#where I got four of the books in order each month

[ashleybenlove]

I've already read 13 books this year.

4 of them are rereads of The Baby Sitters Club books so like... easy quick reads lol.

[cyripticchronicler]

How Could I Hate You?

Paring: James Potter x Fem!reader

Summary: You’ve hated James Potter for as long as you could remember. However, entering your last year as Head Girl and James as Head Boy, you’re forced to interact with the man you want nothing to do with. What are you supposed to do when you realise he’s not the egotistical jerk you made him out to be?

T/W: None

A/N: It's been way too long!! I've been more into writing poems lately, so I haven't had time for my lovely fan fictions. However, I sat in a forest and listened to the birds sing for a while today and finally gained enough inspiration to finish writing this fic I started a little while ago (this is also my longest fic yet, so go me). I hope everyone's doing well!!

Masterlist James Potter Masterlist

You absolutely hated James Potter. His egotistical smile grated at your nerves like no other, an unhappy frown pulling at your lips every time he was around. Paired with his unserious personality and sickly handsome face, you wanted nothing to do with the man. 

However, fate - or Hogwarts for that matter- had other ideas, and both you and James Potter became Head Boy and Head girl during your last year. 

James Potter barely knew anything about you. He vaguely remembers you during third year, the meek, quiet girl that accidentally fell victim to one of the Maruader’s prank’s, leaving you with half of your hair coloured pink. The half-assed apology you received was nothing compared to the judgmental and amused looks you received in the month it took for your hair to return to normal. 

The ever-loved James had planned to mention this story to break the ice between you both. He was so used to being loved by everyone that he couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face when you merely smiled at his story and kept walking. 

He was not one to give up. “You really did suit the pink,” He jokes, bright, eager eyes looking at you in hopes of seeing just a smidge of a smile. All he got was a fake laugh in return. 

You didn’t hold a grudge against him for the prank he did years ago, but still couldn’t get over the mere audacity this man possessed with each step he took and flirty comment he made. You look over at him from where he walks beside you, head down, hands in his robe pockets. Perhaps you were being too hard on the boy. He’s Head Boy, so he can’t be that bad- “You always take things so seriously, don’t you? It’s no surprise that you’re only friends with boring nerds.” He laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. 

Ouch. Hurt stings your heart, and you attempt to shake it off. Your steps falter for a short moment, but long enough for James to notice. He frowns, worried that he’s hurt you. Before he can backtrack or apologise, you’re already ahead, speaking your first words of the night to a third-year roaming the corridors and ordering them to go back to their dorm. They roll their eyes but comply, and James feels it too late to apologise. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

“Don’t make me go,” You plead like a four-year-old, wrapping your arms around Dorcas’ right arm. She looks up from the book in her hands and attempts to shake you off, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re the one who wanted to be Head Girl. So go and fulfill your duties and patrol with the infamous James Potter.”

“He’s horrible, Dorcas,” You whine, falling down to the floor when she manages to shake you off, a low groan escaping your lips when you hit your head particularly hard. You know you’re being pathetic, but you’re allowed to be when you’re stuck walking with an egotistical teenage boy three nights a week.

“He’s the golden boy with a six-pack and a cute smile. Stop complaining and flirt!” A pillow is thrown at you to emphasise her words, and you groan once again. With a glare sent her way and a huff, you stand up from your spot on the carpeted floor, still staring at her as you dramatically open the door. 

“Don’t have too much fun!” You scoff, turning around to leave and running into the one person you really didn’t want to see. 

James Potter leans against the wall beside the door, a playful smirk playing on his stupidly handsome face. “Not too much fun, hey?” You resist the urge to pull his glasses off of his face and throw them to the floor. 

You hate that you can feel your cheeks start to heat, growing shy at the realisation that he heard what Dorcas said. Avoiding his eyes, you close the door behind you and rush down the steps, trying not to focus on the steps sounding behind you. 

It’s only when you exit the common room that he speaks again. “How are you?” He questions, ensuring his steps match with yours. “Fine.” You bluntly respond. At the awkward silence and the fact you can’t stand being impolite, you coldly ask, “How are you?”

He visibly perks up at your question, raising his head to look at you with his golden brown eyes and million-dollar smile. “I’m good! I’ve been practicing for the Quidditch match this weekend. Are you going to come?”

“No.” You state, folding your arms against your chest and looking ahead. Your shoes clatter against the stone steps, the cool night air hugging your skin. 

“You don’t have to feel bad about going alone. It will still be fun!” He smiles goofily, revealing more of his throat as he looks up at the stars. Your admiration is cut short when you process what he said. “Um…what?”

The way James’s eyes widened would have been almost comical if you weren’t so offended. “That sounds bad. You can bring people, obviously, but I just figured you’d go alone-“

“Do you think I have no friends or something?” You've stopped in the middle of the field, eyes narrowed in accusation. You dig your nails into your arm, focusing on the pain it creates instead of the pain his words inflict. 

“No! I mean - you're just always…y’know…by yourself.” He stumbles, hands raising in defence. Your tongue rolls against the inside of your cheek. “So now I’m a loner?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “No. No. Merlin, can you just listen to me?” At your silence, he continues, “I shouldn’t have assumed that you'd go alone, but can you blame me? You never go out, and I just figured that if you were to go out, you'd be by yourself.” 

The sound of crickets is the only thing that can be heard, an uncomfortable silence thick between you. You take a deep breath and turn your back to him, beginning to walk back to the castle. “I saw a movement in one of the potions classrooms, I’m going to check it out.”

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t, James. Just don’t.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

James Potter’s eyes bore into yours from across the Great Hall, and you’ve never been so grateful for Miss McGonagall as she leads you around the room, pointing at areas in the room. “This year's theme for the yule ball is going to be Winter Wonderland. You and James have two months to decorate this entire hall. I want you two working together on making a wonderfully decorated ball…”

Her words are quickly drowned out by the discomfort bubbling in your stomach. James walks away from where he is, looking around to listen in to what Miss McGonagall is saying. It’s only when she walks away that you finally process your surroundings. “Looks like we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together.” He laughs uncomfortably. 

You guys haven’t spoken since that awkward night two days ago, and he’s unsure how to act around you. “I guess we will.” You lean against the wall behind you, sliding down and sitting on the cool floor with crossed legs. Taking out a pad of paper and some charcoal from your bag, you begin a quick sketch of the room. 

You’re surprised when James sits beside you, stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies. “What…are you doing?” 

He turns to look at you, dimples staring right at you. “You heard her, we’re doing this together.” He’s careful to keep a good distance, and you keep your head down, eyes on the paper in front of you. “I’m just doing a quick sketch.” 

He taps the paper gently. “It’s very good. Do you draw often?” You ignore his attempts at making conversation and instead begin a hopefully short conversation about the decorations. “I was thinking we could have white roses in the middle of each table and maybe this tree archway.” 

He sighs at the change of conversation. “Listen, about the other day-”

“James, we really don’t need to talk about it. I don’t like you, but I can remain professional, and that’s all that matters.” At the defeated, almost frustrated look in his eyes, you can’t help but scoff. “What? Can’t you handle the thought that someone doesn’t like you? As much as people say you are, you’re not all that.” You abruptly stand up and begin walking out the hall, poison lacing your voice, “I’ll send you the list of ideas I have for the ball, and you do the same. We can talk about it more next time you’re free.”

You’re already out of the room before he can utter a word. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

Despite the cruel words you uttered the last time you saw each other, James Potter shows up to your library get-together with a bright smile on his face. “Hello, love. I brought you a cupcake. Red velvet.” He places it on the table in front of you, and you shift your attention from your book to the small, delicious treat. 

“You’re late,” You mutter grumbly. Despite your angry mood, you still slowly grab the cupcake, immediately bringing it to your mouth, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’m sorry. I’m a busy man, y’know?” 

“I’m busy, too, James. We only have ten minutes to go over everything before I have to help this group of first-year students with Potions.” You scowl, rolling your eyes and continuing to eat the cupcake. 

He ignores your words and instead grabs the book you were reading in front of you. “This is a muggle book, is it not? I’ve seen my friend Remus reading this.” You yank the book back and carefully put it into your bag. “Yes, he’s the one who recommended it to me.”

In hopes of reducing personal conversation, you jump straight into talking about the ball. “Now, about the ball. I’ve given the list of things we need to Miss McGonagall. The stuff should arrive next week Monday. We need to figure out what days we’re free to decorate.” You fiddle with the cupcake wrapper, looking down at his ruffled robes rather than his eyes. 

“I’m busy on Saturdays for Quiddich practice, and I’m going to a party on Friday.” He smiles, unbothered by your quiet, grumpy mood. 

“Okay, we can do Sundays and Tuesdays after school. Now, because you showed up so damn late I have to go and we’re going to have to meet again so let me know when you’re free.” He follows you when you stand up, gently grabbing hold of your arm before you can leave. 

He forces you to stare into his eyes, and you’re surprised at the pure sincerity in them. “I’m sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.”

You take a deep breath, overwhelmed with confusion at the fact he apologised. “Okay. I forgive you. Don’t let it happen again, please.”

“Of course.” He doesn’t let go of your arm like you expected, instead, he holds it tighter. “Are you free Friday night? Come to the party with me.”

“I’m not free Friday. I have a date.” 

“A date?” His voice is deep, unfamiliar. You nod awkwardly and pull your arm from his grip. “Yeah, I’m not actually a loner, James.” You laugh awkwardly before walking away. 

You leave him standing there, gaping at your retreating figure.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

You can hear James before you can see him. His loud, heavy footsteps, matched with his obnoxious laugh, is enough to warn you about his presence.

You keep your focus on the task at hand, moving your wand up as you attach decor to the roof. He’s unfazed by your cool attitude, playfully nudging your shoulder. 

“So…” his voice grates at your nerves more than usual, “how’d  your date go?”

Right. The date. The reason for your extra pissy mood this morning. “It was fine.” You hoped he would get the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it, but James couldn’t take a sign if it smacked him in the face.

“Just fine? Tell me about it,” he pestered, gently poking your side, the hand holding your wand falters, the decoration almost falling to the floor. You give up on your task, glaring and beginning to walk away.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Cmonnnn,” his voice raises a pitch and you scowl, “tell me how it went.” He goes to grab your arm, and you move back. You scoff. “I don't want to talk about it.”

His brown, usually playful eyes turn serious in an instant. A crease formed between his brows, and a frown that didn’t suit his usually happy face painted his lips. “Did he do something?”

At the concern and genuine curiosity in his voice, you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, keeping your head down as you whisper, “he didn’t even show.” 

“Oh.” Pink tints your cheeks, and shame curls your spine. “Wel,l it’s his loss. I’m sure he would have had a blast if he went”

You clear your throat and begin sorting through boxes, trying to ignore the lump in your chest. “Yeah, I guess.” He moves to stand next to you, shoulders almost brushing while he sorts things next to you. 

“I mean it.” He turns his head to look at you, and you look back, captured by those swirling brown eyes. “Any guy would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

A shaky breath leaves your parted lips, and you're unsure why his words have such an impact on you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes never broke eye contact. Maybe it’s because he’s standing right under a lamp, and his hair looks golden brown. Or maybe it’s because his words only held sincerity- even longing, if you felt like being delusional. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

James Potter was pointing a wand at your face. 

He was all arrogance as he crept closer towards you, a stupid smirk on his stupid face, his stupid eyes alight with mischief. 

You raise your own wand, the wood cool and familiar in your hands, gripping it tightly. You watch his movements- the way his shoulders tense slightly and his eyes squint a smidge. “Expelliarmus.” His voice rings out, sure and loud. Expecting his attack, you're quick to block the spell. 

You address the crowd without taking your eyes off of the boy in front of you. “When sparring, you want to study the person. Learn their tells.” The group of students nod in acknowledgment, much more interested in seeing who will win instead of learning. 

The Defence against the Dark Arts teacher wanted you and James to come in and give a visual demonstration of sparring for some of the younger students. You were happy to agree, having only dreamed of a moment like this. 

James was making it easy to spar with him: with his cocky comments about how he was going to win and the flirty winks he keeps shooting your way, you were more than happy to get him on his knees. 

“Stupefy,” you mutter, scowling when he shouts a defence spell. “You're doing well,” he smiles encouragingly, “I’m pretty good at sparring and most people would have been on their ass by now.” 

It’s the fact that he seems genuinely surprised at your doing well that sends annoyance travelling up your spine. His ego is bigger than Snapes, Merlin could he be anymore of an ass? 

“Do you want me to go easy on you-“

“-langlock.” He’s quiet in an instant, unable to speak with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Eyes widened in shock, the hand that holds his wand falters, and you don’t hesitate to yell, “Levicorpus.”

The forgotten crowd behind you laughs as an imaginary force holds James in the air by his ankle. “I saw you use this on someone just the other day. How does it feel to be on the receiving end?” Despite the obvious annoyance swirling in his eyes, a glint lightens the caramel brown. 

“It feels rather sickening, I’d admit,” he groans, his head getting redder by the second. You smile at his obvious discomfort. “Do you want me to go easy on you?” You mock, voice lowering in a feeble attempt to match his voice. 

Despite his complicated position, he smiles brightly at your teasing. “If you wouldn’t mind, love.” You point your wand and smile innocently. “Okay.” The loud thud of him falling to the ground is enough to make you smile.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

“She beat me at a duel. Me, James Potter.” His voice was especially loud as he walked around aisles in the library, an amusing look of shock on his face. Remus snorts from beside him, walking towards a particular genre of books. 

“Believe it or not, James, you’re not always going to win. And she’s one of the best students in the school.” Despite James’ whiny tone, his heart was filled with pride. He knew you were a good witch, and he was finally glad to witness first-hand what you were made of. 

“Now,” James catches himself before he completely stumbles into Remus, shooting the scarred man a sheepish smile. “This is the book you wanted, right?” Despite himself, James feels the apple of his cheeks turn red at the familiar book cover in Remus’s hands. 

Merlin, what he’s doing is so dorky and pathetic. But he didn’t like the idea that he knew nothing about your hobby of reading - a hobby you waste most of your days doing. So he forced Remus to come to the library with him, under the guise of wanting to pick up a new hobby. He managed to remember the name of the book you were reading and asked Remus to find it for him. 

Grabbing the book from Remus’s hands, he began walking towards the counter, hoping Remus would return to studying and leave it at that. His hopes were not answered. “I’m surprised you’re getting into reading. It’s never been your thing.”

Recognising the suspicion in his voice, James walks faster. “Just wanted to try something new.”

“Well, it’s funny you picked that book; you know this is a certain Head Girl’s favorite book?”

He doesn’t look back. “Really? I didn’t even know she could…read.” At his mix-up, he comes to a complete halt, shoulders slumping in defeat. He keeps his head down as he mutters, “Fine, I chose this book because she read it.”

“Really? I thought she couldn’t read.” At James’ glare, Remus’ amused expression turns into one of pity. “James Potter is reading for a girl. A girl that beat him in a duel, nonetheless. Do you have a crush?” James scowls despite his pinking cheeks, and Remus laughs gently in response. 

“I do not have a crush. I just think I should be getting to know her more since she’s Head Girl and she doesn’t like me much.” James finally reaches the counter, chucking the dastard book on the counter much too harshly for the librarian's liking, earning a scathing glare that he ignores. 

Remus doesn’t continue the conversation any longer, but the silence does nothing to calm the fast beating of his heart as his thoughts spiral and his breathing becomes uneven. James might just have a crush on you.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

It was becoming harder and harder to dislike James. In fact, you weren’t sure why you were ever angry at him. Sure, he’s arrogant and immature, but right now, all you can think about is the way he’s comforting a crying first-year in the hall, genuine worry coating his actions as he pulls the little boy in for a hug. 

You’re not sure what to do, standing there awkwardly in the hall and shuffling on your feet. You can’t look away; the kind look in James’ eyes is too sincere, his smile is too perfect, and his words are too warm. You’re scared you’re going to melt. 

“It’s okay, bud. They’re mean and cruel, but you’re strong. You stood up for yourself, and that’s pretty great.” You can’t take this side of James. His caring, nurturing side. 

So you turn around and smile awkwardly at one of the moving paintings. Behind you, you can faintly hear James mutter the words, “You’re going to be a great seeker one day,” then some shuffling before a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder. 

You jump and turn to meet James’s amused eyes. “What are you doing staring at the wall, love?” Your eyebrows raise, and your eyes widen, mind whirring to come up with an answer besides the truth. “I just realised I’ve never actually stopped to appreciate the stone walls.”

“You’re an interesting one,” He claims with no real malice. You just laugh awkwardly and keep walking. “Is that first year okay?”

His smile dims at the thought of the young boy. “He’s alright. I promised to take him to Quiddich training one day; he wants to be a seeker.”

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you.” You smile, raising your eyes to look into his for barely a minute before looking away. If you had looked long enough, you would have noticed the pink that travelled up his neck and painted his cheeks, mouth open like a blubbering fish. 

In hopes of looking calm and casual, he strugs off your compliment with an awkward,  “U-u,h it was nothing, really.” You’re not ready to let the conversation end. “No, it was really sweet-”

“I’m reading a book!” 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. James Potter was a stupid, awkward young man - or at least he thought so. You didn’t mind the abrupt change in topic, especially if it was about a book.

Your face visibly lit up, the warm spark in your eyes growing tenfold. “Yeah? What book?”

The casual name drop of your favorite book coming from James’ deep voice has a bright smile taking over your gleeful face. James was too happy to be blinded by such a light. 

“Really?” At his nod, you grip his arm and jump like a crazed woman. “I love that book!” You stop jumping and stare hopefully, wanting to know his every thought about the book you’ve read more times than you could count. 

“Really? I had no idea,” He laughs awkwardly. “The main character is probably my favorite.” It’s only when he starts walking do you remember that you’re still holding onto his arm, awkwardly dropping it at your side. 

“The main character?” He nods. You move your hand to fiddle with your hair. “I…She always reminded me of me. She’s always underestimated because she’s quiet, which I understand, and some of the things she’s gone through reminds me of my own memories- not that I’m saying you like her because she reminds you of me or anything.” 

At your anxious ramblings, James stops, a gentle smile pulling at his plush lips. He moves so his eyes meet yours, and you’re too captivated to look away. “No, that’s exactly why she’s my favorite. She reminds me of you.” 

Your stunned silence doesn’t bother him, and he moves closer, the soles of his shoes touching yours. A large hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re sure that you’re dreaming things when he mutters, “And that guy she’s dating? The captain of the football team? He reminds me of me. Different sport and all, but desperate for the attention of the girl.” 

The whispers of his words graze your cheek, and you’re glad he had pulled away quickly before you did something stupid like kiss him. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ 

You stared at the hall like an artist would stare at their paintings. Everything had come out better than you expected, and you were in awe of the glowing lights that shimmered in the eyes of the happy students as they danced and laughed. 

Your eyes shimmered, but you were void of laughter and dance. No one had asked you to the Yule Ball, and you had no desire to ask anyone yourself. You didn’t mind being alone, you just didn’t like the pitying looks being thrown your way. Dorcas was already lost on the dance floor, and you didn’t want to ruin her night.

So you stood in the corner, smiling at the buzz of happiness that floated across the room. You weren’t alone for long. “Would you care for a dance?” James Potter was clad in a suit, standing in front of you with a playful smirk and outstretched hand. 

A laugh of absurdity broke free from your coloured lips. “Ginny has been looking at you ever since you entered the hall. Go dance with her.” Despite your words, you wanted him to stay. His presence was comforting.

“Ginny and I didn’t work hard for months decorating this hall. Now,” He shakes his outstretched hand impatiently, “let’s dance.” 

You wouldn’t be surprised if the punch was spiked because you lost your inhibitions too quickly for your liking, grasping his warm hand and letting him drag you onto the dance floor. 

With his hand on your waist and the other holding yours, you’re forced to distract yourself from his touch by the band that plays at the front, the slow, deep voice of the singer enough to make you want to fall asleep. 

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and close your eyes. 

“Tired?” The kiss he places on your neck is enough to make you wide awake again, but you still nod.

“I bet you are. You’ve been working so hard lately with the ball and with the test you had today. How did that go, by the way? I’m sure you did great-”

“What are you doing?” You tense under his touch, his words, his hands, all becoming too much. As if sensing your discomfort, he pulls away. “What do you mean?” 

You stare at him for a short moment before your gaze falls to your fiddling hands. “You’re being…kind. I don’t know what to do.”

“Be kind back, maybe?” He attempts to joke but falls short. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time being kind to me, but if I’ve done something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I really do like you.”

Your silence is enough to make him pull away; you grow cold without his touch. 

“I’m sorry.” He stops his quick actions of leaving. “I’m not…I’ve been cold, and I’m sorry. You’re just so…scary. Merlin, the only interaction we had before we became Head Boy and Head Girl was when you turned my hair pink.”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back, guilt spilling out of you in the form of words. 

“It’s just…I judged you wrongly, and I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not an egotistical and mean person. You’re actually really sweet, and it’s playing with my heart. I’m torn between caring for you like I haven’t cared for anyone before and thinking of you the way I always thought of you. 

He reaches for your hands, cradling them gently. “I understand. I’ve only really shown you the arrogant side of myself, and it’s not wrong for you to assume I am otherwise. It’s just much easier to talk to a pretty lady when I feel like I can make her mine.”

“You could have any girl in the school, and you know that.” He shakes his head at your words, the sound of laughter fading behind you as he leads you away from the hall, down corridors and through doors until you’re both outside, the moonlit glow hugging you like a baby’s blanket.

He tightens his grip on your hands and utters with a small smile, “I couldn’t have the only one that really matters because I messed it up when I dyed half her hair pink.”

You scoff and avoid his eyes. “You could have me.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Just don’t break my heart.”

“To break your heart would be to break my own. Why would I want to break something that I care for so deeply? That is worth the gold of millions of men?” He falls to his knees in front of you, hands gently gripping the fabric of your dress, looking up at you with eyes filled with more passion than a writer writing a romance. 

You let yourself breathe in the cool night air, the cold spreading against your flushed skin. “I’m scared. You’re too good for me, James. Too good for me.” Despite yourself, your shaking hand moves to cup his cheek. He places a long kiss on your palm, never breaking contact with your misty eyes. 

“Why would you say that, my love? You have so much courage. So much power and kindness.” At your silence, he slowly raises, never wanting to be separated from your touch as his hands move to your hips and his head falls to the crook of your neck. 

Your hands fall to his head, playing with his soft curls. You look up at the ceiling and sniff as a lone tear falls down your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so rude when we first met.”

“And I’m sorry for turning your hair pink.” His breath tickles your neck. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

You can barely get the words out before his lips are against yours, gentle and warm and right where you want them to be. 

[luvergirl-535]

something like love

part - 7

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 10.7k

c/w - language, drinking/smoking, 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, 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, dimple 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 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. “What’re you 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 got so drunk that Azzi even 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 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 palm 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 her hand travels higher, 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 heard 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 the 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 absolutely 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 about this cool. 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 barely 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 again higher on her cheekbone, then to the spot beside her ear, and now 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 begin 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 nicely 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 a handful of them, all circled up and pressed together on the living room floor while people party around them. “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 bottle of 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 mighta 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 gave the best 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, like, 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 her, cluelessness and all. “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 get back into bed. She’s holding something square and bright purple 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. She takes the joint and it 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, handing the blunt over. “What? You’re not the only one who had a hoe era.”

“Didn’t hear too much about yours,” Paige mumbles, smoking and then giving it back, 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 it back. “Were you being for real? Earlier?”

Azzi closes 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, hands uncoordinated as she hands the blunt back. “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 too groggy to be 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, before 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 for the first time, 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 her’s since the day they met. Maybe, years ago, 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. “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 that 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 each 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 is 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.

“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. “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 her 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 bit 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 smiles 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. “Might have to fuck it outta you.”

Azzi nearly whines at the mere thought, and then Paige spreads her legs wide 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’s 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. “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 legs 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 Paige.

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 arms 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, reaching down and 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—hair tossed over one shoulder, tits rising and falling, abs clenching against the pleasure in her 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, 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, thighs clamping 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 close her thighs. “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 here, naked and spent, while Paige is still fully clothed and untouched.

“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 named 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 😼

[lllivia]

I could help you

Ellie Williams x f!reader

Summary: Ellie helps you out 😛

Warnings: smut, non apocalyptic scenario, cocky (slightly loser) Ellie, top!Ellie, bottom!reader, frustrated!reader, NOT proofread

It had only gone four out of the six weeks the doctor had ordered for you to have your cast on - and you were already feeling like you were about to rip it off with your bare hands (which of course was impossible). What luck was it that the one fucking time you felt like skating without a helmet, you had skidded over some tiny little pebble and in an attempt to break your fall - breaking your wrist instead.

It was so hard to do quite literally anything when your dominant hand was all bandaged up, but by far one of the worst things was the masturbation. God, it was so frustrating, it seemed like any little thing could set you off at this point after going so long without a release.

You had tried getting off of course, but it only ended up hurting you more than it giving any sort of measurable pleasure, which only built up the sexual frustration that was at this point running 24/7 through your veins.

-

"Soo what d'you wanna do now?" Ellie smirked up at you from where she sat on the floor, just having beaten you for like the 7th time in the row in street fighter - which she claimed was all because of her pure "talent"x and not because you had a useless hand that couldn't help you make any proper combos.

"I don't know - you tell me, it's not much I can do with this fucked up wrist that doesn't cause me any pain" you sighed and layed back down onto your bed, pissed that the broken bone once again came in your way of doing anything fun.

"Alright.. How about we play some truth or dare?" She chuckled, standing up to sit next to where you lay, immediately getting comfy on the familiar blankets.

"What are you, ten?" You couldn't help but laugh - you hadn't played truth or dare since like early high school. But Ellie only raised her eyebrow at you "Have any better idea ms. "I can't think of anything to do"?"

And ig she was right, there really wasn't anything. "Okay okay you got me" You smiled, never able to resist your best friends pretty face.

"I'll get you to spill all of your deepest and darkest secrets" she wiggled her eyebrows ridiculously as if you didn't already tell eachother basically anything. "So, truth or dare."

You thought for a second - she wouldn't make you do something really stupid, would she?who we're you kidding, she totally would.

"Truth I guess" you answered hesitantly, slightly nervous about what she might ask.

"Umm when was the last time you finished a book" she asked, clearly not having thought as far as to get to the questions.

"Seriously dumbass, you don't have anything better than that?" You laughed and slapped her knee, unbeknownst to you making her grin just with your closeness. "Your turn then.. Truth or dare?"

She shrugged "Dare, obviously. I'm not a wimp" her smirk showing off her white teeth as you playfully hit her again.

"Fine, you have to text the last person you ghosted and tell them you need them" It was your turn to smirk as Ellie's face dropped, both of you knowing exactly who she had to text.

"You asshole! You know it was Dina, I can't just message her now after like 4 months" Ellie grimaced, the memory of when she suddenly stopped texting the girl back now fresh in her mind.

"I didn't say I would play fair" the laugh escaping you sounded down right sinister as you watched the brunette pick up her phone and send the text before slamming it down again on your mattress.

"Your turn, and don't even think I'm gonna play nice now" she had moved closer in the excitement, your bodies almost pressing against each other - which neither of you felt like commenting on. Not wanting to ruin the chance of being so close.

Worried she was going to make you do something absolutely humiliating you couldn't help with going for what you thought was the easy way out again. But oh my were you wrong. "Truth."

"Are you fucking kidding me y/n! You're such a pussy" Ellie groaned before widening her eyes at the perfect question.

"Well it's not in the rules that I can't choose truth two times in a row" you cheesed, pure smugness dripping off your tone.

"When's.. The last time you jacked off?" She smirked proudly, enjoying the embarrassment that quickly embraced your face.

"What the actual fuck Ellie, you creep!" You gaped, once again punching her leg.

"Ow - Well, you have to say it. It's the rules!" Your best friend laughed loudly while throwing her head back. She had for sure gotten the reaction she wanted after her last dare.

You thought about it for a moment before rolling your eyes "ok fine.. I guess about like 4 weeks ago" looking away your cheeks started burning hot, there was definitely some kind of unspoken boundary that just got crossed. "But it's only because of this stupid useless hand that I can't fucking get off!"

Well shit, you had definitely said too much now.

It was Ellie's time to gape now, her mind starting to race at the simple sentence.

All she could think of doing was licking her cracked lips and blushing before thinking of something to say. "I could.. Help you? Yk.. If you want."

You almost laughed straight in her face. There was no way she was being serious right now, what the hell did she mean by helping you?

"..What?" Your almost squeeky voice sounded out, unable to stop the warmth pooling into your lower belly at the situation that was happening right in front of you.

"I could get you off" her body was fully turned towards you now, she couldn't even believe herself for being so bold. God, she hoped this wouldn't ruin the perfect relationship you already had.

"Okay" you answered breathely, you legs unknowingly starting to rub against each other slightly - something that didn't go unnoticed by Ellie.

"Okay?" Waiting to confirm what she thought she just heard, she could almost feel herself twitching in anticipation.

"Okay" you laughed breathily, what was happening right now.

Ellie didn't waste any more time, and practically jumped your bones on the spot. She didn't waste any time on formalities and crawled down your body until she reached your pajama pants.

"You're so pretty" she looked up and smirked "but you'd be prettier without these" she plucked at the band of your pants before letting it snap back into place.

"You're so fucking corny" you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the fact that you were basically already dripping in arousal.

"Whatever you say" her eyes never leaving you as she slid the pants down your smooth skin, however many times she had seen you change could never compare with the feeling that embraced her now while actually being the one stripping you down.

All that was left on your lower body now was your underwear, which Ellie felt the strange want to rip off with her teeth - oh how many times she had imagined you under her like this. Restraining from the action she looked up at you once again as to double check that what she was doing was alright, before finally removing your panties in a haste.

She stopped to stare for a second, taking in your beauty in case this was the one and only time she would ever do this. "You're so pretty baby, might have to break your wrist more often" You rolled your eyes playfully - even when you were basically trying to hump her face and whimpering in need.

"C'mon Ellie - just fuck me already" you breathed as she took her time viewing and kissing your thighs.

"Alright alright, no need to beg baby. I'm right here, I'll help you."

And she finally did. Her tongue gleefully licking through your already soaked folds as she held you down while you writhed. "God, you taste so good" she moaned, using two fingers to rub up and down your pussy - enjoying the slick that quickly covered her digits.

But as much as she was enjoying the look of pure need and desperation in your eyes while she slowly teased you, she couldn't hold on for long before she pushed the two already lubed up fingers into you.

You immediately squeezed around her and gasped, fuck, no warning? But the slight sting from the stretch dissipated almost immediately as she started curling her fingers into you, her tongue simultaneously tracing figure 8s on your throbbing clit.

"S-shit Ellie!" Wow, you hadn't noticed how much you needed this until it was actually happening. And the fact that it was Ellie - your literal best friend and crush, that leading you towards your forthcoming orgasm was reeling you closer and closer to the edge faster than you had ever managed to do with your own fingers.

"Huh, you like that?" Her pace never slowed before she decided it was time to add a third finger, loving the feeling of you squeezing around her.

"Yes, yes! I needed this so bad" your high pitched voice sounded out while you painted for air, aggressively using your one good hand to grab onto Ellie's hair and pushing her closer to you - not even noticing as she whimpered slightly at the feeling.

"You gonna come? I mean shit, y/n, I can literally feel the way you're suffocating my fingers" She chuckled and sped up a bit as she talked.

"Mhm - yeah I'm gonna come" it seemed like the only thing in the world that was real was Ellie as she flicked her tongue one last teasing time against you.

A pleasure better than you'd ever felt crashed down all at once, almost drowning you. The warmth of Ellie's tongue never disappeared while your orgasm lasted, the girl on top of you never letting up until you were a twitching mess against her, weakly trying to push her away while whimpering lowly.

When you finally felt as though you could speak again you looked over at her already staring form, her face having a tiny blushing smile adorned all over it as she looked at you.

"Was that good?" Even after she had made you experience the most jaw dropping experience of your life she still had the nerve to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes dumbass, that was literally the best orgasm I've ever had" you grinned and layed back, closing your eyes - if you could just stay in this moment forever you would, resting as Ellie hummed and traced tiny hearts onto your bare stomach.

Well, that was so much better than playing some stupid video game.

-

a/n: I'm writing this at 1 in the morning so excuse if it's a bit wonky - ALSO SEND REQUESTS PLS, I'M OUT OF CREATIVITY 😪🙏

MAIN MASTERLIST

[thanyatargaryen]

Surprise My Love

Ok I'm trying to do this for the first time because I'm not used to creative writing and if you see this and you have any ideas please let me know.

Rating: PG

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

You have been in LA more often creating content for your Youtube channel and you started hearing rumors in social media that you were dating an older man. At the same time the heartthrob Pedro Pascal was seen more often in LA spending time with a secret someone. The situation spiked the paparazzi lenses taking pictures of him talking with someone in a coffee shop often or having secret encounters with a person in secluded restaurants.

Funny enough, you were indeed dating an older man... Pedro Pascal whom you met a few months ago at the announcement of The Fantastic Four: First Steps at San Diego Comic Con. You were recording and interview for your channel since you had an agreement with Marvel for promotion. The situation was funny since you both were able to jock around and the vibe was so carefree even after the age difference. The vibe was in high levels between you to that even Vanessa Kirby noticed and invited you to the after dinner event and that how it all started.

Throughout the night you were talking about everything and nothing with Pedro. The conversation was so light hearted talking about your childhood in your home country and his childhood and how he used to go to the movies with his dad, living with his siblings mostly Javiera. His jobs and the first time you saw some of his work, the books both like to read and the movies you watch to disconnect from the world. Even after dinner you kept talking outside the restaurant and he asked your number to keep in touch. You could feel the cold breeze of the sea near the restaurant and your cheeks getting hotter by the second as you took your phone and exchanged numbers. You saved your number on his phone with your name and he being cheeky saved his as Z. Pascal which you knew what it meant and made you giggle. Pedro offered to take you home or order a cab for you but you declined since you had parked your car at a nearby hotel.

After that, you exchanged numbers with Vanessa with whom you had a great connection throughout the interview and dinner. She was asking question about your work as content creator and how it all started with your youtube channel. You explained how you had always wanted to do content creation and how much it took you to actually take a leap of faith on yourself and actually do it. She was amazed on your trajectory from being a student and all the work you did with your family and as a university teacher while taking classes making life a bit harder. She was amazed and asked what was to do in San Diego you gave her a list and she was interested in many places to visit.

Time ran out and you all ended your night around 2 am as the valet got your car you were playing with your phone and a text came through "Are you free tomorrow night?" P. It made you smile and right at the moment you were going to answer your car arrived. You got in after giving a tip to the valet and fixing your seat. The car felt warm but it wasn't the car it was you feeling happy after the text. As you start driving you make the call answering "I'm free after 5 pm tomorrow" :) and that was how you got your first "date".

It was a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant where he as staying, a sushi bar and you got to talk even more about what you do and what you like to do. The date was full little touches on each other, knee, hand, shoulder, arm you name it. the night ended around 10 pm. "I appreciate you taking the time to have dinner with me, even though I'm not often on the west coast I would like to keep talking if you feel like it." You were completely surprised and over the moon you took a big gulp and looked at him "I appreciate the invitation, i had a great time and I hope we keep talking too. If you ever want to come to San Diego i can be you and your family's personal tour guide." He closes on you and kisses your hand like a gentleman "I will take that offer for sure and i hope to see you after we come back from filming."

"Are you going straight to filming after the con?"

"Yes we are going to Spain as i finish a few things for Gladiator "

"Wow well i hope to her from you soon and take care it was an amazing and beautiful dinner."

"I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the night because i did too." Right at that moment your car got to the valet, Pedro opened your door and waved goodbye.

Months passed and at this point you were biting your nails at the airport on your way to Malta to visit Pedro. It was your first time doing something so crazy as this. You could see a few people walking around and a few groups of teenagers and college age people looking at you. Out off nowhere you feel a hand on your shoulder and they as "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you but i was was talking with my friends and we think you look like this Youtuber that does interviews to people from Hollywood and things like that..."

"OH! Yes it's me." that answer brought a group of 15y/o asking for a group pic when you hear your flight getting called for second time which was a bad thing. The group was going nuts that if they wanted individual pics or group. "Why don't we ask someone to take a picture with your phone and then i reposted on my stories... it will be nice to have it before i get into the plane." That is when they all agreed and someone took the picture, at least 20 teens were scattered on the floor and smiling which made you happy since it was your job that brought so many people together and this is proof of it.

After the picture gets taken the last call comes through and to take the people and run to the plane almost not making it. I that's weird to think that since you had been at the airport 3 hours prior to your flight. You were nervous about how impetuous this decision was for you. After talking with John (Quinn) and getting the surprise for Pedro this was the only way the surprise could happen. You apologized to the flight attendants for the delay and go to your seat, the crew makes all the safety checks and talk to the passengers. Straight after that you get your earbuds on and try to forget not to be anxious for 16 hours. You started watching a show on netflix for a few hours, then a 1 hour nap and then read your book for the last 4 hours of your flight arriving to Malta around 1:30 pm.

It took about 30 minutes to get through customs and pick up your luggage since you had done customs online at the kiosk after you got off the plane. By 2 pm John had a car waiting for you and when you get picked up the jitters start on your belly. While arriving to the hotel you get a note from the people at checking it is from John "We are having lunch and the car that picked you up will take you there" Johnny Boy. Giggling you get taken to your room where you change your clothes to a nice flowy dress and flats. You run to the elevator and down to the car where the driver took you to that little restaurant near the beach. John had sent a text with his location for you to find them easier when you arrived. The driver gets to the main entrance of the restaurant and the hostess takes you to the main path towards the isolated tend where Paul, John, Pedro and Fred were eating.

You were so happy to see Pedro even from afar, you saw John taking a selfie and what bette moment to surprise him than with a hug. You sneaked up on the small group and stood behind Pedro. He was weird out because he could smell your perfume and that's when you lean into him and whisper "Hello General." Pedro is speechless and all the guys are taking pictures, he stands up and hugs you tight while you wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him. "This is indeed a good surprise my lady."

I hope you like it and please let me know what else i could do to improve my writing.

[moonlight-prose]

THE WAY YOU SAY GOODBYE

a/n: i have been watching way too much hart of dixie lately and well wade is basically just hangman in a different font. don't try to argue cause you know i'm absolutely right. so i spawned this drabble out of my head as if i were summoning a demon. enjoy my hangman girlies.

summary: if there's a way to say goodbye that has been noted in the history books, hangman will find a way to master it.

word count: 1k+

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

warnings: semi-explicit, kissing that borders on tongue fucking, he's nasty with it, cocky hangman, spit, again i say he's nasty with it.

Looking up the definition of the word goodbye would come with an endless amount of definitions and explanations. All in varying languages, with meanings so deep they grew like the roots of a tree. Embedding themselves in the earth with life of its own.

The way Hangman said goodbye wasn’t one of those.

He was assured, cocky, and genuinely believed he was God’s gift to this earth. You could see it with how he leaned against the pool table, his legs spread, lips pulled into a you know you want to fuck me smile. And the thing was…you couldn’t deny it. You did in fact want that. You had that. Four hours ago at the crack of dawn when he found his way back into your bed after a run and a shower.

Of course the others around would voice their displeasure and intense disgust if either of you brought it up. So you stayed silent. Sipping a coffee as he argued with Rooster over who had the bigger dick. Or something of that manner. You weren’t entirely focused on the conversation, your eyes fixated on the way his uniform pulled taut across his shoulders.

You were pretty sure that if you peeled the layers of fabric away, you’d find the imprint of your teeth in the muscle of his right shoulder.

Part of you was tempted to search for it. The other part had yet to notice he had stopped talking altogether, his attention on the only thing that mattered. You and your dreamy haze of love.

If he had the time he’d drag you to the bathroom, but everyone was already starting to pack it in for the morning. It would be a long day of training, of listening to the same orders over and over, of picking fights with one another until their patience ran thin. And all he wanted was to say goodbye to you properly. In a way that he’d feel each time you crossed his mind.

“You want a ride?” Fanboy asked, digging his keys out of his pocket.

He nodded. “Yeah thanks.”

“Let’s head out boys.” Phoenix shoved her arms into the leather jacket she’d brought even though the weather outside was warm enough to sunbathe.

He found his mind wandering to the image of you doing just that.

“Alright,” he sighed, standing tall as he reached for the jacket on the back of his chair.

You smiled as he sauntered over to you, his hand gripping your waist as he tugged you to stand up. “You’re going?”

He sighed as if you’d asked him the hardest question to exist. “Yeah. I’ve gotta go baby.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

The soft smile that crossed his lips was enough to have your heart racing. “I’ve got a new bottle of wine, some new desserts to try out.”

He smiled, his hand sliding lower as you listed out a few other things. Some which you had to say softly, lest you bring the wrath of the others. You’d been in that predicament before; you didn’t necessarily want to go back. At least not for a few months. Getting caught at the rocks by the beach was bad enough. Getting caught by Rooster, Phoenix, and Coyote was worse.

Although they couldn’t deny it, they were much happier seeing Hangman in a relationship than out of one.

“We got to go man,” Fanboy said, nudging Payback to get up from where he sat. “I don’t want to get stuck doing extra push ups when your asses make me late.”

Jake chuckled, his eyes dropping to the way your tongue slid along your bottom lip. The idea of dropping in when he got lunch was appealing enough to hold him over for a few hours. At least then he could show you what he’d been craving to eat since this morning.

“Gentlemen. Phoenix. You might want to avert your eyes. I’m about to kiss my woman goodbye.” The groan from behind was enough to set you off in a fit of giggles, your hand sliding into the base of his hair. “C’mere sugar,” he mumbled, grasping the nape of your neck.

To say Jake Seresin invented the art of saying goodbye was an understatement. He made bidding farewell dirty, debauched, and so filthy so as to solidify that moment in your mind for the rest of the day. His tongue slid into your mouth, a soft moan at the taste of your coffee being pressed into the searing kiss, as he tugged you even closer. The breath was knocked from your lungs with each lick into you and you began to wonder if maybe he was thinking of something else entirely.

That only made you grip onto his hair tighter, pulling him close enough to feel the way his hips shifted forward. Not enough to draw attention from the others. Yet you felt as if he was grinding into you without a single item of clothing on.

“That’s disgusting!” Rooster shouted from across the bar.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. Spit spread slightly down your chin, his teeth digging into the plush skin of your bottom lip, and you felt your knees begin to buckle. Even as he gripped your ass tight enough to leave a phantom touch behind.

He made sure you’d feel him all fucking day.

“Mm,” he hummed, his grip growing tighter. “Your coffee tastes delicious baby.”

You laughed. “You want some?”

“I gotta go,” he mumbled, kissing you again as he licked even deeper into your mouth. His sharp inhale the cause of your heart stuttering.

“So go,” you breathed. “I’m not stopping you.”

He smiled. “Liar.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Or what?”

Twisting his hair between your fingers, you tugged his head back slightly. Earning you a soft grunt you felt in the base of your stomach.

“Or I find something else to occupy my night.”

“Noted Mrs. Seresin.” He snuck your mug out from behind you, stealing a sip as you hung on him—addicted to his mere presence.

You smiled, biting into your bottom lip as he cleaned you up with his thumb. “I’ll see you later Mr. Seresin.”

“Oh yes you will,” he murmured, stealing a chaste kiss as he swung his jacket over his shoulder. “You can count on it sugar!”

[sturniqlo]

A BROKEN PROMISE- MATT STURN

summary: matt and y/n have been a long distance couple for five months ever since matt moved to LA with his brothers, the two grow distant and decide to part ways, promising to wait for each other. when he eventually moves back, he sees that she broke the promise

cw: break up, cursing, angst

an: when i thought about this idea my heart instantly ached this y/n is def not my favorite | lowercase intended | very short

masterlist

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

before

"hi matt, how's LA been so far?" y/n props her phone up on a perfume bottle as she paints her nails, looking up to see matt's face on her phone. "very good, although it's very hot here. how's home? have i missed anything?" this was the first time they had called, the last week had been very busy for them, matt with unpacking and settling into his new home, y/n with work. they would send quick messages whenever they had the chance. the time difference was their enemy.

"nothing much, nate got his new car and i got a raise at work." she shrugs, dragging the nail polish bristles up her nail. "that sound nice, has work been hard lately?" matt asks, staring at his girlfriend who's on his phone but, on the other side of the country. "don't get me started," she giggles looking up at her phone. "my boss, you know, usual sweetheart, has been a pain in the ass. we have more reservations than usual and she's been so- ugh!" she groans at the thought of it. "you? have you settled in yet? you'll have to send me a house tour, i love watching those." matt giggles, recalling all the times he's watching house tours on youtube with her. "the place is still a bit bare- nicks room is coming along but, mine and chris' not so much but, i will definitely film a house tour just for you, babe."

they stayed on the phone for three hours after that, catching up on everything and planning when she will go down and visit them. "it's almost one am here, i have work early in the morning. i'll try and call you tomorrow, yeah?" y/n walks into her bathroom, about to get ready for the night. "oh, i forgot about the time difference, but totally, i'm sure i'll pick up." he sighs, not wanting to hang up. "okay, i love you. and i miss you so much." she pouts. "i love you more and miss you very very much."

it had officially been three months since matt moved to LA temporarily. the communication between the couple had been the most active this month. usually they only called about two to three times a week but, this month they'd call four to five days out of the week two to three times each day. everything was great, they thought, they talked more, texted more, and had dinner dates over facetime. "what'd you order for dinner?" y/n asked matt who was sitting at his desk. "my usual, taco bell. you?" he asks back, turning the volume up on his laptop to hear her better. "mexican, from the place by my house." she fixed her laptop on her bed feeling upset to break the news to matt. "i have some bad news, babe." she frowns.

"what's wrong?" he furrows his eyebrows, scooting his chair closer to the desk. "i won't be able to fly down in two weeks, when i tried to ask for the week off my boss said we're really booked and busy with reservations and events so she won't be able to give me the week. and i tried to convince her but, she gave me a firm no." she stares at matt's upset face. "really?" he said sadly, he had already planned a whole itinerary for the week she'd be here. "i'm sorry, i know we were looking forward to that week." she chipped her painted nails. as much as the sad tension was there, they tried to ignore it and enjoy their online dinner date.

two months had gone by and calls went from three times a day to two times a day to one time a day and to once a week. they were back where they started. y/n had been pretty upset at it. the one time she wasn't as busy with work, matt's schedule was booked. he was either filming with his brothers, filming a collab, at meetings or hanging out with friends. she wanted to call it off. matt had also realized the distance between them. he realized how he wasn't putting her first anymore and was busy on other things. he decided to call it off on their weekly call. "can i talk to you about something?" he turned the call off speaker and fixed the phone to his ear. "sure." she said. "i- as much as i hate to say this but- i don't think this is working anymore. the distance- it's, it's become a problem. i mean we rarely talk on the phone anymore. the most we text is when we wake up and don't speak until we're getting ready for bed." he sighs.

she's quiet for a few moments. she saw it coming. she had also thought about calling it quits but, never had the urge to. "matt," she sighs, sitting up from her bed. "i want to say that i haven't thought about breaking up but, truth be told i have thought about it. everything you said is right. we never talk anymore it's like we only talk when we remember we have each other, almost like- almost like it's forced at this point." she tries to fight back her tears. it's quiet between them. "so this is it?" he break the silence. "i guess so, for the time being." she says quietly, sniffing. "promise that we'll wait for each other? i- i'll make it up to you once i move back home, okay?" his voice cracks a bit. "okay, okay, yeah. i promise." y/n tries her best to think of it as a positive. "don't be stranger, matt."

after

the first time matt saw her with him was when he clicked on one of their mutual friends story on instagram. it was a the view of a party hosted by one of their other friends. when the camera panned to the right, there she was. holding a cup in her hand, laughing and smiling at whatever he was telling her. at first matt didn't think anything of it. she was allowed to have friends who were the opposite gender, as did he. plus, they have broken up for a couple of months at this point. yet, the reminder of the promise lingered at the back of his head.

the second time happened when nate, a friend of theirs, was at a party. over the months nate told matt how after the couple broke up she stopping hanging out with him and only saw her at parties or at the grocery store. however, at the party he was walking around and spotted y/n he was going to go greet her until he saw someone wrap their arms around her and place a kiss on her neck. he gasped, thinking about matt and how he has no knowledge of this. although it wasn't his business, he stayed quiet until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

from matt

hey, what are you doing?

to matt

just got to a party, you?

from matt

nothing much, sitting at home

sounds like fun! is she there?

to matt

yeah i just saw her

from matt

is she with anyone?

nate sighs leaning against a wall, not wanting to break the news.

to matt

yes..

from matt

oh

matt was heartbroken to say the least. what about the promise? he thought. did she not care about him anymore? or is she just hanging out with someone as a friend? he tried to get rid of the thought and tried to think positively. she's waiting for me. he thought. only a couple more months and he's moving back home. just six more long months.

the triplets couldn't find a time to visit home. their schedules was jam packed, it was meeting after meeting, video after video and collab after collab. he was tired, both physically and mentally. luckily they only had two more months in LA. he paced around his room, should he or should he not? the question lingered. i should. he made up his mind. matt picked up his phone and looked for the contact who was metaphorically collecting dust in his contact list. pressing on y/n name, he brought the phone up to his ear and waited for her to pick up.

"sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable." he hears the sound of the automated machine instead of the familiar soft voice. matt's heart drops. maybe her phone got stolen and she had to get a new number? he tries one more time. maybe it was a glitch. he clicked it again. "sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable." he's yet met with the same automated voice. "what the hell?" he dropped his phone onto his bed and ran his hands along his face.

the two months had went by faster than a blink of an eye. they did one more walkthrough of their empty LA home before their uber arrived. all of their furniture was fairly new so they decided to donate it all. they shipped most of their valuables and clothes back home and were going to be flying with only a suitcase and bookbag. they couldn't be more excited about going back home. when the lease was about to end, they decided that LA was not the place for them and wholeheartedly agreed to move back home to boston.

at home, the one person he thought about was y/n. would she be excited to see him? of course she will. they promised that they'd wait until matt got back. he couldn't wait to make it up to her for the time he had been gone.

tonight, the triplets and nate were going to a party hosted by one of their high school friend. matt had a feeling y/n would be there and he couldn't wait to see her. he put on the flannel that she really loved and the cologne that she had bought for him and had it shipped to his LA home. entering the party, nick, chris and nate went to mingle around while matt stayed back in hopes of seeing y/n. as he walked towards the back of the house, he saw her. once he spotted her and made his way to her, someone stepped in and kissed her. matt stopped in his tracks and felt everything around his stop.

when they pulled back from each other. y/n felt someone staring at her and she looked around and saw matt standing a few feet away from her, a heartbroken look on his face. he was wearing her favorite flannel. "i'll be back." she told her now boyfriend. matt quickly turned around and headed straight to the front door, y/n in heels couldn't keep up. she saw him exit through the front door and sped up a bit, outside, the air was chilly. she she wrapped her arms around herself. "matt, wait!" she saw him walking toward the sidewalk.

she caught up to his and grabbed him arm. "i- i can explain, matt." he rolled his eyes. "i saw enough, i don't think you have to explain yourself. you broke our promise." he tried to walk away but she grabbed his arm again. "matt, what the fuck was i supposed to do? you were across the fucking country! i couldn't put my life on hold and wait for someone, i had to move on." she argued. "but you promised, y/n! you fucking promised. i tried not to believe that you would do something like this the first time i saw you with him on someone's story!"

"you never called after we broke up! you never texted!" matt scoffed. "you changed your number, don't you remember? i tried to call you months back but the call didn't go through." she furrows her eyebrows. "i didn't change my number." she says. "well then you blocked me- it's whatever, you've clearly moved on, i don't think you'll need my number anymore." he walks away and y/n doesn't have the energy to grab him again.

"matt." her voice quivers, on the verge of tears. "you broke the promise, y/n. i- i cant anymore. i'm sorry." he turns to look at her before walking away.

[w2soneshots]

I’ve missed you -W2S

words: 0.9k+

warnings: none.

summary: Harry comes to pick you up from the airport after a week with your family in Norway. Then he brings you to dinner with his friends to meet them for the first time.

notes: this fic was based off of this request!🙂 I hope you enjoy my lovelies💗🫶🏼

I met Harry four months ago. We immediately hit it off and have been together ever since. We're still in the early stages of our relationship, so I'm yet to meet his friends. Last week I left to go and see my family in Norway, which is where I've lived my entire life until last year when I moved to London. Me and Harry have spent most of our time together these past few months so it was really weird not seeing him for a week. Though we face-timed every night and I was constantly texting and sending pictures to him.

Today I'm flying home. My dad dropped me off at the airport and with one final hug we said goodbye. I checked in, went through security and was soon sat on the plane waiting to take off. I made sure to text Harry that I'd be landing in around two hours, since he insisted on picking me up. I listen to music and read for the entire time, so before I knew it we were landing.

I walked out of the huge glass doors and stopped as I looked around. When my eyes caught Harry's my heart rate began to speed up. A smile spread across my face and he quickly made his way towards me. "Hey!" He pulled me into a warm embrace. I wrapped my arms around his torso. "Hi." As we pulled away he smiled at me, then pulled a white bouquet of flowers from behind his back. "Oh my god Harry, they're beautiful!" I beamed. "I've missed you." He placed them in my hands. "I've missed you too, and thank you." I pushed myself onto my tip toes to peck his lips.

Once we got in the uber Harry had booked (since he absolutely hates driving, especially in London) we headed back to his apartment. When we got inside I took a shower to wash the plane smell off of me. Then I got ready because tonight I'm going to dinner with Harry, Ethan, Faith, Simon, Talia, Josh, Freya, JJ and Tobi. Harry has already given me the rundown on their names, what they look like and who's with who. I'm really excited to meet them and take the next big step in mine and Harry's relationship.

After making myself look presentable with, makeup and a nice outfit I left the bathroom. Harry sat on the bed and immediately looked up at me. "How do I look?" I asked jokingly with a twirl. He stood up "you look incredible." He complimented. "Why thank you." I smiled.

My leg shook slightly and I picked at my nails as we pulled up to the restaurant. Harry noticed this so placed his hand on my knee. "Everything's gonna be fine they'll love you." He soothed. I nodded then took a deep breath, intertwining my hand with his.

When we got inside we were quickly taken to our table where almost all of Harry friends sat. I politely smiled and immediately the girls stood up to greet me. "I'm Faith. It's so nice to finally meet you!" She pulled me into a quick hug. I introduced myself to the rest of the girls then looked back over to Harry who was already fondly observing at me. Unbeknownst to the both of us Ethan and Josh were nudging each other and whispering about how 'in love' Harry looked.

Once we sat down (me between Harry and Talia) we ordered some drinks. "So y/n how did you n bog meet?" Tobi asked. Harry had already forwarded me about his "stupid nickname" as he'd put it. "Um, well we bumped into each other and he knocked my bag out of my hand. Then we knocked heads as we both bent down to get it." I laughed lightly as I remembered the awkward interaction. "That sounds like it came straight out of a movie." Freya added.

Harry's hand sat comfortably on the top of my thigh as we chatted. I was soon fully comfortable around everyone and was having a great chat with Faith about her and Ethan's daughter, Olive. When our food arrived, all of the girls (including me) told the boys to "wait!" while we took a picture. The boys all groaned and then burst out laughing at the synchronised annoyance.

While we waited for dessert everyone was having their own little conversations. "So what's toffee pudding in Norwegian?" He asked. I giggled "it's just toffee pudding." "Oh. Well then what's," he took his time to think "thank you?" "Takk skal du ha." I replied. "Takk skal du ha." He repeated. I nodded "ye pretty much." I lifted myself from my seat "I'm just gonna go to the toilet, I'll be two seconds." Harry smiled "ok see you in a minute."

Harry's pov:

I watched as y/n walked away then turned back to the table to see the boys giggling. "What?" I asked, with my brows furrowed. "Harry you're so whipped." Simon stated. My face softened "well I really like her so... I don't mind." "I'm really happy for you bog, she seems really lovely." JJ said sincerely. "Ye it's nice to see you finally with someone." Ethan added. "It's not been that long has it?!" I asked, referring to Ethan's "finally". He chuckled "It's been like four years mate."

Your pov:

I returned to the table a few minutes later and sat back down next to Harry. "Did I miss anything important?" I asked. "Not really, the boys were just reminding me how long it's been since I've been with someone." I raised my brows "oh, why?" "Because they're glad I've finally found someone amazing as you." He whispered into my ear. A pink blush spread across my cheeks. Harry chuckled then placed his hand back onto my thigh.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Night Moves Timestamp: Moving Day

Request: Hmmmm what about Night Moves? Or how soon before she asked Dean to move in with her?

Night Moves Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 600ish

Warnings: language

__________

“What are you doing?” asked Benny with a laugh, leaning against the back of his truck as you grunted. “I thought we told you to let us boys handle the heavy stuff.”

“I can help,” you said, reaching forward for the box again until Benny threw an arm around your waist and picked you up. “Benjamin!”

“Oh, somebody’s in trouble,” teased Jess, laughing as Benny carried you through the front door and out through the sliding door to the deck. “Not sure which one of you though.”

“Him!” you said with a growl.

“Deano will kill me if his girl gets hurt trying to lift that heavy old box,” said Benny.

“Oh my...why doesn’t Dean have scrawny friends!” you said, squirming a little as Benny carried you into the backyard, plopping you down at the shed where Dean was putting a few things away.

“Delivery service for Mr. Winchester,” said Benny, Dean poking his head out with a smile. “Watch this one.”

“I thought you were taking a break,” said Dean, crossing his arms.

“We’re almost done,” you said, swinging your arms around, spinning back around. You started to walk back around the house, Dean humming behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean wearing a smirk. You made a dash for it and got to the front yard before he was picking you up, laughing as he spun you around a few times. He carried you around around the cars to see Benny and Sam carrying the box you tried to get.

“Oh, you tried to get that one? That’s got like a crap ton of books in it, sweetheart,” he said. “Put it in the office guys!”

“We better be getting pizza and beer after this one!” called back Sam.

“You moved like four boxes,” said Dean with scoff. 

“We moved your entire apartment!” said Sam.

“Pfft,” said Dean, waving him off. Jess poked her head outside, laughing at you again.

“Oh, now I definitely know you were the trouble maker,” she said. Dean set you down, giving you a smirk as you grabbed her hand and pulled her inside in your house. “So...how long before I get to be maid of honor?”

“We moved in together. We’re not engaged...yet,” you said.

“Uh huh,” she said. “I give him two more weeks.”

“He moved in because his lease is up and Benny’s place is too small,” you said, cocking your head at her.

“No, he moved in because he’s in love with you. A months tops before he proposes,” she said.

“Would you go figure out how much pizza and stuff I need to order, please?” you asked. She hummed as you headed outside again, Dean sitting on the trunk of Baby, staring out at the street. “Dean? You alright?”

“Is this too fast?” he asked, patting the space beside him for you. You climbed up, Dean taking your hand in his. “We’ve only been dating a few months and the guys today have made so many jokes and I know they’re just jokes but-”

“Do you love me?” you asked. Dean nodded. “Well I love you too. I don’t see anything wrong with two people that love each other wanting to live together.”

“But even the I love you’s came so fast and that’s not normal and-”

“And we met on a hookup with some backseat sex. Our relationship has never been normal and I don’t think we should judge ourselves based on what other people think,” you said. “If we’re good, we’re good.”

“I am looking forward to living with you,” he said, squeezing your hand. 

“Me too,” you said.

________

[heylittleriotact]

WIP Whenever

@razildor @pseudospaceship @xxnashiraxx have tagged me over the past few days, and I've been so busy/tired that I haven't been able to sit down and actually work on anything, which is weird for me. I'm sad my output has dwindled and will for the next little bit due to work stuff, but c'est la vie - it's better to not have time to write than to have time to do it and be plagued with writer's block so I'll take what I can get.

It seems like springtime has brought out the horny in many of us in the Emmrook fandom, and I'm over here writing intensely emotional conversations about death and grief, but if you know me, that comes as no surprise.

Anyway, here's a little bit of what I'm working on for the next chapter of i heard people are dying to get in here. I've got more smut prompts I need to work on too (thanks for sending them in if you did - I will get to them... it's just gonna take some time.)

No tags: if you see this, please post your wip and tag me so I can snoop it <3

Wintersend Eve

The holiday season wasn't particularly relaxing when you worked at a funeral home, as it turned out. In fact, it was statistically the busiest time of the year: the frail and elderly were more likely to succumb to death's call when the conditions were cold and bleak. Inclement weather made for icy roads and parking lots, so there were more fatal car accidents and falls. The worst part of all was the notable uptick in suicides and overdoses around this time of year: the holidays really seemed to be a breaking point some people, and every time during the week leading up to Wintersend when a new call came in where the decedent was resting at the medical examiner, Rook felt sad.

Sad for the person who had left. Sad for their family who would forever have to navigate this time of year while being reminded of the tragedy associated with it.

Taking vacation time around Wintersend was basically unheard of at McDermott & Rafferty: in order to keep up with the higher than normal call volume, only a certain number of staff were permitted time off over the entire month, and those available dates were snatched up within hours of the calendar rolling over in the new year.

Rook was fortunate that due to the rotation of her schedule and sheer luck, she'd manage to swing an extra day off after Wintersend, which then rolled into her normal weekend off, so she ended up with four glorious days off in a row.

McDermott & Rafferty was open three-hundred and sixty-four days of the year, open for all other statutory holidays, with the only exception being the day of Wintersend. Even then, it operated on a skeleton crew of staff: one person in the call centre, two transfer drivers to be available to remove any decedents from where they passed away, and two funeral directors on call, each taking one half of the day, should anyone urgently wish to speak with a funeral director.

Emmrich had graciously offered to cover the first half of Wintersend until noon. After that, Leigh Ernesto would take over, and the regular on-call schedule would resume.

Rook wasn't crazy about the fact that their first Wintersend morning together would be soberly spent within arm's reach of Emmrich's cellphone, rather than wrapped around each other and indulging in mimosas and sweet rolls while thick fluffy snowflakes fell outside, but it was the nature of the profession, and she was grateful to be spending it with him at all. Besides, once he was no longer on call, he had the same days off as Rook.

“Joan asked me yesterday if you’d met my parents.” She mentioned from her place at the end of the couch where she was scrolling her phone, half reading through key studying points for her upcoming final exam, half-watching the TV where black and white re-runs of Alfred Hitchcock Presents flickered on the screen.

“Did she?” He mused, flipping the page of his book and returning to massaging her feet in his lap.

“Yeah - I told her you got in a huge fight with them and kicked my dad’s ass.”

Emmrich tutted, “I really wish you wouldn’t tell our colleagues such outlandish things, darling - wasn’t it awkward enough to have to sit down with Perry and sign that Consensual Relationship Agreement last week?”

By the time they both arrived at work on Monday after the party - separately - it became rapidly apparent that everyone at McDermott & Rafferty had learned of their relationship somehow over the course of the weekend.

‘Spotted leaving the party together and looking very cozy while doing so’ was the rumour that had circulated the ranks of all hundred-odd staff members in less time than it took for an Amazon delivery.

The source of the rumour was unclear - it had travelled so quickly through so many channels that getting to the root of it proved nearly impossible - not like it mattered: they had left the party together and they were very cozy. Denying it would only open the door to further embellishments and outright fabrications: the last thing Rook wanted to be doing was damage control on some bullshit nonsense about she and Emmrich fucking in a hearse or something.

“I mean if people want to keep asking me questions about my personal, off-the-clock life, they’re welcome to,” Rook snorted, “That doesn’t mean I have to tell them the truth - it’s none of their fucking business. I’ll keep making up increasingly insane shit until they get the point.”

She brushed the ball of her free foot over the front of Emmrich’s pants, pleased when his relaxed frame stiffened at the feeling of her toes on his flaccid cock: she knew exactly what she was doing with the flippant little movement.

“Besides—” she continued, “Joan knows you well enough to know that a bare-knuckle brawl with your girlfriend’s dad is the last thing you’d be pulled into: it was just my special, polite little way of telling her to fuck off.”

"I admit I do feel better not having to be quite so secretive about things." He drank from his cup of tea, and Rook reached for her glass of wine on the coffee table next to her: red, intense, and pricier than anything she could ever justify buying. "I just worry that some see it as..." he hesitated.

"Inappropriate?" Rook finished for him before taking sip and setting her glass back down. "The cradle-robbing creeper used his position of power and authority over the young doe-eyed nymph and seduced her while continuing to exercise that position of power in a way that puts her at a disadvantage?"

Emmrich's cheeks reddened, "I wouldn't put it quite so bluntly, but–"

"But what? You're hardly in any 'powerful' position: you're not my boss or my supervisor - as far as hierarchy flowcharts go at McDermott & Rafferty we're basically on the same level, the only difference is you get paid more and deal with more bullshit. The only real power imbalance that anyone could point out would be the fact that you teach one of my embalming classes–"

"Precisely, and–"

"– and I won't even have the prerequisite course completed so I can sign up for that one until later next year," Rook forged on. "We've already chatted about it: you'll go on leave for that semester, and someone else will fill in for you while I'm taking the course so there's no conflict of interest. You've already talked to the program director about it, and been forthcoming, so there's literally no reason for anyone to act fucking weird about it."

He got tangled up like this some times, she had learned: left to sit with his own thoughts for too long, he'd get lost in hypotheticals and 'what ifs' and outcomes that were well beyond his control: they had talked about this - at least three times - each time leading to the same outcome: it was going to be alright and no one was going to put him on a registry that precluded him from being within five-hundred yards of a school. He hadn't done anything wrong: Rook was a consenting adult who was interested in bouncing on his cock because she enjoyed it, not because he had somehow tricked her into it.

"Rook..." he began solemnly, closing the book and setting it down.

"Emmrich," she retorted.

Something was bothering him - she could tell by the slight knit of his brow, and the way his mouth turned down at the corners, his eyes introspective and searching for something unseen.

"What's actually on your mind?" She prodded. "We've been over this so many times, I'm beginning to think you're using it as a front for something else."

His eyes drifted to his lap: her feet across it and his book. His palm whispered over the cover as if trying to soothe the inanimate object made of wood-pulp and ink.

"It's a personal question for many of us, so I don't ask it lightly: what inspired you to pursue the funeral profession, darling?"

[siriusblack-the-third]

The Marauders: Pranks!

(in no particular order)

31st October, 1971 (First Year): the idiots somehow managed to get Peeves on their side and messed with the feast. Additives to the food had the entire castle running towards the bathrooms. The pipes were clogged for weeks afterwards. They served detention for the entirety of the duration.

31st January, 1973 (Second Year): Sirius tricked the gargoyle that protected the headmaster's study, got into his library and took several rare tomes. Dumbledore only realised when Sirius marched into his office two weeks later and dropped 14 books onto his table, announcing, "I'll be borrowing your books frequently, thank you." Just for the sheer talent of getting through his protective spells, Dumbledore allowed him to do so. However, detention of two weeks was handed out for breaking and entering.

23rd September, 1976 (Sixth Year): everyone woke up to see that the 26ft bronze dragon statue atop the fountain in the courtyard vanished in the middle of the night. No-one has seen it since. Nobody knows where it is. However, every time James or Sirius pass by the fountain, a small smirk curves over their lips. On another (completely unrelated, of course) note, James has an exquisite new pen, made of bronze and covered in a beautiful, intricate dragon motif.

13 December, 1974 (Fourth Year): the entire castle just. Floated up into the air without a warning. Exactly 77 feet off the ground for 77 minutes. It took all four of them three months to hand carve runes into the perimeter of the castle, and before that it took all of August for Sirius to come up with the right rune sequence that would stick a timer to the magic. They didn't serve detention, only because the rune sequence was such a stroke of genius— fourth year students barely knew how to use single runes in magic, let alone sequences long enough to cover a perimeter.

12th May, 1977 (Sixth Year): any time someone touched a goblet, said goblet would turn into purple butterflies. Very pretty, but very frustrating when all you wanted was a drink after a hot day. It turned out that they had mixed a transfigurative potion into the dishwashing water, and McGonagall made James write a paper about his invention. Technically, he earned his Potions mastery before he got his N.E.W.T. results.

4th February, 1976 (Fifth Year): a vicious storm cloud hung over Hogwarts starting from the 4th all the way till the full moon, making it rain sleet and hail non-stop, 24 hours a day. Everything came to a standstill, including Quidditch (James had to be persuaded for this one). Under the pretense of a month-long detention, McGonagall and Flitwick sat Sirius and James down and had them explain the thought process that went into the spellwork— weather magic not only required obscene amounts of raw power, but the steps as well were notoriously difficult to execute.

21st December, 1977 (Seventh Year): at exactly 23 minutes after eleven at night, the entire castle got wrapped up in huge, terrifying thorny branches. They crawled through the hallways, spilled through windows, blocked the doors and crept over the suits of armour. Huge roses— about two feet in diameter— bloomed all over the castle, dark haunting pink in colour. Waking up in the morning was quite a shock for people when they found out the vines had grown literally everywhere and taken over the dorm rooms. The inspiration was Disney's animated Sleeping Beauty, and Flitwick and Babbling both gave the Marauders twenty-five points each for the creativity. They did serve four months of detention, though.

.

WARNINGS

do NOT tag w*lfst*r or j*gul*s i mean it i will block you

I do not want anyone calling Sirius or James stupid

If you wanna argue with any of these, argue with the wall. These are headcanons, not reality. Chill.

[hooked-on-elvis]

APPRECIATION POST

ELVIS AND THE BLUE MOON BOYS: As told by Scotty Moore.

On a December 27th SCOTTY MOORE was born.🎈 I'm a little late but I wanted to celebrate this special month and date still in 2024. So here's a little summarized story, from Scotty's POV, of how it all started to happen in the music industry for him, Elvis, Bill and D.J,, our dear Blue Moon Boys. The story of how Rock and Roll music was born when initially three young men formed a trio in mid-1954.

I must begin with an observation: "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson, from where this excerpt above comes from, is a GREAT book! A definite Elvis and Rock and Roll music fans "must read." I'm yet to read Bill Black's story in "Don't Be Cruel, Elvis: The Bill Black Story" by Paul F. Belard and DJ Fontana's memoir book ("D.J. Fontana remembers Elvis")... but I'm taking my time enjoying Scotty's book for now. It's full of details and I'm impressed with each little part of his (their) story in those pages. People are not usually that interested in musicians as much as in the lead singers, specially if they're not musicians themselves, like me - but Scotty Moore had a very interesting life, besides the book is so well written, honest and fun you can't seriously feel it's even close to being uninteresting. Reading Scotty's book I never had the feeling of wanting to skip the story to the part where Elvis comes into the picture because Scotty's own story is that incredible! I mean it. Anyhow, I'm just sharing how much reading Scotty Moore's story was so important to me and made me feel a deeper appreciation for the Rock and Roll history as a whole and also it helped me better understanding Elvis as a person and how he came to be the legendary artist he became. I didn't finish the book yet, but I can tell from where I am in my readin that having Scotty, Bill and D.J.'s support, guidance and friendship was crucial to the rise of Elvis Presley as we know.

For the record, it actually started with Scotty Moore chasing his dream, cutting a record at the Memphis Recording Service and being asked to audition Presley afterwards. To think Scotty wasn't even supposed to be born! Haha... we'll get to that.

PICTURES: Three-months and five-years old Scotty Moore.

Winfield Scott Moore III (December 27, 1931 – June 28, 2016) was fond of music since he was a child. One of Scotty's bigger brothers gave him his guitar as a farewell gift when Scotty was five years old and his brother, Ralph, the youngest son in the family prior to Scotty being born, joined the US Navy (picture 1 is Scotty wearing a Navy uniform his brother sent him while he was serving). Scotty Moore had four siblings, three boys and a girl. In ascending order of age, they were Carney, Mildred Lee, Edwin and Ralph. His sister, Mildred, sadly passed away when she was only fourteen years old and Scotty wasn't even born yet. It was a hard time for the Moore family, but that sad event in their story was the reason why Scotty existed. Scotty's father, Winfield Scott Moore, found relief for his grief in music, playing fiddle and the banjo, instruments he taught himself how to play. Later he would teach his children how to play guitar. His mother, on the other hand, never got over losing her only girl. Scotty's brothers were born respectively in 1911, 1913, 1915 and 1917. Mildred, born in 1913, died in 1928. A couple of years later, Mattie Moore, Scotty's mother was already thirty-eight years old while her husband and Scotty's father was forty. Regardless of their age, she was so inconsolable over losing her only girl child, they decided to have another baby, hoping for another girl. That's when Scotty was born, in 1931. Scotty laughed when sharing this story. His parents never treated him as if he was a mistake, always showed him the same love they had for all the other children. However, being born with a huge gap regarding the other children in the family (Scotty's brothers were already 20, 16 and 14 when he was born), was not that easy. He felt left out simply because his siblings were in different moments in life than he was. Growing up as the only children in their household possibly contributed a lot to Scotty's relatively reserved, cautious, sober but highly creative personality.

The Moore family — L-R: Edwin, Scott (father), Carney, Ralph, Mattie (mother) and Scotty.

Given the circumstances surrounding his family, as the Great Depression hit hard, Scotty and his brothers grew up watching his father playing music in square dances and parties to help supplement the family's income. Eventually all the boys were involved with music, joining their father in a family band and playing together to help making ends meet. Like them, Scotty grew to love music but found in his guitar more than a way to unwind or to make a few bucks, he actually got serious over playing music and eventually went to dedicating most of his free time to improve his guitar skills.

"Scotty wanted to go fast. He wanted to play music you could dance to. It was as if there was some yet undefined, an inner rhythm simmering inside him, something wild and raw trying to break out into the light of day."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

Growing up, Scotty did not find his vocation in school. In his words, he "didn't dig" the school, being an average student. He dropped school for one year after completing the ninth grade, dedicating his time working in the family's farm, but not enjoying the work decided to go back to finish his high school education. In January 1948 Scotty followed his older siblings' steps and decided to enlist in the U.S. Navy. He was only sixteen at the time — the minimum age to join the Navy was eighteen or seventeen, with parent's permission. Therefore, Scotty had to lie about his age. He was lucky his father was supportive. According to Scotty, that was the only time his father lied, to help him. At the age of sixteen, Scotty Moore was a Navy man, still he never left his guitar aside. During his time in the Navy, Scotty formed different bands. One of them even had a fifteen-minute radio show on radio station KPRO in Bremington, Washington, and also played at clubs and parties off-base.

"When he played song the way they were written, they somehow came out different - faster, more energetic. On the outside, Scotty was cool and collected, and shy country boy. On the inside, he was bubbling with emotion. Music was his release. No one had ever heard music the way Scotty heard it; no one had ever felt it the same way."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

PICTURE: (1) The USS LST-855, the first ship on which Scotty served in China, and its officers. (2) Later, Scotty served in Japan and Korea on board of the aircraft carrier USS Valley Forge. Picture shows Scotty (left) with musician friends on board of the USS Valley Forge.

Scotty had to become a man fast, the Navy training and his time serving were enough to achieve that. Still, when he returned home to Tennessee after being discharged from the Navy on December 4, 1952, with a China and a Korean service medals in his collections, he was still headset to make music his life and main source of income. By 1954, while he worked at common jobs to make a living, after all at the tender age of 23 he was already a former Navy man, married (then to Bobbie Walls, his second wife) and had two children from his first marriage (to Mary Durkee) he needed to support — Linda Moore, born in December 16, 1950 and Donald Moore, born also on December 16, but in 1952 — Scotty had been trying to gather musicians to play in his free time around Memphis and its neighborhood. Those musicians groups had many different formations, none in particular and no official band for a while. it was upsetting since Scotty took playing music seriously. He looked for musicians as passionate and dedicated to music as himself to form a band and, eventually, he would find those musicians who would encourage him to pursue his dream even further.

Scotty's first real band, a band he formed (under contract and all, quite unusual at that time for small bands) and to which he was the manager to, was the Starlite Wranglers — Lead vocals by Doug Poindexter, Bill Black on bass, Millard Yow on steel guitar, Clyde Rush on guitar and Thomas Sealy on fiddle. Just like Elvis but prior to him, Scotty did cut a record with his band at Sam Phillips' Memphis Recording Service facilities (Sun Records) in Memphis, Tennessee, in May 1954. That's how he got acquainted with Sam. The songs they recorded were "My Kind Of Carryin' On" (A-Side) and "Now She Cares No More For Me" (B-Side).

However, the Starlite Wranglers did not succeed as Scotty hoped for. Still, he continue to perform live in small gigs with his band, concerts he would book himself. At that moment, it was enough satisfying that he had a band with a real record out but he wanted better, he needed more. Scotty continued to visit Sam Phillips at Sun Records, hoping the man could get him a better chance to succeed in the business next time around. One summer day in 1954, Scotty was asked by Sam Phillips to audition Elvis Presley for him, to find out if Elvis was worth his time, money and records producing skills, following the suggestion of Sun Record's secretary Marion Keisker, who had been chatting with Elvis back and forth since he got into the studio in July 1953 looking to cut a private record as a gift to his mom, as he said. Marion was enchanted by the young's man politeness and lovable personality but also with his persistence in making music his real job. Scotty, on the other hand, knew nothing about Elvis, had never seen him until that point. He decided to invite Bill Black to help him out with the audition at Scotty's home (983 Belz street, North Memphis), a house that shared the same neighborhood as Bill Black and his wife's home. It happened on a Sunday afternoon: July 4, 1954. That same day, after the audition, Scotty gave his approval to Sam Phillips and they all got together at Sun Records. That's when "That's All Right, Mama" a 1946 blues song originally recorded by Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup was covered... but at Elvis, Scotty and Bill's brand new style.

PICTURES: 1. Scotty Moore's home in 1954, at 983 Belz street in Memphis, TN. The street was renamed and now (as far as I know) it's the Eldridge street, North Memphis. 2. Bill Black's home at the same neighborhood (967 Belz street). Moore and Black were neighbors in mid-1954 after the Blacks (Bill and his wife Evelyn) told Scotty and his then wife, Bobbie, about a home available for rent there. They first auditioned Elvis in Scotty's home on July 4, 1954, according to Scotty "Elvis arrived shortly after noon." ••• Credits (pictures): Mike Freeman on Flickr, pictures taken on February 21, 2011. Additional info: Youtuber Billy from "Spa Guy" channel visited the address. Here's a video uploaded in 2017 that shows the sites: "Elvis Presley Audition Scotty & Bill."

Scotty had a long story with music of his own prior to Elvis coming into his life. He knew much more about the music industry than Elvis at that point when they met (mid-1954) and so did Bill Black, both already used to entertaining small audiences in honky tonks, which proved to be just what Elvis needed, jovial musicians with a passion for music as strong as his own, but people that could school him on the business.

The trio was a perfect match. Elvis' voice and the attention he got, the curious gazes from both youngsters and adults, interested not only in his voice but also in his flashy looks and unusual movements onstage, combined with Scotty's management skills and Bill's boldness to experiment with sounds and the great enthusiasm and energy he brought onstage, encouraging the rather shy young Elvis to let loose and show everyone his true self, was like the stars were finally aligned when those three met. When Elvis already had a deal with Sun Records and was finally a music artist as he dreamed of becoming, a member of the trio gathered by Sam Phillips to which Scotty Moore naturally took over the management responsibilities (in contract signed on July 12th, 1954 just a few days after Elvis' first audition with Bill and Scotty), due to his previous experience as a band manager. Initially, Scotty Moore was the only person actually booking gigs for them. The easiest way for Scotty to introduce his new band to the public was by incorporating the trio as "special guests" to the Starlite Wranglers shows. One of the sites they played at was the Bon Air Club, a bar at the outer rim of the city (Memphis) limits. That was before Elvis and The Moon Boys could even have a name, as it would be for a little while...

The group's name soon after would come. Taken from the B-side of "That's All Right, Mama", "Blue Moon of Kentucky," a Bill Monroe hit from 1946 that was recorded at Sun Records by Elvis and the boys just a couple of days afterwards, on July 6, 1954.

"With 'That's All Right, Mama,' Elvis took a blues song and sang it white. With 'Blue Moon of Kentucky' he did the opposite: he took a country song and gave it a bluesy spin."

Excerpt "That's Alright, Elvis: The Untold Story of Elvis' First Guitarist and Manager, Scotty Moore" by Scotty Moore as told to James L. Dickerson.

Already on the road, a little while afterwards the three added a drums player to the group, D.J. Fontana. They'd met and become friends during the Louisiana Hayride gigs, where D.J. was an in-house drummer on its Saturday night radio broadcast. Hidden behind the curtains onstage for a Louisiana Hayride performance of Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys, on October 16 1954 at the Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, LA, D.J. had his first taste of what it was like to play with the boys. D.J. said about playing with them: "I figured the best thing for these guys was to stay out of the way, why would I clutter it up with cymbals? I'll just play the back beat and stay out of their way. They already had the good sound."

Scotty's management on Elvis' career didn't last long, tho. As a local musician with no connections in the business that could give the band a national break, Elvis' management contract was given to the deejay Bob Neal, a friend of Sam Phillips, and, not long afterwards, to Colonel Parker, who would take over Elvis' destiny from then on. Scotty shares in his book that the moment he talked to Parker he could feel Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys as they were was not far from becoming history. He wasn't wrong. but that's another story. The boys still had time to be featured in some of Elvis' most remarkable films released in the 50s, as "Jailhouse Rock" (1957), and definitely left an everlasting mark in music and a legacy that'll never be forgotten.

It was crazy being a musician for Elvis Presley, sure, but those three guys rocked and, IMHO, the Blue Moon Boys are the responsible ones for Elvis getting to be so demanding on hiring his musicians when he went back to performing live, in 1969, after the end of his Hollywood acting career and a hiatus from live performances that lasted seven years. At the beginnings, Scotty said there was a point [at the peak of the Elvis Mania in the 50s] where they couldn't hear any music during the concerts, so they had no option but to guide themselves by Elvis' moves onstage to get an idea of what part of the songs they were supposed to be playing. D.J. Fontana said he could hear the music but couldn't see the other musicians when he started playing with the boys. Elvis couldn't hear himself in most of the shows in the 50s, specially when things got bigger and wilder from 1956 on. Elvis was a perfectionist and he expected his musicians to follow his lead onstage. He would gesture to them whenever he wanted a change in the pace or sound... when to begin playing, when to pause, when to lower the music, when to come to an end. Elvis liked how intuitive, quick and responsive to him Scotty, Bill and D.J. were onstage, and that established his standard for what good live musicians were made of. Other than a perfectionist, Elvis was quite methodical character in work. He wasn't one to get easily convinced into changing his way of doing things if he liked the way they worked before. That's another great insight Scotty's book gives us. As the band was originally composed by three members, they didn't have a lot of instruments to fill the sound in records, so Sam Phillips decided to put Elvis' vocals at the same level as the instruments as he produced their records. Elvis liked how that sounded, so much so that he just hated when people (and I mean Colonel Parker) wanted to bring his vocals front and put the instruments more or less in the background, which happened in some of his later records. Colonel Parker reasoned with that saying Elvis' fans wanted to hear Elvis' voice, nothing more and Elvis didn't agree in the slightest. Other example of Elvis being resistant to changes in the music business was in 1969 at the American Sound studio, when the way of producing records was very different than in the 50s, being more common to tape the parts of the songs separately (backing vocals, instruments and leading vocals) because that gave a better opportunity to explore with the sounds to the music producers, allowing them to reach different sounds than recording songs with all of the musicians playing and singing together in the same room as in a live concert could give. Elvis had a little bit of a hard time accepting it. He loved how the 50s music was made. That, my friends, is how the Blue Moon Boys era and his experience recording at Sun Records was dear to the King's heart.

Well, not so full of dates and details but that's it. Just a summarized story of the beginnings of Rock and Roll music in the 50s. In Scotty's book it's all way more interesting, I guarantee you. The point is... those guys were a force of nature together. They were different, fresh, exciting... as a team. It was not only about the lead singer for a while. Scotty was quite shy and modest, yet very mature and serious over playing music, while Bill Black was fun and energetic onstage, giving Elvis the encouragement to act more wild and bold onstage too, little by little but quickly becoming as untamed as he could be, inspiring fear and frenzy into the "square" 50s society. EP learned a lot about how to be an exciting entertainer at that time.

Scotty, Bill and DJ... I will always appreciate your efforts and dedication to music. You were extremely important, taught and guided Elvis while he was finding his way in the industry. Your place in history is permanent, and so is our gratitude. Don't be fooled, my friends, we still feel the direct impact Elvis and the Blue Moon Boys caused in the entertainment industry. They rocked our world.

I specially will always appreciate Scotty Moore being stubborn on his passion with music. In a world where so many people are wannabes, so many try to make it and give up when things get rough and life happens, Scotty's vision and creativity helped change the course of music forever. It wasn't easy. Scotty, just like Elvis in a future time, lost his (first) wife - among other reasons - because of his music inclination. Scotty and Bill were a reflection of what Elvis was, if we take a closer look at their private lives. As I said before, they matched. It was meant to be.

Happy heavenly belated birthday, Scotty. I hope I did justice sharing a little bit of your story. I am an admirer of your work. Even not knowing the least about music technicalities, I know enough to be certain your guitar playing talent inspired many great musicians that would come after you. Your story is unique and so special. I feel blessed knowing a little bit of who you were and how you felt. God bless your soul, dear Scotty. ♥

[leadfort]

Fuck it. Bre'uhn/Brian Masterpost. Because he is my primary player character in a text basted D&D Westmarch I'm part of, and I can't believe i havent talked about him yet cause he's the one I actually PLAY the most. Currently lvl 6 psi warrior, started at level 2. Basically. His whole deal is based on the thought that he needs to kill an illithid in order to be welcomed in with his kin in Tu'narath.

Also I wanted to make a very gith looking gith lol and he has since become a lil more unique in his design, but the biggest inspiration initially was the 5:e Volo's guide to monsters image of a githyanki as well as wanting the funny lil 1:e hair style Overview: Bre’uhn is a githyanki who is haunted by extraordinarily bad luck. He wants nothing but complete his rite of passage into the Astral Plane by killing an illithid and bringing its head to his queen. Life seems to have different plans for him as something always seems to go wrong. The ship that would take him sunk. His party left without him. Adventurers has already killed the illithids he went out to get. The hunting party was stopped by an out of season blizzard. Even casually it seems like bad luck is always right around the corner. He's become extremely superstitious and afraid of things that could cause even worse luck. He adorns himself in lucky trinkets in hope that they will counteract his ‘curse’. Now he’s in his 30s, and he is growing more impatient. If he doesn’t get that illithid head soon, he’s going to die from old age.

Personality: Everything you’d expect from a githyanki. He’s impatient, stubborn, proud and blunt. Values efficiency and shows of force. He does have quite a bit of humor, though it borders on being ridicule and mockery. Wants to be logical, but acts based on emotion. Where he differs is his extremely crippling social and performance anxieties. He hates that he has these though unfortunately, him trying to force himself through them causes more flare ups.

He's also extremely expressive and everyone can read him like an open book. He.. also hates this aspect about himself but at this point he can't be arsed to stop it.

Backstory: Grew up in a creche in the Spine of the World that is pretty far up in a mountainous and a harsh cold region. It’s rather close to a small town next to Mirabar. His upbringing was pretty much standard for a githyanki, and he reflects his culture in his temperament a whole lot. While the creche and the town didn’t love each other, they weren’t outright hostile to one another, and it was not super uncommon for githyanki to sometimes show themselves in the town.

Once Bre’uhn was in his early 20s he tried to join several hunting parties in order to find and kill his first illithid to be "properly" allowed into the Astral Plane. However, something always came up or went wrong for himself specifically. He’d always had a bit of bad luck in his shadow, but this is when it really started to mess with him. In his mid 20s he started to believe that Tymora herself scorned him. He didn’t know why, but started to learn more about the istiks pantheon and religions in order to get in her good graces. He even tattooed her symbol into his ribs, a four leaf clover. Just two months after he got the tattoo, he got into a barfight. In typical githyanki fashion it soon escalated to a knife fight and he stabbed one of the other patrons. The four leaf clover was slashed in the process and Bre’uhn soon found himself in prison.

“Luckily” enough, the man he stabbed did not die, which simply meant that Bre’uhn was not sent to be executed. In hindsight, Bre’uhn maybe would have preferred this… As he then spent six years in prison. Six whole years where he was not able to search or find any illithids. His prison mates also didn’t know how to pronounce his name, thus gave him the nickname “Brian”. As an extra kicker, once he got out of prison the creche where he grew up had completely relocated. None of the townspeople knew where they all had gone (and it's not like the githyanki would've told em), but it seemed they had all just packed up and left three years ago.

Still, he’s determined to find an illithid and that takes precedence over searching for his own kin. A few years into his search, he stumbled across a fortune teller. They told him that his chance to ‘prove himself’ will come when he least expects it. Bre’uhn, fully believing the fortune teller, took this to mean that if he is actively searching for illithids, he will not find them. If he expects them, he will ‘jinx’ it, and thus they will not show themselves.

----

The game then picks up where he is ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN there is a mind flayer colony deeply imbedded in an abandoned mine outside Mirabar. He has rigged this whole cave with explosives, but as he sets up the few last barrels of smokepowder, he slips on the powder as a bright portal to Waterdeep suddenly sucks him up. ... and spits him out, crashing in the middle of the Waterdeep Market. He is quickly punched to the ground as he tries to attack people in his confusion and told about the strange rifts and portals that are opening around Faerun. And now, he is here, still on his quest to bring a single 1 (one) head to Vlaakith. Sure, there's literally a permanent opening to the Astral Sea above him all the time (thanks rifts...) But going there without his tribute is IMPROPER.

Trivia:

Oral fixation - Likes to chew on blades of grass or picks. Nibbles on his lip ring.

Very expressive face, which he doesn't like but he cant help himself.

Obsessively collects luck trinkets because you never know.

As a githyanki, he's not against murder and violence. But he started to curb his behaviour since he is afraid of going to prison again.

Since he's convinced his bad luck is the cause of a god, he is well versed in gods and religious practices. Moreso in that he's ready to fight them at this point.

Midlife crisis. Extremely afraid of growing old and he dyed a patch of his hair because he found white strands.

He got the tattooes in prison, which represents his wish to be amongst the clouds on the back of a red dragon.

Other Thoughts: Bre'uhn is aware that his 6 years spent in prison with humans, dwarves and a half-orc for company has changed the way he acts and talks quite a lot. This is cause for his anxieties since he is worried that even if he were to complete his rite of passage, the other githyanki would find him too different to let him back in. This results in him avoiding other gith at all costs because he doesn't want it confirmed... which tenfolds his anxieties when he's forced to talk to one. (And he is no stranger to panic attacks).

He scoffs in the face of zombies, owlbears, hags and black dragons and has not a single drop of fear for them. But seeing another gith from 30 feet away has his bones crumble.

Thank you for readin!

[i-will-go-with-you-five]

My Five Lore

Heyyyyy I thought it was finally time to make this post! I've been doing ZR for about nine months now and have been posting from the sidelines so I figured it was about time to introduce myself and Five. Just a little rundown on what my Five is like and her story and stuff. She's basically me, but with a couple things changed.

Apperance:

She’s on the shorter side- Sam is always putting his elbow on her shoulder to annoy her but she secretly loves it :) And pretty stocky but really strong. Simon challenged her to a lifting competition once and while he eventually won, she had him sweating and it was a close thing. She wears her hair in really long double Dutch braids, and has a round face with bright hazel green eyes and a big smile. She also wears really brightly colored gear, especially shoes, its a long-lasting joke with her and the other runners. She's unreasonably attached to axes and baseball caps, and is pretty much constantly wearing something Jody made her.

She has a couple of pretty faint nicks and slices on her hands, from before the apocalypse. She got those was first learning to butcher as a teenager. But since the outbreak, she's gotten a stab wound on her left shoulder, and permanent bruising on her shins. She's very susceptible to shin splints, but its the apocalypse, so it's not like she can properly rest and treat them.

UPDATE: she has new scars now from the ending of Season Two. They are Pretty Important.

[One day I will make the most beautiful drawing of her ever. One day.]

Background:

Five is basically me, with a couple things (appearance, where she lived, some family details, etc) changed. She lived in Northern Montana, a stone's throw away from Canada, and was doing college remotely while working on a farm that raised big animals, and took care of her nieces and nephews while her siblings were at work. That's why she's such a jack-of-all-trades, with book and street smarts, she had a very diverse range of skills due to how she grew up. I consider Five as an AU of myself if I had been thrust into the apocalypse, so personality and history-wise Five and I are similar, except for the trauma of the apocalypse, where she was on her own for almost four months after Z-Day, and hardened her a bit. Five's real name is Lydia, but not a single person besides her knows that.

Early Outbreak:

She went on a rare vacation with her best friend, Nina, and her best friend's family to London two days before the outbreak, in early November of 2023. The worst timing. One day she's on a plane, the next she's seeing Big Ben for the first time, and the day after that hundreds of people have turned, including Nina's family, and they're fleeing for their lives in the chaos.

The plan was for the two of them to try and contact Lydia's family and try to find a way to get home, but the phone lines were all down within a day. So they decided to just get out of the city. Nina got bitten when they were on the outskirts of London, after a week of them surviving together. Lydia stayed with her as she died. Nina begged Lydia to kill her zombie-self, but Lydia just couldn't do it- she fled instead. She decided to kill her name, Lydia, along with her friend's death. It was the only way she felt that she could mourn.

She was then on her own for about four months, and her circumstances really changed her. She'd always been a a happy and trusting person, but each person she tried to group up with ended up betraying her, in a multitude of ways. She threw up mental barriers and became pretty grim and trusted no one. She can talk, but only to people that she likes, and only to one or two people at a time. The bigger the crowd, the quieter she is. But when she gets in a place of being comfortable, she has a lot to say. But in those four months, she said less and less, to the point where some people assumed she was mute. She had to stifle who she was in order to survive, and it took a huge toll on her. The pain of her bottled-up emotions was buried deep.

She's a Christian, and the only thing that kept her going in the apocalypse was clinging onto Christ with all of her might, even if her faith had been shaken by what seemed like the end of the world. She just kept running and fighting for something greater than herself. Save the next person stuck in a building, even if they stole her supplies. Run supplies to different groups of people, even if they then beat her bloody and left her for the zombies. Lead a pack of zombies away from a guy trapped in a tree, even if he then throttled her neck and made it even harder to speak. Give a message to a radio outpost, even if they then dishonored their side of the agreement and held her at gunpoint, rather than just attempt to send airwaves to the States in search of her family. Because if she couldn't do the right thing, and try to stay faithful to her values and Jesus, what good was left in the world?

She ended up at Mullins because, once again, she got betrayed. A group of highway robbers caught her unawares, and she literally ran into some soldiers, who promised to just help her get out of the tight spot, but instead brought her to Mullins and enlisted her. Sour and panicked, she was so uncooperative to the point where they shipped her out to Abel for Project Greenshoot so they wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.

Getting to Abel:

While the apocalypse has been The Worst Thing Ever, getting her helicopter shot down was probably the best thing that ever happened to her in the apocalypse. It was the last thing that she expected, a rocket launcher barreling towards her, after everything she's already been through, and it shook her. For the first time since when she had a depressive episode as a preteen, she just simply wanted to die. Death seemed like the best option as she fell through the air to the sound of hungry zombies beneath her. Everything hurt too much. God wasn't answering her sobbing cries of help every night. She'd given it her all and it still wasn't enough. Gave far more than she took and got hurt every time. If she gave up, everything would just be easier. She was about to accept her death and simply let go of life. It wasn't like she had any friends or family left to love her anymore.

But when that voice crackled into her headset, urging her on and giving her a name, Five, which felt right in a way she couldn't explain, encouraging her- she knew she had to keep going. Life wasn't over yet. There was still hope. So she ran. And the longer that voice, Sam, spoke, the lighter she felt and the less emotionally exhausted she became. A voice in the back of her mind told her that this was the answer to her prayers for a friend, and for help. But she was still incredibly cautious. This seemed like the nicest person in the world, but what if he hurt her? What if she got betrayed again? After all, she knew nothing of who this Sam Yao was, beyond being awkward and sweet and kind of adorable. Wait, adorable? Where had that thought come from?

She wanted to be mistrustful of everyone at Abel when she got there, that was her intent. Especially after the doctor threatened to not let her in. But having those people show her kindness that she hadn't seen in months crumpled her barriers like wet paper. By the time her 8-week training was over she'd sunk right into Abel perfectly. Jody was her good friend who was always up for a hug and a story, Janine was smart and practical and reminded her of her older sister to the point where she started to treat Janine like an older sister, Eugene was a goofball who made bad jokes with her while sympathizing with what she'd been through, and Maxine was a God-send for figuring out how to turn off her survival mode again.

And during that time, she wanted to become friends with Sam, the voice who saved her, so badly. But he was wrapped up in grief from Alice's death. Which she understood. Nina's death still ate at her. Not to mention having no idea if her family was dead or alive. So even though it killed her, because this was the first time she'd wanted to have a friend in forever, she kept her distance to protect him from her brokenness. Because even though she'd lightened up, she still was a woman of few words who held all of her pain back from everyone. Even if that voice in her head saying Sam was God's answer to her problems got stronger and more insistent every day. And even if Maxine told her multiple times that Sam relied on her more than he could express or she could realize. She had to hold back.

Being a Runner: falling for each other

Until the night run in the dark. [fanfic one shot here that will eventually become a twoshot once I finish the post-run debrief.] Where all that slammed through Sam's head was I need a miracle for Five, and all that slammed through Five's was I'm running for Sam. And the moment she crashed into Sam's arms, him sobbing with relief and her sobbing with exhaustion and delirium, was the moment that she realized that she did, in fact, love Sam Yao. And for Sam, that was the moment he realized that he had to become her best friend. And the rest of that night was the first time Five told anyone about her past and her pain and what the apocalypse had been like for her. And Sam was there. As they talked and listened to one another was the moment they firmly became best friends.

Five’s love for Sam only grows in the next few months. But… she doesn’t know what to say, or even think honestly. She’s never been in love before. Ever. She’s, well, she’s scared. Which she knows is stupid. But what do you even say about something like that? ‘Hey Sam, you've chipped away at the hardened exterior that I was forced to adopt bit by bit, and I've become myself again, and you push me to be even better than I was every day. Also I am totally in love with you.'? So she says it in every way besides words. With each moment with Sam. Each gesture is her way of saying I love you. And she runs. For the same reasons as before- her faith. Her trust in God. Her putting goodness back into the terrible world. But now for another reason too. For Sam. For his voice. And even if he doesn't understand it, how he pushes her to trust in her faith even more. Her faith and trust in God are stronger than ever now and she's very strong in it and tries to shine that light to others.

Sam realizes that he loves Five when someone sends Five to die out of spite, as revenge. She's coming back into the gates, angry but not as angry as he is. He's ready to throw down with the person who did that to his runner. Then the way she just grasps his shoulders, locking eyes with him, and reminding him to breathe, he just- falls. So hard and so fast. He knew that this was coming. He's felt it growing since she came back brandishing supplies with the biggest smile in the world for the DnD campaign he was starting. But he ignored it. And now he can't anymore. Because it's Five. His Five. But what do you even say about something like that? ‘Hey Five, you mean everything to me, actually. You've given me something to fight for each day, given me hope when I've had none, and have helped me grow so much and overcome my doubts. I really, really, really love you, more than anyone or anything.’ So he tells her with his words, with every single thing he says. Every voice crack of fear or excitement over comms. Except those three, which are coincidentally, the most important ones. He talks, for the same reason as before. To protect the people he loves. But now for another reason too. For Five. For her running. For who she's pushed him to become. How she's taught him to fight for something even bigger than before.

There is an ending for their story (its REALLY good) but you're just gonna have to wait to read it until I'm done writing it tehehehe! It's more climactic that way. I'll link it here when it's done.

And there we go! A little bit about my Five and her story <3 Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

@stellar-collective drew my Five!! You can see her here<3 It's from this fanfic dabble

@tazzy-zooming the incredible made another drawing of her that I adore

and my dear friend @book-girl4evaaa did another here!!! Go flood her reblogs please

oh and @masterfuldoodler who is a WONDERFUL human being did her in her survival running mode SO WELL

and then she awed me again with this one which is like,,, the coolest thing EVER?? All of them are just SO SO SO GOOD IT PHYSICALLY PAINS ME HOW AMAZING IT IS

oh we are EATING now and have even MORE talented friends who have done me the honor of drawing my Five here's @valesyn 's incredibly dramatic rendition of Five fleeing zombies to that epic verse in Heavydirtysoul by Twenty One Pilots

Ao3

[hulloitsdani]

Fighting for your life with heroes against brand new ones that sweep your team. Henrietta lore? That power she must keep in check? Summoner just won't die. Only in some timelines. and badly. Sharena. Ragnorok?!?! Loki's shenanigans.

Thank you stranger! In no particular order, let’s go through these

First off, OH I LOVEEEEEE BEING IMMEDIATELY PROVEN WRONG ABOUT LOKI. FINALLY. THANK FUCK. The validation I felt when the question of her motives was IMMEDIATELY brought up this book. I don’t care that my read was wrong— what I truly wanted more than anything was something of more substance to read into. As for actual predictions, my bets are that her aims are on bringing about Ragnorok and the end of the gods. For fun. As a treat. For the silly.

As for the actual state of the game, idk man, I play this game weird. I’m both free to play and entirely causal, so it’s entirely up to luck if I ever have any relevant units. In my many years of playing this game, I have never managed to +10 merge a unit that wasn’t a grail unit. So I don’t tend to play game modes where that matters much, with the exception of aether raids sometimes. I like clearing the challenge maps and making the story mode levels really difficult by using strictly Askr trio.

For events outside of that, I have a lot of fun using about one team per six months and trying to creatively use them and their base skills to solve whatever new bullshit is added. The game is clearly not built for you to do that, but I like the challenge it poses. I got really lucky on the CYL7 banner and got all four of the guys from that event. Brave Robin, Corrin, Soren and Gullvieg was my go to team for wayyyy longer than it should have, especially with zero changes to their kits and no merges. Hell I didn’t even have dragon flowers on half of them because Askr Trio building has long stolen most of flower supply. But god was it fun. I know how that group of units play off each other like the back of my hand. And considering how most people tend to just be frustrated with this game’s gameplay, it feels like I must be doing something right. I am constantly broke tho, so rip.

On the lore side, Henriette and Gustav are such a fascinating two for one package for me. Marketable plushies often bought together please don’t separate. The :) to his >:(. They’re both are great rulers and loving partners, but fumbled a bit in their parenting in ways that make total sense. For you see, I am a firm believer that everyone walks out of their childhood at least a little fucked up. Even the best parents are still human. And I adore Askr’s royal family unit, because it digs into that idea! Henriette and Gustav weren’t abusive or harboring malicious intent, but they were neglectful and lacking in ways that cannot be denied. Which is extremely cool! More of this please and thank you.

Looping back to the quote in question, to be perfectly honest, I would be pleasantly surprised if we ever got answers for her day of devotion alt voice lines. However, Gustav having a wife with the power to kill him easily would be so fucking funny. Like father, like son. If your romantically coded life partner can’t theoretically ensure your body is never found, what’s even the point. She doesn’t even need to be secretly divine or anything— I would be satisfied with her being something as simple as an abnormally strong mage. She can accidentally fold people like an omelet if she’s not being careful. Which, now that I’m putting that into writing, might contribute to her relationship with her kids.

Speaking of, Sharena!!! My best friend Sharena!!! I’ve got a multitude of thoughts cooking for her, but currently the one at the forefront is making home girl jacked as hell. Not joking. Dead ass. We all know the role she plays on a personality level— she’s the heart. The emotional glue that keeps these loner trickster types together and in check. But considering that this is the theater of war and everyone else has a role to play, I think it could be interesting if she was the beefiest fighter in the Askr trio. She’s able to dedicate the time fully to that craft, you know? She’s not balancing the responsibilities that arise from being the Order’s commander, tactician, or right hand man/history buff. Not to mention she was trained to fight by Bruno, who presumably played the role of group muscle before her. Therefore, when it comes to feats of physical strength, Sharena should be the Order’s go-to lady! I think it would be neat! She deserves the ability to easily carry her commanding officer and beat Alfonse’s nerdy ass in an arm wrestle.

Last but certainly not least, summoner bad ends! What could possibly go wrong? A lot, apparently. And it happens much more often than you’d expect.

See, I don’t think it’s that the summoner cannot die. Polar opposite, if anything. Each success is built upon the littered corpses of millions of failures. This idea loops back to the alternate version of Askr the group finds in book 3. In order to defeat Hel, they must loot the corpse of a dead world. By its very nature, not every summoner has an alternate corpse to loot. At least half of all realities where the summoner exists results in death and ruin by book 3 ALONE. This is saying nothing of all the dangerous odds they must beat from then to book 9. Just pulling one example off the dome, in order to defeat Gullveig, they had to die a truly eldritch and inconceivable amount of times. But we the audience don’t bear witness to that. We get to see the one world with the one summoner who is hitting those fraction of a fraction odds. The universe’s luckiest bastard. Others are not so lucky.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! Recently diagnosed midlife ADHDer here. First, thanks for talking about your ADHD & sharing what you’re figuring out. It’s super helpful to someone on a similar trajectory.

I just saw a reference to your photo books for the first time & it seems like a great way to help with memory issues that come with ADHD (like I know I did [x thing] but when?). Could you talk a little about the process of collecting photos & such all year & then how you create one?

Thank you!

Ey, happy to have helped! Congrats and sympathies on your diagnosis. And honestly it's good for me too, talking all this out, it helps me get my thoughts in order. I often namedrop you guys to Therapist, you are "my readers" :D

The process of putting the photobooks together is...well, it's a lot, so this is going to be a super high-level overview, but basically yeah I wanted to have records of where I'd been and what I'd been doing that were more concrete than just digital photos on a hard drive or a cloud. But I didn't really want to just print the digital photos and put them in a box, either, so I started making photobooks. Usually I go through Walgreens or Shutterfly for printing, whichever has the good coupons when I'm working on it.

So, here's the weird, kind of obsessive part: a huge help in making a yearly photobook, for me, is the fact that I take my photos off my phone at the end of every month. I have some that live on the phone -- my growing collection of photos of my niece, a selection of photos from my Europe trip, some memes -- but those live in their own folders. The main camera roll gets downloaded every month, and I put them all in a file labeled with the month and year (2023-01, 2023-02, etc). It's a recurring task in my to-do list, that I offload the photos on the last Saturday of each month. You don't necessarily have to do it this way, though -- it's just what works best for me, and I encourage people to find a way to do things that will actually be functional for them.

Across the course of the year, although really moreso in October and November, I go through the photos and remove any I absolutely know I don't want to keep. Once I've done that, I save a copy of the whole year's worth of photos to my digital archive, and I take another copy and label it "FOR PHOTOBOOK" which allows me to do more culling of them than I otherwise would, because I know anything I delete is still in my archive. And this all has the advantage of me knowing that the photos in my archive are at least SOMEWHAT organized.

So I go through all the year's photos in the For Photobook file, month by month, sort them into folders by event (so there's, like, 01-Polar Vortex, or 04-Europe, or 09-Birthday) and clear out all but the photos I know I want most. My photobooks are generally longer than the default length they give you at most sites, so I usually do have to add a few pages (they're like $1/page or something) but not too many. Often these days I have some stuff that's events, like the Europe trip, and then some stuff that's just like....a folder of funny shit I saw in Chicago, or a folder of all the food I photographed that I want to save. The cats generally get their own four-page spread at the back. :D

In 2020, I will say, there were only two themes: CATS and COVID. I alternated pages.

Anyway, once I've got the photos sorted, and deleted any I don't want to include, I get on Shutterfly or Walgreens Photo and start up a new photobook project. I upload the first folder of photos, place them on the page with suitable captions, then upload the second folder of photos, etc etc, until all the photos are uploaded and placed in the book. I don't caption extensively -- often it'll just be a page that'll say like "TEXAS IN JULY!" and all the photos from that trip. But it definitely does help me keep track of what I was up to. And it's kind of soothing to review the year and see all the stuff I accomplished.

So that's the bare bones -- by all means feel free to ask questions, although if you guys wouldn't mind asking in comments or reblogs if possible, that should keep the discussion contained as necessary. :)