. “It’s part of taking responsibility.” Your lips slightly parted as he began to hurriedly loosen his belt. There was the jingle of metal as he pulled it free, soon came his button and zipper as you watched with wide eyes. A soft whine passed your lips as his cock was now freed. His hand remained on the back of your head as he took his cock and tapped it against the soft flesh of your cheek. You weren’t exactly skilled in this field. But you couldn’t refuse the situation either. 

You needed to speak up, but before you had the chance, Trey pressed the crown of his cock against your lips. Your eyes darted up at him then back to the flushed tip. Wet and sticky with seminal fluid. You didn’t really want to. But you would since it was Trey. Your lips opened, and quickly closed around the tip. Your thighs pressing tightly together as you let Trey guide your head for you. Forcing you back and forth to suck and swallow the salty taste of his velvety skin. “You can suck harder.” His voice was breathless with light snaps of his hips against your face. Your hands gripped the fabric of his black trousers. Drool began to collect in your mouth, sliding down your chin as you looked up at Trey with watery eyes. It was getting hard to breathe now. Having him hump into your face, forcing your head still as you gagged and drooled over his thick cock. Having your nose buried at his base, being tickled by the wiry dark green hairs. Your face burned with shame from how much you were enjoying it. A familiar sticky film clung to the cottony insert. You allowed your jaw to fall slack as you moaned around his cock. You sucked and slurped, squeezing your eyes shut as tears welled in your eyes as Trey moaned above you with a long string of curses passing his lips. The mushroomy tip smacked into the back of your throat roughly. The feeling of him throbbing against your tongue and the pistoning against your face. His hands gripped at the back of your head and yanked you against his lap. Holding you firmly in place as he rutted against your face with a few final throbs. A strangled ‘fuuuck’ left his lips as the warm flood of sperm filled your mouth. Trey’s hands shook as you inhaled and exhaled through your nose. You blinked away tears as Trey continued to hold your head in place. Forcing you to swallow with a struggled gulp around his slowly softening cock.