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pbaz7 · 1 month ago

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ONE SHOT: SENIOR NIGNT

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 9.6k

A/N: This is a prompt I got from someone about the aftermath of senior night! You might be on a little emotional roller coaster and i’m sorry in advance for that lol. Let me know what you think if you can :)

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After senior day Ted’s was packed, the air humid as laughter and music filled the space. Paige was on drink—who even knew what number at this point—but she was definitely feeling it. She claimed she needed to go big before playoffs started. Her cheeks were flushed, her grin was lazy, and everything around her was just a little bit funnier than it probably should’ve been.

Ice was practically draped over Paige, her head resting against Paige’s shoulder as she whined dramatically. “No bro— I just can’t believe you’re leaving me,” she slurred, clutching at Paige’s arm like the blonde was about to be ripped away forever. “What am I supposed to do without you? Who’s gonna hype me up? Who’s gonna throw me those stupid ass behind-the-back passes at practice and get mad if I don’t catch em?”

Paige snorted, wrapping an arm around Ice. “Alright bro, you over here acting like I’m dying. You’ll be ight.”

Ice groaned, tightening her grip. “Nooo, you don’t get it, Paige. You’re my favorite.”

“Girl boo,” a new voice cut in, and suddenly KK was there, shoving at Ice’s shoulder. “Move over, it’s my turn for P Boogers attention.”

Ice clutched onto Paige tighter. “Oh my god move KK. She’s mine.”

KK scoffed. “I’ve been crying all night about her leaving. Where were you?”

“Bro, literally right here,” Ice yelled. “Crying all over her.”

KK rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I need more time.”

“Oh, that’s funny, because I’ve known her longer,” Ice argued, crossing her arms like she knew she won.

KK gasped. “Oh, you’re pulling the super senior card now? That’s low.”

“You’re low…to the ground.”

Paige just leaned back, watching the two of them bicker over her with an amused smile. “Y’all know I’m still here, right?”

Neither of them acknowledged her, too caught up in their argument. Ice was still latched onto Paige, while KK was trying to push her off, the two of them acting like kids fighting over a toy.

Aubrey walked by, shaking her head. “They do realize there’s two of them and only one of you, right?”

Paige shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Not my problem. At least they aren’t yelling.”

For what felt like ten minutes, KK and Ice kept tugging Paige in different directions, each trying to claim her as theirs for the night. Paige was thoroughly entertained in her drunken state so she let them go at it for a while. But eventually she got a little nauseous so she groaned, yanking her arms free. “Alright, alright—I’m not a toy.”

KK huffed mumbling, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Ice crossed her arms. “Yeah, you was sitting there smiling and laughing for like 10 minutes.”

Paige gave them both a pointed look. “Okay, well, maybe y’all need to lock in.”

Immediately, they both pouted at her, big, glossy eyes making them look like sad puppies.

Paige sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes before pulling them both into a hug. “Y’all are a mess,” she mumbled, but there was fondness in her voice for her younger teammates.

They melted into the hug, grabbing onto tightly.

Then, just as Paige started to relax, Ice turned her head slightly toward KK and mumbled, “I’m her and Azzi’s favorite kid.”

KK’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Paige groaned. “Oh my god.”

Ice smiled hugely, clearly enjoying herself.

KK scowled. “Girl boo you are definitely not her favorite.”

“I definitely am, Azzi told me.”

And just like that, they were arguing again.

Paige rolled her eyes before slipping out of their grasp, shaking her head as she grabbed her drink and wandered off. “Y’all have fun with that.”

As she moved through the bar, the warm, hazy buzz in her chest was in full effect. She took another long sip of her drink, scanning the room for a familiar face—the familiar face. Eyebrows furrowing slightly when she didn’t immediately see her.

She knew Azzi had been there earlier because they had come together and had been attracted to one another’s side for the most part. But she hasn’t seen her in about an hour an now, no matter where she looked, she couldn’t seem to find her.

For anyone else, Paige would blame it on her drunken haze, the dim lighting, or the fact that it was harder to isolate faces in the crowded bar. But Azzi wasn’t just anyone else. Paige could usually spot her instantly, hear her voice or her laugh no matter where she was or how loud a room was . And right now? She wasn’t anywhere.

Feeling too tipsy to be subtle, Paige turned toward the table where most of her teammates were sitting. Without hesitation, she raised her voice over the music.

“Yo, anybody know where my girl went?”

A few heads turned, some of her teammates exchanging shrugs and mumbling, “I don’t know.”

Nika spoke up, casually tipping her drink toward the door. “Last I heard, she said she needed some air.”

Paige nodded at that. Without another word, she tilted her head back, downing the rest of her drink in one go before setting the empty glass down on the nearest table.

She stepped outside into the chilly air, the sounds of Ted’s fading as the door shut behind her. Her eyes scanned the area, but Azzi wasn’t in her usual spot, leaning against the wall like she sometimes did when she needed a moment away from the chaos inside.

Frustration bubbled under the buzz of alcohol because all she wanted was a hug from her girl. Paige pulled out her phone, dialing Azzi’s number. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail.

“What the hell…” Paige mumbled to herself, frowning at the screen. She swiped over to Find My and pulled up Azzi’s location. Azzi was back on campus, in her room.

Paige’s frown deepened, and she tried calling her again, but once again, there was no answer. Paige grumbled under her breath, feeling a wave of impatience.

She pulled up her messages and scrolled down until she found the last teammate she sent a message to. She saw Aubrey’s name first and sent over a quick Imma dip Azzi already left.

After Paige sent the message to Aubrey, she started a jog back to campus. Her drunkenness made it a lot more fun than walking—her steps a little wobbly, but the night air and the thought of reaching Azzi made it more exciting.

When she finally got to Azzi’s suite, Paige paused in front of the door, groaning slightly when she was able to just walk in.

“Azzi… bro, you need to lock your damn door,” Paige muttered to herself.

She shook her head, slipped off her shoes, and stepped inside quietly, trying not to make too much noise just in case Azzi was asleep. Her eyes searched the living room, but Azzi wasn’t in sight. Paige moved through the dark suite with ease, knowing the layout so well it was almost second nature.

As she got closer to Azzi’s room, the door was slightly opened but when she peeked inside, Azzi wasn’t there either.

A soft sound from the bathroom caught her attention. The sound of the shower running. Paige’s lips curled into a small grin as she drunkenly padded softly toward the bathroom.

She knocked lightly on the door, her voice low. “You in there, mama?”

The response came, but it was muffled, almost too quiet to yeah. “Yeah.”

Paige’s eyebrows immediately furrowed as she heard a sniffle follow Azzi’s response. Her grin faded, replaced by concern. Opening the door gently, she stepped inside and froze for a moment when she saw Azzi, the drunken haze disappearing immediately.

Azzi was sitting on the shower floor with her knees pulled to her chest, her head resting in between them. The water was running, but Paige could tell it was colder than it should’ve been when she didn’t see any fog on the mirror. Azzi’s face wasn’t visible, but Paige could see the tension in her posture and the way her shoulders trembled, even under the cascading water.

Not caring about the expensive jeans or anything else she was wearing, Paige stepped into the shower, ignoring the immediate chill of the water against her back. She positioned herself between Azzi and the cold stream, blocking it from hitting her, and knelt down in front of her.

She leaned in close, her voice gentle but filled with concern. “What’s going on, baby?” She waited for a second, hoping for any response, but when Azzi didn’t look up, Paige’s hand instinctively moved to gently run through Azzi’s wet hair, trying to soothe her.

"Talk to me, baby," Paige whispered, her voice pleading now. "What do you need?" Paige hated feeling this helpless. It was one of the worst feelings in the world—when something was wrong with Azzi, and she couldn’t immediately fix it, couldn’t make it better. It always gnawed at her.

But Azzi didn’t respond. Instead, Paige felt Azzi's shoulders shake slightly, and then the soft, heartbreaking sound of Azzi crying. Paige's heart broke all over again, her own breath hitching in her chest.

"No no, I'm sorry beautiful," Paige muttered, even though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was apologizing for—she just knew she made her cry more. She hated seeing Azzi like this, feeling like she’d failed her somehow.

Standing up, Paige reached for the towel that sat next to the shower. She turned to shut off the water, the room falling silent except for the sound of Azzi’s sniffles.

When Paige turned back around she crouched down in front of Azzi again, the towel still in her arms. She leaned in, resting her forehead against the top of Azzi’s head for a brief moment, as if she was trying to absorb some of the pain Azzi was feeling.

“Lemme get you up, beautiful,” Paige whispered.

Azzi finally looked up, and Paige’s heart sank when she saw her—her puffy eyes, mascara smeared a little on her cheeks, looking exhausted and vulnerable. Paige’s chest tightened as she fought the urge to pull her close, to do anything she could to make it better.

Gently, Paige leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Azzi’s forehead, the gesture an attempt to remind Azzi that she wasn’t alone.

“Can you stand up for me baby?” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded, her movements slow. Paige gently helped her to her feet, her hands steady as she wrapped the towel around Azzi’s body, providing her the warmth she needed.

Once Azzi was standing, Paige stepped out of the shower first, her clothes and hair wet but ignored as she focused solely on helping Azzi. She reached out a hand, guiding Azzi carefully as she stepped out of the shower, making sure she was steady on her feet.

“Alright, lemme get you somewhere warm,” Paige whispered, offering Azzi a soft smile as she pulled her into her side, ignoring the discomfort of her wet clothes.

Once they got to Azzi’s room, Paige gently led her to the bed, guiding her with a steady hand as Azzi’s bare feet shuffled across the floor. She sat Azzi down, making sure she was comfortable before turning to the heater. Paige adjusted the settings and pulled it closer to Azzi’s bed, the warm air filling the room almost instantly.

“Stay right there,” Paige whispered as she turned to walk back to the bathroom.

A few moments later, Paige returned with a warm face towel in her hands. She walked over to the bed and knelt in front of Azzi, carefully wiping her face. The towel was gentle against Azzi’s skin as Paige worked to remove the mascara that had smeared from her tears. She focused on her movements, making sure to be gentle, to care for Azzi the way she always wanted to—quietly, without words, just through actions.

When she was done, Paige leaned back slightly, looking at Azzi with a soft smile. “Perfect,” she whispered, before leaning down to press a warm, wet kiss to Azzi’s forehead.

Azzi’s lips twitched up just a little, her eyes still tired, but there was a flicker of something in them—a glimpse of appreciation. Her voice was soft, muffled by her exhaustion as she mumbled, “You’re getting water everywhere big head.”

Paige looked down at her wet clothes and grinned sheepishly. “Oops,” she said, her voice light, trying to ease the mood.

Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at Paige’s grin, the sound of it just a little more like herself again. Paige’s heart warmed at the sound of her soft laugh, even if it was just a small one—it meant they were making progress.

After Paige took the towel back to the bathroom, she returned to the room, ready to take care of her in any way she could. She started to reach for the shea butter, her hands hovering over the container, when Azzi’s soft voice interrupted her.

“You need to take off your wet clothes first,” Azzi whispered, her eyes barely lifting to meet Paige’s.

Paige huffed, already irritated at the thought of undressing herself when she just wanted to focus on Azzi.

Still, Paige listened. She took a deep breath and stepped back, pulling her wet shirt over her head in one fluid motion. She was about to toss it in the corner but caught Azzi’s gaze. Azzi gave her a pointed look, as if silently saying really? Paige sighed, rolling her eyes, and laid the shirt across the chair instead, allowing it to dry properly.

Next, she pulled off her wet jeans, mirroring the same motion. She sighed again, throwing them carefully on the chair, before removing her socks, sports bra and boxers.

Now fully in just her damp skin, Paige reached into Azzi’s drawer and pulled out a shirt and a pair of her boxers, slipping them on without a second thought.

Once dressed, she turned back toward Azzi.

Paige moved towards her, cupping her face gently with both hands, her warm fingers soft against her skin. “You gonna let me take care of my wife now?” she whispered, a smile on her lips.

Azzi bit her lip slightly, her eyes flicking to Paige’s before she nodded softly.

Paige’s smile grew as she reached for the shea butter. She knelt in front of Azzi, her hands warm as she started with her feet. Gently, she massaged the cream into Azzi’s skin, taking extra time with every touch. The warmth of her hands and the smell of the shea butter filled Azzi’s senses, mixing with the quiet rhythm of the suite.

She kissed Azzi’s feet softly once she was done, a little smile tugging at her lips when Azzi’s eyes fluttered shut, the small gesture making Azzi’s heart flutter too. Paige continued up to her legs, making sure to soothe every inch of skin as she worked. She kissed Azzi’s skin here and there, lingering just long enough to make Azzi’s smile grow.

When Paige moved to the rest of Azzi’s body, she took her time, kneading the shea butter into Azzi’s shoulders, arms, and stomach, occasionally pausing to kiss her skin. Each kiss was a soft, intimate reminder of the care she wanted to give, of the love that always felt so quiet but so deep between them.

Paige finished by gently massaging Azzi’s neck for a while, working out some of the tension in her shoulders. Each stroke of her hands seemed to ease the tightness, and Azzi’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Paige’s touch was soothing, her hands firm yet gentle as she worked the knots out of Azzi’s muscles, knowing how much it meant for her to relax after games.

Once she was satisfied with Azzi’s shoulders and neck, Paige stood up and walked to Azzi’s dresser. She pulled out a set of fresh underwear, pajama shorts, and a loose t-shirt—her usual care package when Azzi needed comfort before bed. She walked back to the bed and gently helped Azzi slip them on.

Azzi finally thought Paige would crawl into bed with her, but instead, Paige walked toward the dresser again, reaching for Azzi's paddle brush making her groan.

Paige laughed at her, but her voice was still gentle, “Your hair’s gonna get tangled if I don’t comb it out.”

Azzi muttered a quiet, “Fine,” before she shifted, making room for Paige on the bed. Paige climbed in next to her, settling so that Azzi could lay slightly on top of her. It was a comfortable position, with Azzi resting her head against Paige’s chest, her body half on top of her, allowing Paige to carefully work the brush through her hair.

Paige worked the brush through Azzi’s damp strands, taking her time to detangle the hair gently. Despite the earlier protest she knew Azzi liked it when she took her time with this–it was something Paige had done since they were young. Every so often she would stop combing and press a soft kiss to the top of her head before going back to working the brush through Azzi’s curls.

The room was filled with the soft sound of their steady breathing and the gentle swish of the brush through Azzi’s hair. It was a peaceful moment—one that made Paige feel more grounded, more connected to the woman she loved. She continued brushing, all the while savoring the stillness, the intimacy of caring for Azzi in this simple, quiet way knowing things might be different in just a month.

Once she finished, she set the brush down and softly ran her fingers through Azzi’s hair, letting the curly strands fall loosely around her shoulders. She kissed Azzi’s forehead, whispering, “All done, beautiful.”

Azzi smiled up at her, her eyes still a little red from earlier, but calmer now, soothed by Paige's presence and her care. She whispered, "Thank you, baby."

Paige smiled warmly, shifting to sink deeper into the bed, pulling Azzi closer to her chest, letting her head rest against her.

Paige’s voice softened as she spoke, “Now, how about you tell me what’s going on?”

Azzi sighed, her voice small and tired, reflecting how much thought she had been putting into whatever was on her mind. “I don’t know what to do.”

Off those words alone, Paige knew exactly what she was talking about. This had been weighing on Azzi for months—the decision looming over her since the start of the season. Paige exhaled softly, running her hand up and down Azzi’s back.

“You wanna talk about it?” Paige asked gently.

Azzi hesitated before nodding against Paige’s chest. “Everyone just wants something different from me.”

Paige frowned slightly. “It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks but you, Az. It’s your decision and your decision only baby I keep telling you that.”

Azzi let out a frustrated breath. “But Carol—”

Paige cut her off before she could finish. “It doesn’t matter what Caroline wants. Or your parents. Or your family. Or Geno. Or the fans.” Paige’s hand moved up to cup Azzi’s cheek, guiding her to look up at her. “It affects them, sure. But it’s about what you think you need, baby. Not them.”

Azzi sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing little patterns against Paige’s arm. “What do you think I should do?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she saw right through Azzi’s attempt to trick her into answering. “Nice try.”

Azzi groaned, burying her face against Paige’s collarbone. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

Paige smirked, her fingers still running soothingly through Azzi’s hair. “Because,” she said simply, “I know if I did, it’d play too big of a role in your decision.” She tilted her head, looking down at Azzi with a soft gaze. “Everybody else has been in your ear about this, telling you what they think is best. But I don’t wanna do that. I just wanna support you, whatever you decide.”

Azzi exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wish you were selfish sometimes and just told me what you want me to do.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “No, you don’t.”

Azzi pouted, shifting slightly against Paige. “Maybe I do.”

Paige grinned, tightening her arms around Azzi and pressing a kiss to her head. “Nah, because if I was selfish, I’d never let you leave me.” She smirked, nuzzling into Azzi’s neck before adding playfully, “You’d be a stay-at-home mom with our kids.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips twitched. “I’m serious, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige said, pulling back to meet Azzi’s gaze. “But I’m still not saying anything.”

Azzi let out a small, frustrated sigh before shifting, sitting up so she was now straddling Paige’s lap. Paige raised her eyebrows at the sudden movement, but all she did was rest her hands on Azzi’s waist as Azzi reached down, taking Paige’s hands in her own and beginning to play with her fingers.

“I care about what you think,” Azzi admitted, her voice genuine. “After me, my decision will affect you the most out of anyone.”

“I know, beautiful.”

Azzi held her gaze, and the way Paige was looking at her made her chest tighten. Paige always looked at her with so much love, so much trust, appreciation—so much everything. It used to be overwhelming but now all it did was make Azzi’s stomach flutter. She inhaled, squeezing Paige’s hands. “If I stay, our schedules will line up. I’ll be able to spend April, May, June and part of July with you. I’ll be able to come to a lot of your games, be there when you need me. You’ll be able to come to my games once your season ends.”

Paige remained silent, listening.

“But if I declare…” Azzi hesitated, her voice quieter now. “We’ll be in different cities for like half a year.” She bit her lip, her fingers tightening slightly around Paige’s. “But our contracts will be up at the same time and it’ll probably be easier for us to figure out where we want to settle. I feel ready now, I’m confident and I know I can do well in the league. But at the same time I feel like I haven’t put on the UConn jersey enough.”

Paige exhaled softly, searching Azzi’s eyes. “This is all true.”

“So, what do you think?”

Paige smiled and squeezed her hands gently. “I think no matter what you decide, we’re going to be perfect. We’re us. So I think you should focus on how you feel rather than what it means for us.”

Azzi groaned dramatically before throwing herself against Paige’s chest, making Paige chuckle as she wrapped her arms around her. She pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, her fingers tracing small circles on her back.

“You’re so annoying,” Azzi mumbled into her shirt.

Paige grinned. “And you’re my perfect, amazing, insanely talented girlfriend who’s going to do incredible things no matter what she picks.”

Azzi huffed, but Paige felt the way her body relaxed just a little more against her.

Paige knew that wasn’t going to fully ease Azzi’s mind, so she softly offered, “We can start the pros and cons list.”

Azzi sighed, her fingers still lightly tracing patterns on Paige’s arm. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby.”

Azzi smiled at this and after a beat she reached over, grabbing both of their phones and putting them on Do Not Disturb before setting them aside and settling back against Paige’s chest.

For a moment, they just lay there, wrapped up in each other, the room filled with nothing but the quiet sound of their breathing. Then, just as Paige was beginning to think Azzi might be drifting off, she felt the softest press of lips against her neck.

A smile tugged at Paige’s lips. She didn’t say anything, just tilted her head to the side slightly, giving Azzi more access.

Another kiss. This one lingering longer.

Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly. “Thought you wanted to sleep, mama.”

Azzi hummed. “Changed my mind.”

Paige chuckled, her fingers tracing patterns along Azzi’s back. “That why you put our phones on DND?”

Azzi didn’t answer, just pressed another slow open mouth kiss to Paige’s neck.

Paige exhaled, amusement laced in her tone. “You always this sneaky?”

Azzi pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a small smile. “Only when I really want something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, pretending to think. “Oh yeah? And what is it you want, baby?”

Azzi’s fingers lightly traced the collar of Paige’s shirt. “You.”

Paige licked her lips, her gaze never leaving Azzi’s as she whispered, “Do whatever you want then, baby.”

Azzi paused for a moment, her eyes twinkling with surprise—not from uncertainty, but from the way Paige had given her full control so easily. Azzi was used to being the one who had to talk Paige into submission, coax it out of her.

“Really?”

Paige grinned, her fingers slipping through Azzi’s hair, “Mhmm.”

Not wanting Paige to change her mind, Azzi lowered herself back down to Paige’s neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, her lips lingering in just the right spots to make Paige’s breath hitch. The kisses were slow as if she was savoring every moment, every reaction she was drawing from Paige even though she just started.

Paige swallowed a little harshly, her chest rising and falling in tandem with each kiss that Azzi pressed against her neck. She couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh when Azzi started to suck and nip softly at certain spots.

Azzi paused for a moment, her fingers still lightly trailing down Paige's arm, before she softly spoke, "I'm proud of you, you know?"

Paige opened her eyes, still slightly breathless and glanced at Azzi, her brows furrowing. "For what? I didn’t do anything."

Azzi smiled softly. "You got put on the wall today," she said, her voice filled with pride.

Paige shrugged, a casual nonchalance in her movements “I guess.”.

Azzi's smile only widened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she tugged at Paige’s shirt, silently asking for it to come off. Paige sat up, allowing Azzi to help her remove the shirt, the movement natural between them, as if they'd done this a thousand times.

Once the shirt was off, Azzi leaned in, her lips lightly grazing Paige's bare skin as she began listing off her accomplishments, her voice smooth as it flowed from one achievement to the next.

"National Player of the Year as a freshman… Naismith award…" Her kisses lingered between words, pressing soft kisses against Paige’s neck.

Paige, though clearly enjoying the attention, was already starting to get a little impatient. Her hand slid into Azzi’s hair, gently tugging her lower as she whispered, “Yeah, yeah, I’m great, I know. Can we speed this up a bit?”

Azzi smirked, not rushing. “You don’t just get to be amazing without a little recognition,” she whispered, continuing her trail of kisses down Paige’s neck, lingering with every word. “Big East Player of the year...twice…First Team all American... lost track of all the Most Outstanding Players…”

Paige shifted underneath her, trying to push Azzi lower. "I’m starting to feel like I need to hear all of this in one breath baby."

Azzi chuckled softly, completely ignoring Paige’s attempts to rush her. She shifted slightly, brushing her lips across Paige’s collarbone as she finished the list. “I’m just making sure you get the credit you deserve, P,” she teased, her lips now just above Paige’s chest.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at her lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard enough praise to last a lifetime, Az,” she murmured, now fully impatient. “Can we just… skip to the part where you stop talking about how amazing I am and focus on making me feel amazing maybe?”

Azzi laughed softly, pulling back to look at Paige’s face. “You really are amazing,” she whispered. “I’m just here to remind you.”

Paige sighed, but her arms pulled Azzi closer, her breath a little uneven, even as she tried to play it cool. “I appreciate it… but really, I wouldn’t complain if you hurried it up a little.”

Azzi’s lips found a spot just below Paige’s collarbone, her teeth grazing the skin before she bit down a little harder than she had previously. The sharpness of it made Paige flinch, a quick whimper escaping her as she clenched her jaw, eyes fluttering shut.

Azzi pulled back just enough to whisper in her ear, “Stop rushing me.”

Paige’s chest heaved slightly as she exhaled, trying to calm herself. Her fingers found Azzi’s shoulders, gripping them gently as she looked up at her with an almost apologetic gaze. “I’m sorry, pretty,” she murmured, her voice a little breathier than before. “I can’t help it... I just want you. Haven’t had you in like a week.”

Azzi smiled at this as she began to trail lower, her kisses growing a little sloppier. She paused at Paige’s chest before pressing her lips against the soft flesh. She sucked lightly, just enough to leave a few marks, ensuring that they would be hidden from view—just for Paige.

Paige’s breath caught in her throat at the sensation, her fingers curling into Azzi’s hair, drawing her closer. “You already feel so good,” she breathed, her voice filled with desire as she stroked Azzi’s hair, urging her to keep going.

Azzi hummed softly, the sound vibrating in a way that only made Paige crave more. She kissed her way across Paige’s chest, making sure she gave each sensitive nub attention as she swirled her tongue.

Paige’s breath grew more uneven as Azzi’s lips worked their way further down her torso. “Feels so good, Az,” Paige breathed out. “So good at this baby.”

Azzi paused just for a second, her lips still hovering over Paige’s stomach as she glanced up with a playful smile. “Yeah?” she asked softly. She leaned back down, tracing her tongue over Paige’s stomach before adding, “Tell me, baby, how does it feel?”

Paige inhaled slowly, her body responding to Azzi’s touch. “Perfect. Every time,” she whispered, her hands sliding to Azzi’s shoulders, her fingers tracing the muscles there.

When Azzi’s lips finally reached Paige’s waist, she took her sweet time, pausing with every kiss, savoring the way Paige’s body reacted—the way it twitched under her. She could feel the tension building in Paige, could hear the shallow breaths escaping her, and it made her smile inwardly. She loved how much patience she had to remind Paige to have each time.

Paige shifted slightly, her fingers digging into Azzi’s shoulders slightly, trying to keep her cool. She let out a frustrated breath. “Baby, please,” she whispered, her voice already a little horse with desire. “You’re killing me here.”

Azzi’s lips lingered on Paige’s waist, and she pulled back to look up at her, a glint in her eyes. “What did I tell you about rushing me?”

Paige let out a breathless laugh. “Not rush. But you know what you’re doing to me,” she said, her voice shaky. She swallowed, her hands instinctively moving to Azzi’s hair, tugging her closer. “Just... don’t make me wait no more.”

Azzi hummed softly, her lips brushing against Paige’s waist again, this time suck softly right above her waistband which seemed to drive Paige crazy. “You think I don’t know?” Azzi teased, her fingers pressing into Paige’s sides as if to remind her just how in control she was. “You get so impatient right here, don’t you? Sensitive?”

Paige let out a small, shaky laugh, her body stiffening as she tried to keep herself in check. “I can’t help it. You know what you do to me,” she admitted. “I just... want you, Azzi.”

Azzi smiled, leaning in and brushing her lips along Paige’s skin again before teasingly biting the spot just above her waist. Paige inhaled sharply, her hands tightening in Azzi’s hair, a soft gasp escaping her lips. “You’re not making it any easier,” Paige murmured, half laughing, half groaning.

“You really want me to hurry up, baby?”

Paige let out a frustrated, yet satisfied sigh, biting her lip. “Yes, please,” she whispered, her fingers now lightly massaging Azzi’s scalp as she attempted to push her head closer, needing more, aching for more. “You know I can’t stand being teased like this.”

Azzi’s smile widened against her skin. “I think you can handle it,” she teased. “Just a little more patience, I’m almost there,”

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her composure, but the way Azzi was taking her time, deliberately testing her patience, made everything seem much more intense. “I don’t think I can gorgeous,” she breathed, almost pleading. “Please baby...”

“You’re beautiful when you beg,” Azzi murmured with a smile. She reaches for the waistband of Paige’s boxers and Paige immediately lifts her hips to make it easier for her girlfriend to discard them.

Paige let out a frustrated whine, her fingers gripping the sheets when Azzi blew slightly on her center. “Azzi,” she breathed. “You’re—” She cut herself off with a shaky exhale as Azzi’s lips brushed against her folds, barely there, but enough to make her squirm.

Azzi smirked, feeling Paige’s body tense beneath her. “What was that?” she teased, pressing another soft kiss to the same spot.

Paige groaned, dropping her head back against the pillows. “You know what,” she mumbled, her hands flexing. “You’re teasing me on purpose.”

Azzi hummed in consideration, her fingers pressing lightly into Paige’s thighs, just enough to make her want more. “Maybe,” she admitted. She placed another featherlight kiss, her breath warm. “But can you blame me? You’re just so pretty like this.”

Paige inhaled sharply, her back arching slightly off the bed. “Azzi,” she warned, but it came out more like a plea.

Azzi chuckled, her hands moving up to grip Paige’s hips firmly as she felt her shifting beneath her. “You’re so needy,” she murmured.

Just the feeling of Azzi’s breath against her core had Paige’s body reacting, her legs twitching slightly, her stomach tensing under the sensation. She tried to push herself toward Azzi’s mouth, desperate for more, but Azzi’s grip tightened, steadying her.

“Stay still, baby,” Azzi whispered.

Paige exhaled shakily, biting her lip. Azzi let the moment linger, watching her with that smile before finally relenting.

She swipes her tongue across Paige’s center feeling her legs twitch slightly at the feeling making her chuckle. Deciding to fully put Paige out of her misery she starts working her tongue across her girlfriend’s core. She starts slowly using her lips and tongue perfectly knowing exactly how Paige likes it.

She looks up to find Paige looking down at her in complete awe, her blue eyes glazed over, her jaw slightly parted. This causes Azzi to smirk as she sucks Paige’s clit into her mouth gently, deliberately holding eye contact.

Paige immediately throws her head back against the pillow mumbling out, “Oh my fucking God.”

Azzi's eyes flickered up again, a small smile tugging at her lips as she mumbled out, “You like it?"

Paige nodded, her chest rising and falling faster as Azzi builds her up. "I fucking love it," she whispers as she pushes closer to Azzi’s mouth.

Azzi let out a satisfied hum—she always loved how vocal Paige was during sex. How worked up she could get her. “I love hearing you baby.” When she doesn’t get anything in response besides a few breathy whimpers Azzi starts slowly but deliberately tracing the letters of her name as she eats Paige.

Paige couldn't hold back the quiet gasp that escaped her throat when she realized what Azzi was doing. She opened her eyes looking down at Azzi. Her breath was shaky as she whispered, "Why you doing that?"

Azzi looked up her lips wet as she smirked. "It's mine, right?"

Paige's body responded immediately, a groan escaping her lips as her head fell back against the pillows again. She loved when Azzi talked like that. When Azzi made it clear that she knew Paige belonged to her and only her.

Azzi sucked a little harshly on Paige's clit, the slight sting mixing with the pleasure, as Paige moaned softly.

"You didn't answer me."

Paige's heart raced, as she tried to control the rise and fall of her chest. She reached down, her hands pushing Azzi closer to her. "Yes yes, it's yours," she whispered urgently, pressing herself into Azzi. "I'm sorry... just don't stop..feels too good."

Azzi does exactly as she’s told, working her tongue expertly across the entirety of Paige’s center. Occasionally dipping her tongue into Paige’s entrance and lapping at it before repeating the process.

Paige melts further into the mattress, her eyes naturally rolling back as she drops her jaw. “Oh shit mama…there you go baby just like that.”

It had been a while, in their terms, so Azzi wasn’t surprised when she felt Paige’s legs start to shake under her. She murmured a soft compliment against her skin, her voice hushed as she worked her girlfriend up. "You're so beautiful... can't get enough of you P. You always taste so good for me.”

Paige choked on her breath as she let out a soft whine, nodding her head against the pillows, not even bothering with words.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her chin dripping with Paige’s wetness. "You good?" she whispered.

Paige once again didn't bother with a response, the feeling in her stomach too intense to form words. Instead she just pushed Azzi's head back down, letting out a whimper when Azzi attached her mouth to her again.

Paige let out breathy moans, her head pressing deeper into the pillows as her hands stayed firmly on Azzi’s head. She tried to push herself further into Azzi’s mouth, desperate to feel her girlfriend more than she already was, but Azzi held her hips down, resisting with an amused hum as she lapped at Paige like she had all the time in the world.

“Mmm, Azzi, come on,” Paige murmured, her words already slurring slightly. “Need you inside, baby…don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean,” she murmured against her skin.

Paige groaned when she felt Azzi’s tongue dip inside her again, her hands tightening their grip. Her words tumbling out in a dazed rush, “You're—fuck, so—just please.”

Azzi grinned, feeling Paige’s muscles tense beneath her mouth. “Baby, what are you even saying?” She whispered.

Paige whined in response, frustrated with how composed Azzi sounded while she was barely holding it together. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her fingers flexing in desperation. “I can’t think, I just—” She exhaled sharply, her words dissolving into a quiet moan as Azzi pressed her tongue deeper

Azzi smirked, loving how easily Paige came undone for her. She slowly ran her hands up and down Paige’s thighs, keeping her firmly in place as she murmured, “I love when you get like this.”

Paige whimpered, her entire body feeling like it’s on fire.

Azzi’s smile deepened as she tightened her grip on Paige’s hips, steadying her. “Look at me, P,” she mumbled, her voice commanding.

Paige let out a shaky breath, forcing her eyes open to meet Azzi’s gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Azzi swore she felt her chest tighten. Paige’s hair was a mess, her blue eyes dark and hooded, her cheeks flushed that beautiful shade of pink that drove Azzi absolutely insane.

Azzi exhaled, her fingers flexing against Paige’s skin. “You look so fucked out baby,” she murmured, almost in awe.

Paige, still lost in the haze of sensation, barely processed the words before whispering back, “I am baby—fuck…I am.”

Azzi let out a soft, breathless laugh before dipping her head down again. Paige squeezed her eyes shut, throwing an arm over her face. A second later, she mumbled something completely incoherent, her words slurring together into a mess/

Azzi grinned, leaning in closer as she moved her tongue quicker, the sound filling the room as she finally worked to give Paige the release she wanted.

“Oh shit…Fuck mama just like that…keep going just like that Azzi baby.” Paige's grip on Azzi’s head tightened as she pushed herself into Azzi’s face.

The heat in Paige’s stomach became too much and before she knew it her thighs were squeezing around Azzi’s head as she whimpered out, “Imma cum... Fuck imma cum baby don’t stop."

Within a few seconds Azzi could taste Paige filling her mouth as she let out a series of quiet moans grinding against Azzi’s face to ride out her orgasm.

Azzi hums as she cleans Paige up whispering, “You always feel so good in my mouth baby.”

These words only cause Paige to let out another whimper as she pulls Azzi up toward her by her shoulders crashing their lips together in a deep kiss. Azzi hummed into it, melting against Paige as she rested against her legs.

Paige’s hands moved instinctively, tracing along Azzi’s waist as she seamlessly flipped their positions. Just as she started to lower herself, intent on returning the favor, Azzi’s hands gripped her shoulders.

“Wait,” Azzi whispered.

Paige froze, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s skin as she looked up, eyes dark. “Wassup?”

Azzi bit her lip, glancing toward the closet before meeting Paige’s gaze again. “Can you go get it?”

Paige furrowed her brows, still slightly dazed, as she hovered over Azzi. “Get what?” she whispered, her voice still a little breathy.

Azzi nodded toward the closet again. Paige followed her gaze, and realization hit her. A smirk grew on her face as she asked, "Which one?"

"The big one."

Paige raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" she asked, her voice a little lower now. "It's been a while since we’ve used one.”

Instead of answering right away, Azzi reached for Paige’s hand, guiding it into her shorts. She ran Paige’s fingers through her folds, silently showing her girlfriend how worked up she already was.

Paige swallowed at the feeling, her jaw tightening. She let out a slow breath through her nose, nodding. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Yeah.”

She pulled away, stepping off the bed and made her way toward the closet. Azzi watched her go, her pulse already racing in anticipation.

Paige strode back over to the bed, a smile tugging at her lips as she held Azzi’s gaze. She ran a hand down Azzi’s side.

"You gonna put it on for me?" Paige murmured, tilting her head.

Azzi bit her lip, her eyes flickering between Paige and the strap in her hands. After a beat, she nodded, reaching up to take it from her. She shifted closer, her fingers brushing over Paige’s skin as she helped adjust everything, her movements familiar.

Just before she pulled it up to tighten it, Azzi paused racing over into the nightstand, feeling around for something. When she finally grabbed what she was looking for, Paige’s eyes flickered down, and she let out a low chuckle, shaking her head.

“You’re crazy,” Paige whispered.

Azzi just grinned up at her, biting her lip as she looked Paige over. “You love it.”

Paige exhaled through her nose as Azzi ran her fingers down her stomach before sliding the vibrator in and pulling everything into place.

Paige got back on the bed hovering over Azzi as she placed gentle, lingering kisses along Azzi’s collarbone. Azzi’s hands found their way into Paige’s hair, her fingers gently massaging her scalp, guiding Paige closer. The heat between them growing again almost immediately.

Paige pulled back slightly, her lips brushing over Azzi’s neck as she muttered, “Too many clothes.”

Azzi smiled. “Help me then.”

With a grin, Paige sat up, her hands already working at the hem of Azzi’s shirt. She pushed it up over Azzi’s stomach exposing her piercing, before Azzi lifted slightly to help. Paige tossed the shirt aside, her mouth immediately falling to the soft skin of Azzi’s breast.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh as Paige rested her head there for a moment, her fingers trailing gently over Azzi’s sides. “So perfect,” Paige murmured.

Azzi chuckled softly, her hand caressing Paige’s back. “You always say that.”

Paige smiled against Azzi’s chest, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “Because it’s true baby.”

Paige let her hands drift over Azzi’s sides as she pressed another kiss to Azzi’s collarbone, then lower, her lips barely grazing over her skin as she made her way down.

Azzi shivered beneath her, fingers threading through Paige’s hair before slipping down to her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Look who's taking their time now, huh?” she murmured, her voice already breathy.

Paige smirked, shifting slightly so their hands could find each other, fingers interlacing. “Mhm,” she hummed, bringing Azzi’s knuckles to her lips, pressing a soft kiss there before returning to her slow descent. “Thought you liked it when I take my time.”

Azzi exhaled her grip tightening around Paige’s hand. “I do,” she admitted, her other hand trailing up the back of Paige’s neck, her nails scratching lightly.

Paige glanced up. “Then relax, pretty girl,” she whispered, squeezing Azzi’s hand before letting their fingers untangle so she could map out more of Azzi’s skin. “Let me enjoy you.”

Azzi swallowed, her breathing uneven as she let Paige explore her body for what was probably the thousandth time. Eventually Paige dipped her head lower, her mouth lingering over the spot just above Azzi’s hip.

Azzi’s body betrayed her, arching slightly, a quiet curse slipping off her tongue as she tangled her fingers with Paige’s again. “Paige,” she breathed, a plea wrapped in warning.

Paige grinned, biting down gently at Azzi’s hip before soothing it with a kiss. “You’re already squirming,” she teased.

Azzi bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled. “Because it’s you baby.”

“I got you,” she murmured.

Paige's hands moved down to Azzi’s shorts pulling them down and her underwear down, her eyes following the string of wetness that follows as she tugs them down.

Paige licked her lips as she murmured, “Damn, baby… it’s like that?”

Azzi sighed, her grip on Paige’s shoulders tightening as she nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, eyes locked on Paige’s. “It’s like that.”

Paige’s fingers traced slow patterns along Azzi’s thighs, her touch barely there. “So pretty,” she mumbled, gaze flickering downward before she paused. Her voice dropped even lower, almost a request, almost a demand. “Open up baby. Lemme see.”

Azzi swallowed, her pulse quickening at the weight behind Paige’s words. Slowly, she nods, spreading her legs further for Paige to see.

Paige shakes her head in awe before sinking down to be eye level with Azzi’s core. She mumbles out, “Swear I could die in this shit mama,” before immediately swiping her tongue across Azzi’s center.

Azzi sighs at the feeling and she can’t help but smile, rubbing Paige’s head when she hears her mumble, “Taste like heaven.”

Azzi whispers, “Feels like heaven too baby.”

Paige hums as she begins to drag her tongue across every portion of Azzi she can reach. Like it’s the last time she’ll ever have her.

“Jesus Christ,” Azzi gasps, tightening her hands in Paige’s hair trying to find some resemblance of control as her nerves immediately start firing in every direction. The only thing she can feel is Paige’s mouth and tongue working perfectly together in tandem—the only thing she can hear is Paige’s low hums and her wetness filling the room.

Paige is completely focused on drawing sounds out of her girlfriend. Her hands wrapped around her thighs to pull her closer. Her tongue hitting every spot she knows Azzi loves with ease.

After not even a minute Azzi’s fingers tangled in Paige’s hair are tugging just enough to make Paige look up at her. The dazed look in Paige’s eyes, her lips slightly swollen and wet, sent a wave of heat through Azzi’s body.

Paige blinked, her voice soft. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip tightening. “I need you,” she admitted, her voice nearly a plea. “I can’t wait baby.”

Paige smirked, her hands still resting on Azzi’s waist. “I just started.”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head. “I promise you can do whatever you want later,” she whispered, her thumb brushing against Paige’s cheek. “I just need you.”

Paige’s smirk softened, she nodded. “Okay,” she murmured, placing one last lingering kiss against Azzi’s clit before trailing back up her body.

Paige came back up to be eye level with Azzi, her breath warm against her lips as she leaned down, capturing her kiss. Azzi sighed into it, her fingers threading through Paige’s hair, keeping her close.

Paige trailed her lips down Azzi’s jaw, then lower, pressing a kiss to her neck before murmuring, “Wassup? How you want it?”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head to give Paige more access as she slid her hands down Paige’s back. “I’m in charge today.”

Paige chuckled against her neck. “Word?”

Azzi smirked, pulling Paige even closer. “Mhmm. Just for a little bit.”

Paige let out a low laugh, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist. “Alright, baby—”

Before she could finish, Azzi flipped them over, straddling Paige as she settled above her. Paige’s hands instinctively found Azzi’s hips as she looked up at her with an amused expression. “You need help?”

Azzi shook her head no as she slowly eased on to the strap almost effortlessly, her hands resting on Paige’s stomach for leverage. Her fingers flexed slightly at the feeling, pressing into Paige’s skin as her eyes fluttered closed.

Paige swallowed, her own hands gripping Azzi’s waist as she took in the sight of her. Completely in awe of how easily she sunk herself onto the full length, the way she was already dripping on Paige’s thighs. “That’s crazy,” she mumbled.

Azzi still hadn’t said anything, her chest rising and falling in a slightly labored rhythm. Her eyes remained closed, as if she was feeling everything, soaking in the feeling. When she finally opened her eyes, they were completely dilated.

Azzi tilted her head to the side, her curly hair flipped in one direction and a smirk playing on her lips as she locked eyes with Paige. Her hands flexed slightly against Paige’s stomach, nails scratching lightly over her skin in a way that made Paige’s breath hitch.

“You good down there?”

Paige just shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “I fall more in love with you every day,” she whispered, her hands sliding up to grip Azzi’s waist.

Azzi knew it was true—she could see it in Paige’s eyes, feel it in the way she held her—but she still let out a breathy, playful laugh. “You’re only saying that because of what I’m about to do.”

Paige huffed out a laugh. “Definitely makes it easier.”

Azzi hummed at this and with slow movements she starts to roll her hips as she moves up and down the strap. Feeling it hit somewhere deep in her stomach she can’t help but whimper out, “Oh fuck,” as her eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

Paige whispers out, “You’re already taking it like such a good girl mama.”

Azzi let out a breathy sigh, her voice coming out in a soft, bratty whisper. “Help me, P.”

Paige licked her lips before she nodded, hands sliding to Azzi’s ass, gripping her firmly as she helped her move. Her touch was steady, guiding, making sure Azzi was taking it exactly how she wanted.

Azzi exhaled sharply, her fingers pressing into Paige’s stomach for stability. “That’s it,” she murmured, biting her lip as she looked down at Paige.

Paige smirked up at her. “Thought you said you didn’t need help.”

Azzi huffed, rolling her eyes but leaning down, brushing her lips against Paige’s jaw. “Shut up,” she mumbled before pressing a soft kiss there.

Paige chuckled, her grip on Azzi tightening. “Mmm, make me.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze before smiling. She reaches over to the nightstand and clicks on the vibrator.

Azzi expects Paige to gasp at the feeling but she just licks her lips as she starts rolling her hips to meet Azzi’s movements. So instead Azzi grabs Paige’s hands from her ass moving them up and pressing them down on either side of her head.

Paige exhaled, her smirk faltering for just a second as she felt the warmth of Azzi’s hands pinning her down and the extra pressure of Azzi leaning forward. “Mmm, it’s like that?”

Azzi nodded, leaning in until their lips were barely touching. “It’s like that.”

Their lips met, slow at first, a teasing push and pull as Azzi intertwined their fingers over Paige’s head, pressing their hands into the mattress. Paige let out a soft sigh into the kiss, tilting her chin up to deepen it. Azzi took her time, savoring the moment, her lips moving with control, making sure Paige only felt what she wanted her to feel.

But as the seconds stretched, patience started to run thin. Azzi pushed herself closer, her body molding against Paige’s, and the kiss shifted—no longer controlled. It turned hungry and a little desperate, the sound of their breathing filling the space between them as they lost themselves in each other. Paige squeezed Azzi’s hands in her own, tilting her head to chase Azzi’s lips every time she pulled back for air.

Azzi let out a small, needy sound against her mouth, and Paige groaned in response, “Oh shit baby..feels too good.”

"I know," Azzi whimpers out. The feeling of Paige’s hips meeting hers becoming overwhelming as heat pools in her stomach.

It doesn’t take long for both of their movements to become erratic as the heat between them threatens to spill over.

"I’m close baby.” Azzi whispers near Paige’s ear, her fingers tightening around Paige’s hand.

"It’s ok mama..been such a good girl for me. You can let go baby," Paige rambles, her own voice getting breathless.

Hearing Paige’s words is all it takes for Azzi to let the pleasure take over, desperate moans and her girlfriend’s name rolling off her tongue in succession as she rolls her hips to extend the pleasure for as long as she can.

Paige takes Azzi’s movements as her wanting more so she flips them over before sliding back into Azzi with ease.

"Ohh shit baby.” Azzi whimpers out as Paige starts working her hips at the perfect pace.

“Fuck baby, you so perfect I swear," Paige mumbles out, as she speeds up her pace resting her forehead on Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi pushes at Paige’s waist trying to ease the way she’s pushing into her as she cries out, “P…I can’t—it’s too— too much baby.”

Paige immediately stills despite how close she feels and looks down at Azzi through hooded eyes, “I’m hurting you beautiful?”

Azzi shook her head quickly, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before meeting Paige’s gaze again. “No,” she whimpered, overwhelmed but not wanting her to stop.

Paige studied her for a moment, searching her face before nodding and starting moving her hips again, this time a little slower.

It doesn’t take long for her to speed up again, hitting a spot deep in Azzi’s abdomen.

Azzi managed to choke out Paige’s name but no other words escaped her lips as she felt herself being consumed by what the blonde was doing to her.

Paige’s fingers tangled in Azzi’s hair, as she started to thrust deeper, pulling out completely before easing back in. "Swear you were made for me," Paige whispered, her voice a clear indication of how close she was.

"Mhmm..yes baby right there—shit baby,” Azzi whimpers scratching at Paige’s shoulders as her stomach tightens.

"You wanna cum for me pretty girl?" Paige whispers.

"Yes baby…please—keep fucking me just like that.” The feeling has Azzi’s eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Fuck you sound so pretty—gonna make me cum baby..Im–" Paige can’t even finish her sentence as she comes undone on top of Azzi letting out a string of whispers of how good she feels.

The sound of her girlfriend is enough to send Azzi off the edge as she lets out a string of high pitched moans, her legs shaking from the sensitivity of coming undone in such quick succession.

Paige helps Azzi ride out her high, praising her as she sloppily kisses her chest before she’s pulling the strap out and collapsing on Azzi like dead weight.

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, running her fingers lazily through Paige’s hair as she felt her girlfriend fully relax against her.

“Turn it off”

Azzi chuckles tiredly, reaching over to the nightstand without even opening her eyes. She clicked the remote, and the soft hum filling the room instantly stopped.

Their heavy breathing lingered in the silence, and Paige shifted slightly, pressing a lazy kiss to Azzi’s collarbone. Azzi hummed, running her fingers through Paige’s messy hair, nails scratching lightly against her scalp.

Paige smiled against her skin, mumbling, “You feel better?” Her tone was playful.

Azzi exhaled a laugh, still catching her breath, before mumbling, “Fuck you.”

Paige grinned, tilting her head up as she whispered, “Already did.”

Without moving from where she was laying Paige tugs off the harness, dropping it at the end of the bed.

“We getting dressed?” Azzi asked, her voice still raspy.

Paige didn’t even bother lifting her head. Instead, she pulled Azzi closer, nuzzling into her chest with a sleepy sigh. “Nope. M’sleepy.”

Azzi smiled, wrapping her arms around Paige’s shoulders as she traced absent patterns on her bare back.

Paige mumbled sleepily against Azzi’s skin, her words slurred with exhaustion from their long day. “Can’t wait to marry you, baby momma…”

Azzi’s fingers, which had been lazily tracing over Paige’s back, paused for a second before she sighed. “Paige Madison.”

Paige laughed, her breath warm against Azzi’s chest. “I love you, wifey.”

Azzi shook her head fondly, tightening her hold around Paige as she whispered back, “I love you too, baby.”

With that, they both drifted off within a few minutes. Ending their night tangled together like they had done for years.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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cyberyam · 1 month ago

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stalker. - pt. two

pt. one | pt. two | pt. three

Pairing: Gangster!Toji x BabySitterFem!Reader

cw: sex; violence; mxrder; stalker; obsession; blowjobs; course language; gangs

Summary: Gangster!Toji doesn’t just get curious—he obsesses. After a single encounter, you take root in his mind, creeping into his thoughts no matter how hard he tries to push you out.

Gangster!Toji; finally, after a painstakingly long five-day wait, knew everything there was to know about you. And Toji hated waiting.

Since your encounter in the park, you’d been an unshakable presence in the back of his mind—slowly creeping forward, refusing to be ignored. No matter the situation, his thoughts would drift to you, to the curve of your smile, the way it lingered like a ghost in his memory. He tried to fight it, tried to take back control of his own damn mind, but it was useless.

Gangster!Toji; had a gun pressed to a man’s head, his finger resting lightly on the trigger—yet all he could think about was you. The subtle scent of honey and sweat that clung to your skin, how he would rather be buried in that warmth than suffocating in the thick, metallic stench of the bastard’s blood.

Gangster!Toji; would be benching weights in his home gym, jaw clenched as he readjusted his grip on the bar. But as his fingers flexed over the cold metal, he found himself wondering instead—how would they look wrapped around your throat?

Gangster!Toji; would take some nameless woman at whatever high-roller party he was forced to attend, letting her throw herself at him, letting her grind and whimper like it meant something. But he had to have her bent over—he couldn't stomach looking at her face. Not when all he could see was yours. With every thrust, his mind betrayed him, filling in the gaps—your expression beneath him, the way your eyes would darken, the way your breath would hitch. He thought about the melody of your laughter and wondered what sweeter sounds he could pull from you if it were you beneath him instead.

Gangster!Toji; he was already enraged by day two—unable to stomach the suspense of you still being unknown. Even now, with another woman on her knees before him, her lips wrapped around him, all he could think about was you. Every time she looked up, eager to please, his veins burned with frustration. Not because she was bad—hell, she was great—but because she wasn’t you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay in the mood.

Gangster!Toji; exhaled sharply before yanking her off by her hair, shoving her aside without a second glance.

"Go. I'm done," he muttered, already reaching for his phone.

The girl blinked up at him, stunned.

"But you didn’t cum—"

"What part of 'go' did you not fucking understand?"

She swallowed her protest and scrambled to her feet, gathering the clothing they’d carelessly tossed aside in their drunken haze before slipping out without another word.

Gangster!Toji; tapped his phone screen impatiently, waiting as the line rang once—twice—three times.

Finally, the call connected.

"Boss?"

"A name," Toji growled, his free hand flexing as he glared down at his still-hard problem.

"A name? What are you—"

"Are you fucking stupid?" His voice dropped to something lethal. "Do you have her fucking name yet?"

A pause. Then, finally—

"Ah. Yeah, boss."

Gangster!Toji; took care of his own hard-on that night the moment he learned your name. Just speaking it out loud left an intoxicating taste on his tongue, something rich and lingering, something that made him crave more. He wanted to know what face you’d make when he moaned it into your ear, how your body would react when he growled it again and again—each time rougher, each time more desperate—until it became a plea, a demand, as he fucked you harder, chasing his release.

Even after he came, your name refused to leave him. It played on loop in his mind, an obsessive, absentminded mantra—one he couldn’t stop, one he didn’t want to.

Gangster!Toji; had everything memorised by day seven—every turn, every stop, every moment you lingered. He knew exactly where to find you and when. He knew you were a babysitter, knew your routine down to the minute. Every weekday during the school holidays, you gathered your client’s kids, escorting them to carefully chosen activities. He watched. He logged every detail.

He knew your schedule better than you did. He knew which days were for the museum, which days for the park, which afternoons ended with a stop at the ice cream shop. He knew your favorite flavor. He knew the shortcuts you took when you were running late. He knew what time you got home, how long you took to wind down, the flicker of your bedroom light before it finally went dark. He knew the rhythm of your life, the pattern of your existence.

He knew what you spent at the grocery store, the exact days you stocked up. He knew your habits, the little routines you never thought twice about but followed religiously. He knew your past—your childhood home, your old schools, your ex-lovers, the heartbreaks you tried to forget.

He finally, finally, knew it all.

He watched as your light flickered out at the end of the night, knowing it meant you were finally going to bed.

Tomorrow, though—tomorrow, you would be at the park. He would wait until then.

#daddy toji #jujitsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #toji x reader smut #jujitsu kaisen x reader #smut #toji fushiguro fanfic

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certaimromance · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 The Girl Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: If Spencer thought being secretly in love with you was hard, having to avoid you in the hallway was even worse.

Words: 4,8k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of jail. painter!reader. post prison reid. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. angst, so much angst. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I struggled a lot writing this because it's a roller coaster, so sorry in advance.

“How long? It's not a problem to take care of everything, but I'd like to know if you'll be okay or—” Your voice almost cracked for a moment, your eyes still trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Spencer's sheets were still wrapped around your body, and you felt so connected to them that the thought of getting up while still watching him toss and turn looking for his shoes was too much.

“I don't think more than a day or two, I'll be fine.” He stopped his chaotic steps for a second and stared at you as if to make a promise. He paused, glancing away as if to compose himself before adding, “I have some work in Mexico. It came up last minute, or I’d have told you earlier.” His voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, and the words sounded rehearsed, like he was repeating something he’d practiced.

You frowned slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “Work in Mexico?” you echoed. “Since when do they send you out of the country for cases?”

“It’s not that kind of work,” he said quickly, his tone just a little too smooth, a little too practiced. “It’s…consulting. A conference on forensic advancements, some behavioral workshops, things like that.” He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, as if afraid to meet your eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”

You didn’t question him further. Why would you? Spencer wasn’t the type to lie, and the way his brows knit together, the way his voice softened with the promise, “I’ll be back soon,” made you believe him. But something about the way he shifted his weight, the way he avoided looking directly at you, left a faint unease in your chest.

��I’m sorry I couldn’t have dinner with you yesterday. And breakfast now. I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to fill the silence.

You tightened the sheets around yourself, curling into their warmth, feeling the lingering heat from the side of the bed where he had been only moments before. It felt like he had never really left, the space around you still filled with the faint echo of his presence. Watching him now, his movements a little frantic, his gaze flickering toward the clock every so often, made you feel like he was slipping away too quickly. A part of you, small and selfish, wanted to ask him to stay. To sit back down, to let the world and his trip wait just a little longer.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment, “Promise?”

Spencer’s gaze softened even further, a tenderness washing over his features as he moved closer to you. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes but was filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Promise,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle, as though sealing a pact between the two of you. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing your forehead before his lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. The kiss was tender, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though he didn’t want to pull away from this moment either. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, the space between you vanishing entirely. It felt like the world had narrowed to just this, just the two of you, and all the invisible lines you had drawn between friendship and something more blurred into nothing.

But before you could do something stupid, he pulled back, with his eyes lingering on you, still filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Have you seen my shoe?” he asked, his voice playful yet tinged with the usual frustration of his misplaced belongings.

You let out a small laugh, still wrapped in the sheets, the warmth from them mingling with the warmth of the moment. “Oh, you’re a mess, little boy,” you teased, your voice light and affectionate, the fondness for him slipping out in every word.

“Mittens take it again?” Spencer asked, his eyes glinting with playful exasperation. He had grown accustomed to your cat’s antics, and he could hardly be surprised at this point.

You nodded, grinning as you pointed to the underside of the bed. “Ding ding, genius,” you replied, your voice light and teasing as his gaze followed your finger. Sure enough, there it was, tucked under the bed, another casualty of your mischievous cat’s nightly adventures.

He grumbled good-naturedly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the chaos of the morning didn't matter when you were here with him and everything felt so domestic. As he bent down to pick up his shoe, you couldn't help but watch, your heart swelling at the sight of the man you were so in love with, even in his messiest moments. There was something about him, something in that moment, that made him feel so good, as if everything else could wait and the obvious fact that he didn't feel the same way about you didn't matter. Anyone outside the room generally didn't matter. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in sheets and laughter, clinging to a piece of time that was all yours and would be the only thing you'd have left when he was gone.

“She loves you, that’s why she does it…I guess she wants your attention,” you said, your voice trailing off, and the taste of the words felt sour in your mouth. It sounded too much like you were talking about yourself rather than your pet, and the realization hit you like a cold wave. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t.

He glanced at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I read something about that,” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he didn’t entirely understand the weight behind your words. It didn’t matter. You were used to it by now.

“You read about everything.” You gave him a small, rueful smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, the bitterness of the moment creeping into your voice. You were fine with it, you told yourself. Fine with everything.

He glanced at the clock, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I have to go…it’s late,” he said, and you could hear the quiet resignation in his voice. The moment, it seemed, had reached its inevitable end.

“Okay.” The word slipped out of your mouth more dryly than you intended, and you hated the way it sounded. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want the moment to end. But it was already slipping away, and you knew it. “But before you go…come here.”

He hesitated, looking at you with uncertainty in his eyes. But then, slowly, he took a step toward you, his face softening when you reached out to touch his cheek. The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and your heart skipped a beat at the contact.

“Is…is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if sensing the shift between you.

“No, I just want to say goodbye properly.” You shifted closer, your heart hammering as you moved toward him, your lips hovering near his. The temptation to close the distance, to kiss him, burned inside you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Take care and come back,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you meant. You kissed his forehead gently, your fingers instinctively smoothing his hair down as you did. “Now it’s like you have my blessing,” you added with a faint smile.

He smiled at you, the warmth in his expression a bittersweet thing that made your heart ache. “Thank you, and good luck tomorrow with my godchildren’s.” His voice was soft, but the moment was already passing, slipping away, and with it, the space between you both. He gathered his things, gave you one last lingering look, and then turned toward the door.

You stood there, watching him go, the weight of what you didn’t say crashing down on you. The door clicked shut behind him, and you felt a hollow ache in your chest, a longing you couldn’t quite name.

God, you really wanted kissed him.

God, he really wanted you kissed him.

When Spencer opened his eyes for the first time in a cell and felt a sickening jolt of disorientation. The dirty walls and a rickety bench stared back at him, mocking the comforting image of his organized room and, more painfully, the thought of you. The absence of your laughter, your touch, your presence, everything that had once grounded him, hit him like a freight train. He knew something was wrong.

As the days blurred together and the evidence piled against him, he clung to the belief that this nightmare wasn’t real. Every hearing, every damning piece of evidence that chipped away at his freedom, felt surreal. Even when the judge handed down his sentence, condemning him to months behind bars, the finality of it didn’t register. What shattered him was the moment he filled out his visitation schedule and consciously omitted your name. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like that. He didn’t ask anyone to explain, didn’t try to soften the blow of his absence. That, he thought, was the point of no return, the moment he lost everything.

But Spencer was so wrong. The true breaking point came when he walked out of that hellhole, finally free, and climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a physical ache, the pain in his chest sharper and heavier with every step. His hands trembled as he reached for his keys, the jangling sound unnervingly loud in the empty hallway. His gaze fell on your door, just a few steps away. The familiar sight sent his stomach into knots.

For the first time, he wished you wouldn’t be there.

The thought was alien, unnatural. You had always been there, and he had always wanted you there. When he was too drained to cook, you’d suggest their usual coffee spot, your smile lighting up the grayest of mornings. When his back ached from long nights bent over case files, you’d massage his shoulders, insisting scented candles could fix his bad posture and his bad days. When his mother’s health took a downturn, and he felt his world crumbling, you’d hold him, stroke his back, and promise that everything would be okay. And when his social battery was drained at reunions, you’d step in with your bad jokes or your art facts, making the world feel manageable again.

Now, standing in front of his own door, his fingers clumsy with the lock, all he could hope for was silence. He didn’t know how to face you, didn’t know if he could explain the broken pieces of himself.

His door creaked open, and he was greeted by the familiar scent of the home he had only dreamed of for the last while. It was overwhelming: clean clothes, slightly sweet candles, and something undeniably yours. The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stopped the moment he left three months ago and never returned until now. His heart shrank as he took it all in: the blanket you insisted on leaving on the couch, the pile of books you always meant to return to his library but never did, his fish swimming around as if nothing had happened, and even the plants by the window, thriving despite his absence because you had surely watered them without fail.

And then there were the little details, things that told him that you had not moved away from this place, from him. The plate you always left for his cup of coffee, the one you gave him last Christmas, was still on the counter. His favorite cardigan, the one he thought he had misplaced, was folded neatly on the back of the chair and smelled of the baby softener you liked to use. His books were exactly where he had left them, although one of them had a bookmark you had made, a telltale sign that he had read it and was waiting for him to come back to comment on it, as you always did.

But he hadn’t returned.

Not then. And maybe not now at all.

Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang, its shrill tone slicing through the heavy silence like a sharp reminder of reality. The vibration against his skin startled him, his body tensing as he pulled the device out. His gaze flickered down to the screen, and the name that appeared caused a knot to form in his stomach: JJ. His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing, unsure if he was ready for the conversation he knew would follow. But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding her. Jennifer wouldn’t let him slip away unnoticed, and if he didn’t answer, she might show up at his door, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he had.

With a resigned sigh, he swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”

The concern in his own voice surprised him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe he was just desperate to shift the focus away from himself.

“Everything’s fine,” JJ replied, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve been…quiet.”

He exhaled slowly, staring out the window, the city lights stretching before him and the memories cutting deep. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Just trying to catch up on things. All good here.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and there was a pause, a hesitation that made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing her next words. Then she cleared her throat, the sound small but deliberate. “Have you seen…her?”

The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He turned away from the window abruptly, pacing the length of the apartment as if motion could somehow ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw clenched, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I don’t know if I want to.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. How could he say that when every thought of you still made his heart ache? When the idea of you haunted him, so vivid and constant it felt like you were in every shadow of his empty apartment?

Jennifer’s sigh crackled over the line, heavy and filled with the weight of unspoken truths. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with that unshakable sadness she tried so hard to hide. “Every time I see her. I think…” She hesitated again, and Spencer could hear her swallow hard, choosing her next words carefully. “I think you owe her an explanation.”

He swallowed saliva and tightened his fingers around the phone. JJ was right, of course. She always had been. But the idea of facing you, of trying to explain everything without drowning in tears, seemed impossible. How could he tell you the truth? How could he look you in the eye and admit that he had spent the last three months in jail, paying for a crime he had not committed? That he had done things that he deeply regretted, that made him sick and a horrible person?

You deserved better. You always had.

You were a blessing to anyone who had you around, and he knew that better than anyone. That's why he recommended you as a babysitter for JJ's kids, that's why he insisted that you come out to the bar with him and the team several times, that's why he told his mother about you, and that's why he gave you unlimited access to every single part of his life and told you things he'd never told anyone else. You were the one he thought of during those long, sleepless nights behind bars when JJ brought drawings from her boys. He imagined you there with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Henry with his homework or letting Michael pile blocks on your lap. It was silly, and heartbreaking, but the thought of you, of your warmth and your kindness, had kept him going.

“I have to go…clean some things,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, so desperate to run away from the topic.

“Okay,” JJ replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Before Spencer could find the strength to speak, the line fell silent. The hum of the apartment filled the space around him, oppressive in its quiet, and he stood there, phone still clenched in his hand. The weight of it, the weight of everything, settled deeper into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the counter as if it could offer him some sort of escape from the quiet agony that had overtaken him. With a long exhale, he dropped the phone, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary, before pulling away with a heavy sense of finality.

Just as he was about to move, his mind already drowning in the whirlpool of thoughts he was so desperate to escape, a soft, muted thud broke the oppressive stillness of the apartment. The noise was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating quiet, it reverberated like a crack of thunder. His breath caught, his heart skipping a beat as his body went rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, his eyes locking onto the open balcony door.

A sleek black shape emerged from the shadows, moving with a practiced elegance that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light. Mittens.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the single syllable, hoarse and unsteady as if even addressing his might shatter the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.

The cat paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if considering him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then, without a second thought, she padded over, her steps confident and unhurried, the soft click of her claws against the floor the only sound in the room. She jumped lightly onto the couch, then onto the small table beside him, her movements fluid and practiced. As she reached him, Mittens sniffed his hand delicately, then nuzzled it gently, her warm, soft fur brushing against his fingertips. The familiar rumble of her purring filled the air, a soothing, almost hypnotic sound that cut through the tension and wrapped around him like a blanket.

Spencer let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the apartment. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the soft fur of her head, unable to stop himself from reaching out.

Mittens leaned into his touch, her purr intensifying as her little body pressed against his hand, seeking warmth, some affection. She didn't care about the months she hadn't seen him or just heard his name spoken a thousand times by you. To her, he was still Spencer, the same one who had fed her, played with her, and cared for her whenever he could. That was enough. She was very happy.

“You still remember me,” he murmured, a faint, fragile smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in what felt like an eternity.

The cat blinked up at him, her green eyes half-lidded with contentment, as if to say, Of course I do.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand resting on her soft fur, letting her purring fill the empty spaces inside him. It was such a small thing, her presence, but it reminded him of you, of the life he’d left behind, and the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until now.

But the calm didn’t last, and Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he heard a soft knock on the door. His gaze snapped up from the cat, who was now lazily sprawled across the arm of the couch, her purring uninterrupted. The knock came again, this time paired with a voice that sent a jolt through his chest.

“Mittens?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew it instantly. It was you.

Another knock followed, gentle but insistent. “Are you here, baby?”

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening as he registered the sound of your voice. You were here, in his apartment—or at least on the threshold of it. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see you again.

The cat, oblivious to the tension that suddenly filled the room, stretched lazily before hopping down from the couch. Her tail flicked behind her as she padded toward the door, her movements casual, as if she belonged here. Her eyes were fixed on you as you stepped through the open door, your figure partially silhouetted by the light from the outside.

“There you are,” you said softly, your voice brimming with relief. The warmth in your tone hit him like a physical blow, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

You crouched down to scoop the cat into your arms, your movements gentle and practiced. “You scared me,” you murmured, cradling her against your chest. Your voice softened, carrying that familiar tenderness he’d missed so desperately. “You’ve been running off so much lately.”

Spencer pressed himself against the shadowed wall, willing himself to disappear. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even look at you for fear his body might betray him. The apartment was dark enough to hide him, but he knew the signs of his presence were everywhere. His phone abandoned on the counter, the faint indentation on the couch, the way the air seemed to shift with the weight of him being there.

You didn’t notice. Your focus was entirely on Mittens as you stroked her soft fur, your touch so gentle it made Spencer ache. “I know you miss him,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips so quietly they almost didn’t reach him. “I do too.”

The confession tore through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, and he bit down hard on his lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

You lingered for a moment, your gaze sweeping over the apartment as if you could feel his presence, even if you didn’t see him. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned back toward the door.

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Mittens’ head before stepping into the night.

The door closed with a quiet click, and Spencer was left alone once more. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face. The silence was deafening, a hollow, aching void that swallowed him whole.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe fate didn’t want you to see him again…at least, not yet.

But then, the next morning, it happened.

You were returning to your apartment, groceries in hand, when you saw him.

He was standing at the end of the hallway with his back to you, as if he was leaving his apartment. As soon as you saw him, your heart skipped a beat and all your rational thoughts vanished. It seemed like an eternity since you had seen him, even though it had only been a few months. Your first instinct was to run to him, throw yourself into his arms, and demand an explanation, but something about his posture made you hesitate. He was stiff, distant, almost sad. His usual warmth was nowhere to be seen. And yet there was something different about him: his long hair, now a bit wilder and more unruly, framed his face in a way you had never seen before. Some curls fell over his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker and darker. The change in his appearance was shocking.

Without thinking, you dropped your groceries at your door and hurried toward him. “Spencer!” you called, your voice trembling with a rush of emotions you had bottled up for months.

He turned slowly, and for a split second, his eyes locked with yours. There was something in his gaze, a flicker of recognition, maybe guilt, but it quickly faded, replaced by a cool distance you had never seen in him before, at least not with you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. It was instinct, more than anything, to wrap your arms around him like you always used to do. The warmth of his body felt like home, like everything you had missed was right there in your arms. You held on tightly, breathing him in as if this would somehow make up for the absence. You’d been so lonely without him, and this, just holding him again, felt like it would fix everything that has been wrong lately.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t move an inch. This time his body was rigid, unyielding, as if he didn’t feel you or want you around. He did not return your hug. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it or really want it. His arms remained stiff at his sides, and you could feel his breath hitching against your neck, but he didn’t respond. It was like hugging a stranger, someone you once knew but no longer recognized.

“God, I missed you…” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was unreadable. His long hair now brushed against the collar of his shirt, the unruly beard framing his jawline. But his eyes were the only thing that stayed the same, cold and distant, void of the tenderness they once held. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence hung between you, thick and oppressive, before he finally spoke, his voice flat. “Sorry, I…I don’t think I’m the best person for that right now.”

Your heart sank, the warmth of the hug and reunion evaporating into a hollow chill. “What happened?” you whispered, feeling the pain creep into your voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so worried for you and JJ don’t say so much.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look like Spencer, not the one you had known, kind, warm, and always ready to offer comfort. His face was hard, closed off, and distant. He seemed…different, almost cold. “I’m sorry, I needed to get to…work,” he said, his voice clipped and curt. “I didn’t think you’d be awake at this hour.”

You felt a pang of confusion and hurt at his words. “What do you mean? You didn’t want to see me? You haven’t been here in months,” you said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. “You just disappear, and then you show up here, like nothing happened? You sleep here? I came to your apartment last night, and you weren’t there.”

He didn’t react. No apology, no acknowledgment of the pain he’d caused. He just stood there, cold, distant. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost sounding like an afterthought. “I had work to do. It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “That’s all you’ve got after disappearing for three months?”

Finally, his eyes met yours again, but there was no warmth in them. No tenderness, no familiarity. His gaze was hard, as cold as his words. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply, his tone final, cutting through the air like a knife.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The warmth that had once filled your heart whenever Spencer entered a room, the gentle care he had shown you, was now replaced by something colder. It was as if the person you had known, the person who had been your friend, your confidant, had vanished along with the man who used to leave you sweet notes and show up with your favorite food after a rough day.

“You…you don’t owe me anything?” you whispered, your heart breaking with each word.

The silence stretched between you again, suffocating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

But it was hollow, empty. A formality. Not an apology that meant anything.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned, walking away. “I have to go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still detached.

Before you could say anything else, he turned, leaving as quickly as he had appeared. And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you alone with the deafening silence and a heart full of questions.

Just like your worst fear: Spencer was avoiding you in the hallway.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #matthew gray gubler

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 6 months ago

Note

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

Pt.3

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

#x reader #dc x reader #neutral reader #yan blog #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harleen quinn #batman #bruce wayne #dc joker #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #jon kent #catwoman #selina kyle #harley quinn x poison ivy #poison ivy

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an-gothamite-aka-zannalial · 9 months ago

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If there's a problem with shapeshifters, brainwashing, copycats, or whatever. I like to think the batfam would say the most embarrassing things to others to prove they were the real one

Dick: tell something we only know

Jason: You hid the Batmobile from B because we accidentally used it to go to your school farewell party and ended up crashing into a lamp post because you were so drunk

Bruce: dick you what

Dick: I can explain

Jason: And you accidentally broke Alfred's favorite pan and then tried to replace it

Bruce: you know I change my mind, you alone in this son

Dick: wait, no don't left me

Tim: prove you real

Steph: You accidentally spilled an energy drink in agent A soup a few days ago, and begged me not to tell anyone

Tim: okay you real, And our agreement is still valid ok

Yj: you what tim

Jason: say something that can prove you not Copycat

Damian: The big wound on your chest was the result of you running and falling down the stairs in the league, not because you died

Dick: Jay why you lie to me

Steph: really I initially believed it was because Joker killed him

Tim: How could you fall down the stairs and get that big of an injury

Damian: It was a league ladder on a mountain, he didn't see the road at night because he was tired and slipped

Duke: Now I know I'm not the only one who gets injured because of silly things

Jason: *dies again

Harper: say it Copycat

Cullen: Before I become more suspicious, I want to say that Harper once peed her pants while riding a roller coaster

Harper: You bitch

Duke: Really I thought you were the I'm-not-afraid-of-anything-girl

Cullen: she just joking

Damian: Just admit you're a shapeshifter

Tim: No. And I have to remind you that you were the one who put those rat into the manor because you thought they were cute

Jon: what, is that true dami

Damian: No but ironically he is real

Bruce: you should

Dick: B Do I really have to tell you about the time you wanted to ask Talia out on a date but instead gave the wrong location,Or when you were scolded by Alfred for setting fire to the kitchen, or when you admitted that you were-

Bruce: enough you're my son

Jl: what

#batfamily #batfamily incorrect quotes #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfam #batfam incorrect quotes #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #jason todd #jason al ghul #tim drake #harper row #cullen row #duke thomas #stephanie brown #Jonathan kent #justice league #young justice

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fratttymatty · 2 months ago

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Nerd No More

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Chambers had never fit in.

At 18, he was the definition of an outcast—shy, awkward, and painfully thin. His curly brown hair always looked messy, no matter how much he tried to fix it, and his thrift store clothes hung loosely on his frame.

Being gay in his small-town high school hadn’t exactly helped either. The jocks ignored him at best and mocked him at worst. The girls saw him as harmless, like some kind of fashion accessory they could rant to about their boyfriend problems. The only place he felt comfortable was in online political debates, where he proudly argued for LGBTQ+ rights, feminism, and every progressive cause he could defend.

But none of that mattered, because tonight, Elliot was alone in his bedroom, celebrating his high school graduation in the saddest way possible—by watching Scream 6 for the twentieth time.

And, like always, his eyes kept drifting to Ethan Landry.

Ethan was everything Elliot wasn’t.

Tall. Muscular. Charismatic. A man’s man. He carried himself with confidence, the kind that made people listen when he talked. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t overthink. He owned every room he walked into.

And Elliot…

God, Elliot wished he could be like that.

As the final scene played, he muttered under his breath, "I’d give anything to be him."

The moment the words left his mouth, his laptop screen glitched. The audio distorted into a deep, warping sound. The lights in his room flickered. His stomach twisted like he was on a roller coaster—his head spun, his skin burned, and before he could scream—

Darkness.

Elliot woke up somewhere else.

His first thought? His body felt weird.

Bigger. Stronger. Heavier.

He blinked, adjusting to the light, and realized he wasn’t in his cluttered bedroom anymore. This was a sleek, college dorm room. The sheets were expensive. A faint smell of cologne and sweat lingered in the air.

Something felt off.

He sat up—and immediately noticed his arms.

Thick. Veiny. Powerful.

His chest? Hard muscle.

His stomach? Sculpted abs.

He shot out of bed, his movements effortless, natural, as if his body knew exactly what it was doing. He turned to the mirror on the wall, and when he saw his reflection—

He froze.

Gone was Elliot Chambers, the skinny, nervous high schooler.

Staring back at him was Ethan Landry.

Chiseled jawline. Piercing blue eyes. Broad, commanding shoulders. His once scrawny frame had been replaced with pure masculinity. His thick, wavy brown hair was perfectly styled.

His lips curled into a smirk.

Wait—why did I do that?

His heart pounded. His hands gripped the edge of the dresser as a wave of thoughts flooded his mind.

His old memories—the ones of Elliot—began to fade. His liberal ideals? Slipping away. His insecurities? Erased. His attraction to men? Warping. Changing.

Instead, new thoughts took their place.

Memories of hitting the gym, feeling his muscles burn as he lifted heavier and heavier weights.

Memories of locker room banter, laughing with his boys about girls they’d hooked up with.

Memories of dominating debates, not with nervous, overthought arguments—but with pure confidence, shutting people down with facts, logic, and sheer presence.

His lips curled again—this time, it felt right.

Liberalism? A joke.

Feminism? Annoying.

Being gay? A phase.

No—he was straight now. Powerful. Unstoppable.

And most importantly… he was a man.

His phone buzzed. Without thinking, he grabbed it, his large, veiny hands dwarfing the device. A text popped up from:

Jessica ❤️

Jessica? His brain rewired instantly. His girl. His property.

Later that night, Ethan strolled into the frat party like he owned the place.

Jessica was on his arm—a gorgeous blonde in a tight dress, her curves displayed perfectly. She clung to him, giggling, tossing her hair, worshiping his every move.

"Like, babe," she whined, "you totally ignored me for, like, two whole hours today."

Ethan smirked, gripping her waist. "You’ll survive, babe. I got business to handle."

Her pout disappeared as she melted into his touch. "Ugh, fine, but you owe me, kay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, barely paying attention.

He wasn’t here for her. He was here for the boys.

Spotting his best friend, Chad Meeks-Martin, Ethan broke into a grin.

"Bro," Chad called, clapping him on the back.

"Bro," Ethan responded, handing Chad a beer.

They leaned against the wall, watching girls grind on the dance floor.

"Man," Chad muttered, shaking his head, "these chicks pretend to be all independent, but get a few drinks in them and they’re begging for attention."

Ethan laughed. "Right? It’s embarrassing. That’s why I don’t take ‘em seriously, bro. They say they want ‘respect,’ but then they chase after guys like us—not some soft-ass ‘male feminist’ loser."

Chad snorted. "Facts. These woke dudes think being ‘sensitive’ is attractive. Meanwhile, we’re out here running shit."

Ethan smirked, taking a swig of beer. "Exactly. We provide, we protect, and they submit. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it always will be."

Chad raised his bottle. "To real men."

Ethan clinked bottles with him, smirk widening.

Elliot Chambers was dead.

And Ethan Landry was here to stay.

#male tf #male tf story #gay to straight #nerd to jock #smart to dumb #gym bro tf #conservative tf #lib to con #ethan landry

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hawksbacktattoo · 2 months ago

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The Enemy | Kwon x Fem!Reader

Summary: reader is the twin sister of Robby and Kwon takes an interest in her

Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, smut with plot

Word count: 1.8k

Not proof read

Accompanying her brother and his friends to the community pool, yn sat in one of the pool side lounge chairs. Kicking her legs up, she stretches her arms and grabbed a book from her bag. "You're always nose deep in a book, why don't you take a break for once." Her twin roller his eyes at her, taking the book from her hands.

"Just because your a dumbass doesn't me I have to be Robby." She snapped back, snatching her book back from him. "Still doesn't defeat the fact that your at a pool reading a book." Giving her a matter of a fact look, she groaned putting her book back in her bag.

"If it weren't for dad, I wouldn't even be here." Robby smiled triumphantly, throwing his arm over his sister's shoulders. "This is so much better than staring at words all day." Shaking her head, she stood in line with him as they waited for take a turn on the slide.

Sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet submerged in the water watching her brother goof around with his friends. Yn smiled, loving to see her brother in such a good mood.

"How are you doing, beautiful?" He voice spoke behind her, head turning to see her brows knitted together. "Can I help you?" The boy smirked down at her before bending down to her level. "The names' Kwon and you are?" He questioned, dragging out his words.

"Yn Keene." She responded plainly, a little uneased by the suddency. A look washed over his face that she couldn't register. Before he can say another words, water splashed frantically in front of her, water flinging as Robby basically leaped out of the pool.

"Back away from my damn sister." He shoved Kwon back, taking a protective stance in front of yn. "Robby relax, he didn't do anything wrong." Yn stood, grimacing at her twin.

"He's Cobra Kai yn." He croaked, glaring at the male in front of him. "Him being here is wrong." Yn was taken aback, this is the first time she'd ever hear her brother talk like this.

Clicking his tongue, Kwon shook his head. "We can settle this here and now Keene." He took his stance, jaw clenching. "Woah break it up you two." The life guard stepped in. "Either you stop now or everyone can leave."

Glaring at Kwon, Robby took yns had and walked her away from the boy. His grip on her wrist was rough. Making it back to his group of friends, yn yanked her hand from him. "The fvck is your problem? All that karate bullsh!t has nothing to do with me." She snapped.

"I don't care, stay away from him yn." He argued back stepping back into the water. "Whatever Robby, I'm going home." She stomped away, snatching her things from her chair before leaving.

Yn hated the way he was when it came to all the karate junk. He became cocky, controlling and just out right annoying. Rolling her eyes, she unlocked the door to their apartment and slammed the door behind her.

At school the next day, yn saw Kwon at his locker and walked up to him. "Hey, uh I just wanted to apologize for the way my brother acted yesterday." Closing his locker, he lent his side against it smiling.

"Hm, I'm not sure I accept." Yn could hear the tease laced in his words and giggled. "Oh no.. what can I do to make it up to you." She played along, textbooks pressed to her chest. She looked like a stereotypical heart eyed school girl.

"How about a date?" He became serious, eyes sparkling with a glee of hope. Yn was shocked, words falling from her lips in a stumble. "Yeah, t..that sounds good." Her face burned seeing the excitement on his face.

"Meet me at the Roller Rink at 6." He smiled sweetly before walking past her to get to his class. Yn was excited, her first date ever.

Spinning around, she was met when a very angry looking Robby and the disappointed looks from his friends. Sighing deeply, head rolling as she made her way to him.

"Don't even say anything I know. 'He's the enemy' blah blah." She mocked his voice, lips piercing straight. "I don't want to see you with him again yn, I'm serious. He's bad news." He poked at her shoulder with each word.

Shaking him off, she pushed past him to get to her own class.

Sitting in front of her vanity, butchering the words to the song playing. She gleamed while applying her makeup. She had already showered and dressed herself. Adding the final touches to her outfit and removing the curlers from her hair, she did a little spin.

Tip toeing past her brothers room, slipping into her shoes and grabbing her keys, she hurriedly left the apartment. Taking the bus to get to the Roller Rink.

Stepping off the bus, a smile pulled at her lips when she saw Kwon waiting outside for her. Hands tucked in his pockets and rolling back and forth on the heels of his feet. He looked cute, his normal hard demeanor replaced by something softer.

His face lit up when he saw her walking his way. Taking his hands from his pockets and wiping them on the side of his pants. "You actually came." He chuckled, arms now crossed over his chest. "It was actually pretty exciting sneaky away from my brother." She laughed, following behind him as they headed inside.

Paying for their skates, Kwon helped yn tie the laced on hers before slipping into his own. Butterflies exploded in her stomach when her hand laid into his as he helped her up.

Rolling backwards, he leads her into the rink never letting go of her hand. She wobbled as they rolled around. "I haven't done this in so long." She admitted, eyes glued to her feet. "I got you don't worry." Words rolling off his tongue so sweet.

She wasn't sure about him at first but the more time she spent with him, she was drawn more to him.

The two laughed and talked as the rolled around. Yn slipped a few times and Kwon laughed every time, helping her stand again. Slapping his arm she gasped through a smile. "Not funny asshat." He snorted, lips quivering trying not to laugh. "Totally not laughing." The corners of his lips flickering.

Tripping over the back of her skate, she slipped again. Kwon grabbing her just before she hit the ground, pulling her to his chest. "You're so clumsy.." His words trailing off at they stared at each other. Her eyes flicking between both of his.

Then their lips collided, sparks flying around yn. Her hand lifting to hold the side of his face, kiss becoming deep and intimate.

Pulling apart, he helped her upright gaze darkening as she pants. Gulping and clearing her throat, she rubs her arm. "It's getting late, I think we should go." Skating past him, heart pounding in her chest and stumbling as she stepped up onto the carpeted floor.

It was quiet between them as they returned the skates. Eyes looking every where but each other when they left the building. "Can I walk you home?" He broke the silence. Yn could see the link hue in his cheeks. Nodding in agreement, they walk side by side in the direction of her apartment.

Kicking rocks under her feet, her stomach twirling every time Kwon's hand brushed against hers.

"This is me." She whispered, not wanting her brother to hear her. Sighing, Kwon stepped up to her, pressing his lips against hers again. "Good night." He turned to walk away when yn shouted, "wait." Hand slapping over her mouth with a wince and looking frantically behind her.

"Wait by that window." She directed, quietly making her way back into the apartment. Kicking her shoes off, she could here music coming from Robby's room as she crept past.

Closing her door behind her, she rushed to the window and slid it open for him. Understand what she wanted, Kwon climbed through the window.

Pressing her pointer finger over his lips, shushing him while biting her bottom lip, she led him to her bed, tugging on the bottom of his shirt.

Kicking his shoes off as he crawled up her bed above her, Kwon smiled down at her. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, hand brushing over her arm. "Come here." Yn chuckled, pressing her lips to his.

His hands explore her body, tongues dancing. Yn tugged at the bottom of his shirt, backing from his lips. "Take this off." She panted, releasing herself from her own top.

Throwing his shirt aside, Kwon hummed against her skin as he kisses done her chest. Sigh like moans leaving yns lips, gaze on him, watching his every move. Her toes curling when his hand graze over her clothed heat.

"Kwan.." She whimpers as he slides her jeans down her legs, tossing them just as he did with his shirt. He was quiet but he didn't have to speak, his gaze and the burn of his fingers against her skin was enough.

Unbuckling his jeans and pushing them down, he parted her legs, lips brushing hers as he slipped into her. His breath shakes hearing her moan for him.

The tension burned heavy between them. With every thrust, yns moans growing louder. Forgetting about everything, she let herself go. Eyes closing tight and back arching off the bed when he pounded into her sweet spot.

"fvck." Kwon groaned, brows furrowed, lips pressed together. His eyes glued to where their bodies were connecting, loving how she cleched around him.

The sounds of their bodies connecting mixed with yns screams of ecstasy filled the room. Bed scraping the floor beneath it as he railed into her harder, sweat dripping down his face.

Turning her on to her stomach, he pushes back into yn with an exasperated sigh. Biting down on the sheets yn moved her hips to match his thrust.

Kwon hissed, fingers digging deeper into her sides. "Just like that." The harder she fvcked back on to him, the more aggressive his grunts and groans became.

Pulling out quickly, Kwon grunts as he spewed his load onto her back. Chest heaving when he finishes.

The two were so caught up in the moment that they didn't notice the music from the next room stop.

Bringing yn into his arms, Kwon smiled and pecked her lips.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open. "What the fvck!" Robby shouted. Yn yanked her covers over her naked body. "Not only did I tell you to stay away from my sister, but you're in my house fvcking her!?" Robby's voice echoed throughout the apartment.

"Robby get out!" Yn yelled, throwing one of her pillows at the boy. Shaking his head, he turned, slamming the door behind him.

Kwon look mortified, hands covering his private area. "Let's hope I make it to my 19th birthday." He chuckled, body relaxing. "Just ignore him." Yn reassured, pulling him down into her arms.

#cobra kai smut #cobra kai #miguel diaz #eli moskowitz #fanfic #hawk cobra kai #robby keene #cobra kai x reader #demetri cobra kai #robby cobra kai #cobrakai #cobra kai x you #cobra kai x fem!reader #kwon jae sung #kwon x reader #kwon x fem!reader #kwonsmut

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formylovetodaryldixon · 4 months ago

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"Like there was no tomorrow." CH.1—Daryl Dixon.

Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow. But when you come back into his life, you’re sure you won't fall for him again. However, even against your wishes, he will stay close to you, protecting you from getting hurt or worse, because a life without you is unimaginable. Now, like a roller coaster of emotions, you have to face your confusing feelings in an apocalyptic world, until you finally decide what the hell you expect from life, besides the chance to live one more day. And when a little girl shows up in your lifes, she may be the path to a safe place you two can finally call home. But, will that be enough to be together? Or will the past be too much to survive the storm?

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

WARNING: Death, blood, a lot of bad words hehe (but also romance and even some comedy if I can get it right hehe)

ERA: From prison onwards.

A/N: Hello! It is with great fear in my heart that I share with you the first chapter of this series. I hope you like it! I am not the best writer but I want to keep writing about Daryl, so I hope you give this story a chance. Thank you so much! I loved that dialogue of Michonne making fun of Daryl when she found out he had a girlfriend hehehe

You met Daryl before the dead came back to life.

He was a young man working for the owner of a motorcycle repair shop: the pay was bad, but good enough to get by. You were the child of a police officer (who had drinking problems) the typical sheltered (but down–to–earth) young person, just trying to make your life meaningful. One day, your older brother took you to the place where his motorcycle was being repaired, and the rest of how you and Daryl met was history.

But that first day, it was a big surprise for him when you talked to him, because someone like you, who stood out like a brilliant sapphire among a pile of discolored rocks, talked to him like he was just like you. And it was almost blinding looking at you, like trying to look directly at the sun.

Daryl had a small inferiority complex he knew how to mask well, but from that day on, he couldn't wait to see you again.

After that, it was a good three and a half years, with a few petty arguments, and a ring hidden in the back of his drawer that he never gave you. But the day he broke up with you, Daryl did it through his own suffocating pain, through his mistaken idea that he wasn’t enough for you, that the life he could offer you wasn’t the one you deserved, so that day, he let you go. However, it would be a lie to say it was easy for him, because for the next 4 months, Daryl did nothing but come to see you every night, just to make sure you got home safely from your job.

A little bit later, the apocalypse began.

Daryl tried to find you that night, but your house was a mess, and there was no sign of you, so he and his brother left town. But he never stopped looking for you anywhere he went, he never stopped dreaming about you, because Daryl knew you were still alive.

And life, is a funny and unpredictable lil' thing, isn't it?

“Don't move.”

Your firm voice sinks into the ears of the man with his back to you, whose heart wakes up frantically when he feels the cold muzzle of your gun on the back of his head. The cold air of the abandoned room that used to be a classroom in that forgotten university makes the hairs on his skin stand on end, but he’s too scared to even breathe.

You don't mean to scare the poor man like that, but like every so often when you came to look for other kinds of medicine, you never expected to find another living being in that place, especially one that preferred to take the bottles of alcohol when other things were more important now, putting his life at risk for something so insignificant—Therefore, he didn't seem like a person you can trust.

“Hey, I’m Bob and I’m not looking for trouble…” The man says softly, his hand holding the last bottle of alcohol that he had picked up from the ground, but frozen now in mid–air. “My group and I are looking for medicine for our people—”

“Yeah? I didn’t know you healed people with vodka.” You respond, your tone serious but loaded with sarcasm. “Put the bottle down and get out of here slowly. I'm not going to hurt you, but please, don't do anything stupid.”

Helpless, Bob complies with your command before beginning to walk outside, hands in the air to show you that he is harmless, but he is also unable to see the small falcon above your right shoulder. The yellow paws of your little girl cling to the fabric of your black long–sleeved shirt, without hurting you, but keeping her black eyes fixed on the prey before her, watching his movements and any attempt of sudden attack. However, the moment you two cross the door and take a couple of steps into the apparent lonely hallway, a light, almost silent footstep, like the weight of one of her feathers is heard in the falcon’s ears and Aeris makes a low sound, a warning that makes you turn the muzzle of the gun towards your right, towards the door on the other side of the hall in a single second.

Across the hall, Daryl lowers his crossbow when he sees you through it, even if it's almost impossible for him to believe that you're really there in front of him, not after he spent all that time looking for you since you two broke up. You lower your weapon as well, keeping a frown to prevent the surprise from causing your emotions to overflow, but your heartbeat is as loud in your ears as if you had just fired a bullet on that silent and deathly place.

You knew he was out there and alive, (because Daryl was too smart with his survival instincts and all) but you never imagined you would see him again, somehow different from the last image you still keep in your memory. His hair is long and covers part of his eyes, but his gaze is the same, those cold blue eyes that used to see you differently from the others—They are warm, full of affection.

“Peach?” His deep, low voice, the one you once thought was lost when he let you startles you now, but you keep your emotions back on track as he approaches, slowly, with a singular fear in his eyes. “Shit. I can’t believe s’ya.”

Behind him, a man with a gun and a woman with a katana walk out of the room, backpacks on their shoulders and serious expressions, because in that new world no one bothered to smile and be friendly with strangers anymore, and it is understandable given the circumstances.

“I went to look for ya at yer house when the bombings in the city started…” Daryl always had a special way of looking at you, just like now, so intense that when you first met him, you were afraid of drowning in his ocean–colored eyes. “Ya weren’t there, and yer dad…”

The sudden memory, the one you used to push into the deepest, darkest part of your mind, comes back to you with the force of a hurricane.

“Yeah, guess my dad was too drunk to get out of there.” You say softly, so softly so as not to sink into guilt for leaving him when he yelled at you to run. “My best friend was with me that night and it's just been me and her this whole time.”

“Peach…”

But Daryl’s voice is silenced when Aeris makes a sound again, looking down the hall where the first walker turns the corner, growling and bringing others behind it.

“We need to go!” The katana–wielding woman takes the lead, walking the other way.

You and the new group follow suit, passing a pair of classrooms that hid some silent monsters until they feel everyone's presence. The moment their putrid ears hear the pounding of boots on the tile floor, they all respond with the same command: growling in their incessant purpose to kill as they start following the living. The only clear room you all enter is windowless, and it is so dark that it plunges you into a new kind of darkness that the light from the flashlight you and the woman pull tries to fight off.

“Hey! The door’s broken.” Bob whispers, teeth clenched in fear as he presses himself against the closed door.

“Hold on.” Daryl steps closer, pushing the heavy animal cages to block the path of the flesh–eaters that begin to pile up against it.

You stop beside the woman, your flashlight pointing at the staircase sign above the wooden doors on the other side of the stifling room.

“Hey. There.” You tell her, and when her flashlight points in the same direction, she nods at you. But as you approach the chains covering the doors, rotting hands try to reach for you all, hitting their bodies against the wood, through the small gap between the boards. “I don't know how many are on the other side.”

Daryl and Bob back off when the unlocked door on the other end begins to give way, threatening to let in the first monster that stumbles into the cages.

“We can take ‘em.” The big man in the woolly hat says, his gun ready to fire, but is silenced by Bob’s words.

“No! They’re infected. Same as at the prison. We fire at ‘em, get their blood on us, breath it in. We didn’t come all this way to get sick.”

The man in the hat points the flashlight at him.

“How do we know the ones in there aren’t any different?”

“We don’t.” The woman replies, sword in her hands.

“Well, s’ gonna change sometimes.”

Daryl approaches the upside–down chair near him, using his boot to break the legs. He steps up to the door next and uses his weight against the chains to break them, throwing the doors wide, the first monster nearly tripping over another with their hands in the air, ready to sink their teeth into the skin of the closest victim.

Simultaneously, you and the woman take them down with a bullet and a swing of her katana, clearing the way for the others. It’s dark the minute it takes you all turn around a corner, but then, the daylight hits you in the face as you take the first step towards the staircase, the sunlight lighting the way up with the others in front of you.

Out of nowhere, you feel Daryl's hand on your lower back to guide you even though you know where to go, but before you can protest, Aeris swings on your shoulder before taking flight to the next floor over the heads of the others. You had saved that bird when she was a hurt, and now, she is the compass that always guided you to a safe place: you trust her with your life.

“Follow her...” You say, taking the lead when everyone stops for a microsecond. “She’ll find the path clear of walkers.”

“How the fuck will she do that? It’s a bird!” Bob grunts, but following the rest up the steps.

“Because she’s smarter than all of us put together.” You say through gritted teeth in frustration, stepping into the floor as the stairs finally end in front of you.

The room opens up into two hallways, and though the hallway on the left is clear, Aeris is standing on the edge of the closed window on the right side, speaking in small sounds.

“There’s no way out through there!” Bob shouts too loud, but before he takes a step into the apparent emptiness on left, more monsters round the corner and others come out of the adjoining rooms, growling in the distance.

“Fuck…” Daryl grunts as he passes you, watching in frustration how the bird returns to your shoulder. “We make one then.”

He loops his crossbow strap around his body before grabbing a fire extinguisher from the ground, throwing it at the glass. The window makes a loud sound as glass falls in all directions, but clearing an improvised path for you all. Daryl climbs up to the edge, giving the woman his hand first to cross to the other side, but when he's about to do the same with you, you're already standing on top on your own.

He narrows his eyes, frustrated at your tendency to do things alone even now.

You jump onto the roof next to the window, but it is so narrow that your knees bend as you fall, using your hands to keep your balance. Aeris rocks with the movement, but she remains on your shoulder. The man in the hat jumps next, followed by Daryl, and finally Bob, who uses a little more strength than necessary and the weight of his backpack propels it over the edge, falling into the void where dozens of hands rush to try and grab it.

There on the ground, mouths are open and hands grab onto the backpack strap, but Bob has no intention of letting go even as he struggles with them, half his body already down. The others rush to help, but Aeris shifts uneasily on your shoulder, as if she's holding you back, her own reaction to the impending danger and not just from the dead.

Finally, Bob manages to pull himself halfway up from the edge, pushing his backpack against the floor of that ceiling, which makes a clear sound you and Daryl know well from your past lives: the sound of glass bottles and the memory of what came after his parents and your dad were intoxicated by it. And amidst the haze of confusion and as racing hearts try to calm down, Daryl kneels in front of the half–open backpack, grabbing a full bottle of vodka.

“Ya got no meds in yer bag?” You can hear it, the danger in his angry, yet low voice. “Just this?”

Bob tries to speak, to say something coherent in his defense even when everyone knows, including you, that there is no excuse to support his reckless action.

But when Daryl tries to throw the bottle, Bob’s hand instinctively reaches for the gun at his waist, letting out a no under his breath. And suddenly, and even outside and with all the open air, the impending tension closes dangerously around the others. You knew Daryl grew up without a single ounce of fear in his body, forgetting what it was after all the beatings his dad used to give him when he was little, and now, he, so sure that he can beat the shit out of Bob without even using his gun, steps closer to his face, looking him in the eyes. Daryl has a short temper, and from behind, you can see his back tensing up in anger, his hand taking the gun from Bob's waist before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He's good, you know that, but his rage and frustration were always really short, almost deadly, and dangerous like playing close to a volcano.

But Daryl keeps grunting softly, like a wild animal, his blue eyes fixed on Bob, though he can't meet his eyes.

“Daryl…” You say softly, trying to ease the tension of the situation before he ends up pushing the poor man over the edge. You’ve already seen him hurt someone for less in a bar, when a drunk guy tried to hit on you, calling you by a disgusting name that Daryl eventually made him swallow with the punching he gave that man. “Don’t do it… please.”

Your voice is like a magnetic aura, something that pulls him away from anger before they awaken, and Daryl exhales through his nose, letting out all his emotions first, his jaw too tight to speak at that second.

“Take one sip ‘fore those meds get to our people, and I will beat yer ass into the ground.” He says, low, and it’s not a warning: it’s a promise you know he’ll keep as he pushes the bottle against Bob’s chest. “Ya hear me?”

Daryl steps away from Bob, giving you a silent look before continuing, although he's not surprised that only you can calm that fierce temper of his, even after being apart for so long.

“Do you have a doctor where you’re staying?”

Out in the open field, Aeris is always flying nearby, you know that. But the moment you enter the once–convenience store, connected to a house, the long hallway seems to become small until it closes around your throat because of the thought of not being able to get help for your friend, who had been lying in bed for a few days, covered in sweat and under an excruciating pain that kept her almost unconscious, is a dark picture that dances in your scared mind.

“Yes, but…” Michonne hesitates, not knowing how to continue, how to explain that the seemingly safe place is falling under a strange virus. “But I don’t know if it would be best for you to come with us right now.”

“It’s not for me…” You say in front of her, opening the back door that eventually extends into a forgotten, old living room, with just two small sofas and a wooden table in the center. But the daylight coming through the white curtain gives the place a warm touch, like an image from centuries ago, frozen in time, as if the world hadn't gone straight to hell. “My friend is sick and I don’t know how to help her.”

The others enter the room too, Bob and Tyreese sitting on the couches while Michonne paces around, and they all carry a strange mix of emotions under the promise of getting enough gasoline to go back home, but still under the shadow of what happened back at the college. You can read the discomfort on their faces, making you feel uncomfortable too. They seem estranged, and the possibility of getting help for your friend almost seems to slip through your fingers, like the sand on the beach you used to visit with Daryl.

“Ya and Sam live here?” Daryl stops beside you, looking at you as deeply as those days that now seem not so far away. “Is she okay? Are ya okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh before continuing, thinking back a bit.

"Yeah, kind of, I think. A few months ago an elderly woman found us in her store looking for supplies, and I guess she was either nice or naive but she invited us to eat because we didn't seem like bad people to her. Ellie lives here with her husband Mark, who is unfortunately quadriplegic, so Sam and I stayed with them all this time. They offered us food and I... security in what I can do."

“I saw that you can shoot well.” Michonne asks, approaching you.

“Ya kiddin’?” Daryl scoffs. “The first time we fought she threw a peach at me that landed exactly where she wanted. (Y/N) has a hell of an aim.”

For the first time and after the danger has passed, Michonne smiles.

“I wasn’t kidding when I told Daryl my aiming would help me if an apocalypse ever broke out…” You try to chuckle, but the attempt falls flat on a sigh. “Can you please take my friend with you? I don’t know what else to do for her, and I’m afraid that if she keeps this up, she’ll ask me to end her suffering at any moment.”

The new group falls into a heavy silence, debating internally whether doing so is a good idea.

“If we don’t, you won’t give us the gasoline?” Tyreese asks, eager to get back to his sister.

“Of course not.” But you shake your head, trying to explain yourself better. “Sorry. I mean; you can take the gasoline either way.”

Silently, the others share glances before voicing their opinions, but the absence of noise makes your hands shake and a strange warmth awaken in the pit of your empty stomach, running wild through your entire body, boiling like lava or a high feve, so in response, you push up the sleeves of your shirt to cool you down, forgetting for a second about your scars from your burns, revealing a secret you thought you wouldn’t have to share with anyone else.

Daryl spots them immediately, too wrapped up in you to miss them.

“The fuck happened to yer wrists?” His brow frowns in confusion and shock as he grabs one of your arms, lifting it up to observe the aftermath of a night of hell when you had to burn your skin to set yourself free. "Who did this to ya?"

But in a second, your body fills with anger when you hear that demanding tone spilling over his voice, so you yank your arm away.

“Fuck you, Dixon, I’m not your problem. So don’t ask me for explanations like I’m your responsibility.”

“Ya are ma fuckin’ responsibility.” He steps closer to you, so dangerously that it alerts the others.

But to their surprise, you chuckle humorlessly, and they're already getting the idea that you alone can handle Daryl Dixon.

“You're wrong, Daryl, I’m not yours at all, in any way.” Your gaze is as deep as your words, which fall on his chest at the memory of a relationship he ended. “Now, if you can take my friend, I’ll thank you infinitely, and if not, take the gasoline from the kitchen and please get out of here.”

Michonne’s chest falls when she exhales, but she gives a silent look to Daryl, who hasn’t stopped looking at you with frustration.

“Okay, we’ll take her with us. You can come too.”

You shake your head.

“No, thank you. I’m not leaving Ellie alone with Mark. But I have two walkie talkie, so you can take one and if Sam gets better, I’ll go get her. And if not…” Your chest tightens with the anxiety and uncertainty, the incessant fear of not being able to do more for her. “Just try to help her, please.”

When you feel the warning of the first tear behind your eyes, you tell them you will get the gasoline so that way you have an escape route, some comfort in solitude in case the worst happens. She’s your best friend, sister, your person, a rock you could hold on to when a storm fell upon your life, and the thought of losing her too in that cruel world takes your breath away, slowly killing you.

But when you take a few steps into the kitchen that now has yellowed walls, Daryl walks in behind you.

“Ya’re comin' with us.”

As you turn to him, you can’t help but hate that order in his deep voice, that command he used in his misguided attempt to protect you. However, you smile softly in appreciation that his concern for you remains intact.

“Daryl, thank you, really, but I don’t need you to worry about me. And I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“I don’ fuckin’ care.” He grunts, moving closer to you again. “I ain’t leavin’ ya alone in this place.”

You chuckle, just to prove to him that his words don’t have an effect on you.

“I’m not alone, I have guns and Aeris, too.”

Daryl narrows his eyes.

“That fuckin’ bird?”

“Hey, watch your mouth, sunshine…” You smirk. “Because that damn bird saved your ass today. If it weren't for her, everyone would have gone into the corridor with the walkers. Now… grab the gasoline you need and leave.”

You trie to leave, but stopping when Daryl's hand closes around your arm.

"Who did that to ya?"

His tone is softer this time, but you can hear the worry in his voice and see the sadness in his gaze that was never so expressive until you came into his life.

"Technically I did it to myself, but that person is no longer a problem."

Your gaze leaves him the moment you walk out the kitchen, cruelly, unable to continue seeing those deep eyes he always loved to gaze upon, because they could tell him without a single word everything he once meant to you. Daryl always thought you had probably been the only person capable of loving him with all his flaws, without ever being afraid of him, ever, but in the end, because Daryl knows he won’t change your mind, not with a personality as stubborn as his own, he takes the gasoline with the help of the others.

About half an hour later, the car hidden beneath some branches is ready to take them back home, but the feeling of leaving you alone again is suffocating for Daryl as he watches you from outside the car, the way you say goodbye to your friend, telling her she will be okay even though she’s practically unconscious, too weak to respond to your last show of affection before you pull away.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Michonne says, in a tone so warm it makes you smile slightly.

“No. Thank you. I hope you all get safely to… your home.”

With a final look filled with gratitude, but absent, you say goodbye to most everyone, stepping away from the group to return to the safety of your own small home. Silently, Daryl watches you go, but harboring that same desire that seems to be carved into fire in his chest, that desire to go after you now, like he wanted to do that night he broke up with you. The second you left that night, Daryl wanted to go after you to tell you that he was sorry, that he was lying, that he was too much of a coward to stop listening to those thoughts in his head that told him he would never be able to give you what you deserved, even though he didn't even know what that was.

But the moment you disappear around the corner of the building, Michonne approaches Daryl as the others enter the car.

“I know it’s not of my business but I have to ask: Who was (Y/N) in your life, Daryl?”

He lets out a grunt through clenched teeth, part of him hating you (although not seriously) for always being so stubborn.

“Ma goddamn woman.”

Michonne nods slowly, weighing his words because in her eyes, he always seemed too lonely to let any person get close to him like that. Daryl seemed too reluctant to let a person penetrate that armor he had around himself, that concrete wall that prevented full access to his insides. She also knows that Daryl is a good man, but it is almost impossible to believe that someone like him, who used to push others away from him so as not to get too attached, would be capable of showing that kind of affection towards someone.

But it’s fascinating at the same time.

“She kind of hates you.”

Daryl shakes his head before going to the car.

“Nah. That’s her special way of tellin’ ya she still loves me. Trust me, hatin' me is her love language.”

Michonne chuckles, following him. Daryl gets into the driver’s seat, closing his door as she does the same with the other.

“You’re going to come back for her, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah. Now that I found her I ain't lettin' her go again, even if I have to carry her stubborn body over ma shoulder to take her with me.”

Michonne smiles, loving the idea that Daryl could be so honest with his feelings even in front of all of them.

“So you do have a soft spot after all.”

Daryl grunts as he starts the car, driving away from the building to go back to the prison. Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow, but now that he found you, or that you had found him, Daryl wouldn't let you leave his side never again. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Hell, no.

@fluffy-dixon

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction

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kulchurstudio · 2 months ago

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i can hide a patch of white hair on the left of my scalp FROM your eyesight on the street ,,, i feel like thats a very honest thing to say and good for me to say it ….. i think that whole recreational substances thing just doesnt go for anyone more than 5-7 years at all AT ALL and that you shouldnt stretch it further .. i can sort of hide it by flexing my body like i was skating or vaping or something. Gonna fall out my back and buttocks on the body feel all the time now … i can put it in not visible spectrum schizophrenia FOR you

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vicorices · 2 months ago

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚ roller baby!

sfw content — roller!derby jinx au, tons of tension tho !

stuck with roller!derby jinx who skates to relief some tension since she’s under a lot lately, drawing crosses and lines over her cloudy tatt’s with pink, purple and blue paint before every game.

she’d gave a lot of speeches to her team since she decided their coach — silco, sucks at them. each time making sevika roll her eyes when she’s all over the changing room in a short purple skirt and a black crop top saying there’s no real competition to them, skating from one side to another as the rest is still changing.

her blue braided hair would fly as she skates in circles, swift movements, controlled pace, faster than sound itself as she scores and obscene amount of points — the drops are at the #1 spot for a reason, and she’s proud of being a valued member of her team since she usually don’t feel that way.

roller!derby jinx who’s so cocky in their final game, when she know she’s competing against pilties who cannot even take a punch decently, throwing an elbow to a orange-haired girl who began nosebleeding at the first couple of rounds.

“sorry sis, cannot let you win- family or not” she grins to her sister, pouting as she scores another set of point — she cannot believe out of all people vi’s competing with them, a group of stuck up girls who are too afraid to get their hands dirty.

and the game itself is nasty, the sport has always been like that. blood, sweat and tears as she avoids being thrown off the circuit, focused on making her team win before you came into the picture.

fuck’s sake where did you even came from? you’re like an avalanche in black, velvety rollerblades, easily passing her without even touching her, faster than her, faster than the whole public who’s looking and cheering this stupid nickname over and over — stardust.

who the fuck is this star girl who’s suddenly scoring a bunch of points? purple eye you must have recieved in a previous game, a good set of bruises jinx could see when the wind lift up your skirt, “you’re sure she’s a piltie? she dont seem like one,” she would ask sevika in the ten minute break they got in half time — “who is she? is it legal to have a new member? i haven’t seen her around, this star girl- she must be new.”

thing is, she’s trapped between being interested in you and absolutely despise you, can you blame her? you’re making her sister win and she’s mad at her since she leaved the team for her rich girlfriend, so it’s a problem when the second half of the game starts and she’s decided to win at whatever cost, tossing her interest aside as the whistle blows and she’s behind a sea of competitive girls.

you have the nerve to smirk at her, scanning her as you assume your possition, making jinx’s blood boil as she takes sev’s arm, using it to be pushed further and faster than you.

roller!derby jinx who’s not afraid to push you when you’re right next to her, side to side as you two fight for a couple of points. derby is a tough sport as you’re being shoved against the iron barriers of the oval track, yet you’re quick to resume your pace again, not daring to give up.

jinx admires your way of standing up, at least she does, cause sevika’s making you fall with a discrete punch in the guts and the air is robbed from your lungs, an effective way of get you off the way as you fall on your hands and knees and the public is roaring her nickname over and over again: powder, powder, powder.

roller!derby jinx who would usually be drinking their win after, specially after a championship, beer in hand as she talks with her friends all night; yet, that night out of all she finds herself sliding in the other’s team changing room when no one’s around, most of the girls already in the bar as she’s pulled by this random force she won’t dare to give a second thought.

“you were good out there, stargirl” she would say, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed over her chest as she notices how you’re tending your own wounds, distancing yourself from your teammates — “sorry for that. can’t blame a girl for winning huh?”

she’s been crushing on ekko for a while now, so this new magnetism she feels with you? it’s a foreign one as her gaze scans your fingers pressing the cold ice against your ribs. she thinks it’s the guilt of a dirty game when she’s helping you reach the ointment for the scratches on your knee, looking at you almost searching for permission to help as she sits in the bench close to you.

“don’t want you to say sorry” you admit as her manicured fingers touch something as bane as your kneecap, pure electricity as you notice the pink and blue nailpolish she uses— “a game’s a game. and you were great.”

roller!derby jinx who’s really making an effort here to hate you, see you as competition, someone she should despise being in her sister’s team, friends with her piltie girlfriend, yet your skin is so soft, your voice is so soothing- hell.

“jinx,” she introduces herself “haven’t see you around before.”

“yeah- i know who you are” you say looking up to her, letting her help you clean the dry blood of your scraped skin — “didn’t play for a while.”

roller!derby jinx who’s fucked up since that night in the changing rooms, cause she know you’ll be nothing but pure trouble, and man coming from her? it’s a lot to say.

let me know if you guys would like a pt.2 since this is literally a test to know if this would flop, also if you’d like to be tagged in the next part!

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daydreams-after-dark · 1 year ago

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After Dark Master List

all stories are nsfw / 18+

↠Full Fics ↞

Ot8 free use jail cell (incomplete) inspired by the police station skz code.

"What's Your Fanfic Fantasy" (Complete)

Pairing: fem reader + Chan + Jisung // This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

↠Han Jisung↞

Sub police officer Han x con artist fem reader

Hannie wants to play with your ass but you’ve never done this before.

Back in Ten: soft dom CEO Jisung wants you to wear a strap and fuck his ass, after an important function.

Jisung Kinks // after dark hard thoughts

If Han was as small as a barbie doll

fem!Hannie freaky roller skater girl and fem!hannie double pen at a party

Drabble: Can I watch you, Sungie?: posted on my main blog. You come home from work early to find Jisung on your bed fucking himself with a dildo.

↠Bangchan↞

Masterlist Scientist Chan (Chris) x science!subject reader - feat. other members along the way.

↠Minho↞

Male escort Lino x fem birthday girl reader.

Stop Lift Button your work colleague Minho has moved into your apartment. What happens when he jumps in the lift with you.

Star Student Part 1: Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader. You put on a show for your hot Professor while he’s trying to teach a class. (This is an adult classroom situation.) (5 min approx read)

Star Student Part 2: Pairing: professor/teacher Minho x adult female reader. Professor Minho makes you stay after class to fix the problem you caused.

Show Mommy: Lee Know dressed as Aunt Lina was doing things to you as you watched him on set. But what happens when you are invited to an after party and accidentally end up in Lee Know's room, and he's still in costume?

Billionaire Lee Minho and his Little Plaything You're at billionaire Lee Minho's extravagant party at some fancy historical manor, where unbeknownst to you he want to make you his "Plaything". Before you know what's happening you find yourself in a room with Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. Minho has plans for you but he doesn't know you can play games too. Pairing: Lee Know x fem reader, Changbin x fem reader, Hyunjin x fem reader. Word count: 8k approx

Submission: Lee Minho x fem reader. You're billionaire Lee Minho's "plaything", but tonight the tables have turned and he let's you dom him. Approx word count: 3.4k

Ask: Minho face f^cks male!reader 🫠 this was so fun to write 🥵

↠Minsung / Minsung x reader↞

Minsung Saves the Day Minsung x fem reader (5 minute read) You've just been fingered to the brink of orgasm by Chan and Hyunjin in the back of a car, whilst Minho and Seungmin sit up front. Now you've arrived at the club and there's only one thing on your mind.

Behind the Curtain: mean!Han x bratty!reader + helpful!Minho. You tease your boyfriend Han before a show and he's not happy. So he punishes you, leaves you in a needy mess, and sends Minho to look for you. What happens when Minho can't resist your needs?

Kidnapper Clowns: clown!jisung x fem reader + Minho (5 minute read). dark smut // reader is "kidnapped" and tied up in the basement of two men in clown masks. Everything is planned/consensual.

Pretty Little Kitties: Jisung x reader x Minho. Jisung buys you and him matching kitten ears and tails. Minho joins in.

The window across the street: Han x fem aunty Lina x fem reader.

Private Show v.1 minsung x fem!reader | version.1 - you're a dancer at an exclusive establishment where you perform for kpop idols in masks. Minho and Jisung are after a specific kind of private show from you.

Private Show v.2 similar to v.1 but Minho and Jisung are in masks and reader doesn’t know it’s them (or does she?). This version plays out differently to v.1 and is super unhinged.

Minho edges Han

bratty fem!reader, Minsung must punish you

Auntie Lina x Han x reader

↠3Racha↞

We’ll make it fit: 3Racha Chan x Changbin x reader w/han for 2secs. They want to use her like their little toy. Dp.

3 racha c^m dump: Han asks you to meet him in the corridor at the bar. Bartender Chan and Security Guard Changbin join in.

3racha free use hard thoughts 1/♾️

3racha free use hard thoughts 2/♾️

3racha free use hard thoughts 3/♾️

↠Other Members / Mixed pairings↞

Werewolf chan turns inside you

Massage Therapist Changbin

Good cop Han / Bad cop Minho

Dom Seungmin and Jeongin x fem reader

Who in skz likes anal? ask

Taken: Drabble - Ot8 x gn reader. You’re snatched after work by 8 sexy men and taken to an abandoned warehouse… exactly what you’d paid for.

Middle-aged neighbour Chan and his friends x fem!reader

Skz reaction to you wearing a butt plug

All Stops to Cumville Station ot8, but featuring Minho, Seungmin and Chan

If skz worked at an adult shop what would each member recommend?

Let Daddy Take Care of it chan x hyunjin x fem reader (5 min read) Fem!reader is horny on the way to the club. Chan and Hyunjin help her out with their fingers in the backseat of the car.

After Hours: Felix; personal assistant | You; Corporate Boss. You're a corporate boss, he is your personal assistant. You're his boss by day, but after hours his soft dom side gets you weak.

Sweet Sweet Punishment: Bratty Han convinces you to let him go down on you without permission from Chan and Lino. They punish you both in front of everyone when they get home. features ot8.

Little Deaths (posted on my main blog) ot8 x reader. You’re stranded at a mansion where 8 horny ghosts must pleasure you.

Fuckbois Jilix: thoughts on how they pick you up and take you home.

Fuckbois Jilix version 2

The Sunshine Princesses

Concept: Freeze: gangster boss fem reader x Chan x Hyunjin

Male reader x Han x Jeongin: you’re the meat in this delicious sandwich / dom top Han, Jeongin bottoms for the first time.

Thing dom chan likes to do to you (posted on my main blog)

Who in skz will share you (ask)

↠Fem!skz Universe↞

↪ Enter here

#daydreams-after-dark-masterlist

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suniverseastro · 2 years ago

Text

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATION #14

Mars in the 2nd house is very possessive

Moon Aquarius is easy to sympathize with those around, although they may have many bad qualities, they will often be ignored by people because of their support in the team. Some in this group when they don't like someone and hate openly can easily recognize their feelings, these people can play bad tricks like using crowds, councils to bully

Here are some of the positions that I don't like very much, doesn't mean they will all be the same and I hate everyone with this aspect, it just brings some difficulties and disadvantages, takes a lot of time time to recognize and transform it:

1. Moon Square/Opposite Pluto: often emotionally volatile and explosive, has difficulty controlling anger, may experience more bad luck with women

2. Moon square / Opposite Uranus: actually this is one of the most horrible corners for me because as far as I know and actually it means about their separation from the mother physically or mentally

3. Venus square/opposite Mars: causes sexual attraction but often changes partners too quickly and gets nowhere

4. Mars Libra: passive in problem solving. The house in this position plays an important role, like the one who moves the pieces tactically. I think it is necessary to add other angles to strengthen this position, especially Pluto to increase ambition and determination.

5. Venus Gemini: often emotional, easy to play emotional roller coaster with others, unpredictable, interesting, but for me this is not a very good position in love, they easily find it difficult. hard to find the right person

6. Moon square/Opposite Saturn: often encounters problems in childhood such as abandonment, working in a difficult, deprived environment, shouldering responsibility, loneliness; They have quite a lot of psychological damage, rarely share, confide, and find it difficult to open their hearts to others. When they learn to be less strict with themselves and learn to accept and love themselves, the door in their souls will lead them to the good things that are waiting for them on the other side of their hearts.

7. Venus square/opposite Uranus: feel less interested in wanting a relationship Some positions I like:

Moon trine/sextile Pluto: I once wished to have this aspect because it gives the ability to read other people's psyches and understand emotions deeply and they themselves also have a protective covering for their minds. mine

Sun trine/sextile Pluto: have their own privilege in society, they can be people whose image others consider as an authority and important figure, admire; Their passion is strong and they will try to do it

Mercury conjunct/ trine/ sextile Neptune: they have acumen, speciality and development in language, can know 2 or more languages, have artistic abilities, their voices are quite cute

Venus trine/sextile Mars: they easily radiate sexual attraction to other people (regardless of gender), which makes it easier for them to have relationships

Ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct Mercury: usually curious, cheerful, child-like eager people, they often have an active, playful appearance.

Ascendant trine/sextile/conjunct Sun: confident, shine, positive energy

Moon in Sagittarius/9th: very active, cheerful, likable, open and optimistic, they respect others and different cultures and religions

Mercury in Gemini: funny people, lots of topics to talk to, easy to talk to anyone, except people they don't like

Mercury conjunct/trine/sextile Pluto: their voice has charm, weight, usually straight to the point, analytical, inquisitive and rarely afraid of knowledge and reason

Moon sextile Venus: cute girls and boys, graceful words, pleasant, non-aggressive, cohesive and peaceful

(a position can't say who you are, everything will change, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse) try to take a deep breath and try to feel the peaceful moment in the present

Thank you everyone for inspiring me to write articles on this topic. Thank you for your love for me; love you all. Wishing you all good health, peace and luck ⭐

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transit-fag · 2 months ago

Note

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

#asks

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