#the damn thing doesn’t work and in looking up how to fix it I learn that they crap out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvergirl-866 · 5 hours ago

Text

something like love

part - 7

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 10.7k

c/w - language, substance use, smut

a/n - took me five days but here’s your long chapter!! i really hope this lives up to your expectations! as always lmk how u feel and live react plsss!!! (also, this is completely unedited and i wrote parts while high. as usual. i will come back to edit later 🙂‍↕️)

There are a lot of things you can learn about somebody in ten years. There are the basics, of course: Their favorite color, and whether it changes every few weeks. Their middle name, and whether they like it. Their childhood stuffed animal, and whether they keep it hidden in a closet.

Then, as you go from knowing each other for one month to one year, and one year to five, you learn other things. You learn about their relationship with intimacy. You learn about why they occasionally stare into space for minutes on end, mind somewhere far away even though they make such an effort to stay close to you. You learn how to ask the right questions in order to crack their shell just enough that they open up to you without breaking.

Azzi knows Paige like she’s a fact—solid, unchallengeable, honest.

But this morning, she doesn’t understand a single thing about her. And that’s not for lack of trying.

After their perfect day turned weird yesterday, Azzi had woken up on high alert. She’s so used to Paige being an open book that it makes her endlessly uneasy when she does strange, mysterious things like creating an ocean between them while they’re sleeping in the same bed.

Naturally, being hopelessly in love with Paige has gotten Azzi used to watching her. Analyzing her. Prodding her and testing her reactions.

So when they first woke up, she watched: Paige, naturally, was still sleeping. She had subconsciously moved toward Azzi in her sleep, but not by much. Her lips were pink and slightly parted, cheeks flushed with sleep, back rising and falling softly. The bedroom window was open in an attempt to fight off the summer heat, and birds were singing outside, waking with the sun—which rose in gentle orange and pink hues, shining through the sheer curtains, painting Paige’s skin and hair pastel. In that moment, Azzi really couldn’t blame herself for falling in love with her.

After Paige woke up, while they methodically went about their morning routines, she analyzed: the first thing she noticed was the silence; unusual, unsettling, and oh-so loud. Paige was never a morning person but she was a chatterbox through and through—she’d always wake up talking Azzi’s ear off about nonsense, and she’d do it drowsily, but she’d do it nonetheless.

The second thing she noticed was the way Paige refused to look her in the eye. Not even once, not even for a second. There was no sleepy smile when she woke up to find Azzi next to her, no silly faces while the two of them got dressed, no lidded, sleepy eye contact through the mirror while they brushed their teeth side-by-side.

And the third thing: Paige wouldn’t touch her. Not to brush against the small of her back while she moved past her into the bathroom. Not to pull her hair back for her as she did her makeup. Not even to fix her blouse when she mistakenly buttoned it wrong.

Now, the two of them are in the kitchen, alone—Paige’s siblings are still sleeping and her parents are both back at work, which is a blessing, honestly.

It’s time for Azzi to prod.

“Paige,” she says casually, the first thing they’ve said to each other all morning, “can you make me some coffee?”

Paige looks up from where she’d been on her phone, expression almost surprised at having been addressed. She looks as if she’s about to point to herself and say, “Who, me?”

Instead, she glances suspiciously between the coffee machine and where Azzi leans against the counter not four feet away from it. Azzi almost dares her to challenge her, to say something snarky like ‘Why don’t you get your own damn coffee?’

Paige may be acting weird, but Paige is Paige. And things may be changing in ways neither of them wants it to change but she would still do anything for Azzi. So, without a word, she gets up from her barstool and heads to the Keurig, sauntering all cool and level-headed like she’s not acting odd as hell right now.

It’s a little disappointing that Paige still hasn’t spoke, but not surprising. Sometimes she needs some extra help.

“So…” Azzi trails, waiting for Paige’s eyebrow raise and ‘So, what?’ back. It doesn’t come. Paige stares intensely at the coffee machine.

“How’d you sleep?” Azzi finally asks.

Paige starts rifling through the cabinets for a mug while the coffee starts up. Azzi can barely hear it when she says, “Alright,” but it still counts because it’s something. Two whole syllables.

“Any dreams?”

Is she imagining it? Or does Paige stiffen up at that?

No, she’s definitely not imagining it. Because when Paige turns to finally look at her—for the first time this morning, mind you—her eyes are wide and—is that a flush creeping over her cheeks? “Why you askin’ about my dreams? Did I sleep talk or sum’?”

Puzzled, Azzi blinks at her best friend, wondering why idle small talk would get such a reaction out of her. “Um, no? Just asking.”

Paige narrows her eyes at her, but when Azzi just stares back at her, perplexed, she relaxes and turns away. “Oh. Aight.”

“Well, I had a dream,” Azzi says. “We were characters in South Park.”

On any normal day, this would’ve had Paige interested and on the edge of her seat like that. But today, Paige just hums, kneeling down to pull sugar and vanilla syrup from a drawer.

“And you sounded like Eric and I sounded like Stan.”

Paige straightens up, heading to the fridge. “They sound the same to me.”

Azzi glares holes into the back of her best friend’s head. “And we were playing basketball. But we were all short and stuff, so the ball was, like, as big as we were. I still got a ton of shots on you, obviously.”

Paige turns around with cream in her hand, Azzi flashes a dazzling smile, dimples and all. Paige barely even glances her way.

She’s not even going to argue with that? She’s not going to laugh at the sheer stupidity of that silly dream? She’s not going to fondly roll her eyes at Azzi’s grin?

Azzi’s starting to think something more sinister is going on here. Maybe alien abduction.

“P?” she asks, almost meekly, a last-ditch effort.

Paige merely hums, beginning to make Azzi’s coffee exactly the way she likes it, and that warms her a little bit.

“Hey,” she says, stepping closer, leaning against the counter beside Paige. “You good?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies. But her voice is…shaky. Not quite like herself.

Beginning to get a little concerned now—not just for the entire trajectory of their relationship but for her—Azzi lays a hand on her shoulder, gently so as not to spook her, almost like she’s a timid dog. “You sure?”

Azzi studies Paige’s face carefully. She’s gone pale, except for the blush on her cheeks, which is now brilliantly (and adorably) pink.

Paige nods, but Azzi doesn’t buy that one bit, and now she’s wondering whether this is really about yesterday like she’d originally thought. Maybe this whole time she’s been so self-centered to think it was about her. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with her at all.

The thought is so relieving it nearly makes her knees buckle.

Almost gleefully, Azzi reaches up to touch Paige’s forehead, and then her cheeks. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”

“Azzi, I’m fine,” Paige insists, and she sounds so defensive that it has the opposite effect.

Sure of herself now, Azzi wraps her hands around the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her down so her best friend’s forehead is to her cheek—something Katie always did to her and her brothers when they were little. “I dunno, P. You feel kinda warm to me.”

“Shit,” Paige hisses, suddenly yanking herself from Azzi’s grasp, staring down at her hands. Azzi follows her gaze to find Paige has spilled a good amount of cream over the counter.

“Hey, it’s okay—“ Azzi begins, reaching for the roll of paper towels, but Paige holds up a hand to stop her.

“Azzi. For real. Just…listen, I need a sec, okay?” she’s still all wobbly, and her hands are shaking as she brings them up to rub at her jaw, eyes closed.

Surprised, Azzi rears back a few steps, putting distance between them. “P, what…?

“I’m fine,” Paige says, but it sounds like she’s on the verge of tears as she cups her own face with her palms and it goes against every instinct Azzi has but she begins to back away. Slowly, like she’s waiting for Paige to change her mind, for her to reach for Azzi and fall into her arms and tell her what the fuck is going on right now.

She doesn’t. And Azzi can only mutter, “I’ll be in the room,” before she’s out the kitchen, heading up the stairs and clutching at her stomach like she can somehow stop the anxiety boiling deep inside.

————————————————

An hour later, Paige is walking through the bedroom door with a jovial smile on her face.

Azzi startles when her best friend walks into the room, preparing to deal with this mood that seems to have overtaken her, and her jaw very nearly drops when she sees the expression on Paige’s face.

“Hey,” Paige says when she spots Azzi (who has been curled on the bed for the past hour, trying to stave off these new existential crises). “Watcha up to?”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even sit up. She just stares at this scarily bipolar form which has somehow taken the shape of her best friend.

“It’s too hot to be out today,” Paige goes on without waiting for an answer. She kneels down to rifle around in her suitcase. “So I was thinking the movies? Just me and you?”

And then she starts humming. Like, actually humming to herself.

Azzi has absolutely no idea how to approach this situation. She’s almost afraid to even move, as if Paige were a motion-activated bomb—because that’s kind of what it feels like right now.

“Yo,” Paige says at Azzi’s continued silence, standing up with a pair of shoes in hand. “You wanna go or not?”

Azzi wishes she could bask in it—the sudden normalcy, the way Paige is talking to her and looking her in the eye and no longer seeming on the brink of passing out. But it’s such a stark difference from this morning that all Azzi can do is wonder what happened in the past hour to cause such a severe change.

“Azzi,” Paige urges, and for some reason that’s what gets Azzi moving.

She sits up straight, staring Paige dead in the eye when she asks, “What is up with you?”

Paige doesn’t get defensive, and that tells her everything she needs to know. “Nothin’. Just wanna go watch a movie.”

Azzi doesn’t return her friend’s charming smile. “Don’t play, Paige.”

Paige has the audacity to look confused. “Huh?”

If she’s going to play dumb, that leaves Azzi no choice but to be direct. “I’m just wondering why you were acting bitchy to me all morning and now you’re walking in here, acting like nothing happened?”

“Oh, that,” Paige replies, but there’s nothing convincing about her clueless act. It’s obvious in the way she averts her eyes, crosses her arms. “I just didn’t feel good, like you said. But I took some medicine, so we’re up.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replies.

“Yeah.”

“So, you didn’t feel good. That’s it.”

“Yep,” Paige replies cheerfully, kneeling down to start putting her shoes on.

“And that’s why you couldn’t touch me, or talk to me. Or even, like, look at me.”

Paige stares down at her feet, fiddling with the laces, tying them slowly to put off the inevitable moment she’ll have to stand back up again. “I dunno. Didn’t notice I was doing that.”

“Paige,” Azzi says, and Paige must sense that she’s really serious now because she looks up, watching her swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “Please, just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Paige replies simply, standing with one shoe untied to sit by Azzi on the bed.

Her detachment, her false answers and carelessness, are so frustrating it almost makes Azzi want to cry. “If you’re mad at me about—what I said yesterday, at the lake, then just tell me. I don’t want things to be weird between us just because we’re not talking—“

“Whoa, hey, slow down,” Paige says, and the hand she places on Azzi’s knee is so comforting she really could cry at this point. “I’m not mad at you. Did you think that this whole time?”

“Obviously.” Azzi widens her eyes at her emphatically. “What else was I supposed to think, when you were acting all weird towards me?”

Paige frowns at that, looking genuinely troubled at the notion of Azzi’s internal conflict. “I’m not mad at you, ma, for real. I just—“ she sighs, taking her hand off Azzi’s knee to run over her face. “I couldn’t really sleep last night, my mind was going like a hundred miles per minute for some reason.”

“About what?” Azzi asks.

There’s that same reaction from earlier—the stiffness and the blush. Like she’s embarrassed, or maybe even guilty?

Seriously, what is that about?

“Oh, nothing,” Paige replies airily, waving her off despite her mildly visceral reaction to the question. “Just a buncha stuff. And then, well…” she trails off, glancing at Azzi to see if she’ll be able to get away with it. She’s met with a stern glare that clearly says don’t you dare close up on me again, and sighs before continuing. “I’ll be real, I did have some dreams last night, once I finally fell asleep. And they were—they kept waking me up, but every time I fell back asleep they’d just come back again.”

“Like, scary dreams?” Azzi asks, brows furrowed. Paige has occasionally had nightmares while they were together, but they always have her jerking around or talking in her sleep so much that it wakes Azzi, who will wake her best friend and speak softly to her of good, happy things in order to lull her back to sleep. It’s never affected Paige so badly that she was a completely different person when she woke up.

Azzi watches Paige’s throat bob as she swallows thickly before saying, “Something like that.”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know how to—doesn’t know where she stands right now, in this weird, unfamiliar territory they’ve stepped into.

Paige speaks for her, never good with lingering silences. “Hey, uh, a few of my cousins up here—they’re around our age, and they’re gonna be throwing this big party tomorrow. They invited us to go.”

Azzi hesitates. “They invited both of us?”

“They wanna meet you. Since you’re my…”

“Girlfriend,” Azzi finishes.

Paige nods slowly. “Right.”

“And you really wanna go? With me?” Azzi asks.

Paige scoots a little closer, lays her hand palm-up on Azzi’s leg. When Azzi takes it, instinctually, it’s like finding her footing again. “Don’t wanna go anywhere without you.”

One of these days, Azzi will learn her lesson. One of these days, she’ll straighten her spine and figure out how to tell Paige no, how to say what she really wants to say.

Today, though, is just like any other. That is to say, Azzi falls for pretty blue eyes and prettier words, and says what she knows Paige wants to hear: “Okay. Why not?”

Paige grins at her, and Azzi almost forgets this whole strange morning, their little argument yesterday, the kiss that preceded it.

Key word: Almost.

Because there’s this sinking feeling in her stomach that won’t quite let her forget.

————————————————

Getting ready for this party is turning out to be absolute hell.

“Azzi, just get ready at the hotel.”

“No, Paige.”

Paige sighs dramatically. While Azzi has spent the past thirty minutes stressing, carefully picking an outfit that will be cute, reasonable for the weather, and won’t wrinkle during the two-hour car ride to the next town over, Paige has been sitting peacefully on the bed, making unhelpful comments and showing Azzi TikToks every two minutes.

“At least do your makeup there. It’ll sweat off during the car ride.”

“I have a good setting spray.”

“Azziii, for real, I wanna get on the road,” Paige says, practically whining at this point.

Sighing, Azzi shakes her head, knowing she’s going to lose this argument no matter what. “Okay, fine. But still—my outfit.”

Paige, apparently finally deciding to be helpful, rolls off the bed and sits beside Azzi by her suitcase. “You got so many outfits to choose from.”

“None of them are working.”

“Just wear basketball shorts like me.”

Unfortunately, Azzi isn’t sure she’s masc enough to get away with basketball shorts, a sports bra, and an oversized button-up quite like Paige can. But Paige wouldn’t understand that.

“What about these jeans?” Azzi asks instead of answering Paige’s suggestion.

“Nah,” Paige says, “it’s s’posed to be hot tonight. Wear shorts.”

“Okay…” digging around, Azzi finds a little pair of shorts she isn’t really sure why she brought—she could never wear them around Paige’s family. With all the rips in the front, and the way it hugs her ass, it’s not exactly family-friendly. But for a party…

Spotting the way Azzi’s hand is lingering over the shorts, Paige grabs them up and holds them in front of her. She appraises them for a moment before putting them in Azzi’s lap. “These.”

“You think?” Azzi hesitates.

“Yup,” Paige replies simply. “Think they’re cute. And you won’t overheat.”

With some more help from Paige, Azzi finally ends up in an outfit that the two of them have deemed suitable for the occasion.

(“Are you sure it’s not too…slutty?” Azzi had asked, looking at herself in the mirror—Paige came up behind her and brushed her hands over her waist and said, “Nah, looks perfect on you,” and Azzi’s decision was made.)

Now, an hour later, only halfway through their mini road trip, Azzi highly regrets the tiny shorts and tinier top.

From the driver’s seat, Paige side-eyes her and smirks when she sees her wriggling around for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. “You all good?”

“These are up my butt,” Azzi complains, pulling at the hem of her shorts.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Paige!” Azzi’s top begins to slip and she yanks it up, frustrated. “This is uncomfortable.”

“I told you to get ready at the hotel.”

Azzi should’ve been prepared for the I told you so, but it still makes her mad and she crosses her arms, staring out the window with what she’s sure is a mean pout.

Paige reaches over to tug on one of Azzi’s braids. “You sulking over there?”

“No,” Azzi replies, even though she very much is.

There’s a moment of silence, and Azzi is beginning to think Paige is done with the conversation before she says, “Why don’t you just take ‘em off?”

Azzi can’t help but laugh a little at that. “You wish.”

“I’m serious,” Paige replies, and with a quick glance at her side-profile Azzi realizes she’s telling the truth.

“You really want me to strip in your car?” Azzi teases, and before, this is something Paige would’ve laughed at before playfully flirting back. But now, Paige’s eyes widen and dart over to her, and Azzi is maybe not completely teasing.

“Chill,” Paige replies simply, voice betraying nothing even though the blush on her cheeks says otherwise. “Just don’t wanna hear you complaining for the rest of the drive.”

Of course, Azzi is not going to take off her shorts. Things between her and Paige are already weird and, not to mention, she’s wearing a thong. It would be crazy. It would be inappropriate.

But these shorts are really tight. And they still have an hour to go. And maybe Paige would give her The Look, the one Azzi hates and doesn’t understand but is also coming to associate with those charged moments between them, the moments where things shift and change and it seems as if any minute one of them is going to surge forward and—

Slowly, Azzi reaches across herself, and unbuckles her seatbelt.

Paige’s breath hitches. “Watcha doing?”

Azzi hums, and her fingers move to her own stomach, letting them trail down playfully to the button of her jeans, watching Paige’s eyes go from her to the road and back. “Just taking your advice.”

“Oh,” Paige says.

Azzi pulls the zipper down.

The two of them have seen each other in various states of undress countless times before—last year, Paige even got so drunk that Azzi had to help her out of her clothes completely and into the shower. But Paige was laughing and rambling and tripping everywhere and Azzi’s sole focus was on making sure she didn’t slip and crack her head open on the shower tiles.

Azzi’s never given herself the opportunity to look the way she really wants to. And she’s been operating under the fact that she would never be looked at the way she wants to be, either.

But now, as she lifts her hips off the seat and wriggles out of these tight little shorts, Paige is looking. She’s looking so hard they might crash.

The shorts slide down her leg, dangle around one of her ankles. Azzi lifts her foot and delicately plucks it off. Tosses it into the backseat.

Paige’s hand twitches on the center console. Fingers splaying wide open like they need something to do.

Azzi has spent practically her whole life giving Paige whatever she wants, because that’s what you do when you’re in love with somebody, isn’t it? And so there’s really no thought to it when she takes Paige’s hand. Nothing tentative in the way she lifts their joint hands, pulls them into her lap. No hesitation when she presses Paige’s hand into her bare thigh.

Paige is staring firmly ahead now. The hand still on the wheel is fisted tight, knuckles bloodless. And when she mutters Azzi’s name, it’s quiet but unmistakable.

For the first time, knowing that Paige can see her in her peripheral vision, Azzi lets herself look. Lets herself study the flutter of her lashes, the slope of her nose, the pink of her lips. Her sharp jawline, her furrowed brows, her neck and collarbones. And then her eyes travel back up to Paige’s, admiring the blue shamelessly as she whispers, “You can touch me, Paige.”

Paige’s throat bobs. Her fingers twitch. And then, slowly but surely, they dance over Azzi’s skin. Azzi gasps softly when they brush the inside of her thigh, and that seems to encourage Paige because then her hand is traveling higher up, up to wear her shorts would’ve been covering, tips of her fingers getting so fucking close to where Azzi has wanted her for so long.

And then she stops. Straightens her shoulders and focuses more sternly on the road, but her hand stays firmly put before it squeezes just a little bit.

Azzi’s eyes flutter shut.

They may or may not spend the rest of the car ride just like that.

————————————————

Even before they step inside, Azzi can already tell how bumping this party is. Loud music blasts from behind the front door, and flashing LED lights shine through the curtains on the windows. For the first time, Azzi gets a little nervous—with parties, Paige usually finds some random people to branch off with while Azzi hangs out with whatever team members came with them. Now, with just the two of them, Azzi worries about being left in a corner with a red solo cup and a headache. The thought makes her turn to Paige.

Paige, mid-reach for the doorknob, pauses when she clocks Azzi’s anxious expression. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just—“ Azzi sighs, then clutches onto Paige’s arm, glancing nervously toward the front door and the party that lurks within. “Don’t leave me tonight, okay?”

Paige smiles softly, and Azzi thinks briefly that friends don’t look at each other this way. “I won’t, ma. Promise.”

And Azzi believes her.

When they finally get inside, Azzj counts on them being able to slip in unnoticed, considering how many people must be crammed into this house. But, to her surprise, they’ve barely even shut the door behind them before the foyer—and the open living room beyond—absolutely erupts. People were laughing and talking and singing before, but now there’s straight-up screaming as young adults crowd around the two of them, whooping and hollering and saying things like “Lil Paigey in da house!”

Paige laughs, waving people off as she reunites with old friends, and the crowd seems to be trying to separate them but Paige wraps her arms firmly around Azzi’s waist and doesn’t let go.

After a minute, the crowd calms down, letting Paige’s cousins come up and give her hugs, the three girls squealing (Azzi doesn’t think she’s ever seen Paige squeal before) as they gush about how much they missed each other and how good they look and Azzi almost misses it when one of them says, “Oh my god, hi! Cousin-in-law!” before she’s the one being attacked with hugs.

“I’m so happy we finally get to meet you!” One of them—Avery, Azzi thinks—says quite loudly in her ear.

The other one—Lauren—squeezes her so hard she almost lifts her off the ground. “You’re so pretty! Look at her, holy shit, you’re so pretty!”

After the initial shock, Azzi can’t help but laugh, the excitement from these two girls nothing if not contagious.

After a few seconds, Paige pulls them off her, gathering her right back into her side once she’s free. “Chill on her, we just got here!”

Standing beside Paige, and in front of these two girls, all three of which have matching smiles, blue eyes, and blonde hair, it’s sort of like seeing triple.

“Sorry, we’re just—we’ve been so excited to meet you,” Avery says, cheeks flushed as she grins warmly at her.

Lauren nods in agreement. “P has been gatekeeping you, for real!”

Azzi grins quizzically up at Paige, who shakes her head, thumb rubbing over Azzi’s waist. “Nah, y’all have her social media. I just didn’t wanna share my pictures of her.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, slapping Paige’s stomach with the back of her hand before turning to her cousins. “It’s really good to meet y’all, too.”

The two girls beam at her before reaching for her, each of them taking a hand and tugging.

Paige holds fast to her waist. “Hey, where y’all tryna take her?”

“Relax, we need to give her a grand tour!” Avery says. Azzi wouldn’t mind leaving Paige’s side just as long as she’s with these two girls, but Paige seems to have other opinions about it, if the way she’s relentlessly holding onto her says anything.

“I can come with you,” Paige protests.

“No, P, how are we gonna tell her your embarrassing stories if you’re around?” Lauren jokes, dramatically rolling her eyes.

Paige holds on even tighter at this, and Azzi sort of feels like a rope in a game of tug o’ war. “No way!”

“Paigeee,” Avery whines.

“Yo, for real, gimme my girlfriend back.”

Azzi nudges Paige with her elbow. “I’m good, P.”

Paige looks down at her incredulously. “What happened to, ‘Paige, don’t leave me, I’m sooo nervous’?” Paige asks, all whiny and flirty as she mocks her.

Azzi frowns. “That’s not how I sound!”

Finally, in her moment of distraction, Avery and Lauren manage to wrench Azzi out of Paige’s iron grip. “We’ll take good care of her, Paigey,” Avery assures, slinging her arm around Azzi’s shoulder. “Don’t even worry.”

Paige glares at the two of them, arm outstretched like she’s hoping Azzi will fall right into her, and she can’t lie, she’s more than tempted to.

But she also wants to hear those embarrassing stories her cousins were talking about.

“Go make her a drink or something,” Lauren calls over her shoulder as they whisk her away. “We’ll bring her back soon!”

Azzi sends a sheepish smile and wave her way, giggling when Paige flips her off. Maybe this night will be fun, after all.

————————————————

The tour only lasts around fifteen minutes, but by the time they’re finished, Azzi is missing Paige desperately. She thinks they may be getting a little too attached, but then, haven’t they always been?

When she finally spots Paige, man-spreading on a couch holding two cups, the relief only lasts for a second because then she notices that she is sitting next to a very pretty girl. A very pretty girl with dark skin and dark hair and a gold, glinting nose ring and a laugh that tinkles all the way across the room, even over the raucous noise.

“Oh, boy, look who found Paige,” Lauren grumbles beside Azzi.

Azzi looks over at her. “Who is that?”

“That’s Amariah,” Avery replies. “She grew up in Paige’s neighborhood.”

Amariah. The name rings a bell somewhere far back in Azzi’s memory.

“She’s had a huge crush on Paige for, like, ever,” Lauren goes on.

“And then, when Paige came up during Spring break in junior year, there was this party and they hooked up,” Avery says, and that’s when it clicks.

Amariah, of course. Azzi remembers the call she’d gotten that night, the way Paige’s cheeks were bright red as she told Azzi the whole story of how she’d slept with some random girl at a party. More than anything, Azzi remembers the jealousy, hot and heavy, that had burned in her stomach, and she remembers the way she’d ended the call early only to get no sleep that night—thinking of Paige with another girl.

“Is that so,” Azzi replies.

“Uh-huh,” Avery says. “I’d go get my girl if I were you.”

That’s exactly what she does.

Smiling gratefully at the two girls, Azzi begins making her way through the crowd, marching to the other end of the living room. Paige doesn’t even notice her walking their way, apparently too engrossed in whatever amazing thing Amariah has to talk about. It’s only when she’s a couple feet away that Paige looks up and sees her, and the way she beams almost makes up for everything. Almost.

“Hey, Az,” Paige says when she gets close enough to hear. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Azzi replies, unable to keep from smiling back at her best friend. “That my drink?”

“Uh-huh. Been waiting for you.” Paige hands Azzi’s drink to her, then pats her lap, and it takes Azzi a moment to realize that Paige wants her to sit there. Her body starts moving before her mind can catch up, sitting herself sideways on Paige’s lap, skin heating up when Paige’s arm finds its place around her waist. “My cousins bother you?”

Azzi shakes her head, wrapping an arm around Paige’s neck and looking down at her. Their faces are close, noses practically touching, and she can see every detail of Paige’s features, the makeup gracing her eyes and lips and cheeks. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her, and Paige looks like she might be leaning in…

A cough. Loud and intrusive, and it’s not even really a cough—it’s an “Ahem.”

Paige, apparently remembering herself, tears her eyes away from Azzi’s to look over at Amariah. “Oh, my bad, I forgot y’all have never met.”

“We haven’t,” Amariah says, not so much smiling as she is baring her teeth. “Who’s this, Paigey?”

“I’m Azzi,” she says before Paige can introduce her.

“You play at UConn, too, right?” Amariah asks, and Paige and Azzi both nod. “Didn’t know you were comin’ up with P this summer.”

It’s likely been at least a year since Paige saw this girl, and yet she’s calling her Paigey and P like they’re best friends. It makes her tug on Paige’s neck, pulling her head closer almost protectively.

“Couldn’t leave her,” Paige says, and this time, when Azzi looks down at her, Paige does kiss her. Just a peck on the lips, but it makes Azzi take two large swigs from what tastes like the straight vodka in her cup. “Right, baby?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums around the alcohol in her mouth.

“Cool,” Amariah says in a tone that implies she deems nothing cool about this. And even with Azzi so obviously laying her claim, and Paige so obviously all dopey for her, she still has the audacity to scoot a little closer, brushing her hand flirtatiously against Paige’s shoulder. “So, where were we? You were about to tell me that story, from school?”

“Oh, uh,” Paige gives Azzi one last long look before turning back to Amariah, “yeah. Yeah, sorry, lemme try to remember…”

She knows it’s silly, but Azzi is furious. At Amariah, for thinking she has even the slightest chance with Paige, and at Paige, for talking to this girl when she has Azzi literally in her lap.

Azzi finishes off the vodka in her cup, letting it burn her throat and warm her belly. And then, instead of asking Paige to set it on the side table for her, she shifts, swinging her leg over Paige’s and sitting up on her knees so that she’s straddling her, and she only catches Paige’s shocked expression before she’s leaning over and setting her cup down.

“You finished with that, babe?” she asks Paige, and Paige nods wordlessly, handing Azzi her empty cup. When Azzi leans over again, she knows her tits are fully in Paige’s face.

With both their hands free, Azzi settles back down, sitting fully on Paige, arms around her shoulders. Paige smiles a little wide-eyed up at her, hands resting low on her hips. But then she turns right back to Amariah and continues her story.

What the hell?

Azzi watches Paige’s side profile as she speaks, looking at her just like she looked at her in the car earlier—and the thought of the car, the heat between Azzi’s legs and Paige’s fingers so close to her, possesses her to lean forward and press her lips to Paige’s cheek.

Paige doesn’t respond, doesn’t even falter in her story-telling, but her thumbs start rubbing circles on Azzi’s hips.

So, Azzi kisses her again. And then another one higher on her cheekbone, to the spot beside her ear, and then she’s sort of just trailing slow, sensual kisses across Paige’s jawline, completely unsure how she got here but not about to stop anytime soon.

Paige’s hands slide to the small of her back, clasping behind her like she’s holding her in place. Azzi moves Paige’s hair—which is down, and Azzi loves when Paige wears her hair down—out of the way before placing a tentative, soft kiss on her neck.

Finally, Paige falters. Just a little, probably not even noticeable to Amariah—who is glaring daggers into the side of Azzi’s head, where she’s buried in Paige’s neck.

Gaining confidence from the way Paige’s hands behind rubbing her back, Azzi trails a hot path down the column of her throat and back up, practically licking her way up to Paige’s earlobe before she sucks on it, letting out the quietest, breathiest moan into Paige’s ear.

Paige gasps, but she doesn’t stop telling her stupid fucking story.

Her hands, however, find their way to Azzi’s ass.

Pleased with herself, Azzi takes Paige’s button-up and pushes it off her left shoulder, giving her so much access. She’s on a roll now, and Paige’s hands on her ass feel so good, voice lulling so good in her ears even though it’s another girl she’s talking to.

It’s practically feverish, the way she latches onto Paige’s shoulder. Scrapes her teeth against it, bites it, and then sucks. Hard.

Paige stiffens, squeezes her ass.

Azzi doesn’t pull away for what must be an entire minute. And when she does, she opens her eyes, studies the bright-red mark like she’s an artist and this is the best piece of her life. She knows that’ll be purple by tomorrow, and she’s too tipsy to care.

She goes back in and soothes her tongue over the spot, tasting the salt and perfume on Paige’s skin—god, how long has she wanted to taste Paige, just like this? Since she was fourteen? And now she’s finally doing it, and maybe she should suck another hickey into her neck, just for good measure, just to show this bitch Amariah who Paige really belongs to—

“Az,” Paige says into her ear.

Azzi shoots up, and her voice is raspy when she says, “Yeah?”

It’s then that she takes note of how flushed Paige is, how her chest is heaving with each breath she takes. She looks so good like this. Azzi can’t help but lean forward, nuzzling their noses together.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, squeezing her ass which does horrible things to her mind, “why don’t you get us another drink, mama?”

Azzi pouts at her. She does not want to leave this lap.

“I know,” Paige says even though she didn’t even say anything. “I just…” she leans forward until her mouth is beside Azzi’s ear, “can’t hold it together like this. I need a sec, okay?”

And that knowledge—that she has an affect on Paige—turns her mood right around. “Okay, okay.” Reluctantly, she slides off Paige’s lap, straightening out her shorts. “I’ll be right back.” And, somewhat smugly, she looks at Amariah, who is practically fuming at this point. “You want anything?”

“Nah,” Amariah says through gritted teeth. “I’m all good.”

“‘Kay,” Azzi says happily.

She’s not sure, but she swears she hears Paige say, “Thanks, baby,” on her way out.

Fire spreads low in her belly.

————————————————

Later, they find themselves on the floor, all over each other while a couple other girls sit with them. They’re using the drinks they’ve had as an excuse to be practically in each other’s laps, flirting and giggling like nobody’s business—even if they’re kind of making it everybody else’s business with how many people have clocked them tonight.

“Can y’all stop mating for a couple seconds?” Avery asks good-naturedly, elbowing Azzi.

Reluctantly, the two of them pull away from each other, but Paige’s arm stays slung around Azzi’s hips.

“Okay, y’all know what I wanna do?” says one of the girls. There’s only about five of them, all circled up and pressed together on the living room floor. “I wanna play truth or drink.”

“Fun!” Lauren says. “We should do it.”

“Okay, Paige.” This is another girl—Paige introduced them earlier but Azzi doesn’t remember her name. “What’s your body count?”

Paige glances over at Azzi, then uses her free hand to take a drink from the malibu they’ve been sharing.

“You keeping secrets from me?” Azzi teases, not nearly as bothered by this as she would be if she were sober.

Paige purses her lips, moving her head from side to side. “There mights been a few girls I never told you about.”

Azzi gasps, even though she can’t really bring herself to care about other girls—not when Paige is all over her like this. “You gotta tell me later!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige replies, cheeky little smile and all. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her.

“Love to see Paige isn’t in her hoe era anymore.” The last girl—Azzi actually remembers this one’s name, it’s Riley—laughs.

“It’s about time she wifed Azzi,” Lauren says. “With how damn much she talks about her.”

All the girls nod, and the one whose name Azzi can’t remember says, “Can we blame her, though? Look at her.”

And then they’re all turning to Azzi, cooing and giggling about how pretty she is and about how ‘if Paige didn’t lock you down I would’ve.’

Paige pulls Azzi into her side. “This one’s mine, y’all can get your own!”

Everybody laughs and the game continues. A couple rounds down, when everybody has gotten a chance to both spill secrets and drink a little bit, Azzi gets asked the most personal question thus far, from Avery: “Out of all the people you’ve slept with, who was the best at head?”

Everybody giggles and Azzi is tipsy and not in her right mind so, instead of making something up, she tells the truth, which is, “I’ve actually never gotten head before.”

Everybody stops laughing, looking at her like their jaws might hit the floor. And then Paige is staring at her wide-eyed and she remembers, they’re dating, and she knows enough to know that Paige is an eater, and if the two of them were actually together she’d probably be getting head three times a day.

So she covers it up with a laugh, waving them all off. “I’m kidding. I think you all know the answer to that,” she says, wishing more than anything she were telling the truth.

Paige kisses her cheek. But as somebody else gets asked a question, she’s still got her brows furrowed in Azzi’s direction, and Azzi wonders what she’s thinking so hard about.

For some unknown reason, she can’t wait to get to the hotel tonight.

—————————————————

The two of them don’t actually leave the party until close to one in the morning. They get far too caught up in beer pong, in dancing—in each other.

When they finally get to the hotel, they’re drunk, but not wasted. Thanks to Avery for making them have a glass of water in between each drink.

Of course, Azzi would rather not be wasted. It’s no fun. She loves this light, swaying feeling that comes with being the right amount of drunk.

But with the way Paige has been looking at her all night, she needs to be more inebriated.

It’s only a couple minutes since they arrived at their hotel room and Paige seems to be thinking the same thing. After she takes off her shoes, she flops face-first onto the bed and says, “Wanna be more drunk right now.”

Azzi giggles, walking towards her best friend and sitting cross-legged next to her. “Me too.”

Paige lifts her head. “Think they have champagne in here or sum?”

Azzi shakes her head.

Paige sits up and makes to get off the bed. “Nah, I’m sure they do—“

Azzi grabs Paige’s wrist. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, pulling Paige to sit beside her. “I just mean…we don’t need to drink more.”

Paige sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”

“No, silly.” Azzi giggles again. She is so in love with Paige. “I mean…” she reaches into her pocket. And then she pulls out the joint Lauren gifted her earlier. Pre-rolled and everything.

Paige’s eyes light up. “Did you…” she laughs, “steal that?”

“No!” Azzi replies, whacking Paige on the arm. “Nah, your cousin gave it to me. She’s so sweet, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige says, rolling off the bed and rummaging through her overnight bag.

Azzi lays back against the sheets. “Paigey?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing down there?”

“Nothin’, mama, just tryna find—yes!” Paige stands and Azzi leans up on her elbows to watch her crawl into bed. She’s holding something square and bright pink in one hand as she crawls rather seductively toward Azzi. “Lighter,” she explains when she gets close.

Azzi smiles widely, excitement bubbling in her belly.

“Hold it up,” Paige instructs, and Azzi does, bringing the joint to her lips, making dangerous eye contact as Paige lights it.

Azzi feels herself relax even before the first puff hits her system. Paige stays close and the smoke blows right into her face, making both of them laugh. Paige stares at her for a moment before saying, “Lemme go open the windows.”

While she’s gone, Azzi takes another two drags, and Paige narrows her eyes as she hops back on the bed. “Aight, slow down. Puff, puff, pass.”

Azzi smiles slyly as she passes the joint, watching Paige smoke it. Paige leans back on her free hand and Azzi lets her eyes rove over her covered shoulders, her sports bra, her stomach.

“Eyes up here,” Paige says, handing it back.

Azzi makes a face, too inebriated to care that she’s been caught.

“You wanna see ‘em?” Paige asks.

Azzi coughs a little on the smoke, “See what?”

Paige raises her eyebrows, then begins undoing her button-up before pushing it off her shoulders. And there, on her left shoulder, are three red marks, already darkening after just a couple hours.

“Huh,” Azzi says, taking another drag, “coulda sworn I only left one.”

Paige snatches the joint back. “Quit hogging this shit!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Azzi would usually roll her eyes, but that would entail taking her gaze from the hickeys on Paige’s skin and she’s not willing to do that for even a second.

“They’re brutal, huh?” Paige asks after two puffs.

Azzi shrugs, leaning up a little more on her elbows when she realizes she’s sliding down. The joint hovers near her lips as she says, “I’ve done worse.”

Something flares in Paige’s eyes at that. “To who?”

“Dunno.” When Paige raises her eyebrows, Azzi does it right back. “What? You’re not the only one who had a hoe era.”

“Didn’t hear too much about yours,” Paige mumbles, fumbling for her phone as Azzi takes a puff.

A moment later, R&B starts crooning through the room. “That’s because it’s private, P.”

“Mm-hmm.” The joint is short now as Paige takes another puff. “Were you being for real? Earlier?”

Azzi closed her eyes, leaning her head back. “About what?”

“That you’ve never gotten head.”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I was being for real.”

“Hm.” Paige nudges Azzi, and she opens her eyes for another smoke. “Why not?”

“Dunno.”

“There’s no way nobody’s wanted to before.”

“Yeah, it’s not that.” Azzi’s eyes are hooded now as she looks into Paige’s red ones. “I just…I say no, when they offer.”

“Because you don’t want it?”

“Because it’s scary.”

Paige frowns at the joint, which only has a drag left in it now. “What’s scary about it?”

“It’s so…personal.” Azzi shrugs. “I’ve never trusted a stranger enough for that.”

Paige nods, still staring at the blunt. Azzi doesn’t think she’s listening anymore. “That thing almost gone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Paige looks at her, then back at the joint. “Here, lay back.”

Azzi grins. “Why?”

“Bro, trust.”

Azzi does. So she lays back, watching as Paige lazily crawls on top of her, straddling her legs.

Azzi’s hands move on their own accord, pressing into Paige’s stomach just to feel the muscle there.

With her free hand, Paige moves her hand to Azzi’s chin. “Open your mouth, mama.”

There’s smoke in the air, pressure between her legs. Azzi squirms to try to relieve it.

“Az,” Paige says, and Azzi’s eyes snap to her at the stern tone. “Open.”

Azzi obeys without hesitating, and she’s only a little surprised when Paige puts her thumb in her mouth, humming a little.

She doesn’t even need to be told before she closes her mouth around it and sucks.

Paige sighs, blunt damn near about to go out as she rocks her hips up against Azzi’s crotch just slightly. “So good for me, hm?”

Azzi nods, trying her best to keep her eyes open as she laves her tongue around Paige’s thumb. They hold eye contact for another moment before Paige remembers the joint and takes the last pull.

Azzi feels a little betrayed, thinking this was just a trick to get the last smoke, but then Paige is leaning down, pulling her thumb out and using it instead to hold her mouth open, and then she’s pressing their lips together, shotgunning the smoke directly into Azzi’s lungs.

It’s the easiest drag Azzi’s ever taken.

Azzi is only sort of aware that Paige doesn’t pull away once Azzi inhales. She’s only sort of aware that Paige’s tongue is taking advantage of her open mouth, licking into her, letting Azzi’s teeth graze over it while they kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy.

Azzi’s heart races when Paige’s hands begin to wander, feeling them go from her throat to her shoulders to her tits, where they hover.

“You good?” Paige mumbles against her. Azzi nods.

Paige squeezes her tits, fisting them up and then brushing her thumbs against her nipples, hard underneath her thin shirt and bra.

“Love your tits,” Paige mumbles, pulling away to kiss down her neck, reminiscent of their moment at the party earlier.

“Yeah?” Azzi breathes.

“Yeah, fuck.” Paige’s breath is hot over Azzi’s neck and she tilts her head to the side, moving her braids out of the way.

“Can’t believe what you pulled tonight,” Paige says, leaning down to nip at Azzi’s shoulders.

“On the couch?” Azzi asks. She can’t help but grin thinking about it.

“You got me all worked up in front of everyone,” Paige’s hands move down to Azzi’s stomach, playing with her belly piercing while she sucks hard at the place she just bit.

“Mm,” Azzi says, closing her eyes and letting the memory, paired with the feeling of Paige’s hands and lips, overtake her. “Couldn’t help it. You were talkin’ to that girl.”

“Yeah, fuck—so needy when you’re jealous, huh?” Paige asks, kissing at Azzi’s cleavage. “That’s so hot.”

“You’re so hot,” Azzi breathes. Under normal circumstances, she’d never boost her best friend’s already huge ego like this. But this is the farthest thing from normal circumstances.

Paige smirks against her skin, the cocky bastard. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Shut up,” Azzi responds, gasping when Paige sucks a mark into the top of her breast.

“This outfit—so fuckin’ slutty,” she says, biting at the sensitive mark she just made.

“You picked it,” Azzi reminds Paige, holding onto her shoulders in an attempt to ground herself.

“I changed my mind. Don’t want anybody to look at you, ever fuckin’ again.”

Azzi laughs breathily at this. “Want me all to yourself?”

Paige lifts her head up to meet her lips again, her arms wrapping around Azzi’s back and arching her off the bed, pulling her close. “You know I do,” she says, pulling back from the kiss to look at Azzi with something like reverence. “All mine.”

Azzi isn’t. All hers, that is. Not really. Not even now. Not knowing that all of this is pretend.

But, maybe Azzi has been all Paige’s since the day they met. Maybe a piece of her heart escaped her own chest and made a home happily in Paige’s, and maybe it will be there forever.

So she nods. “All yours, P.”

Paige smiles so, so big at her, and when they kiss again they’re both giggling, not even really kissing at this point.

“Wait, Paige,” Azzi laughs as Paige’s hand moves to her ass, “what’re we doing?”

“Kissing,” Paige replies.

“Duh, I knew that, genius,” Azzi says, flicking Paige’s forehead, which makes both of them dissolve into giggles again.

“But, seriously!” Azzi continues once she’s gathered herself. “P, you’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Paige says, nuzzling their noses together.

“Do you think it’s—like, okay? That we’re doing this?”

Paige licks her lips, pressing another kiss to Azzi’s. “We can say…we’re just practicing. We said we’d practice, remember?”

Azzi nods, remembering that conversation that feels so long ago now. “We did.”

“So, this is us practicing.” Paige kisses her again, “And it has nothing—“ another kiss, “to do with the fact like I love—“ yet another one, “kissing you.”

Azzi laughs, squirming away. “Paige!”

“Hmm,” Paige responds, eyes wandering down Azzi’s body.

“Hey,” Paige says after a moment, “do you trust me?”

Azzi brushes a strand of hair out of Paige’s face before cupping her cheek, smiling when Paige leans into her. “More than anyone.”

“So…” Paige smiles deviously, ducking down to press more kisses into the tops of Azzi’s breasts, “would you let me go down on you?”

Azzi laughs at the pure absurdity of the question. “P, don’t play like that.”

“I’m being so deadass,” Paige says, and when Azzi looks down, Paige is already looking at her. There’s no mirth in her tone, in her eyes.

Azzi’s stomach tumbles. “…Seriously?”

Paige nods.

“You…” Azzi furrows her brows, “want to?”

Paige leans up, kisses her tenderly on the lips. “You have no fucking idea.”

That is new information. New and insane and something she will work through tomorrow, when she’s sober.

Right now, all she can think of is the ache that’s been between her legs all night. And the way Paige could help her with it.

“Please,” Paige mutters against her lips, “wanna make you feel so good, baby.”

Azzi looks at her best friend. Her swollen lips, the hickies on her shoulder, her tousled hair.

And she says, “Okay.”

Paige’s eyes light up, and she wastes no time clarifying. Her hands go straight to Azzi’s top, making quick eye contact and pulling it off when Azzi smiles at her.

“Fuck,” Paige says, staring at Azzi’s tits through her lacy bra.

Azzi watches her with amusement, running her hands through Paige’s hair. “You’re no better than a man.”

“I’m not,” Paige agrees, leaning down to litter kisses over all the newly exposed skin. Feeling her lips over her warm skin is good, but it’s not…enough.

“Paige, can you…”

Paige’s eyes dart up to her, searching her face. “You want me to?”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige’s hands move up from her lower back to her bra clasp, and Azzi lifts slightly off the bed to make it easier. Paige makes quick work of it and then she’s sliding that down her shoulders, throwing it across the room like it’s offended her.

Azzi’s hazy as fuck, high and floaty and carefree, but when Paige looks down at Azzi and stares, everything suddenly feels too scary, too vulnerable. She moves to cover herself up, but Paige catches her wrists, pressing a kiss against one of them, eyes darting back to Azzi’s with a comforting smile. “You okay?”

Azzi nods, then shakes her head, then squeezes her eyes shut, embarrassed. “You’re just—looking at me.”

“I am,” Paige says, and Azzi hates the way she sounds slightly amused. “Az, look at me, for real.”

Reluctantly, Azzi does, and Paige’s eyes are all red and hooded and the smile on her face and dopey and she looks faded as hell, but this is still her best friend. The one who knows her, who sees her—who is seeing her like this, right now—and who still continues to be her best friend. To love her.

“I’ll stop looking, if you want,” Paige murmurs, leaning down to brush her lips against Azzi’s ear. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?”

The ache between her legs is nearly painful at this point. Truthfully, Azzi shakes her head.

“You look good, Az,” Paige responds, pulling away and leaning back down to her tits. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

She looks up through her lashes as she leans down and suckles a nipple into her mouth.

Azzi sighs at the first real contact of the night, hands fisting Paige’s hair to pull her impossibly closer, hips bucking up on their own accord.

Paige holds her down, mumbling at her to be patient while she trails kisses over to her other tit, licking around it and flicking her tongue over her nipple before she sucks a mark into the skin just beside it.

“Paige,” Azzi gasps, cradling her best friend’s head close. “P, feels so good, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” Paige asks, grazing her teeth over Azzi’s sensitive nipple. Azzi keens, hips fighting against Paige to reach up, looking for any type of friction. It makes make chuckle against Azzi’s skin. “She wants me so bad, huh?”

“Don’t refer to it as she,” Azzi giggles, and Paige laughs, too.

“I’ll say whatever I wanna say,” Paige replies, laughing a little as her kisses stray further down Azzi’s chest, head bobbing a little to the music in the background while she kisses her languidly.

Azzi smiles down at the top of her head. “This is so crazy.”

“What?” Paige licks around Azzi’s belly piercing, not stopping her when she bucks up this time. “That I’m bouta go down on you?”

Azzi nods, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “Yeah. Isn’t it crazy?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, sucking a mark into Azzi’s abs. “Knew I’d do this someday, though.”

Azzi pushes her shoulder playfully. “You did not.”

“Did too.” She smile devilishly, wiggling her eyebrows while she kisses around the mark she’s made. “You couldn’t resist me if you tried.”

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes.

“Nah,” Paige replies, fingers moving to the button of her jean shorts and fumbling with it. “And you better fix your attitude.”

“What, before you fix it for me?” Azzi asks, lifting her hips to help Paige pull the shorts down.

“Careful,” Paige responds, throwing the shorts somewhere across the room. “Gonna fuck it outta you.”

Azzi nearly whines at the mere thought, and then Paige spreads her legs open and places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thigh, and she really does whine.

Paige bites the soft flesh there, soothing her hands up Azzi’s stomach as she does so.

Azzi’s head falls back once again, because she worried if she keeps looking at Paige she’ll come just from this.

“Mm,” Paige hums into her thigh, licking a long stripe up to where she needs her, tongue stopping just shy of her core. “Watchu want, baby? Want me to eat this pussy?”

Azzi’s hips cant up at the words, a breathy moan escaping her lips. “Fuck, P. Yes, shit, want you so bad.”

“Know you do,” Paige coos, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s cunt, clothed only in her thong. “So fuckin’ sexy.”

Azzi swears she’s actually floating at this point, levitating off the bed from Paige’s words, her touch, which has gotta be magic.

“Take them—off,” Azzi insists, hands going to the waistband of her panties to do it herself, but Paige stops her.

“I gotchu,” she mutters, kissing down her thighs while she pulls the thong down Azzi’s leg, and it soon joins the rest of her clothes on the hotel room floor.

She sits back on her knees, hands rubbing Azzi’s thighs as she admires her, all spread out just for her.

And then she bends down and presses the flat of her tongue against Azzi’s dripping cunt.

“Fuck!” Azzi cries out, the sensation against her pussy unfamiliar and sort of odd and so, so good.

Paige licks up her one more time, gathering her wetness before she separates her folds with her fingers and sucks her clit into her mouth, eliciting a surprised gasp from Azzi.

“Good?” she mumbles, pulling back just enough to look up at her.

Azzi nods, pushing her head down urgently. “Uh-huh, just keep going, baby.”

Paige smirks, looping her arm around Azzi’s thighs and pulling her closer, Azzi gasping as she’s jerked forward. She gets back to it, kitten-licking Azzi’s cunt, eyes closed as she tastes her, and then she opens them and groans. “Fuck, Az. Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

A flush settles over Azzi’s entire body at the words, goosebumps popping up over her bare skin even though she’s the farthest thing from cold.

Paige lays one of her hands flat against Azzi’s pelvis, using her pointer finger and thumb to keep her spread open while she places filthy, open-mouthed kisses over her cunt, tongue dipping into her like it did her mouth while they were making out. Azzi props herself up on her elbows, chest heaving, wanting to watch. Paige opens her eyes and catches sight of her—braids tossed over one shoulder, tits rising and falling, abs clenching against the pleasure in the core—and groans, sending vibrations straight through Azzi’s pussy.

Paige’s eyes stay open, all hooded and sexy, as she moves her head down and finally dips her tongue inside Azzi’s entrance, pulling a high-pitched whine from her.

Something flashes in Paige’s eyes and Azzi isn’t really sure what happens, but the next thing she knows Paige is burying her entire face in her cunt, tongue fucking up inside of her so good, and Azzi’s head falls back as she lets out a moan that’s downright pornographic. “Oh, P, feels so good—gonna come, ‘m so close.”

Paige only nods, doubling her efforts and moving her head back and forth, pulling her tongue out to lick repeatedly from her hole to her clit, creating a rhythm that’s absolutely deadly, and then Azzi’s legs are shaking violently and her thighs clamp around Paige’s head, and Paige sucks her clit into her mouth and shakes her head, and Azzi practically screams Paige’s name as she comes hard.

Paige eats her through it, slowing down but not stopping, Azzi falling back against the sheets, unable to hold herself up anymore.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles into her pussy, and when Azzi tilts her head she finds Paige’s mouth and chin shiny with her own slick. “So pretty, mama. Look at you,” she kisses against Azzi’s hole, “comin’ all over my face like that.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, reaching down to push Paige’s head away from her overstimulated cunt. Paige doesn’t budge, kissing up to her twitching clit, causing Azzi to jerk. “Baby, it’s too much.”

Paige’s tongue comes back out, licking delicately at her entrance. “Please, Az. One more.”

Azzi shakes her head, holding onto Paige’s hair, trying to clamp her thighs shut. “I can’t.”

“Yeah you can,” Paige murmurs against her, nose nuzzling her clit while she tongues her entrance again. “Be such a good girl for me and take it, huh?”

Paige holds Azzi’s thighs firmly open, and Azzi is already dripping again, so that’s that.

Paige digs back in, slurping at Azzi’s impossibly wet cunt, eating her like she’s a woman starved. Azzi is still so sensitive from the last one and it almost hurts when Paige suckles her clit, but it also makes her whine, hips lifting off the bed to hump against Paige’s face.

Paige moans into her, teeth grazing ever-so-slightly against her engorged clit, and that does it—with a weak cry, blonde hair fisted in her hands, Azzi comes for the second time, hips immediately trying to get away as Paige works her through it.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Paige crawls back up Azzi’s body, smiling proudly. “Did so good, baby,” she coos, kissing Azzi’s cheek before collapsing next to her, pulling her into her side.

Azzi lets herself be held, tracing her fingers gently over the skin of Paige’s stomach. “You’re good at that.”

“I know, mama,” Paige chuckles.

“Hey…” Azzi presses her hand against Paige’s stomach and lifts herself up so they’re face-to-face, “Paigey, I wanna do you, too.”

Paige stares at her, then shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good, baby.”

“Please?” Azzi pouts. It’s totally unfair that she’s laying her, naked and spent, while Paige is still fully clothed.

“We gotta go to sleep, it’s getting late,” Paige replies, pulling Azzi back down.

“Why can’t I?” Azzi pries, laying her head on Paige’s chest. “I’d be good, I promise.”

“I know you would,” Paige replies, and she sounds like she means it. “I just…it’s okay. Really.”

Azzi doesn’t argue any more, because Paige is tracing soothing shapes over her back, and slowly but surely she’s being lulled to sleep.

But she does wonder, vaguely, if she will ever get the chance to do this again. And, more pressingly—what this means for them.

—————————————————

The next morning, the first thing Azzi does when she wakes is reach blindly across the bed for something warm and solid and snuggly with the name Paige.

Her hands fist cold sheets, and her eyes shoot open.

“P?” she calls, listening for sound in the bathroom. No answer.

Azzi looks down at herself, naked and bruised from the waist down.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Paige,” Azzi tries again, rolling out of bed and reaching for her phone. No messages. No note on the bedside table.

Pulling the sheet up to cover herself—even though nobody’s around—she navigates to Paige’s contact and constructs a message:

Hey, where’d you go?

She waits a few minutes for the answer, but when it comes, it’s wholly disappointing:

Went for a run. Be back by eleven.

The period at the end is all too telling.

Paige fucked her last night. And then left her to wake up cold and alone in the morning.

There’s nothing good about this.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101

also lmk if yall want the songs i listened to while writing *that* scene 😼

#paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #fake dating #the people's princess #wlw smut #paige bueckers smut #pazzi smut #azzi fudd smut

101 notes · View notes

whereispearlescentmoon · 2 days ago

Text

Wild Life Pearl POV Live Reaction

Ooooo super powers!!

Sick ass guitar riff!

SHE CAN LAUNCH SUPER HIGH IN THE AIR?? I do wonder if she would be taking fall damage. Not that I want to risk it.

Impulse can teleport? CLEO SUMMONS ZOMBIES!! SKIZZ AND MUMBO ARE BACK!!! BDUBS CAN SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT! BIGB GETS CREAKINGS?!?

Invisible Jimmy?

Scott can become random animals!!! Perfect for subterfuge :)

Ghoul 1 and Ghoul 2!

Oh I just realized Pearl can leap super high. And she has a mace. And she doesn’t take fall damage from it! Hell yeah.

Ooo I’m gonna watch Cleo’s pov after this to see what convo with mumbo and Skizz.

Speedy boy Tango! Ooo Etho and Pearl have the same power.

They were slain? And she can bring them back every five minutes? Ah beautiful necromancy. DID CLEO DIRECT THEM TO MAKE FUN OF GRIAN?? AHSIWHWJAKHSJA

Bdubs can slow time? Makes sense for clock boy lol.

So Gem can speak to the dead? NO SHE CAN ASTRAL PROJECT?? SO SHE CAN GO IN SPECTATOR MODE??

Oh we’re friends with Ren now? Beautiful. Just like Last Life.

RIP Scar.

“Gem, I know you’re looking at me” Jeez Louise Pearl. And she breaks her mace right after. A beautiful wet cat move. Those aspiring wet cats can truly learn from her.

Ooo Impulse can swap places with people.

GRIAN CAN BORROW POWERS?? Watcher ass activities. SHE CAN FLY?

Oh does Tango freeze water when he runs on it?

Trap time! And Tanguini is here! Wait that’s how calibrated skulk sensors work?

And another failed trap….. Pearl has failed to kill Gem again… my beautiful pathetic wet cat.

Love their beautiful cane tower now has cherries.

Cleo ordered them to go kill Grian! I somehow doubt this will succeed.

Ren CAN BE OTHER PEOPLES SKIN???

MUMBO GOT THE KILL! W FOR CLEO AND MUMBO IN MY BOOK!

Oooo Scott can choose a mob if he clicks on it!

I am shocked that BigB’s face remains unburnt down.

Ooo Bdubs killed by Scar.

I need fanart of Pearl’s cute hat. HOW DID SHE GET POISONED?

“I did tell you not to fix it. I said don’t bother man” Yes Pearl I know and the way you said it made me go actually insane.

SCOTT ACTUALLY GOT THE KILL ON GEM! GGGG WIN.

Cleo died to a creeper. GGGG loss.

“Hey! My eyes yellow! Can’t be stealing my eyeball”

“This is my skin from last season! You can’t *incomprehensible*!”

“I mean what’s hilarious is you’ve gone for different eyes. So you two have basically just shared contact lenses,”

“This is the eye I lost in the portal that you didn’t remember.”

“Oh sorry. Guess it wasn’t important enough to remember” DAMN PEARL IS GETTING SASSY WITH GEM TODAY LOL

Skizz wants to talk to Impulse privately?

Glad to hear that while Skizz struggles, Mumbo has been a great minion for Cleo. Cleo once again picks a favorite son.

“Minions are to be seen not heard” HAKAHWIANAB Scott I love you

Ooooh wait. That’s why Pearl said cockroaches. Because Skizz and Mumbo can’t die.

And the only thing it killed was Mumbo. GGGG loss.

JUST LISTEN TO PEARL THEY CANT RUN FROM END CRYSTALS!

YEAH THEY GOT REN! GGGG WIN!

Not Pearl pulling out the creeper eggs lol.

Oooo Martyn’s proxy chat is way turned up.

Bdubs on red! BDUBS SHOUTING AND CATCHPHRASE ANS MISSING LOL. Martyn on red! Scott on yellow!

Gem was getting boring because she wouldn’t stop complaining about how Scott and Impulse killed her? And how much better she is than their team? Guess Pearl can stop worrying about seeming obsessed lol. Seems the GGGG live in Gem’s mind rent free.

Oh never mind. The cockroach spoiler was about Tango! And how they keep failing to kill him because he’s so fast! That makes sense!

“They’re trying to get everyone off green and little do they know, you’re technically green as long as you use that, right?”

“Right, yeah,”

“A secret green. Like you got so much potential. I swear like, you better win the series, mate,” Where have I heard this before *flashbacks to Pearl and Bdubs in Secret Life*

“I’m trying Pearl.”

“You have a big advantage.”

“I’m trying but this whole lack of being able to kill people isn’t boding well for us is it?”

“No dude. I can’t believe how much I’m sucking this season. I suck so bad.” It’s okay your pathetic wet cat nature is charming.

“I cannot get a kill to save my life.” Yours too buddy.

Joel got hoppies!

Are we literally all meeting up to kill Tango? No wonder Pearl called him a cockroach.

Aaaaand Gem killed Mumbo.

This is actually super epic for tango. The whole server is failing to kill him!

GGGG has taken down Tango and Joel! Two wins!

Omg Jimmy tried to kill Pearl. Congrats to Jay for a single Pearl and Jimmy interaction where Pearl didn’t even see him. I’m sorry.

Cleo is scared of Gem and Pearl just isn’t lol.

“Oh that’s so weird to see me like that. Is that how annoying I look?” Ur not annoying :( your skin looks really cool.

Tango on red!

Pearl! That’s somehow significantly nastier than calling them eyes.

BYE BYE MARTYN!

Oh no Pearl and Scott :( WAIT HI SCARLET PEARL!!! HI!!! HI!!

She commented on the red hoodie! She noticed their skins match!

Ren joined them? We have… six Gs at this point?

End of session! I see why Martyn was being super cryptic when someone asked how the session went. I think next session will probably be the last given how much of the server is on red, and that’s there’s no greens left to get lives back. Unless you count Impulse, I guess.

My final thoughts on the wild card are that it’s super fun! I love that they all got their own unique power, especially because some of the powers seem to be themed to them specifically like Cleo’s zombies and Bdubs having time manipulation!

#pearlescentmoon #wild life SMP #life series spoilers

26 notes · View notes

lucedilunax · 2 days ago

Text

prompt list

hello there! i thought that cool idea is to make a prompt list with dialogues to put into blurbs

feel free to request by using the emoji that is signed to every genre and number, you can mix the themes as you like and throw your own ideas of how you want to see the blurb!

i can write for most of the players, i'm not picky in that field haha

ps: i'm not doing smut for players born in 2005 and younger because i don't feel comfortable with that

i'll happily write for you and my inbox is always open for requests🩷

PROMPT LIST - WORK

FLUFF 🎀

“I’m not going anywhere”

“I came as soon as I heard”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today”

“God, you always made me blush so damn much”

“You remembered”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen”

“You ramble and it’s adorable”

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one”

“This reminded me of you”

“Darling, I love you but please step out of the kitchen”

“I made this for you”

“You won’t get rid of me so easily”

“It looks good on you”

“You learned to cook my favorite meal?”

ANGST 🎭

“You’re lying to me again”

“Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

“Don’t you dare to walk away”

“I miss the old you”

“You threw three years out of window”

“Sorry doesn’t fix anything”

“Please don’t make me choose”

“Look me in the eyes and repeat what you just said”

“What happened to all of our promises?”

“Don’t tell me to calm down”

“Was that part of the bet?”

“Call me when you figure it out”

“I dropped everything to be with you”

“Stay away from me”

“I guess that’s just how little I meant for you”

SMUT 🫦

“Don’t make me take you home and punish”

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt”

“Shut up and take it”

“Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago”

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”

“Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we take it off?”

“Your hand feels much better than my own”

“As soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you ever dreamed of”

“Who would have thought that this is something that you’re into?”

“I want to ruin you”

“I have seen you naked before”

“Who knew that you’re hiding such a dirty mind”

“It’s so hot when you talk like that”

“Swallow it. All of it”

“Don’t be gentle with me. I like it when you’re rough”

GENERAL 🧸

“Do you regret it?”

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“I’ve never seen you that mad before”

“What did you just say?”

“I can hear you crying, let me help”

“Am I not good enough?”

“Look at me”

“I let you down”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Is that a threat?”

“What happened to your face?”

“You flinched”

“Come back to bed, please”

“It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

#v' prompt list #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #john marino x reader #auston matthews x reader #jamie drysdale x reader #juraj slafkovsky x reader #matt rempe x reader #adam fantilli x reader #cole caufield x reader #trevor zegras x reader

22 notes · View notes

bethlammen · 2 months ago

Text

Tag rant

#I’m so frustrated #it feels like all electronics are expensive pieces of trash #I buy an Apple Pencil to try with my tablet #the damn thing doesn’t work and in looking up how to fix it I learn that they crap out #if you don’t keep them on a charger almost constantly when not in use because the damn thing doesn’t turn off #and the battery is perma damaged by going empty #so pleased with myself getting one cheaper because it’s used but like new #now I have to return it and figure out if it’s worth trying again #or just using the batteryless stylus I have #or getting a different tablet to draw on #and that’s its own can of worms #it looks like most of the decent drawing tablets are for pros and can’t also just be used as a portable computer as well #and they’re mega expensive!#especially for something that’s a unitasker!#and how the hell can I tell if the reviewers actually like one product better than the other or if one is paying them?!#having the same problem with my Fitbit #the one I have had started acting up so I look up potential replacements #again with the is this a real review or a paid add!#and I absolutely loathe that they’re trying make everything subscription #here is the product that can do all these things! but only if you keep paying us to unlock those features!#I’m tired #I just want the tech i buy to actually work as advertised until it breaks of natural causes rather than being nerfed to make me buy a new 1

1 note · View note

princessbrunette · 8 months ago

Text

rafe had been trying to pick a fight with bunny!reader all day due to his bad mood. however, due to her being a little ray of pink glittery sunshine — it just wasn’t happening.

first, the problem was the pink glittery dildo in your dresser that he found whilst snooping due to boredom, waiting for you to be done in the shower. he argues with himself whilst you sit at your vanity, giggling and happily doing your makeup.

“you tellin’ me you need that shit? ‘cus… ‘cus if that’s the case, don’t come begging for dick every thirty minutes when clearly you could be fixing your own problems.” he rants, huffing as you carefully brush mascara through your eyelashes.

“its not the same! pluuuus, i haven’t used that thing in ages. dont even know where you found it, daddy.” you’re clearly amused and it’s making things worse, locking eyes with your boyfriend through the mirror as he stands with his hands on his hips.

“think i’m stupid, right? if you weren’t still using this thing you would have thrown it in the trash.”

you spin on your stool, giving him a convincing pout. “i only use it when you go away on business trips with your dad, ‘cos i just miss you so much.”

he blinks, clearly not out of juice.

“you need to learn a little patience and self discipline, alright — you’ll appreciate this dick more without the fuckin’ silicone version.” he drawls and you giggle again at his word choice before bringing your manicured fingers to your lips to stop yourself.

“m’attached to it rafey. i like it. its pink and glittery and i’m not throwing it away.” you stand your ground, and his jaw ticks, looking around once more at the toy laying on your bed.

“cant do all the shit i do n’you know it… right? you call me when that toy fuckin’ chokes you out how you like it or spits in your damn asshole and shoves its thumb in there. yeah?” he mouths off before leaving the room, caring less and less about the argument as time goes on. now you really couldn’t fight him — he was playing dirty, and that made you horny.

his fighting spirit is given a new lease of life downstairs in the kitchen, when you accidentally blurt out the wrong name whilst speaking to him.

you’re giggling uncontrollably once more, grabbing at his shirt in the kitchen attempting to pull you closer as he holds his hands up, pretending to be totally disgusted.

“nah, who the fuck is that — huh? nate?”

“gosh, rafey — he’s from gossip girl! i was just thinkin’ about the show and your names sound similar! was an accident!” the fact you don’t sound sorry in the slightest is grinding his gears, not hugging you back when you manage to wrap your arms around him. “daddy hug me back.” you pout, and he peels you back with his hands on your shoulders.

“on thin fuckin’ ice today… alright?” he raises his eyebrows. you smile and nod, earrings jangling like there wasn’t a thought in your head.

it’s on the way to the country club that he’s really had enough, insisting on playing your music in the car, constantly winding down the volume to ask questions that didn’t need to be asked. your delicate hand reaches out for the volume toggle once more and he smacks it away.

“if you’re going to ask me if i’d still love you as a worm, or whatever bullshit you’ve conjured up — i suggest staying quiet, yeah? already told you that you’re pushing it today.”

he doesn’t have to look at you to know your smile is spreading.

“that wasn’t my question, but would you?”

the car pulls over to the side of the road with a swiftness, and he turns his body in his seat. you look unbothered as ever.

“why’d we stop?”

“you’re uh, you’re goin’ in the trunk. okay?” he rasps slowly, nodding his head like it would hypnotise you into agreeing. somehow, it worked — because your grin remains.

“okay!”

he marches over to your side and yanks you out before walking you round the back and opening the trunk. “i’m serious. get in.”

you do with no complaints — and by the time he is back in the drivers seat, he believes he’s taken it too far. however there’s no banging around, no crying, no screaming for him to let you out — so he drives away. the silence is rewarding, but he doesn’t feel great about it.

when he pulls up to the country club, he’s quick to walk around the backside of his truck and open up the trunk, relieved to see you happy as a clam — and lifts you out from under your arms. “that was fun! it was like you were a kidnapper, but also my boyfriend.” your eyes have a twinkle to them as he marches you towards his group of friends, gawking with questioning gazes.

“yeah you like that shit? ‘that turn you on?” he bites back sarcastically, but you nod anyway.

#to combat all the soft!rafe today here’s some extra mean rafe #rafe cameron prompt #bunny!reader

2K notes · View notes

fangirlwriting-stories · 3 months ago

Text

What's Almost Familiar

Summary: “It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink. “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in. It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home. It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. He has to keep the world safe from Bill. I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself. He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar. Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this. But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says. “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

Author's Note: No of course I didn't read the Book of Bill lately like everyone else what are you talking about

I also blame this post with all the amazing inspiring art btw

...

In retrospect, Ford probably shouldn’t have run when the fashion police from the last dimension had started chasing him. But while he doesn’t know anything about how to look fashionable, he does know that based on the suits and dresses of that dimension, he wouldn’t stand a chance in court. He hadn’t even known someone could wear that much glitter.

He hadn’t even meant to go to the stupid dimension in the first place. He’d been aiming for the one over, but his dimension-hopping gun had been buggy for weeks now, and the parts still aren’t ready to fix it. The dimension he was aiming for was supposed to give him an opportunity for a short rest, somewhere he could stay just long enough until the jerry-rigged screen on his gun would go off and tell him the parts are ready.

But surprise surprise, the malfunctioning gun still has a tendency to malfunction, and he’d wound up in a dimension that took his proclivity for comfort personally.

He hadn’t really had a dimension in mind when he fired up the gun again, just somewhere he could hide for a bit, but unfortunately the fashion police followed him right through the portal, meaning Ford is still running, with them hot on his heels and shouting about the tears in his coat.

Okay, okay, he can do this. He’s been on the run enough times to figure this out. He needs to lose them, find a place to hide, and get his dimension gun working long enough to find a place they can’t follow him.

Ford looks ahead and sees a corner to his left, and dives around it. What meets him is a straightway of crumbling abandoned buildings. Well, he’s hidden in worse places. But as he starts running down the street, aiming for another alleyway to duck down in a hope of losing the officers behind him, someone sprints out of an alley on his other side, and runs headfirst into him, knocking them both to the ground.

“Hey, watch where you’re going you knucklehead!” Ford snaps, but when he turns to glare at the person as he tries to pull himself to his feet, he’s met with… himself?

No, that’s impossible. If this was an alternate version of himself, both of them and the entire dimension would now be starting to fade from existence. But it sure looks like him, which only leaves the option of—

Ford’s eyes widen. “Stanley?”

Stanley stares back at him, looking equally as stunned as Ford feels, but before either of them can say anything, from behind Stan comes “You won’t get away with it this time!” and Stan whirls back to look towards it.

“Uh, we should probably get out of here,” he says. He stands and pulls Ford to his feet, and starts pushing them both back the way Ford came.

“Uh, no,” Ford says, pushing back. “Bad idea.”

Before Stan can ask why, the fashion police run around the corner, and Stan looks at them. His expression turns baffled, which is fair, Ford hasn’t encountered cops who wear that much perfume before tonight either.

“Get back here, you filthy criminal!” one of them yells. “The detective themed party was last week!”

“O-kay, we’re running now,” Stan says. He grabs Ford’s hand and pulls them both down the street, away from both sets of cops.

“Buy me some time,” Ford says, yanking out his dimension gun. “If I can get this damn thing to work I can get us out of here!”

Stan turns over his shoulder, and there’s the sound of a gun of some kind going off, which is strange, because he hadn’t thought Stan had one. But judging by the pained cry and the “No, not blood on my suit!”, Stan definitely hit the fashion police with something. Another cry comes from behind them, and Ford manages to get the gun settled on one dimension.

He hits the button on his gun, and a portal opens in front of them both. He grabs Stanley’s arm and pulls them both through it, then points the gun over his shoulder and zaps the portal closed.

They’re in a dimension that’s clearly experienced an apocalypse recently, just a flat, gray, dead expanse of land. And while whatever happened is bound to be depressing if they take the time to figure it out, for now the both of them just use it as an excuse to stop and catch their breath. Ford leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, and lets out a large sigh of relief.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Stanley laughs. “Well, that’s the last time I ever bring that much fake money into a casino,” he says.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ford mutters.

Then realization strikes him, and he stands back up. “Wait, Stanley,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Stan asks incredulously. “You weren’t supposed to jump in after me, Poindexter. What the hell were you thinking?”

“After you?” Ford asks, baffled. “You mean you…” he pauses as the obvious option occurs to him. It seems to occur to Stan at the same time.

“We’re… not from the same place, are we?” Stan asks, his face falling ever so slightly, despite the way he was just yelling at Ford about coming in after him.

“It seems not,” Ford says, giving a sympathetic smile. “But hey, thanks for the save back there. How did you do that, anyway?”

Stan shrugs, and hoists up his right arm. Now that they’re not running from the cops, it’s easier to see that the arm looks suspiciously metal, which is confirmed a second later, when Stan points it firmly away from both of them and turns all of the fingers into what look like miniature guns.

For a second, all Ford can do is stare at it.

“Lost the real one a decade and a half ago,” Stan says. “Figured if I was gonna get an upgrade it might as be an upgrade, y’know?”

Ford swallows, still looking at his arm. “Six fingers?” he asks quietly.

Stan’s eyes widen slightly and he immediately hides the arm behind his back. “Yeah well uh, you know, the guy who made it doesn’t get too many humans and wasn’t super sure what he was doing. Plus uh, more bullets.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Why not get seven fingers, then?”

Stan sighs, and drops his arm back to his side, then rubs the back of his neck with his other one. “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Never,” Ford says, smiling a little despite himself. And despite the fact that he really can’t afford to waste time finding parts for his quantum destabilizer, he can’t help the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says. “I know a good human bar a couple dimensions over. I can probably get this thing working long enough to get us there,” he says, lifting up his dimension gun. “Do you want to get a drink?”

Stan grins.

…

This version of Stan who got sucked into the portal is everything Ford would have thought to expect from a version of Stan who got sucked into the portal. He’s loud and brash and boastful, with plenty of tricks he can pull off with his prosthetic arm and plenty of stories about space heists he’s pulled off. Ford is fairly certain they’re not all true, but he wants to hear every one anyway.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed Stanley. His feelings about his actual brother from his own dimension are so tangled up with betrayal and anger and a million other things that it’s hard to even know what he’d do if he saw him. But in talking to a version of Stanley that carries none of the emotional baggage, Ford almost feels like he’s eighteen again, before everything went so horribly wrong between them.

“Listen, I’m telling you, that one was the law’s fault,” Stan says, setting his mug of beer down. “Laws shouldn’t be stupid if they don’t want to be broken.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that works,” Ford says, though the large smile on his face is definitely giving away how little he’s bothered by it.

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one running from the cops tonight,” Stan points out with a bright grin. “Guess I’m not the only criminal in the family anymore.”

“Laws broken in the name of science and survival don’t count,” Ford says, picking up his own beer and taking a drink.

“Great, so that means I can write off everything I did in the ten years after dad kicked me out, good to know,” Stan asks, sounding amused.

Ford startles a little, surprised at the casual way that Stan says that. He doesn’t often think about what life was like for Stan during those ten years, but if he’s talking about writing off broken laws, Ford really doubts he means it in the name of science.

Either way, Stan seems totally content to move on, instead grinning back at Ford. “And what was tonight, survival or science?” he asks.

Ford wrinkles his nose. “Fashion.”

Stan laughs, loud and delighted in the way Ford hasn’t heard in decades.

“I’m sorry, didn’t you say something about bringing fake money into a casino?” Ford says, shoving Stan in the shoulder rather than acknowledging the ache in his chest.

“Yeah, but you expect that of me. Next time you want to break the law, put some actual malice behind it. It’s way more fun.”

Ford just rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his beer. “Please, I bet I could outshine you with multiverse law-breaking stories.”

“I’m sorry, have you been listening to all my space heists?”

“And how many run-ins have you had with monsters and dream demons? Have you ever even met Bill Cipher?”

“Bill Cipher? What is he, like a secret code nerd you lost a boxing match to?”

“Oh, now I know that wasn’t a dig at my boxing skills.”

“Well, if the glove fits.”

“I’ve been traveling the multiverse and fighting monsters for almost thirty years, my boxing skills are a little better than they were in high school.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ford glares over at Stan. “Are you trying to get me to start a brawl in the middle of a bar?”

Stan just takes another drink of his beer, though Ford can see the smile behind it. He can’t help but smile back a little as he shakes his head and takes a drink from his own mug.

Stan sets his drink down after another second, and turns to face Ford again. And while Ford is expecting another joke or the start to a story to try and one-up all of Ford’s options, instead Stan surprises him.

“So uh, your portal incident,” he says. Ford turns and faces him. He wasn’t expecting Stan to go there. But then Stan says, “where’d you end up after going through? Because like, if we didn’t run into each other until now, but everything else seems mostly the same, does that mean we started in different places?”

Ford gives an “ah” of understanding.

“Well, I ended up in the nightmare realm with Bill,” Ford says. “Had to run for my life pretty fast, but I made it out. I mean, obviously. Where were you?”

“A giant empty void of some kind,” Stan says. He rubs the back of his neck and gives a sour smile. “Thought Ford was mocking me.”

Ford narrows his eyes in confusion. “Huh?”

“Oh, my Ford, obviously,” Stan says with a wave of his hand, as if that clears it up. “Not you.”

“No, I— what do you mean, you thought he was mocking you?”

“Well, after he shoved me in,” Stan says, and something about the way he says it makes Ford’s chest go cold.

“But… why would that mean he was mocking you?” he asks, hoping he’s misunderstanding. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

Stan turns and gives him a confused look. “What? No. What are you talking about?”

“Well, I wouldn’t— you’re not saying he shoved you in on purpose, are you?”

“Hey,” Stan holds up his hands. “Different worlds, different Fords. It doesn’t say anything about you.”

Ford tries not to let his obvious discomfort show. “I suppose,” he says. But still, he can’t imagine any scenario where he’d shove Stanley into the portal on purpose. He might have been angry at Stan, but he never wanted him in danger. And shoving him through the portal would have guaranteed that. He shut it down because it was dangerous, and he didn’t want anything like what happened to Fiddleford to happen to anyone else.

“You’re really bothered by that, huh,” Stan says after a second, because he’s far too similar to the brother Ford knows, which means he can read him like an open book.

“I just don’t understand,” Ford admits, shaking his head. “I mean, you are so similar to how I remember my version of Stanley. Why would I be so different?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was actin’ different too,” Stan says. “My brother, I mean. Real weird.”

Ford looks curiously back at Stan. “Weird how?”

“Like, real giggly and manic. At one point I kicked him hard into the wall and he just started laughing. He said something about how hilarious it was. Honestly, I think he was on something.”

Ford can’t breathe. His mind is starting to paint him a horrifying picture.

“He— Stanley,” he says. “Did he fall unconscious at any point that you were down there?”

Stan looks at him in confusion. “How’d you know that?”

Ford runs a hand through his hair. “That— god. Stanley, that wasn’t your brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That— remember when I mentioned Bill Cipher?”

“The secret code nerd?” Stan asks, smirking.

“He’s not a secret code nerd, he’s a demon,” Ford says, turning to face Stan directly, trying to get across the importance of what he’s saying, because if Stanley meant it when he said he never met Bill, that means he’s spent the whole time here thinking his brother pushed him through the portal on purpose, and Ford can’t let that go on.

“Stanley, he’s a demon that I met, and that your brother must have met too. I suppose I can’t say that things went exactly the same, but from what you said…” he takes a breath and folds his hands together. He doesn’t make a habit of telling people his history with Bill, but this is important.

“I met him when I was young and idealistic and stupid,” he says plainly. “And before I realized how malicious and dangerous he was, I made a deal with him, and let him possess me whenever he wanted. He can’t anymore,” Ford knocks on the metal plate in his head. “But back then, he could anytime that I fell asleep. And that whole thing, about pain being hilarious? He said that all the time. He probably thought that you were too dangerous to him, or that you’d get in the way, so when your brother fell unconscious, he… well. I can’t imagine why he’d lead with the fact that it wasn’t your brother in control anymore.”

Stan looks at him for a long moment after he finishes, and to Ford’s surprise, he can’t read his face. Finally, Stan just says, “Huh.” He turns and takes a drink of his beer.

Ford blinks at him. “Huh?” he repeats.

Stan looks back at him. “Do you want me to say something else?”

“Something— do you believe me?” Ford asks, a little incredulous.

“I mean, I’ve seen enough crazy shit out here that it can’t exactly be off the table,” Stan says. “You also have no reason to lie to me, so… yeah, sure.” He shrugs.

Ford looks at him for another minute. “I’ll admit, I was expecting a bigger reaction,” he says.

“I mean, it doesn’t change that much,” Stan says. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Come on, we both know how smart you are. If my brother wanted me back he’s had thirty years to do something about it. Even if he wasn’t responsible for the first part, it’s on him now. It’s fine. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

Oh. Ford gets it now. Stan wants something he can’t have.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink. “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in. It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home. It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. He has to keep the world safe from Bill. I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

“God, Poindexter,” he says. “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

“I— what? I’ve learned plenty,” Ford says, feeling a little offended. “I’ve learned so much about the multiverse, and about Bill, and—”

“About yourself, knucklehead,” Stan says, smirking at him. “Have you just been passing through from one place to another for thirty years?”

“I— there aren’t a ton of other options,” Ford says. “I can’t stay in a parallel Earth, I could run into a version of myself. There’s too many dimensions that can’t sustain a life form like me, and I still have Bill to worry about. It’s not like I can just leave him to do whatever he wants.”

“Sure you can,” Stan says. “Someone else will take care of him.”

“Someone else will what? Stanley—”

“It’s not all on you, Ford,” Stan says, looking back at him. “If there’s a version of me here, there have to be other versions of you. Let one of them take that risk.”

“I can’t just count on that! What if that’s what we all think?”

Stan snorts, like that’s somehow funny.

“Stanley—”

“And then what?” Stan cuts him off, turning and raising an eyebrow at him. “After you defeat Bill. What do you do then?”

“I— there’s bound to be something else that—”

“What stuff do you do because you want to, Ford? What out here makes you happy?”

“Well— discovering new dimensions and how they work,” Ford says. “Their laws of physics, their food and cultures, their—”

“You got any friends?”

“What does that matter?”

“How much of the stuff you learned was pure observation? Did you go up and talk to anyone, ask them questions about how things work?”

“Right, because everyone in every dimension speaks English.”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you’ve been here almost thirty years and you’ve never gotten your hands on a dimensional translator?”

“I— I have, but that’s not—”

“Ford, listen. We have to live here, right? I’m never going home, and it doesn’t sound like you think you are either.”

“I’m not,” Ford says. “What’s your point?”

“So this is all we got,” Stan says. “You’re never going home, so you have to do something else.”

“Obviously, what are you getting at?”

Stan grins at him. “You want to come check out my place?”

Ford stares at him. “You have a house?”

“Of sorts.” Stan pulls out a small box that looks vaguely like a treasure chest. “I’ve got a dimensional lock on her.”

“I…” Ford says, and trails off, not quite sure what to say.

Stan smiles at him, and then waves over at the bartender. “Thanks for the drinks!” he calls. He slams a couple bills down on the counter and turns back to Ford.

“Are those bills real?”

“Shh. Let’s go.” Stan hits a button on his dimensional lock, and the world bends and twists around them, pulling them back to whatever Stan’s put the other lock on. When they stop, Ford looks around, and—

“Why am I not surprised?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Stan says, grinning at him. “Welcome to the Stan-O-War II.”

They’re standing on a houseboat in what looks like a fairly typical human ocean, if you ignore the fact that a stretch of it rises into the air and twists upside down into the sky not too far up ahead.

They’re sailing right towards the lift into the air, but Stan seems completely unphased by this. He walks up a set of stairs to a steering wheel, and pulls a lever on the side. The entire boat starts glowing gold, and as they reach the shift in gravity, the boat turns into it with no issue, and Ford doesn’t feel his own center of gravity shift at all.

“You would not believe how much I had to steal to get that part working,” Stan says.

“Stanley—”

“Alright, I lied. I worked odd jobs until I could afford it. Easier that way. There’s so many police checks on these kinds of dohickeys, it’s ridiculous.”

The boat sails with the curve until they’re upside down, and Ford can look around him to see stars and planets around them, though not any that he recognizes.

“Remarkable,” he breathes, because he can’t help but be a little blown away by it.

Stanley walks back down the steps and over to stand next to Ford, smiling at the stars around them too.

“I picked this dimension as a home base,” Stan says. “I think you can guess why.”

Ford just nods.

Stan walks forward and leans over the side of the boat to look down at the water. After a second, Ford joins him. From the— sea? sky?— below, fish leap up and eat the stars out of the air. As soon as they land back in the water, one of the stars still in the air splits in half, and the number of stars in the sky remains unchanged.

“Some of the planets,” Stan says, pointing at one with his finger and following it as the bot sails past it. “Can support life. So when the fish eat the stars, the stars split so nothing on the planet dies. The brief moments of darkness are the planet’s solar eclipses.”

“Planet-wide solar eclipses?” Ford asks, amazed. “Is the star gone for too short of a time to make a difference in the temperature?”

“Nah. The folks on the planet just evolved to get used to it.”

“How do you know?” Ford asks, looking back at him.

“I shrunk myself down and went to ask ‘em. Had to time it right, though. I’m sure not evolved to survive an eldritch fish eating the sun.”

“Stanley, that’s… incredibly dangerous,” Ford says. But for a moment, he can’t help but feel impossibly jealous.

“Worth it though. I’m apparently well known to everyone on pretty much every planet. They kind of view me as a god. Hell of an ego boost that was.”

“Oh lord,” Ford mutters. “I don’t want to think about that.”

Stan laughs. He turns and leans back against the side of the boat, then gazes up at the sea, back on the… well, Earth, of sorts, now above them.

“When I said I made my peace with it,” Stan says, without looking at Ford, “I meant it. I know my brother. I know how his head works. I know he’s probably doin’ alright without me, and I’m okay with that. Way I see it, my two options were either let everything fester and grow into an angry, bitter old man, or let it go.” Stan spreads his hands. “I like where the second option has let me end up.”

Ford looks at Stan, and finds he doesn’t know what to say. It’s an unusual feeling. He’s not sure he likes it.

It looks like they’ll be sailing along the sky for a while, judging by what’s ahead of them, so Ford leans back next to Stan and looks at the sky below them and the sea above them.

“But…” Ford says finally, because he has to say something. “What’s your goal, here? What are you trying to do?”

Stan turns to him, raises an eyebrow. “Goal?”

“What do you want to do, with your life?” Ford asks. “It— it can’t just be— this.”

Stan smiles, just a little. “And why not?”

“Well— because…” Ford trails off, lost.

Neither of them say much for a while.

Finally, Ford’s dimension gun beeps at him. He glances down at the screen and lets out a sigh of relief.

“My parts to fix my gun are ready,” he says to Stan. “I’ve gotta get going. But… thanks, I guess. It was nice to meet you, and have a drink, and…” he looks around, and his words are stolen for another moment. Eventually, he just finishes “…this.”

Stan gives him a long look, then just nods.

Ford moves the gun’s settings carefully, and when he fires it, it shows him the right dimension.

It’s just as he’s about to step through that Stan speaks again.

“You could come with me, you know,” he says. “We could hunt for treasure and adventure, like we always said we would. Even if we’re not technically the ones we said it to.”

This, Ford has been expecting, and he responds instantly and with ease. “I can’t,” he says, turning to give Stan one last look. “I have to try and defeat Bill. I have to save the world.”

But rather than get angry, or sad, or doing anything that makes sense, Stan just sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “You always do, huh.” He turns and starts back up the stairs towards the wheel, and Ford watches him go. Stan gives no argument, doesn’t keep trying to convince Ford to come.

Ford doesn’t know what to say. It’s the third time it’s happened, and that’s enough that he’s decided, he’s not a fan. He would say it’s foolish to expect to know how a Stan from an alternate dimension would act, but so much about this version of his brother has been familiar enough to make Ford’s chest ache. And yet, when it comes to the big things, the set-in-stone things, like the Stan-O-War, and Bill, and getting shoved into the multiverse for thirty years by someone Stan freely admits he thought put him here on purpose; when it comes to the conversations that Ford should absolutely know the path of, Stan reacts in the complete opposite way he expects, and it leaves Ford feeling lost and unsteady.

“I…” he says, reaching for something normal. He fails. “I don’t understand.”

Stan turns to face him. There is so much sudden warmth and love in his gaze that it takes Ford’s breath away.

“That’s okay, Sixer,” Stan says. “Just go try and save the world. Come find me if you fail, okay? I’ll still be here.”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that either. After a second, he just turns and walks through to the other dimension, to get the parts he needs.

He turns one last time and watches Stan as the portal between them closes. Stan smiles as it does, and then he’s gone. He leaves Ford with a lump in his throat, an ache in his chest, and the feeling that he’s missed something important.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #reverse portal au #plus the ford from canon #my fic

344 notes · View notes

wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 11 months ago

Text

Girl dad Astarion who is mourning the times when his biggest problem was coming up with more or less child-friendly excuses to not read yet another bedtime story. Or to fix the dress of a shabby old doll that gave him the creeps. Or to kiss some scratches better, even though the minuscule wounds usually troubled him more than they did the damn child.

Nobody ever told him that children grow up this fucking fast, okay?

But now he has to watch his darling little girl grow into a beautiful young woman, and he is—quite frankly—terrified for her.

Because wherever he looks, he can see that strangers are watching her, too.

It doesn’t even bother him that they notice his daughter’s beauty, no, you would have to be blind not to see it. She’s stunning—obviously. She's his child after all…and Tav’s, of course, but that’s not the point.

It’s the way they're looking at the girl that disgusts Astarion to his very core. Leering eyes following her every move. Ulterior motives buried under layers of false niceties. Seemingly innocent little touches stolen as if those filthy hands were entitled to her body in any way.

And for all their obnoxious gawking, they don’t even see her. They seldom care for his daughter’s talents, her sense of humour, or her intelligence. Her heart.

Those heads are only turning for a pretty face, and for all the small privileges that might afford her, they always come with a price—a price Astarion has paid once upon a time; a price he doesn’t ever want his daughter to even consider accepting.

But the world is not kind. It’s already leaving scratches on his child that neither he nor Tav can kiss better any longer.

And Astarion hates it because the last time he felt this helpless was when his own pretty face was all that kept him, well, as alive as he could be. A thing to be used for other people's gain. Selling himself out for crumbs.

And then, one day, he notices a new bracelet on his daughter’s wrist.

She happily hands it over to him so he can take a look. Then she tells him some stranger gifted it to her. Just like that!

All they wanted for it was a little smile—isn’t that so great, father?

It’s not. Far from it. Astarion is fuming inside.

How dare some random nitwit think that ugly trinket worthy of his daughter’s wonderful smile? The audacity. The nerve. Unbelievable!

“Darling, it’s not a gift if they’re expecting something in return,” a forced smile tugs at his lips, trying to soften his scolding tone.

It doesn’t work.

“But it’s so pretty, I had to have it!”

The girl sulks, her little nose scrunched up as if he just sent her to bed without her fairy tales. Astarion supposes, in a way, he has.

“And what do we do when we see something we want, dear?”

She rolls her eyes at him in a way that always has Tav cackling up. Maybe it's because, in moments like this, she looks a little too much like her father.

“We just pocket it.”

“Exactly, my darling child, we just pocket it,” Astarion nods approvingly. “And if they ask for a smile next time?”

“We stab them,” she sighs.

“Absolutely, we do. Now, off with you, lest your daggers get all rusty, you lazy duck.”

Ending the discussion with a gentle smile, Astarion watches the girl go before he produces the offending bracelet from his sleeve.

It’s always out of sight, out of mind with pretty things, isn't it?

He takes another look at the bracelet, scrunching up his nose as if it gave off a particularly vile smell. In a way, it does.

In fact, it’s giving Astarion the creeps. And it's not even made from real gold, by the way.

Astarion scoffs at the cheap trinket. This child still has so much to learn.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dadstarion #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate astarion #astarion ancunin #to the best worst dad #astarion father of the year every year #being perceived is pain #girlhood in a nutshell

930 notes · View notes

aria-greenhoodie · 18 days ago

Note

Time stuck au but it’s Pacifica meeting the Anti-Cipher society. And she is becoming Abigale’s apprentice in engineering.

I thought I DELETED THIS ASK but I DIDNT it was just HIDDEN FOR SOME REASON! anyway this idea has captivated me, I have yet to draw Pac with the whole society (I WILL) but here’s some doodles of her and Abbey!!

Click for Quality!

Also some extra musings under the cut…..

The Northwests travel to Illinois one holiday. Pacifica takes some time off from her insufferable parents to find someplace worth visiting. Unfortunately, it seems like nothing in Illinois is worth visiting. She eventually finds herself at 333 North East West Drive, a functionally abandoned historical building, “For Rent” sign collecting dust in its windows. Something catches her eye on the ground - what looks to be a normal tape measurer. I say “looks to be,” because it is in fact a TIME tape-measurer, albeit a half-broken one.

Pacifica ends up in 1901 using the half-broken time tape measurer and manages to break it completely. Luckily for her, Abigale finds her and agrees to help fix it… and teach Pacifica some mechanical know-how in the process!

Abigale doesn’t know that she’s Pacifica’s ancestor. Pacifica is pretty certain Abigale Blackwing is Abigale Northwest, but doesn’t say anything because Abigale Northwest was always considered a bit of a stain on the family, half-buried by history. Pacifica doesn’t want to let Abigale know she’s been erased, and honestly, is still a little bought-in to her family’s philosophy of sweeping “unsavory” people or things under the rug at this point.

Pacifica is actually pretty damn good at mechanics! She takes a second to get a hang of it, but once she grasps the basics she learns the rest shockingly quick. Abigale is so proud.

Pacifica actually helps enable some semblance of workshop-safety in the society, what with her modern knowledge that lead, mercury, and arsenic are all deadly toxins that you shouldn’t be putting in “anti-cipher tonic” to guzzle and/or rub on your skin.

The rest of the society LOVE Pacifica. That’s their collective daughter now.

Jessamine teaches her how to shoot! Pacifica isn’t a very good natural aim, but Jessie is patient and knows skill comes with practice.

Horace is so charmed by her, he really takes up a sort of father figure. He would mow down entire countries for this kid. Pacifica doesn’t know how to take Horace at first, since she’s so used to her real dad sucking ass, but she becomes close with him fast!

Thurburt is SO her silly weird uncle. Thurburt was always a clumsy, accident-prone fool, but somehow around Pacifica he becomes even more slapstickly-inclined. Pacifica thinks he’s doing it on purpose to get a laugh out of her. He is. It always works.

Even O’Pimm, the crotchety old drunk that he is, gets a kick out of her! He likes her honesty. If Pac thinks something’s daft or dull, she’ll say it. O’Pimm is glad to not be the ONLY one with sense around the society anymore.

And of course, it goes without saying that Abigale ADORES Pac. Abigale never wanted to be a mother, but teaching Pacifica the ropes of engineering and working her through her problems made her reconsider that thought.

Pacifica actually manages to fix the time tape measurer all on her own one night. It takes 2 weeks for her to finally tell the society. She almost doesn’t want to leave.

Abigale was the one to convince her to go home. “The future needs you, Pacifica. It needs brilliant, talented girls like you. You’ve got people waiting on you, but more than that, you’ve got a whole WORLD waiting for you! Live your life, Pacifica, your story doesn’t end in this time. Promise me you’ll make some change in that future of yours, rather than feel trapped in the past with us…”

Pacifica is a lot different when she returns. She’s suddenly way into tinkering, something she keeps secret from her family. She’s also a lot happier, and a lot less concerned about mistakes (though she’s more worried when her parents are in eye or earshot…)

Pacifica starts to really get interested in the story of Abigale Northwest. She unearths a lot of hidden secrets about her life. Most of it isn’t good, especially now. At least Pacifica knows the truth, now. (I have a VERY specific idea as to how Abbey’s life was after the society disbanded and it is NOT pretty. When I post it I’ll add a link here)

She wishes Abigale could have had her happy ending. She wonders if she had stayed behind, could she have changed things? She considered using the time tape measurer to go back more times then she’d like to admit. But she made a promise, didn’t she? Her job is here in the future, not stuck in the past…

119 notes · View notes

newkatzkafe2023 · 2 months ago

Note

I love your work. Almost no one talks about Netflix monkey king. So May I request a reader who is kind oblivious to the fact that everywhere she goes it like those cartoon disasters. Like she could walk and a giant boulder almost hit her. The poor monkeys are the one who take the brunt of the damage and you are concerned but completely confused. Basically reader a bad luck magnet and doesn’t realize it

This reminds me of 2 things Candy by robbie Williams and Mr Bean🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

youtube

(Lmk Wukong) He is so stressed being with you everyday especially when your so unnaturally clumsy. You bever seem to be aware of your surroundings and just skip and walk while looking at your phone or just walking around smiling. Just to have a beam almost fall on you, a car almost hitting you, and to cause people to trip over and next to you. Wukong is mildly jealous That you can cause mayhem without lifting a finger, But it's also greatly cospinning and that causes him to take damage from your clumsiness. It's a good thing you love to give kisses for his boo boos🥰🥰🥰

(Nezha Reborn) you are like a black cat, a adorably sexy black cat that roams the streets with flowers in her head. Everywhere you go Is chaos and calamity happens, and the crazy part you have no freaking idea😣😣. Wukong Is dumbfounded by the stuff that happens around you like seriously How do pianos fall from the sky?!??! Why is it when you walk past a open window and explosion happens, and then the final straw is when you look on your phone and Cause a bus to hit a flag pole. Yeah Wukong Find himself Being the responsible one and Getting Is consequences to your bazaar events, but it's so cute that you turn around and show concern for him as you kiss his wounds.

(HIB Wukong) IT'S LIKE HE'S RAISING 3 BABIES AND ONE PIG!!!!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 if it's not silly girl wondering off, Luier's curiosity getting the better of him, or pigsy doing something that's probably gonna get him kilt or arrested. It's you and your bad luck and Absent mindedness, like seriously, are you so stuck in your bubble? You don't see much of the world around you. Wukong luckily calms down about this because It's not like you're trying to stress him out and make him worried it's just your so damn accident prone🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Granded it's on Wukong for baring the blunt to most of your accident but at least you take such good care of him at the end😚💋💋🧡

(MKR Wukong).............First he has to protect master Tripitaka............now he has to watch and protect YOU TOO?!??!?!?! Wukong has never seen someone so accident prone in his whole life. Like seriously HOW ON EARTH AND YOU STILL ALIVE?!??!?! Then you would have the nerve to finally pay attention to what you are doing and show concern for him when he's looks All dishevelled and beat up. You'll often pout and take out an first aid kid to come and take care of him, You drive Wukong crazy with your Terrible luck and Absent mindedness but oh my god your so sweet🥰

(Netflix Wukong) He's running around like a chicken without a head when it comes to you and your bad luck. Seriously, how are you so unbothered and unaware of your surroundings not to mention how you can just travel around like nothing is gonna happen to you. At first, Wukong thought someone was one to get you, but after a long time of watching your back, he learned about your ever so Crappy luck and he had to take the area damage. At least your always so extra affectionate when it comes to his daily injuries Making sure to kiss all his boo boos.

(BMW Wukong) Sigh you can be quite the handful for him everyday. Wukong can literally feel his own eye twitch as he watched you walk in a the field in the middle of a battle. Luckily for Wukong nothing seem to hit you infact Stranger things happen Whenever you showed up, like arrows missing you drop your book, or people hitting someone else while you bend down to fix your dress. Then the old booby trap bit when you walked into a bunch of traps and somehow only he got injured, While you come out unscathed he just doesn't understand and for once it drives him insane. At leat when you finally noticed his current condition you stop to nurse him back to help.

(Destined one) Can you believe he is adapted and got used to it quite quickly. He silently watches you on the daily so he is quick to notice you and your wildly bad luck. The Destined one has also noticed that you don't seem to mind your own clumsiness and terrible environment. In fact, what's kinda weirded him out was the fact that you don't seem to even notice it or more like your completely unaware. He takes note of this as you wrap up his latest injury, Due to your calamity.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🤕

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #x female y/n #mr bean #clumsy

87 notes · View notes

actually-safer-to-kiss · 1 year ago

Text

The Drafts

Summary: Spencer confronts Reader about a breakup text he found in her Notes app

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort?

Content warnings: Manipulation, lying, yelling, anger, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1.5k

You check yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It’s date night, and it’s been long overdue since Spencer’s been called away to four states in the past two weeks. Despite the stress that already comes with that (and the current state of your relationship), the dress he got you makes up for it, and helps you think about how lucky you are in more ways than one. It fits you just right without trapping you in the fabric. Even the fluorescent lights in his bathroom can’t make you look bad. “Spencer!” You call out, zhuzhing your hair again before leaving. No response, but you flick the switch off before saying, “I’m ready whenever you are!”

Still nothing. Not surprising. It’s rare when Spencer isn’t lost in his own mind. You’ve learned not to ask every time this happens because it often leads to theoretical explanations that go over your head within seconds. On rare occasions, he’s discovered a plot hole in one of the older Dr. Who episodes (which also go over your head).

This is a different time though. Because when you turn the corner to the bedroom, Spencer isn't hunched over his desk or scribbling incoherence on his whiteboard (yes, he has a whiteboard in his bedroom and has refused to move it for reasons unexplained). Instead, he’s pacing the small area between the wall and the foot of his bed. He’s hunched over the phone. Your phone.

You try to bite back the instant frustration as his bare feet smack the floor. “Spencer,” you monitor your tone. “Are you ready?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” That is all he asks when he finally stops to look up at you. He’s not exactly emotional, but he’s definitely holding back.

Red hotly spreads across your cheeks. “What?”

He points and his eyebrows rise like he’s found evidence at a crime scene. “Flushed face.”

“Spencer, we’ve talked about —”

“Likely a sign of embarrassment from being exposed.” He turns the phone screen to face you; paragraphs of text and broken sentences from previous editing attempts. Arguably, not your finest work.

Your mouth is agape, and it is hard to fight the instinct to close it upon suspicion of further guilt. You bet he’ll assume surprise. “I thought we talked about you not looking through my phone.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures back at it as if it’s not obvious. Sadness is already breaking some barriers, starting with his voice, but he’s trying to maintain a smug demeanor. Even in potential agony, Spencer can still get a high from being right.

You grunted. It was involuntary but honest. It came out of your throat like steam, as the anger in your core is already overflowing into the rest of your body. It bursts again when you snatch the phone out of his hands. He doesn’t flinch, damn him. You scroll up and down on the app incoherently, reminding yourself of the words he’s read and memorized. You think of how they’ll haunt you, how he’ll haunt you with them. “I can’t believe you went through my phone again.”

“I can’t believe you’re not even trying to fix this," he says. “I-I understand that things aren’t the most ideal right now, but we could’ve made time to talk about it.”

“What? Like not going through my phone? Look at how that worked out.”

“I know you’ve been acting differently. No kisses goodbye every day, spacing out at dinners with my coworkers, and a slew of other things.”

“Oh, are they written down on yours? I'd love to read them.”

Spencer shakes his head, letting his eidetic memory speak for itself there. “I’m a profiler, Y/N. And I can’t deny facts.”

The grunt before was delicate compared to the noise you make now. What the noise was is unknown, but terrifying. It wipes Spencer's smirk clean off. “Yes! You’re a profiler! I’m reminded of that every single goddamn day because every move I make near you is analyzed under a microscope!” You resist throwing your phone on the bed; partly out of fear of where it will bounce to, and partly Spencer snatching it up again. Instead, you tap the screen, exiting the Notes app and navigating to your texts. You press the latest contact, Garcia. Then you stay there, knowing Spencer will see the screen brightness show slightly on your face. “You didn’t read my texts, did you?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Your eyes dart towards him, and you can tell he wonders what cruel piece of evidence he missed.

“Yeah. Cause if you did, you would’ve known I was writing a breakup text for someone else. But you didn’t. So once again, you’ve snooped and gone out of your way to hurt your own feelings for no reason.”

The look on Spencer’s face. No matter how angry you get, how wrong he is, the sullen puppy dog look this man can pull off with his eyes alone is a weapon. It always makes him look pitiful.

And it makes lying to him even more painful.

“Spencer.” You say with a sigh.

“Who’s it for?”

You throw your head back. “Why is that your business?”

Spencer’s interrogation tactics often get in the way of the fact that he’s not facing a criminal, but his girlfriend. His girlfriend whose privacy he violated with no warrant presented to you. But when Spencer is on a case, he fails to differentiate between the two. You’ve practically heard him making mental notes when your behavior is even slightly off. Even when they have nothing to do with him. But he’s always quick to assume they are as he’s either leaving for work or being called away before discussions can occur. Spencer is a profiler, yes, but all profilers can let their emotions get the better of them.

You show Spencer your wrists. Gold bracelets clang together instead of silver cuffs. “What’s the goal here, Dr. Reid?”

He paces the floor again, briefly, before settling on the bed corner. He’s still looking at the floor, thinking, but you can tell his thought process has slowed down thanks to your (alleged) evidence. "Something must be wrong." He whispers. It’s pathetic. “You used to tell me everything.”

“And you used to not look through my things.” You’d hate to admit that you’re shaking too, but not from sadness. You stay standing, and put your phone on the dresser next to you. Face down. You cross your arms. “Things can change. Actions have consequences.”

He exhales briefly through his nose. He looks up, his eyes already shifting to a pinkish hue. “So it’s your turn to lecture me because —”

“Because my boyfriend is profiling off the clock again? Yes. Because he’s interrogating me and questioning my intentions when he’s supposed to be getting ready for date night? A date night he insisted upon because he’s been working overtime and profiling on a jet for the entire month? Yes.”

The anger. The intensity of it all pierced your blood long before. It coiled around your vocal cords while making your point. You had plenty more to say. A slideshow would’ve been worthy of listing Spencer’s actions over the last three months alone. Except the strain is hard, and clearing your throat doesn’t help. So you stand there, looking down at the miserable man you loved once. You pretend the silence is intentional, you let it speak for itself.

And by some miracle (or perhaps the predicted luck of your dress), it worked. After wiping the budding tears from his eyes, Spencer studies you from curled hair to strappy heels. You know a stray movement will ignite a thousand rebuttals. You preferred dinner, so you maintain your statue-like stillness by raising only your eyebrows.

Spencer swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I should’ve…” He nods while clamping his lips closed. “Yeah, I should have talked to you first. I’m so sorry.”

You exhale. It could be the relief of moving again. Or the fact that you can’t help but comfort the sad man who is still technically your boyfriend. You take his hand and pull him off the bed and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder while holding your waist. His palms are flat on your back as his chest heaves and caves. Your arms are around his neck, and you comfort him with soft hushes. Meanwhile, adrenaline depletion is already beckoning your eyes to close. But you stare at the wall.

You’re so tired. You’ve been tired. Decaying is perhaps the best word for all of this. Nevertheless, you hold Spencer tightly to let him know you’re there. It's all the strength you have. The strength to end things though is of a different caliber than you thought you could fathom. You can collect enough to rip off the world's most difficult bandaid, eventually. But Spencer Reid with a theoretical broken heart is already painful enough to witness. He needs you right now. And right now, you'll be there for him.

Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and her discord for helping me with fleshing out this story 🩵

649 notes · View notes

live-laugh-legolas · 2 months ago

Note

It's spoopy month! How do the members of the fellowship carve their pumpkins, and how long does it take for Pippin's carving knife to get confiscated?

The fellowship pumpkin carving

Aragorn:

-He’s sort of a closeted crafter/artist

-He is humble with it but it always looks great

-He knows how to use a knife so it shouldn’t be too surprising

-Will only use one knife for the whole thing; doesn’t use any of the fancy tools

Legolas:

-He doesn’t quite understand the purpose but he is happy to learn other people’s traditions

-He spends a long time on it

-He’s annoyingly humble

-In the way that he is like “it could be better. I’m sure I’ll improve for next year”

-But then he turns his pumpkin around and it’s something like this bullshit

-Take your perfect elvish ass somewhere else Legolas

Gimli:

-Takes pumpkin carving very seriously

-And damn is it always a masterpiece

-The type to do carvings like it is stone or wood

-It is often reminiscent of those face carvings people do into trees

-He’s very proud of it; and he should be

Boromir:

-He always makes the exact same pumpkin every year

-And not scary because he doesn’t want to upset anyone

-Little Faramir didn’t like his scary pumpkin so he changed his design

-If it ain’t broke don’t fix it

-He’s more there to chat and have fun; he isn’t paying that much attention tbh

-Drinks ale while carving (please don’t handle knives when drinking)

Frodo:

-Keeps it simple but prefects what he does; no messy edges

-Although he is a horror fan he makes cute pumpkins

-I imagine he is a bigger fan of just fall activities rather than Halloween itself

-He actually may prefer to paint the pumpkins

Sam:

-Laser focused

-Mumbles to himself the whole time

-Keeps a bucket for the seeds because he will bake them later

-Makes a decent design but then forgets how carving works and accidentally carves off the whole thing

Merry:

-Makes the weirdest design he can

-Often does some sort of pop culture reference

-Will make pumpkin helmets

-He tries to convince Legolas that Elmo is some sort of deity and this is a religious pumpkin

Pippin:

-His favorite part is just carving out the pumpkin

-And throwing the guts around

-He gets right in there; why use a spoon when God gave you hands?

-He has pumpkin under his nails for days

-Always picks the biggest pumpkin he can find

-He gets bored quickly though so he ends up making a whole scene

Gandalf:

-Not a fan of the mess

-So he uses an assortment of tools to keep things clean and precise

-Although he probably only does a very small pumpkin and makes it very detailed

-He mostly enjoys watching the hobbits have fun while also making sure no one gets stabbed

———————————————————————

Btw I have your other request about the pottery in the works; I wanted to find photos for it but I am having a difficult time finding ones that fit so maybe I won’t add photos idk

60 notes · View notes

glamdringwlv · 3 months ago

Text

Unchain my heart: Part 1.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

Prologue, Part 2.

Part 1. When the man comes around.

“Focus, let’s go,” Charles’s voice resonated in her mind, like a calming echo.

Mia gritted her teeth. “It hadn’t occurred to me, Professor. Thanks for the advice,” she thought sarcastically. It was hard not to be consumed by frustration. Every time she failed, it felt like she was moving backward instead of forward. She took a deep breath and returned to her task.

The atmosphere in Xavier’s office was thick with tension. Mia sat across from the mahogany desk, her gaze fixed on the Professor. Her eyes burned with intensity, weary from battling against Charles’s interruptions. Every time she thought she’d won the battle, her concentration shattered.

Everything around her felt overwhelming—the students’ voices on the other side of the door, the hum of the machines, even her own breathing.

“How long is this going to take?” Jubilee interrupted from a corner of the room, her tone bored and slightly irritated. “It’s really dull watching them glare at each other in silence. Are we going to spend the whole afternoon watching them stare each other down?”

“You’re the one who wanted to be here, Jubilee. No one forced you,” Scott replied, crossing his arms and frowning.

“I thought this was going to be way more epic. Come on, two telepaths? I’m just hoping something happens. She hasn’t blinked in five minutes.”

Mia took another deep breath, trying to block out Jubilee and Scott’s noise. Their voices blended in her mind, making it harder to concentrate.

“Now that I think about it, what is she supposed to be learning?” Jubilee asked, looking at Scott. “Isn’t she supposed to be a teacher?”

Mia felt the mental barrier she’d built begin to falter. Scott’s storm of thoughts was on the verge of breaching her consciousness.

He shouldn’t say anything. It would betray Mia’s trust. Would she be angry if I told her why? She’s just a curious kid. Scott’s thoughts were a torrent Mia could barely contain.

With a sigh, Mia felt Charles seize the distraction to tear down what she’d worked so hard to build. Her mental barrier crumbled, and she let out a frustrated growl. Again.

“Damn it,” she muttered to herself, her breathing heavy and her fists clenched.

“Watch your language, Mia.”

She was on the brink of giving up, of telling Charles that she’d had enough, that she couldn’t take it anymore, and that teaching teenagers had completely worn her out, but she bit her tongue.

Mia made a decision. She gently touched the stream of Scott’s thoughts, a soft gesture, almost like a touch on the shoulder. Scott, recognizing the sensation, allowed her into his mind. It was something Mia always did: she asked for permission before intruding into someone’s mental space, a courtesy she considered essential.

Suddenly, everything was overwhelmed by her presence, her feelings, even her scent. Summers took a moment to compose himself, and though he was used to mental intrusions, he felt overwhelmed at first. He’d always been fascinated by how different her mutation was from Charles’s.

Tell her, it doesn’t matter. She just wants to understand.

“Mia arrived at the school at seventeen without knowing how. She had lost all her memories, didn’t even know her name,” Scott explained aloud, his words reflecting what Mia saw in his mind. “Charles has helped her recover some of what she lost, but there are still things locked away in her head. Even the Professor can’t access them. He’s teaching her to unlock them.”

“Wow, if she’s already omega level, imagine what she could do with all her memories. This chick is cool. Pretty scary,” Jubilee thought, her thoughts buzzing with a mix of admiration and fear.

“Jubilee, please. Don’t bombard me with your opinions. I’m trying to concentrate. It’s hard to block you out when you think so loudly,” Mia said, a hint of irritation in her tone.

“I’m not bombarding you with anything, Professor,” Jubilee replied, surprised.

“Of course you are. I’m not going to give you a harder test just because you know my past.”

Jubilee fell silent, trying to control her thoughts, but Mia could still sense the agitation in her mind, the fear and discomfort. It was a common reaction when others realized how deeply she could delve with her powers.

“I think that’s enough for today, Mia. You’ve held out longer this time and with distractions,” Charles said, his voice calm, but Mia detected a hint of pride in his words.

“No, I can do better,” Mia insisted, her voice filled with determination.

She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes tightly, her fists clenched until her nails dug into her palms. She felt the thud of her heart, the weight of her mistakes, and the desperate need to improve.

Charles tried to dissuade her, but Mia stood her ground, and Charles watched her in silence. This time, she decided to close her eyes, focusing on her mind. Mia knew her telepathic abilities were different from Charles’s—more raw, more instinctive. But today, she was determined to push beyond her limits. She visualized a glowing line connecting her consciousness to Charles’s, a line that shone brightly with energy. Resolute, she extended her awareness towards that line, trying to sense Charles’s mind beyond the barrier. She pushed with all her might, making her breathing rapid and a slight tremor run through her body.

Scott felt the urge to rush to her, to touch her shoulder to bring her back to reality and pull her away from the training, but Charles stopped him with a look, feeling the mutant’s progress.

The lights in the room flickered, and the onlookers were stunned. Mia had shown no signs that her mutation extended beyond telepathy, but when she concentrated too hard, the electrical devices around her reacted inexplicably for a brief moment.

With one final effort, she fell into Charles’s consciousness. A whirlwind of information and voices overwhelmed her. Everything was utter chaos, a maelstrom of data. She tried to focus on something, anything. She concentrated on the relationship they had forged and searched for herself amidst the storm of memories. And then she saw it. Fragments of her own past, distorted and confusing images. She saw a laboratory, bright lights, faces she couldn’t recognize. But what struck her most was the feeling that Charles knew more than he had revealed. There was hidden knowledge, a certainty in his mind that made Mia’s heart tighten.

And then, like a flash, a fleeting image appeared before her. A man with metal claws, fierce and wild. She didn’t recognize him, but the image was etched in her mind. She didn’t recognize him, but something about the image unsettled her. It was as if a part of her, something very deep and hidden, was reacting to that image. The feeling was strange, almost familiar, though she couldn’t understand why.

Before she could process what she’d seen, a sharp pain pulled her out of Charles’s mind. She opened her eyes abruptly, feeling a trickle of blood running from her nose. The effort had been too much, and her body was paying for it. But despite the pain, Mia couldn’t stop thinking about what she had seen.

Before she could delve deeper, a word echoed in her mind: “Weapon X.” It was like a flash, an echo lost in some forgotten corner of her memory. She didn’t know where that association came from, or why she knew that name, but the sensation left her stunned.

Scott’s hands were already on her shoulders, anchoring her to this world. His scent pulled her away from the sensations she had just discovered. She leaned more into Cyclops’s touch and let herself be comforted.

“She’s exhausted. She’s come too far,” his voice resonated in her head, and she cursed herself for not having gone further.

She was dazed, the voices around her seemed distant. It was strange that they were discussing her limits as if she weren’t there. She understood less and less of what was being said around her, a disjointed ebb and flow that made no sense.

Mission. Mutants in danger. Ororo. Magneto.

She felt herself slowly disconnecting from the conversation until she became unconscious. Her limp body alerted Scott, who tried to move her to see how she was doing.

Concern shaded his face as he saw her completely out of it. He shook her gently, but there was no response. This wasn’t the first time Mia had lost consciousness while training with the Professor, but it didn’t make him any less worried.

“Take her to the infirmary, she needs to rest,” Charles ordered Scott.

“What do you think she saw? The last time she ended up like this was when she remembered her parents.”

“I’m not sure,” Scott replied, but there was tension in his voice. He knew exactly what Mia had seen, but he didn’t know how it had affected her neural network. Mia’s past was a dark abyss that could consume her if revealed too soon.

Summers lifted Mia and carried her out of the office, suspecting that the Professor was hiding something from both of them.

...

Mia awoke in the infirmary feeling disoriented and confused. The room was bathed in a soft, warm light, and the air was tinged with a familiar medicinal scent. She slowly sat up, a persistent throb in her head pulsing with each beat of her heart.

She took a moment to adjust her vision. The room was quiet, with several beds and machines around. The sounds of the infirmary were soothing, but a constant buzzing in her ears hinted at something more going on.

A low murmur pierced through the pain that made her eyelids heavy. Her mind scanned the room and found it—a new thread of thought. As she focused on it, it seemed like a tangled skein of threads struggling to unravel. Even before she had delved into them, she could taste the pain on the tip of her tongue. She pushed that feeling aside and tried to steady herself.

Once she felt more stable, she stood up carefully, removing the IVs. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out this time, but her muscles felt stiff, indicating it had been quite a while. She stifled a groan of pain and struggled to get up.

As she approached the other bed, her breath caught in her throat. Damn. It was the guy with the metal claws she’d seen in the professor's mind. Something inside her twisted with recognition, but she couldn’t place the feeling.

Maybe it was connected to her past. She bit her lip, debating whether to invade the privacy of an unconscious man she didn’t know or to wait and resolve her doubts once he woke up.

Weapon X. What if he was dangerous? She needed to find out. Although the professor wouldn’t have let him into the mansion if he believed him to be a threat.

She closed her eyes, and the tangled threads of thoughts and pain reappeared before her. Tentatively, she extended her consciousness towards his, ready to dive in, but a hand, gripping too tightly, seized her wrist, making her gasp in surprise.

“Where the hell am I?”

The mutant moved quickly. Now she was trapped between the bed and his chest. Her eyes caught a glint near her neck, and the metal brushed against her throat, scratching the area lightly.

Fear surged through her, and the lights in the room began to flicker uncontrollably. Logan looked around in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Despite the blinding headache, Mia projected a simple command into the mutant’s mind: Let me go.

The contact vanished instantly, as if she’d been slapped. She fell to her knees, still weak from the strain of the training. Her mind hadn’t fully recovered, and even such a simple command had taken an extreme effort.

She heard the door slam shut and let the darkness envelop her once more.

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan x f!reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #marvel #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x men #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

122 notes · View notes

xotication · 6 months ago

Text

☆,

i’m bored nd tired of videogames so here’s some more of what type of man i think kaneki is..

okay. when you & kaneki first meet, you have to break him into a LOT of things. one time you guys were texting nd he said something funny.. so you keysmashed & poor baby was CONFUSED.

“y/n are you okay..?”

having to explain it to him made the situation all the more funny but awkward at the same damn time. it’s a hassle having to explain gen z things to this man LMAO.

you had him download instagram, tiktok, even snapchat & learning how to use them was such a drag to him.

“why do you like this stuff anyway?” he says but a week later he’s sending you his entire fyp all like “HAGAHAHA BABE THIS IS SO FUNNY” like boyyy.. wasn’t you JUST talking shit?! at one point he even takes it upon himself to upload silly lil vids & they start to go VIRAL. he doesn’t understand why bc half the time he’s just talking about you & explaining diff things he doesn’t understand about girls.

“my girlfriend asks me really dumb questions all the time, i don’t get it.. how does your brain come up with that?? what on earth do you mean by ‘would you still love me if i was a worm’ like what?!” & then there’s just girls in the comments sending thoughts nd prayers for his poor soul.

basically, kaneki becomes a whole different person after dating you for just a couple months. he adapts damn near all your habits nd it’s the most endearing yet hilarious thing ever.

for example: say he’s talking about a girl or boy & you give him a nasty look bc.. why is he talking about OTHER PEOPLE?! eventually when you start having story times that include someone else, he gives you the MEANESSSTTTT side eye ever. it’s insane.

& don’t ever ask him about it either. “why’re you looking at me like that?”

“idk, why’re you conversing with people who aren’t me?”

“ken, i have to socializ-”

“says who?!”

not only that, but kaneki is airheaded when it comes to people. like if the man doesn’t like someone or something. it shows all over his face.

one time you guys were out eating, & he thought the waiter was being a lil too friendly.. manz was making the most uncomfy faces ever. 😭

“ken- fix your face?!”

“i’m sorry! i’m trying my best.” you guys both whisper yell.

ken gets a house kitty, & when you’re not home, he makes one of those, “gf isn’t home.. yk what that means.. OPTIMUS PRIME ON THE COUNTER” tiktok’s & thinks it’s so funny.

also, when you’re not home, this poor manchild is so bored.

he could read books upon books in a day & still be dying. it’s not until he hears that front door unlock that he feels freed from the shackles that are his boredom!

ken loves to annoy you, he loves to be around you, he loves to look at you, to touch you, any & everything to do with you- he loves.

not to mention.. he begs you to build legos with him. when you agreed, he made it a whole little picnic date & made sure that the weather would be perfect… he also made you swear to not leave the park until the whole lego set was completed.

kennie baby is soso cuteness.

posting my drafts cuz my brain doesn’t wanna work nowadays. 😫😫😫

#anime #fanfic #kaneki x reader #manga #tokyo ghoul #kaneki ken #headcannons #fluff #tokyo ghoul re #xoti speaks!#xoti writes

71 notes · View notes

dancingbabya-notes · 1 year ago

Text

Quirk malfunctions

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

As anyone else might say sometimes your quirk doesn’t always work the way you intend it unless you train it rigorously, even then sometimes your quirk can mess up or even activate subconsciously.

Characters: Bakugo Katsuki, Kaminari Denki, Shoji Mezo, Aizawa Shouta, Yagi Toshinori

A/N: I'm finally writing something after fighting with my computer for several months and posting it. I will not be disappearing into the oblivion I will be writing whether my brain likes it or not.

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Bakugo

As a new hero you needed to be ready to jump into action at a single call. But as you check your phone again you grumble. “I’m taking a nap someone will call if they need me.”

Though the idea of sleeping on concrete wasn’t entirely appealing you were glad for the pseudo cape on your uniform. Closing your eyes happily under the warmth of the sun, even if it was killing you slowly.

While you slept someone who was actually working happened to land on the roof of the building you were sleeping on, which was just the roof of your apartment. Upon seeing your uniform and you just dozing away Dynamight frowned.

“The hell? Is this the new hero that joined, lazy fucker,” he grumbles to himself before turning to you, unbeknownst to him though your quirk was already active.

As soon as he walked closer the watery tendril wrapped about his hands preventing him from using his quirk, then over his mouth to keep him from waking you up. That would have all good and well if some of the water didn’t brush against your skin sending a chill up your spine and waking you up.

Rubbing your eyes and seeing the glaring red ones you quickly pulled the water away. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Picking up your phone you frown at the message. Dynamight was about to chastise you for falling a sleep on the job when you turned off your visor and walked to the door.

“My apologies senpai it seems I’ve been given a mandatory holiday, have a good rest of your day,” You give a slight bow before walking through the door back into the apartment building. “How fucking fun, let me just almost suffocate my big brother’s best friend. Way to go Y/N!”

Kaminari

Your big brother had been born quirk-less and seemed to acquire a quirk seemingly over night before entering high school, while you had both your parents quirks. Fire breath and attraction of small objects. This was probably the most important thing about you that anyone learned, because that would explain why sometimes you simply looked like a dragon no matter the season because you seemed to be breathing smoke.

“What are you doing?” someone asks in what had been a silent workshop.

“I was trying to fix this,” you frown as the item you had been working on fell onto the open table, with a lot of training you were able to hold things in mid air and hold multiple things at once. “Did you need something?”

Kaminari was someone you only recognized because he was in your brother’s class back in high school. “I uh was just checking if my disk shooters were fixed.”

“Uh well that's not my task so I dunno, you’ll probably need to talk to Ogiwara.” You could see his eyes going wide and you look up to see the hammer that had been on your tool belt floating above you. “Damn quirk.”

Jumping up a bit you pull it back down and frown.

“Sorry I guess I’m not as aware of it as I hoped I was, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shoji

Because of your quirk needing eye contact you did any and everything to get a job where you didn’t need to make eye contact. Office jobs were a bust because your boss would demand it, restaurants were a bust because anyone could make eye contact with you and you wouldn’t know who the last person to look into your eyes was, ultimately you ended up with one of the worst jobs ever according to you brother, at home desk work.

Standing up from your floor desk your back was killing you, and from the warmth of the sunshine from your office window it was warm. “Maybe I could go for a walk? I’m ahead on work.”

Mumbling this you give your puppy a smile as you stand up.

“Hey baby, are you ready for your morning walk?” You ask just as you get dressed in proper outside clothes, the number of times your neighbors have accidentally seen you in your skivvies was far more than you wanted to admit.

The shiba you’d affectionately named Sho –after your big brother, who wasn’t dead he simply pretended not to like dogs– rubs up against your our reached hands giving soft barks in confirmation.

“Let me check how hot it is, we wouldn’t want you to get ouchies,” you giggle.

Waiting inside your apartment Sho watches as you walk to the sun heated ground touching it with the back of your hand. It wasn’t hot and you could walk around if you wanted to.

“Alright, come here baby!” You beam.

Sho already holding his leash rushes up to you closing the door, you smile clipping on the leash before going to lock your door. Just as you do you happen to hear your neighbor leaving his apartment too, you met him when you were in high school a student your brother taught, but now he was just your next door neighbor.

Sho pulls you along excitedly nearly causing you to crash into said person. “Sho heal.”

Just barely you catch yourself before you slam into the solid person next to you, giving a weak smile with your eyes closed you turn your head up a bit. “Sorry about almost running you over.”

“It’s fine y/n.”

Looking back to your dog you sigh. “Hope I’ll see you around.”

“Like wise.”

Though you did chance a little look, sometimes you could just barely look at someone and avoid activating your quirk.

That wasn’t the case because while Sho and you sat at a bench to get some shade you feel asleep. Finding yourself looking through someone else’s mind.

“Fuck.” You mumble trying to figure out if there was a way that you could wake up.

Waiting waiting for Sho to start scratching at you to wake up thought he probably wouldn’t do that, you’d probably have to wash your face when you got home cause he’ll lick you awake. Seeing through Shoji’s mind was different. You knew he was a hero, you just didn’t know he patrolled so close to your apartments.

Returning to your own body you blink a bit.

“This isn’t a very safe place to be sleeping,” he chuckles. “But it seems you have a good companion who’s worried about you.”

Looking down you reach to hug Sho. “I’m sorry baby, let’s go home. Thanks for waking me up.”

He nods giving a slight wave.

Shinso

Understanding any creature that had competent thoughts had its moments. It was basically a cheat skill to you, understanding your fur babies without having to spend thirty minutes arguing with them like your siblings. Milk and Tea sat on your stomach and chest respectively, both being adorable and restrictive to your breathing. “I’d like some space please, can you both sit on my legs instead?” You mumble. You receive two no’s. The thing was your quirk also worked on humans you simply never used it on them. “I gotta go buy food come on!” You urge. They both look at you like they thought you were lying. “It’s good for you.” Both cats jump off you and prance away like the spoiled brats they were. Giving you a moment to both use the restroom and grab your things to go run to the store and buy all that food. “Kitten?” You were so focused on tying your shoe properly that you failed to notice your boyfriend come inside. Shinso stood behind you while you tried to tie his shoes onto your feet, which didn’t work because you both had different shoe sizes. Thinking you heard something you were about to shoo away the cats because you knew it’d be a thirty minute chase if one of those pampered brats got outside. Only to hear. ‘Damn I doubt they’d notice if I poked them.’ More alert but unbalanced you try to move away from your brat of a boyfriend only to tip forward into the door. His eyes lock with yours as he shouts. “Wait!” “What?” Luckily you didn’t hit the door but not you were practically a rag doll into his hold. You hated when this happened. Once righted and able to stand you push him back. “Fuck you, Toshi, I was trying to tie my…” you look down finally realizing whose shoes you were wearing. “Why’d you move my shoes?” “I was tired, it was just on the same shelf.” He shrugs. “You good, Kitten?” “Mm, I’m fine. Also no poking,” you switch the shoes getting ready again. “You read my mind?” “I thought it was the cats.” “You always think it’s the cats.” You frown. “Fine the next time that the Sgt Fluff ball gets out again you’ll be the one to chase him.” “I- You wave with a smile. “I’m off to buy some cat food and dinner. You better tell me what you wanna eat.” You didn’t miss the threatening thoughts from just outside your door swinging it open forcefully. “Oops my bad.”

Aizawa

You were very excited to be working with other heroes your own age for once, not that weren’t thankful for your mentors you just felt like you were learning the same thing over and over from the older pro heroes. At sixteen you dropped out of school and found a hero to intern under, with the concentrated crime rate in your city instead of simply learning how to learn how to be a hero you were basically already a hero the only useful thing you learned was how to cause the least amount of property damage so you could have enough money to support yourself and your little brother. Now you were going to Japan to learn more about being a hero, your agency pretty much forced everyone to visit other countries in a sort of exchange program. But standing in front of other twenty somethings you felt like you’re mind was gonna a short circuit.

“H-hello name hero eh, I mean my hero name is Whiplash. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you, Gracious has nothing but nice things to say about Japan heroes,” You keep your head down embarrassed from the messy introduction.

You could just feel someone staring down your neck before you stood back up, then again you wore a full mask for your protection. “Your form said you already have six years experience on the field…”

Giving a little nod you look at the ground again. “Um while it’d be awesome if stars and stripes could be anywhere there is a problem there are some cities that ave atrocious crime rates.” Not wanting to talk about it again you smile. “I’m curious what hero schools are like though, I heard y’all get direct teaching from some of the best heroes.”

“They’re the same as hero schools in America right?” one young man frowns keeping his face covered with the scarf.

“Eh, I’ve visited the one in my state and that’s only true if you’re lucky enough to get a school with a ton of funding. The schools aren’t government funded they’re funded at a city or state level if anything and any school is lucky enough to get enough funding to keep up with the new regulations every year,” you shrug thinking a little bit about that small experience, you felt a bit angry just thinking about the state of the schools and how people had been treated.

“Whip.”

Blinking a bit you felt the blood drain from your face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It happens sometimes.”

You hadn’t realized you activated your quirk resulting in a small garden growing in the lobby.

“Well the lobby did look a little gray, I’m Eraser Head.” The young man holds his hand to you and you shake it.

“I can pick up the plants but I’ll use my next pay to fix the ground.” you mumble.

He shrugs. “I doubt they’ll know how to fix it.”

Yagi

“It was a bad idea marrying a hero Yagi.” “Shut up.” “He’s what how many years older than you?” “Five? Is that so terrible?” Your so called best friend was scolding you again. For getting married, it wasn’t even because of who you married they just used that to try and make their point seem more valid. You just wanted to work on your throwing, not listen to them complain since they themselves wanted so be married but never found the right person. “Come on he’s got to lack something.” Splashing them with the water you were using to help you work the clay you frown. “Either you change the topic or you know where the exit is Cole.” “Seriously? You’re gonna pick him over me? I thought you were a good friend.” As you pull the piece and their tone starts to irk you you felt your blood burning. They pulled every little transgression that they thought was so terrible when they were all instances you couldn’t help. Feeling then clay slip you stop the wheel and glare. “Shut up and leave!” It came out harsher than you intended. “I hear this enough from my mother now from you?” As you turn away all you could do was shout. This broke then glass divider, your voice wasn’t quite as powerful as your little brother’s bit you always hit that frequency to break shit. Just then your husband walks into the studio. “Oh dear.” “I’ll just see myself out,” Cole states quickly grabbing her things and brushing past Toshinori. You stare at the broken glass in disbelief. “Fuck, fuck.” Curses pour from your mouth as you hit yourself, though your hands weren’t clean so you got slip and clay ill over your face and hair as tears fell. Before you can do any real damage large arms wrap around you. “My dear be careful, we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” “I messed up again,” you sniffle hiring your face into his shirt, why did he always wear white shirts? “Never fear I am here,” he whispers earring a slight chuckle through your sniffing. Hugging him back you frown mumbling into his chest. “What was that my love?” Pulling back a bit so could speak clearly you look up at him with a pout. “I think this time I need to install metal shelving.” “I believe that is the best course of action.” He rubs circles into your back as you bury your face into his chest again. “Guess what?” “What?” “My baby brother got into Yuuei.” “That’s wonderful my love should we send him a gift of congratulations?” You shake your head. “My mom will just throw it away. I’ll give him some spending money and take him the dinner the next time I’m in Musutafu.” Yagi Toshinori or more well know to the public as All might could be a kind man and gentle to his spouse. Not that any one knew he was married.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x reader #kaminari x you #shoji mezo x reader #shoji x reader #shinso x y/n #shinsou x you #shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #yagi x reader #toshinori x y/n

186 notes · View notes

hornkerling · 2 months ago

Text

(The gorgeous art was a commission from leylses, who does not seem to to have an active tumblr any more - if you know where they now live please let me know for proper attribution! )

I have papers to mark, but also the upcoming game has my brain in a vice and I found myself going through my old tags to see where and how I'd left everybody, so I'm bringing back a few of the stories that meant the most to me, inspired by @thievinghippo. I have resisted the urge to re-write this beyond fixing a few of the more egregious fragments and parenthetical asides (damn, I loved a parenthetical, didn't it?). So it is here mostly in all of its old age and earnestness.

Look after each other

Isabela is the love Hawke expects. She is the one shaped to old childhood hopes and the words of all Liadan’s favourite songs, and the world turns to lurching delight and fumbling hope as the two circle each other and stare and glare and smile. Liadan grows wilder and Isabela more centred as they each, in their own way, say: let me in. Let me touch you. Let me love you, at least a little bit. And then just a breath more.

Isabela draws her. Delights her. Lust tangles up between them, the pirate’s hands at her throat, lip caught between her teeth in concentration.

(“I have you, sweet thing. There you are.”)

***

Fenris is different. They rarely look at each other directly. They are too busy, heads bent over books or maps, her words caught between his teeth as she teaches him the silly memory songs that made words stick in her mind.

(“I’m sorry, Fenris,” she tells him, when they have three months of lessons behind them. She is delighted at his progress. It’s better than hers. Better than anything she’s ever seen. She’ll ruin it.

“I forgot how bad I was at this,” she says. “I never learnt well. Just ask Carver. We were both appallingly stupid at this. I—”

“—You,” he says, looking up from his work, hair sticking up from where his hands have tangled, “Are a better teacher than you think.”

Fenris is always surprised when he smiles, the warmth in his face flickering as he realises it’s there.

Liadan is never tired of it. She is never prepared for the answering tug his smiles always call up in her.

They look at each other sidelong, and one of them always looks away first, but there no pattern.

***

Together, all three fight well. Liadan is used to Isabela’s ruthlessness, has learned to use her magic in arcs that the pirate can exploit with a kick or a cry or twin, shining blades. She has learned to spot rare gaps in Fenris’s guard, and let that same magic be as blunt and brutal as the sword in her friend’s hand.

Force magic is ugly stuff that no one expects from the reedy singer with poor eyesight and freckles up her arms. She uses that surprise and feels Isabela’s pride and appreciation. She loves fighting from the back mostly because it means she can watch the others come back to her, Isabela kicking at bottles and pebbles and Fenris grimacing as lyrium fades back into his skin.

(“I don’t want to hurt you,” she’s said more than once. “If the magic is—”

“—It’s yours.” A shrug.

He does not look at her and Hawke wants to force it. Wants to hunker down and tilt his chin up and see. A part of her knows she could use her height for this, her self, to demand understanding, but when she feels that, she also hears Isabela’s voice in her head, and their oldest and sorest and most familiar fight twists up her guts.

“People aren’t problems, Hawke. Sometimes? Just back. Off.”

She holds back, jaw clenched.)

***

When Leandra dies, when every second breath tastes like bile, and my mother is dead repeats as the bass beneath her heartbeat, they are there. Isabela first, kissing the corner of her mouth, warm and scarf askew and never still. She looks at Liadan in all her tired hopelessness and does not turn away, but her eyes are half pleading, half embarrassed.

“I’m not good with this,” Isabela says, and Liadan doesn’t have the words to say I know or thank you. She just lets her head rest on Isabela’s chest, lets herself shake. Laughs a little at the other woman’s small huff of relief that they’ve gone bodied and wordless in the dark.

Fenris is a small knock and heavy step, and Isabela shifts to make room.

(“Are you any better at saying sorry than I am?”

“I…Is anyone?”)

Hawke lets them talk over her. She lets herself feel warm and hopeless and lost and loved and nothing, while Isabela eases her into her lap and Fenris lets one mercifully un-gauntleted hand rest on her hair.

***

She and Fenris do not want each other. Not the same way. They’ve never quite said it—never tugged at the difference between their easy company and the shiver-hope-want of Isabela’s lips on her throat, Fenris’s hands at Isabela’s hips.

They never say, You are my best friend. I love you, and I love that you love who I love. Isn’t it gorgeous? Let’s keep being gorgeous. There is no need. Their voices blend, and in time he reads to her, her clumsy teaching turned beautiful as he shares verse and ghost story and Varric’s latest worlds.

Isabela soars over them both, and catches them both in their laughter.

***

Liadan wonders if she can ever find words all the world’s different sorts of need.

She watches them together. Delights at the catch in her breath, the little, happy flip inside at the sight of Isabela’s scarred, clever fingers twining with Fenris’s over a table at the Hanged Man.

In songs, Hawke knows, she’d be jealous.

She reaches out. Covers their hands with hers.

There should be new songs.

***

“You don’t even like men,” Carver says, wide-eyed and credulous as his ten-year-old self even as he looms over her in Templar armour.

“Well observed.”

“But–”

“–It’s none of your business, little brother.” Liadan smiles at him, rueful and soft. “I know I say that too much, but in this? It’s true.”

Leaving him at the Gallows, her staff a heavy, anxious weight across her back, Liadan worries that she must grow used to the question.

She wonders if, given time, it’ll be easier or harder to squash the urge to punch people in the face.

She chuckles. Easier, she hopes. If not, she’ll need to learn better aim.

***

Liadan is a better sailor than she expects. She’d assumed she’d be terrible.

(“You always assume that, sweet.”

“Hush.”)

Grief does not drift away in the small boat’s wake, Kirkwall’s ashes still clinging to her skin, but it feels like it might. Finding balance is beautiful. She loves the creaks and cries and the strange gurgling noises that sneak into her daily thoughts, the music in her head. She loves the loosening of Isabela’s shoulders. Her strong, heavy body gone light in the rigging as she throws familiar words around in desperately strange ways. Tacking and tying and mainsailing and boarding stars or ports.

Liadan relishes the slow feeling of her world changing, splitting, and making sense.

***

Fenris’s skin burns and darkens. Her own only burns. They both catch themselves staring at the blisters on each other’s hands, and they exchange stories of stars as Isabela steers them toward Minrathous.

“Did you think you’d go back?” she asks.

“Not like this,” he says. “It is–I do not know if it–”

“We’ll help,” Liadan says, hating her own earnestness even as Fenris presses a kiss to her cheek, just above the bone. “You know that, I hope?”

She catches him smiling–more a crinkle about the eyes than anything else.

“You did always say I’d never need to ask you to hunt slavers.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Yes, Hawke.” Fenris murmurs. There is wonder in it.

***

Minrathous almost becomes a home. Isabela grumbles–port taxes are brutal, and harder than most to evade. But there is something astonishing in the decaying finery all about them. Liadan’s songs turn learn new stresses that come in groups of six and sevens and full of unexpected tonal fractions. Isabela finds her a stringed instrument that fits across the lap, and Liadan is lost for hours trying to match interval to thought.

(“I didn’t even steal it, Fenris.” Muttered delight in the corner of a small, dockside room, the sunlight turned thick through bright orange curtains.

“You sound very proud.”

Liadan looks up as they kiss. She lets them get their breath back before she tells them to hush.)

***

They are not always together, of course. Isabela is growing in boats and restlessness. A day in the market for Fenris becomes two weeks in Qarinus, Isabela and Liadan squinting in amazement at his bold, sparse handwriting when he lets them know he is following traces of Varania that pricked at him with hope he is not sure he can bear.

Liadan writes more than songs. Varric’s answers grow thicker and more frequent, paper piling up whenever she has a fixed address,

(“If I knew what dreaming felt like,” Varric writes, “It might be something like this. The red lyrium’s still here. Still other damn places, and it’s not going away, Hawke. I think the years are turning strange on us. Don’t know what that means.”)

***

Merrill visits. She moves through Minrathous with her energies coiled tight, movements too quick and eyes too large. “It’s lovely to see you all,” she says, while Liadan plays the treasured dulcimer and Fenris avoids her gaze and Isabela, face softer than they’ve seen in years, slips an arm about her waist.

“All of you,” she repeats. “Even you, Fenris.”

Fenris catches Merrill’s tiny smirk. It distorts in the wine bottle he has brought out for the peculiar table. Merrill holds her glass. It splashes, thick and near-enough-to-blood that he should, he thinks, be appalled. But he’s chuckling, and when he does raise his head to see those ridiculous eyes on his, they’re warm with surprised approval.

The next day, Merrill asks Isabela a favour.

“Can you teach me how to spit?”

“I’m sorry, kitten?”

“Please,” Merrill says. “Pirates are good at that sort of thing, aren’t they?”

Isabela laughs and complies, Liadan watching with wide eyes at the serious discussions of aim and phlegm and head-tilt.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me, Hawke.”

“Always true.”

“You’re so sweet,” Merrill says, and Isabela’s laugh turns from raucous to soft.

“You are,” Merrill says. “Also, you’re staring a little.”

“I’ve missed you, kitten,” Isabela says.

Liadan watches them. Catches the faint flush growing on Merrill’s face. Knows that swallow of Isabela’s. The small shifts of muscle that say the other woman is trying very hard, just this once, not to touch.

She stands, walking between them to kiss the corner of Merrill’s mouth, smiling as the elf turns her head and lets it slip.

“That’s two of us, you know,” Liadan says. She feels bold and open and scalded as her bravery turns into a blush. “If you like.”

“Sometimes,” Isabela mumbles as Fenris sighs with affectionate exasperation and picks up a book, shaking his head at them, “I really like my life.”

***

Fenris catches Merrill later, small body tense as she stands at the base of the grand imperial library, looking up at the columns and statues of magisters-past.

He wants to pull her back. The urge surprises him, sharp and worried as the pricking on his skin from too many eyes in this public place, the skin too tight over his cheeks at his wrists.

He stares as she spits at the feet an archon. She watches her efforts drip down one enormous, silverite boot, and then turns away.

He catches up to her. They are silent as the crowd opens and swallows them, his shadow careful over hers as she wipes the back of her mouth with a shaking hand.

“I’m not as sweet as they think,” she says, after a while.

“I know.”

“I think you do,” Merrill’s smile is lopsided. “I’m glad I came, of course. It’s been so good to see everyone; it would have been even without–” her blush flares up. Fenris watches as the blood seems to sink back into her skin, markings stark.

“Even without all of that,” she says. “But Tevinter. I hadn’t thought. Not really. Seeing all this knowledge. All this old power, and most of it’s nearly dead, but my people died first. For that mural, maybe. Or that statue. It’s all–”

“–Merrill–”

“–pointless.”

She stops to breathe, glaring at the city-shadows, and Fenris isn’t sure who is more surprised when he pulls her into a rough embrace.

“I do not understand,” he says. “Not fully. But nothing you do is pointless, and there are many reasons for rage.”

Merrill looks at him. He does not flinch when she cups his cheek. They are of a height, her eyes dark and locked with his.

It breaks when she smiles. Her eyes close. He catches small, bright teeth and a half-laughed breath.

“You love them very much, don’t you?”

Fenris squirms,

“Yes.”

“Good,” Merrill says, stepping back. Her hair has grown in the years since Kirkwall. “You’re all very nice together.”

***

“I have to go back,” Hawke says, in the end.

The rift light tinges everything. Their skin and their teeth; the street and the oily water of the port. Even Isabela’s jewellery picks up a layer of corpse green, and Fenris tastes magic at the back of his throat.

“Yes,” Isabela says.

“No,” says Fenris.

They glare at each other, and Liadan holds back a sob.

“It’s her choice, sweet thing,” Isabela says, tugging gently on Fenris’s hair. “She’s a big girl.”

“Varric needs my help,” she says. “And if it is–”

“I cut off the magister’s head,” Fenris says. “I pulled out his heart and cut off his head. We all checked–”

“–Twice,“ Isabela sighs.

“And if Corypheus is still alive,” Liadan says, “Then I’m the one who’s fought him. Feels only right to do it again.”

“You,” Fenris mutters, words thick, “Are a fool about this.”

Liadan sighs. “Please,” she says. “Look after each other.”

“No,” Isabela says.

“Yes,” says Fenris.

The three hold hands as they look toward the end of the world.

#my fic #liadan hawke #isabela #fenris #merrill #ot3 #compersion #a word I didn't even know when I first wrote this in 2016 or so #dragon age worldstate #fenhawkebela #with a brief aside of Fenris and Merrill in furious accord because it's all I've ever wanted

32 notes · View notes