#you might spot all the flaws

[holy-fricken-moly]

Seraphim Crowley and Cheribum Aziraphale but, you know, they got demoted. Or, Crowley got fired, Aziraphale got demoted.

Like, 2 weeks' worth of work. Mostly because of the wings :)

[mousegirl-cheerleader]

It's gettin pretty tough to keep squeakin I'll tell you that much

[myromanholidays]

did I finish the entirety of season two from the moment the clock struck midnight to now, 8am-ish, and is my brain both sludgy muck while every molecule vibrates at frequencies never reached before? why did I do this now I gotta wait another two years for s3

[the-palelady]

simon deserves a quiet, loving marriage.

after everything the man has been through he deserves someone that loves him the right way. someone who sees past the flaws, the scars, the darkness that has embedded itself into his mind.

words of affirmation don’t have to be spoken to one another. the two of you just know how the other feels just through their actions or even just the look on their face, the glint of light behind the others eyes as your gazes meet.

he makes you laugh with his occasional morbid jokes or jokes that most wouldn’t find funny, and in return you do the same for him. your laughter is contagious to him. it makes the corners of his lips twitch into a smile that makes your heart beat just a bit faster. has your face brightening in a way that has him asking, “y’alright, love?”

you both meet each other in the middle. not everything is thrown onto one person: laundry, the dishes, you name it. you and simon help each other, work as a team because that’s what partners do. nothing is ever done alone.

he loves the stories about your day no matter how minuscule they may seem to you. they are everything to him. he loves the crinkle at the edges of your eyes when you have a bright smile spreading wide across your face. he loves your mind, how intelligent you are, how you help remind him of things that he so easily forgets.

but most of all he loves how gentle you are. and he’ll always feel like he doesn’t deserve it. he’s a bad man isn’t he? he’s taken the lives of countless of people and yet here you are preparing the man a plate full of your amazing food, warming his bed, and standing with that sparkle in your eyes by the front door when he comes home.

those tendrils that sit in waiting at the back of his mind slowly creep in every so often and it’s like you can see them with those sharp, knowing eyes of yours. the second you spot them you’re shooing them away with a kiss to his brow bone, nuzzling just a bit closer to him in bed until it feels like he might consume you whole with how big he is.

when you finally relax into him, your lips pressed against his temple, he just barely makes out, “everything will be alright.”

and he knows then and there that he does deserve you, that he does deserve your laughter, your smiles, the warmth you bring him, and your kindness.

simon knows everything will be alright because he has you.

[supernovalcholism]

Academic rivals Viktor and reader who do not like each other at all but have a strong sexual tension that neither of them wants to admit. Plzzz🙏😭

Absolutely babei love this idea sm heres a small portion cus I'm drunk and if yall hype it up I'll make a part 2

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Unspoken Rivalry

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ɢɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ: ɴᴜɴ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇ, ʜᴏꜱᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ????. ɪᴅᴋ

The library buzzed with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of paper. Viktor sat at his usual table, hunched over a stack of notes and textbooks. He was the definition of composed—sharp cheekbones, immaculate posture, and an air of self-assured arrogance that grated on your nerves.

And, unfortunately, he was the only other person in your advanced theory seminar who matched your academic prowess.

You strode into the library, your eyes narrowing the moment you spotted him. He glanced up briefly, his icy blue eyes meeting yours with a flicker of annoyance before he returned to his work.

"Didn’t know the library allowed distractions," he said smoothly, his voice laced with faux politeness.

"Funny. I was just about to say the same thing," you shot back, taking the seat directly across from him with more force than necessary.

This was your dynamic—constant barbs, veiled insults, and an unspoken competition for every academic accolade. You couldn’t stand him, with his perfect grades and that maddening smirk he wore whenever he outperformed you.

But what was worse? The way your stomach flipped every time he leaned closer to point out a flaw in your argument or the electric heat that sparked whenever his hand accidentally brushed yours during group discussions.

The tension crackled between you now, thick and undeniable. You opened your laptop, pointedly ignoring him. Except you couldn’t. Not when the subtle scent of his cologne drifted across the table or when he leaned back in his chair, stretching slightly, exposing just a sliver of toned skin beneath his sweater.

"You know," Viktor said after a moment, his voice quieter, "if you spent less time glaring at me, you might actually win the next debate."

"Bold words coming from someone who barely edged me out last time," you snapped.

His smirk widened. "Barely? I seem to recall the professor using the word resounding."

You clenched your jaw, hating how much you wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face—and hating even more how your mind wandered to other ways to shut him up.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t comfortable. It was charged. Your eyes met his again, and for a brief second, something flickered in his gaze—something raw, intense, and far too dangerous to acknowledge.1all

You broke the eye contact first, heat rising to your cheeks. Viktor didn’t look away, though.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "You’re starting to look at me like you don’t hate me."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you snapped, hastily gathering your things.

You stormed out of the library, your heart pounding. Behind you, Viktor chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t go back to the library for the rest of the week. Not because you were avoiding him—of course not—but because the thought of seeing Viktor again made your chest feel too tight, your thoughts spiraling into places they shouldn’t.

Unfortunately, fate wasn’t on your side.

The next seminar session started with the professor announcing a new assignment. “A research paper, due in two weeks. To make things more interesting, I’ll be assigning partners.”

You stiffened in your seat.

“Viktor and—”

No. Please, no.

"–you—"

Your stomach plummeted. Across the room, Viktor glanced over at you, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He gave a little wave, clearly reveling in your discomfort.

After class, you cornered him in the hallway.

“We need to set boundaries,” you said sharply.

“Boundaries?” Viktor tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Is that what we’re calling the tension between us now?”

You bristled. “There is no tension.”

“Hmm. If you say so.” He leaned against the wall, entirely too close. “But I hope you don’t mind working late. I find I’m most productive at night.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but no words came. His gaze was locked on yours, his expression a mix of challenge and something else—something darker, something that made heat rise to your face.

“Fine,” you snapped, stepping back before you could betray yourself further. “Tonight. My place. Seven."

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Hype it up soon and I'll drop a pt2 for yall XPP

- enya

edit [12/12/24] heres the 2nd part!!

[symbioticsimplicity]

Imagine if you will, Alastor, pettiest man in Hell once again choosing to lean into a relationship he DOES NOT have just to piss off a Morningstar.

But this time its Lilith.

When she shows back up, he is suddenly ALL OVER Lucifer. He might hate Luci but he hates Lilith more so he's going to make it very clear that he's closer ro her beloved than she is right now.

And he DOES pay attention so suddenly Lucifer is confronted by just like. An amount of care he hasn't felt in years. Alastor knows how he takes his coffee, the signs of him being overstimulated, his favorite song, and how he likes to unwind. And he makes sure to pamper him by taking care of all of it before he could ask, even if he would never.

And Lucifer isn't *stupid* he KNOWS there's ulterior motives but its also so nice??? Apparently Alastor can be downright lovely when given a reason to be?? Suddenly he understands why Charlie was so eager to look past his flaws, and accept his disingenuous affection. Man doesn't do SHIT by halves so it *feels* real.

Cue Alastor selling himself Luci and Charlie as one big happy family like its his *job*.

Lilith is none percent pleased by this but if she disciplines him she'll be showing her hand AND hurting her husband and daughter. The bastard put himself in the perfect spot.

Which leaves Lucifer desperately trying not to catch feelings while also trying to reconcile with his estranged wife, questioning if he even really wants to. Charlie just wants her parents to be happy but is also kind of pleased to see Alastor and her Dad getting along? Not that she doesn't want her parents back together, but Alastor is treating her Dad like...really well?

Alastor is having the time if his afterlife. If he'd known how much fun it was to be a homewrecker he would have done this years ago.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Alistair, under a cut for length:

"Ah, Alistair. Depending on who you ask, he's the adorable woobie with the biggest heart or the irritating, over-used man-child. Yes, he is indeed all of those things. Good characters have flaws to go with their virtues. Ugly spots. That is literally their humanity. He was a bit of a bear to write, at the outset. James (Ohlen, the first creative director on DAO) had this idea he needed to be a grizzled Warden veteran - older, distrusting. Everyone hated him instantly. I call this the Carth Onasi Problem, and suggested to James that maybe I try something else. My observation says that the characters who are generally liked the most are the supportive ones. Enthusiastic. Funny? Sometimes, sure, but that's *not* required. I need to digress. See, at the time James had this (regrettable) period where he believed everything could be derived from a formula. He even sold this idea to the founders, Ray and Greg. Google 'BioWare formula'. Anyway, how this relates is because James thought the DAO cast needed a Minsc: a comedy character who would become super popular and, ideally, the icon of DA. "Isn't that Alistair?" you ask. "Arguable," I say, "but no." James had me to up a huge list of 'comedic archetypes' and I wrote some possible dialogue for each one. Then he had the team vote. The winning archetype? The Buffoon - like Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin. James was pleased. I was not. "The problem," I said, "is I don't find the Buffoon funny." 😅"

""But you're a professional." "Sure, I *can* write him... but comedy isn't science. I need to find him funny. If I write him, the only comedy I'll mine is where he makes fun of himself." James took that on board and then passed the character onto someone else. The result? Oghren. I rest my case. So back to the supportive character: that was my thought for a new Alistair. It was a special case, after all - the DAO PC was thrust into a terrible situation. They needed someone who had their back. A bud. A *likeable* bud. I was watching Buffy at the time, and my thoughts drifted towards Xander. Now, I know Joss Whedon is persona non grata these days, but this was 2006, OK? I was watching Buffy and thought, "man, Xander is such a wasted character" and considered how to fix him. Then I realized this might work for Alistair. Plus, I wanted to see if I could replicate the Whedon vocal patter. That was the new Alistair: a more useful and likeable yet equally dorky version of Xander. We had very strict rules in DA about language: no modern speech styles, colloquialisms, any words that came into use in our world after 1900 got severe side eye... but Alistair? Alistair got a blanket pass. Was it great that the lead writer's leading man got to break the rules? I guess not, but it's my opinion that you can break those kinds of rules - selectively, in small doses. Too much and you break the illusion. And it worked. Alistair was an instant hit. Not just with the team, but with the fans."

"Confession time? Yes, I knew Goldanna wasn't meant to be Alistair's mother. But neither was Fiona, originally. I think fans caught wind of some revisionism at work, and OK it's true. I had a more Arthurian idea for his birth but I stopped liking it... yet not soon enough to go back and make edits. Should I have just left it be, left Goldanna as his mother? Maybe. It was one of those writer things I just couldn't let go of and I probably could have used someone to sit me down and go "Gaider, please. Just stop." I still like Fiona, and where I took it. But I probably shouldn't have gone there. Casting Alistair was SUCH a chore. He required a weird mix of devilish charm, but with enough sincerity and adorkableness it didn't come off as smarmy. Every audition went full smarm... until Steve Valentine up and appeared out of nowhere. In the midst of a batch of audition files, there he was. We brought Steve in "just to try out", and he pulled it off. Even the "frog time" line, which (seriously) nobody else could. And when he got to the romantic lines, Steve's voice turned into pure butter without, again, sliding into "oh, he's slightly creepy". Both Caroline and I were sold. And he was so gloriously easy to write. It's a well I'd probably return to... a bit too often, maybe? Maric, then Anders in Awakening, and then Alistair kept popping up in future games and the comics because, yes, he was pretty much the breakout comedy character of DA. Which still makes me happy. 😁 CORRECTION: Goldanna was someone Alistair thought was his *sister*, and her mother his mother. Look, it was almost twenty years ago, OK? 😅 --- I actually had a whole scene written in DAI where Fiona tells him, but the requirements were so specific for them both to be in Skyhold and it seemed like it'd be relevant only to a small small sub-section of fans (and confusing to everyone else) so it was dropped. Rightfully so, I guess."

[source thread]

User: "The Buffy vibes were strong in DAO and I was very happy with that at the time. What I loved about DAO was the mix of dark themes entwined with bits of levity. That's how I like my angst. Dark, broody with a side of ha-has and y'all delivered in DAO for sure." David Gaider: "That's a me thing. I like going dark - really dark - and then pairing it with light, comedic moments. It provides peaks and valleys in the tone, and prevents either from becoming overwhelming. Hey if it worked for Shakespeare (alas, poor Yorrick), it can work for DA, right? 😉" [source]

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[1980shorrorfilm]

unadulterated yearning

click!!!

pairing…abby anderson x gn!reader

in which…a cruel patrol somehow brings you and your roommate closer together.

before you read…angst with comfort.

such few words have been spoken between you and abby, despite being in her presence a significant amount of the day— every single day. 

you weren’t sure what you did to warrant the hostility, and why it hasn’t fleeted within the few months of you replacing her prior roommate. you knew she missed him, abby made it abundantly clear she’d rather have manny back, but you knew her despising you ran deeper than just that.

her one-sided frustration was a lot. it hurt when all you did was grace her with overbearing kindness, to simply be mocked by the woman to her friends. her friends; she wouldn’t let you in the group, leaving you isolated and alone.

you wondered if she spoke behind your back, almost hoping that was the case when they’d give you the cold shoulder, like you had done something wrong. you never thought you did. abby made you feel that way, though. 

abby couldn’t seem to find a soft spot for you. all the good things about you, she took issue with, and she would let it be known each time. god forbid you fold a shirt she had thrown on your floor, or decide to do your shared dirty dishes, or open the door for her first. she always found a mistake, a flaw, she searched for it.

you couldn’t win with her. every single try has been a failure, and for some reason, that was a hard thing to accept.

it shouldn’t be— abigail anderson should have no fucking impact on your feelings. but she does, deeply, and right now, as you wake up early for a patrol you originally weren’t scheduled for, all you feel for her is resentment.

it’s entirely her fault, somehow getting her day switched with yours, so you get the shitty shift no one wanted.

you weren’t sure why until you were informed the wlf had some sort of get-together for the holidays, an excuse for a feast and drinks. and you would be excluded from it all, because better you than her, apparently. 

you tried not to mind it, truly, you weren’t a bitch about small things like this. if you were annoyed by every little thing abby had done, you might have given up this sanctuary just to be out of her presence utterly.

it’s simply her entitlement that troubles you, the fucking audacity.

“might wanna put on more gear. pretty cold out there,” her voice calls from the other side of the room, where she’s lying comfortably in bed with a book on her chest, eyeing you getting ready to leave. you scoff. 

“i’m serious,” she dares to add, though her tone lacks sincerity to you, “wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“how thoughtful, abigail.”

she rolls her eyes at the use of her name, a small win for you.

those are the last words you tell her before taking off, leaving abby alone, and feeling alone. it’s odd. she likes when you’re around, to bother you, of course. the cool wind is harsh against the stadium window, a tinge of guilt already hitting her. 

but if she could praise you for anything, it’s how much you can endure. nothing here has been easy for you, and yet you’re still here. she pushes you, and you push back. you’d be fine, might even make it back for the last hour of celebrations, making patrol worth it for the sweet reward at the end of the harsh day.

abby was very wrong.

harsh was a kind word to put for the day you had.

the sun is down by the time you arrive back. you’re freezing and bleeding, having skipped the infirmary out of embarrassment. you didn’t want to be a letdown or a burden, especially if abby were to find out how poorly you performed out there; so you’d pretend today was fine.

at least, until you’re locked away safely in your bedroom. 

once you are, you turn on the light, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t known you were keeping in, leaning against the door just so you could stop walking for a split fucking second. that’s when you feel the throbbing on your thigh, eyes drifting to the now crimson-stained makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around it. 

you don’t have the energy to change it. you don’t even have the energy to change in general, only peeling off your jacket, and picking up whatever grey sweatshirt was thrown on the floor near you. 

you know it’s not yours when you smell the familiar pine scent, the one you associate with abby. 

weirdly, it’s incredibly comforting right now. even if she would scold you to not touch her shit when she got back. you really don’t care. you drag your sore feet to your bed, climbing beneath the covers, clinging to the blanket, begging for warmth that seems to refuse your body.

it’s moments later that you hear the door open.

abby enters, a bit buzzed from the party, tripping on your discarded jacket right away. she mutters beneath her breath, picking the piece of clothing up, and walking toward your bed. when she opens her mouth to speak again, it immediately shuts, and she halts her steps.

her gaze fell on you, huddled under your blanket, body shivering even in your sleep.

there’s a strange tug at her chest— both sympathy and guilt stirring deeply inside of her. you’re curled into yourself like a child, and you appear as innocent as one before her. innocent and in pain. left out from the festivities of the night, alone, out there, to come home, and be alone again. 

maybe it’s the alcohol, but abby feels like she’s suffering with you, simply by watching your body involuntarily shake.

“y/n?” abby calls out your name softly, closing the gap between her and your bed. you don’t stir at first, not until she repeats your name once more, but even then, you hardly acknowledge her. 

you hum, not daring to open your eyes and welcome the light to your corneas. 

“you okay?” abby asks, knowing it’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. you don’t think of it as stupid, though, it might be the kindest thing she’s done, checking in on you…are you dying?

“mhm,” you hum again, “just…cold.”

the words come out in an accidental whisper, unsure if she had even heard you. she does, not even questioning her next decision; she had the urge to help you, one she couldn’t shake off or ignore like in other moments where you could’ve used a hand. this is different. she doesn’t know why, but it is.

it’s just a few seconds later that abby had taken her blanket, the comforting weight of it being draped carefully over your body, abby doing her best to cover your head to toe. 

the long-going tension between you two doesn’t exist at the moment, abby’s sweet gesture becoming the highlight of this stupid fucking day. she had a heart. and she gave a tiny piece of it to you with the blanket. 

“thank you, abby,” your voice is still barely audible, but she catches it, nodding though you couldn’t see her. 

the room fell silent again, and abby wasn’t sure if she should walk away, or keep awkwardly watching you from the edge of your bed. 

she walks away; only after you stop shaking, soft breathing from your sleeping form. she wonders if it is weird she literally watched you sleep, but her concern is overbearing.

abby crawls into her bed, laying her head on her pillow, and shutting her eyes. your face is the last thing on her mind before drifting off, not the first time this has occurred, but the first time acknowledges it’s not due to the loathing she has felt for you. it’s something else.

the next morning, abby wakes up to the sunlight barely filtering through the window, eyes drifting to the lower half of her body. 

her blanket returned, along with yours, an additional warmth that has her dreading the idea of getting up.

especially when she notices you had already left the room, and you weren’t going to be the first face her eyes laid upon…fuck. abby gulps at her thoughts about you. 

these now, suddenly, extremely confusing, thoughts. what is this feeling?

[imaginespazzi]

Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance.  She’d pictured a party, not an event. 

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all. 

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash. 

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out. 

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige. 

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs. 

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs. 

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen. 

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach. 

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake. 

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out. 

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs. 

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway. 

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter. 

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially. 

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen. 

“Where’s Azzi?” 

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava. 

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways. 

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly. 

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized. 

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season. 

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other. 

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back. 

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word. 

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally. 

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her. 

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways. 

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly. 

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly. 

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd. 

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing. 

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen. 

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice. 

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter. 

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up. 

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally. 

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more. 

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes.  “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes. 

“Did it make you smile?” 

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice. 

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try. 

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, “I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice. 

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks. 

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?” 

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be. 

It’s Azzi who speaks first. 

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together. 

***

March 2033 

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back. 

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t. 

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul  that will always belong to the younger woman. 

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season. 

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door. 

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut. 

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?” 

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict. 

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns. 

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction. 

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him. 

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows.. 

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly. 

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head. 

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea. 

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects. 

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically. 

“Katie,” Paige groans. 

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses. 

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends. 

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly. 

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral. 

“All good?” Steph asks. 

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation. 

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality. 

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways. 

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones. 

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them. 

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie. 

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige. 

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname. 

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead. 

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea. 

“I totally would,” Paige teases. 

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze. 

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases. 

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her. 

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi. 

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold. 

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?”  Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs. 

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should. 

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Handle Critique

I’ve got to admit, I wish I was one of those beatific saints that could take critique with a grateful smile. Instead, I am constantly suppressing a horrible little gremlin at the back of my head hissing at anything from legit plot critiques to grammar corrections. I’m well aware I used that comma wrong, GOD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at suppressing that gremlin, but the little bastard is still there. He exists because even though your brain knows critique can help, it also knows you worked damn hard on the thing being critiqued, and goddamnit, isn’t that enough???

Anyway, here are some tips on getting that gremlin to shut the hell up.

It is okay to be upset. You worked really hard on this thing, and now someone’s gone and pointed out all the things that suck about it. You cannot control how you feel about one thing or another, but you can allow yourself to feel that way and let it pass through you. Let your critique partner you’re taking time to reflect on it, and go for a walk. Do something else. Let those feelings pass through you before you get back to the page.

Give yourself time. Don’t feel like you need to correct things right away (unless they are minimal grammar tweaks). Some pieces of feedback might take awhile to sink in, especially when you’ve got a whole novel to wrestle through. Set it aside, think about something else for a week or so, and get back to it when you’ve reset.

Get a second opinion and/or ducky friend. It can be very hard to tell the difference between good and bad feedback sometimes. Someone who means very well could give feedback that just doesn’t work for you, and someone who doesn’t give two shits could have spotted that fatal flaw right away. You can bring in a real third party or just make use of the old rubber duck technique, where you talk through the issue with a friend or a Naruto poster telling you to Believe it. Working it out out-loud is a really effective technique to figure out what needs fixing and what doesn’t.

Guide critique-givers toward the feedback you want. I, a person who prefers straightforward fantasy and sci-fi, cannot give the fine-tooth points on how a romance novel should work. However, I can give feedback on what works for me and what doesn’t story-wise. Giving your beta reader or critique partner a list of questions to look for will help avoid vague feedback based on how they don’t like the genre. There are many ways to do this, but consider using the following as a base to tailor your own questions:

Did you get a good sense of the setting? Did the worldbuilding make sense to you?

Was this story clear? Where there any parts that seemed confusing?

What characters did you like and why? What characters didn’t you like?

Did any parts of the story feel slow or repetitive?

Did the beginning draw you in? Did the middle keep you engaged? Did the ending feel satisfying?

If you were to write [insert plot point here], what would you do differently?

Again, all of the above questions are up for debate depending on your goal, but we are rarely taught how to give good feedback, and a guided feedback session would work better for you than a free-for-all.

Figure out what kind of advice doesn’t work for you. It is really hard to give good feedback sometimes, even with guided questions. It can also be really hard to figure out why some feedback doesn’t click with you, and that’s a matter of digging deep to figure out what you really want. You may lean toward characters who are horrible fuck-ups, but your partner prefers more steady characters who always strive to do the right thing. Your characters, therefore, may never click with this person, no matter how much they want to help you. And that’s okay! Figuring out where your critique partner is coming from can help you figure out what parts of their feedback isn’t working for you. Sometimes the only thing you can do is thank them and move on, but you might also want to guide them to focus more on the plot or the worldbuilding when looking at your work.

And last, don’t focus on grammar. It’s great if they point that out, but if you end up changing everything, trying to fix that first is a waste of your time. Grammar tweaks last, plot points first.

And, I dunno, give yourself a treat to get that horrible little mind gremlin something else to focus on. Sometimes patting those bad feelings on the head and sending them away can help way more than ignoring them.

[ineadhyn]

One of Astarion's most interesting scenes to me is the one in the flop house where we meet Dalyria and Petras. So, obviously, I felt the need to analyze it.

Astarion's behaviour switches the very moment he recognises his siblings. He has been snappy and theatrical before, but this now feels different. More raw. His posture changes, he bends forward in a pose like he's ready to attack. The moment he sees them, he enters fight mode.

And indeed, he does attack. He immediately goes for Petras, aiming for the weak spots he knows, his intelligence. It's bite or be bitten. If he doesn't do it (a choice you can make in his origin run for example) Petras does just the same, insulting Astarion using his known flaws: his arrogance, his egoism, claiming Astarion is all talk. This tells so much about Astarions life with them.

Dalyria is a bit calmer, she seems to care about both of them, at least enough that she doesn't want to see either of them killed. Dalyria does believe Cazador's claim of freeing them at least on surface level. She can be convinced to trust Astarion when he says he'll free them. She wants to be free. Asking why Astarion would come back if he was free, there is a certain longing in her voice. She's also the one telling Astarion about the ritual place, hoping Astarion might actually be able to free them, or at least not kill Petras.

Still the aggression in the room is not only between Astarion and Petras. Astarion also snaps at Dalyria when she's barely said anything. "That's not a way to welcome back a brother, Dal." The three of them are like dogs in the kennels of a dog fighting ring, barking at the sight of each other. Trained to compete and not giving each other an inch. You can imagine what it must have been like sharing one bedroom.

Then Astarion does his theatrical "Didn't you miss me?" Did they? Probably as much as Astarion pities them. A bit, because they've known each other for so long, but not enough to go out of their way. Just after saying he pities them, Astarion dreams about completing the ritual (which includes sacrificing them). Mostly I see the "Didn't you miss me" as Astarion wanting to make a confident first impression on them. Although it's too late, because his first instinct was to pull up his usual defences when interacting with his siblings: snapping at them.

And then Astarion actually gets physically aggressive and burns Petras. This is new. Petras didn't expect this. He says "What the hells happened to you, Astarion?" In combination with the other spawn scene when they call Astarion the runt, that never put up a fight, this paints a clear picture: Astarion has never been physically aggressive during his time with Cazador. Probably because he didn't have the means. He was simply too weak, being tortured more than any of the others. Petras talks about eating rats and dogs, Astarion got rats and bugs (he says that when talking about the bite with Tav). Also of course being broken into submission by being sealed into the tomb for the one time he didn't obey. (Worthy to mention that even then Astarion did not fight, he ran.)

Now that Astarion has some power for the first time, he uses it. And holy damn can I understand why he wants more. How good it must feel to be able to defend himself with more than words for the first time. This bit of power makes him say "I am not afraid of anything anymore."

It's enough for him to say "I am going to stop Cazador." A thing none of the spawn expects of him. Astarion would never rebel against the master. Cazador himself doesn't believe it until his last moment. They were all wrong about Astarion. Cazador indeed never broke him.

Also, pay attention to the leaning forward pose. Astarion does that on multiple occasions. It's his "my instinct screams to fight and defend myself"-pose.

(I am not entirely sure if "do not slouch before me" is also referring the same pose, or if it's more of an instinct to bow or cower. But that's for another day.)

[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader) Part 5

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, Claustrophobia, homophobia mention

Parts;

Part1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

“Why the fuck is Regina in your room? Why are you even speaking to her? Dude! Fucking answer me!”

Janis’s voice is so loud down the tiny phone speaker that it makes it buzz like an annoying little mosquito.

You scowl and resist the creeping urge to hang up, and throw your phone far far away, maybe off a cliff. You click the volume down and try and muffle the sound of Janis ranting down the speaker by shoving the receiver deep into your pocket, but it’s too late.

Regina has already left. Her bedsheets are left thrown back and crumpled, she usually fixes the blankets back to perfection so she clearly left in a hurry.

You grab your jacket with a huff and stomp outside the cabin to stand in your usual smoking spot and light a much needed cigarette before putting the phone up to you ear.

Janis is still yelling, finishing a sentence you didn’t hear the start of. Some accusation about alliances with the enemy.

“Fucking hell, Janis! It’s not that big of a deal!” You finally snap.

The phone goes silent. It’s a welcome break but you know she’ll start up again.

“Yeah sure, my best friend suddenly being pals with Regina George, not a big deal.” She snarks. “Can I just remind you, that bitch nearly ruined my life! Is that why you’re ignoring my calls? Because you’re too busy becoming plastic?”

You sigh. “It’s not like that.”

That’s true. You haven’t been morphed into some sort of Barbie doll all of a sudden just because you spent some time with Regina. To be truthful, you realise Regina isn’t really like that either. She’s a little messy, she’s flawed, but you think she’s more perfect like that. Your face softens slightly at the memory of yesterday, her mascara dripping down her cheeks with a big grin plastered on her face. She wears a fake mask to protect anyone from seeing her real personality. You get it. It’s easier to take a rejection when you haven’t really shown your true identity.

Your heart aches to defend her. To tell Janis to back off, but you can’t. She wouldn’t understand.

“Look, she got roomed with me because she got drunk with Gretchen and Karen on the first night so the teachers wanted to split them up.” You explain as calmly as you can while your blood boils beneath the surface.

“So why didn’t you think to mention this when I called last?” She snaps back. She’s caught you there.

“Because I knew you’d go all revenge-crazed and pissed off like this!” You shout back. You hear Janis scoff.

“Whatever, I don’t give a shit about Regina. She literally means nothing to me! Less than nothing, I just want to see that bitch suffer-“

“Then why can’t you stop talking about her!” As soon as the words leave your mouth you regret them.

“Fuck you, man.” She doesn’t even give you a second before hanging up.

You take a long draw of the cigarette that’s spent most of its time burning away between your fingers. You felt guilty about arguing with Janis, she’d been your best friend since the start of high school, and you could still see the pain that Regina had caused was still playing on her. You didn’t know the full details but you knew that Regina had outed her in a cruel way and made her out to be obsessed just so she could be with a boy. But that was a while ago, people can change.

So why hadn’t you been able to tell her that you liked girls when she hinted at it? You couldn’t even trust her fully.

You couldn’t help your mind wandering to where Regina might be. That seems to be all you can think about recently. Regina. You never fell for her Queen Bee attitude, high school drama was boring to you, you’d rather steer clear of it. But this new, playful, carefree side to her? You couldn’t get enough of.

She’s probably snuck off to meet Gretchen and Karen. You were surprised that she’d actually followed rules for once and not gone to meet them yet. Was it because you had been there with her instead? She said last night that she had enjoyed hanging out with you.

How much of the phone call had she heard before she left?

You light another cigarette. It’s not like you to chain smoke like this but you can’t help it when you’re stressed. The smoke whirls out in front of you, lines of wispy grey entangle and then disappear in-front of your eyes.

You head back inside the cabin when you’re done. Regina still isn’t back.

You lift your bedsheets ready to try unsuccessfully to get some sort of rest and find tiny pieces of paper, shredded on your mattress. It’s the drawing Regina took.

She clearly heard more than she was meant to.

You brush it onto the floor, not bothering to collect the tiny scraps, that felt more like little broken pieces of your soul.

When you finally close your eyes you’re back in the clearing. This time you don’t feel afraid and you automatically start scanning the shadows between the trees. A pair of blue eyes catch yours, as usual, but as soon as you take a step forward,the big cat slinks back into the shadows and disappears.

When you wake up, Regina still isn’t back. Your stomach sinks. She probably won’t want to speak to you ever again, you won’t even get a chance to explain.

You know you have to be up and ready in 20 minutes but you don’t want to get out of bed, or risk bumping into Regina.

It’s pretty hot outside and you’re not sure what the activity will be today so you put on a black tank and some loose khaki trousers. Regina must have been back when you were asleep because her bed is made and her cupboard door is left open.

When you go over to the campfire pit, she is already there. She’s standing around with the usual two girls but she’s also next to Shane Oman.

That makes you nauseous. He’s grinning and so obviously checking Regina out.

She starts running her hand up and down his bicep and over his chest, giggling and leaning into him. He’s loving it and has a hand around her waist. You turn around so you don’t have to look at whatever show they’re putting on.

It feels like she’s doing it just to spite you.

Seeing her that close to him makes your stomach knot with jealousy, it shouldn’t, it’s not like you’re together.

“Okay everyone listen up! Today and tomorrow are the last days of camp, so you will be hiking and setting up your own camp for tonight. This will combine all of the skills you have learnt this week!” There’s a dull chatter of excitement as maps are passed around and people start getting into groups.

You secretly hoped you’d be paired in cabin groups so Regina might actually hear you out and stop being so pissed off. It would get her away from Shane too.

Much to your annoyance, you’re told you have to pair up with Regina, Gretchen, Karen and Shane because apparently it’s unsafe to go alone.

You’d actually rather be eaten by a bear.

Each group is given a tent, you’re given two, the teachers tell you Shane has to stay in one separately but you know that won’t happen. You’re hoping you can just keep that tent for yourself. You’re also given other supplies like cooking utensils, scissors, a mallet, rope etc.

Shane offers to carry both tents in a pitiful attempt to seem strong and manly. Regina plays straight into it and makes a big deal out of grabbing Shane’s hand and feeling his arms.

It makes you roll your eyes. You’re sure you see the corners of Regina’s lips curve in a smirk.

You end up carrying one of the tents anyway, it’s pretty heavy but at least it gives you an excuse to stay at the back of the group, it’s not like you’ll have anything to talk to them about.

Regina walks in-front of you with Karen and Gretchen on one side, and Shane on the other. You’re pretty sure everyone has forgotten your existence, apart from Regina perhaps.

She’s wearing a black crop top and baby pink mini skirt, it makes being behind the group kind of worth it.

After about 2 hours you get to a dead end, there’s a large rock ledge with a few crude dips for you to put your hands and feet to climb up. There are thick shrubs either side to stop anyone going around. This must be what they meant by testing the skills you’d learnt.

Regina goes up first, Shane is standing almost directly underneath her and is grinning to himself. It makes your stomach turn. She climbs up easily, and stands with her arms folded impatiently when she gets to the top.

Shane goes up next, again making a big deal of being so manly, he practically jumps from one step to re other up the ledge. It makes you cringe. He looks more like an ape.

Regina catches your expression and as soon as he’s up she’s all over him again. Is this some sort of punishment? But why would she be trying to make you jealous that way?

You go up last. It’s not too high so you’re not really afraid.

“Don’t fall, loser.” Regina spits and the whole group burst out laughing.

It stings but you ignore it and carry on walking behind them once you reach the top. Whatever she’s trying to do, to get under your skin, to piss you off, you’re not going to give her the satisfaction.

You notice Shane’s hand sneak down from her waist towards her ass and Regina visibly stiffens and moves away slightly.

Soon enough you come to a small opening in the rocks, must be the second challenge. Even from behind you see Regina tense up. It’s just a narrow crawl space that likely pops out quickly on the other side. There’s a wall of rock that seems impossible to climb that looks to go on for a while either side.

Shane goes through first, followed by Gretchen and Karen.

“I’m not fucking doing that.” Regina huffs once it’s just the two of you, raising her hands. “I’ll walk around.”

“It looks like you’ll be walking for a while.” You try and reason, but she’s already started walking.

“I’ll come with you.” You’re not sure why you offer. The suns setting slightly and you don’t like the idea of Regina going alone. Even if it is just a few minutes to walk around the obstacle.

You follow behind in silence as she walks along the rock wall, thinking about all the things you wish you could say. I’m sorry about what Janis said, I don’t agree with her. I like hanging out with you, I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.

You want to reach out and take her hand like she was doing with Shane, especially since now you know how soft she is.

You want to gently cup her face and kiss her, feel her soft lips and be intoxicated by her warm vanilla scent. You want to ask her on a date, maybe go to the movies, take her for a nice dinner, kiss her on the front porch.

All the things she’s probably done, or will do with Shane.

It feels like you’re walking for ages, it’s quite a lot darker than when you started. Regina keeps a quick pace ahead of you. Her face fixed in a permanent scowl.

You finally turn the corner and see the entrance to the small cave.

Nobody is there, they’ve left. How long did it even take you to walk round anyway?

“What the FUCK.” She screams. It’s so loud you swear you see birds scattering off their branches. “What bitches!”

She growls and flops down, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. You can see a glimmer of hurt and confusion in her eyes.

“It’s getting dark. We have one of the tents , we should set up some kind of camp.” You say, dropping the tent bag on the floor.

“Whatever. I’m not helping though.” She huffs. You don’t bother arguing, you can tell she’s hurt and you don’t want to make things worse.

You unzip the tent bag and start pulling out poles. There are no instructions and all of the poles look identical. You start arranging them in a way that sort of resembles a tent, you bend the long metal pole and try to force it into a fabric sleeve of the tent material, you think it’s secure and let go but it pings back up with such a force that the whole structure jumps. You leap back, the metal projectile misses your face by millimetres.

Regina’s watching you with an amused expression. It makes you blush. At least she’s in a better mood.

After about an hour of wrestling with tent fabric and poles, you’ve made a structure. You’re not sure if you can call it a tent, or if it’ll stay up but it provides some cover.

As night draws close it gets significantly colder so you collect some wood and dry grass for a small fire. Luckily you always carry your lighter so it was simple enough to start. Both you and Regina sit opposite sides of the fire, on the floor, the smoke isn’t as thick as the silence between you.

You dig around in your bag, hoping that maybe you packed some supplies from the bag the teachers gave you. The others must have most of the food and cooking equipment.

You did pack one thing

Marshmallows.

You hold the bag up to Regina who giggles and finds two thin sticks for you to roast them on over the fire. Neither of you speak still as you hold the stick, turning it every now and then.

You remember one other thing you packed secretly in your bag, you rifle through again and pull out a small hip flask of vodka and take a swig. With no mixer, the liquid burns all the way down to your stomach, you offer it to Regina who grimaces but takes the flask.

You sit for a while, toasting Marshmallows and passing the hip flask back and forth before one of you is buzzed enough to speak.

“You and Shane make a good couple.” You’re not sure why you even say it, you don’t think that at all. Regina seems tense around him and you’re pretty sure he’s only after one thing.

“I know.” She responds flatly. It’s unconvincing.

You swallow another dreadful mouthful of vodka. It feels like willingly swallowing paint thinner.

“Why did you screw over Janis?”

Her brows furrow, she reaches for the flask and takes a drink. That was definitely the wrong thing to say but the vodka makes words tumble out before your brain has a chance to screen them.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I guess you think I’m a bad person.” She doesn’t meet your gaze and her tone sounds defeated and a little ashamed.

“ I don’t.” You say quickly. “You must have had a reason.”

“Yeah… I did.” She sighs.

You decide not to push it any further.

“Are you looking forward to camp being over?” You decide to try and divert the conversation.

“Not really, there’s not as much pressure here to perform. I don’t like being a bitch you know, it’s just school, it’s survival of the fittest.” She starts “Out here I feel free. I actually miss middle school, I wish I never went to that party, or kissed Janis. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m fake, nobody treats me like an actual person.”

She looks up at the night sky, a small tear running down her cheek, catching the moonlight which makes it look like a diamond.

“Being with you has felt free.”

Your heart skips a beat. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol but you get the courage to go and sit next to her. You gently put your arm around her shoulders and she relaxes into you.

You fit together like a puzzle.

You look up and scan the stars with your eyes and find what you’re looking for. You point up to 3 stars in a row.

“There’s Orion’s Belt. Those 3 stars are several times bigger than the sun, and they burn tens of thousands of times brighter.”

Her gaze falls to where you’re pointing.

“It kind of reminds me of you, Karen and Gretchen.” Regina laughs at this. “You shine brighter than anyone else at the school. I know what you mean about just trying to survive, just try not to burn so bright you burn out. You’re perfect enough as you are.”

She sighs, her hand is on your lap now and you struggle to concentrate on the stars.

“And that one sort of looks like a lion” You point up again, Orion’s Belt is the only one you recognise. Luckily this makes her giggle more.

She lifts her head at the same time you turn. She’s so close you can see the stars reflecting in her eyes. In this moment you realise you have two options.

A look of hesitation crosses her face and she starts to pull away.

You make a sudden, probably stupid decision.

As soon as your lips meet you see stars explode behind your eyelids. Her lips are just as soft as you imagined, it takes a second before she’s kissing you back. Her hands reach up and tangle in your hair. It’s gentle and rough all at the same

You pull away. “ I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-“

She cuts you off with another quick, soft kiss.

“I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.” She says, standing and walking over to the tent which is shockingly still standing.

You’re left, sitting on the ground next to the now dwindling fire, kept warm by the redness in your cheeks. You pull out a cigarette and light it on the smouldering fire.

The star lion in the sky beams down at you.

[wolftarotcrafts]

Hey guys, if you haven't checked out my last future spouse tarot reading, it was about how they look. You can find it here.🤗

Pile One

Hi, pile one for your future spouse's personality. I do see them as a very caring and compassionate person. I see them as a risk-taker and an adventurous person. They are also very ambitious, and they will go after what they want. I see them being hard workers. I will say it because they are ambitious. I see one flaw that they do have is that they may be a little bit of a manipulator in their career. I see they may try and use others to gain an advantage or use others for their own gain. I don't think they do that with ill intent, because I see them as nurturing and compassionate. I see they don't play about their career either. They aren't heartless; they do care, but their career and their goals matter to them greatly. It could be that they use the people that used them or use others that aren't the best people. They could think of it as repaying the favor in a way. I can also see them being a little petty, but again, they do care; they are very nurturing individuals, and they have soft spots. They are kind people, and I see them giving back to the community and to people in need. Your future spouse is a very balanced individual. 

Extra: 1, 10, 22, 222, 1212 Cancer, Aries, Sagittarius, Pisces, March, E, Z, I, V, J, Hardworking, Career, Canada, Asia, birthmark, pursuit, chasing dreams, Overseas, seahorses, traveling, going abroad, sightseeing, hotels, Big Ben, bus, plane, countryside, big city, children, wanting a family. 

Pile Two

Hello pile two! I see that for your future spouse, I see them being an introvert; they may like to spend more time at home than going to parties. I see them being really spiritual and very smart. I see them being very wise, and they give some really great advice. They are really good listeners. I do see that they may have some emotional scars, and I see they have been through something that really hurt them, but I also see that they pushed through. I feel they are very quiet and shy, and above all, they have a safe and calm aura and energy about them. I see them as healers and creative people. I see they take their self-care very seriously. I see they like to spend time alone doing their meditation and hobbies. I see if they are working on something, they will give it their all and put 100% into it. I don't see them being the type of person to half-ass anything.

Extra: 444, Virgo, short, blue eyes, cleansing, love, journal, writing, painting, artwork, novel, reading, solo time, bookworm, swans, body of water, ponds, wish, (pink) flowers, November, Shadowhunters. 

Pile Three

Hey, pile three. I see that your future spouse is very loyal and dependable. If you need them, they are there; no questions asked. If you need help with something, they will help you out as much as they can. For example, if you need money, they will give you the money; if you need a ride, they will drive you. No matter how big or small the task is. Whatever you need, they will help you out. I can see them being very wise people. I do see that they move very fast and can possibly love bomb, but I just think they want to do these nice things because they are really generous, so communicate and talk to them if you feel uncomfortable. I think they move fast without even realizing that they are doing it. I see they really like to experience new things, and they might be bold. I see them liking to dance and try new things.

Extra: 12, 15, 20, 29, H, fire signs, Capricorn, Leo, elegant, classy, funny, smart, USA, South America, Mexico, October, muscular, moving, shake it up, purple, brown hair, straight hair.

I offer tarot readings here like soulmate readings, love readings, career readings, and pendulum readings.

[juuuulez]

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

[rmadridcore]

Beyond the Line

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian enter a friends with benefits arrangement, but as the connection deepens, you struggle to keep your emotions in check.

Word Count: 7.4K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s Note: I’ve had this idea for a while and intended to make it a two part series but I couldn’t stop writing when I started lol 😭 so she’s a long one. Hope you enjoy it, lmk what you think 🤍

There’s a strange kind of pleasure in a bit of toxicity. To a point, at least. It doesn’t always make sense, but sometimes, the undeniable physical chemistry makes sacrificing peace of mind worth it. The fire, the intense connection, can outweigh all the flaws in the relationship.

The way Kylian’s tongue traced your folds made all the buried, unresolved feelings seem worth it. He had his head nestled between your thighs, quite literally his favorite place to be, while your hands gripped his head as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His other hand cupped and massaged your breast with a mix of urgency and affection.

“Kylian, fuck!” you screamed, your toes curling as his tongue worked with relentless speed, flicking and teasing you in a way that made your mind blur with pleasure.

The sounds of his slurping filled the room, shameless and loud, but neither of you cared. His occasional moans vibrated through your body, reminding you that you were indeed still on a bed and not floating on some euphoric cloud. Not that you minded. This euphoria was exactly where you wanted to stay for as long as possible.

Throwing your head back, you let out a whiny moan as his tongue explored your most private parts, licking, teasing, and driving you wild. Wet, hot, and pink — just the way he loved it. His nose pressed roughly against your clit as his fingers curled inside you, reaching those spots that made your toes curl even tighter.

The sounds spilling from your lips were raw and unholy, but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in yourself, and neither could he. In fact, he seemed to thrive on it. His hand moved down from your breast to part your throbbing folds, exposing your sensitive clit even more to his skilled, relentless tongue. You wanted to ask him if anyone had ever told him how magical his tongue was, but the words refused to form. Your mouth was far too busy letting out gasps and cries.

“Please,” you managed to mutter, your voice strained, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure surged through you.

For Kylian, it wasn’t just the taste of you that drove him — it was the sounds you made. The way you screamed his name, whimpered in desperation, and begged for release drove him wild. He lived for it. He craved those sounds just as much as he craved the taste of you. Each moan and breathless gasp only pushed him to dive deeper, his tongue working more feverishly against you, wanting to make you shatter beneath him.

He curled his fingers inside you, pressing against that spot that made your entire body tremble. His tongue stayed focused on your swollen clit, flicking in perfect rhythm, and you could feel the familiar tension building, your body ready to unravel.

“I’m so close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hold on just a little longer,” Kylian mumbled against you, the words muffled but clear, the vibrations from his voice only intensifying the pleasure. “I need you to hold on for me.” He wasn’t ready to let go yet. He wanted to savor every second of this, knowing it might be a while before he could taste you again.

“I can’t, Kylian… I need to cum,” you whimpered, your voice desperate, your body on the edge of release.

Finally, he relented, his voice soft yet commanding. “Let go, beautiful. Come for me.”

That was all it took. His words, combined with the pace of his fingers and tongue, sent you tumbling over the edge, and your body obeyed. Your back arched off the bed, his name tearing from your throat as your body shook with release. Your hands gripped the headboard, desperate for something to hold on to as he licked you through your orgasm, not missing a drop of your pleasure.

Gasping for air, you collapsed back onto the bed, your body feeling light and deliciously weak. Kylian, ever the greedy lover, drank in every last bit of your release like it was his favorite drink — because to him, it was.

You coughed lightly, your throat overworked from all the screaming and grunting. You hadn’t even noticed when Kylian laid next to you, his head propped on his hand as he admired your flushed, blissed-out face.

As you lay there, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment, you felt a mix of bliss and vulnerability wash over you.

Kylian shifted to rest his head on your chest, listening to the rapid beat of your heart. “Can you kiss me now?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped you.

He lifted his head, a faint smile forming on his lips that made your stomach flutter. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, half-amused and half-exasperated. “I just had the best orgasm of my life, and you’re worried about a kiss?” His laughter filled the room, warm and infectious.

“You make a fair point.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, and the kiss felt electric. The taste of you lingered, mingling with the sweetness of the moment. As the kiss deepened, you felt the world fade away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of intimacy.

Kylian pulled back slightly, searching your eyes. “You know, moments like these make all the chaos worthwhile,” he said softly. You nodded, a smile spreading across your face.

“Absolutely. But you do realize you’re lucky I’m still coherent enough to appreciate this moment, right?” Kylian chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll take my victories where I can get them.” There was a pause, and you could see a flicker of something serious in his eyes.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice sincere. “I’m really grateful for you.” The weight of his words settled in the space between you. You had grown so accustomed to the playfulness, the light teasing, that this sudden shift felt scary.

“Kylian,” you began, feeling a swell of emotions. “I—” Before you could finish your sentence, Kylian’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting the moment. You both sighed in unison, a knowing look passing between you.

“Always a distraction,” he muttered, reaching for his phone, but you could see the hint of annoyance in his eyes.

“It’s the team,” He said, you watching as he glanced at the screen.

“Duty calls, huh?” you said with a teasing smile, trying to keep the mood light.

“Unfortunately,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “But don’t worry, I won’t let it take me away from you for long.” He leaned in and gave you another quick kiss before reluctantly sitting up and pulling away.

You watched as he answered the call, his demeanor shifting to the focused, determined athlete you knew he could be.

As he spoke on the phone, you leaned back against the pillows, observing him with a mixture of admiration and affection. The way he transformed from the playful lover to the focused athlete was mesmerizing. It was like watching a switch flip — he was all business now, his voice steady and professional.

He paused to glance back at you, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, as if he were trying to gauge your mood. You flashed him a playful smile to remind him you were still there, even if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” he said, his tone lighter now, as if sensing your amusement.

You shrugged. “Take your time. I’ll just be here, contemplating my life choices.” He chuckled, clearly fighting off a grin.

“I don’t think you need to contemplate anything. You’re the one keeping me grounded.”

“Grounded?” you teased. “I thought I was just a pleasant distraction.”

“You are, but a necessary one,” he replied, winking before returning to his conversation.

When he finally hung up, he flopped back onto the bed beside you, the tension of the call still visible in his shoulders. “Well, that was refreshing,” he said sarcastically.

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Next time, try not to sound so enthusiastic.”

“It’s a tough life, okay?” he replied, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

“You know,” you began, feeling a warmth spread through you as you spoke, “for someone who just dealt with a chaotic work call, you look remarkably unscathed.”

He laughed softly, glancing over at you with a playful smirk. “Well, I do have my charm to rely on.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding your smile.

“Charm? Is that what we’re calling it? More like a mix of sheer talent and good looks.”

“Don’t forget charisma,” he chimed in.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh, please. With that kind of self-promotion, you could start your own fan club.”

“You think I’m not already the president of my own fan club?” He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter.

“You’re my only member, and I’m the only one who attends the meetings.”

“Sounds like a party,” you teased, nudging him again.

As laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Kylian turned serious, his expression softening as he gazed at you.

“Stay tonight.” his voice broke the silence, the words hanging in the air between you like an unspoken promise. A warmth spread through your chest at his invitation. It was no secret that he wanted you to spend the night with him every time you two found yourselves tangled in each other's arms; he just didn’t say it outright all the time. But the way he hesitated, how he seemed to hold back from asking you to stay during those other moments, was painfully obvious.

“I have to pack,” you replied, feeling the disappointment settle in both your hearts.

You did spend the night at his place sometimes. Those cozy, late-night moments where everything felt perfect. But other times, you pulled away, creating space to keep things from becoming too routine. You were cautious, wary of the feelings that might arise if you blurred the lines completely. Tonight, you felt the urge to retreat, to maintain that sense of independence. But also, you really had to pack.

Kylian nodded, trying to mask his disappointment with a soft “Okay.” His tone was casual, but you could see right through him; he was the worst liar when it came to you.

You and Kylian had met a little over a year ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Both of you single, bold, and carefree, it felt like fate had tossed you together for one wild night of fun. That night had sparked a connection that neither of you expected, leading to a heated encounter that was meant to be a one-off. But universe, as it often does, had other plans.

You both bumped into each other again at an event weeks later, and just like that, you found yourselves leaving together, the chemistry undeniable. After that, you met up again — hooking up once more, and then again. It quickly became a whirlwind of intimate moments, and before you knew it, you were trapped in a confusing, exhilarating, and somewhat unhealthy situation.

Neither of you had been looking for anything serious. The idea of adding the complexities of a relationship, emotional entanglements and responsibilities, was daunting. A casual arrangement, marked by good sex whenever the mood struck, was enough for both of you.

You both understood how these things worked. Friends with benefits could turn into a mess of emotions if you weren’t careful. So, from the very start, you had made it a point to set rules. You were both adept at laying down those guidelines, but when it came to following them? That was another story entirely.

The first rule was simple: never spend the night at each other’s places. The routine was supposed to be straightforward: come over, fuck, leave. That worked for the first two months. But then came that one night at Kylian’s house, just after you’d finished with each other.

It was around 1 AM, and the weather decided to show its worst side with a downpour so fierce, it made the idea of driving home seem ridiculous.

“Stay here,” he insisted, not wanting you to risk the storm. You hesitated at first, knowing it was against the rules, but the thought of driving through that weather wasn’t appealing either. He even offered you the guest bedroom, or suggested he sleep there and let you take his bed, but somehow that felt even weirder than just sharing the bed. So, you stayed. That was the night you crossed the first line. After that, spending the night became more frequent. Kylian was always coming up with excuses for you to stay over.

“The wind is crazy tonight.”

“I heard on the radio that driving after 10 PM isn’t safe.”

“My bed is way more comfortable than yours.”

Some excuses were ridiculous, but sometimes, you caved. Other times, you resisted, determined not to let the sleepovers become routine.

The next rule? Never cancel plans for each other. You both agreed that altering your daily lives just to meet up would mean things were getting too serious. A casual fling didn’t need that kind of effort. But Kylian broke that rule after just two weeks, without you even knowing.

He canceled a dinner with friends, just because a single text from you asking if he was free to hang out was enough to make him ditch his plans. You found out the next time he did it, when he skipped playing paddle with his trainer because a night with you seemed more appealing. You were angry, angry that he broke the rule, but he shut you up with a kiss that made the argument melt away.

After one of your usual, passionate sessions, you told him how canceling plans for each other wasn’t good for what you had. He promised he wouldn’t do it again. And, unsurprisingly, he didn’t keep that promise. To be fair, you didn’t either. You found yourself rescheduling a meeting for work, or canceling a shopping day with friends just to be with him. You both bent the rule when it suited you.

Then there was the no-gifts rule. It seemed harmless enough. No exchanging gifts. Too personal, too intimate. But that rule was thrown out the window on your birthday. Kylian surprised you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a stunning necklace. You wanted to be mad, to call him out for breaking the rule, but how could you? He made you so happy, and the thoughtfulness behind his gift warmed your heart more than you cared to admit. So, instead of scolding him, you simply said, “Thank you,” and asked him not to do it again.

But then you broke that rule too. When his birthday came around, you couldn’t resist getting him something. You reasoned with yourself — it was just a birthday, an exception to the rule. But then, Kylian took it further. He came to your house one evening with a piece of artwork he’d purchased, saying, “It reminded me of you.”

That felt too much, too intimate. You argued, trying to convince him to take it back, but after a long discussion, you agreed to keep it — on the condition that he wouldn’t buy you anything like that again. He promised, but deep down, you both knew promises in this arrangement were flimsy at best.

But the most important rule, the one that should have been unbreakable, was not to fall in love. It was the first thing you both made clear: no strings attached meant no feelings. If either of you started to develop emotions beyond the physical, whatever you had would end immediately.

It seemed obvious at the time, the easiest rule to follow. Yet, strangely, it was the one rule you both avoided talking about. You’d discussed all the others, broke them, and argued over them, but the rule about love? That was taboo. Neither of you brought it up. Not once. And that silence was starting to scare you. Because the reason you didn’t talk about it was becoming more obvious. And that realization was growing more terrifying by the day.

You both lay in bed, the silence heavy with the weight of the upcoming separation. Neither of you wanted to move, wishing you could freeze time and stay in that warm, tangled cocoon of sheets. But reality beckoned. You had to leave; your business trip was looming, and tonight was your way of saying a temporary goodbye before you inevitably found yourselves back in the same bed the moment you returned.

Reluctantly, you got up, ignoring the loud, deep sigh that escaped Kylian’s lips. He didn’t say anything, but his frustration was palpable. You gathered your things, slipping into your clothes while he remained on the bed, motionless, watching you with a silent longing.

“You still don’t know when you’ll be back?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence as you put on your shoes.

You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure. I’ll be back once all the new projects are presented to the partners. Could be a week. Maybe two.”

“Or more,” he added, his tone flat, eyes cast down. He wasn’t looking at you, but the unspoken tension between you was clear.

You sighed, trying to keep your voice light but failing. “I don’t know, Kylian. I’d rather stay too, but it’s work. I have to go. It’s not like I have a choice.” You walked over to the bed, standing beside him.

Kylian understood more than most about having a demanding schedule. He knew that you had to leave, that your career required it. But that didn’t make it any easier. It still bothered him — this unknown stretch of time without seeing you. The part that stung the most? He wasn’t allowed to be upset. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t even your friend. He was just the guy you were sleeping with. You didn’t owe him anything. No explanations, no reassurances, no promises. And that bitter realization twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable weight he had to carry in silence.

“I’ll be very busy in the coming days, so…” You trailed off, the familiar excuse slipping from your lips, and Kylian knew exactly what was happening. You always did this when one of you had to travel — distancing yourself, cutting down on communication. He never fully understood why. But, as always, he went along with it, knowing he didn’t have the right to object.

“Sure. Busy,” he replied, his voice flat, resigned. You nodded, a silent understanding passing between you, both knowing there was nothing more to say.

“Thanks for tonight. You always give me the best goodbye gifts,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned down, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning away.

Kylian watched you leave, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing in his mind. You never looked back. You never did.

For the past year, he had felt an undeniable, deep connection with you. Something special, something he couldn’t quite put into words. And with every passing moment, that connection only grew stronger, wrapping around him like invisible chains, pulling him deeper into feelings he had promised himself he’d never have.

Kylian knew it was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, wasn’t supposed to let his emotions blur the lines of your arrangement. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away, even though he knew that’s what he should do.

The truth was, he liked spending time with you — far more than he liked spending time with anyone else. With you, he could be himself, completely. He didn’t have to put on the mask he wore for the world. He could be his silly, carefree self, making jokes and laughing without worrying about expectations. You listened to him, truly listened. You were compassionate, attentive, and never judged him. You offered him a kind of support that he hadn’t realized he needed until it was too late. He liked you. More than he should. And that terrified him.

It didn’t take long for Kylian to realize that his feelings for you went far beyond casual. When he first started sleeping with you, his intentions were simple: have fun, let off some steam, enjoy the company of someone as lovely and attractive as you. But the more he got to know you as a person, the more he craved your presence. It wasn’t just about the sex anymore, even though the sex was incredible. Mind-blowing, even. But sometimes, all he wanted was to sit with you, have a conversation, and just… be. He liked being around you. And that was the problem.

He wasn’t supposed to want more than just physical connection. You weren’t meant to be his confidante, his comfort, his… something more. But the rules were clear. He wasn’t allowed to spend time with you unless one of you was horny. So, he made sure to milk every moment he could, stretching out the time you spent together. He clung to the small, fleeting moments between, lingering in bed just a little longer, turning every touch, every laugh into something he could carry with him when you weren’t around.

And every time you left, he felt the weight of what he wasn’t allowed to have settle deeper in his chest.

The day had been impossibly long, overwhelming, and exhausting. Your flight was a nightmare — an older man seated behind you had snored the entire time, depriving you of any chance to rest. Once you landed, there was no time to recover; you had to change quickly and head straight to a series of meetings. With the barely-there sleep you had gotten the night before, combined with the stress of work, the day felt like one continuous obstacle.

The meeting dragged on for almost three hours, filled with repetitive questions that forced you to repeat yourself over and over. By the time it was over, all you wanted was to collapse into bed. But then your colleague asked for help with some documents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You felt bad, knowing no one else could assist her. So, despite your exhaustion, you pushed through.

Finally, after what felt like an endless day, you made it to your hotel room. The idea of slipping into a warm, bubbly bath was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. Once you submerged yourself in the soothing water, the tension in your muscles slowly began to fade. The pounding headache that had followed you throughout the day finally started to dissipate.

It was in moments like this, quiet, peaceful moments, when you craved Kylian’s presence the most. He had a way of making everything better, almost like a superpower. From the moment you met him, there had been something magnetic about his charisma. One night stands weren’t usually your thing, but fresh off a breakup and in high spirits at that party, you found yourself unable to resist his charm and that disarming, handsome smile.

At first, it was just sex. Fun, uncomplicated, no strings attached. But as the weeks went by, you discovered there was so much more to Kylian than just his natural charisma or his beautiful face. As he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true self — funny, silly, adorable, loud, but in all the best ways. He was someone you wanted to be around all the time. He loved making people laugh, especially you, and his energy was infectious. For all his fame and allure, Kylian was surprisingly simple and humble. A young man with a great sense of humor and an even bigger heart.

Being around him felt effortless. Too effortless. And that was where the danger lay. You liked him more than you should. You liked him more than you were willing to admit, even to yourself. He was far more than a fling to you. You couldn’t help but think about him in moments like this, alone in a quiet hotel room, wishing you were resting on his firm chest, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your forearm like he always did. But those were thoughts you would never dare to share with him.

The fear of commitment was tricky. It often masked itself as self-preservation, convincing you that it was the rational thing to do, the safest option to avoid heartache. But deep down, you knew it was an insecurity, a fear that you would drive Kylian away if you got too close.

Rationally, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, at least not intentionally. But the thought of falling for him, of starting an official relationship, only for him to realize it was a mistake, that he didn’t have time for you, or worse, that he couldn’t love you enough, was terrifying.

So, you did what you thought was necessary. You distanced yourself. You limited the time you spent with him, avoiding the temptation to stay over at his house too often. You tried not to contact him when either of you were away. You set boundaries for yourself, hoping they would protect you from falling deeper into the trap.

But leaving him? That was something you couldn’t do. No matter how unhealthy the situation became, no matter how much it hurt to be stuck in this emotional limbo, you couldn’t bear the thought of Kylian not being a part of your life. So, you settled for what you had. You convinced yourself it was enough, even though deep down, it wasn’t.

And that made you angry. Furious, even. How had you let this happen? What had started as a simple arrangement, had spiraled into something messy, confusing, and undefined. You didn’t even know what to call this… relationship. If you could even call it that.

But more than anything, you were mad at yourself. For wanting more. For feeling something you promised yourself you’d never feel.

The next few days passed in a blur of normalcy, albeit overwhelmed by work. Every time the pressure mounted, stress levels shooting through the roof, it became increasingly tempting to pick up the phone and call Kylian. Not for the usual reasons, where one of you would call the other when traveling to satisfy more physical needs, but simply to hear his voice. To rant about your day, to complain, to let it all out. To have Kylian on the other end, soothing you, telling you that everything would be okay.

The temptation grew harder to resist, but you held out. You had to. This was the boundary you had set for yourself, the one thing that kept you in control.

Until you couldn’t anymore.

It was a Thursday — possibly the worst Thursday in the history of Thursdays. The day began disastrously when you somehow managed to turn off your alarm in your sleep, making you thirty minutes late for your breakfast meeting. And, of course, there was no time to actually have breakfast once you arrived, forcing you to move straight into business on an empty stomach.

You told yourself you’d wait for lunch to eat, but lunch never came. The meeting that was supposed to happen the next day was moved to today, meaning no time for food once again.

Then came the race back to the office, where you had to prepare for a presentation on your latest project. Things seemed to calm down for a moment, just long enough for you to breathe, until someone in the foyer spilled a piping hot cup of coffee all over you. The scalding liquid nearly burned your collarbone and left an awful stain on your white shirt.

With no change of clothes and the presentation about to begin, you had no choice but to stand in front of everyone in a half-white, half-brown shirt, your stomach growling, your mind frazzled, and your nerves hanging by a thread. The awkward stares from your audience only made things worse, and by the end of the day, you felt utterly defeated.

By the time you returned to your hotel room, you had finally eaten something, but the headache and stress still vibrated through every inch of your body.

It was all too much. You needed to let it all out.

No matter how risky or wrong it felt, you needed to call Kylian.

With shaky hands, you dialed his number, one you had memorized long ago from how many times you typed it, only to delete it before pressing "call." This time, though, you pressed it.

Your heart raced as the phone rang, your breath catching in your throat. You had spoken to Kylian over the phone countless times, but this felt different. This time, you weren’t calling for a casual chat or for some playful teasing. You were calling because you needed him. You needed to hear his voice.

And that terrified you.

You stared at the phone screen as it rang, trying to come up with a good excuse for why you were calling him. The line connected, and before you could figure out what to say, Kylian picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, thick with sleep, sounding both confused and concerned. You realized immediately that you had woken him up.

“I’m sorry, Kylian. Were you sleeping?” You glanced at the clock and cringed. It was 2 AM where he was. How had you not noticed that before?

“It’s fine. Really.” His voice softened, brushing away the inconvenience. “Are you okay?” There was a trace of worry now, like he could sense something was off.

You hesitated, feeling guilty for disturbing him. “Wait… how did my call even go through? Don’t you usually put your phone on Do Not Disturb when you sleep?” You remembered him telling you that the first night you stayed over at his place — he always put his phone on DND to ensure his body got the rest it needed.

There was a brief silence on the other end before he spoke. “I have a few contacts that still get through. My parents, my brother, my team, and… well, you. Just in case.” Your breath caught in your throat at his admission.

You wanted to ask why, to dig into why he thought of you as someone important enough to bypass his Do Not Disturb settings. But this wasn’t the time. The conversation was already teetering on the edge of being too vulnerable.

Kylian broke the silence again, his tone laced with concern. “Are you going to answer me? Are you okay?” You blinked, unsure of how to respond.

You had wanted to rant about your day, but now, waking him up like this made you feel selfish.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t call you back tomorrow? You need your sleep. Don’t you have training tomorrow?” You meant it, genuinely feeling guilty for disturbing him.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, but gently. “I don’t care about that. I care about you. Are you okay or not?”

His words hit you like a wave, and suddenly, you were fighting back tears. The tenderness in his voice, the way he prioritized you over his own needs, it tugged at something deep inside you. He was always like this, but hearing it now, in the middle of the night, made you want to cry. It also made you love him more.

No, you weren’t okay. You missed him. You wanted him with you. But you couldn’t say that. So, instead, you started telling him about your day, pouring out all the stress and frustration that had built up since the moment you’d landed.

You told him everything — about how overwhelming the trip had been, how tired you were, how bad today had gone. You described every detail of your nightmare of a Thursday, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion as you talked.

Through it all, Kylian listened patiently. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just hummed softly in response, encouraging you to keep going, making you feel heard in a way no one else could.

When you finally finished, you let out a deep breath, feeling lighter. Somehow, just telling him about your day made everything feel a little less terrible.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kylian said quietly, his voice sincere and full of admiration. The way he said it made your chest tighten with emotion.

“You’re handling so much, and you’re doing it with so much strength. I don’t know how you do it, Y/N.” His words brought tears to your eyes again, and for a moment, it felt like he was right there with you, whispering those words in your ear instead of through a phone.

You wiped at your eyes, overwhelmed by the genuine affection in his voice.

Without thinking, you let the words slip out. “I miss you, Kylian.”

There it was. Raw and unfiltered.

You hadn’t meant to say it, but now that you had, there was no taking it back.

Normally, you would have regretted being so vulnerable with him, afraid it would shift things between you. But this time, there was no regret. Just truth. Kylian’s voice softened even more, dripping with affection.

“Y/N, I miss you too, so much. I can’t wait for you to come back.” His confession hung in the air between you, adding an extra weight to the conversation. But despite the heaviness, his words brought a smile to your face, the kind of smile only he could bring out of you.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. And I’m sorry for waking you up,” you apologized, feeling guilty once more for disrupting his night.

“Don’t apologize. I’d rather talk to you than sleep. You know you can call me anytime.” His words made your heart swell, but the exhaustion from the day was catching up with you now.

“I think it’s time for me to get some sleep,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he replied, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

“Goodnight,” you whispered before hanging up, sinking back onto the mattress.

As you lay there, you felt lighter, like the world had been lifted off your shoulders just from talking to him. But as the quiet settled in, a different kind of pressure began to creep in. What did that conversation mean for the two of you? Was it normal to call your fuck buddy in the middle of the night from another country, just to rant about your day? And for him to be so sweet, so gentle, so… perfect about it?

Probably not. And that scared you.

But despite the fear, one thing was clear — you didn’t regret it. Not even for a second.

Kylian knew when you were coming back. You’d texted him the day before your flight, and from the moment he read that message, he was over the moon. The two weeks without you had been anything but fun. In fact, every time you left, it felt like you took a piece of sunshine with you. To him, you were that — his sunshine. Someone who could brighten even the darkest days. And now, his sunshine was finally coming back.

A few hours after you landed, he sent you a text inviting you over for dinner at his place if you weren’t too tired. You hesitated at first, mostly because he told you it would be a normal, simple dinner — no sexual innuendo. That was the scariest part. He wasn’t just inviting you over for a casual night; this felt different. He was asking you on a date. Your first real date with Kylian.

You sat with your phone for a long moment, unsure. This wasn’t part of the arrangement, wasn’t part of the rules you’d set up for yourselves. But something deep inside you told you not to let fear ruin this moment. So, after a while, you agreed.

When you arrived, he opened the door with a tablecloth casually thrown over his left shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you cooked?” you said after hugging him, eyes wide with disbelief.

He let out a laugh, flashing you that charming grin. “Well, I tried.” There was a mix of pride and nervousness in his voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to brag or apologize.

He led you into the dining room, where the table was set for two. The fork and knife were oddly placed, and you quickly realized he had been the one to set the table.

With a chuckle, you switched the positions of the knife and fork. “You know not everyone’s left-handed, right?” you teased as he walked back in with the meal.

He blinked, then giggled, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.”

You both sat down, the dish looking delicious, but there was a part of you that was still unsure. Kylian noticed you eyeing the plate cautiously.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, frowning when he saw you weren’t making a move to eat.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty for what you were about to say. “Um… Kylian, I really appreciate that you cooked, but… are you sure this won’t give me food poisoning?” You winced, giving him a sheepish look.

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you! Are you saying I’m not a good cook?” He pretended to be offended, his wide eyes full of playful shock.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, shaking your head.

Kylian chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I didn’t cook it.” He grinned sheepishly as you raised a brow in confusion.

“Wait, what?”

“I set the table and everything,” he admitted, “but I didn’t want to be the one responsible for poisoning you, so… I had it delivered.”

You let out a sigh of relief, giggling. Kylian was talented in many things, but you knew that the kitchen was definitely not one of them.

As you both started eating, Kylian filled you in on what he’d been up to while you were away, already knowing the details of your trip from that strange, middle of the night phone call a few days ago. He was animated as he spoke, catching you up on football news, funny moments with his teammates, and little updates from his life.

But even as you laughed and bantered back and forth, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this dinner was different. It wasn’t just two friends with benefits catching up. It was more. And that realization, while thrilling, also scared you.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Kylian said suddenly, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic nervousness. He was playing with the tablecloth, twisting it between his fingers as if trying to distract himself.

The wine you’d been sipping suddenly tasted dull. His words made you feel uneasy, and a knot of tension began forming in your stomach.

He pushed his chair back and moved closer, sitting right next to you. The shift in proximity sent a shiver down your spine. The distance that had been between you while you sat across from each other had felt safe. But now, with his body so close, the air between you felt charged, intimate. No matter how many times you had been physical with Kylian, these moments, the ones that went beyond the physical, always left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his voice softer now, more emotional. “Especially after our phone call the other night.”

Your pulse quickened. That call had crossed a line — one you had been careful not to approach for so long. But strangely, you hadn’t regretted it.

“Y/N, being around you…” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “It just feels right. You make everything feel… right. And I know you feel the same.”

He wasn’t wrong. Being with Kylian felt natural, like you both just fit. There was an ease, a connection that made sense, even if you’d spent so much time trying to ignore it. You knew it, and he knew it too. The problem wasn’t the way you felt about him — it was the fear of letting those feelings lead you somewhere you couldn’t control.

“We’re not the best at communicating, at least not with words,” he continued, his fingers gently twisting a lock of your hair around them. “We’ve both bottled up so much, avoided saying things we should’ve said. But there are some things that don’t need words. Some things you just feel.”

His point was valid, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

“I can feel how much you love being with me. It’s not just about the physical connection. There’s something more between us, and pretending like it isn’t there… it’s been stupid. For both of us.” He exhaled deeply, his voice a little steadier now.

“I want to be with you, Y/N. And not just for sex. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry we have is… incredible. But this? Us? It’s so much more than that.”

Your chest tightened, and you let out a quiet sigh, unsure how to respond. You’d spent so long keeping your feelings at bay, locking them away in a corner of your heart where they couldn’t hurt you. But now, Kylian was bringing them into the light, forcing you to confront everything you had tried so hard to avoid.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes holding yours.

That was the sentence that made you look at him, really look at him. You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the reflection of your own fears mirrored back at you.

“I know you’re holding yourself back. And you’re right. If we do this for real, it could go wrong. It could get messy, complicated. We might end up in a situation that neither of us can fix.” He was saying everything you’d been afraid to admit, everything you had kept hidden.

“But none of those fears outweigh the fact that I want to call you my girlfriend.”

There it was. The label. The thing that terrified you more than anything else.

Labels were strict, limiting, confining. They carried expectations, and expectations could lead to disappointment. Yet somehow, when Kylian said it, when he looked at you with such sincerity, the idea of being in a committed relationship seemed a little less terrifying.

He wasn’t finished. “I want more with you. I want you to stay over without me having to come up with stupid excuses. I want to buy you gifts just to see you smile. I want to cancel plans because I’d rather be with you than with anyone else. I want to plan my life knowing you’ll be a part of it.” His voice was filled with emotion, raw and honest. “And I want to love you. Not just for your body, but for everything that makes you, you.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything it carried. It was a tough moment for you. Every fear, every doubt you had wrestled with for so long was still there, whispering in the back of your mind. But somehow, Kylian made it all seem… easier. His words didn’t make the fears disappear, but they offered a sense of hope you hadn’t expected.

You reached up, cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly, as if savoring the connection.

“You’re right,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I am scared. I’ve been terrified this whole time. But… if there’s anyone I want to face my fears with, it’s you.”

Your words brought a huge smile to his face, a smile so genuine it made your heart swell.

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before pulling you into his chest. You rested your head against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

His heartbeat was fast, matching the rhythm of your own. The irony wasn’t lost on you — you, the one who had insisted on following all the rules, were the one who had broken the most important one. And so had he. You were both rule-breakers now.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care.