#who lacks any and all sense of self preservation

[thou-hast-now-a-bosom-companion]

what is the quality your Tavs/Durges have that makes it MOST unbelievable that the origin characters would collectively deem them leader of the tadpole-ridden pack of freaks

(aside from Durge murdering in their sleep. among the other things)

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: I'm part of the 'everyone underestimates Kalim Al Asim , the layers of his character and upbringing' club. Sweet does not equal being a dum dum my dudes.

Habits You Steal:

Theatrics (Inherited): Kalim talks with more than his mouth. There's body language. Watch out when this guy gets excited because he might knock over a lamp amidst a rant. Hands are flying with each embellishment. He's pacing. Jumping. Energy is seemingly endless with this one. When Kalim laughs, he does so with his entire body without reservation. Head flying back, grin wide, shoulder shaking, etc. Not that he can't replace what gets broken but - y'know. Be careful else you might get bitch slapped on accident. Which normally wouldn't hurt too much but Kalim's decked out in gold. The last thing you want is a ring imprint on your left cheek because Kalim got too excited after a card game. On that note - someone get Jamil some aspirin because that excitement is infectious. You can be the most stone-hearted edge-lord on the face of Twisted Wonderland, but eventually his infectious sunshine attitude takes hold.

"A-Ah! It's okay! We can replace the lamp, so don't worry. Are you hurt? No, no. It's really aright. I'm fine, see? You missed me - can I see your hands for a second? OIII! Can someone please bring a med-kit! Thank you!" <- Jamil's already grabbing the broom before you can say sorry. This is the last time he lets you sit anywhere near fragile objects during a game of charades - or any game. Kalim was bad enough...but at least with him fretting over the tiny cut on your palm, Jamil could clean the mess in peace. At least until you offer to pay for the lamp. Kalim's got enough tact to lie about the price, and everyone's thankful. No one wants to see the Ramshackle Prefect have a heart attack for shattering a real crystal lamp. 'cause then Kalim will cry too and it'll just be dominos from there.

Personal Space (Inherited): Kalim tears away any sense of dignity, self-preservation, and privacy that might exist. In a good way, of course. It's not that Kalim is an open person. Quite the contrary. He needs to keep a calculated distance between himself and others due to his position as an Asim. Regardless of his happy exterior, never forget that Kalim is far from an airhead. Kindness doesn't equate connection - as much as Kalim would love for everyone to be his friend. Yet for those who are in that trusted circle? He treats them like an extension of the self. His lack of shame bleeds into your own perception.

Training and Resistance (Inherited and Developed): Kalim hates that you need to do this. He rarely 'hates' anything, but he despises that you need to worry about being poisoned. What’s worse is that you refuse to have a tester, or a guard, or anything of the sort. It all started with discussing the future with Jamil, who logically brought up the complications that come with Kalim taking a partner. You couldn’t be shadowed, were in a difficult position with the headmaster, and it would only become difficult once the duo moves back to the scalding sands. Even more once you join them (as NRC is merely teaming with prideful youths, while the Scalding Sands is a free for all).

Point summary? You need to build resistance to drugs and learn what to do in a hostage situation. The former is handled by Professor Crewel, and the process was explained in excruciating detail. Jamil, who’s undergone training, was unphased but Kalim desperately wanted you to back out. Yet it would mean needing a guard - which would be hard to arrange - and so…yeah. Many weekends in the nurse’s office. You also have to complete the hostage drills all Asims and their spouses are put through. How to escape bondage, how to last an interrogation, how to navigate without magic (which you could, duh, so basically without a map when stranded), negotiate, etc.

"Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? I can still hire a body guard - there are many options available back home! You can spend our next vacation at the main villa and meet with them. We can - oh. y-you're sure?... alright. If this is what you want then I'll be there through every step. Just remember to ask if you need anything. I'll come running, no matter what."

Charisma (Inherited): Everyone underestimates just how dangerous Kalim is. Seriously. Nothing is more risky in a school like Night Raven College than dropping your guard. It can cost you your life - or at the very least leave you indebted to someone you do not want having dirt over your head (*cough*ACertianCephalopod*cough*)The gossip grapevine is a menace. Everyone has their pride. Everyone has their secrets. Everyone holds each other at arm’s length, even if you’re cordial or friendly. Everyone except Kalim, who has this innate ability to pry the most dirty secrets out of you simply through his nonchalant attitude. Nothing drops another’s guard quicker than a sense of security and superiority. People often mistake his genuine heart for nativity. They fail to recognize that it’s a choice, and deep down he is aware that the Al Asim name places him high above the people he sees as friends.

"Hm? Isn't that the alchemic lab on potionomics meant for second years? You're so smart! I didn't get to do that lab until just a few months ago! - it's not yours? Then why are you working on it?" <- game. set. match. You think he doesn't know what your handwriting looks like? He saw you lingering outside Crewel's classroom earlier and wanted to know why. Saw an opening. Took it. Is happy you’re helping out one of your other friends, but just had to make sure no one was bullying you into doing their work.

Since he truly believes that despite this gap, friendships can transcend - his ability to get information is uncanny. A power he can wield intentionally if need be, in getting you to name drop any person or problem posed. It’s a great quality to have! This way he can help and support you :) Why is this an inherited trait, you might be asking? Because as the next head of Al Asim, Kalim’s been studying how to do business since he was young. He’s going to teach you. Pray tell what is born once the Ramshackle Beast Tamer learns the ways of Scarabia’s master of charisma and resident sunshine child?…Night Raven’s downfall. Power couple. Dead serious right now.

Jewelry (Developed): Worth your weight in gold takes a new meaning. This isn’t in reference to being spoiled, mind you. This is about status and the meaning behind the jewels Kalim is imparting. The cultural significance. Considering that you’re not from twisted wonderland, you technically are a blank slate to all countries. Who better to learn from than someone who’s spent his childhood studying to become an expert in international trade? Kalim has enough tact to bite his tongue about the deep meaning behind the gifts. You may not understand just yet, but his excitement can’t be contained. Each bangle and piece from the family treasury has a small story. While he has no problem using his wealth to help people who need it, there’s a joy that comes from decorating his treasure’ in treasure. Y’know?

"Do you like it? This necklace was my mother's at our age. My father gifted it to her during a business trip to the Queendom of Roses. Ah - you can have it! Really! She has many others, and when I told her about you this was what she chose to have sent over. It's already yours! You can wear it to the next banquet, please?" <- Being the next head of House Asim, Kalim can't be with just anyone. Yet he seemed so happy in his letters, and Jamil vouched on your behalf - so this is your time to shine. Also, sending the necklace back would be like slighting his family's good will. You quite literally need to accept it.

Music (Inherited): Can you play an instrument? Sing? It starts out as wanting to be near him more - so you join the pop music club. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are very convincing. So they push you to pick up something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as you have fun with them. Even in the earliest stages where the notes come grated and your friends (Grim) make fun - Kalim is supportive without fault. His encouragement leads to proficiency and an appreciation for music. He'd love if you sing with him. Even if it's just a lullaby - no, especially so.

Habits He Steals:

Naming inanimate objects (Inherited): Your effort at making Kalim more money-conscious. The decite of sentimental attachment, if you will. It’s honestly a risky move to make considering the sheer amount of things that he owns, so naming everything is off the table. Yet it’s the silly things. Like seeing a face in the paintwork on one of his tapestries, and then deciding to dub it Artie. Oh no, Kalim we don’t need to get new artwork for the bathroom! What about Artie? It’s already pretty enough so lets just leave him there. No - no, that ring’s super pretty but the matching set from our anniversary is enough. We wouldn’t want Garnet and Pearl to think we were replacing them, right?

"I think Vinnie would work best on display, don't you? Purple and yellow are sure to catch people's attention from far away! Or maybe should we hang up Paolo? There are so many tapestries in Scarabia’s vault, I feel guilty only putting one up on display at our festival stall. Do you think they’d let us hang more?”<- It works. Kalim defiantly thinks twice. He's a bit like a kid refusing to give up their action figures after watching Toy Story, ya feel me?

Cooking (Inherited): Kalim is learning how to cook for himself as one step to being more self-sufficient. He only eats food that Jamil prepares, but with Viper’s seal of approval you’ve earned a pass. Essentially anything you both make with pre-approved ingredients is fair game. You pick a recipe every week, give Jamil the grocery list, and he makes sure to have the stuff in the dorm. Jamil is only okay with this so long as you supervise. Teaching Kalim is on your shoulders - and in all honesty? It’s an amazing bonding experience. Jamil can rest easy for a few hours and Kalim isn’t being thrown straight into the deep end. Obviously it’s only a small reprieve, and temporary since back at the Scalding Sands there are regulations in place. Kalim loves wearing matching aprons, humming little tunes while reading recipe books, watching cooking videos, learning about all the nutritional benefits in food, and really gets an appreciation after seeing how much work goes into his favorite dishes. There’s also that spark of joy when you sit down to eat, and it’s somehow one-hundred times better than eating with his family back home. Not that Kailm doesn’t love his siblings, but family really takes a new meaning when you see it coming together right before your eyes.

"Mph th-ish is sho gud! - how do you like it? Should we invite our friends to try some? It tastes almost like Jamil's! I bet if we keep at it, then we can cook up a banquet all on our own. That'll surely put everyone in a good mood!"

Skinship (Developed): Kalim is the type to initiate touch. Not receive it. If you look at his interactions with the others, he’s always the one throwing himself at them or being a vibrant glow-stick. Very few people give that back - and in truth? Like, honest to Seven truth? Kalim’s got no problem with it. Many people have bad intentions. Not everyone wants to be his friend, and that’s fine. They come to him looking to get in his good graces. It’s unnecessary…he’ll happily help without them twisting his feelings. All they need to do is ask. Do you know how easy it is for someone to prick him with a drugged needle? He’s not comfortable with physical contact that he does not initiate, unless it’s from someone he trusts. Like Jamil, Silver, Cater, his siblings, etc. Even they have a limit (which he’s confident will never be crossed, since again, Kalim is almost always the initiator). This list is subject to change…what, you think a family of 30+ kids can exist without animosity? He dreads the day he has to think of one of his little siblings becoming untrustworthy.

Anyways. Trust is a choice for Kalim. His happiness and extroverted optimism is all a choice. Sometimes on an unconscious level (*cough* his awareness of the divide between himself and Jamil, yet pushing the knowledge down until it inevitably hurt them both *cough*). So imagine reaching the point where he trusts you. It could be something small, like the first time you hug him from behind or lace your fingers together. Intimate. Not like Cater’s half sling over the shoulder, not like his little siblings hanging on his legs, or Jamil pushing him ahead while they walk. When he’s not initiating, and Kalim might hesitate for a moment. Hard to picture, I know, but by letting it be he’s choosing to trust you wholeheartedly. All in the span of like 5 seconds, and he might not even realize it until later on. Those of us who shine the brightest, usually have walls that are hard to see. Just some food for thought.

"Really? Really, really?? Really, really really??? Really - Ah! Sorry, I just can't believe it! There's so much I still don't know about them...but they're paying attention to me, huh? That's it! I need to work harder to be a worthy boyfriend! Starting right now, I'll become a better man!" <- Kalim. Sweetie. No. You're already the brightest boy. Your dormmates only brought the prefect's changes up to make you happy! I mean - mission successful? The goal was to motivate him and they technically succeeded. Just not for studying. He's 100% fired up with enough energy to run laps around the dorm now. He doesn't know what to do first, should he get Cater to help make you a playlist? Or have some flowers sent over? Would you prefer red roses or a mix of violets with chrysanthemums. Wait. Grim's 'technically' a cat, right? He should make sure not to send anything harmful to kitties. Maybe some tuna for him with chocolates for you? But this gift should be something you can keep. Ohhhh he is vibrating from excitement. He needs to show how much he loves you. Your attention and care truly means the world to him.

Habits You Steal:

Bug Spray (Developed): Jamil can and will throw you under the bus when faced with insects. Big hit to his pride, not his best moments, but he is NOT dealing with the absolute infestation at Ramshackle. You are spraying that place with heavy duty RAID if you want him over longer than ten seconds. If he so much as catches a GLIMPSE of a roach - nah. Just nah. He will shove that dustpan in your hands and send you to war. Don’t call him until it’s dead, the carcass has been disposed of, and you’ve wiped down. Grim’s a cat. Teach his ass to hunt. He needs to pay rent. You think he’s letting the flame-ball follow to the Scalding Sands after NRC? Jamil wants him on hinting duty for scarabs or else it’s time to prep hobo box.

“Burn it….Did you not hear me? I said. Burn. It. Better yet? Burn this whole damn building!” <-First night he decides to let Kalim handle Scarabia and humor you with a sleepover - and a giant spider decided to invade the shower. We’re talking big spider, maybe pregnant. Please keep in mind that during the VDC prep, Vil had Ramshackle deep cleaned. So the worst Jamil saw was a few ants. Now, the science club does meet in the Ramshackle garden often since you’ve cleaned it up, and Trey may grow plants that make the place insect central. Jamil was unaware of this. The gut wrenching scream that echoed through every room in the house. You’d think one of the ghosts pulled a cruel prank - but no. You didn’t even get a moment to investigate. The bathroom door flew open, Jamil running out still wet and drenching his pajamas. The death glare and spew of curses was the most genuine you’d ever seen him. Well, it could have been appreciated if not directed at you. Fix it or he will never set foot in this place ever again.

Spice Tolerance (Inherited): Not much to say here. He likes his food spicy. Sure, Jamil isn’t great with his words so his main love-language is bringing over tubbaware filled with food, and he does cater to your preferences more often than not. Except you undoubtedly will be eating what himself and Kalim eat most days. Which is packed with flavor. Grim isn’t complaining, food’s food. You? It’s funny to take a chomp out of ghost pepper like it’s a roma tomato, only for Ace to try and then start wheezing. Work them tastebuds, ya scrawny magic man. Heh.

"Can't handle the heat? Curry's a versatile dish. I could make something mild next time...you still want it? Why? Just because it's my favorite, doesn't mean you have to like it. Still not going to give it back? Alright. Lets see you clean that plate then." <- Flattered that you want to experience his favorite foods prepared to his tastes. For the record - Jamil likes it spicy spicy. Hotter than fiery vindaloo. Its an acquired taste and he really can alter the recipe if its too much. Won't unless you ask, because it's funny and oddly romantic seeing you sweat just trying to make him happy (Will hit the breaks in if you are getting sick from it. Does not play around).

Braids (Inherited): Paired with Jamil’s developed trait. Braids or hair beads - take your pick. Maybe both? Or a headscarf. His little sister - Najima, do you remember her? She’s the first Viper you get to spend time with during a trip to the Scalding Sands and gifts you either some hair beads or a headscarf as her unspoken blessing. Nothing fancy, and Jamil forced the coin in her hand for it, but she did take you through the markets while he was busy tending to other needs. It’s honestly really sweet, and Jamil will braid the beads or scarf in one of your side pieces of hair every morning (or wrap the scarf around your head. Not fancy like Kalim’s but still a knot he ‘insists’ will look better if he does it since you’re inexperienced. He could teach you. He won’t.)

Silence (Inherited): Shit just does not phase you anymore. Ever heard of the inability to keep calm until there's someone more panicked nearby? Jamil embodies this, being surrounded by emotive people all the time, and his perpetual state of indifference physically does not allow you to feel unsettled. If Jamil isn't bothered, then neither are you. It's that simple. Resting bitch face is contagious. Jamil's ability to handle Kalim comes in handy for raising Grim. You can now ignore his baby face and daily begging for premium tuna. Little kitty needs to expand his arsenal of tricks, because your will is stone.

"Bad day? Grab a cup. The dorm's usually quiet for the next hour. I'll be there in a moment." <- Queen never cry. If anything actually does phase either one of you, it normally ends the same way. Plopped on the floor of his bedroom, sipping hot tea and staring at the wall in comfortable silence while stewing in mutual suffering. Eventually you give him one of those starry sky projectors, and y'all ill stare at that instead. If it's a problem that has a tangible solution then it gets solved. Easy. This is for the 'yeah, life sucks' moments where all you can do is let it be before getting back up again. At least you have each other.

Habits He Steals:

Braids (Developed): Jamil can easily do his own hair. A flick of the wrist and it magically braids itself. Ebony locks carry memories of pain, growth - and change. Small change. Yet change nonetheless, which seemed impossible years ago. There’s something very intimate that comes with fixing another person’s hair. You’re not proficient enough to handle his cornrows (or are you? To his standard? As fast as magic?) but Jamil’s fine with changing his hair style to a simple triple braid, or a braid-band using the framing pieces that can crown around his head. So long as you do it for him every morning.

Fix-It-Felix (Developed): You know that one type of dad? The one who visits your home and looks for imperfections. He comes over, puts fresh produce in the fridge, mends the nail holes in the wall and fixes that one loose board on the steps that you made a habit to avoid. Barely says two words during his visit but seemingly solves half the problems you were procrastinating? This is Jamil. 100% Jamil when he comes to Ramshackle. He needs to make himself useful. And to scold someone. Grim more often than not, but you’re not safe. He really goes ‘bitch you live like this?’ at least once a week. Then proceeds to take preventative measures like a textbook tsundere.

“I put tangerines in the fridge since winter is coming. You need to be getting enough vitamin c and - where’s Grim? Don’t let him eat them all and make sure he knows not to light the fireplace tonight. There’s some cleaner on the bricks that needs to sit for a few hours…you know what? I’ll go with you to get him. Grab your heavy coat, it looks ready to rain.”

Dancing (Developed): Jamil participates in solo-dance during his downtime. It’s not like he had a partner to do duos with. Jamil also was not interesting in cozying up to a stranger just to learn a dance he would rarely have a moment to indulge in. Kalim’s the one who mentioned this in passing to you. His intentions were pure, of course. Just as they always are. He signed you both up for a ballroom dance class as a present for officially becoming a couple! Jamil finally had a partner and time to try, so why wait?! The vice in question wanted to deny since (1) who has time for that, (2) it was off campus, would take three hours out of every weekend for a month and (3) The chance of embarrassing himself was higher than he would like. Yet Kalim is smarter than most think, and purposefully handed the gift to you. Not Jamil. Along with the excited embellishment that Jamil could now do this ‘long desired’ class that really wasn’t high on his radar.

"If it makes you happy...then I don't mind. Just try to avoid stepping on my toes. Otherwise I'll demand compensation. What do I want? Wouldn't you like to know, prefect." <- Five seconds in and he yields. You weren't going to let him out of it - no matter what excuse Jamil came up with. He'll put up with it and get back at Kalim later. The chance to spend time with you for that long is rare, and Jamil isn't the type to squander opportunities. No matter his personal feelings on the 'gift' in question.

Except Jamil finds the entire experience pleasant and hates that it’s all thanks to Kalim. Dancing with you is entirely different than dancing alone. It’s clumsy, new, and honestly tiring since he needs to lead. Especially in anything fast pace like a quickstep or to swing. It’s also three hours out of the week that Jamil isn’t maintaining his composure. Just you, him, and the instructor since Kalim splurged on private lessons. It’s liberating and Jamil wants to keep with it far beyond after the class ends. Even if it’s just slow-dancing in the common room to one of those vintage records stowed at Ramshackle. Seven, let him have this.

‘We’ instead of ‘Me’ (Inherited AND Developed): Automatically assumes that any invites are for you too. Jamil is used to thinking this way. Except the ‘we’ applied to Kalim, with Jamil as a plus one. Jamil did not want to be part of that ‘we’. Hence why he would only refer to Kalim when laying plans out. ‘Kalim has dance lessons at six, then dinner at seven, then study until 10 and then bed. Tomorrow, Kalim’s going to a banquet head by the treasure’s family and then returning to campus.’ The unspoken truth being that Jamil’s schedule matched. He followed, but was never on board with being Kalim’s ‘we’. He has always been a ‘me’ and made an active effort to preserve all his ‘me’ moments. For someone so self-aware…Jamil isn’t sure when he began to view you as his ‘we’. Only that when you auto-included him in everything…it was less strenuous than with Kalim. Far less. Easy to adapt. In the past, Jamil believed a partnership to be another chain. Perhaps being a ‘we’ was never supposed to hurt.

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’re staying in tonight…. No, not Kalim. The Prefect. What? I’m not speaking for them. If my word’s not good enough, just go ask the prefect yourself.” <- Other people might look at him and think he’s treating you like Kalim. Oh, how wrong they are.

Texting (Inherited): Jamil’s not used to someone keeping tabs on him. You’re going to see him within the hour, why does he need to call before going to wake up Kalim? Why do you need a text that he’s back in his dorm before you’re able to sleep? Why do you show up in Scarabia at one in the morning, throwing rocks at his window, if he forgets? (Jamil never forgets. He just had to reign in some rowdy first years and couldn’t catch a break. It was on his mind. Really.) It’s not the worst demand. A five minute call while he’s prepping breakfast and a few messages to know he’s going to rest are a small price to pay. Turns out a little rundown of his day before bed makes sleeping a ‘little’ bit easier. Huh.

“I don’t see it.” <- A lie spoken with the most monotone tone possible. Jamil rolls his eyes over the rim of his mug, taking a sip before turning the page in his book. Najima scoffs before returning to her magazine. She can say he’s softened up all she wants. He won’t admit to it. Doesn’t mean she’s wrong in the slightest. Jamil’s well aware that hopes and wants denied to him from birth have begun to stir within him. No matter how small the changes may be, Jamil isn’t foolish enough to give those emotions his attention. Not if he wants to keep them. Good things always escape his grasp…his wounds are too fresh to get comfortable just yet.

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

You started having the dream again. The disembodied eyes of your father floating in a black void. Just the eyes. Nothing else.

And for hours- and it really felt like hours- they would just stare at you. The eyes never moved, or blinked, or did anything other than hang in the air. But there was a terrible sense of dread when you looked into them. You couldn’t force yourself to look away.

And so that was why you had been losing sleep. You didn’t tell your mother that though. When she asked what troubled you, you made up some excuse to quell her worry. You could never tell her the truth; the truth that there was some piece of you left which never recovered. But guilt nearly destroyed your mother, and you couldn’t bear to let it fester in her any longer.

On Sunday you spread all of the ingredients the orc man gave you across your table. He didn’t even tell you the measurements. Your mother glanced down at you as she made her way to the root cellar. She stopped in her tracks, “By the Gods, are you making golden eggs?” You cocked your head at her questioningly. “Where did you find turmeric all the way out here?” She grabbed a pinch of it, “And so much of it too!”

“Uh-“ Your mother had a sparkle in her eyes that you hadn’t seen for a few years. She chuckled to herself, “Years ago. Many many years ago. There was a very nice orc family who lived just down the path. The wife taught me this recipe.”

Orc family? This was the first you have heard of an orc family. “You never told me you had orc friends Ma!” You jeered at her. She smiled warmly. “You hadn’t been born yet, of course you wouldn’t have remembered. Your elder sister loved playing with the little orc girl.” She reached for a jar from the cupboard and began concocting the mixture. When she was done the eggs swirled around in the vibrant yellow brine.

There was still turmeric left over, and your mother was so excited to show you how it could even be an excellent clothing dye. She took one of your more drab frocks got to work.

~

You weren’t used to feeling pretty. Sure, you knew you weren’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination. But to feel pretty? Beautiful even? It had been years.

But today, on regular Monday, you felt radiant. Your mother actually gasped when you stepped out of your room. You looked like a dream in the yellow shade your mother had dyed the fabric. She insisted on arranging your hair specially to go with the dress. “It’s just another Monday, Ma. Any more primping and I’ll be over-dressed.” The older woman sighed, kissing you on the forehead, “Fine go along now… before I start braiding daisies in your hair.” You giggled and practically skipped out the front door. Tucked in your basket was the jar of golden eggs.

The town square was nearly vacant, save for a few other shopkeepers opening up for the day. And then you saw the trio of orc men sharpening their arrows and adjusting the tension of their great longbows. You reckoned they were just about to leave for a hunt. Curse the Gods for your lingering gaze, but you made direct eye contact with one of them. You made direct eye contact with him. The orc you had bloodied and bruised the previous week.

Something (probably a lack of self-preservation) compelled you to start walking towards the bunch. If your mother could make peace with orcs, why couldn’t you? “But this isn’t a peaceful family with children, they’re trained killers, y/n…” You thought to yourself. The little muscle inside your chest was puttering away as you got closer. The two other hunting mates had started to notice your approach now. Your orc acquaintance had sort of a surprised yet dumb look on his face as you stopped before him.

”You didn’t write me a recipe, but you can thank my mother for knowing how to prepare these.” You extended the jar to him. His friends were snickering to themselves, and the orc just sat there staring at the contents of the jar. One of his buddies guffawed and whacked a big hand onto his back, “This simpleton can’t read to save his life… won’t be getting any recipes from him!”

You also held out the two silver pieces he had given you, and dropped them into his open palm. “And I can’t take these. Not after I injured you. Can we consider ourselves even now?”

“Khargaad, you didn’t tell us this was who the scuffle was with.” The other orc friend chuckled, “And look at that, not a scratch on her. Guess she won.”

Khargaad. Was that his name? Or was it a word in their mother tongue? He shot a venomous look to his friends, and with that they backed away leaving the two of you alone. “These look… like they’re supposed to,” He said in a tone of mild surprise. “Your mother… She knows other orcs?”

Was he trying to make conversation with you? “Um- Yes! Yes, it was a long while ago. They lived down the road from my family. It was before I was born, but they got along well from what I hear,” you replied. There was a deeply awkward pause before he glanced quickly at your dress. “Oh!” You gasped, “my mother taught me about this as well. The yellow stuff you gave me is an excellent clothing dye.”

“Yes, I know.” His tone was a little gruff. You felt foolish for telling him what he probably already knew. “Your name is Khargaad?” You blurted out. A hint of color rose to his cheeks, “Yup. Khargaad. And- um- what may I call you?”

”y/n,” you replied with a nervous smile. Silence hung over the both of you for a second. “Well, I’ll be on my way.” He said, turning on his heel to join his hunting mates. “Stay safe out there!” You responded. Your inner-self cringed, that reply was probably too familiar. He glanced back at you one more time before jogging to catch his friends.

~

The next day Milo found you sweeping outside the shop. “Why were you talking to those orcs?” He spat at you. You didn’t look up at him, “Just customers.” This technically wasn’t untrue.

”You don’t have orc customers”

”Says who. You?” You snorted at him, pushing the dust from the cobblestones onto his shiny leather boots. He yanked the broom from your grasp, “Why are you wearing that?” He hissed. You glared at him, wrenching the broom back from his grasp. “It’s none of your fucking business-“

“Let me buy you new dresses, y/n. You look like an orc.” You straightened a bit. “What do you mean?” Milo rolled his eyes. “It’s turmeric. They often dye their clothes with turmeric. It looks ridiculous if you ask me…” He trailed off. You were tired of this conversation, leaving him standing in the street. He didn’t bother to follow you inside.

The rest of the day was uneventful. You spent the last hour hammering some boards over the window still shattered from your target practice.

You didn’t notice Karghaad watching you across the square.

Thank you to everyone’s sweet comments, and to those who wanted a part 2 😘

@kennedyabraxas123 @allthecraftandthings @sunndust @blushycadaver @whyiamadegenerate @beaniebaneenie @reads-stuff-quietly

[paymechildsupport]

ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not. 

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna. 

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk 

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring” 

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋” 

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human. 

“Nice jugs btw” 

“???” 

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones: 

“He said you had a nice chest.” 

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–” 

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.” 

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore. 

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too. 

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow 

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything 

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed. 

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers. 

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol) 

—----

Flash forward to modern day… 

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna. 

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it) 

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work. 

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them 

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard: 

“Hey cutie ;) “ 

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?” 

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way” 

“What.”

“Toodles !!” 

It infuriated him, much to your delight 

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder 

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder 

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre, 

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?” 

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering, 

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused 

“No, I didn’t” 

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly, 

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.” 

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating” 

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor, 

“What.” 

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-? 

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?” 

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.” 

“Did you bang though?” 

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice. 

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did 

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife. 

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him. 

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing. 

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body, 

“Enough.” 

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?” 

Your damn smile again. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.” 

You scoff, “humiliation?” 

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes. 

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting 

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling, 

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that- 

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium” 

Oh.. 

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…” 

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat  —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good. 

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. , 

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less” 

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation. 

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did. 

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were. 

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–)  he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure. 

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial. 

You were his God. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 8

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 13.9k

A/N: I have nothing to say I’m sleepy lol. Very minimal proof reading. I hope you enjoy 🫶🏼 leave live reacts, comments and any suggestions that you have!!

—————————————————————————

3rd Person POV - October

Paige would be lying if she said she wasn’t sick to her stomach lying next to her girlfriend right now. The warmth of Azzi’s body should have been comforting, grounding like usual—but instead, it only fueled the unease twisting inside her. For the past four days, she had woken up alone, the sheets cold beside her, Azzi nowhere to be found. The first few times, she’d call, voice still thick with sleep, confusion laced in her words as she tried to figure out where her girl was. But each time, Azzi had given her some vague response about where she was.

At first, Paige had believed her, of course she did, it was Azzi. But the more she thought about it, the excuses never quite made sense. Not with the way Azzi avoided eye contact afterward, not with the way she brushed off Paige’s questions as if she was overthinking things.

By the third morning, Paige stopped asking. Stopped calling. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them until Azzi reached out, a quiet attempt at self-preservation. But now, lying beside Azzi, she couldn’t keep the words down anymore.

Azzi was here—warm, close, and wrapped around her like nothing was wrong. But Paige couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut, couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice the distance in Azzi’s tone in an attempt to avoid Paige’s questions. So she swallowed the hesitation clogging in her throat and finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Where do you go in the morning Az?”

Azzi stirred slightly, her body heavy with exhaustion from practice as she barely registered Paige’s tone. She nuzzled closer against Paige’s side, her face buried against her shoulder, completely oblivious to the storm of questions raging in her girlfriend’s brain.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, go to bed.” Azzi mumbled, her words thick with sleep.

Paige tensed. “What do you mean, don’t worry about it?”

Azzi let out a breath, her hand lifting sluggishly to Paige’s jaw, fingertips grazing her skin in an attempt to soothe her to sleep. She sighed, her voice barely audible now. “Nothing,” she mumbled, already slipping further into unconsciousness.

Paige exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. Azzi wasn’t even awake enough to realize how much her answer—or lack thereof—was eating her alive.

There was nothing Paige could do. Not tonight. So she took another slow, measured breath, forcing herself to close her eyes. Even if sleep felt impossible, which it was for most of the night.

The next morning, Paige woke up alone in Azzi’s bed. Again.

She stared at the empty space beside her, her throat tightening as tears welled in her eyes—but she blinked them away. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to get up. She brushed her teeth, grabbed her phone and her bag, and left without another thought, heading for her suite.

When she walked in, Ice and Jana were sprawled on the couch in the common area. They both glanced up as Paige wordlessly dropped into the chair across from them, her body sinking into the cushions like all the energy had been drained from her.

Ice arched her eyebrow, tilting her head. “Who shat in your cereal?”

Paige slumped further into the chair, running a hand over her face before mumbling, “I think Azzi’s cheating on me.”

Jana and Ice burst out laughing almost immediately.

“You gotta be trolling,” Jana said, shaking her head.

Ice added, “Yeah, and I think the sky’s purple. We can be delusional together.”

The two of them laughed again, fully entertained by the absurdity of the idea—until they noticed Paige wasn’t laughing with them. She just sat there, lips pressed into a tight line, fingers playing with the ring on her finger.

The laughter died down and Ice leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Paige bro, please be serious.”

Paige met her gaze. “I am.”

Ice blinked at her, still trying to process Paige’s words. “There’s literally no way Azzi is cheating on you.”

Paige exhaled, shaking her head. “She’s been gone every morning this week when I wake up and she turned off her location for everyone.”

Jana and Ice exchanged a look but still didn’t seem convinced.

Ice shrugged. “Okay… yeah, that’s a tiny bit weird. But come on—we’re talking about Azzi Fudd here. The same Azzi that is probably the textbook definition of down bad when it comes to you.”

Paige didn’t respond. Their words were supposed to be reassuring, but they did little to ease all the questions in her head. She leaned back in the chair, absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger, her thoughts spiraling.

Ice and Jana sighed in unison before giving each other a look. Without a word, Jana pulled out her phone and started dialing.

Paige frowned. “Who are you calling?”

Jana didn’t answer. Instead, she pressed speaker as the call connected.

“Hello?” Caroline’s voice came through, sounding slightly confused.

Jana didn’t waste time. “What the hell is Azzi doing?”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Huh?” Caroline genuinely sounded completely lost.

Jana didn’t hesitate in adding. “Paige thinks Azzi is cheating on her.”

There was a loud what?! in the background, followed by clatter—something dropping, then frantic shuffling.

A second later, Azzi’s voice cut through the speaker, calmer this time. “What did you just say?”

Jana glanced at Paige, silently asking if she should keep going. Paige quickly shook her head, eyes wide, mouthing no.

But Ice ignored her. “Paige thinks you’re cheating on her.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Where’d you hear that?” Azzi asked.

“From Paige,” Ice answered bluntly. “She’s sitting right here actually.”

Paige groaned, sinking further into the chair as she dragged her hands down her face. She could feel Azzi’s reaction through the phone, even without seeing her.

Azzi exhaled sharply. “Give her the phone.”

Jana handed Paige the phone, and she took it off speaker, pressing it against her ear.

“Hello,” she said, her voice quiet.

There was a pause on the other end before Azzi spoke. “Baby, what’s going on?”

Paige swallowed, shifting in her seat. “Nothing.”

Azzi sighed. “Paige.”

“What?” Paige responded. There was a distance in her tone that Azzi immediately picked up on.

“Are you seriously thinking I’d cheat on you?” Azzi asked, her voice softer now.

Paige stared at the floor, rolling the ring on her finger. “I don’t know what to think right now.”

Azzi was silent for a moment before saying, “Baby, come on.”

Paige closed her eyes at the nickname but didn’t respond.

Azzi exhaled. “Talk to me.”

Paige hesitated before finally saying, “You’ve been gone every morning this week.”

“And that makes you jump to the conclusion that I’m cheating?”

Paige’s grip on the phone tightened. “I don’t want to think that,” she admitted. “But you won’t tell me where you are without lying about it. What else am I supposed to think?”

Azzi let out a slow breath. “Paige… I promise you, I'm not cheating on you. I would never do that to you baby.”

“Then tell me,” Paige said, still distant.

There was a pause, and Azzi’s tone turned almost guilty. “I will. Just… not right now, okay?”

Paige nodded even though Azzi couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

Azzi sighed. “Paige—”

“I have to go. I'm tired,” Paige interrupted. She wasn’t mad, she doesn’t know what she is, but she also didn’t want to keep going in circles.

Azzi hesitated, then said softly, “I love you.”

Paige closed her eyes for a second before saying. “I love you too.”

But when she hung up, the weight in her chest was still there.

Wordlessly, she tossed the phone back to Jana and stood up, not bothering to explain herself. She walked to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

When Paige got to her room, she didn’t bother with anything else. She pulled her phone out and set it to Do Not Disturb, the familiar action a small, automatic comfort. Then, without a second thought, she pulled off her hoodie and crawled into bed, burying herself under the covers as if they could shield her from everything.

On the other side of campus, Azzi was sitting with Caroline, surrounded by an array of balloons and flowers.

Azzi let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her head back against the wall. “Fuck, I didn’t think this through.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys were good. Why is she jumping to conclusions?”

Azzi shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Her ex cheated on her,” she stated simply.

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

When Azzi didn’t say anything in return Caroline added, “I really thought she’d piece together you were doing something for her birthday.”

Azzi shook her head, letting out a long breath. “She doesn’t like her birthday. She probably doesn’t even know it’s tomorrow.”

Caroline nodded. “What do you want to do?”

Azzi grabbed her phone, unlocking it and scrolling to her and Paige’s messages. She paused when she saw that Paige’s phone was set to Do Not Disturb. A wave of frustration hit her as she stared at the screen for a moment.

She sighed, tossing the phone onto the floor. “Let’s just finish this. We’re almost done.”

…

Practice was the first time Paige and Azzi saw one another that day and Paige was doing everything in her power to keep her distance. She focused on the drills, moving mechanically–perfectly and stayed glued to KK’s side whenever possible.

Their only real interactions came in fleeting touches—quick hand slaps after a good play, a murmured "good pass" before moving on. Paige barely looked at Azzi, her focus trained on anything but the girl who had the ability to break her with a few words.

Even when Paige took a hard fall, landing awkwardly and grimacing as she reached for her lower back, she kept the wall up. Azzi was there in an instant, her hands outstretched, eyes scanning Paige with concern. Paige let her help her up.

“You good?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded, forcing out a small, “I’m good.” And then she was already walking away, putting space between them once again.

It wasn’t that Paige was mad at Azzi. Paige just didn’t know what to think, her thoughts were too scattered and her only solution to making sure they didn’t get anymore scattered was to be perfect in practice. She would talk to Azzi later if her girlfriend tried to.

…

Later that night Paige had been trying to force herself to sleep for some time now—she really had. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking. She was confused. Her and Azzi had never even really argued, so none of her trains of thought made any sense. The silence in her room was suffocating, and the questions spun in her head faster than she could catch them.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard a knock on the door. She chose not to respond, hoping it would go away, but the door creaked open anyway, and she knew it was Azzi.

Azzi shut the door quietly behind her, her eyes immediately finding the lump on Paige’s bed. She knew that Paige wasn’t asleep—she could never fall asleep on her side like that.

With a soft sigh, Azzi slipped off her hoodie and shoes before climbing into the bed beside Paige. She didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence linger, hoping maybe Paige would be the one to break it. But when the quiet stretched on, Azzi couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Baby,” Azzi said softly, her voice full of the weight she felt.

Paige, still tucked under the covers, murmured, “Hm?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can you look at me, please?”

Paige slowly pulled the covers back from her head, her eyes shifting to Azzi. Her gaze held the same softness she always had for Azzi but there was a distance in it. Azzi let out a soft sigh when she saw the expression on Paige's face.

“I’m not Leah, Paige,” Azzi said. Her voice was tinged with frustration and a hint of hurt.

Paige blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know that, Az.”

Azzi’s gaze softened, but the tension in her chest was still there. “I’m not cheating on you. I promise. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Paige just nodded, her emotions too tangled for her to find the right words.

Azzi leaned closer. “What do I need to do to prove it to you?”

Paige shook her head slightly, her gaze dropping. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. I’m fine.”

Azzi wasn't convinced. “You’re not.”

Paige opened her mouth to argue, but Azzi cut her off. “Did you or did you not tell Ice and Jana that you thought I was cheating?”

Paige let out a deep sigh, looking away for a moment before she spoke. “I was just talking, baby.”

Azzi shook her head slowly, her eyes serious. “No, Paige. You weren’t just talking. You were worried and that’s okay, but you have to talk to me about it…”

Paige opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. She hesitated, her thoughts tangled up with her emotions. She licked her lips, her gaze steady on Azzi before she finally spoke. “I wouldn’t survive if you cheated on me.”

Azzi’s heart clenched at her words. Without thinking, she reached for Paige, gently cupping her face in her hands. “I Promise I’m not. I just need you to trust me. Like you’ve been doing since we met.”

“I’m serious, Azzi,” Paige whispered. She paused, gathering her thoughts, before continuing, “When I say I wouldn’t survive, I mean that...I—I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I’ve... I feel like I’ve given you a part of me, and I don’t know what I would do if…”

Azzi didn’t let her finish. She couldn’t—not when she saw the way Paige’s eyes glistened, the way her voice wavered.

“Paige,” Azzi murmured, her thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks. “Baby, look at me.”

Paige blinked rapidly, her throat working as she tried to steady herself.

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Azzi said, her voice softer now, more certain. “And I need you to hear me when I tell you that you will never have to find out what that feels like.”

Paige’s jaw tensed, her lips pressing together, but she didn’t pull away. Azzi took it as permission to keep going.

“I know what it’s like to give someone a part of you, because I’ve given you a piece of me.” Azzi said, her hands still cradling Paige’s face, grounding her. “And I know how terrifying that is. But, baby, I’m holding what you gave me with everything I have. I swear to you, I would never break you like that.”

Paige exhaled shakily, her hands lifting to rest over Azzi’s. Her fingers curled around Azzi’s wrists, holding onto her like she needed to feel the promise in her words.

“I love you Paige Madison,” Azzi whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “More than anything, more than I ever thought I could love someone. And I need you to believe me when I say that you don’t have to be scared of me hurting you.”

Paige let out a breath, a small, broken sound, before she nodded. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t all at once, but Azzi felt the shift. The walls Paige had built out of fear the last few days weren’t down completely, but they were cracking, letting Azzi in.

“I love you too,” Paige whispered, her voice a little steadier now.

Azzi kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment before wrapping her arms around Paige, pulling her into her chest.

The two of them laid silently like that for a while. Azzi’s words linger as Paige allows them to untangle all of the thoughts in her head.

After a while Azzi breaks the silence with a small smile on her face. “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

Paige groaned, closing her eyes as if she could physically block out Azzi’s teasing. “Azzi.”

“What? You basically admitted that you wouldn’t survive without me.” Azzi smirked. “Kinda obsessed, don’t ya think?”

Paige let out a soft huff, but Azzi didn’t miss the way her lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile. “Shut up.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to Paige’s forehead. “You love me.”

Paige sighed dramatically, finally opening her eyes again. “Unfortunately.”

Azzi gasped. “Unfortunately?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause now I’m stuck with you.”

Azzi grinned, rolling onto her back and tugging Paige with her so she was resting against her chest. “You sure are”

Paige let herself relax, listening to the steady rhythm of Azzi’s heartbeat beneath her ear. The tension from earlier wasn’t completely gone, but it had eased into something lighter.

After a beat of silence, Paige mumbled, “You should’ve just told me if you wanted to have a secret girlfriend.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Shut up. I just can’t ruin the surprise.”

Paige furrowed her brows, lifting her head slightly. “Surprise?”

Azzi’s body went still for half a second before she quickly recovered, shrugging. “Nothing.”

Paige narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Azzi.”

Azzi looked away dramatically. “Wow, look at the time. We should get some rest, it's pretty late.”

Paige huffed but let it go, settling back against her. “Fine.”

Azzi smiled to herself, tightening her arms around Paige. “Goodnight, stalker.”

Paige pinched her side, making Azzi yelp. “Goodnight, princess.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing one last kiss into Paige’s hair before they both let their eyes drift shut.

…

The next morning Paige stirred against the warmth beneath her, her face buried against soft skin as she slowly drifted toward consciousness. She barely registered the gentle weight of a hand resting on her shoulder, fingers absentmindedly tracing over her back. A quiet sigh left her lips when she realized Azzi was still here. She shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent.

Azzi chuckled softly, setting her phone down and glancing down at Paige with a smile. “Good morning, birthday girl.”

Paige let out a low grumble, her forehead pressing against Azzi’s thigh as she squeezed her eyes shut. “S’too early for allat,” she mumbled, her voice still raspy from sleep.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, running her fingers through Paige’s hair. “Too early for your own birthday?”

Paige frowned slightly, still half-asleep, before cracking one eye open in confusion. She blinked up at Azzi, her mind sluggishly catching up. “…Wait.”

Azzi’s smile widened. “Yeah, genius. It’s your birthday.”

Paige let out another groggy noise, her face pressing back into Azzi’s lap like she could hide from the realization. “Mmm. Five more minutes.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head as she gently tugged at Paige’s arm. “Nope, no hiding. You’re officially the birthday girl, and I’m officially on annoying girlfriend duty.”

Paige groaned dramatically, but there was no real protest as Azzi leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “Happy birthday, baby.”

A small smile tugged at Paige’s lips. “Mmm. Now a kiss, I wouldn’t mind.”

“You have morning breath.”

Paige scoffed, eyes finally opening fully as she shifted to look up at Azzi. “That’s never stopped you before… If I remember correctly, there was this one time where you were begging me to—”

Azzi immediately cut her off with an eye roll, already knowing exactly where she was going. “Okay, okay, that’s enough.”

Paige pouted dramatically when Azzi still didn’t give her a kiss. “I thought it was supposed to be my birthday or something.”

Azzi let out an exasperated sigh but couldn’t hide her smile as she shifted, adjusting so she could comfortably lean down. “You’re annoying,” she mumbled before pressing her lips against Paige’s.

The kiss started slowly—the kind that made Paige melt further into Azzi’s lap. Azzi’s hand slid up, cupping Paige’s jaw, her thumb tracing the edge of her cheek as she deepened the kiss just slightly. Paige responded, tilting her head, her fingers curling around Azzi’s wrist to keep her close.

Azzi hummed against her lips, letting the kiss stretch longer than she intended. It was too easy to lose herself in the warmth of Paige, in the way her lips moved against her own. Paige let out a quiet sigh, her other hand gripping at Azzi’s thigh.

When Azzi finally pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, she smirked down at Paige. “Satisfied now, birthday girl?”

Paige’s lips were still parted, her eyes half-lidded as she took a second to process. Then, with a grin, she muttered, “That’s more like it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. She let her fingers brush lazily through Paige’s hair for a few more moments to give her some time to fully wake up before shifting beneath her and saying, “Alright, time to get up.”

Paige barely reacted at first, her eyes still half-lidded as she remained comfortably curled up against Azzi. But then the words actually registered, and she blinked up at Azzi like she had lost her mind. “What?”

Azzi smirked, tapping her shoulder. “You heard me. Get up.”

Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face back into Azzi’s stomach. “Why can’t we just stay in bed all day? My back still hurts.”

Azzi’s smirk faded, her brows knitting together. She immediately sat up a little straighter. “Wait—are you serious?”

Paige hesitated for half a second, realizing too late that she had triggered Azzi’s worry. She let out another groan, knowing she couldn’t just brush it off now. “I’m okay,” she mumbled. “It’s just a little sore.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, scanning Paige’s expression like she was trying to gauge if she was lying. Then, without warning, she grabbed a pillow and smacked Paige with it.

Paige let out a startled noise, sitting up with wide eyes. “What the hell?!”

“That’s for making me worry, idiot,” Azzi huffed, but there was clear relief in her voice.

Paige pouted, rubbing her head where the pillow had made an impact. “Abuse. On my birthday.”

Azzi rolled her eyes before tossing the pillow aside. “Yeah, yeah. Now get up.”

Paige grumbled as she got up heading for the bathroom. Azzi followed behind her.

Once they had both showered and brushed their teeth, Azzi now leaned against the dresser, her gaze trailing over Paige as she finished getting dressed. “You look too good.”

Paige laughed, tugging the sleeves of her orange hoodie over her hands. “I didn’t even do anything special.”

And she really didn’t. Just a hoodie and beige splatter jeans—simple. But to Azzi, Paige looked good in anything. Too good when she wasn’t in oversized sweats. Her hair was down, slightly tousled, and it only made things worse. Azzi sighed, reaching out to play with the ends of Paige’s hair between her fingers, mumbling something under her breath.

Paige smirked, catching the soft words. “What was that?” She stepped closer, tilting her head as she pulled Azzi in by the waist.

Azzi huffed, avoiding eye contact. “Can you at least put your hair up?”

Paige chuckled. “That’s what you want me to do, pretty?”

Azzi nodded, a little too quickly, and Paige shook her head with a quiet laugh. She reached for one of the hair ties on her wrist, gathering her hair and putting it into a low bun. Once she finished, she turned back to Azzi, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

Azzi groaned, running a hand down her face.Because somehow, somehow, Paige still looked too good. Maybe even better. The bun was too perfect.

Paige chuckled, reaching out to tug playfully at Azzi’s jacket. “Doesn’t matter what I look like. You look better, baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the slight upturn of her lips gave her away. She had thrown on a brown set she’d just gotten from a Savage X Fenty ad—a cropped top that showed off her piercing, paired with matching sweats. A jacket was draped over her shoulders to keep herself warm, but Paige still caught glimpses of her toned stomach every time Azzi moved. To top it all off, she had on a pair of Paige’s shoes that matched perfectly.

Azzi didn’t bother to address Paige’s compliment, she just grabbed Paige’s hand, intertwining their fingers as she pulled her toward the door. Paige followed, but her brows furrowed slightly when they stepped into the common area, and it was completely empty. Considering they had today off, she had expected at least some of their teammates to be lounging around or causing chaos.

She glanced at Azzi. “Where is everyone?”

Azzi smiled, grabbing her keys from the counter. “I banned them from bothering you today.”

Paige laughed at that, amused but also silently wondering how long that ban would actually last. Their teammates weren’t exactly known for respecting personal space—especially on birthdays.

Azzi led them out, and as they walked toward the car, Paige instinctively veered toward the passenger side, only to watch in amusement as Azzi did the same. She stopped, giving Azzi a look as the other girl casually opened the door and slid inside.

Paige just shook her head, laughing under her breath as she got into the driver’s seat. “Passenger princess.”

Azzi shot her a glare, but the effect was ruined by the way she was already reaching for the seat heater and adjusting the radio.

…

When they got to the diner, Paige slid into the same side of the booth as Azzi, pressing up against her like it was second nature. Azzi just rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything, the small smile tugging at her lips giving away just how much she liked it.

Azzi picked up the menu, scanning it for options, but Paige didn’t even bother. Instead, she rested her chin on her hand and just stared at Azzi, watching her like she was the most interesting thing in the room.

Azzi didn’t look up as she spoke. “The answer to what you’re going to eat isn’t on my face Paige.”

Paige smirked. “I meannn…”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head. “I’m serious.”

Paige just shrugged. “You can order for me.”

Azzi finally looked at her, raising a brow. “I’m not your mother.”

Paige grinned. “You’re my girl.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, but this time, a faint blush dusted her cheeks as she glanced back at the menu. “Whatever, idiot.”

When the waiter approached the table, Paige and Azzi were leaned in close, their forearms resting against the table as they talked. The space between them was practically nonexistent, their faces just inches apart as Paige whispered something that made Azzi bite back a smile.

The waiter hesitated for a second too long, eyes flickering between both of them as if she couldn’t decide which one to focus on..

Clearing her throat, the waiter straightened her notepad. “Hey! Welcome in. Are you guys ready to order?”

Azzi gave a polite smile, her voice smooth as she said, “Good morning. Yeah, we are.”

Paige smiled at how effortlessly charming Azzi could be, but instead of saying anything, she reached under the table, lightly tracing her fingers along Azzi’s leg. Azzi, already scanning the menu, didn’t even flinch.

“She’ll have the pancakes, her eggs scrambled with cheese, and a side of bacon—extra crispy,” Azzi said, eyes still on the menu.

Paige grinned, pleased with the order, but she wasn’t done bothering Azzi. She slid her hand up slightly, fingers toying with the hem of Azzi’s cropped top. Azzi casually smacked Paige’s hand away without even pausing.

The waiter blinked, caught between amusement and curiosity as she watched the interaction unfold.

“For me, the avocado toast with an extra egg, and a side of bacon and fruit,” Azzi said, as if nothing had happened. Paige, still being annoying, nudged their knees together, her smirk growing. Azzi sighed through her nose but kept her cool. “Two coffees please, one just black and the other with cream.”

The waiter nodded, scribbling down the order, though her gaze still flickered between both of them. Azzi had this quiet confidence about her, like she was used to being listened to. And the way they interacted, how effortlessly Azzi spoke for Paige and how easily Paige let her, it was enough to make anyone curious.

“Got it. I’ll, uh, get that in for you guys,” the waiter said quickly before scurrying off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Paige tilted her head, still watching Azzi like she was the only thing in the room. “You see that? You made her nervous.”

Azzi scoffed, not even addressing Paige’s comment as she went back to the story she was telling Paige before the waiter came over.

When the waiter returned with their food a bit later, Azzi was now leaning in close, her lips just barely brushing against Paige’s ear as she whispered something. Whatever she said had Paige’s eyes slightly blown, her jaw tightening as she tried to keep her expression neutral. But Azzi knew better. She smirked against Paige’s skin, satisfied with the effect she had on her.

The waiter hesitated, clearing her throat as she carefully set the plates down. Azzi turned to her with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Paige exhaled slowly, trying to pull herself back together as she finally looked up. The moment the waiter locked eyes with her, she froze. She hadn't actually seen Paige’s eyes last time—hadn’t realized just how beautiful and striking the shade of blue was. And paired with whatever intensity Paige was still carrying from Azzi’s words, it nearly knocked the air out of her.

“Th—” The waiter stumbled over her words but quickly recovered. “Th-there you go, enjoy.”

Paige swallowed, her voice slightly rough as she murmured, “Thank you.”

The sound of it, sent the poor waiter fumbling with the cream and sugar box she was holding. It tipped forward, teetering off the tray, and before she could react, Paige’s reflexes kicked in. She caught it.

Azzi let out a small chuckle, clearly amused.

The waiter, meanwhile, looked like she was about to pass out. “Oh my god, I am so sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Paige said, lips twitching slightly as she handed it back.

The waiter quickly nodded, backing away, clearly rattled. “R-right, okay, enjoy your food!” She practically rushed off after that.

Paige finally turned back to Azzi, who was watching her. “What?” Paige asked, reaching for her fork.

Azzi just shook her head, pretending to focus on her plate. “Nothing.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Azzi.”

Azzi finally looked up, smile growing. “You flustered her.”

Paige scoffed. “You flustered me.”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Exactly.” Then she picked up her fork, completely unbothered.

The two of them enjoyed their breakfast. Talking casually, Paige listened as Azzi talked about her classes and how excited she was for the season to pick up.

As the waiter returns with the check, she finds Paige and Azzi still seated close together, plates mostly empty. Azzi’s arm is draped lazily along the back of the booth behind Paige, her fingers tracing against her neck.

The waiter sets the check down and lets out a small laugh. “I have to say, you two are probably the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen in person. It’s actually kind of unfair.”

Paige smirks, sitting back slightly, but it’s Azzi who responds with a small laugh. “You’d be surprised about how often we hear that.”

The waiter chuckles. “I bet. What do you guys do, anyway? You look like models or something.”

Azzi shakes her head. “We play basketball.”

The waiter’s eyebrows raise in interest. “Oh, like for college?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah, UConn.”

The recognition is immediate. “Wait—UConn? Like, UConn UConn?”

Azzi grins. “The one and only.”

The waiter whistles. “Damn. No wonder you both look like that.” She glances between them again, eyes flickering over Paige, who just quirks a brow but stays quiet.

“Something like that,” Azzi says, clearly entertained.

The waiter shifts on her feet before hesitating. “Okay, so… this is probably super inappropriate, and I swear I don’t usually do this,” she says, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But I have to ask because I’ll never get this opportunity again and I’ll probably regret it later if I don’t at least try—are you two looking for a third?”

Paige, mid-sip of her water, immediately chokes, coughing hard as she nearly knocks the glass over. Azzi’s amusement disappears. “Oh my god—baby, breathe,” she says, concern lacing her voice as she rubs Paige’s back. Paige tries to wave her off, but Azzi isn’t having it. She grabs Paige’s drink, checking how much is left to figure out how much she choked on before pushing it aside and reaching for a napkin.

Paige, still coughing, manages to wheeze out, “What—I—Azzi, what did she just say?”

The waiter winces.

Azzi exhales, shaking her head. “You good now?” she murmurs, still rubbing her back.

Paige, voice still a little hoarse, wipes her mouth and glares at Azzi when she feels her girlfriend’s body shaking with small laughter beside her. “Don’t,” Paige warns.

Azzi lets out a laugh once she realizes Paige is fine. She looks back at the waiter with a polite smile, “I respect it, but we’re good. Really.”

The waiter shrugs with a grin. “Had to shoot my shot.” She backs away with a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day, birthday girl.”

Paige groans, rubbing her temples as Azzi leans in. “I mean… should I be flattered or jealous?”

Paige just huffs, shaking her head. “Get me out of here.”

…

As they pulled back onto campus, Paige was ready to head straight to the dorms, but when Azzi told her to drive to the gym instead, she shot her a confused look.

“Why?”

“I told them your back was sore, so you have the ice tub waiting for you.”

Paige groaned, letting her head fall back against the headrest. “Azzi, you know I hate those, bro.”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed. “One, don’t ‘bro’ me. And two, I don’t care.”

Paige turned to her, her lips pulling into a dramatic pout. “I thought you were supposed to be nice to me today.”

“I am,” Azzi replied. “I need you to have a good back for later.”

Paige raised a brow at that. “What’s later?”

Azzi just shrugged, staring out the window. “Whatever you want.”

Paige clenched her jaw, gripping the wheel a little tighter as she headed for the gym.

When they stepped into the locker room, both Paige and Azzi quickly stripped out of their clothes, swapping them for sports bras and spandex. Paige stretched her arms over her head, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince, which, of course, Azzi noticed immediately.

“You sure it’s just sore?” Azzi asked.

Paige sighed, already knowing Azzi wouldn’t drop it. “Yes, mom. Just sore.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Keep calling me that and see what happens.”

Paige smirked. “Oh? And what’s gonna happen?”

Azzi only raised a brow, saying nothing as she grabbed her phone and started heading toward the training room. Paige followed, falling into step beside her.

After a second, Azzi glanced at her. “So, what’s your ideal birthday?”

Paige thought about it for a second before shrugging. “I mean… I don’t really care that much. I like spending time with people I like, eating good food…chillin.”

Azzi hummed. “So basically what we’ve been doing today.”

Paige grinned. “Exactly.”

Azzi shook her head with a small smile. “You’re easy to please.”

Paige bumped her shoulder against Azzi’s. “You already knew that.”

Paige eased herself into the ice bath, a sharp groan escaping her lips as the cold water bit at her skin. She tensed immediately, her muscles instinctively trying to reject the freezing temperature before she forced herself to settle. After a few moments, she exhaled and relaxed into the tub.

Azzi, however, remained outside of it, perched on the edge.

Paige glanced up at her, brows furrowing. “Why aren’t you coming in?”

Azzi shrugged. “I’m fine. You’re the one with the sore back.”

“Then why’d you change?”

Azzi smiled, tilting her head slightly. “Because I figured you’d beg me to get in eventually.”

Paige scoffed, a slow grin creeping onto her face. “So let’s just get it over with.”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head, but set her phone down and stood. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, but there was no real bite behind her words.

Paige watched as Azzi stepped onto the first submerged step, her body immediately tensing at the temperature. She inhaled sharply through her nose.

“This is awful,” Azzi muttered, her entire expression contorted in discomfort.

Paige chuckled, shifting slightly in the water. “C���mon, tough girl. It’s not that bad.”

Azzi glared at her as she took another step, the water creeping up her legs. “Says the one who was groaning like she got stabbed two seconds ago.”

Paige smirked. “You were listening that closely?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile on her lips. She continued lowering herself into the bath, until she was finally settled in front of Paige. She watched Paige with quiet curiosity as she reached for a hair tie resting on the edge of the pool. Without a word, Paige lifted her hands, still damp from the water, and gathered Azzi’s curls, gently twisting them into a bun. Her fingers moved with a familiar ease, securing the tie in place before letting her hands linger for a moment.

“That bad, huh?”

Paige smirked. “Just figured you’d complain about it getting wet.”

Azzi scoffed, tilting her head slightly as a few curls escaped, still framing her face. “I don’t complain that much.”

Paige hummed in amusement, dragging her fingers along Azzi’s arm under the water. “Mmm, sure.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again but leaned into Paige’s touch, letting her hands momentarily distract from the icy temperature surrounding them. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Paige grinned. “I know.”

Azzi felt Paige’s gentle but insistent pull, her body naturally following the motion. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice dipping with suspicion.

Paige barely lifted her head. “Kissing my girl,” she mumbled, and before Azzi could think of a response, Paige was pressing their mouths together.

Azzi allowed herself to melt into the kiss, her hands instinctively finding Paige’s forearms under the water. The chill of the ice bath was a stark contrast to the heat building between them as Paige’s tongue swiped over her lips, silently asking for entrance. Azzi parted them, letting Paige deepen the kiss, her fingers curling slightly against Paige’s skin.

But just as Paige was about to pull her closer, Azzi broke away, her breath slightly uneven. “We’re not supposed to be making out in the ice bath,” she whispered, though she made no effort to move back.

Paige tilted her head. “Who made that rule up?”

Azzi opened her mouth, but no answer came. She frowned, realizing she didn’t actually have one.

Paige smirked, her grip on Azzi tightening just a little. “Exactly.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh against Paige’s lips but didn’t resist when Paige pulled her back in for another kiss. This time, it was slower—controlled—but it didn’t take long for Paige to push it further, her hands trailing along Azzi’s sides under the water.

Azzi chuckled against her mouth, sensing where this was going. “Paige—”

But Paige ignored her, tilting her head and pressing hot, lingering kisses along Azzi’s neck. “I can’t help it,” she murmured between kisses, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin. “You’re too sexy. Look good all the time. You got that sexy bun in and everything.”

Azzi felt a shiver run down her spine, despite the chill around them. She tried to keep her composure, but it was hard with Paige’s lips trailing down her neck, leaving soft marks. Azzi chuckled softly, trying to focus. "We’re literally in a tub of ice, Paige," she said.

Paige hummed in response, unbothered. "Exactly, gotta keep us warm." She let her lips move lower, brushing against Azzi’s collarbone. Azzi's breath hitched, betraying her resolve to keep it light.

Paige wasn’t rushing. She marked Azzi’s skin slowly, savoring the moment, but Azzi could tell she was toying with her. The way Paige murmured against her skin, telling her how beautiful she looked, how good she always looked—it made Azzi’s pulse quicken despite the ice bath.

Azzi tried to resist, but she could feel her resolve slipping with each soft kiss, each gentle swipe of Paige’s tongue. Her head tipped back slightly, giving Paige better access as she surrendered to the moment and tangled her wet hands in Paige’s hair. But despite how good it felt, the awareness of their surroundings began to creep in.

Azzi listened for a moment, hearing the distant sound of footsteps, voices echoing down the hall. She pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze. "I don’t want anyone to walk in, baby."

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was a flicker of understanding behind her eyes. She sighed dramatically, releasing Azzi’s waist but not fully letting go of her. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

Azzi laughed, brushing a few strands of hair out of Paige’s face. “I just don’t want us getting caught in here looking like... well, like this. Basically a free show.”

Paige relented and the two of them sat next to one another for a few minutes until the timer went off.

Once they were done the two of them walked out of the training room, slipping down the hallway toward the locker room.

When they arrived, they noticed something was off—the lights were out, the hallway eerily quiet. Paige furrowed her brow, glancing at Azzi. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.

Before either of them could reach for the door, it swung open suddenly with a loud crash, and the lights flashed on. The team erupted from the darkness, jumping out from their hiding spots with a chorus of “Happy Birthday!”

Paige froze, her eyes wide, her heart skipping a beat at the loudness. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before a grin spread across her face.

The team cheered again, clapping and hollering as they rushed forward to surround Paige. “Happy Birthday, P Boogers!” KK shouted, pulling Paige into a big hug.

“Surprise!” Ice added, tossing a small confetti popper into the air.

Paige laughed, clearly touched by the gesture.

Jana handed her a small cake, and Ayanna placed a birthday crown on her head. “We couldn’t let you get away without a proper celebration.”

Paige looked over at Azzi, catching her eye. "You helped plan this, didn't you?" Paige asked.

Azzi just shrugged. "Maybe."

Paige rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop smiling as the team continued to “bother” her with pictures and singing.

After spending time in the locker room, laughing and joking with the team as they celebrated her birthday, Paige finally leaned back against her locker, feeling warm. The day had been unexpectedly perfect, and she was grateful for everyone who had put it together—including Azzi, who had been quietly watching her the entire time.

Just as Paige was about to sink further into the moment, Azzi nudged her side. “Alright, it’s time to go.”

Paige turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Go where?”

Azzi just smirked, standing up and grabbing her phone. “Don’t worry about it.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Azzi—”

“Nope,” Azzi cut her off. “Just trust me.”

Paige exhaled, giving her a look. “I don’t like surprises.”

Azzi huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll like this one.”

Paige studied her for a moment, trying to read her expression, but Azzi just held out her hand. With a sigh, Paige finally took it, letting Azzi pull her to her feet. “This better not be some weird conditioning session disguised as a birthday gift,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi grinned. “That would be funny, but no.”

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t fight it as Azzi led her out of the locker room.

When Azzi pulled up to a building Paige had never seen before, she frowned, glancing out the window in confusion. The area was unfamiliar, and that alone had her on edge.

Azzi shifted beside her, pulling something from her bag. “Alright,” she said, holding up a black blindfold. “Do you trust me?”

Paige looked at her suspiciously, eyeing the blindfold. “You’re not trying to kill me, right?”

Azzi burst out laughing, shaking her head. “No, baby. I promise.”

Paige still hesitated, glancing between the blindfold and Azzi’s expression. “Then why do I need to be blindfolded?”

Azzi pouted. “Because it’s a surprise. Please, baby?” Her voice softened, taking on that tone she always used when she wanted something from Paige.

Paige exhaled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, but when Azzi tilted her head just a little, still pouting, she sighed in defeat. “Fine,” she mumbled.

Azzi grinned, stepping behind her to gently tie the blindfold over her eyes. “Good girl,” she whispered, adjusting the knot.

Paige huffed. “I swear, Azzi, if this is some elaborate prank—”

“It’s not,” Azzi reassured her, placing a quick kiss on her jaw. “Now, come on.”

Paige swallowed, her senses already heightened now that she couldn’t see. She let Azzi take her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm, and allowed herself to be led forward, the anticipation building with every step.

Azzi guided Paige carefully up a short flight of steps.

“Almost there,” Azzi whispered, her voice close to Paige’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

When they finally stopped, Paige tilted her head as a soft, familiar melody filled the room. Her ears perked up instantly. “Is that SZA?” she asked.

Azzi chuckled. “Of course.”

Paige bit her lip, curiosity rising as she tried to pick up on more details. The air smelled subtly of something sweet—maybe vanilla—and there was a warmth to the space, a coziness that made her relax despite not knowing where she was.

Azzi adjusted her hands on Paige’s hips. “Stand still for me,” she instructed.

Paige huffed out a laugh but didn’t move. “You always bossing me around.”

Azzi smirked, stepping around her to make sure she was positioned exactly how she wanted. “And you always listen.”

Paige muttered, “Whatever,” under her breath.

Azzi stepped in behind her, pressing close as she whispered, “Close your eyes.”

Paige scoffed. “I literally have on a blindfold.”

“Shut up and close them,” Azzi shot back as she reached up to untie the fabric. She tugged it off smoothly and tossed it to the side before resting her hands lightly on Paige’s shoulders. “Okay, open.”

Paige blinked her eyes open, and for the first time in a long time, she was almost speechless.

The room was softly lit with candles, a warm glow reflecting off the scattered white and purple rose petals forming a trail across the floor. Light purple balloons floated gently, filling the space but not overwhelming it.

At the end of the petal-lined path, a small table sat illuminated by a candle, its soft glow dancing across the surface.

Paige exhaled, glancing over at Azzi, who was watching her reaction carefully, a small smile tugging at her lips. Paige swallowed, her voice quieter than usual. “Azzi…”

Azzi watched Paige closely, her expression softening. “Do you like it?”

Paige turned to her, eyes still flickering around the room in awe. “I love it, baby. But—how did you? When did you—?”

Azzi smiled, shrugging casually. “Every morning this week.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. The realization hit her hard. All those mornings she spent overthinking, spiraling in her head, convinced Azzi was being distant, convinced she was—“Fuck, Az, I’m so sorry,” Paige muttered, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I didn’t—”

Azzi shook her head, stepping closer. “You don’t need to apologize, baby.”

Paige clenched her jaw, looking away. She still felt bad. Really bad. She had been so wrapped up in her own insecurities, so convinced Azzi was pulling away, when in reality—Azzi had been here. Doing this.

Azzi saw it all over her face. “Paige.” She reached for her, slipping her arms around Paige’s waist. “Stop. I wanted to do this for you.”

Paige exhaled shakily, hands settling on Azzi’s hips. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Azzi mumbled, pressing a kiss to Paige’s jaw. “Come on.”

Azzi grabbed Paige’s hand, pulling her toward the table just as a private caterer placed their food down. Paige’s brows lifted in surprise, watching as the dishes were set in front of them.

When she looked down at her plate, a laugh escaped her. It was simple—exactly the kind of meal she liked. Nothing overly fancy or extravagant, just good food that she would actually enjoy.

Azzi smirked. “What? You thought I was gonna have them bring out some five-star, Michelin-style meal with ingredients you can’t pronounce?”

Paige grinned as she sat down, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Azzi sat across from her, reaching for her fork. “I know you, baby,” she said, eyes flickering up to meet Paige’s. “I wasn’t about to have you sitting here picking at your food all night.”

Paige exhaled, a warmth spreading in her chest as she looked at Azzi. “You really thought of everything, huh?”

“Of course.”

As they ate, Paige’s eyes kept drifting around the room, taking in every little detail—every petal, every candle, every soft touch that Azzi had so carefully put together. The guilt gnawed at her again, heavier this time.

She set her fork down, exhaling. “Az, I’m really sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I feel like an ass.”

With a small sigh, Azzi stood up, adjusting her chair so she was right next to Paige. Once she was settled, she leaned in, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Stop apologizing, baby.”

Before Paige could say anything else, Azzi’s fingers curled around her jaw, tilting her face toward her. She searched Paige’s eyes for a moment, before pulling her into a slow kiss.

Paige melted instantly, her hand resting on Azzi’s thigh as she sighed into the kiss. When Azzi pulled away, she ran her thumb over Paige’s bottom lip, smirking. “Just enjoy your night, okay?”

Paige swallowed, dazed. “Okay,” she murmured.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, slipping between them teasing each other like they had been best friends for years and more genuine moments. The whole time, Azzi’s foot was lazily running up and down Paige’s leg.

“You really did all this by yourself?” Paige asked, glancing around again in disbelief.

Azzi smiled. “Well, I had some help from Caroline setting up the table and everything, but yeah. Every morning this week, like I said.”

Paige shook her head, setting her fork down for a moment. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Azzi grinned. “That’s a first.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Azzi just chuckled, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to do something special for you, baby. You do so much for everyone else all the time. I wanted to make sure you felt special today.”

Paige felt something stir in her chest at Azzi’s words, a warmth settling in her stomach. She looked down at her plate, taking another bite instead of answering right away.

Azzi’s foot brushed against her calf again, but Paige didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she hummed. “You’re really out here setting the bar too high. What am I supposed to do for your birthday?”

“You’ve got a little time to figure it out.”

Paige shook her head with a small smile. “Yeah. But I don’t think I can top this.”

Azzi shrugged. “You don’t have to top anything. Just being with you is enough.”

Paige held her gaze for a moment before laughing softly. “You’re corny.”

“That’s ironic coming from you.”

Paige scoffed. “I’m not corny.”

Azzi gave her a look, tilting her head slightly to the side, her expression making it clear she wasn’t buying it. Paige just smirked, refusing to argue.

She looked away for a second, but when her eyes found Azzi again, her breath caught slightly. Azzi had that look—the one that always made Paige’s pulse race. Her lips were caught between her teeth, her gaze locked onto Paige.

Paige swallowed, keeping her expression neutral. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Azzi’s smirk grew as her foot traced a lazy path up and down Paige’s leg beneath the table. “Like what?”

“You know like what.”

Azzi hummed, taking a long sip as she finished off her wine, fingers tapping lightly against the glass. “Maybe I just like looking at my girlfriend.”

Paige arched an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

Azzi shrugged, dragging her foot just a little higher before settling again. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Paige smirked, leaning back in her chair, but her eyes never left Azzi’s.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her gaze not leaving Paige’s, a clear challenge now simmering between them.

Azzi leaned forward, her chin resting lightly on her palm as she watched Paige with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Paige’s smirk only deepened. She slowly licked her lips, the movement deliberate, drawing Azzi’s focus.

They continued their silent exchange, neither willing to break the stare. Paige could feel the heat building in the pit of her stomach, the playful game they were playing taking on an entirely different edge.

Paige finally broke the silence, her voice low. “You think you can win this, huh?”

Azzi’s smile formed slowly. “I don’t think I’m losing.”

Paige's pupils grew slightly. "You forgetting, I usually have you begging by the end of the night, Az?”

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile, leaning forward just enough to close the space between them. "You forgetting I can get you off without touching you Paige?" Her tone was a mixture of playful arrogance and something more seductive.

Paige’s breath caught for a moment, her heart rate quickening.

Paige stood up suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor just enough to break the lingering tension in the air. Without saying a word, she made her way toward the door. Azzi pushed herself up from her seat with a smooth, almost predatory grace, and followed Paige out without another word.

Azzi was itching to get them back to the dorms, her heart racing in anticipation, but as she slid into the driver’s seat, her grip tightened around the steering wheel. Despite the urgent desire gnawing at her, she couldn’t help but slow her pace, taking her time on the road.

When they got upstairs Azzi watched Paige with a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The way Paige moved wasn't like her usual fire. Normally, the heat between them would have ignited as soon as they entered the room, but tonight, Paige was different. The calmness was unnerving in a way Azzi wasn’t used to, and she felt the weight of it settle on her chest.

She locked the door behind her, her movements slower than usual, before following Paige to her room. As she entered the room and shut the door behind her, she glanced at Paige, standing at the foot of her bed, hands in her pockets. Azzi felt the air between them shift, and she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what this new version of Paige meant. Her stomach twisted slightly, the uncertainty gnawing at her.

“Why the calm act?” Azzi asked, her voice quieter than usual, but laced with a hint of nervousness. She could feel herself second-guessing, unsure whether Paige was in control or if she was.

Paige’s lips curled into that faint, unreadable smile as she sat down and patted her lap. “Come here, baby.”

Azzi hesitated for just a second, not out of reluctance, but because she started piecing together what Paige’s calmness meant. It wasn’t hesitation—it was patience. Control.

Still, Azzi listened, stepping forward until she was standing between Paige’s legs. Paige leaned back on her elbows, her gaze dragging over Azzi in a way that made Azzi’s stomach tighten.

Paige reached for Azzi’s hand and pulled her down onto her lap. Azzi adjusted automatically, settling against Paige as Paige shifted back, leaning back against the headboard. Paige’s hands slid to her waist, thumbs pressing just enough to make Azzi feel grounded—but not enough to distract from the way Paige was looking at her.

Paige tilted her head, studying her like she had all the time in the world. “You nervous, baby?”

Azzi scoffed. “I don’t get nervous.”

Paige hummed like she wasn’t convinced, her fingers drawing lazy circles on Azzi’s hip. “You sure?”

Azzi started to reply, but the words caught in her throat when Paige shifted beneath her, adjusting her so Azzi was straddling her fully now, their bodies pressed closer.

“That’s funny,” Paige whispered, her voice dropping lower. Her fingers slipped under Azzi’s jacket, teasing her skin. “Because you feel nervous to me.”

Azzi exhaled sharply, gripping Paige’s shoulders, grounding herself. “I’m not.”

Paige didn’t respond to that. Instead, she just looked at Azzi, her expression unreadable, and said, “Gimme a kiss.”

Azzi leaned down, capturing Paige’s lips in a kiss that was meant to be deep—but Paige had other plans.

Paige made sure the kiss was agonizingly slow, dragging it out in a way that forced Azzi to feel every second of it. Even though it was messy, there was no rush, no chance for Azzi to take control. Paige set the pace, tilting her head just enough to deepen it when she wanted, pulling back slightly when Azzi tried to push for more.

Azzi let out a quiet sound of frustration against Paige’s lips, her fingers tightening on her shoulders. Paige smirked into the kiss, her grip on Azzi’s waist tight, keeping her exactly where she wanted her.

“Relax, baby,” Paige mumbled against her lips before diving back in, keeping that same rhythm, making sure Azzi felt every ounce of control she wasn’t being given.

For the next twenty minutes, Paige kept the same slow pace, her lips moving against Azzi’s. There was no urgency, no desperation—just full control. Every time Azzi tried to speed it up, Paige would pull back slightly, tilting her chin up with a smirk before diving right back in.

Azzi’s fingers gripped Paige’s shoulders, her frustration evident in the way she tried to chase her lips. Paige just chuckled against her mouth, her hands rubbing slow circles on Azzi’s waist.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Azzi murmured between kisses, her voice breathless.

Paige hummed, brushing her lips over Azzi’s again but not quite kissing her. “Maybe.”

Azzi huffed, shifting slightly in Paige’s lap, but Paige only tightened her grip, keeping her still.

“Patience, baby,” Paige whispered before kissing her again, deeper this time but still slow.

Azzi let out a quiet whine against Paige’s lips, and Paige felt the sound go straight through her.

“You’re killing me,” Azzi admitted, pulling back just enough to look at Paige.

Paige chuckled, her lips ghosting over Azzi’s. “What’s wrong?”

Azzi huffed, shifting in Paige’s lap, trying to press closer, to silently tell her exactly what she wanted. But Paige’s hands tightened around her hips, holding her in place.

Azzi’s eyes flickered with frustration as she tried again, but Paige didn’t budge.

“Use your words, baby.”

Azzi exhaled sharply, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders. “Paige…”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smirk growing. “Yeah?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, but Paige could see the way her breath hitched, the way she was fighting to hold back another whine.

“Tell me,” Paige coaxed, pressing the faintest kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth before pulling back again.

Azzi swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “I want more.”

Paige smirked against Azzi’s skin, placing slow, wet kisses along her neck, taking her time. “Like what?” she whispered between kisses.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening on Paige’s shoulders. “Anything,” she exhaled, barely above a whisper.

Paige hummed against her skin, letting the word hang between them.

“You sure?” Paige murmured, her lips brushing against Azzi’s pulse point.

Azzi let out a frustrated sigh, tilting her head back slightly hoping she would do something with the extra access. “Paige—”

Paige licks her lips before saying “Touch yourself Az.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. Paige just smirked, tilting her head as she studied Azzi’s reaction.

“Trust me, baby,” Paige whispered, her fingers brushing soothing circles against Azzi’s waist.

Azzi hesitated for only a moment before nodding slowly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Paige smirked at that, satisfied.

“That’s my girl,” Paige whispered, pressing a wet kiss just below Azzi’s jaw.

Without any other directions she adjusts on Paige’s lap for a second. Slipping off her clothes and tossing them to the side before going back to straddling Paige.

Slowly, she started tracing her fingers through her folds, her touch barely there as she let herself explore.

Her eyes flicked to Paige’s, clear desire pooling in her brown eyes. “Like this?” she asked softly.

Paige’s smile deepened. She saw right through Azzi—knew she was putting on a show.

“Mm,” Paige hummed, pretending to consider it, her hands still resting lazily on Azzi’s waist. “You can go slower, baby.”

Azzi bit her lip, following Paige’s instruction, but Paige could see the flicker of impatience in her eyes.

“Good girl,” Paige praised. “Now, keep going.”

Azzi did as she was told. Tracing a few soft circles over her center as Paige watched. Azzi’s patience didn’t last long though. She was more than ready, she had been ready since the moment they stood up from the table. So she easily slides two fingers into herself, sighing softly at the feeling.

Paige doesn’t tear her eyes away from Azzi. Stuck between watching her fingers work and watching every reaction unfold on her face. Her grip on Azzi’s waist tightened just slightly. “Slow down,” she whispered. “You’re rushing mama.”

Azzi exhaled shakily, adjusting just like she was told, her movements becoming more deliberate as she pulled her fingers all the way out before pushing them back in letting out quiet whimpers. Paige watched closely, noting the way Azzi’s brows furrowed, the way her lips parted just slightly as she tried to stay in control.

“Good girl,” Paige praised softly, and she felt the way Azzi tensed in response. “See? You can follow directions when you want to.”

Azzi let out a quiet breath, her fingers still working inside of herself. Paige smirked. She could see the frustration already starting to build.

“Keep going,” Paige instructed, tilting her head back as she watched. “Nice and slow, mama. No need to rush.”

Azzi tried, she really did, but after another moment, she let out a small whimper, her movements faltering. Her head dropped onto Paige’s shoulder, her breathing uneven.

“What’s wrong?”

Azzi swallowed hard, shaking her head. She wasn’t sure she could put it into words how needy she was.

Paige hummed, dragging her hands up Azzi’s sides. “Tell me.”

Azzi clenched her jaw, tilting her head back slightly. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Paige corrected. “You just don’t want to.”

Azzi’s hands twitched as she sped up her movements, her breathing uneven as she let out a frustrated sigh. “Paige,” she whispered, almost pleading now.

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing just below Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “Keep going, baby. You’re doing so well for me.”

Azzi shuddered, her resolve slipping further. She adjusted her movements again, obeying, but this time there was no mistaking the slight tremor in her breathing, the way her body was betraying her patience.

Paige couldn’t get enough of this—the way Azzi’s eyes were hooded, the way her lips parted as soft sighs escaped her. And the best part? Paige hadn’t done anything yet. It reminded her of all those late-night phone calls, of the times she had Azzi like this just from her words alone.

A smirk tugged at Paige’s lips as the memory surfaced. “Remember when I used to talk you through it over the phone pretty?”

Azzi barely managed a nod, her breath catching slightly as she worked her fingers in and out of herself.

Paige hummed, dragging her fingers lazily up Azzi’s sides. “I used to tell you exactly what to do… tell you how pretty you sounded.”

A quiet whine left Azzi’s lips.

Paige smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing. “I remember the first time I heard you.” Her voice dropped even lower, a soft rasp threading through her words. “Swear I thought I was in heaven. Had never heard anything so pretty in my life.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Paige tilted her head, lips ghosting over Azzi’s jaw as she added, “You told me I talked too much.”

Azzi exhaled a breathy, “You do.”

Paige chuckled, pressing a wet kiss to Azzi’s neck. “You like it.”

Azzi nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “I do, baby.”

Paige smirked. “I know you do.”

Azzi exhaled, her body melting further into Paige’s touch.

“Bet you used to put me on speaker… lay back, close your eyes, just listening to me while you touched yourself.”

Azzi’s breath hitched slightly, her lashes fluttering. “Maybe.”

Paige chuckled, pressing another kiss just beneath Azzi’s ear. “Maybe?” she echoed, feigning surprise. “Baby, I know you did.”

Azzi let out a quiet whimper at that, and Paige could feel the way her hand flexed slightly against her shoulders, gripping onto her.

“You always got so quiet toward the end,” Paige mused. “Like you were trying to be good for me, but I could still hear it—the way your breathing would change… the little noises you couldn’t hold back while you fucked yourself to my voice.”

Azzi’s fingers dug into Paige’s shoulders just slightly. “Paige…”

Paige smirked. “What, baby?”

Azzi shook her head, her voice coming out breathier now. “You talk too much.”

Paige chuckled, her grip tightening slightly around Azzi’s waist. “Mmm, and, you hang onto every word.”

“Shut up,” Azzi mumbled.

Paige grinned, her fingers grazing the nape of Azzi’s neck. “Make me.”

Azzi pulled Paige into a kiss, pressing down on her, trying to feel anything—anything more than this dull ache of needing Paige. Her own fingers weren't enough. Not anymore. She was too used to feeling Paige, the way she knew exactly how to unravel her. Anything else felt empty, unsatisfying.

Azzi pulled back, her breath coming in short, uneven pants as she met Paige’s eyes. “It’s not gonna work, baby. I need you.”

Paige’s expression didn’t change. She just blinked at her, head tilting slightly. “Hm?”

Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was the fact that they’d been at this for nearly an hour with no release—whatever it was, Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. She gripped the back of Paige’s neck, making sure she was listening. “It’s not enough. I need you to do it.”

Paige let the words linger between them, dragging her eyes over Azzi’s face, over the way her lips were parted, the way her pupils were blown wide. Slowly, Paige’s lips curled into a smirk.

“You need me to do what, baby?”

Azzi let out a small whimper, her fingers tightening against Paige’s skin. “Paige—”

Paige hummed in amusement, completely composed, completely in control. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

Azzi swallowed hard, pressing closer, her body begging Paige for mercy. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finally gave in. “I need you to fuck me please baby.”

Paige’s hands, which had been resting innocently on Azzi’s waist, finally moved, dragging down just enough to make Azzi shudder. “That’s my girl,” Paige whispered. “All you had to do was ask.”

As soon as Paige replaces Azzi’s fingers with two of her own Azzi feels her stomach tighten as she throws her head back letting out a moan.

Azzi begins pushing herself against Paige’s hand grinding down against her jeans in a desperate attempt to feel more before she unravels. Paige notices and helps Azzi guide herself along her thigh as she pushes deeper into her.

The added pressure has Azzi whimpering near Paige’s ear as she holds her shoulders for leverage. She lets out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of Paige’s hoodie as she pressed their foreheads together. “Your jeans…” she whispered, her voice uneven. “Don’t wanna mess them up.”

Paige let out a chuckle. “Fuck my jeans.”

Azzi exhaled sharply at that, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hoodie as she felt warmth pooling in her stomach. Paige just smiled, brushing her lips against Azzi’s jaw, her voice softer now. “Stop worrying about my clothes and make a mess on my lap like I know you want to pretty girl.”

At these words Azzi nods rapidly, her body letting go of the last bit of restraint as her legs start to shake against Paige. She lets out a series of moans as she releases against Paige’s hand riding out the feeling for as long as she can.

For a second Azzi kept her forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder, her breathing still uneven as she slowly came down. Paige pressed a lingering kiss to Azzi’s cheek before murmuring, “Lemme get up, baby.”

Azzi tightened her arms around Paige’s waist, shaking her head slightly. “We’re not done.”

Paige huffed out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers along Azzi’s back. “I know,” she assured. “Lemme go get it.”

Azzi hesitated for only a second before finally nodding, letting her arms fall away as she shifted off Paige’s lap.

Azzi stayed close even as she moved, her fingers lingering on Paige’s wrist before finally letting go. She watched as Paige stood up, stretching slightly before running a hand through her hair.

Paige glanced down at Azzi, taking in the way she was still catching her breath, her skin flushed, eyes heavy. She smirked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear. “You good, baby?”

Azzi nodded. “Hurry up.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she turned toward the closet. “So bossy.”

Azzi hummed, shifting on the bed as she leaned back against the pillows. “You like it.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but the smile on her face said everything. As she grabbed what she needed, she looked over her shoulder at Azzi. “I do.”

Paige felt Azzi’s eyes on, watching her every move as she pulled her hoodie over her head, letting it drop to the floor before tugging her shirt off right after. Paige smiled as she heard Azzi exhale, making no attempt to hide how intently she was watching.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “You good?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she dragged her eyes over Paige’s body, making sure Paige saw exactly where she was looking. “Mhm,” Azzi hummed.

Paige laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she finished stripping off her clothes before adjusting the harness to fit perfectly. When she glanced up, Azzi was already leaning back against the pillows, head tilted slightly, one brow raised, excitement dancing in her eyes.

Paige smirked at the look she was getting. “You got something to say?”

Azzi licked her lips, eyes flicking down before meeting Paige’s again. “Yeah,” she said smoothly

Paige raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Wassup?”

Azzi didn’t look away. “I can’t wait to feel you,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile widened as she studied Azzi for a second before getting in the bed. She hovered over Azzi, her eyes warm as she took her in, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She traced her fingers along Azzi’s side before whispering, “I love you, beautiful. Thank you for today.”

Azzi’s expression softened, her thumb gently sweeping across Paige’s cheek. “I love you, P,” she whispered.

Paige leaned down, capturing Azzi’s lips in a slow, full kiss, one that felt more like a promise than anything else. Azzi sighed into it, her arms coming up to wrap around Paige’s head as she melted into her completely.

They stayed like that wrapped up in nothing but each other until Azzi finally pulled back, breathless, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “You can do whatever you want, P,” she whispered, eyes searching Paige’s.

Paige smiled down at her, brushing her nose against Azzi’s before whispering, “This is what I want.

Azzi searched Paige’s eyes, her fingers tracing light patterns along her back. “You sure? It’s your birthday.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly before pressing a kiss to Azzi’s jaw. “I’m positive,” she murmured against her skin.

Without another word, Paige captured Azzi’s lips again, kissing her gently but deeply, pouring all of her affection into the moment. Azzi sighed into the kiss, her grip tightening around Paige.

Paige leaned back slightly to adjust the strap so it was angled correctly before she pressed forward, glancing down, making sure Azzi was okay. Azzi’s eyes were fluttered shut, her breaths tight.

“You okay, mama?” Paige asked softly.

Azzi swallowed, nodding quickly. “Mhm.”

Paige brushed a hand down Azzi’s side. “You need a minute?”

Azzi let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “God, no.” The thought of waiting any longer seemed unbearable, like it might actually ruin her.

Paige chuckled at Azzi’s urgency, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her temple. “Yeah?”

Azzi exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah… been waiting all day.”

Paige smirked against her cheek. “I know, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”

Azzi lets out a quiet moan when she feels Paige press into her full. She tilts her head to look at Paige. “Only for you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige traced gentle patterns along Azzi’s side, her touch soft as she started working in and out of her slowly. “I love when you talk like that.”

Azzi smiled softly, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of Paige’s hair behind her ear. “I mean it,” she said, her voice steady despite the way her body trembled as Paige worked into her. “Nobody else, P. Just you.”

Paige’s chest tightened at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice, at the way her eyes held nothing but truthfulness. She leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips before whispering, “I know, baby.”

The room settled into a comfortable silence, nothing but their slow, steady breaths and Azzi’s soft moans filling the space. Paige pressed soft kisses to Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips tracing light, aimless patterns along her waist as she moved in and out of her slowly. She was in no rush, completely content in the moment in letting Azzi soak up the pleasure for as long as possible.

After a while, Paige broke the silence. “You feel so good, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin.

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping at Paige’s back. “P…” she warned, already struggling.

Paige smirked. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Azzi swallowed hard, her head tilting back slightly when Paige pushed in a little harder than before. “You know what.”

Paige chuckled softly, pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s jaw. “Mmm, I don’t think I do,” she teased. “I was just saying how good you feel.”

Azzi groaned, her fingers flexing against Paige’s back. “You’re trying to make me talk,” she mumbled, her voice already strained.

Paige hummed. “Is it that hard, baby?” she teased, her smirk widening when Azzi only let out a breathy whimper in response. “C’mon, use your words,” Paige encouraged, dragging her lips down Azzi’s throat. “Tell me how you feel.”

Azzi tried—she really did—but all that came out was a soft, incoherent sound. Paige chuckled against her skin, clearly pleased with herself.

After that Azzi tried to hold back, swallowing the sounds that threatened to escape her lips not wanting to give Paige the satisfaction. But as time went on, it became impossible.

“God, P…” Azzi exhaled, her voice breathy.. “You feel so—” Her words cut off as another sharp gasp left her.

Paige smirked, her grip on Azzi’s hip tightening just slightly as she worked into her. “Yeah?” she murmured. “Tell me, baby.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate this time. “You feel so good,” she admitted, her fingers grasping at Paige’s back, nails digging in just enough to leave faint marks. “So good, P.”

Paige groaned softly at that, her body reacting instinctively as she started to speed up. “Yeah?” she pressed, her own breathing growing heavier. “You like that, mama?”

Azzi nodded rapidly, her head tilting back against the pillow. “I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” she whispered against her mouth. “So much.”

Azzi whimpered into the kiss, her legs instinctively tightening around Paige. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded softly, her hands pulling Paige closer.

Paige chuckled, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s for a brief moment as she reached down to circle Azzi’s bud. At the adding sensation Azzi immediately starts pressing herself further into Paige letting out breathless moans.

Paige’s gaze softened as she looked down at Azzi, her chest tightening with something deeper than desire.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Paige whispered, her voice dripping with adoration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Azzi swallowed a sigh, her lashes fluttering as she looked up at Paige through hooded eyes. She reached up, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair, tugging gently. “Keep going.”

Paige smirked slightly but kept her voice soft, intimate. “You know I’m not gonna stop, baby,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s lips.

Azzi shook her head, her grip tightening. “No—keep talking to me, P… fuck, please keep talking.”

“I love you so much, Azzi,” she whispered, her breath warm against her skin. “I promise Imma spend the rest of my life making you feel this good. However you want, whenever you want. Anything for you, baby.”

Azzi whimpered at that, her body trembling slightly. Paige kissed her temple, then her jaw, then the hollow of her throat. “You want something, all you gotta do is ask,” she continued, making sure Azzi felt every word as she pushed into her every time she whispered. “I’d give you anything, you know that?”

Azzi nodded rapidly, clinging to her. “I know,” she breathed.

Paige was completely lost in Azzi, her lips brushing against heated skin, her words nothing but breathy promises between them. But then—

Maybe: Leah Caldwell.

Siri’s voice cut through the air like an unwelcome intruder. Paige barely registered it, too consumed by Azzi—by the way she felt, the way she responded to every touch, every whisper. But she did notice the way Azzi’s body tensed slightly, the flicker of distraction in her eyes.

Without a second thought, Paige reached over and declined the call, never once breaking rhythm, never pulling away. “Focus on me, baby,” she whispered.

Azzi exhaled sharply, squeezing Paige tighter, but then—

The phone rang again.

Paige felt Azzi’s hesitation this time, saw the unspoken questions flicker in her eyes. But before Azzi could say anything, Paige shook her head no. Silently answering any questions Azzi had.

She kissed Azzi’s cheek, then her lips, whispering, “Just me and you, baby. No one else I promise.”

Azzi searched her face for a moment before nodding, fingers digging into Paige’s back as she clung to her. Paige kissed her again, pouring everything into it, silently telling Azzi that nothing—no one—could pull her away from this. From them.

Paige felt Azzi shift beneath her, reaching over to the nightstand. She didn’t stop kissing her neck, just smirked as she asked, “What you doing, mama?”

“Answering the phone.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she pressed another kiss to Azzi’s neck. “That right?” she murmured.

Azzi swallowed, steadying herself before bringing the phone to her ear. But before she spoke, she turned her head slightly, whispering, “Don’t stop.”

Paige’s lips curled against her skin. She nodded once. “I won’t.”

And then, with her body still wrapped around Paige’s, Azzi swiped to answer.

The line clicked open, but Azzi didn’t say a word. She let Leah speak first.

“Happy birthday,” Leah’s voice rang through the speaker, like she still had a place here. She must’ve assumed Paige had answered.

Azzi exhaled slowly before responding, her voice coming out breathy, barely above a whisper. “She’s busy.”

There was a pause on the other end, like Leah wasn’t buying it. “Very funny Paige” she said, a hint of skepticism in her tone.

Azzi parted her lips to respond, but before she could get the words out, Paige’s palm pressed down against her stomach as she worked into her faster, making her body arch slightly in reaction. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as a quiet, “Oh my god fuck” slipped past her lips.

Azzi’s grip on the phone tightened as Leah’s voice came through again, but this time the tone was different.

“…Paige?” Leah asked, her voice sounding a little confused, like she was finally starting to pick up on the fact that maybe this wasn’t a joke.

Azzi swallowed, trying to keep her composure, but her breath was still shallow. “I told you…she’s busy,” she said, voice shaking slightly.

Then, through the line, Leah could hear Paige’s voice in the background. “Hang up that shit so I can make you finish for me, pretty girl.”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered at the sound of Paige’s words, and her breath hitched.

Leah’s voice came through, more forceful now. But Azzi struggled to focus, the tension building in her chest. Paige wasn’t letting up, increasing her pace, and Azzi felt herself slipping further. The world was spinning. It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think.

Azzi could barely form the words, her voice strained, but she forced herself to speak. “Don’t… call again,” she managed, her chest tightening with every word.

Before Leah could respond, Azzi pressed the red button and tossed the phone aside, her hands trembling. The moment she let go of the phone the words started tumbling out of her.

"Baby, fuck, please," Azzi whimpers, crying out fully at Paige's thrusts, "right there—yes baby keep doing that, fuck."

Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up watching as Azzi’s face contorted in pleasure underneath her.

A few seconds later Azzi is letting out a high pitched moan, squeezing her eyes shut and dragging her nails down Paige’s back as she comes undone under her.

Despite this Paige keeps moving her hips into Azzi as she moves her hand back down to circle Azzi’s clit with two fingers and not a few seconds later Azzi is screaming out again, seeing white as she soaks Paige’s stomach and the sheets below them as she scrambles to push Paige out of her.

Paige’s jaw drops as she looks down, the mess between them slowly sinking in. Then a huge grin spreads across her face.

Azzi, barely feeling like she’s in her body, lets out a quiet, “Don’t…”

Paige, knowing Azzi’s warning, just chuckles lightly, her eyes still fixated on the puddle on the bed. “Okay…” she hums, but her gaze doesn’t leave the mess.

Azzi, trying to gather herself, pushes herself up slightly, her voice still shaky. “We’re getting in the shower.”

Paige, gives her a grin and a shrug. “Yup.”

“And you’re changing the sheets.”

Paige’s smile widens, her voice dripping with affection. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi, still breathing a little unevenly, chuckles softly. “Good,” she murmurs, resting her head back on the pillow.

“Let’s get cleaned up, beautiful,” Paige says, helping Azzi sit up before throwing her on her back as they make their way to the shower.

[sscarletvenus]

yes suguru's plans to exterminate a vast majority of humanity is undeniably evil, but to say that he is murderous from the very start, cruel for the sake of being so, or lacks compassion or any emotional nuance is a gross disservice to his character's writing.

suguru is a case study of a romantic idealist and self-sacrificial saviour whose absurdly rigid, quixotic ideals are shattered brutally by reality intervening. the intense hatred he has for humanity is born out of, is an inverse of, the intense love he once possessesed for it. this is also why even though satoru is portrayed as brash and selfish and arrogant in the hidden inventory arc, it is suguru that turns "villainous."

suguru places his faith in the goodness of humanity, believes the duty of shamans is to protect the weak, their existence solely hinged upon saving the lives of non-sorcerers, and for that he is disappointed so tremendously, betrayed to an extent that makes it impossible for him to recover his ideals and past self.

ultimately there are also more than one reasons why satoru doesn't become "evil" : 1) "protecting humanity" was never his cause to begin with. he hardly cared about preserving human life, as is evident in his intentions to kill the cultists who cheered on riko's death, and 2) he had someone shielding his inner self : suguru. for it is suguru that tells him the duty of shamans is to protect non-shamans and the weak, suguru who asks him to sympathise with riko, suguru who persuades him to not kill meaninglessly.

satoru is indeed attached to riko, as well. he is the one who decides not to hand riko over to tengen if she wishes to return home, and tries to enliven her last days as a lucid person. it would thus not surpass one’s expectations if satoru turned to villainy post riko's demise, since he never even liked non-shamans to begin with. and yet, he doesn't. suguru protects his heart, which is a part of why he is able to steadily process his grief and anguish over riko's death.

suguru doesn't have anyone to do that for him, he is strong in his own right but not the "strongest", nobody notices how deep of an abyss his soul has sunken in, and he succumbs to the lethal loneliness, falters in this marathon of sorcery.

suguru is brimming with love and compassion: it is what drives his heroism in youth and villainy as a cult leader. he is able to protect gojo's heart but not his own. he fluctuates between two polar extremes : utter distaste of humanity Vs. a duty to protect it despite its horrors. three things serve as final nails to the metaphorical coffin : yuki's words, haibara's death, miminana's abuse. he describes imbibing curses for curse manipulation is "like eating a rag used to clean vomit". how macabre, how grotesque, how enlightening - who is he doing all this for? the humans who killed riko? it was these humans haibara died serving, these same humans violently mistreated miminana.

toji and sonoda encapsulate evil very blatantly, and aren't enough to shake suguru's belief in humanity. but the turning point is the non-shaman cultists rejoicing : suguru is thus forced to confront the banality of evil.

and suguru responds by rejecting what he once loved, embraces the darkness plaguing him. believes the only way to eradicate curses is to uproot their source : humanity. humans, for as long as they will live, will give rise to curses born out of their negative emotions. there is no one to tell him any better, or protect his self-identity. he loses himself to his own sense of empathy, his own ideals.

he isn't indifferent at all, cannot pick and choose whom he loves and doesn't. his love and hatred is collective, in both he gives his all. even amidst his hatred, he doesn't lose his love.

who does he choose to target first, once amassing enough money, power, and reputation? sonoda, the man who ordered riko's assassination. someone who lies in wait to enact vengeance does it out of love. if he was nothing more than a corrupt tyrant, he wouldn't remember the circumstances of riko's demise or care enough about them. suguru's rise as a hero and his subsequent fall as a villain has always been about love. and it seems, to me, up until his death, he prioritizes satoru over himself. doesn't see satoru as a weapon at all, or he would have directly asked satoru to join his cause. instead he poses to satoru a question, presents him with a choice - which in turn makes satoru shaken enough to question his identity, his place in the system, becoming a teacher and dedicating his all to a fitting reformist centrism from an isolated and dare i say, individualistic person such as himself, who stands on the pinnacle of power. but he wouldn't have come to such a conclusion without suguru's experiences shaping his worldview (he himself apologizes to riko during his fight with toji because rather than feeling depressed over her death, he feels the pure pleasure of the world in that moment. killing toji endows him with a sense of duty towards megumi, and riko's death but obviously impacts him, but the change from full apathy, to neutral indifference except in the case of his students, was losing suguru.)

as evil as suguru becomes, he is not a hypocrite. that he kills his own parents is to show the seriousness and conviction he has in his ideals. his code of operation is consistent, even when it turns from pro-human to pro-shaman.

reminds you of what mahito tells yuuji: does yuuji ever consider how many curses he kills? so why should mahito account for how many humans he kills? suguru geto presents us with a possible answer : someone has to care about how many shamans are killed.

you can condemn him for his use of collective punishment, but suguru is a villain!

you can criticize his killing of innocents, but jjk conveys the carefully crafted narrative of a villain who once held staunch traditional and moral ideals.

suguru is evil for proposing collective punishment, but it is incredibly consistent with how emotional he is. he is empathetic because he cares about a girl like riko, doomed by the actions of the rest of the world, forgotten in her misery. he cares and it drives him to the deepest pits of despair, where life loses all color and meaning, despite only knowing her for so long and haibara as well, he enshrines haibara in his memory, when no one other than nanami does. hardly anyone remembers riko's existence, haibara's laughing face, but he does! and for that he spends each moment sinking in the quagmire of his grief and torment. his empathy is a sword of damocles hanging over his neck! to say that he is cruel and unfeeling is to contradict the very agony that drives his (wrongful?) actions. and he is indeed wrong for externalizing this indelible pain, wanting to inflict it upon innocents. but suguru is a villain! has been set up as such!

mahito raises this question to junpei,"is the opposite of love really indifference?" to satoru, it is. but to suguru, it is hatred which is the opposite of love.

[kannouo]

Gentle "Parent"ing

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader warnings: none summary: how the brothers react to an mc who coddles their younger siblings. prompt by @satansbiggestkinnie: I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM I'M YOUR NO1 FAN >:3 SO UHH HEAR ME OUT: A MC who's just the opposite of Lucifer when it comes to being an older sibling!! They looooove their little siblings and they show it!! A little too much since they're "famous" for being a total coddler and giving their lil siblings a buuunch of affection!! (Me-coded fr) (Also what if they're little siblings are annoyed at that and the little brothers in OM especially Satan is just.. FLABBERGASTED.) A/N: tysm for the kind words, this was really sweet to read in my inbox ;-; you didn't specify if you wanted all the characters or just the brothers, but i ended up only writing for the brothers as you mentioned both lucifer and the younger brothers. sorry if i got this wrong. also,,, this kind of turned into "how the brothers would treat your younger siblings" at some point lol.

LUCIFER

• As a man who is big on family, he was definitely happy to meet yours. Perhaps even eager, but he'd never admit that.

• He usually wouldn't be the type to stress all that much over meeting the family — he's confident enough in his ability to be cordial and agreeable for just one evening — but the added presence of his brothers changes his entire attitude. He does everything short of giving them an actual script to rehearse just to make sure they don't screw something up. He cares immensely about first impressions.

• Is somewhat relieved when your younger siblings turn out to be a laid-back bunch.

• Maybe a little too laid-back for his liking.

• Now, Lucifer loves his brothers. Absolutely he does. And he's known for going along with their antics from time to time for the purpose of bonding. But his style of discipline can hardly be described as gentle or understanding, and he sort of experiences whiplash when he sees you fussing over your siblings like toddlers.

• You're doing... everything for them. Some seem happy to let you take the wheel, but others (specifically the older kids, some in their teenage years) seem annoyed at your insistence on cleaning up after them.

• If you have any siblings that are still children, he notices how they seem to just hang off of you. They want attention and playtime from you 24/7 and it honestly gets on his nerves, but don't worry, he won't do anything. He knows they're just kids.

• Still, I can imagine him being their first experience with proper discipline outside of your parents. He once put one of your youngest siblings in time-out for wasting their food by spilling it onto the table or throwing it, and after you found out you glared at him, picked up the child responsible and started going on about how "Lucifer is just grumpy and mean" and they "don't have to listen to him".

• "MC, they need to learn not to play with their food somehow—"

• "Look at their little faces! Just leave them be."

• Warns you repeatedly about how they're going to grow up to be spoiled brats if you keep coddling them like this, but it's up to you if you listen to him or not.

• Also, don't let him fool you. He may not be particularly fond of or good with children, but he's just as weak to their pouting.

"Why are your eyes red?" Lucifer turns his head to look down at the small child before him, who stared right back. "It's weird." Children were always strange to him. His presence struck fear into the hearts of most, but children seemingly lack that sense of self-preservation that adults have, making them a mix of brave and... well, dumb. "I was born that way," he replies simply, and the child nods in understanding. "And you shouldn't call people 'weird'. Would you like it if someone said that about your eyes?" "No." The child shook its head and Lucifer nodded and reached down to pat the kid's hair. "Exactly."

MAMMON

• The week leading up to meeting your family were the most stressful days of his life. Not only were his own nerves acting up, but Lucifer's constant lectures on how to act weren't helping.

• What if MC's family hates him? What if that's a dealbreaker and they can't be together anymore? Will he spend the rest of his life chasing this feeling just to find that there's no-one who will love him like that again as he whittles away his time thinking about how he let the love of his life get away and—

• He overthought it. The kids love him.

• Mammon is actually really good with kids, if not kind of a pushover. Teenagers also tend to like him for the "rebellious vibe" he's got going on, and the fact he's easy to talk to (and make fun of). The only problem is he gives in to anything they want way too easily, and for that reason you two can't be left alone to babysit. Everyone else will come back to find out you bought an entire bouncy house.

• He, unlike Lucifer, totally gets why you coddle your siblings so much. He's prone to doing so himself, mainly with Belphie, and also has literally no perception of how humans age or what level of basic ability they're at. He treats your teenage siblings like toddlers.

• "Shouldn't we cut up her food so she don't choke?"

• "She's 16, Mammon, she can chew."

• Mammon also seems like the type to get straight-up bullied by children. You have absolutely walked in on him having been forced into a "princess tea party" with a fake tiara on and messily-done makeup on his face from your sibling's attempt to doll him up.

• Is the victim of every toddler's rough-housing phase (if you know you know). They literally jump on him and start wailing on him with their tiny baby fists. It's not like he can fight back, they're kids, so he just lays there and screams for help.

• Will later come crying to you about how he got fucking mugged and beaten by a 3 year-old. Is absolutely appalled when you take the kid's side.

• "That little shit took my money!"

• "He's just a baby! He doesn't know what he's doing! And don't swear!"

• Catch him and your sibling glaring at each other whenever they think you're not looking, because the child absolutely acts like an innocent angel whenever you're around, and you buy into it completely. Even if you didn't, you don't have it in you to punish him.

"What ya doin'?" Mammon approaches the kid laying on the floor with their schoolwork scattered on the ground in front of them. They lean to the side so Mammon can take a look at what they're writing. "Huh. Ya can spell yer name already? Nice." They give him a strange look. "...I'm 10." "...Oh." ...MC's boyfriend is weird.

LEVIATHAN

• Levi... uh... doesn't want to be here.

• It's not that he doesn't want to meet your family... well, yeah, that's exactly what it is. He's absolutely convinced they're going to hate him. Why would he leave the safe abode of his room just to go mingle with some normie kids?

• I can't imagine he's very good with children, and teenagers scare him. So, catch him hiding in a dark corner.

• He does like simply watching you go about your day with your family, though. It's an insight into your daily domestic life he never thought he'd get, and it's just really nice to him. He'd never admit he was watching if you confront him about it though.

• But... your tendency to coddle your siblings makes him jealous. Obviously.

• I mean, it's not like he wants to be treated like a child. But they get away with everything. How come his older brothers don't treat him in that overly-affectionate, loving way? Thinking about it, he'd probably hate if they did... But still!

• These stupid kids are taking away your attention, and the way you talk about them like they can do no wrong and remind them how much you love them at every opportunity is making his chest burn with envy. The only reason he isn't summoning Lotan is because it's your house and that would be rude.

• Reassure him that just because you love your siblings doesn't mean you love him any less.

• Also, if any of your siblings are into anime or at least interested in it, he's more likely to come out of his shell a little. He'll discuss any shows they've watched with them (because he's watched literally everything) and give them recommendations. Child-friendly of course.

• Keep him away from any siblings going through a "mean teen" phase. They will make him cry and you will have to talk him down so he doesn't go all demon form crazy on an actual child.

One of the kids in the house makes their way up to Levi, who is slumped back on the couch with his knees up. Levi looks up at the kid, then at his phone, then at the kid and at his phone again. He feels a bead of sweat form. Is this child judging him? "Do you have games on your phone?" They suddenly ask and Levi blinks. Damn, the meme is real. "Uh..." He clears his throat. If he doesn't let the kid play, then they'll hate him. And if the kid hates him... MC will hate him too! "...Y—yeah. You wanna play...?"

SATAN

• So, although I think seeing you treat your siblings with such overbearing affection and love comes as a bit of a culture shock to him, I don't believe he'd be super surprised that some of them have a negative reaction to it.

• He hates baby-talk or being treated like a child to any degree. He'd probably lose it if one of his brothers did something like offering to complete any kind of work for him, because it implies he isn't capable of doing it on his own. There's that scene of him in Nightbringer threatening Lucifer for force-feeding him breakfast when he wouldn't eat, and the text conversation where he tells you he wants to kill Asmo because he's been baby-talking him all day.

• He completely understands your urge to coddle your siblings, but he also understands their frustration in response to it. Will probably try to explain why you should ease up on it a little, but recognises it isn't really his place to decide.

• Kids and teenagers actually probably like him well enough. He has a short temper and isn't the best person to deal with kids when they make a mistake, especially when it's with something he considers second nature by now, but he's the type to talk to kids like they're adults and take the things they say completely seriously.

• Also encourages rebellion in the older kids because he thinks it's funny and relates hard. Probably joins in, actually.

• That being said, they aren't exempt from discipline by him, and he'll absolutely argue against you letting them off so light.

• "They need a time-out, MC."

• "They're just playing! Aren't you?" They both nod and Satan glares down at the little liars.

• "They were hitting each other and nearly broke the TV."

• Little added headcanon: Satan does not need to be forced to partake in kids' tea parties or games. He will do it willingly, but will deny it to the grave if he's walked in on. He gives me girl dad vibes.

The youngest toddler in the house waddles up to Satan with a toy phone in hand, holding it up to her ear to mimic what she's seen the adults around her do. The child then holds the phone out for Satan to take. "Bababa." Satan responds with a nod as if he understood the gibberish perfectly and takes the toy phone from her little hands, holding it up to his ear to take a pretend phone call. "Yes? Yes... mhm, mhm..." He murmurs, then looks down at the little girl before him. "Mm, she says she will not be attending unless there is baby food at this function. No? Okay." With that, he takes the toy away from his ear and holds it back out for the child to take, which she does, followed by another sentence in gibberish. "Banguguu..." "Yes, I handled it."

ASMODEUS

• Lmao he's even worse.

• Asmo is great with kids, but doesn't particularly... like them. I mean, he thinks they're cute and absolutely hosts mini fashion shows with your younger siblings. But he could never take care of one full-time because while they can be adorable, they can also be gross.

• That being said, he too is the overbearing coddler type. Not just with your siblings, but with his own too, even his older brothers. All it takes is them acting a little more affectionate with him than usual for him to fold and give them anything they want. Your own family is no different.

• He had no concerns before meeting your siblings. After all, he's just naturally so loveable — why would he need to be worried? In his mind, your siblings not liking him didn't even register as an option.

• He really didn't need to worry though, because he was right, teens and kids alike do love him. He's the perfect person to share and talk about drama with, as well as doing their makeup and recommending products. And princess tea parties? Playing with dolls? Of course he'll join you, dear!

• I wasn't joking about the mini fashion shows. He goes out, buys a bunch of clothes in your siblings' sizes and has them come with him so they can try all of them on. He takes so many pictures (he's always in the frame though).

• Joins you in being completely unable to discipline your siblings even if they clearly need it. If your younger siblings find your behaviour annoying or frustrating, then Asmo is absolutely intolerable.

• ...Kind of wishes you would coddle him like you do your siblings. I mean, he's clearly cute enough to deserve it!

"And then— get this," Asmo nods at the teen's words and leans forward a little to show his interest. "We found out, nobody could find her because she was sleeping with Jackson's brother." Asmo lets out a dramatic gasp, pausing the nail painting for a moment. "Really? As revenge?" "Yeah, 'cause he cheated first. Apparently she was going to just leave him, but wanted to make it hurt." "Serves him right."

BEELZEBUB

• Another guy who is big on family, and really wanted to make a good impression on your siblings because of it. He worried a little too much over it though, because well... he's Beel. The biggest thing you actually have concerns about is whether he'll raid your entire fridge. You know for a fact your siblings are going to love him.

• Beel is very blunt and straightforward, and so are kids. This works out for him because it results in most kids immediately being fond of him.

• Lets any younger kids hold on to his arms and dangle off of him because he's so tall. Will even give them a piggyback ride just so they can experience what it's like to be over 7 feet tall.

• He also doesn't really react much to how you coddle and fuss over your siblings. He's used to acting a similar way with Belphie, so it's hard to say he notices anything different about the way you treat them. Similar to Mammon, I feel like he also has difficulty keeping track of what humans at different ages are and are not capable of doing.

• Covers the ears of a whole ass 17 year old when he hears any swearing.

• Beel will absolutely ask you for stories about your siblings just so he can hear the way you talk about them. He knows they're probably not innocent little angels like you make them out to be, but there's just so much love in the way you tell stories of when they were younger that he can't help but listen and nod along.

• "There's the handsomest boy in the world!" You coo as you play peekaboo with your baby brother. There's silence from beside you for a moment as the child laughs in delight. You look over and Beel is just... staring at you.

• "...You too, Beel."

• ":)"

"Um, I don't think I can finish this..." He looks up at the child next to him, seeing how they poke at their food. Although the idea of being a picky eater is somewhat foreign to him, he doesn't want to force them to eat something they don't like. "It's fine," he says before covering his mouth when he realised he was talking with his mouth full. "You can give it to me." "Really?" The kid looks up at him and then slides their plate over to him. "Thank you!" Honestly, they're the one doing him a favour...

BELPHEGOR

• ...Does he have to?

• He loves you, he really does. But meeting the family means he'll have to work to keep his attitude, body language and exhaustion in check and it just seems like... a lot of work. Especially if you have a lot of siblings. So much talking.

• Belphie doesn't really like kids, but you know how when you're very young, you tend to gravitate towards the cool, quiet and closed-off relative more? That's essentially what happens here. Your younger siblings adore Belphie for some reason even though it's very clearly not reciprocated.

• As for the coddling aspect... yeah, he's used to it.

• He receives that kind of treatment from most of his brothers and doesn't particularly enjoy it per-se, but as the baby of the family, knows how to use it to his advantage to get extra privileges. When he finds out from watching you and your siblings that "acting cute" works on you as well, expect him to start doing it to get you to clean his room for him.

• On that note, he does also understand the annoyance with it. He also hates things like babytalk or being coddled constantly, he finds it tiring. He probably won't bring it up like Satan would, though. He doesn't care.

• Insists he doesn't like any of your youngest siblings but you will find him asleep with them curled up on his chest a couple times at least.

• Also a victim of toddler rough-housing because he's always laying down, so he's an easy target.

"What?" Belphie groans as a pair of tiny toddler hands repeatedly pat his face to get his attention. Finally opening his eyes, he's met with the evillest grin he's ever seen on a kid this young, followed by the little shit grabbing a chunk of his hair and yanking it. "Ow..." Belphie huffs and tilts his head away, holding the toddler back with one hand. "...You're lucky MC loves you," he mutters, then glares at the child when they immediately follow up with a slap to his arm, as if they heard him. "Stop it." The kid then manages to shuffle onto the couch, now trying to climb on top of Belphie to continue beating him. It doesn't hurt, but it's a hassle. "MC..." He calls, too tired to deal with this. "Come get your baby. I'm trying to sleep..." "They're not my babies, Belphie..."

[hurtspideyparker]

Hi, sorry but could you recommend any of your favourite Peter Parker fics please?

For sure !!! *cracks open ao3 bookmarks*

Thirty Hours by polaroid15 - Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Hurt Peter Parker, my favourite tag <3 I love when Spider-Man is a badass and also lacks self-preservation. He's so cool fighting alongside the Avengers and we get some sweet hurt/comfort irondad!

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain - Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

This fic is an icon in the fandom and for GOOD REASON. I just can not get enough of Peter Parker hiding his injuries. More heavy whump and angst!

All good things come in threes by Bergen - Peter has three secret identities: Spider-Man, the superhero who swings around the city to save people. Parker Benjamin, who gives Tony Stark unsolicited advice on his research. And NightMonkey, the Instagrammer who keeps uploading increasingly popular but embarrassing drawings of Iron Man.

And he can juggle them all just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Okay here is the fluff!!! Peter is a genius, a menace, and a sweetheart. Tony Stark runs into him (again and again) and can't help but have a soft spot for him every time. Funny and cute and an all 'round good time!

Held Together by Spiderwebs by TunaFishChris - Steve is not coping well in the twenty-first century. At all. Three months after the Chitauri invasion, he decides he's had enough.

But just as he's about to end it all, he runs into the new hero in town.

This one focuses a lot on Steve but I really like him and Peter's relationship in it, and I think this is great Peter Parker characterization. TW for discussions of depression and suicide, it gets a bit dark!

5 Times Spider-Man Saved an Avenger's Ass (and 1 Time They Saved Him) by TunaFishChris - this fic showcases how strong and capable Peter is, he's definitely a BAMF. I really like this genre where the Avengers know Spider-Man but not Peter Parker, makes Peter feel more independent and mature like in the comics.

Five Time Faculty Members Had to Call Peter's Emergency Contact + One Time He Shows Up Anyway, Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited, and Five Times Strangers Talked About Peter and Tony + One time Someone They Know Did by kingdomfaraway - I am just gonna recommend this entire series. Super fluffy, extreme irondad and spiderson. They're just adorable from an outside perspective and I love when Peter gets to just be Tony's intern and a teenager for a while :)

research and disaster by blueh - “So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of the pair.

“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’s Mr. Stark’s kid.”

or: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

I just love intern Peter mk? Let him be a kid genius and have fun!!! Fluffy and humorous, again with the irondad.

Captain, Oh My- Not My Captain! by uncouth_peasant - Peter swallowed hard before firing a web to swing into the fray. “Cap’s going after civilians. I’m out of time.”

Bruised and bloody men <3. Just Peter being a badass and getting beat to a pulp. Cool fighting, lots of Peter whump, and of course the Avengers being protective.

Good publicity by Bergen - Between Peter Parker barely speaking, and Spider-Man being the ultimate chatterbox, how was Tony ever supposed to figure out that they were one and the same person?

Tony Stark is secretly a softie for cute kids, especially when they're a genius and have a sense of humour to rival his own. Peter is a foster kid who ends up finding a home with Pepper and Tony, very sweet.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - When Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves, simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help.

Heavy TW for this one, mind the tags. This is a popular fic and for good reason. A very mature and realistic portrayal of the foster care system and homelessness. The Peter angst is really great and I could barely put it down, that boy needs a hug so bad.

Now here's some hydra!Peter fics cuz they're my jam:

Peter is a precious chickpea by Bergen - They attack the HYDRA safe house shortly before sunrise.

The only people defending said safe house are Peter and Leo, and Leo slams his cell door open and starts spitting out orders, but then promptly gets clobbered over the head and keels sideways.

So that just leaves Peter. And he’s not even going to try to fight a whole team of Avengers. He looks up at Iron Man filling the doorway. “I surrender.”

He’s never been captured before and he’s not sure what to do. Escape, probably.

This entire series is PERFECT. I just love how adorable Peter is, and all the relationships Peter forms with the Avengers absolutely melt my heart. Peter's characterization in this is really unique and I wish there was more. The Bucky and Peter friendship is everythingggg. I love hydra!peter and bucky fics.

Indoctrination by phoenixon - The Avengers thought they were on a typical assignment: Infiltrate the Hydra base and find the weapon. What they didn't expect was the small boy raised by Hydra that they found instead. And they definitely didn't expect him to stay at Avengers Tower or how he somehow wormed his way into their lives. As for Peter, he just wants to be good and obey what the Hydra men told him so he doesn't get in trouble.

I just really love hydra Peter changing into a sweet and intelligent boy once he's rescued and safe, and how all the Avengers take up such heart-warming parental roles around him.

out there, living in the sun by Hailfire_73 - The Avengers rescue Peter from a Hydra base ran by his father, Richard Parker, except Peter doesn't really see it as a rescue, and has trouble settling into a new life away from Hydra and his father at the Avengers compound. OR - Peter learns how to be an actual teenager, live life, and put his abusive past behind him, and Tony learns how to be a father.

Hydra Peter but he's most definitely a traumatized and moody teenager. I really enjoyed Peter's character arc and the exploration of his trauma. It felt more realistic the way his journey isn't just a straight or clear path. He's more mature in this one and it was a really compelling read, balancing the angst with some humour and fluff. Loved the ending.

Tinker, Tailor, Spider by Bergen - Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

I really enjoy that the author doesn't water Peter being hydra down. Yes he is a highly skilled assassin and a badass who's trauma pervades his every thought and decision. Made me fall in love with the Tony, Pepper, Morgan and Peter as a family dynamic. Super domestic while still highlighting Peter's troubled past.

[usaguisenpaisblog]

Being Daniel Molloy's assistant

° Genre: headcanon

° Other tags: gn!reader, spoilers from the season 2

|| Sorry if something is wrong, english is not my first language||

° Daniel Molloy was a complicated person - a fact that he himself recognizes and admits out loud. "Probably because of the age", he would justify, but his sarcastic spirit, his sharp tongue and mind, the lack of any sense of self-preservation along with the fact that he was surly and more tired than when he was younger, made him a difficult person to work.

° The young writers, reporters or journalists who came to him were, for the most part, fans of his work. Boys and girls with a romantic view of their chosen profession, hungry for advice from a veteran in the field, but all they would receive from Daniel Molloy would be a sarcastic comment loaded with a certain truth that would make them offended enough to leave. him in peace and maybe give up on that hole they were digging themselves into.

° And then you came along: a college student in your final years of journalism school who had the audacity to approach him on a random Tuesday at his favorite café. He laughed at you, of course. He found it funny how well-dressed you were with a resume in hands, looking ready to run or fight if necessary. Without a filter or without showing any weakness in the face of Molloy's comments, the eldest had great interest in the youngest's obstinate stance. Reading one of your published articles, Daniel gave in and recognized your talent in writing, deciding to hire you as his assistant.

° The job itself was relatively simple and paid a fair amount, consisting of the task of reviewing some things Daniel hoped to publish, transcribing some interviews, and making sure grandpa took his medicine.

"Mr. Molloy, have you taken your medicine? It's already 3 o'clock"

"Blow me"

"Mr Molloy..."

"Eat my ass"

"Daniel."

(He took the medicine after receiving a serious look from you, along with a low curse).

° When the invitation for the trip to Dubai arrived, Daniel didn't want you with him for fear of what the consequences of a single wrong question asked - flashback to the 70s - could be and how it could affect you, but, once again, you surprised him, showing up on boarding day with a suitcase, a handbag and a laptop in hand, waiting for Molloy to board.

° Louis was waiting for you two, unsurprisingly, a serene smile welcoming you both to his ridiculously expensive residence in Dubai. "Welcome to my home, dear [L/N] and Daniel."

° Truth be told, all the vampire talk didn't go down in the first instance. A part of you thought that perhaps Daniel had finally lost his lucidity and was giving a crazy man an opportunity to tell his delusions, but as you watched Louis de Ponte Du Lac drain a live fox during dinner, you began to wonder what type of situation was you being involved.

° During your stay there (during the events of Season 1), your job was largely the same. When Molloy finally rested, you reviewed your own notes, did some research for Daniel, and transcribed Louis' reports.

° The fake Rashid was always around, occasionally bringing you coffee - and watching over your shoulder the article you were writing. "Can I get you something more?" He asked with those dark deer eyes. "No, thank you, darling" You would respond with a soft smile before going back to what you were doing. There was something suspicious about him, your instincts would tell you. The doe eyes were soft and almost innocent, but there was something wrong there, you just couldn't tell.

° The (sexual) tension was high whenever Louis decided to feed on Rashid during dinner. You and Daniel looked at the scene with a certain curiosity, even though you admired something that you couldn't say yourself. Something inherent in human beings watching something violent so closely. The deer surrendering to the lion with such submission that it enchanted the surrounding animals.

° "What are your thoughts about them?" Mr. Molloy would ask after another end of the interview session, both of you sitting in the room while organizing some documents.

"The twink and Louis?"

"Whatever you want to call"

"Something is definitely wrong. He's hiding something. The way he seems so devoted to Louis, yet prays for another God...that's odd, do you know? I have a feeling that Louis knows about this, but is playing too."

"Do you have a feeling?" Daniel laughed

"The same feeling that I have that you think that's odd too"

Bingo, the old man thought the same.

"Do you think they fuck?" The oldest would ask, sipping his martine.

"You should ask him that. 'Hey, mr. Du Lac, I know you're almost crying because of the memories of you old abusive lover, but the readers would love to know: do you and Rashid had or have sex?' Bet he would love to hear you asking that."

° Reading Claudia's diaries in the silence of the morning while Mr Molloy rested was something almost sacred while silence reigned in that expensive apartment. The passing of the weathered pages was a low sound, taking care not to tear or damage the vampire girl's memories. While the birds sang outside and his pen scribbled notes in his own notebook, Louis would occasionally talk privately with you, curious to know more about Daniel Molloy's sharp-tongued assistant.

° "Tell me, [Name], did Daniel tell you about what happened in the 70s?" He would ask, crossing his legs in a ridiculously elegant way.

"He usually doesn't tell me about his gay nights in the 70's, it's on our contract, you know?" You said without looking at him, too focused on the research you were doing.

° Lestat de Lioncourt was a figure apart from the narrative. Always very charming, talented and dramatic, the French vampire was like a ghost of his own stereotype, sometimes meeting expectations, sometimes making strange decisions that didn't even seem like him. Something is strange, your mind would say.

° Suddenly, Rashid became the vampire Armand, a little bitch with an attitude who loved to look at you and Daniel as if he knew something you didn't. He was more charming with those golden eyes, but there was something that screamed red flag when it came to his memories in Paris.

° "You know I can read your thoughts, right?" He approached you one night while you were smoking outside your apartment.

"And?"

"You should be careful with them" Armand slowly approached you in a clear attempt at intimidation "I don't want you giving your simple and shallow opinion about things that you don't understand."

"....I didn't say anything"

"Yet."

Red (yet beautiful) flag.

° Armand and Louis were a show of defense and explanations when they decided (in a theatrical way) to join forces and face Daniel and you. The oldest wanted to laugh most of the time, just like you, but you held back.

° Ah, but then the truth was revealed and the couple, together for 77 years, separated - the final act of the rigorous and dangerous investigation that Daniel carried out during those days there. Armand had a murderous look at humans, but he didn't move a single muscle as he tried - in vain - to calm down or explain himself to Louis.

° He turned them into vampires, of course, more out of revenge than for any plausible reason. The vampire life wasn't a burden - yet - as Daniel Molloy felt more alive than ever as he hunted men and women at night, while you had another pre-assigned mission: finding the vampire Lestat de Lioncourt.

° You just wanted a conversation. An interview.

[siggiedraws]

I'd love to hear more about your view on Sonic too! What do you like (and dislike, if you want) most about him?🍀

There are so many things I love about him it's hard to choose! But a few things do come to mind:

1) Sonic's willingness to help others no matter what, like when Sonic decides to help rescue a girl's village from a dragon in Black Knight despite the fact that this would cause him to run out of time to do Nimue's tasks (luckily, that was actually a test that Sonic passed!) The fact that Sonic just wants to save people who need saving, no matter if that's an inconvenience to him, shows how compassionate and selfless he is. Not to mention his line to Chip where he says "Do I need a reason to want to help out a friend?" makes me emotional every time. He helps people simply because he wants to!

2) Sonic's thrill-seeking nature. He'll do crazy shit just because it's fun and dangerous and you can tell he just lives for it. He sounds so happy and excited whenever it happens that it's really cute. This is very much highlighted in the Storybook games, where Sonic's companion characters often express their chagrin at how reckless Sonic is. This moment in Pirate Storm and this moment in Molten Mine are my favourite examples.

I would say Sonic's thrill-seeking is emboldened by the fact that he faces death head-on and isn't afraid. When he's about to die in Sonic Adventure 2, he keeps his cool and he calmly holds the fake Chaos Emerald, wondering if he can make it through. In Secret Rings, at the realization that the Flame of Judgment's time limit is almost up, he chuckles to himself and apologizes to Shahra for worrying her. This is extremely telling of his selfless character and his lack of self-preservation. Even in death he's not thinking about himself. He's focused on cheering up his friend.

It's something I find very fascinating, for someone who enjoys living so much to lack a fear of death. Though, I would argue that it does bother him on the inside, if even a little bit, going by the lyrics of Unawakening Float: Must I float away? / Will I ever wake?

3) Sonic's love for life and the world around him. Sonic's always fighting to preserve and protect nature from Dr. Eggman's industrialization, and environmental awareness is a prominent theme in the Sonic franchise, so it makes sense that's what Sonic's all about! He remarks in Heroes that he loves Grand Metropolis, for instance, which is a huge eco-friendly city with no pollution. Also, in a 2022 Q&A, Sonic says that restoring all the levels in Generations reminded him of how great the world is, which is genuinely so sweet! 💙

As for Sonic's love for life, the thing with Sonic is that he doesn't have any ultimate goals in life or any dream to achieve. When it comes to living life to the fullest, he exists in the moment and enjoys the present day. He does what makes him happy right here and right now. In other words, he's content without a destination, and he enjoys the never-ending journey. There is a lot I can learn from him!

4) His mystery! What is Christmas Island like? How did he and Eggman first meet? Just who the hell is this guy? No one knows, but Sonic will tell you he's just a normal hedgehog, which may very well be true. There are little hints here and there that point towards the symbolism of his origins, like his folded boots being inspired by Santa Claus, which is why they're red and white with a buckle! I find that such a cool detail. I love the vagueness of his past and I hope it stays that way.

Speaking of Sonic and mystery, did you know that there's a character called Uhu the Wind Genie in Sonic and the Secret Rings, who is known for his speed, and we never see his true form? I wonder who that could be an analogue to...

As for what I dislike about Sonic, that's much harder to answer because I love him so much. Every aspect about him is perfect to me! I suppose if I had to choose one thing… he can just leave without notice for an extended period of time, as seen in the end of Sonic Advance, and that can be very worrying. He's an independent guy and he likes alone time, but I can imagine how his behaviour could frustrate the people around him. Tails flying in the Tornado trying to look for him in the sky breaks my heart.

anyways... I love Sonic so much as you could tell. Thanks so much for your ask! 💙

[thecursedjazz]

Postal 1 dude isn't evil (and is genuinely the most morally grounded and decent person we've actually met in the Postal Universe)

From what we gather he was living a very normal life prior to going crazy, not like the other dudes who go on senseless rampages when tasked with mundane everyday things. As Promo material does state he's a well educated and mannered person so it's only realistic that this man did have a genuine job and was generating a level of income prior to his decline in mental health and moving to Paradise.

And as stated before he is well mannered in the sense of being stated a "quiet nice boy" and "voted the most likely to succeed". From what we gather this guy was the text book example of a model citizen. The only "flaw" is that he kept referring to a girl he only dated once as his girlfriend but even then that could come down his delusions along with his lack of grip on reality causing him to genuinely think she's his girlfriend or  the fact he's canonically quiet (as shown from the Promo material and also the fact that he doesn't actually physically speak AT ALL during the game) and most likely doesn't understand social ques as of it.

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

But the most important thing is that he doesn't even have malicious intentions.

The very first thing he proposes after being "attacked" by "groups of lunatics trying to invade his home" is.....go the sherrif for help. The Dude didn't have any Intention to go on a murder spree, he'd rather of just went to the authorities like any other average Joe. The whole thing really tells us that he's not usually a violent person.

Even rewinding back to level one: the war journals (and Vince) did state that the Dude was entirely convinced that he was being attacked by group of lunatics, one of which even firing rockets at him, goes without saying that self defence is really the only option here.

Course it remains solely as self defence until the Dude reaches the train station, the significance being his war journal where he writes "if I can get out i can warn everybody...YES, I CAN WARN EVERYBODY!". The dudes goal has shifted into saving the country as a whole rather than himself which ultimately steers him into going to the air force to find out what has happened to cause the supposed hate plague. The dudes actions represent him more as selfless now with him now doing this in the bigger scheme of things rather than his own self preservation. If its not clear already: maniacs wouldn't care about warning/ saving people from a hate plague, Dude 2 most likely wouldn't give a shit and let it spread since he was totally cool with nuking the entirety of paradise and its innocent civilians.

Furthermore he openly states that he doesn't want to kill people. At the trailer park he writes that "There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is". Practically he's saying that he'd much rather run into some normal people instead of having to kill them, it's a stark contrast to the other dudes with the Postal 1 dude appearing as genuinely empathetic whereas the others will literally kill people for something as simple as waiting in line and afterwards not think anything of it.

Also very worth noting that when he enters the ghetto he mentions he's genuinely worried he'll get mugged, we're really getting the picture that he's literally just some normal ass guy with the idea of going to the rough side of town shakes him up.

(Even worth pointing out that only for the ghetto does he go back to calling it a diary like he's momentarily lost his soldier/war mentality at the thought of going into the rough side of town).

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

So simple and short:

Postal 1 dudes literally just some average everyday guy (who's been through some really fucked up shit that's forever gonna remain unexplained beyond the veteran theory) who's trying to do the right thing but he's woefully misguided due to his deteriorating mental state as well as being possessed by an entity beyond his broken minds comprehension.

He's literally the complete opposite to every other postal dude (and if anything he's one of the most morally grounded people in the franchise as crazy as it is)

Oh and if this wasn't enough: rws did say on a twitter post that he's literally Just some average guy who's had some shitty days.

(I wrote this at 4am so soz if it's all over the place)

[imagine-silk]

Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Finding You

Small Creatures, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt Murdock always assumed he’d never meet his soulmate. After all, who would want to end up stuck with a blind vigilante carrying enough baggage for a whole jet? Unfortunately for you both, his cursed love is closer than ever and determined to support him as his paradoxical life falls apart.

warnings:  minor swearing, misunderstandings, awkward meetings

a/n: there isn’t a ton of Matt in this chapter, but there will be MUCH more of him from here on out. We are running straight for the hurt, comfort, angst, and fluff of this story, y’all. As always, please reply and reblog! And a huge shout out to @zomtart for helping me create this AU!

w/c: 4.5k

You couldn’t shake the feeling of him. 

A tight coil of smoke, constantly twisted around your every limb. Your dreams were now hazy with clouds of ash, the bitter taste of charred organic material blanketing your tongue when you woke. 

On the surface, he was dangerous, filled with a rage that burned more intensely than any flame in this realm. You understood that it was meant to scare you, to create distance. But, you were drawn to it like a newly hatched moth–seeking its warmth and light, not shying away from its destructive power one bit. 

Whether your intense longing was due to your bond or simply a lack of self-preservation, you weren’t sure. 

Walking home after the Devil snatched you from the jaws of death, it all suddenly made sense. One of those “you have to feel it to believe it” kind of things, meeting your soulmate. Your steps were unsteady and too light, like your weight was constantly fluctuating as you moved, or you were being carried along by an external force. You felt thoroughly inebriated, oxytocin and dopamine saturating every cell.

With each wobbly pace home, your chest pulsed with clipped waves of pain, like you’d been bruised. But even the dull ache couldn’t ruin the pleasant floaty feeling carrying you back to your place. 

At points in your life, you’d heard musings. Of what it was like to be bonded with another. Though none of them had ever truly made sense until now.

You were torn, unsure of how to feel about it all. On one hand, knowing he existed was comforting. You weren’t crazy or damned or any other awful thing people sometimes said about marked souls. On the other, watching him creep away from you in terror was definitely a blow to your ego.

It was possible he’d had to go take care of something—there was never a dull night in the Kitchen—but given how your mark was radiating a concoction of doubt, shame, and another feeling you couldn’t quite place…it was probable he was truly not interested. You needed a clear answer, though. Whatever his decision was, you’d respect it, but you needed to be sure before giving up on him.

Therein lay the issue. How could you ask him for a clear answer when you didn’t even know his name? You had no idea where to begin looking for him, or if he could even be found.

And what would you say if you did find him? “Hi, you clearly want nothing to do with me but apparently we are destined to mean something to each other so here’s my card”?

What if he was in love with someone else? He could be married, have a family..oh god what if he was married–

A familiar voice called your name, snapping you out of the trance you’d apparently been in. Ripping your gaze away from where it had been listlessly staring at your coffee cup, you met your friend’s amused look with a sheepish laugh.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Imogen shook her head fondly, clearly not actually upset that you’d zoned out.

“Nothing more important than whatever’s on your mind. Spill,” She giggled, poking your arm with a manicured finger.

You groaned, pulling your exposed limb out of harm’s way. “Midge, it's nothing–”

“It's not!” Crossing her arms, the woman across from you gave her best attempt at a stern mom stare. “You've been out of it all day. We've been friends long enough for me to recognize when you're stuck in your head. So tell me, what's got you in such a funk?”

Sighing, you dropped your chin to your chest, overwhelmed with indecision. It's not that you expected Imogen to react badly, but how much could you tell her? I mean, he was a vigilante, a criminal. Would she truly be ok with that?

Taking a leap, you allowed her to clutch your hand, your nerves settling slightly under her encouraging gaze. “I may have met my soulmate last night?”

As if an earthquake had suddenly struck Manhattan, the two flimsy cups standing on the table quivered as the table vibrated beneath them. Your friend had erupted with joyful movement, kicking her feet and gripping your hand painfully tight as she shrieked gleefully.

“WHAT!? WHEN? HOW? Tell me EVERYTHING!” Eyes boring into yours with more enthusiasm than you'd ever held for something, Imogen beamed at you.

As much as you appreciated her zest for life, the other patrons in the small cafe were glaring daggers in your direction, apparently not willing to risk hearing loss for a stranger's happiness. Sending them an apologetic glance, you lay your free hand on Imogen's.

“Hun, I love you, but people are staring.” You chuckled, flicking your eyes to the annoyed regulars behind her.

“Alright, alright, I'll try to contain myself,“ Midge rolled her eyes. ”What's his name? Is he cute? Oh gosh, I shouldn't have assumed it was a he–”

Shaking your head, you patted her hand reassuringly. “'He' would presumably be correct. He sort of..helped me out last night.”

“Helped you out how?”

Deciding on an altered version of events, you left out the part about him donning a mask and saving you from certain death. Two birds, one stone in terms of things Midge would worry over.

“I was trying to snap a picture on the roof of Ink 48. He saw me struggling to get in position and..spotted me? I guess? When we touched...god, Midge. You weren't kidding.” Your voice was breathy, your heart pounding as you thought of his beautiful smirk, his warm hands.

“It's..indescribable.” She agreed, her smile softening as she studied your love struck expression. “What's his name?”

Averting your eyes, you felt a haze of lingering doubt settle over you. “See, that's why I've been out of it. We connected, forged a bond or whatever you want to call it, and he ran away. I..didn't get a good look at his face and I have no clue what his name was so I'm kind of at a loss.”

“Oh sweetie,” Midge pouted, dragging her chair closer to wrap an arm around you. “No leads? He wasn't wearing anything with a company emblem or an ID badge?”

“No, and honestly..I don't even know if he'd want me to track him down. I mean, he ran, Midge. Full on beelined outta there like I had the plague. He could be married? Or just not interested?” Your voice trailed off. You were at a loss, that much was clear.

“Or!” Imogen interjected, her voice optimistic as always. “He was surprised and he panicked. I think we both can relate to that.”

You raised a brow at her in disbelief, but Imogen was undeterred. “Babes, it's a big thing, finding your soulmate. Cut the poor guy some slack! He's probably nervous just like you are.”

“It's possible.” You relented. “But I still don't know if I'll ever see him again.”

“You will.” Your all-too-positive companion shrugged, withdrawing her hand from your hold. “You're way too capable and determined not to.”

“You're too sweet to me.” You scoffed, heat fluttering in your cheeks.

“I'm just being honest!” She giggled, tossing back the rest of her coffee. “C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” You laughed, draining your coffee so Midge could toss both cups in a nearby waste basket.

“You're going to show me exactly where you met him and we'll see if there are any cameras or other things we could use to track him down.”

Steps faltering, you blinked in shock before scurrying after your friend who was confidently traipsing out of the store.

Shifting the strained handle into the crook of your elbow, you angled your body so the weight of the large bag bumped against the flesh of your hip, rather than knocking into unsuspecting strangers. One solid kick from a passerby and the carefully stacked contents would topple–either into the street or onto you. Regardless, you’d have a mess on your hands and you’d be out a solid chunk of money. Take out wasn’t cheap these days, dammit.

You just hoped the hefty bill would be worth it.

It had been almost a week since your run-in with your soulmate and you were still mostly at a loss. Despite Imogen's confidence and your combined dedication, you were no closer to knowing his identity. Your failure to find anything definitive at the scene was partially because nothing had been left behind and almost entirely because Midge was still under the impression you were looking for a standard nine-to-fiver.

You weren't quite sure how to come clean, not when she'd spent so much of her free time over the past few days accompanying you to the same street, scouring the crowds for anyone who might look familiar to you. But, until you knew whether he wanted you in his life, you were hesitant to confess  the one thing you did know about him.

After the third day of returning home empty-handed, you'd cut your friend loose. Telling her you were going to regroup before trying again. As lovely as Midge was, she was as clueless about the Devil's whereabouts as you were.

The internet, however, was chock full of fanatics and critics overly willing to share the opinions they had about him. In general, the city appreciated his efforts--the local message boards and blogs brimming with praise and gratitude. You couldn't help but feel a gleaming rush of pride with every compliment, appreciating the citizens for recognizing the man's work.

Of course, there were negative threads too. Calling Daredevil a threat and a coward. Screaming at him to give himself up, leave the crime-fighting to law enforcement. At first, you'd engaged with those users too. But, after one argument sparked so much rage you almost shattered your laptop screen in an effort to remove yourself from the fight, you began to ignore anything less than positive. Whether because of your bond or your genuine admiration for your soulmate, the disapproval created a primal urge to protect, to defend. Standing by wasn't an option, so you put blinders on to filter out the objections.

As a whole, however, the online forums were helpful. There were a few sites dedicated to tracking local vigilante news, allowing you to assemble a makeshift map of places the Devil frequented. You'd reached out to a few of the more active users to see if they could help you, but pretty quickly realized that the claim 'daredevil is my soulmate' was probably more common than you'd originally thought. So, for now, your feeble, hand drawn maps would have to do.

Unsurprisingly, Daredevil seemed to have a flexible schedule that mostly revolved around where he was needed. The idea of staging a crime, or intentionally putting yourself in harm's way did occur to you, but you weren't that desperate quite yet. And you doubted that would be well-received. Instead, you categorized locations by number of sightings and planned to work your way down the list.

Tonight, you were starting just before sunset for the roof of a building near the Clinton Community Garden. According to your limited research, the crimson-clad vigilante was often spotted between 47th and 50th street, around the intersections of 9th or 10th. A decent area to start with for sure, given that it was pretty central within Hell's Kitchen, and 10th street was a haven for petty crime.

Two failed attempts to buzz into apartment buildings later, someone finally answered your request over the intercom, unlatching the door for you. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, your stomach was in knots by the time you found a roof access door. Your every breath was measured, laden with doubt in the wake of so many possibilities. Pulse racing, you gulped in the humid evening air, bending at the waist to allow blood flow to your brain.

You'd been so nervous to confront him, you'd neglected your own needs. Dehydration and low blood sugar were only exacerbated by this obnoxious heat. Cringing at the realization, you paced to the edge of the roof, settling into a cross-legged position with your back against the squabby brick perimeter. With the back of your hand, you swiped at the beading sweat along your brow, doing your best to mop it up.

Now for the fun part. Waiting.

Patience was a virtue that didn't always come easily to you. Especially when your anxiety stepped up to the plate. Twiddling your thumbs, anticipating every possible thing that could go wrong only made time pass more slowly. And it wasn't as if there was a deadline you were inching towards.

Not a set one, at least. The food you'd brought wouldn't last forever, though you were hoping the thermal bag would keep it from spoiling too quickly. If it didn't, well, you'd feel pretty foolish for bruising your arm carrying the sizable thing around town.

Lifting the strap from where it was currently digging into your shoulder, you set it carefully on the ground, peeking inside to inspect the contents. Everything looked ok, thankfully. A bit banged up from the journey, but mostly unharmed and definitely just as tasty.

Relaxing into the prickly surface holding you upright, you scanned the skyline, admiring the wash of pinks and oranges slipping between skyscrapers. You hadn't wanted to tote your camera around in addition to all the food, but you were regretting that decision now. Somewhat remorsefully, you pulled a paperback book from an outside pocket on the tote. Imogen would be thrilled you were finally starting it.

The book was better than you'd expected. A historical fiction novel about the Nazi invasion in France–something you knew very little about. It managed to keep your attention for nearly 90 minutes, though you did take brief breaks to stretch and scan the horizon for a familiar figure.

As much as you wanted to stick it out, the food wouldn't last too much longer. Knee-deep in a mental quarrel with yourself about whether to give up for the night, your stomach dropped–yanked by an extreme force as if you were driving over a massive hill. It was intoxicating, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Scrambling to your feet, you teetered on wobbly legs, nearly faceplanting on the concrete. All sense of balance had been ripped from you, as if the flat roof had been replaced with a trampoline, bouncing with every step you took. Before you could regain your bearings, a shadowy figure appeared at the opposite end of the roof.

His chin was angled down, mirrored fists clenched on either side of his broad, menacing stance. In the sliver of remaining sunlight, you could make out his sharp jawline and pink lips–your heart fluttering as they parted.

“You shouldn’t be up here.” He strode toward you, graceful and precise. Far more coordinated than you felt at the moment.

“Please,” You murmured, focus lost in the glow of fading light lining his body, a flexible halo around him. “Please, I-I just want to talk.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Stopping his approach about 10 feet from you, his mouth twitched with a smirk. You were surprised to sense humor in his words. “Seems like you might be late for your dinner plans.”

Chuckling weakly in response, your face flooded with heat. Something about his presence made your brain melt into soup. His confidence and cocky attitude stole the explanation right off your tongue, leaving you to stand there uselessly until he nodded to the rectangular bag lying at your feet.

“Oh, sorry, um,“ Scurrying for the shining handle, you pulled it into your arms, extending it out to him. ”I brought this for you actually.”

In a remote corner of your stomach, a tiny curl of something warm unwound. Surprise, then a much stronger sensation, not unlike fondness or gratitude. A mix of both perhaps?

“For me?” As he whispered, you couldn't help but smile. Those sudden emotions, they were his, not your own. The hesitant acceptance continued into his rasping voice.

“If you will accept it, then yes. As a thank you. For saving me and, well, for everyone else you’ve saved.” You answered, taking a step in his direction.

Hands shooting up, blocking an incoming hit you hadn't thrown, his guard slid back into place. With each inch you moved forward, he withdrew, like there was an invisible barrier forcing the two of you apart.

“I don't do this for handouts.” He growled, shoulders squaring off. You'd spooked him somehow.

“I never said you did.” You shrugged, sending him a soft smile. Retreating towards your end of the roof, you drew the bag towards your chest. “I just wanted to thank you, and to ask you a few questions. I figured they would be easier to swallow if I had something for you in return.”

Tilting his head at you, Daredevil flexed his fingers, no doubt fighting the urge to lock them into fists. His tongue dipped between his lips, sliding over the lower as he pondered. “What sort of questions?”

A bubble of pride rolled up your throat at the idea you'd gotten this feral cat of a man to trust you, even marginally. “About the other night. Nothing about your identity or anything, and if they seem too invasive you don't have to answer them at all. I'll respect whatever boundaries you need to set, but I would have regretted never asking. Does that make sense?”

The stubby horns on his helmet arced in semi-circles as he nodded. “I think so.”

“I just...did you feel it?” Grimacing as the question slipped out, you tried to clarify. “I mean, that's a horrible way to ask that but, er, when you..caught me, I think something–”

“Yes.” He interrupted you, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

Another coarse nod. “Yes. I felt it.”

“Oh my god,” You'd expected this answer, but you were still dumbfounded. “I thought maybe I was just crazy.”

“You're not crazy.” He huffed, a glimpse of his teeth shining in the city light as he smirked.

“So, that means we're...” You trailed off, not wanting to scare him away with the word.

The Devil stilled, his jaw quivering as his teeth grit together. The fragile peace you’d somehow achieved began to crack.

“It's ok!” You hurriedly reassured him. “I don't, I'm not–”

Tripping over your words, you held up a hand. After a deep breath, you tried again. “It's up to you what we mean to each other. I didn't come here to nag you, or demand things from you.”

“You didn't?” The question was posed as a statement. He didn't believe you.

“Not at all. That wouldn't be fair. To you or..well, to the other people in your life. I just wanted to know if it was real and to show my appreciation for the other night.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you watched as his posture slumped slightly.

“You didn't,” He sighed, crossing his arms. Holy shit was he hiding saplings under there? “You didn't have to do that.”

Swallowing harshly as you collected your thoughts, you giggled nervously. “I know, but I wanted to. Can't be easy to eat while flipping around the city.”

Another puff of breath, a hint of laughter. “What exactly is my reward?”

Chewing at the flesh of your lip, you fumbled for the zipper. “Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I brought a few options. They're sort of all over the map.”

Laying out the thin cotton blanket you'd packed, you withdrew a myriad of plastic containers and lined them up, describing each as you went. “Gnocchi and bolognese from Il Tinello, very hearty and comforting. If you want something a bit different, an Alice sandwich from that shop 'Toasties'? And, if you don't eat animal products, seitan satay from Plant-Blossom.”

“You weren't kidding.” The Devil remarked, creeping towards the edge of the blanket. “You ventured all over the city for this. You didn't–”

“Please don't feel bad!” You rushed out, stomach sinking at the guilty little pout on his face. “I was looking for something to do. Besides, you deserve a decent meal for sticking around to hear me out.”

“As much as I appreciate it, it's more food than I can eat.” The man protested, crouching beside the edge of the blanket, not quite crossing the boundary yet.

“I'll have some of whatever you don't want. And, if we still can't finish it, well I'm sure there's someone around here who will take it.” You reasoned, settling atop your folded legs. Despite your nerves, you kept your voice steady and your stature unassuming, not wanting to activate the man’s “scary Devil mode” again.

“Thank you.” Kneeling on the concrete, the vigilante cocked his head at the lineup of options, fingers dancing over his thighs hesitantly. His gravelly voice diffused into a murmur, showering you like a spray of glass beads. Cool and solid, steady as rain.

You nibbled at the inside of your lip, smiling softly as the treacherous defender of the city flushed pink in the pale golden hue of the sun. Despite his harsh exterior and skeptical nature, you were swooning at the glimpse of the man behind the mask. He was passionate and humble, truthfully taken aback by your gratitude. “I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you. So, are you hungry?”

Lips splitting with a beautifully subtle grin, the Devil nodded. “Always.”

Satisfaction tugged at your heart, making you crinkle your nose as you held back a proud smile. “Help yourself!”

You hadn't been lying to him, the array of options was for his benefit; it wasn't much of a repayment if he didn't enjoy the food. As his hand reached for the first take out container, you realized there was something in it for you as well. In addition to him answering your brief question, and spending more than a moment nearby, you'd end up learning about him.

Something as simple as choice of meal wasn't overly revealing, but it confirmed some suspicions you had about your other half. He wasn't adventurous for the hell of it, his decisions–though seemingly rash–were purposeful and thought out. You understood the enticing pull, the desire to stick to your routine or things you already knew.

Bruised fingers popped the seal on the gnocchi, cradling the warm plastic tub with a fond glance in your direction. “Did you happen to bring silverware?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment swatting at you as you scrambled for the utensils in your bag. “Oh gosh, yes, I am so sorry–”

“Don't apologize.” A comforting weight settled over the back of your hand, the rough pad of a thumb brushing over your knuckles. Tearing your eyes away from the packets in your grip, your mouth hung open in surprise as Daredevil tenderly swiped his finger over your skin. You froze in place, scared that the smallest twitch would ruin the moment.

Face slackening with realization, the man dropped your hand, sliding a set of plastic silverware out of your loose grip. “This will work. Thank you.”

Shoulders hunching, he pointed his body away from you, still kneeling rather than fully relaxing into a seated position. Busying yourself with your own plate of food, you tried to shove down the disappointment that gnawed at you, your fragile consciousness unable to stave off the feeling of rejection as he turned to face the city.

“Has it been busy tonight? The crime fighting, I mean?” You posed the question, hoping to bridge the literal and metaphorical gap once again widening between the pair of you.

The man opposite you hummed thoughtfully, swallowing before he spoke. “Not too bad.”

“That's good. Hopefully you'll be able to get some rest, then. If you need rest, that is. I mean, if you don't have a day job that would make it easier but how could you afford to live in this city? I guess you could probably bounce around and evade capture, but that sounds exhausting. How do you–” Cutting yourself off, you clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shit, I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to ask about that,  I'm just nervous which tends to make me ramble.“

Scratching at the back of his neck, Daredevil curled further in on himself. “I, uh, I guess I can't blame you for being nervous.”

“Oh, it's not your fault.” You promised, shaking your head violently. “I'm sort of like this with everyone. Lack of experience, I guess.”

Studying you for a moment, his lips briefly flickering with a smile. “I understand that. People are complicated.”

“Understatement of the century.” You huffed, a familiar blossom of warmth pooling in your chest when he echoed the chuckle.

Sitting in cozy silence, you ate quickly, stealing peeks at the muscular man every so often to gauge his discomfort. As much as you wanted to believe you were making progress, the rational side of your brain recognized the finite nature of this exchange. It was likely that he didn't intend to do this again. This was a favor extended to you for your appreciation.

As darkness descended on the skyline, cloaking the stark angles in shadows, a tightly wound knot of sorrow clogging your throat as you tried to finish your sandwich. Choking down the last bite, you lifted the final plate.

“Don't suppose you'd want any of this for the road?” Ignoring the tremble in your words, you began folding the blanket, avoiding his gaze.

“Sure,” He gently accepted, prying the container from your grasp and taking extra care not to make contact with your skin. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You croaked around the lump in your throat, coughing to clear it. “Just, be safe out there.”

Giving you a sad smile, the masked man nodded firmly. “I’ll try my best.” 

Swaying awkwardly as you stood, shouldering your bag on the way up, your mind raced through its entire vocabulary in an attempt to find the words for a proper goodbye. You’d interacted with this man for less than an hour, yet he meant the world to you–but telling him that would be weird, wouldn’t it? You really needed a manual for these things. A roadmap to help you tread lightly, avoid landmines. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure the whole “my soulmate is a vigilante” thing wasn’t common enough to warrant an expert. 

“I, um, I’m going to head home before it’s super late. But, here–” Rushing through the excuse as quickly as you could, you held out a tiny rectangle of cardstock, holding your breath while he slipped it from your outstretched fingers. “My phone number is on there if you, er, if you ever need it.”

Chin dipping towards his chest, he cocked his head, studying the scrap of paper. “I appreciate it. Be safe getting home.”

“I will.” You vowed, blinking back the building sheen across your vision. “Take care of yourself.”

Before you could stumble and say something he didn’t want to hear, you made your exit.

Taglist: @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Better? (Doctor Who Drabble)

Twelfth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor comes to realise his lack of physical affection has been having more of an impact than he thought.

Fic type: hurt/comfort

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @stilestotherescue @madspads @catlynharper @merrilark @jaziona92 @yeehawbrothers @mochabonesblog @iguirisu @thegen3sisark @wereallbrokenangels @florduarte (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had made sense when he'd first regenerated. It had seemed to be a particularly difficult regeneration, but you'd thought maybe he'd grow out of the aversion to your touch. You had hoped, anyway.

Yes, you'd been with him when he'd had his previous face, and you'd loved him through all his faults and issues, and you'd thought, or rather hoped, that when he regenerated that he would feel the same.

But it was hard to tell.

Day in and day out, he barely touched you. He'd hold your hand as you ran from Daleks or squeezed your arm to get your attention to show you something at a market. He'd pat your head affectionately and give you a charming smile from across the room. But he didn't... touch you anymore. He didn't embrace you, he didn't brush his thumb over your cheek or tuck your ear when it was long enough for tucking. He didn't press light kisses to your cheeks.

And yet, sometimes when he smiled at you, it was still like he saw the universe in your eyes. It was confusing and hurtful, and you weren't sure how much longer you could live with that kind of uncertainty.

"What's wrong?" The Doctor asked, looking over your form suspiciously. Nothing got past him, clearly. You sighed deeply, rubbing at your forehead. "And don't give me that 'it's fine' nonsense you humans do, either. Come on, spit it out."

You gave him a warning look and he backed off... but only barely. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, making you smile despite yourself.

"What is it?" He asked again, softer this time. His brows furrowed in concern when he realised this might actually be something serious and not a 'silly human problem' as he called them.

"Do you not love me any more?" You asked, immediately regretting the wording. All these months you'd practised what you'd wanted to say and when the moment finally came- you botched it. Figures.

"Love you? Of course, I love you," he scoffed. "What kind of silly question is that?" Then he slowed, face turning into a deep and upset frown. "Do you not think I love you? I admit I've been rather caught up in other things- but just the other day we went on that date to the Human Museum."

You shuddered at the memory. He'd meant well, of course, but seeing preserved bodies detailing your species' entire evolutionary growth was not something you'd planned on ever seeing.

"You don't touch me anymore," you replied self-consciously, casting thoughts of the museum aside. The Doctor's frown deepened as he thought back on it. Realising you were right, he came to stand in front of you. Softly, he took both your hands in his, stopping your anxious fidgeting.

"My dear, I had no idea physical affection was so important to you," he said apologetically. The genuine regret in his expression made you feel a little better at least. "I'll make an effort to be more affectionate, yes?"

You replied with a smile, soft and agreeable. The Doctor squeezed your hands and pulled you into a hug. It was a little awkward at first. You'd only hugged him perhaps twice before and you'd spent so long yearning for it that now you finally had it- you didn't quite know what to do.

And then his arms tightened ever so slightly around you, and you melted into him, wrapping yourself close. Gods, it felt good.

"Better?" He asked, nuzzling your neck, voice muffled by your skin.

"Better," you confirmed.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

I have an idea I would love to request but I wanted to check with you first! I couldn't help but think Astarion would be so infuriated & confused by me. Like when he held a knife at their throat, they're willing to give him a chance. Their reason is he has no real reason to trust them since he doesn't know them at all so they would show to him that they can be trusted. Then he's more confused when the first time he tries to drink blood from them, reader is shocked then immediately asks questions if it hurts, do they need to be healed, how should their position be so it's easier for him to drink, what would happen after that, etc. Even after he drank & they were feeling the effects, they asked if he still needed more. He answered them no confusedly before they were satisfied with his answer then passed out. He is both relieved and baffled at what just happened. What do you think of this? Please tell me if you're not interested! Thanks!

Local Vampire Spawn confused by care and offers of friendship, more at eleven.

~

Astarion, surprisingly, had gotten pretty lucky when it came to his newfound traveling companions. Two master swordsmen, a barbarian tiefling menace, and a Shar priestess were about the best one could ask for when it came to having protection. He could probably do without the do-gooder druid and walking time bomb of a wizard, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

And then there was you. The unofficial leader of the merry band of weirdos. Hyper competent, kind, and a powerful, and admittingly gorgeous, warrior. You would be perfection if you weren't so... frustrating.

Simply put, Astarion thought you were an idiot. A well-meaning, naive idiot, but a moron nonetheless.

What other explanation was there for your delusional trust in him? Your introduction had involved him pressing a damned blade to your throat, with every intent to kill you if you decided to struggle. Maybe even if you hadnt, if you had been alone. The correct response to a first meeting of that caliber would be to completely disregard him. Or kill him, for someone who had any conception of self-preservation.

But no, instead you gave him the offer to come with you, like that wasn't an absolutely insane thing to do. You had been so understanding, insisting that his penance for trickery and threats was justified. That you would be sure to earn his trust, like that was something worth obtaining.

At first, Astarion tried not to look too deeply into it. You were all going through hell, it made sense to travel in a pack, to find solidarity in others while trapped in a land full of endless horrors. It would explain why you kept the violate gith and the walking bomb around, despite their faults. There was also that foolish air of empathetic care about you at all times that helped explain things, one that extended far past Astarion himself. Though it did have limits. Astarion had borne witness to how unforgiving you could be when someone manipulated your trust. Though he completely agreed that the Hag known as Auntie Ethel fully deserved a slow, painful death, he hadn't been prepared for just how... literal you would take it.

So while you weren't completely without common sense, you still lacked a good deal of it. Like the fact that letting a vampire spawn drink your blood at night wasn't included in those same limits.

He hadn't even meant to open that particular door of feeding on you. It was just... so terribly hard to resist. You smelled divine, the scent of your blood always lingering beneath the surface of your skin. Cloying and decadent, the slightest whiff nearly enough to make his mouth water. He had been trying so damn hard to hide his true nature, feeding on whatever he could find in the dead of night. But none of it felt like enough. It should have been, he had more access to sustenance in the forest than he ever had under Cazedor's thumb. And wild boar were certainly better than sewer rats at the least.

But it wasn't enough to tame his growing desire for your taste. It had just happened. One moment he was simply on his own bedroll, staring up at the stars. And in the next the hunger was overtaking him. He was crawling over you before his mind could even catch up to his actions, his mouth already widening.

And then you woke-up, startled enough to knock Astarion out of his all-consuming thirst. You scrambled to your feet, staring at him with wide eyes as he struggled through an explanation. He had every expecation that this was it. This as the moment you would toss him to the side, realizing once and for all that he wasn't worth the danger.

But instead you just nodded along, the first question out of your mouth when he finished a simple, "Will it hurt?"

Astarion blinked at you, confused at you lack of reaction. He had admitted to being a literal monster for gods' sake. And that's what you were most curious about?

"Yes," Astarion said slowly, watching your face for every microexpression, "It will hurt, briefly. Then the pain fades into something a bit more... tolerable."

You nodded, asking another question, "Would I need healing after? Or would a bandage be enough? I would hate to wake Shawdowheart so late."

That was-he-were you actually considering this?

Astarion shook his head, hope and excitement starting to bubble to the surface, "No, a bandage should be fine. You might want her to top you off with something in the morning, but it won't be anything that can't wait."

"Okay," You said, nodding to yourself once before meeting his eyes with a determined gaze, "In that case, should I lay down? Or would standing be better?"

Astarion could scarcely believe your willingness. Part of him wanted to ask if you were sure that you wanted to do this, but his sheer lust for the taste of your blood shut that part down. Instead Astarion was reaching for your hand, gently tugging you down to lay back on your bedroll.

"This will be perfect," He murmured as he crawled back over you, his fangs protruding on their own accord, "Now stay still darling, we don't want to tear anything, do we?"

Astarion could just make out a lovely flush grace your cheeks at the pet name, barely visible by the campfire. It was a good look on you, that mixture of embarrassment and nerves, one that he wouldn't mind seeing again. But for now he had other appetites to attend to.

Astarion bit down, nearly moaning when the divine taste hit his tongue. Somehow it managed to taste even better than it smelled, warm ambrosia sliding down his throat, filling him with pure energy. It was an exhilarating experience, so much better than anything he'd ever tasted before. It was nearly too good, decadent enough for him to feel greedy.

He could feel you shaking under him, letting out the occasional whimper and whine. He was vaguely aware that this had been going on for too long, that he was taking too much. But it was so damn hard to resist.

It wasn't until you were gently pushing at him, whimpering, "I-I think that's enough."

There was the slightest touch of fear in your voice, the only thing that worked to pierce through his bloodthirsty haze. Astarion rolled off of you, licking his lips with a happy sigh. That was... better than he could ever have imagined.

He hopped up to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you do the same. You seemed woozy and unsteady as you stood, proving his suspicion that he had taken too much. It made the smallest lick of guilt creep up his spine. But it's not like you were ever going to let him do it again, he might as well indulge-

"Are you sure that was enough?" You asked, completely derailing his train of thought, "Will you be okay with just that? Or should we try again in a few hours?"

Were you actually insane?

"No my friend. I think I'll be fine," Astarion said carefully, "Another night perhaps. But, uh, are you okay?"

You shrugged, already sinking back down to your knees, snuggling back into your bedroll like nothing was out of the ordinary, "I'm sure I will be. Just a little tired now is all. Good night."

And then you were closing your eyes, out like a light while Astarion stood above you. Confused beyond belief. That was... how were you still alive? If this was the kind of thing you were willing to do for a near stranger, with nearly 0 reservations?

It was insane, idiotic, stupid. And now you just fell asleep right in front of the same man who cannibalized your blood? What the fuck was that? How was one supposed to respond to that? Astarion was grateful yes, beyond so. He went on to have a very successful hunt, even if his catches tasted worse than ever, they still left him feeling satisfied and capable. But he was plagued with thoughts of you the entire time. Thoughts that followed him through to the morning and the days to come.

You were so damn lucky that he was the spawn that was kidnapped. Half of his brethren would have already used your trust to bleed you dry before fleeing into the night. Gods knows what would have happened to you if it was Cazador who was taken in his place. That thought alone was enough to make shiver, clouding his brain with a massive discomfort at what someone like that would do with someone as... kind as you.

Astarion would never allow it. As stupid as you were, it didn't mean you deserved to be used. Well... by anyone besides himself of course. He was starting to think that he could use all of this blind trust to his advantage. Get you attached to him, force himself as a priority in your life that was worth protecting. But for that to happen you would have to stay alive. And that would mean someone would have to protect you from your infuriating self.

Astarion supposed that would just have to be his job. What it meant that the idea of doing such didn't fill him with resentment? He wasn't sure, and he sure as hells wasn't going to try and find out.

[shatcey]

Gilbert on Yves seq

In a couple of words… this bastard (lovingly) appears no more than 5 times. But… he stole all the attention. Maybe it's just me.

I've ONLY finished reading the dramatic ending, so maybe my thoughts are incomplete. But I finally figure him out… I think...

A few screenshots with my thoughts below the cut. Gilbert decided to participate. I can't control them at all.

With Belle

He doesn't really hide his interest. And Belle is very afraid of him. Nothing new, she's afraid of him on every route. Have no idea why. He's such a sweet bunny-boy.

You know, I'm really worried about your lack of self-preservation… Wanna cookie? (hold a cookie in my open palm) ...(he took a cookie) Do you really think that's enough? (deep exhale) You're just exploiting my affection for you…

But at the beginning of the dramatic ending, they have a nice conversation in the hall. And Belle shows that she was chosen to be Belle NOT for her pretty eyes.

He had once again demonstrated his ability to read her mind. Obviously, because she still hadn't learned how to keep a poker face.

And she was scared again… a rabbit indeed.

With Yves

I have already written about his strange hatred for Yves. It doesn't make any sense. Gilbert is a rational person and he has no rational reason to hate Yves. But he continues to mock him.

I think this part can give us some information.

The last line reminds me of his interactions with Belle on his route. And suddenly I realised… I tried to analyze his words from the point of view of a person who has very general views on the meaning of words. But this is Gilbert. He put completely distorted meanings into the words "hate" and "love". How could I forget about it???

So now I think he doesn't hate Yves. He is worried about him. He grew up in a country where you'd be killed if you showed shred of mercy, so he's worried that something like this might happen to Yves. He put him to the trial (as he told Belle, "unintentionally", but with a genius you never know for sure) to either teach him a lesson, get him to change his naive way of thinking, or… to make him stronger.

In chapter 14, they have a nice chat in the hall

Bunny, this is a cold country, so it's pretty cold in the halls too, so you shouldn't spend so much time there… Why do you keep calling me bunny? Because you're bunny. A black bunny with fluffy hair. I wanna ruffle them so badly… Aren't you afraid of me? Why should I? I have cookies… ... (took the cookie) This bribe will not work indefinitely. Well… Then I'll bake a cake.

So, they had a chat

He doesn't confirm or deny this. But if you read his route, you will realize that he describes himself quite accurately. And the funny thing is that he says it in the most mocking way, so Yves definitely won't be able to believe it's true.

The last two lines again give the impression that he is worried… about Yves and Belle. He warned him to be more cautious and less trusting… So that he doesn't lose what he holds dear. Someone might take this as a threat, I see it as advice. Advice from a man who once went through this and is really worried that his beloved or her fiance will go through the same thing.

This is just my personal impression. This may or may not be true. You have every right to disagree with me.

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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