#Tips for Finding the Perfect Accountant

[classyrbf]

thinking about classmate!gojo who has no idea that the shy, nerdy girl in his class is secretly a perv who has a massive crush on him and has been trading nudes with him. From the moment you saw him in your lecture, glistening blue eyes and fluffy white hair, you immediately could feel your heart pounding. He was so cute, so handsome, and god his muscles drove you crazy, not to mention his smile. He’s only glanced your way a few times, though, but it wasn’t until you went on your fake account and began sending such lewd pictures of your body to him that he started noticing you. To your surprise, he actually sent one back and from there on out, you chatted every day.

You shouldn’t have been shocked to find out that he had a pretty cock too. Lengthy and thick with a pretty pink tip, just waiting to be sucked and fucked. Everytime you scrolled through your chats, your hands always found a way in your pants, rubbing at your little aching clit. You’d get so worked up, so wet, sending him videos of your dripping pussy, fucking yourself on your fingers just for him. He’d send a video back, jerking his cock, his heavy breathing and soft moans in the background. “God, baby, you have such a pretty pussy, you know that?” He chuckles. And the next morning, you’re both back to being complete strangers. He’s sitting in his seat on the other side of the room, obnoxiously tapping his pencil, completely unaware that you’re fawning over him, getting wet just thinking about him.

Sometimes you even leave class to slip into the bathroom, pulling your skirt up and snapping a picture of your cunt or unbuttoning your shirt to snap a picture of your tits just to hit send to him. And when Gojo gets the notif in class, the professors words going in one ear and out the other while he hides his phone to stare at the pictures you sent, his cock growing hard. And still, he has no idea that it’s you.

gojo: send a video of you playing with yourself for me, yeah?

Without hesitation, you listen. You’re in the bathroom stall, skirt hiked up while you quietly finger your soaked cunt, showing your slicked coated fingers to the camera. And a few minutes later, you walk back into class, watching gojo look down at his phone, trying so hard to pay attention but failing so miserably.

Later that night, Gojo is in his bed, fucking his fist to your pictures and videos, scrolling through your chats and messages, his cock throbbing in hand. “Fuck, I wish I knew what you looked like,” he muttered under his breath, pressing play on a video of you fucking your dildo, your ass bouncing up and down on the silicone. “I could fuck you so much better, baby. Have you screaming, begging, crying for my dick,” he grunted, following your pace. His eyes are fixated on your pussy, drooling over how it grips the toy, your juices dripping down it while your ass jiggles. Just as he’s about to cum, he clicks off your video and presses record, making sure to capture the moment to send to you. “Look at what you fucking do to me,” he rasps, and seconds later he’s cumming all over himself, moaning, grunting, swearing under his breath.

All you can do is smile when you get the video, giggling to yourself. His toned abs flexing underneath the light when he cums, throbbing veins decorating his thick cock. He’s just so perfect to you. A few seconds later he messages you.

gojo: when you gonna let me see your pretty face?

you: you’ve already seen it <3

part 2

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

PROLOGUE ▷ || play next song? summary : You started an OnlyFans to pay rent. Then came Fuck-a-Fan Fridays, one lucky subscriber, one masked hookup, all caught on camera. It’s anonymous. It’s hot. It’s getting you more subscribers. All good right? 'Till it turns out the ones watching you are your classmates and professors.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, reader is kinda... willfully ignorant

A/N : hii this is my first time writing something like this but im SUPER excited. let me know your thoughts who do you think should come first :))

Being broke wasn’t a personality trait, but sweet neptune, it was starting to feel like your entire identity. Third-year cursed techniques major at Jujutsu University? Check. Half-assing your degree with the enthusiasm of a soggy napkin? Also check. Part-time job that paid in existential dread and maybe $11 an hour? Triple check. You were one bounced rent payment away from selling a kidney, and honestly, that kidney was looking pretty damn optional.

So yeah, when the idea of starting an OnlyFans first crossed your brain—mid-scroll on TikTok, wine drunk on a shared bottle of cooking wine with your equally poor friends, and flopped on your shitty single bed—you didn’t laugh it off. You snorted, scoffed, and muttered something bitter, "Bet her rent’s paid," while watching some girl with lip fillers and a Gucci hoodie flaunt her brand-new car, courtesy of her tit pics. You sighed and stared at the water stain on your ceiling like it held the answers.

Then rent day came. Your bank account proudly displayed a majestic $7.24. Your landlord's emails had shifted from "gentle reminder :)" to "we will pursue legal action," and you had a full-blown spiral that ended with you Googling “how to fake your own death” before switching to “how to start an OnlyFans without your mom finding out.”

And somehow—somehow—you were fucking good at it.

Not just good. Thriving.

Turns out all you needed was a ten-dollar ring light, some bargain-bin lingerie that only looked expensive if you angled your body like a Tumblr-era contortionist, and perhaps the illusion that the people that were viewing your content weren't real. You didn’t even show your face. Just your body - though sometimes doing private videos for the right price, some sultry poses, a well-placed pout you’d perfected in the mirror while pretending to be some sort of pornstar bombshell, and boom—you were in business. Real business. Like, able to pay your rent in full and order takeout everyday no sweat.

It escalated fast. One day you’re nervously posting some artsy nudes, the next you’re getting tipped fifty bucks just for answering questions like, “What’s your favorite color (and can you say it while biting your lip)?” You were sitting in your crusty dorm room still, surrounded by your influx of takeout boxes and cursed technique textbooks you hadn’t opened in weeks, realizing you were somehow becoming a one-woman empire.

So naturally, the next step was chaos: livestreaming. You had heard that could bring in thousands in one night - and honestly? You were starting to build up at least a few hundred subscribers.

“Fuck it,” you said, setting up your laptop, adjusting your ring light, and channeling your inner seductress while fighting back a nervous breakdown, ensuring your mask covered your face fully and that your wig covered all your real hair. Your first camgirl stream was a whirlwind. You were shaking, sweating, probably looking one glitch away from buffering into another dimension with your cracked setup - but the chat?

Tips flying. Comments rolling. People calling you a goddess. Practically throwing money at you to get you to do stuff you had (ashamedly) done for free for other men. Another said they’d sell their soul for a moan.

That was the moment you knew.

You’d made it. Well, all things considered atleast.

Rent? Paid. Groceries? Not a single ramen pack in sight anymore, just takeout bags. Your mental health? Still dicey, but at least now you could afford therapy.

What you didn’t know, though, what no part of your clout filled brain could have prepared for - was that some of the top tippers in your chat? The ones dropping money and borderline-feral compliments like... SixEyesOnly: stretch like that and make that noise again and i think i miiiight just send you an extra 100. OfficeAfterHours: Tipped 50. Please buy yourself some food. And wear socks. It's cold out. (For some reason you followed what he said.) EmoWithaBoner: squeeze the toy harder. pretend its my fuckin neck. Yeah. You saw them every damn day. In class. At the cafeteria. In the fucking jujutsu training hall at college. In all honesty you perhaps weren't the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to connecting the dots. Really.

But that disaster? That story comes later. For now, you were just a broke, horny, slightly unhinged college student who had accidentally stumbled into a side hustle that was by all means paying more than anything you could possibly do with a degree.

And baby, business was booming.

[simonz-angel]

sugardaddy simon headcanons please🙏

hii baby yknow i’ve gotchu. please tell me how i did, if i didn’t do it justice just lemme know pretty doll always happy to give it another go!! these are my personal thoughts on sugar!papa simon but yk. now enjoy babydoll, thank you for your lil request!! feel free to request any specifics!

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who becomes your personal little shopper. who shops for you outside of you being with him. grabbing at anything from sleek dresses, to frilly, to lacy lingerie. anything he wants to see you in, he might even have a card copy of your measurements, being sure to get the best size and fit.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who provides you with your own little credit card. he’d found one with a 10k limit and sucked his own damn teeth, perfect. he’s more than happy to be paying it off, he’s almost disappointed you don’t hit your spending limit. but then again, you like to make your big purchases with him.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who sends you $200 with each pretty picture you provide. wether it’s that pretty face, an outfit for approval or the teasing ones, he’s blowing up your bank account. the more suggestive, the more you get. although it’s really just a treat, because you’ve already got more money then him at this point.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who stuffs $100’s in your bra before he leaves. he’d be kissing, sucking at neck, ignoring the sour taste of your perfume. and his thick fingers are digging into the crevice between soft padding and doughy skin, money crinkling as he stuffs your bra full.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who lets you boss him around. ordering him around in stores till he’s practically sweating running around, all the while you sit there pretty waiting for him. rolling your eyes when he takes too long, and when he at least tries to hand the bag over so you can see your most recent purchase, you scold him, “isn’t that like your job?” 🙄

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who bullies you right back with his cock. grabbing at the nape of your neck to keep you face down in the pillow. he loves all your petty treatment, but sometimes he’s gotta tone it down. and his other hand holds tight at your waist, bending you into a deep arch, chest pressed flush to the bedding. “anything else you wanna say to me, bunny?” he laughs, but when your sharp, fresh nails slide against the back of his thighs, and your head twists, you demand. “faster, i have places to be.”

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who gives you ultimate princess treatment. letting you sit your pretty, pussy down onto his face. you bury him practically, riding at his face, grabbing at his short, graying golden hair all while giggling. he lets his hands find home, grabbing and squeezing at your thighs, at your ass, before reaching to pinch at your peachy, nipple. his tongue works hard, but your hips work harder, he’s sure you’ll break his nose soon with the way you jump and grind, but he doesn’t think he’ll mind. 🤷‍♀️

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who keeps a folder of all your pretty vids and pics on his phone. he likes scrolling through them in the office, grabbing at the crotch of his dress pants when they tighten up. it’s cruel the shit you send him, your sweet, small fingers playing with your clit, dipping in to the puddle of slick that accumulates as you play with yourself. and he scrolls, past over the picture of your pretty tits pushed together, before settling on one. you’re perched up onto his pillow, the one he buries his face in as he sleeps. your thick thighs straddled tight around it as you grind your bare pussy up over it. and he’s unbuckling his belt, as you’re pulling at your peaked nipples, bouncing like a little bunny as you work yourself up.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who provides any and everything you like. he’d do anything you ask of him, and so he’s lowering his hand. practically smearing the pretty, pink tip of his cock over the camera lens, and his wrist flicks, jerking himself off. and in the back of the camera you can see his head fall back, his lips crack open in a soft groan. and he sends the video, with a sweet (your fav) text after it. “take you out when i get home?”

hope you enjoyed again baby, i really appreciate the request, feel free to get back to me with your thoughts ❤︎

divider creds - @bernardsbendystraws

[bloomiize]

currently thinking abt gooner/perv!jake and how he cannot keep his hands out of his pants and it’s only getting worse because of you

part one two three

gooner!jake jerks off TOO MUCH. it’s become an issue where even his hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He probs watches whatever porn he can get his filthy hands on; hentai, Twitter clips, pornhub, cam girls, it’s never ending. His roommate is getting tired of hearing the low groans he lets out through the thin walls

gooner!jake probs has a secret stash of his favourite material. All of the girls look and sound eerily similar to someone he knows, you. It’s just a coincidence right?

perv!jake loves thinking about how you would sound under him. Are you loud? Maybe you’re a whimperer? Or maybe you’re shy and would try to hold back, he would change that if you’d let him. He loses his train of thought when you sit across from him and ask him if he’s done the most recent assignment.

perv!jake stares at you while you study, not in a creepy way of course. He just admires your eyes and thinks about how they’d look looking up at him while you sucked his dick. And he just likes your outfit, especially the way it hugs so tightly to your body basically exposing every curve. Oh and he’s just taking glances at your necklace. It’s not his fault that your tits are sitting so perfectly and your nipples are poking through your shirt like they want his mouth on them.

gooner!jake's pants are getting too tight. He excuses himself to the washroom. He's basically rubbing himself through his pants in the locked stall "Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, not yet" he repeats to himself.

gooner!jake goes home after your study session and can’t stop thinking about you. The way you sounded when you said his name, so sweet and perfect. He would do anything just to hear you say it again and again while he’s fucking into your tight pussy. He doesn't even say hi to his roommate on the couch, he goes straight to his room and locks it. His hands are already fumbling with his sweats and he's pulling up a video, the girl in it doesn’t sound like you but it’ll work for now

gooner!jake has been fucking his fist for about two hours. He’s cum at least twice. Or was it three times? He lost count and he can't stop even though its starting to hurt. Hes biting his shirt to help stop the sounds from coming out but that doesn't stop the wet noises that are coming from his dick.

gooner!jake has hit a point where none of the videos and pictures are turning him on. He’s been going through his folder, but none of them are good enough, none of them are you.

gooner!jake found your Instagram account through stalking your mutual friends, and lets out a pathetic whimper when he sees that its public. He scrolls through it, weeping dick still in hand. There's the cutest photo of you next to your friends, harmless, right? You're in a swimsuit, the tiniest bikini, god, it's so small he's losing his mind. Why bother wearing it if you were gonna show him everything?

gooner!jake throws his head back imagining how he'd rip it off. He wouldn't even let you go in public if you wore something like that, not unless you were covered in hickies with his seed dripping down your thigh. You would let him fuck you raw wouldn't you? His poor tip is bright red, begging to release again. He would make you feel so good if you would just let him. He sticks his tongue out hitting the damp air and thinks about how you'd taste. Fuck he could die happy if he could just lick your perfect little pussy.

gooner!jake cums with a devestating groan after three hours of nonstop gooning. He says your name while he finishes and looks at the mess he made. His hand is coated in his own cum and his abs are glistening with sweat. He's careful to pull up his sweats due to how sensitive his cock is. He finally leaves his room and checks his phone to find a message from his roommate.

"Stop being so fucking loud when you’re jerking off. I'm going out until your done. You moan the same girls name every time. just fuck her already."

gooner!jake isn't embarrassed. He and his roommate have done a lot worse together. He thinks about the last four words in his head for the next week "just fuck her already". Maybe, just maybe, he'll find the courage to ask you out and do everything he's thought about.

from bloomiize: OMG MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING AAAAAA i hope u guys like it sorry i got kinda carried away and a little freaky.... mb gang PLS REBLOG AND LMK WHAT U THINK!! thanks for reading ^^

[glowettee]

✧ the elle woods study method: mindset makeover & foundation building ✧

hey lovelies! 💗

omg, i'm literally bursting with excitement to start this transformative series with you all! we're going to dive deep into actually studying like elle woods, and all her study methods. it's going to change your academic life. (while keeping you fabulous, obviously!)

let's start with the most crucial element - the elle woods mindset. you know how elle went from being underestimated at harvard to graduating with honors? that transformation began in her mind, and that's exactly where we're starting too!

the core principles of the elle woods mindset (get ready to take notes!):

unwavering self-belief: elle's iconic "what, like it's hard?" attitude wasn't just cute - it was crucial

authenticity as your superpower: your unique perspective is your strength

resilience through positivity: turning every "you can't" into "watch me"

strategic determination: working smarter, not just harder

maintaining your essence: success shouldn't mean losing yourself

let me break down how to actually build this mindset (because theory without practice is like a perfect outfit without accessories - incomplete!):

mindset foundation building: • start a daily confidence journal (pink, obviously!) • write three daily affirmations • document your wins, no matter how small • reflect on challenges and how you overcame them

goal setting the elle way: • dream big (harvard law big!) • break down major goals into mini-milestones • create realistic timelines • identify potential obstacles and plan solutions • celebrate every achievement (even the tiny ones!)

your personal success toolkit: • a dedicated study planner (color-coded, elle would approve) • positive affirmation cards • vision board (mix academic and personal goals) • progress tracking system • reward system for reaching milestones

practical assignments for this week:

yes, i'm giving you all homework, because what's a lesson without doing homework? <3

mindset makeover tasks: • create your confidence corner (a designated study space that makes you feel powerful) • write your personal academic manifesto • identify and challenge three limiting beliefs • create a morning power routine

organization prep: • get your study essentials (cute but functional!) • set up your planning system • create a semester overview • design your ideal weekly schedule

community building: • find your study buddies (your personal warner hunting club, but for academics!) • join study groups • set up accountability partnerships • create a support system

elle's journey wasn't about memorizing legal terms - it was about believing she belonged in those hallowed halls while wearing her signature pink. you deserve to feel that same confidence in your academic journey. <3

advanced tips for the overachievers (because why not be extra?):

record yourself giving pep talks for tough days

create a study aesthetic that energizes you

develop personal success rituals

build a playlist that makes you feel powerful

photograph your progress for motivation

coming up in this series:

time management secrets

memory techniques that actually work

note-taking methods that slay

exam preparation strategies

self-care routines for academic success

group study dynamics

presentation skills

stress management

celebration strategies

and more of course <3

remember: elle woods didn't just survive harvard - she thrived while being unapologetically herself. that's our goal too! you're not just going to study better; you're going to build an academic approach that celebrates who you are.

homework time (but make it fun):

create your academic vision board

write your semester goals

design your ideal study schedule

set up your success tracking system

prepare your study space

xoxo, mindy

p.s. don't forget to reblog and follow for the complete series! we're building our own little academic sorority here! <3

[becomingthatgirl111]

How to Be That Girl This Summer – Without Burning Out

You’ve probably seen the “That Girl” aesthetic all over your feed—green smoothies, 6 AM workouts, matching sets, and perfectly curated routines. But let’s be real: being That Girl isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about creating a lifestyle that actually makes you feel good—from the inside out.

So this summer, let’s redefine what it means to be That Girl. Here’s your realistic, soul-nourishing guide to becoming your best self this season.

1. Wake Up With Intention, Not Perfection

Forget the 5 AM alarm if it doesn’t serve you. That Girl energy means waking up when it works for you, and using the first 10–20 minutes to set the tone:

• No scrolling.

• Open the windows.

• Stretch, hydrate, and journal a thought or intention for the day.

It’s not about being “productive”—it’s about being present.

2. Eat Like You Love Yourself

Summer is a beautiful time to nourish your body with colorful, whole foods that support your energy and mood. Instead of strict diets or “cleanses,” focus on adding:

• Hydrating fruits like watermelon, cucumber, and berries.

• Mood-boosting fats like avocado, nuts, and olive oil.

• Energizing carbs like quinoa, oats, and sweet potatoes.

And yes—you can absolutely enjoy ice cream or a cold drink on a terrace. Balance is key. That’s what makes it sustainable.

3. Move Every Day (But Listen to Your Body)

You don’t need to do hardcore workouts every day. This summer, try:

• A quick full-body circuit at home or the gym (20–30 mins).

• Morning Pilates or yoga in the park.

• Evening walks with a podcast or barefoot beach walks.

Try this idea: Pick a movement mood for each day of the week—“Stretchy Sunday”, “That Girl Friday”, “Walk & Podcast Thursday”. Make it fun and intuitive.

4. Romanticize the Little Things

Here’s a habit not every creator tells you: turn the ordinary into something beautiful.

• Use the nice glass for your iced coffee.

• Read in the sun with your favorite playlist in the background.

• Plan a “solo date” to a bookstore, museum, or your local café.

• Keep a summer joy list and try to check off one small joy per day.

5. Protect Your Energy Online & Offline

Being That Girl means being conscious of what you consume—not just food, but content, conversations, and environments.

• Unfollow accounts that drain or pressure you.

• Say no to plans that don’t align with your peace.

• Curate a digital space that inspires growth, not comparison.

Your mental wellness is sacred. Protect it like your favorite lip balm in the heat. 😌

6. Summer Self-Care Rituals You’ll Actually Stick To

Create your own seasonal self-care menu. Here are ideas:

• Aloe vera face masks after a sunny day

• Journaling with iced tea on your balcony

• A 5-minute gratitude list at sunset

• Weekly “check-in” walks without your phone

The goal? Make it easy, soft, and realistic. Let summer be a time of reset, not pressure.

Let’s Make This That Girl Summer the Healthiest One Yet

You don’t need to do what everyone else is doing. You just need to find what feels good, true, and energizing for you. Build small habits you actually enjoy. Choose joy. Hydrate. Move. Laugh. Let this summer be soft, slow, strong, and full of soul.

Would you follow a page where I post all my wellness guides, routines, and exclusive content off social media? I’ve been thinking about building a full platform just for us—with organized tips, printables, and even challenges. Let me know in the comments or send me a message if that’s something you’d love to see!

Let me know in the comments:

✨What’s one habit you’re focusing on this summer?

Or…

🍓Would you like a printable That Girl Summer Checklist?

[rafesteddy]

+18 -> smut | getting your nails done + rafe enjoying the way you leave scratches on his back/shamelessly showing them off in the locker room

𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝔂!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝔀𝓪𝓰!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: jealousy, ownership, swearing, pet names, scratching, marking, sucking fingers, fingering, massage, sexting, exchanging nudes, *cross-posted on my NHL account*

1.7K

⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ at the nail salon

You look up at the TV, watching as the camera pans across the ice, and then, as expected, the focus shifts to Rafe. He steps off the ice, his damp fringe falling across his forehead as he bites and slides off his glove, breathing heavily.

The stunning reporter steps forward with her microphone, her smile practically gleaming under the bright arena lights. “You’re going for the big win tonight. How’s the energy in the locker room?” Her voice is sticky-sweet. She tilts her head when she looks at him, her interest in the handsome Defenseman bleeding through her thin veil of professionalism.

Rafe, to his credit, is polite but unmoved. “Energy’s good,” he says, his tone cool, efficient. “We’re focused.”

“And if you guys pull off the win, any big plans to celebrate?” Her lashes flutter as her body angles toward him more, hoping for a little extra charm.

Rafe gives her a small, polite smile. “The usual,” he says simply.

The reporter blinks, clearly hoping for more. “Well there’s a lot to do in Vegas. The usual? Do you have something you usually do when you’re here?” She prompts, laughing lightly.“Just hanging out with my girl.”

⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ back at the hotel

Rafe had just finished showering, his hair curling at the ends as he walks over, already reaching for your hands. “Lemme see,” he murmurs, taking your fingers in his own. He turns them over, inspecting your fresh set like it’s the prettiest thing in the world. “Pink? I love it.”

“It’s the color–”

“Of my tip?” He chuckles, putting two and two together.

“How did you know that?” You tease as you run your hands down his strong chest.

“Well I’ve looked at it a few times, princess,” he rasps, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Approved?”

“Definitely,” he mumbles, and like clockwork, he starts rolling out his neck and his shoulders, wincing in pain. You raise your brow at him, trying not to laugh at his predictability.

“Yeah, baby?”

Rafe just shrugs, feigning innocence. “You know how it goes,” he says through a boyish smile.

“Mhmm…” You hum, reaching for the hem of his shirt, helping him out of it as always.

Rafe’s skin is still warm from the shower, his tight muscles melting already from the slightest touch from you. As soon as he hits the hotel bed he lets out a deep, contented sigh, lazily sprawling out on his stomach.

His beautiful blue eyes follow you as you crawl onto the bed; his smile spreads wider as you move closer and closer until you’re climbing on, running your fingers down his strong back, watching as goosebumps spread across his dewy skin. Rafe shivers, letting out a groan that sends heat coursing through you.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans at the slightest touch.

“You’re so easy,” you tease, dragging my nails over his broad shoulders before pressing them into the tight knots you knew you’d find.

“Shittt,” he chuckles, exhaling sharply as you nail that perfect spot, working out the tension. “Feels so fucking good, pretty,” he mutters, voice muffled against the plush comforter.

You let your finger drift into his damp hair, scratching your manicured fingers against his scalp. “Fuck me,” he groans, turning his heavy head slightly, eyes half-lidded. “I love when you get your nails done,” he murmurs, voice drowsy, utterly relaxed beneath your touch as he lets out a little yawn.

You smile as you twirl your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he sighs, letting his heavy eyes fall closed. “Shit, princess, they’re kinda sharp. You should keep ‘em like this forever.”

Leaning down to press a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling his slow, leveled pulse thump under your lips. “I’ll think about it.”

Rafe hums in reply, already halfway asleep, completely at peace. “Gotta keep me up, princess,” he huffs. “I’m gonna pass the fuck out.”

You press your nails a little harder into his back, making his muscles tense for a second before he softens into the mattress. “Too much?” You ask, pausing slightly.

“No–No, keep goin’,” he murmurs, voice rough with contentment. “S’perfect.”

You smile as you watch the faint red marks appear where your nails drug down, the contrast between his skin and the marks leaving you oddly satisfied. Your mind drifts for a moment as you glance up at the TV, watching some highlights from the last King’s game, before the camera throws back to the reporter from this morning.

The interview from earlier plays again on mute—and the way she’s leaning in is just a little too much; the way she practically preened when Rafe gave her the slightest smile boiling your blood.

Would she try again after the game tonight? Probably.

“Fuck,” Rafe hisses as you find yourself so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize how hard you had dug into his skin until it had already happened.

“Oh, shit–” You gasp, but Rafe just laughs, shifting slightly underneath you as he cranks his neck a little more to look back at you.

“Don’t stop,” he assures, his voice dazed out but amused nonetheless.

You chuckle and shake your head, letting your nails trail more deliberately over his tight skin. Your pointer finger traces from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, following the place where CAMERON usually sits on gameday.

You scratch your nails into his skin–digging your initials in–watching as they shift red. Rafe lets out a deep, knowing laugh, his voice vibrating through his chest. “I know what you’re doing, baby,” he bullies.

You giggle breathily, leaning down until your lips brush against the shell of his ear, tits pressed against him. “I got a little jealous today,” you admit.

“Really?” He drags out the word, completely aware.

“Yeah,” you whisper against his hot skin, trailing soft kisses down his neck. Your fingers continue to work the muscles in his shoulders, kneading out the tension as your mouth moves lower. You hit the perfect spot, sitting right above where you know the collar of his sweater will sit.

He doesn’t stop you, instead slithering his hand behind his back, slipping under the band of your shorts and panties, finding your clit.

You suck down on his neck as he rolls his fingers on top of your sex, groaning when he feels just how wet you are; knowing this close to the game time, he’ll have to wait to sink his thick dick deep, but he loves to tease.

“Roll over,” you whisper, watching as Rafe obeys without hesitation. His fingers find you fast, slipping your little shorts to the side this time. Rafe dips the tip of his thick finger in your soaked hole, his pretty blue eyes rolling back at the feeling of your body, so warm and wet.

You tilt in, pressing your lips to his, slow and deep, savoring how he quickly wraps his other arm around you, pulling you in.

He sighs against your lips, his fingers pushing deep, soaking his digits with your essence. “I don’t know why I do this to myself,” he chuckles as he continues to torment himself with the thought of ruining you before his game.

“All night long?”

“All night long, princess.”

You pull back, resting your hands on his firm chest. Rafe looks up at you as you trace your fingers higher, circling the hickey forming on his neck.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low and rough, “you always tease me for liking to mark you up…”

“Because you do,” you giggle breathily as you watch a smirk spread on his kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah, I do. And now you’re over here claiming me like you’re all kinds of territorial or somethin’.”

“I am,” you smile.

Rafe chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I love it when you wear my jersey,” he murmurs, one hand drifting up your back again. “You think it’s just because I like how you look in it, but nah… I love marking you, too. Anyway, I can.”

His fingers slid down your arm, slow and deliberate, before reaching your hand. He lifts your hand, pressing soft kisses on your fingers, slipping your middle and ring fingers in his mouth as he looks up at you.

“I’m gonna put a ring on this finger on day,” he murmurs, his voice warm and confident. “Mark you up some more.” 

⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ after the game

Rafe steps closer to his stall, pulling off his jersey, aware–more than usual—as the cameras linger. He peels off his compression shirt, dragging it over his head slowly and deliberately. The cool air hits his skin as he drops the fabric to the bench beside him before turning around fast–thin, perfect lines left behind by your nails shamelessly shown.

He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling at something someone said before tossing a wink their way; one of the players in the locker room no doubt saying some shit about it already. The second the red light on the camera cuts and the reporter and crew leaves, the chirping starts.

“Jesus, Rafey,” one of the guys laughs. “You get in a fight we didn’t see?”

Another voice chimes in, laughing. “Nah, those aren’t from the game, boys.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, reaching for a towel as another teammate whistles low. “And the hickey?”

“Enough, Rafe,” mumbles smugly.

“Blushing like a slut, bud.”

The dressing room erupts in laughter and groans, somewhere between teasing and outright jealousy.

“Settle down, aight?” Rafe laughs.

“The placement—someone sending a message?” Kelce adds as he gives him a knowing glance. Rafe smiles, shaking his head as he wipes his face, trying to hide it. “He fuckin’ loves it—”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Rafe mutters, but he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even bother because Kelce’s right. He fuckin’ loves it.

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @matthewssweetheart | @slut-4-rafey | @blair-bears-blog | @iikximii | @akobx | @gri959 | @misatxox | @ch4rrykisses | @st8rkey | @laniirackssss | @barnesboo1967 | @justdamnpeachy | @dylsdaily | @rafesapprentice | @angellocket | @my-name-is-baby | @wtfisastiles | @skye-44 @romaescapes | @anothershorthuman | @rafeslovergirly | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @v3n1ce-bxtch | @maybankslover | @theater-bitch | @frankoceanluvr11 | @rcameronlova1 | @lhhlver | @yourmomdotcom42069 | @cameronsprincess | @kdoll-7 | @angelicameron | @imsiriuslyreal | @alphabetically-deranged | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @hyperfixationgirl | @faephoria | @wtfdudesblog | @rafesdoll | @yasmin-oviedo | @lizzysmith110 | @ietss | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @lilithblackkk | @premiumshitt | @littlelamy | @dulcescorderitas | @prettybabyyyy | @star017 | @hannieskzzz | @biascriptum

[inloveinsickness]

❝ HUSH ❞ — sakusa kiyoomi

cw. f!reader, fluff, olympics au, athletic trainer!reader, timeskip characters, established relationship, secret marriage, language (omi swears like once), not beta read (sorry!) word count. ~ 1.6k

“japan’s outside hitter sakusa kiyoomi and newly revealed wife, athletic trainer y/n l/n, steals the spotlight in the city of love!”

@tetzoro's summer olympics collab

your eyes glance in his direction, letting it linger on his figure as the team settles down into their corner. he’s a little tense, understandably so– it’s his first time at the olympics, and with the pressure of the finals sitting on his shoulders, the nerves are showing, though carefully hidden behind his standard resting face that you can see through so well. the lights hanging along the ceilings of the south paris arena cast a tasteful warm glow along the contours of his face. despite the subconscious clenched jaw and slightly downturned lips that make you want to kiss the frown off so badly, there’s a shine in his eyes like no other.

the last few days have been pretty rough, of stiff beds, subpar food and sleeping without kiyoomi. you know he feels the same if the progressively increasing frequency of late night calls and texts are any indication. with the boys sharing rooms in twos amongst themselves and the rest of the team’s staff being housed in a separate wing of the building, falling asleep in his arms was a faraway thought since you arrived at the olympic village.

loml ♡ : miya snores so fuckin’ loudly i can’t handle this me : well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dealt with it baby loml ♡ : i still think we should’ve fought harder for us sharing a room

he drifts off into slumber easily after washing up and getting his fill of talking to you (never enough), the mental and physical fatigue of matches and practices in between taking a toll on his body, but for you, being wrapped in his warm embrace was the perfect recipe and vital to a good night's sleep. it’s safe to say that you haven’t been sleeping well for the past week.

it didn’t help that being sworn to secrecy about your relationship also meant that any interactions you had with him outside being the team’s athletic trainer was like treading on eggshells. it feels like you’re in high school again, sitting next to him in the dining hall during meal times with your clasped hands hidden under the table from watchful eyes, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand or squeezing ever so often, as if to affirm his presence and silently reassure that i’m here.

it seems to be a trend lately for athletes to be active on their social media platforms, be it their team’s or just a personal account, recounting stories or even taking avid viewers through “a day in the life of an olympic athlete” — without looking too far, even miya jumped on the bandwagon, often seeing suna running around filming short clips of their shenanigans in free pockets of time during the day. you and kiyoomi talked about it before the season began, keeping any non-professional interactions to a minimum. there’s eyes everywhere and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

both of you are very private people, it was only natural that you preferred to keep your personal life and matters to yourselves behind closed doors. this ended up being a double-edged sword, because everyone wants to be all up in your business, especially kiyoomi who finds himself in the spotlight more often, being apart of the “young handsome eligible bachelors” of the MSBY 4 and now one of the most sought-after new additions to japan’s national team.

you on the other hand, were better known by twitter as “the pretty trainer” from the shweiden adlers and now the national team, standing next to another fan-favourite, iwaizumi hajime. thankfully your role is kept more so behind the scenes, checking on the players during games and making sure they remain in tip-top shape on and off the court.

being the quiet and brooding one amongst outgoing chatterboxes meant that the media would try to dig any information out of kiyoomi, but prying interviewers and prodding questions towards him and his love life were smoothly deflected and brushed aside, the boys even coming to his defense if anyone got too pushy with it, which you were beyond thankful for. not that they needed to most of the time, he’s known to be curt with his responses and quick to bring the topic back to the game, and no one likes a snappy sakusa anyway, many have learned this the hard way.

just months prior to the both of you getting called in to begin training for the olympics and before schedules start to pick up, you had a small private wedding in your hometown with just close friends and family, the ceremony kept under lock and key and tucked away from the public eye. it made it all the more intimate, more like a quiet gathering to celebrate your union than a grand spectacle, which suited you perfectly. the honeymoon hasn’t happened yet with the timing of everything, you’re saving it for post-season when you both can finally take a break and relax for a little while.

you won’t deny that there are some days where you wished that things were different, and that you could openly express your love for each other without scrutiny and attention being on you, but alas, that is to be expected as someone exposed to the public eye.

the olympics is your first public appearance as married individuals, not that anyone particularly cares about your status, their eyes instead zeroing in on kiyoomi and the chain around his neck carrying a shiny new silver band. it's safe to say that judging by the scowl on his face and the chatter buzzing around the front rows of stands as the team settles into their side of the court, his “mystery wife" is the new talk of the town.

when he comes over to you during timeout, his eyes meet yours bashfully as you hand him a bottle, fingers brushing against yours in an unspoken apology. you just smile and lightly pat his back as he turns to join the team huddle. there’s nothing to be sorry for, silly.

these little moments mean everything to you, even though it looks like nothing in the grand scheme of things. just being there with him and coming together with a shared passion even if it's in different fields of the broader spectrum of sport, fills you with a sense of happiness and content. watching him in his element and being able to support him on the sidelines through it all, you'd never trade that for the world.

and as you’re sitting at the edge of your seat with your bum hanging on for dear life, you lean forward with your hands pressed together, the top of your index fingers resting against the tip of your nose like a pseudo prayer. match point.

it feels like you’re watching the longest rally of your life and like a bad habit, your knee begins bouncing up and down in your nervousness and anticipation. iwaizumi too, is so engrossed in the play at hand that he doesn’t notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough in this moment to stop you with his usual slap to your thigh and a chiding comment, “stop it, even my grandma back in sendai can feel the tremours from your goddamn knees.”

with bated breath, you watch kageyama tosses one beautiful arc of a set to kiyoomi as he leaps into the air and makes contact with the ball.

with a powerful spike, he is a force to be reckoned with, sending the ball home as the opponents dive to save it, their arms hands and fingers stretching out in a last ditch attempt to connect and rescue the point, but to no avail. the ball lands with a harsh thud and as he stands tall above their groveling, the whistle blows and the crowds roar.

your arms instinctively raise in a cheer, and in the next moment they’re closed over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you stumble over your feet and scramble to get up. as the team rushes towards him with shouts of celebration, his eyes immediately dart in your direction, softening as he sees you dashing over. with knowing smirks and crescent moons for eyes, the boys follow his line of sight and give him firm slaps on the back, parting the hoard for you and giving just enough room for him to uncharacteristically swoop you up in his arms and crash his lips into yours, all caution thrown to the wind.

all the noise halts and time stands still, everything fades away and nothing else in the world matters in the moment, not the people, not the cameras, just the overwhelming rush of joy and pride, and love, oh love, swelling from the depths of your chest and your heart bursting at its seams.

your senses flood with everything kiyoomi, from the way the sweaty strands of his hair at the back of his neck feel on your fingertips, his cheeks dampening from your tears, the nudge of his nose against yours, and the press of his smile on your locked lips. he breathes out and you breathe him in, letting all of his being rest in the room in your heart saved specially for him, seeping into every corner of your soul.

when you inevitably pull apart for air, the current predicament doesn't exactly click in your mind just yet until he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of reporters and press looking to get a fresh scoop on the hottest piece of news. with blown out eyes, you look at him in a daze and disbelief, did that really just happen?

the smug smirk on his face says it all.

the matching silver bands on your finger and hanging around his neck, it was always there. for the longest time it was your little secret, and now a declaration of love and devotion — not even a shiny new gold medal could compare.

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[fuddaroundandgetbueckets]

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: Sexual content, swearing

WC: ~10k

A/N: And with that, A Long Time Coming is finished. To think I made this Tumblr account on a whim a few weeks ago and randomly decided to post chapter 1. If you made it this far, congrats! You’ve read 225 pages of Pazzi love via my words. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who read and dealt with my slow updating and loved it anyway :) Hopefully ya stick around for A Thin Line and love it just as much. Kisses and hugs to the lovers of love club <3

A Long Time Coming Part 14 – A Long Time Coming

Fall – 2022

Paige woke to a poke in her right cheek. The other was smushed so hard into her pillow her eye was going to potentially start concaving.

“Is she breathing?”

She heard the sound of feet shuffling closer.

“She’s drooling.”

This time, a harder poke to her cheek.

“Dead people can drool, I think.”

Smack.

“How did you make it this far?”

A huff. “You’re being a bitch and our dead friend is right there?”

Paige finally peaked her right eye open. Her vision was blurry from sleep and her less-than-perfect eyesight, but she could still make out the tall figures looming over her as she laid in bed: Nika and Aaliyah.

“What?” she asked flatly, feeling irritated at being woken up. God, she didn’t even know what time it was. From the way Nika loved to sleep in and ardently fought anyone for waking her up earlier than she needed to be, she would guess it was sometime in the late morning.

“She lives!” Nika exclaimed, reaching over to shake her shoulders from above her purple comforter. Paige let herself be rocked back and forth, her lips in a flat line.

“You had us worried, dude,” Aalyiah said, tussling the top of Paige’s already haphazard bun.

Paige let out a ‘hmph’ as Nika continued shaking her. She didn’t have the energy to shove her off.

Nika finally stepped away, planting her hands on her hips and raising her brows accusingly at Paige. “Are you and your lover fighting?”

Paige sat up in bed, drawing her knees to her chest and pursing her lips in annoyance. Yes, she was fighting with Azzi. “No.”

“Then why did you fall asleep to Marvin’s Room last night?” Nika asked dryly.

Paige frowned, feeling her cheeks start to warm. “It’s a good song.”

“Good enough to listen to fifty times in a row?” Aaliyah snorted.

Paige’s mouth opened and closed as she stared at the pair who looked at her knowingly. After a few moments, she let out a frustrated breath between her lips, looking pointedly at Aaliyah. “You don’t even live here, how would you know that?”

Aaliyah gestured wordlessly towards Nika, who was obliviously wiping dust off Paige’s desk.

“When was the last time you cleaned your room?” She asked, unsuccessfully hiding her disgust at its state.

Paige looked around her room, her neck still stiff from sleep. She was typically a very clean and organized person, but someone seeing her space for the first time in its current state would think the complete opposite. Clothes were scattered across the floor, half-eaten Chick Fil-A tipped concernedly off the edge of her nightstand, and even her iPad laid on the ground with an unfinished game of Candy Crush flashing upwards. Her room was a perfect representation of her current state of mind – a mess.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes tiredly. “What do you guys want?”

Feeling the dip of her mattress, Nika and Aaliyah squeezed themselves on her right and left sides until Paige’s shoulders were bunched up near her ears. Again, she was too tired to reprimand them into giving her space.

“Az has been sad too,” Aaliyah said, her voice softer than usual.

Paige’s eyes opened at that; her focus finding itself on the framed photo of her and Azzi that lived on her desk. It was from a few years ago, when Azzi had visited her in Montana while Paige was staying with her mom. She was so happy to see Azzi then, she had nearly cried. Paige felt her eyes start to water slightly.

“How is she?” Paige asked, not attempting to sound nonchalant in the way she normally would.

Aaliyah knocked her shoulder against Paige’s. “She misses you. She’s brought you up at least a hundred times.”

Paige’s lips quirked at that, though her eyes remained focused on the picture frame. She let out a long sigh, and I miss her too echoing in her brain.

“Are you guys just not on the same page or something?” Nika asked, picking lint off Paige’s t-shirt sleeve.

Paige nodded, her expression turning solemn. She ran a hand down her face, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and pointer finger. “We’re just having a hard time understanding each other right now. Not really used to that.”

The three girls sat quietly for a moment before Paige spoke again, her chin dropping to her knees as she wrapped her arms around her legs. “Azzi needs space to process things. She’s always been like this. If I push her, she’ll shut down,” she sighed, “But being away from her actually makes me feel kind of sick.”

Aaliyah let out a low whistle.

“Man,” Paige felt her eyeing her profile. “You love her.”

Paige’s eyes remained on the picture frame as she shrugged. “Yeah.”

I do, she thought. I really do.

As her chest ached, she missed the way Nika and Aaliyah’s eyes connected over her head. They simultaneously knocked their shoulders into Paige’s, eliciting a small smile from her to let them know she was alright. Well, that she would be alright.

“She’ll come around, P. You guys always find each other,” Nika reassured her, sounding confident.

Paige nodded, knowing what she was saying was true. Regardless of this, her brain and her heart were pitted against each other during the last few days that she hadn’t spoken with Azzi. Her heart seemed to stutter, seize even, at the mere thought of Azzi being sad over her or finding solace without her, with someone else. Every moment without each other since longer than most, making Paige want to sleep her days away until all was resolved. She struggled the most with the fact that the situation felt almost entirely out of her control; she was somewhere between too far away and too in deep while she waited. Waited for Azzi to come back to her.

She had seen fleeting glimpses of Azzi in the last few days, which was by design. They were unable to avoid each other due to practice and team activities, and Paige felt like every time she caught sight of the ghost of one of Azzi’s dimples, she would have a nervous breakdown. Her fists were permanently clenched, fighting the urge to reach for her and tug a loose curl behind her ear like she’d grown used to. She had to stand opposite of wherever Azzi was, because even the smell of her familiar vanilla shampoo was a reminder of everything Paige wanted that she couldn’t have. That she didn’t know if Azzi wanted back.

She missed her. She craved her.

She loved her.

She loved her so much that in the quiet of her room next to her closest friends, she felt hollow inside because Azzi wasn’t there.

“In the meantime,” Nika clapped her hands together, turning to Paige with a tentative smile, “Let’s clean your room and brush your hair, yeah?”

Although she didn’t feel it, Paige gave a small smile back, grateful to have them here to help her when she didn’t want to help herself.

Nika and Aaliyah moved, dragging Paige out of bed by her hands. Nika fished for a sports bra and basketball shorts in her dresser to replace the loose boxers Paige had worn to bed (for the last two nights in a row), while Aaliyah promptly threw away the remnants of Paige’s chicken sandwich in the kitchen, returning with Paige’s hairbrush from her bathroom.

After she had changed, Aaliyah pushed her lightly to sit on her bed while gently brushing out the knots that had accumulated in Paige’s unwashed hair. Paige sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, her eyes closing at the soft scrape of the brush on her scalp while Nika hummed as she folded her clothes that were previously on the ground.

In the tenderness of the moment, she was beginning to feel emotional. Without her consent, Paige started crying.

“Hey,” Aaliyah noticed first, her brushing coming to a halt as she looked at her with concern. “You’re fine, P. Cry it out.”

Paige swiped under her eyes rapidly, sniffing and blowing air towards the ceiling. “I feel so stupid,” she laughed wetly towards the ceiling. “I know we’ll be fine, because it’s us. But it’s not fine right now, and I can’t do anything about it. What if I screwed everything up by kissing her?”

Nika gasped dramatically, continuing to fold Paige’s clothes. “Don’t talk like that! You did not screw anything up by kissing her, Paige. It was always going to happen. You don’t even know what we, your friends, see when you two are together. Honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Aaliyah nodded, “It was a long time coming, seriously. We knew the second Azzi joined us for summer sessions last year that you two were something more. Hell, we knew when we were all Freshmen and Azzi was still in High School. The way you two talked constantly and about each other was something else.”

Nika smiled knowingly, folding one of Paige’s crewnecks. “It’s always been you two, and Azzi knows that. She’s just as scared as you.” She paused, throwing the crewneck in Paige’s closet shelf. Paige caught a glimpse of herself in her mirrored closet door; although Aaliyah had been brushing it, her hair looked disheveled, which may or may not be correlated to the countless times Paige had ran her hands through it and tugged on her scalp the last few days. The skin under her eyes looked purple, though she knew it wasn’t due to a lack of sleep. Her cheeks looked slimmer, and her posture looked defeated. She barely recognized herself.

“As for what you can do,” Nika stood in front of her, blocking her view of herself. “You just have to show her that you’re the same Paige and what she means to you without telling her.”

Paige looked at her skeptically. “And how do I do that?”

Nika shrugged, moving on to her next article of clothing to fold. “We’re just here to make sure you eat and shower. You’ve got to figure out how to fix your situationship on your own, P.”

Paige sighed, her gaze finding its way back to the picture on her desk. She needed to move it to her bedside when Nika and Aaliyah left. It felt too far away now.

Buzz. Buzz.

She felt the buzz coming from underneath her thigh, causing her to jump with anxiousness at the thought of a potential message from Azzi. Flipping over her phone, it revealed an incoming call from her little brother, Drew, instead.

“Sorry guys, I gotta take this,” she said, giving her friends apologetic smiles.

Nika and Aaliyah shook their heads and waved her off with their hands, promptly getting up and exiting the room. “We’re coming back in an hour to feed you!” Nika called out from the living room.

Paige breathed a small laugh; her heart growing slightly larger at the love and care her friends had just shown her.

Running a hand through her semi-smooth hair, she answered her phone, “Hey, man.”

“Paigey,” Drew’s adolescent voice sounded through the phone speaker, the smile on his face apparent even though Paige couldn’t see him. It made her smile to herself.

“What’s up? You miss me?”

Drew’s voice got quieter, and he sounded shy as he said, “A little.”

Paige felt her chest clench. “Miss you too. Lots.”

There was a brief pause before Drew whispered, “Dad told me he thinks you’re sad.”

Paige scrunched her face into a grimace. She had spoken with her dad on the phone yesterday, and yes, perhaps she was doing a great impression of Eeyore subconsciously while he attempted to catch up with her. Regardless, as an older sister of over ten years to Drew, it was her nightmare to have him calling her out of concern. She was supposed to be his role model, not a worry for him.

“He did, huh?” Paige scratched the underside of her jaw, feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Drew continued to whisper, which was a mystery to Paige. She would have found it endearing had she not been embarrassed at the entire situation.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, alright? I’m all good here.”

“You don’t sound good.”

Paige’s grimace deepened, her frown feeling ten seconds away from being permanently etched into her face.

“Just going through some school stuff, nothing crazy. Like I said, don’t worry about me. How’s your school going?”

Drew ignored her question in an attempt to pivot the topic off her, and asked quietly, “Is it about Azzi?”

Paige blanched. How in the world –

Drew continued, “Dad said it might be.”

She blinked. Then blinked again.

She sighed, closing her eyes.

“Yes, I’m going through some stuff with Azzi right now.”

“I thought you guys were married?”

If Paige had been drinking any semblance of a liquid, she would have spit it out cartoon-style. Instead, her mouth dropped open and she croaked, “What?”

“I dunno, you act married. Like mom and dad.”

She couldn’t help but huff a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of their conversation. She shook her head to herself, growing a smile without meaning to, “No, Drew. We’re not married.” Without warning, her mind drifted to Azzi in a white gown, her head covered in a veil, and Paige next to her in a crisp, lavender suit –

You’re losing it, Bueckers.

She cleared her throat, continuing, “We’re just going through something right now.”

“Oh,” Drew said, sounding slightly confused. “Well, are you going to make up soon?”

“That’s the goal, yeah.”

“Good,” Drew said, a smile in his voice. “I love Azzi so much. I miss her almost as much as I miss you.”

Paige jutted her bottom lip out, pouting. If Drew didn’t stop being so sweet she may start crying again.

“Sometimes I wear your Slam cover shirt when I miss you guys.”

Sometimes I wear your Slam cover shirt when I miss you guys.

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

Azzi hadn’t spoken with Paige in five days.

She’d seen her – blonde hair like a flash of light sitting on the opposite end of the mess hall. Pale skin she had memorized like her own, teasing her while they changed in the locker room. Ocean blue eyes that she could recognize anywhere, looking sad and tired.

They had shared glances, if you could call them that. A better way to describe them was probably prolonged, yearning, stares. Azzi tried not to think about it too long.

No words were exchanged. Just the underlying tension of wanting to speak but not knowing what to say.

Azzi felt like a zombie, carrying on going to class and practice like nothing was wrong. On the surface, she probably looked like she was thriving; doing well in her classes, getting compliments from Geno and CD at practice, lifting the most weight she ever had in her life.

But she was sad. She was so sad without Paige.

Falling for Paige was the easy part. The 6’1, annoying, girl had weaseled her way into Azzi’s heart years ago, setting up a home there she didn’t know she had room for. Like that special part of her was always meant for Paige, that she had always been waiting to hold space for her.

Now, they hadn’t just crossed the thin line between friendship and something more they had been dancing on for years. It felt like they had doused the line with gasoline and lit it on fire. She wouldn’t be able to repair the line from memory; the line was gone.

On the fifth day, in the quiet of her room with her nails chewed raw and the early noon sun peeking through her window, she decided she needed her mom.

Katie Fudd picked up Azzi’s call on the third ring.

“Hi baby, I was just thinking about you,” she heard her mother’s saccharine voice through the phone.

“Hey mom,” Azzi said, her voice coming out wobblier than she intended. She closed her eyes tightly at the long pause from the other end, a sign her mother had picked up on her tone and was going into protective mode soon. She heard her mother shuffle on the other end and the click of a door.

“Azzi,” Katie said softly, “What’s up?”

Azzi twisted her mouth, suddenly feeling the sting of her nose as she attempted to hold back her tears, glad she had opted for a phone call instead of a facetime. The concern that was likely on her mother’s face would probably cause her to break down in sobs.

“I’m going through stuff with Paige right now,” Azzi sniffed, “It sucks.” She lay on her stomach in bed, fiddling with one of the plushies Paige had won for her at the Minnesota State Fair two summers ago.

Katie was quiet on the other end, giving Azzi time in between her questions. “What kind of stuff?”

Azzi picked at a strand of fur on the plushie that was longer than the rest. Did she tell her mom about her and Paige?

It would forever alter the way they interacted, but what hasn’t changed at this point?

Azzi rubbed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “You can’t tell dad. Or, like, anyone. Please.”

“Of course, honey.”

Azzi continued pressing her thumbs lightly into her closed eyes; it was like if she couldn’t see, she wasn’t there to hear the words she was about to speak to her mother.

“Paige and I have…kissed a few times. Recently.”

The phone was silent for a second. Then another.

“Just recently?”

Azzi’s eyes snapped open, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion at her mom’s unsurprised tone.

“You don’t sound shocked,” Azzi noted flatly.

She could hear her mom smiling on the other end of the line. “Not really, no.”

Azzi let silence hang between them again, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to feel about what her mother had just admitted.

Eventually, she whispered, “I don’t know what to do”. A single tear trickled out her left eye and her tongue darted to catch it, tasting its saltiness.

Her mother whispered back, “That’s okay, baby. You don’t always have to.” Azzi grew a small smile at her tender words.

“Close your eyes for me,” her mother told her. “When you think about you and Paige, what feels good? What feels right?”

Azzi listened, closing her eyes. Memories flashed through her mind.

Her and Paige, laying side-by-side, laughing. Recently, they’d laughed so hard while watching TikToks together that their heads collided. Azzi had whined through her laughter, clutching her temple dramatically, and Paige had kissed her gently where she claimed a bump was forming. They had smiled at each other dopily, Paige caressing her cheek. She wanted to hit a rewind button and go back to that moment. Go back to any moment they were together again.

She thought back to two weeks ago, when Paige had accompanied her to the grocery store. Paige had trailed behind her quietly, thinking her small smile towards Azzi went unnoticed. But Azzi noticed everything about Paige, and so she spent the shopping trip hiding her blush. She hadn’t blushed from embarrassment, but from the sheer act of being seen and seemingly adored. Her blush deepened as Paige had reached for her hand in frozen dessert aisle, lacing their fingers together like it happened every day. Like it was normal.

She remembered two nights before Paige’s birthday. They had been caught in the rain after practice and had rushed to Paige’s car in the parking lot. They laughed breathlessly once the doors were locked, Paige blasting Azzi’s seat warmer and Azzi reaching for the extra hoodies in the backseat for them both. They stared at each other in the closeness of the car, their breaths mingling as the rain pitter-pattered on the windows. Loose, wet strands of hair were splayed across both their cheeks, and Paige had gripped her by the chin. Page whispered to her, “You are so beautiful.”

Azzi squeezed her eyes tighter.

“Everything,” Azzi breathed. “I mean, she’s been my best friend for years. Everything feels right with her.”

Katie hummed. “Your dad is my best friend. People fall in love with their best friends all the time.”

Azzi felt her stomach drop at her mother’s words. She feigned a nonchalant laugh to downplay the pulse of the word love that was making its rounds through her head now. “Alright, let’s relax? I’m just trying to figure out if we should date or not.” She paused before continuing, mumbling, “If she even wants that.”

“Az,” she heard her mom sigh, “You’re not really questioning that, right?”

Azzi fiddled with a hang nail on her thumb. “I mean, yeah. Nothing’s really changed except we kiss now.”

Azzi grimaced as the words left her mouth, knowing they were a lie. Everything had changed. The way they looked at each other changed. The way they laughed together, thought of each other, and touched each other. Everything.

Katie chuckled softly. “You want me to tell you what I think? Or better yet, what I know?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I know you will anyway.”

“Smart girl,” her mom told her fondly. She paused before continuing. “The first time we met Paige, I thought, that’s a hell of a player. I said, wow, she’s really talented. My second thought was, God, she’s head over heels with my daughter.”

Azzi blinked, feeling her stomach flutter from the memory of meeting Paige for the first time and hearing her mom retell her version.

Katie continued, “I mean, you should have seen it. I mean, you lived it, but it was different for the adults, you know? She followed you around, stared at the back of your head when you weren’t looking making these heart eyes, and always was trying to make you laugh. We, your dad and I, joked about it with her parents how we couldn’t believe we already met our in-laws.”

“Mom,” Azzi blushed, mouth dropping in shock.

“Keeping it real, honey,” Katie chuckled. Her tone softened, “That girl adores you, and you adore her. It’s scary, I know, for things to change. It’s scary to not know how something’s going to end up. But, baby, you just have to do things scared. Life’s not going to wait for you to be ready.”

Azzi continued playing with the skin on her thumb, mulling over her mom’s words.

She was right, she knew. She was always right.

Azzi sniffed, “I know.”

“Are you avoiding her right now?”

“A little.”

“Az,” Katie sighed. “Put that girl out of her misery. You know she’s probably dying to hear from you.”

“She could have come to talk to me by now.”

“Azzi,” Katie said, sounding patient, “She moves when you move. She would never do anything if you weren’t ready. You know that, right?”

Azzi did know that, and the fact made her want to cry again. She was deflecting her fear of change completely, making herself believe that the reason they hadn’t spoken was mutual needed space. In reality, Paige just respected her goddamn boundaries, and the thought made Azzi’s chest ache.

“I know.”

“Go talk to her, honey,” her mom told her gently.

Azzi sat up then, nodding though no one could see. “I will.”

“Good,” Katie said, “When that’s done, give me another call. This time, I want all the details – I’m talking who, what, when, where, how.”

Azzi groaned with a smile growing on her face, a hand coming to rest on her cheek as she felt it grow warm. “Maybe.”

“Miss you, honey. Call me more.”

Azzi smiled to herself, wiping the dried tears from her cheeks. “Miss you more. Thanks for listening.”

“Always, always, always. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Azzi flipped onto her back as the call ended, her eyes pandering upwards at the ceiling. Her fingers lay laced and flat on her chest in an attempt to stay still and ground herself. She breathed deeply, in and out.

Her mind shifted on its own accord. She thought to Paige, who had looked so sad over the last few days. Paige, who she missed so much. And it was her fault.

She couldn’t help it – she started to cry. It was a steady stream of tears, causing her vision to get blurry and nose to get stuffy as she cried quietly to herself. She covered her eyes with both hands, suddenly feeling the weight of every decision she had ever made to lead to this moment of uncertainty and stress.

Azzi was beyond frustrated, of her situation with Paige, and especially with herself. She had just had a heart-to-heart with her mom for crying out loud, who had told her exactly what to do and what she knew was right in her heart. But somehow, it was like every muscle in her body was trapped in so much fear of what could be that she couldn’t just pick up the phone and call the one person she could say anything to. She wanted to throw something or scream into a pillow. She wanted to do anything.

In her mind, she could admit she wanted to date Paige, exclusively, with a high probability of it lasting forever. To verbalize that out loud? That was terrifying. It was terrifying to potentially lose her best friend in the process of their relationship not working out, lose the close bonds they had made with each other’s families, and put their friends in a position where they felt they had to choose sides. She was terrified of the possibility of having to start a relationship like the one she had with Paige from scratch, when in all likelihood what they have could never be replicated. Worst of all, she imagined the pain of seeing Paige every day, similar to how they were now, and being unable to talk to her like she didn’t already knew everything about her. It made her feel sick.

She found herself in fetal position, clutching her phone as it would buzz any second with a text from Paige that she needed to see her.

Azzi fell asleep over her comforter with her phone in her hand, it’s usual placement when she facetimed Paige at night and into the early morning. There was no blonde on the other line this time, and her hand felt cold.   

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

Azzi woke from her nap (if you could call it that) several hours later to a rough shake of her shoulders.

Her eyes opened into a squint, recognizing Caroline watching over her with a gentle smile.

“Sleeping beauty is finally awake,” Caroline chided softly, sitting down next to her on the bed as Azzi peered at her alarm clock. 5pm.

“Christ, I slept that long?” Azzi said groggily, her voice scratchy.

Caroline nodded, humming. She gave her a once-over, before adding, “Didn’t want to wake you. Thought you’ve been kind of tired this week.”

Azzi sat up, rubbing a fist at her eye. “Yeah, thanks. Is dinner at the dining hall soon?”

Caroline nodded wordlessly, beginning to wring her hands together. Azzi raised a brow at her, eyeing her questionably as she exuded an uncommon nervous energy.

“You good?” Azzi asked.

Caroline breathed in deeply for three seconds. In one long exhale, she said, “AaliyahtoldmeaboutyouandPaigeandthatyou’vebeenhookingupforawhileeventhoughIcouldhaveguessedbecausehellothesexualtensionisoffthechartsbutanwaysI’mreallysorryyouguysaren’ttalkingrightnowanddoyouneedahug?”

Azzi gaped at her; her body being pulled into an ironclad hug as Caroline rocked them back and forth. “Sorry you’re going through this, Az,” Caroline told her quietly.

Slowly, Azzi’s arms came to wrap around Caroline as she continued her cooing. She snorted, more to herself than anything, as she asked, “So you know then?”

Caroline nodded into her shoulder. “I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me but I’ll let it slide for now because you seem really sad. But don’t keep that shit away from me again, please.”

Azzi smiled to herself, her chest feeling warm from her friend’s embrace. “Promise, Car.”

Caroline pulled them apart, placing her hands on Azzi’s shoulders and giving her a stern look. “For the record, I think you and Paige are soulmates and need to get married and have lots of babies. I don’t condone whatever lover’s quarrel is happening right now.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at her friend’s words and devotion to the idea of her and Paige being made for each other. The thought made Azzi’s stomach flutter.

“Noted, Car, thanks. What would you suggest I do to get out of my ‘lover’s quarrel’?”

Caroline smiled wearily, hands still gripping Azzi’s shoulders. “I think we should go to the dining hall and have dinner there, because I know for a fact Paige will be there. And I think you two should talk.”

Before Azzi could voice the protest that bubbled on her lips, Caroline held up a finger. “Ah! No ifs, ands, or buts. Azzi Fudd, are you a coward?”

“Carol, that’s dramatic –”

“What, are you seriously scared of some skinny blonde girl?”

Azzi huffed a laugh, feeling slightly exasperated. “Carol –”

“We’re going and I already picked out what you’re wearing.”

Azzi paused.

“I was asleep. You went through my closet?”

“Yes, and you snore like a chainsaw. You should really work on that. Now, let’s go – I’m hungry and you’re self-sabotaging the love of your life.”

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

Arriving at the women’s basketball dining hall, Azzi wrung her hands in the passenger seat of Caroline’s car.

Caroline’s words echoed in her brain – you’re self-sabotaging the love of your life. and are you seriously scared of some skinny blonde girl?

Unfortunately, the answer was yes. More so, she was scared of how said skinny blonde girl made her feel and that feeling was too much.

What did she even say as her first words to Paige in nearly a week? Hi, I’m sorry for being an idiot and I actually can’t imagine my life without you?

“If you don’t get out of my car, I will have to call in extreme measures that are two forwards by the names of Aaliyah Edwards and Amari DeBerry.”

Caroline’s voice cut into Azzi’s thoughts, her stern tone causing Azzi to laugh nervously.

“I’m getting out, I’m just…preparing.”

Caroline sighed, leaning towards her. In a gentler tone she said, “You know her. She knows you. Just say hi.”

They locked yes for a moment, Caroline’s softening to let Azzi know she was okay. Azzi gave her a small smile in thanks.

Heaving a deep breath, she got out of the car, and the pair walked silently to the entrance of the dining hall. In hearing the muffled sounds of the chatter of their teammates, Azzi seemed to freeze in place. Caroline, respectfully, shoved her through the door.

It felt like every member of the UConn women’s basketball team was in attendance for dinner and had turned their head to smile at Azzi and Caroline in greeting. Azzi’s palms felt sweaty as her eyes wandered across the room for that familiar nearly-platinum blonde.

She wasn’t there.

Letting go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she let Caroline guide her to the buffet table where they could begin piling their plates with the assorted dinner options.

Azzi gnawed on her bottom lip as she held onto her empty tray, feeling her appetite leave her body completely at the sheer thought of Paige being in close proximity to her in the next hour. She picked up a bag of chips, but her mind was flying through variations of how to greet Paige eventually, how to make sure her voice didn’t crack and that she didn’t stutter –

“Az.”

That voice. The voice.

Azzi stopped briefly, chewing at her bottom lip with so much force she worried it would bleed. She turned slowly, making eye contact first with the ceiling. Slowly her eyes trailed down to the crown of blonde in front of her, and then ocean blue eyes.

Paige.

Azzi’s eyes bounced across Paige’s entire face, this being the first time they had let themselves be this close to one another in nearly a week. She traced the slope of her nose, the hollows of her cheeks, her defined cupid’s bow. Their eyes met again.

“Hey.”

Paige stood tall, her t-shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders. A t-shirt with –

“Is that my face?” Azzi blurted out in surprise, breathing a short laugh.

Paige looked down at the t-shirt that adorned her chest, unable to mask the grin that was forming as her eyes flickered between the graphic of Azzi’s face on her shirt and her face in real life. Paige was wearing a custom shirt made after their Slam cover together, one that only included Azzi. The t-shirt version of her grinned up at her, and it made Azzi shake her head in disbelief.

“We haven’t talked in almost a week and you’re wearing my face on your shirt.”

They locked eyes again.

Paige’s smile was lopsided as she said, “Drew told me he wears our Slam shirts when he misses us. Thought I’d take his advice.”

Azzi blinked at her. On its own accord, she grew a lopsided smile of her own, unable to stop.

Her eyes unwavering, Paige took a step closer. “We should talk. Outside. If you’re free.”

It’s happening.

We’re talking.

It’s happening.

Azzi felt herself swallow, scared to look away as she nodded slowly.

Without another word, Paige led them towards the door, and Azzi turned her head in time to see Caroline shoot her an aggressive thumbs up from the opposite end of the room.

--------

To avoid the bitter late-October air, Paige suggested that they sit in her car.

Azzi nodded quietly, following her awkwardly until they both stood near the trunk. Confused, Azzi pointed towards the passenger seat at the front. “I’ll just wait –”

“No,” Paige interjected quickly, reaching to scratch the back of her head. The movement made Azzi’s t-shirt face stretch irregularly and Azzi made a note to laugh at the image later when she didn’t feel her nerves eating her alive. “Just, uh, hold on. Please.”

Paige sounded nervous. Paige never gets nervous.

Azzi watched as she lifted the trunk of the car and motioned for Azzi to step in front of it to get a better view.

Taking over the entirety of the back of the car wasn’t just a bouquet of flowers – it was as if Paige had airlifted a flower shop and stuck it in her car. Bouquet upon bouquet lined the back of the car, no flower being the same. There were roses in every color, daffodils, tulips, hydrangeas, you name it. They were all gorgeous, unique, and practically spilling out of the car at their abundance.

“Holy shit,” Azzi croaked, her eyes as big as saucers as they bounced over each overlapping petal.

Paige stepped into view then, her hands rubbing over her uncovered biceps as the brisk air whipped at them.

“You don’t have a favorite flower; you just know that you love them. So, I bought them all.” Paige told her slowly, seemingly uncaring of the garden spilling out of her car and hyper-focused on Azzi.

Azzi’s mouth was agape, unable to come up with words.

“They’re, uh, for you, by the way. If it wasn’t clear,” Paige continued, sounding unsure for most likely the first time in her life.

Azzi’s eyes bounced with the flowers and Paige, her body forgetting the cold around them and suddenly feeling warmth spread from the tips of her toes to her ears, and particularly in her chest as she took in the scene in front of her.

Azzi wanted to hug her then, her fingers twitching aggressively.

Paige had bought out practically an entire flower shop because she knew Azzi liked every flower. And they were out of season.

“Paige,” Azzi swallowed, trying her best to not get emotional. “Oh my god, they’re so beautiful.”

She looked at Paige shyly. “Thank you so much.”

Paige shrugged, her face reddening from what could have been the cold or Azzi’s gratitude. A moment later she turned serious, her hands finding their way into the pockets of her cargo pants.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

At her abruptness, Azzi’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and Paige squeezed her eyes shut before shaking her head. “Didn’t mean to ask like that.”

She took a deep breath before trying again.

“Azzi, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Paige was watching her earnestly, awaiting her answer, and Azzi felt like the air was leaving her lungs. Her palms were sweaty, her eyes tracking every blonde wisp of hair that whipped with the wind against Paige’s cheekbones, and all she could do was choke out, “Yes.”

A slow grin grew on Paige’s face, and immediately she was in action. Quickly shutting her trunk closed, being careful not to damage any flowers in the process, she held out a hand to Azzi, letting her decide if she wanted to place her own in her palm.

Like second nature, their fingers laced for the first time in a week, and Azzi could swear she could hear her heartbeat in her ears over the familiar feeling of the calluses on the skin of Paige’s hand.

Paige guided her to the passenger side, opening the door for her and shutting it once she was sitting down. As she rounded the corner to the driver side, Azzi whispered, “Oh my god,” to herself while staring at the dash.

Azzi watched Paige fasten her seatbelt as she got comfortable in the driver side, taking in the way her fingers shook slightly.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

They were going on a date.

A real date. No apartment bedrooms. No movie in the background. Paige had bought her a botanical garden and was taking her to dinner.

Azzi felt a laugh bubble out of her lips before she could stop herself, and Paige turned slightly to look at her as she began to pull out of the parking lot. “Something funny?”

Azzi shook her head, smile still playing on her lips. “I’m just excited. And this is kind of crazy.”

Paige gave her a full glance then, grin ever-present across her lips. ���A long time coming, don’t you think?”

Azzi twiddled with her string of her hoodie, feeling giddy. “Where are we even going?”

“Lou’s.”

“Lou’s?” Azzi repeated. “Like Lou’s where we take our parents when they visit? And need a reservation a month in advance? And definitely can’t wear sweatpants and a shirt with my face on it?”

Paige chuckled, letting her forearm rest on the center console, moving to drive with one hand. Azzi forgot how attractive it was when she did that.

“Yes, that Lou’s,” Paige confirmed. “Don’t think about all that. Just be here, with me.”

Just be here, with me.

Azzi quietly watched her for a moment before decided to place her hand atop Paige’s that rested in between them. Paige chewed on her bottom lip, fighting the smile that threatened to break through, and Azzi realized she was doing the same.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the car ride to the restaurant, the energy of controlled glee radiating off the two of them as she were finally, and willingly, in proximity with one another again. The tingling of skin as their forearms brush. Hands interlaced as they always should have been.

Just be here, with me.

---------

Lou’s was everything Azzi had remembered, with intricate chandeliers dangling from the ceiling and perfected folded napkins adorning each seat. The lighting had been limited and moody, there being only a small candle at the center of the table to illuminate their menus and lower half of their faces. Paige had pulled the seat out for her and didn’t move until she was comfortable in her chair. Azzi had blushed through the entire interaction.

They had received stares from all surrounding people enjoying dinner in the restaurant. What with being incredibly tall and athletic looking, as well as adorning the most casual possible outfits in a sea of dresses and suits, the pair stood out like sore thumbs.

Azzi didn’t care; she could count on one hand the number of times her and Paige tore their eyes away from the other throughout the night. Two of those times were to look at the menu, where Paige had gently asked if it was okay that she order the steak for her since she was taking too long to decide.

They had talked about their weeks in detail, describing every moment that one missed that they normally would have been present in. Azzi thoughtfully left out the conversation she had earlier in the day with her mother, as well as Caroline’s adamant use of the term “soulmates”.

“I had so many TikToks I wanted to send you,” Paige had told her, moving her plate in the middle of the table so Azzi could take some of her mashed potatoes. “I saved them all in an “Azzi” folder so I could send them later.”

In the case of absence in conversation, they found themselves staring at one another with goofy smiles, only partially showing their teeth as their eyes slid across the other’s face.

Sometime in the middle of dinner, Paige had reached for Azzi’s hand and never let go. Not to finish her meal, not to drink her water, not to pay for the bill, and not to guide her back to the car, opening the passenger door for her once again. Only when rounding the hood of the car to make it over to the driver’s side did she let go, to which she promptly relaced their fingers once settled into her seat.

Now, the sun was down in Storrs, and Paige had pulled the car over to a farm near campus.

Bundled up in the extra hoodies and jackets Paige always kept in her car (hidden under the aggressively large flower shop residing throughout the back of her car at the moment), Paige was leaned against the hood of her car with Azzi in between her legs and leaning her back against her chest. They were staring at the stars.

Paige had her arms across Azzi’s front torso, her hands intermittently rubbing Azzi’s arms in the process to make sure she was warm.

Azzi was perfectly warm; more so, she felt perfectly whole. She couldn’t believe she had let it get to as many days apart from one another when in the truest form of the word, Paige was her home.

Azzi decided she should know that.

Breaking the comfortable silence that had taken over them with their heads tilted up at the sky, Azzi cleared her throat slightly.

She felt Paige shift her head behind her to rest her chin on her shoulder and squeeze her in closer. She was waiting, Azzi realized.  

“I was scared to see you.” Azzi spoke so quietly, had it not been for their closeness, no one but herself would be able to hear her. The surrounding darkness was a comfort almost. If she couldn’t see fifteen miles ahead of her, the words threatening to escape her mouth seemed less terrifying somehow.

Paige listened silently, only giving her torso a squeeze as both confirmation she was listening and motivation to keep going.

Azzi swallowed. “You make me so nervous sometimes that I feel crazy,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I already felt so much for you as my friend, and now you’re not just my friend and I somehow feel more.”

Paige nodded against her shoulder, her warm breath shooting across the side of Azzi’s neck. She shivered.

Azzi shifted her body, turning to face Paige completely as they stood chest to chest. The surrounding darkness, their solidarity, and the date from earlier – the reassurance it provided that this is something Paige wants too, was causing a newfound wave of confidence to course through her. “You should that that’s how I feel about you. It’s more. It’s always been more. I can’t be anything other than more with you. Nothing else feels right.”

Paige was staring at her so intensely, it took everything in her not to divert her eyes. Azzi fought hard to stare back, watching as Paige swallowed from the pale column of her throat. Her face was serious, not an ounce of humor lingering in her eyes like Azzi was used to.

“I,” Paige started, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat before continuing.

“I knew I liked you last year. I probably started falling for you way before that, maybe when we first met even. I remember meeting this pretty light-skinned girl when I was fifteen and suddenly no one else in the world mattered.” Paige swallowed again, bottom lip slightly quivering, pressing on.

“I notice everything about you, Az. Like the way you let everyone cross the street before you. And how you do the same little dance when you get a good grade. You always change the Brita for your roommates even if you didn’t have water from it that day. You take both Stewie and Curry for walks at the same time so one of them doesn’t feel left out. You read books like you’re paid to do it, and you never dog flap the page you’re on because you don’t want to ruin the integrity of it, and you love to use our photobooth picture from last summer at the State Fair as a bookmark.”

From the moonlight above, Azzi could see Paige’s eyes were starting to water. “And I think of you, all the time,” she choked out. “I think of you when I’m driving, and I see someone walking a little dog that I could punt across a field because I know you love them. I think of you when I see a friendship bracelet. I think of you when get changed in the morning, so I can leave out the clothes you like to borrow. I think of you when I’m sad or mad, because you always know what I need to feel better. I think of you when I’m happy, because somehow you find a way to make it better. I think of you when I listen to any music, ever. Because for me, everything always comes back to you.”

Paige breathed in deeply through her nose, visibly trying to steady her emotions. “I wake up every day thinking, I am so lucky to know Azzi. Because I am. I am so lucky and so gone for you Az, I don’t think there’s anyone in this world that would ever hold a candle to you. Not for me. You’re it for me.”

Paige reached up then, wiping tears under Azzi’s eyes she hadn’t realized had been falling. She gave a wet laugh, holding onto Paige’s hands as they wiped gently on her skin.

“Paige,” she said, sniffing through the sting of her nose. Paige’s irises looked bright blue against the red rim of her eyes, and she was staring at Azzi like she hung the moon. Azzi couldn’t help but laugh wetly again, “We are so dumb.”

Paige leaned her forehead against Azzi’s, her laugh coming through as hot tears dripped from her chin. “We are,” she agreed, sounding incredibly happy and soft at the same time.

Azzi sniffed, pulling away slightly to look Paige in the eye again. “I want to be with you. All the time. Even if we’re not doing anything or even talking because you’d be there and that’s all I need. You’re all I need. You’re the only person in this world that sees me, like really sees me.”

Their noses brushed, their skin slightly cold and wet from the remnants of their tears. Paige reached her hands to cup both sides of Azzi’s face, her thumb caressing her cheekbone. Azzi gripped the front of Paige’s jacket, holding her close.  

“Azzi,” Paige said low, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Azzi’s breath hitched.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Her heart hammered. “And I want you to be mine.”

Paige looked at her like she was an angel on earth. She breathed in deeply through her nose, then out.

Delicately, she placed a long kiss to Azzi’s lips. Once. Twice. Three times. Azzi stopped counting.

“Then I’m yours.”

-------

An hour later, the pair had snuck into Paige’s apartment, thanking every force that be that everyone in the apartment was asleep.

After ensuring the door was locked, they didn’t bother with the lights. Azzi guided Paige to her bed through the moonlight peeking through her window and sat on the edge. Paige stood above her, her right hand caressing the underside of her jaw while gripping her neck lightly, the other tugging at the thick hoodie that covered her upper body.

“Off,” Paige told her, her voice coming out low and gravelly.

Azzi nodded, trying to hide how much she enjoyed being told what to do. Paige watched as she lifted the hoodie above her head, taking her shirt with it and leaving her in just her sports bra. The peaks and valleys of her abs poked through, and Paige wanted to lick them.

So, she did.

She spread Azzi’s legs apart, kneeling in between her thighs and pushing her back on her forearms so she could drag her tongue against the skin of her abdomen. Paige heard Azzi’s breath hitch, the combination of the slickness from her tongue and the whirring fan above them causing goosebumps to rise across her skin. Paige watched as they rose, transfixed and needy to feel their skin touch.  

She leaned back slightly, tugging off her own hoodie and the Azzi t-shirt she had worn all day. In a swift motion, her own sports bra came off, and she helped Azzi take hers off. They faced each other, bare, and Paige felt her eyes get heavy from the sight in front of her. Azzi was all hard stomach, strong muscle, still maintaining an aura of delicateness. “You’re perfect,” Paige murmured, gripping her by the neck again to pull her close and kiss her roughly.

They kissed like it was a dance, their tongues clashing rhythmically and their bare chests brushing with each movement. Nipples hard from the cool air of the room, each brush against one another felt like it was painfully heightened, leaving them both gasping slightly in between passionate stretches of making out.

Paige was still kneeling, with Azzi wrapping her legs around her torso to make them as close as possible. Paige moved one hand to cup her ass that sat on the comforter, the other attaching itself to one of her breasts, all the while leaving wet kisses down the column of her throat and shoulder.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Paige murmured, kissing across Azzi’s collarbone. Azzi pressed her pelvis further into Paige’s torso, seeking pressure.

Azzi leaned down to kiss across Paige’s jaw and near her ear where she gave her earlobe a tug with her teeth. “I’m all yours, baby,” Azzi whispered in her ear, her voice breathy and bordering a moan.

The feeling of Azzi’s hot breath against her sensitive skin, with her pelvis pushing against her, and hearing her words had Paige dripping.

She pushed Azzi back, letting her fall on her forearms again. Tugging her sweatpants and underwear off together, Azzi sat sprawled out in front of her completely bare with heavy-lidded eyes. Paige felt a pulse in her core, licking her lips.

“Fuck me,” Paige said, fighting the urge to jerk her hips into nothing.

Azzi saw she was struggling, and she spread her legs further apart, a wicked smile on her lips. She spread her exposed folds apart with her pointer and middle finger, and Paige fell on her hands and knees at the sight, her mouth going dry.

In an attempt to pull herself together, she turned her head to one of Azzi’s calves next to her, kissing up the length of the muscle slowly. She heard Azzi’s soft sighs above her and licked along the entirety of her inner thigh. Without warning, she latched onto her center, licking and circling her tongue while Azzi’s moans filled the room.

Paige reached up, cupping her mouth shut to avoid waking anyone up. She removed herself momentarily from her center, murmuring against her pelvis, “Only make a sound if you’re telling me it’s mine. Yeah?”

Azzi nodded earnestly, and Paige slowly removed her hand from her mouth, letting her palms brush against an exposed breast and it found its way back to helping Paige separate her folds.

Paige lifted Azzis hips, drawing her center back to her mouth as one hand gripped her ass tightly, the other pumping two fingers rhythmically inside of her. Flicking her clit with her tongue, Azzi jerked her hips against her mouth, and Paige relished in the contact.

“Ride me, baby,” she vibrated against Azzi’s center, eliciting a suppressed groan from above her. Azzi grinded her hips against Paige’s face, her tongue and fingers working together as she continued gripping her ass so tight she was sure she’s leave indents where her fingertips were. “Just like that.”

“Baby,” Azzi moaned, trying her best to speak quietly. “Fuck, it’s yours. It’s yours.”

As her jerking got faster, Paige could tell Azzi was getting close, and it turned her on like nothing else. She slipped her fingers out of Azzi’s center and replaced them with her tongue, switching between this and circling her clit.

Her fingers found her own folders through the seam of her sweatpants, and Paige breathed shakily again Azzi’s core as she began to touch herself.  

The vibration cause Azzi to jerk and gasp, her breathing coming in short hitches echoing throughout the room. “So close, my god,” she groaned quietly.

Paige pushed her closer to her face then, moving faster against Azzi and herself to get them there at the same time.

Azzi’s hips began moving wildly against her mouth, and Paige’s movements on herself were beginning to get sloppy from her own approaching orgasm. Her core pulsed rapidly, and the sound of Azzi’s breathy moans were putting her over the edge.

“I’m yours.”

“Fuck, I’m yours.”

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, I’m yours.”

In the next second, Azzi’s stomach clenched, and she held herself still against Paige’s mouth, her core pulsing as she finished against her. The feeling had Paige’s eyes rolling in the back of her head, the grip on Azzi’s ass tightening as she came to her own peak. She choked on her moan, swallowing it through open-mouthed kisses against Azzi’s core while she breathed raggedly above her.

When she finished, her head collapsed on top of Azzi’s stomach, her breathing just as ragged as Azzi’s. They held each other like that for a few minutes, syncing the rise and fall of their chests until their breathing calmed down.

Paige propped her chin near Azzi’s belly button, a lopsided smile on her face while Azzi stared at her incredulously.

“I think you ruined me for anyone else, ever,” Azzi told her, still slightly out of breath.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna make me fuck you again to make sure that’s true,” Paige grinned.

--------

The following morning, Paige and Azzi woke up, naked, in Paige’s bed.

Dawn light filtered in as it usually did with the cheaply constructed apartment window blinds, and the two girls were already staring at each other.

They lay nose to nose, too giddy from the previous night to get a proper amount of sleep. Their limbs were tangled in a way where it was difficult to sort where one started and the other ended. Paige held Azzi’s knuckles up to her lips, kissing them as if she were made of glass. Azzi rubbed her free hand through Paige’s hair near her hairline, scratching her scalp as she did so. The ghosts of smiles lingered on their lips.

“Girlfriend,” Azzi whispered. “Giiirrrrlllfrienddd.”

Paige watched her, amused. “You like saying it, huh?”

Azzi bit her bottom lip as she smiled and nodded against her pillow. “Just practicing. Never had one before.”

Paige kissed her knuckle once more, smiling fondly. “We can practice, babe.”

“Okay, you first.”

Paige cleared her throat dramatically, moving her head side to side. “How’s my girlfriend doing this morning?”

Azzi grinned so wide, it looked like her face might split in two. It was contagious, causing Paige to grin back as she watched a blush rise to Azzi’s cheeks. Azzi attempted to push her face into her pillow to hide her giddiness, but Paige just tugged her closer and held her by the jaw, tilting her face up at her.

“Don’t hide from me. I wanna see all of you, all the time,” Paige murmured against her lips, giving her a soft peck. “My girlfriend.”

“That feels so weird to hear, god,” Azzi whispered against her lips.

Paige tucked a loose curl from her bonnet back underneath. “Good weird?”

“Like I never want to be normal again, weird.”

They laid like that for an uncountable amount of time, kissing each other gently and whispering sweet words to one another.

“The prettiest girlfriend in the world.”

“My pretty girl.”

“I’m so lucky, baby.”

Eventually they detached themselves from each other, Azzi claiming they had to brush their teeth before running out to grab coffee, as they slipped on their clothes for the morning (Azzi’s outfit was entirely comprised of Paige’s clothing, of course).

In the bathroom, Azzi grabbed their toothbrushes, putting toothpaste on Paige’s for her as well as her own. Once they started brushing their teeth, they stared at one another through the bathroom mirror, swaying side to side.

“I think I love you,” Azzi told her with her toothbrush in her mouth, still brushing her teeth.

Paige stared at her through the mirror, momentarily shocked, then snorted. In the most Azzi way possible, she had slipped that she loved her. Mouth full of toothpaste and all.

Paige slid closer to her, wrapping an arm around her from behind and resting her palm against her hip, tapping. She continued brushing, catching Azzi’s eyes through the mirror.

“You think or you know?” Paige asked her with her own mouthful of toothpaste.

“I know,” Azzi leaned into her, her response gargled as she continued brushing.

Paige felt her chest warm and bloom like the flowers that were still residing in the back of her car. She wanted to close her eyes and bask in the moment she had been waiting for the last year, but a voice in the back of her head told her to start living right now. Because right now, she was brushing her teeth with her dream girl that she loves, who loves her back, and she was never going to be here again.

They took turns spitting out their toothpaste in the sink before Paige turned Azzi, so they were chest to chest. She held her cheek, the other arm wrapped around her waist. Azzi’s doe eyes were staring up at her in adoration, her dimples popping out like Paige’s personal heaven. She loved her so much, she deeply, she could think of a million things she wanted to tell her to let her know how much. Then, she remembered, if she played her cards right, she had forever to do that.

So, in that moment, she looked Azzi in the eyes and told her, “I love you too.”

They shared a minty kiss. or two. or three.

It didn't matter - they were in love.

Leaving the bathroom together, Paige and Azzi ran straight into Aaliyah and Nika who were sat in the living room. At taking in their still slightly disheveled joint appearance, their friends’ eyes widened comically.

“Did y’all –”

“Are you –”

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, Paige’s arm finding its way across Azzi’s waist once more. “Yeah,” she told them simply, letting the goofy smiles shared between her and Azzi do the talking. Without looking up from her beautiful girlfriend, she heard Nika’s high-pitched scream and Aaliyah’s guttural “Let’s go!”

As the couple eased their way back into Paige’s room, they heard their friends' muffled voiced through the thin apartment walls.

“Holy shit. FINALLY.”

“We have to tell everyone. Amari owes me fifty bucks.”

“Should we take shots?”

“We have 4pm practice, you lunatic. I’m in.”

[junebuggiezz]

Saja Boys/Hunter Assitant!Reader

𖦹—This is part two of the original request by @mistycomma! I now have an AO3 account for future stories and oneshots! Please do check it out （´∇｀''）(I was struggling how to make notes separate in chapters LMAO)

Gender neutral || Reader guilt trips a bit (sorry) || Saja Boys live AU || Platonic Rujinu || Not-so-accurate Demonology/magic || Google Translate used for one sentence (sorryx2) ||

SAJA BOYS ♡

Knowing you worked with Huntr/x as the Chief Assistant, you became the perfect target to dismantle the group piece-by-piece. After Rumi’s voice begins to dwindle, something begins to affect your Sixth Sense. Due to it wavering, it allowed you to be tricked into believing the girls were being attacked by a horde of demons, which allowed the Saja Boys to catch you off guard. You were then restrained and taken to the apartment they hosted in to get the answers they seeked.

Unable to talk to them normally, you decide to take the more personal route—getting to know what makes the member tick—to see what could work in your favor. Maybe it was a bit manipulative, but it was between literal life or death while you were tied to a chair.

Besides… It’s not like he’ll have any emotional attachment to you and vice versa, right?

…Right?

♡

╰┈➤ Jin was positive he’d be able to get some information out of you. Even better, tying you to a chair and getting you to talk is such a flawless plan—Is what he thinks. C’mon people, he and the group members are 400+ years old. The Saja Boys taking you back to their apartment and tying you up with rope was the easy part, getting you back into the chair after you broke the rope and started fighting them was harder.

You swing your weapon down, its edge nearly missing the tip of Jinu’s nose. Mystery attempts to attack you from behind but you jolt your elbow back into his face, disarming him temporarily. Abby suddenly rams into your side like a football player, forcing your weapon to drop and dissipate. You tumble on the wooden floor and quickly use your legs to kick the demon off you.

Abby lands, holding his stomach and bearing his fangs at you. “You’re not a good guest to have around.”

You channel the Honmoon and reform your weapon back into your hands. “I was KIDNAPPED!” You angrily reply. You let out a yell as you swing down, only to purple smoke to waver in the air. Jinu suddenly appears in front of with his claws and he successfully slashes the surface of your knuckles. You grit your teeth and do a swift kick, knocking him to the floor.

Suddenly your vision spasms and you see the lines of the Honmoon behind him. It glistens blue before rippling into magenta, tears bubbling in its state. Your eyebrows begin to furrow as the lines flicker and blur, distracting you enough to have Baby, Mystery, and Romance tackle and push you into the ground.

You breathe uncomfortably on the floor as you position your head up to face Jinu, who kneels down with his head titled. He gives you a smile.

“Trouble with your Sixth Sense, hunter?” He teases and pokes your nose.

You sneered and nearly bit his finger.

“EUGH!”

Jinu finding out Rumi was part-demon was such a blessing to him; the fact that you or the other members were unaware of this fact made it better as leverage. With his first meeting with Rumi he threatened to tell you that she was part-demon, which set her off more. So unfortunately, she and the other girls can’t help you out. He’d go to these meetings and inform the boys before heading out, making sure you hear about it as he exits.

You don’t have much leverage to communicate with him; he doesn’t tell you about his family at this time, he doesn’t have any weakness you know of, he just looks at you with a knowing smile before leaving for business. You didn’t care he was pretty, you wanted to slap him silly. However, thank Lady Luck, Rumi, because the man starts feeling bad for kidnapping you (Yippee?). All of those Rumi hangouts began to have an effect on him, not to mention the fan meet up where the little girl gave him the drawing of him being a “kind soul”. Bingo.

It was nighttime. You fidgeted with your tied legs to keep yourself from sleeping, but could feel your eyes begin to blink for longer periods of time. The front door suddenly clicks and you see Jinu walk in.

He’s staring at a piece of paper pinched between his fingers and, surprisingly, looks contemplative.

“You got mail?” You call out.

Jinu nearly jolts in place as he glances at you. Right, right… kidnaped Chief Hunter.

“Yeah, sort of.” He responds as he walks to the fridge. He takes one magnet—shaped in the Saja Boys’ logo—and places the paper on the fridge. You get a good look: It was a slightly wobbled drawing of Jinu with angel wings. On the side of the drawing said “Jinu, you have a beautiful soul”

Whoever drew this must have been a kid… and Jinu had been, and still is, staring at it for a good amount of time—oooooohh!

You lay back on your seat. “A fan drew that?”

Jinu remains quiet before looking away from the drawing. “Yes, she did. A child.”

You give a shrug. “If only.”

Jinu’s eyes furrow slightly and he walks away down the hall.

As Jinu begins befriending Rumi and talking about his past, his personality begins to show off more, even when he comes back to the apartment. He starts asking you to define things and just asking questions in general about things that have changed in the centuries since he had morphed into a demon. He comes back during nighttime and has late night talks about whatever he and Rumi discuss (without revealing her secret) as well.

“Surely this means something , right?” Jinu pulls out a blue card with a duck wearing a suit and hat on it, the top reading “SAVE THE DATE”.

You snort. “You think you landed a date with Rumi?”

“Ew, no!” Jinu cringes. “Why would that—that’s not why we’d meet. She’s not even my type!”

“Hey! Rumi is everyone’s type!” You defend. “‘Save the date’ means to mark down the day for something important, dingus!”

Jinu closes his eyes and lifts his head up. “Yeah, I totally knew that…” He murmurs.

We’re aware of Jinu’s issue: He doesn’t feel like he could be human anymore and submits as Gwi-Ma’s servant in order to have the memory of his family erased. He still lies to Rumi about this and reveals the truth during the awards ceremony, which is revealed to you on the TV in the apartment. The aftermath involving Gwi-Ma’s defeat and Rumi revealing herself as part-demon, it was a lot in all fairness. Besides Rumi and the Saja Boys, you were beginning to grow attached to him during the 2 weeks; you saw the glimpses of humanity that cracked through and the late night talks had just begun to help you two get to know each other.

Jinu being swallowed into the fire and into Rumi’s weapon, it was a bit difficult for you and the others to process. You scour through all the books you had to see if there was a way to bring a demon back from the dead, and you surprisingly do find a section. It takes you a while for you to get it right, but you’re able to make it work.

“H-how…? How am I alive?” Jinu rasps as he rubs his sore neck. Rumi places a comforting hand on his shoulder and looks up at the person in front of them—you.

You spread your arms out, a book in one hand and Rumi’s weapon in the other. “Welcome to the world of the living!” You smile as you sit on the edge of the bed.

He gaps at you. “But, how?”

“We can answer questions once everyone gets rest.” You glance over to the other side of the room where the other Huntr/x and Saja Boys slept. “It took a long time for me to get you back here…”

Jinu coughs and grabs hold of the water bottle Rumi places in his lap. “I’ll take your word then…”

You nod and go to exit the room.

“[Name]?” You pause and turn around. Jinu looks reluctant before finally giving in. “Thank you for doing this.”

“...You’re welcome.” You grin before leaving the room.

Jinu carries the guilt in harming you, Rumi, and the souls he allowed to be taken. He knows he had to do it for his survival, but gaining his humanity back made him feel less accomplished when he originally carried it out. He vents to you about his past and he just can’t understand why you decided to revive him despite the things he’s done. You do your best to work with him in his healing process.

Jinu has the Saja Boys take a hiatus after they’re freed. This also allows him to get to know you, which then later turns to you two dating. Jinu likes to take aspects of his past and incorporate it into the relationship—makes handmade gifts, sings to you with his bipa in tow, and would probably commission art of you to hang up somewhere. He has you guys hide your identities with certain outfits whenever the two of you go out so fans don’t attempt to bombard. He had to learn about disguises from the girls and Romance because the man tried to dress the two of you in 1600th century clothing—was he trying to avoid fans or flock them towards you??

Him and Rumi become best friends after the whole ordeal. She and the other groups are very surprised that the two of you decided to date each other. Like hello, blink if you need help, assistant! Anytime Jinu wants to gift you something or plan a date, he texts or facetimes her to get advice.

Rumi snorts as her ringtone suddenly goes off and she lifts herself off her bed to reach her bedside table. Jinu’s caller ID shows up and she answers, his camera showing him sitting down.

“Rumi, thank goodness, I need your help.”

“Jinu…? Seriously, it’s like,” He sees her glance to the top of her phone screen, “ Three fifty-six in the morning, what do you want?” She mumbles tiredly.

“Okay okay. So I wanna ask [Name] on a date—”

“ Tell me. ” Rumi straightens her back and is suddenly wide awake.

Jinu likes giving you information about the history from when he was alive. He also finds interest in your knowledge of Demonology, reading through your books (with permission), also adding sticky notes with info that he thinks would be useful to you. He likes to see you train as well and tried to practice with it once. It went as well as you expected.

You cross your arms. “You’re gonna drop it.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“Bring the weapon closer to your torso when you swing, Jinu.”

“It’s fine ,” He adjusts the weapon and grins at you, “I’ve seen you use it a bunch of times.”

“Yeah, when it was used against you. Plus you had demon claws before, soooo… Can’t say you had a weapon that wasn’t attached to you.”

“Y-Yeah, well I’m confident that I can pull this OFF—!” He yelps as the weapon’s momentum catches him off guard, making him panic and drop it. The weapon dissipates.

You bit your lip to keep your laugh from spilling. Jinu looks over his shoulder and points at you accusingly. “ No. ”

What a dork.

The Magpie and Tiger adore you in their own way—Sussie enjoys sitting on your things and chirping to you while Derpy curls into you and gets you to pet him. You can’t take Derpy’s Sussie’s hat. That’s a rule made abundantly clear by him when he stretched his neck away from you.

Jinu pockets his hands in his jeans and shakes his head as you stare at the bird. “I already tried that before. It doesn’t work.”

Sussie trills and forms a cheeky grin, his eyes squinting.

♡

╰┈➤ Baby seemingly doesn’t care about the fact you’re here and is more interested in taking your soul, but is steered by Jin to get as much info out of you as he can. The majority of the time he sits by you and just scrolls through his phone to make sure the group’s fanbase is growing. His role is to be the cute and innocent Saja Boy, so sometimes he’s set on interviews and fan calls where he puts on his act and does heart signs and pretends his sarcasm is just a part of his persona (even though it’s a part of how he truly acts). 

Baby gets accustomed to the basic norms pretty easily, which is why he’s the member who mostly stays on his phone. Because of this, he swipes yours away and any other form of tech you got on your person.

Romance tightens the knot on your wrists, checking them twice before nodding to himself. He leans over your shoulder and curls his palm under your chin.

“Don't get into any trouble now, dewdrop.” He jokingly teases you like you're a troubled dog. He whisks his hand away and walks away with the other boys before Baby suddenly stops and turns back to you.

The group paused and looked at the blue-haired man. 

“What's going on?” Jinu hums.

Baby speed walks back to you and takes your phone from your front pocket.

“Hey!” You shimmy in place as Baby walks back and tosses your device onto the marble top kitchen counter. 

“So she doesn't call anyone else.” Baby states as he takes his place back. The group nods and continues to walk out while you jump in place, chair screeching.

“You are such a MINX! Ouu—when I get out of these binds, you are going DOWN!”

You continue to yell before the door is locked.

You start to pick up on his mannerisms. How tired he got after acting in front of people and massaging his forehead before going to do something mundane. You start to realize that must have been the reason why he’s the member that lessens his use of the glamour spell when he’s in the apartment. You try to slip in questions about it and, oh boy, it gets him ranting.

Baby had his phone in his left, his right hand making a small heart with his pointer and thumb. “Jeongmal gomawoyo! Salanghaeyo~!” He coos and gives a heart-melting smile with his eyes closed. The two girls on the other line giggle back and say their goodbyes before hanging up. Baby’s face immediately morphs into annoyance and fatigue, sneering at his phone before flopping onto the couch, right in front of the chair you're tied to. 

You’ve seen the girls have their moments with fans, most were positive, but sometimes dealing with demons or just fans who were too much caused their mood to dampen. They’d come back to the shared apartment and rant to you and themselves about the behavior they had faced. There’s a beat of silence before you ask:

“Take it that it's tiring having to act a certain way with fandoms, huh?”

“Ohhh, don’t even get me started,” Baby sighs as he covers his eyes with his arm. He pauses then abruptly lifts his body up. “ Oh. So that’s how you’re acting? Trying to get me sappy?”

Dang.

Baby fully believes he can manage through despite his growing annoyance. And he’s sure that he doesn’t need someone like you to talk about the type of stuff that goes down with the fans that treat him like a, well, Baby . He’s very wrong. Ultimately he starts from complaining to full on rants while pacing back and forth in front of you. To be fair—he and the other members don’t get much out of it—he doesn’t know what lies ahead after the souls are taken and Jinu gets his memories erased. This ends up with him being more passive aggressive with the group behind the scenes, but is still forced to go out and play his persona and get the job done.

Jinu adjusts his black leather jacket as he speedwalks to the apartment door. His face looks irritated and his lips are pulled down. Just as he opens the door, he yells out just loud enough for someone to hear. “Pout all you want, but you better meet us by the gate in three.” He calls out before the door slams.

Baby paces from the hall as he adjusts his beret in a huff. He inhales slowly, pushing his shoulders up, then releases the air from his mouth before walking towards the door. He then pauses and looks over his shoulder to look at you slumped on the chair. You must’ve fallen asleep. (How you didn’t wake up from the arguing and door slamming was unknown.)

Baby’s eyes glance at the door then back to your figure a few times before deciding.

When you wake up, you stretch your arms—when you realize they’re actually moving apart. You gasp and move them to the front of you, markings from the material pressed onto your skin, also realizing your legs move apart when you feel something hit the side of your shoe. 

You look down and see your phone clean and intact with a note beside it.

You’re welcome. -Baby Saja

After Baby’s freed, he started getting closer to you; texts, calls, sudden and random hangouts became the norm for you two. The girls are questionable about it—even though the Sajas are no longer demons, it is still a bit odd that the youngest member decided you’d be something he’d attach himself to. Not that they’re judging in a bad way, but more in a what-kind-of-relationship-will-this-lead-to way. But either way it ends, they accept it and sort of put their trust in Baby as time goes by.

Baby hated working with Gwi-Ma because it's just hard work he's required to do for someone else. He mainly wants to do his own thing in his own time. When he’s set free, he indulges in human culture and easily picks up mannerisms. It's to the point that he actually begins expressing his sarcasm more light-heartedly and his fans love it. He can act as sweet as he wants to rather than being this cutesy boy toy.

“Baby, can you hand me the blanket?”

Baby gets up from the couch. “Nope.” He responds back as he walks down the hall. A minute later, he returns with a soft blanket and hands it to you.

“Thanks, Baby.” You smile.

“No problem.” He faintly smiles at you before wrapping an arm over your shoulder and looking at his phone.

Abby theatrically rubs his arms as if he was freezing. “Baby, I'm cold too! Think you could—”

“Can't you get it yourself?” He responds without looking up.

Abby’s face flattens. “Woooow. You’re such a fake friend.”

♡

╰┈➤ Abby knows that his body is something to be admired, his fans easily spew that the moment they get a glimpse of him. He’s pretty confident of his image and doesn’t pay attention to any insults.

Abby lays on his side with a magazine in his hands. He adjusts himself comfortably, the hem of his sweatshirt lifts and shows a portion of his abdomen. Feeling the air, he smiles to himself and glances up at you over the pages.

You’re surprisingly not paying attention to him, instead you’re facing over your shoulder attempting to loosen the rope on your wrists. He frowns and squints his eyes, quickly replacing it with nonchalance and looking back at a random page.

“See anything you like, Chief?” He asks as he flips the pages.

You pause your action and attempt to look at his face. “I don’t. I’m stuck to a chair like an 80’s interrogation. Does it look like I have anything to like?” You sneer as your face blooms a darker color.

Abby is the most when he’s tasked to guard you. He’s an aggressive fighter, so you escaping is essentially the hunter and hunted. He doesn’t tease or try to call out. The man is actively trying to get you back in that chair so you don’t foil their plan.

You feel your heart stammer as you grip your weapon. You attempted to glance at the Honmoon. Attempted—- as you try to get your Sixth Sense to work again, a weight is SLAMMED into you, forcing your weapon out your hands and disappearing. The wind is knocked out of your lungs as you lay on your stomach, your vision blurring. You feel a rough material wrap around your ankles and wrists before your vision reverts back. You see a pair of hands tying the knot on the rope on your hands and hold them down.

“Sorry, but we still need some information from you.”

“Y-You are not sorry.” You wheeze out. You feel a strong pat on your shoulder blade.

“A little.” He teases.

Abby’s issue with Gwi-Ma is similar to Baby: Doesn’t like the fact that he has to go do things that don’t really benefit him in the long run, nor does he know what he’ll do after everything’s said and done. What, does he just get souls for Gwi-Ma to feast on and continue until then? His glamour also gets the better of him and he hits his limit during the two weeks of your captivity. 

Abby’s form shifts, revealing purple skin and the demon markings that crawled his arms. “If I can’t keep this up, this plan will be dead in the water.” He mumbles to himself.

You, ever so lending an ear to listen to him rant (by force), suddenly have an idea pop up.

“Y’know I’m an expert in Demonology, correct?” You say. You see him turn to you questionably before it clicks. Hook.

“You! You’re a hunter—you must know how to extend glamour spells, right? Or know about demons who have them.” Abby walks over to the couch to sit in front of you. “Tell me how to fix this.”

You lay back in your chair and pretend to contemplate. “I don’t know… I have been tied to this chair twenty-four seven. You also tackled me to the ground and hurt me realll baddd. ” You click your tongue. 

Line.

“Please, just—” He growls to himself in frustration. “If I give into your requests, will you help me enhance any power of mine?”

“Sure. But only if you make a promise bond with me.” You straighten yourself in the chair. “Anytime I help you with enhancing your abilities, you are obligated to follow my side of the deal, and I do the same. If any of us break this bond, we are to be cursed.”

“How am I to trust your words? You’re the Chief Hunter.”

“And you’re a demon. Guess we can’t get what we always want, do we?”

Abby furrows his eyebrows before he gets up and walks behind your chair.

Sinker.

Your bond practically ties you two together—you’re not allowed to do certain things and vise versa—otherwise one of you would be practically cursed. By what? You don’t want to know and neither does Abby. Your freedom for his use of glamour was satisfactory but with a cost—you couldn’t tell the girls what had happened to you and Abby would be weakened with his attacks in his form. A win is a win in your book, so you bitterly accept it.

With the aftermath of Gwi-Ma’s defeat, the bond is fully broken as Abby’s soul transforms him fully human. Abby’s freedom allows him to relax more and he’s slowly able to get into humane habits. He also starts interacting with the three old women for tea and chit-chats. The trio absolutely adore him and when they find out you’re dating him, they’re just a pinch jealous, but they find the two of you as a nice couple. 

Abby admires your will of determination and strength; he doesn’t say it, but you had put a bit of fear in him when you placed the bond on him. He knows you’ll continue your rounds as a hunter and it’s something he grows to respect, and is thankful that he isn’t a demon because Heaven knows what you would’ve done to him had he not had a part of his soul left.

Abby isn’t insecure about people viewing his body, he adores it, and is willing to teach others healthy habits to get their own physique during his hiatus from the Saja Boys. So him knowing you’re a hunter allows him to have sparring matches and gym sessions with you. He isn’t a gym rat by any means, but does enough to keep him in shape.

Abby stretches his shoulders. “The winner buys the group’s lunch. Huntr/x AND Saja.”

You roll your wrists and jump in place on the mat. “You think I haven't done that before? You should see the amount of stuff Mira, Rumi, and Zoey order. You’ll see how much it costs when I beat you.”

Abby crouched his upper body in preparation, a cocky grin forming. “Then I hope you have enough money in your wallet for a few more.”

You grin back. “I should be asking you that.”

In the aftermath of Huntr/x and Saja Boys’ collaborative performance, Abby’s wallet screamed in pain.

♡

╰┈➤ Romance tried what he was best at—romancing you to get you to confess giving any info about the hunters. He would lift your chin up to face him, get a few inches away from your face, practically whisper and hum his sentences to get you to fluster and spill anything. Instead he got spit into his eye and nearly got sliced in the process. So… that didn’t work—and you’re back to being tied with stronger rope. 

Doesn’t mean he stopped trying! It’s annoying at first, but you grow used to it over time. You either make a sarcastic rebuttal or flirt back with him; if you choose the latter, that actually catches him off guard; he’s used to his fans fainting at the sight of him, instead you decide to be bold?

Okay. That totally won’t affect him.

He also starts getting used to your comebacks and he starts finding them funny the more creative they are. The harsher they are, the more it chips at him a bit. You see the twitch of the eye or the tick of his brow, which he immediately covers up and puts his charm back on. You know he’s a pretty face, you can admit that, but you also know it’s something a person expects to be perfect. Imagine if he didn’t have it?

“Must be nice having fans adore your looks all the time?”

Romance smiles and shrugs as he pushes his bangs. “It is. And I don’t mean it in a narcissistic way. I just know that I look good.”

“I’m sure. Afterall, that pretty face is what’s keeping Gwi-Ma from setting you on fire”

He pauses and laughs, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course I know. Besides, your fans are kind enough to give themselves to us.”

“To you or to Gwi-Ma? “Cause I’m pre-tty sure you’re just a pawn in his game of chess.”

“Pawns are useful.” He frowns.

“When they are in numbers , otherwise they’re the weakest set on the board. And what happens when they get used up?” You lean your torso forward near his face, squinting with malice, and harshly conclude, “They get tossed out.”

Romance blinks and pure disturbance fades onto him. He gets up and begins walking down the hall to his room. “Such dark thoughts swirling in that head.” He comments before he disappears.

Somehow just by doing that, it changes something in him. Oddly enough he slowly starts asking questions about yourself rather than about Huntr/x and it confuses you, but you answer vaguely enough to satisfy him and he leaves you alone. He then starts to add tidbits about himself—his likes, his dislikes, what he finds interesting, what he wants to know. When he does the listed actions above, he starts taking a few seconds to look at any features he missed before you push him back. Yeah he still does the work needed for Gwi-Ma, but now there’s a lot less denial on his part, and he considers the aftermath of his fate when he and the other members complete the goal.

Did you just draw a demon to the verge of existentialism?

“You come from a lineage of hunters, no?”

“I do. Though, I’m sure you and your group knows that information already.” You shrug.

“Mhm.” Romance hums. He slightly leans his torso forward and puts his hands out, lightly grasping at the collar of your outfit. “This is really smooth material. What brand is it?” His eyes glance at you.

You give him a questionable look before sighing. “It’s [Brand name]. We had gotten an email from them wanting to do photoshoots for Huntr/x. They gave us some clothes after the set as a gift.”

Romance smiles. “I should go there when I have the freetime.”

You slump back in your chair, ropes shifting your ankles and wrists. “Don’t get many opportunities like that in the Demon world?” You mumble irritatedly.

You see Romance’s face shift from casual, to thinking, then a disappointed frown. “Not exactly.” He slowly lets go of your collar and looks down on the floor with… sadness?

No. You’re not gonna feel bad for a demon who had kidnapped you a few days ago!

You felt bad for a demon who had kidnapped you a few days ago. You could feel your ancestors roll in their graves. Romance’s outlook made him fear death—specifically, a death from Gwi-Ma. He knows Gwi-Ma would set him and the others ablaze if they failed to bring him souls to eat. Your conversation about them being pawns really struck him and he felt guilt for taking the souls of the people who were fans of the Saja Boys.

Baby unwraps the plastic from his heart-shaped lollipop and places it into the side of his mouth. “Romancccce! We gotta go to the fan signing, let’s go!” He projects before exiting the apartment.

Romance walks down the hallway and looks at the door before facing you. Despite the rope’s obvious strength, you still attempted to shimmy your ankles and wrists to find a way to loosen them. You growl in annoyance and deflate in defeat, shutting your eyes in the process. You suddenly feel a presence behind you and you look up to face Romance with a contemplative expression.

You look at him in surprise, then your eyebrows furrow. “Doubt you’re planning on letting me go.” You roll your eyes and give him a half-lidded look. 

Your expression shifts when you hear the rope snap and your wrists are slowly pulled in between the two of you.

Romance brings your wrists forward and rubs his thumbs over the markings. He looks up at you with a pleading look. “Would there be a way to set us free?”

Your mouth opens. Words are unable to come out as you stare at him in shock and defense. You clear your throat and face the floor to keep him from seeing your flustered state. “I could do some research… I’m not sure what I can do.”

You don’t see his soft smile. “I’ll be happy with whatever you do.” And you feel his lips ghost your inner wrist.

Setting Romance free makes him feel like he’s breathing fresh air. I’d like to think he indulges in hair care or fashion, or both! He’d look through clothing brands and stores, setting up outfits for the Saja Boys and himself. He drags you out for shopping dates and loves buying you clothes and matching sets. With hair, he begs you to get a pink hair streak to match with him, also asking if he can practice any hairstyles he’d seen in magazines or social media.

When you're busy being assistant manager, he’s thinking about you coming back into his arms again. Be still, his heart! He does surprise visits while you’re at work and observes you while making heartfelt comments about you and how hardworking you are. If you’re nowhere to be seen, he goes to find someone who can.

“Is [Name] here?” Romance asks warmly. He wore his usual outfit and carried a shopping bag full of clothes and a bouquet.

Bobby looks at him with his eyebrows raised in shock. “Uhhh… Yeah! Yeah, [Name]’s in the room down the hall to the right. They’re working with Huntr/x for choreography though, so please don’t make a ruckus.”

Romance nods and begins taking the directions instructed. Bobby looks at his disappearing figure before going back to his route.

“Is [Name] dating a Saja Boy?”

 The other Saja members don’t mind your dating Romance at all. To be fair, they did believe that he’d be the first to get a partner at some point in their career (whether he’d stay a demon or not). The Huntr/x girls? An assistant manager of Huntr/x dating a Saja Boy? Tsk tsk, traitor (jokingly).

The sun was still rising in the early morning. Rumi and Zoey were still snoring in bed while Mira got up, her early bird never missing its mark. Mira takes a few sips of her water before she hears the front door unlocked. She looks over and sees you taking off your shoes. “Hey [Name].” She greets.

“Hey, Mira! Just woke up?” You walk towards the table she sat at.

“Yeah, the other girls are asleep. You know I always wake up earlier than—” She pauses and squints at your outfit.

“What?”

“Are you… I swear, you left yesterday with a different shirt. Are you wearing Romance’s Kiss button down?” She points to your shirt—a white collared button down with red kiss marks lining the collar. She places her arm on the table and gives you a single raised eyebrow.

You purse your lips and kiss your teeth. “Yes.”

Mira sighs and looks away from you to sip her cup. “You two are such a couple, it’s gross.” She says, a grin slightly forming on the corner of her lips.

♡

╰┈➤ Mystery is an odd one—personality and behavior wise—made to be someone for the fans to make theories about why he doesn’t really talk besides when he’s singing. Not to mention his more animalistic(?) behavior that’s been seen in public and online. 

You wiggle your arms behind the chair, attempting to loosen them or find a knot that isn't fully closed in—

Mystery suddenly ducks down in front of you and snarls.

“WHAT THE HECK!?” You flinch back, nearly knocking your chair in the process.

“Cool it, Mystery,” Baby leans his elbow on top of his back, “They're tied up at this point. No way they’re gonna be able to escape.” He says as he tosses your phone up and down.

Mystery isn’t exactly putting much in the vocal department besides singing, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing so. He knows how to talk, he just doesn’t find himself doing so nor does he know what topics he could possibly find himself talking about to you besides the necessary information needed on Huntr/x and yourself.

“Can you tell us about your family’s lineage of the Sixth Sense?”

“You can TALK?” You gap. “And NO! Why would I tell you!?”

“Of course… It was worth a try though.” He shrugs.

You know he isn’t much of a talker and follows the group around to complete their mission. You weren’t sure what kind of compass you could get him to sway on either, so you try to make small talk with him to get him to feel bad for you. You give stories that help humanize you and the girls to try to get him to suddenly appeal and set you free. It felt very, very dumb when you thought about it, but it was the only thing you could think of.

“I know about certain things that the members do,” You see Mystery’s head slowly turn to you and give you his undivided attention, “For one, Mira likes to sneak out from her room in the middle of the night and snack on humus because she lost a bet with Zoey. She had to pretend to hate humus in front of Rumi and the joke had gone on for so long that Rumi fully believes that Mira doesn’t—”

“I don’t understand how this gives us info about the hunters.”

“Shh—hush hush—I’m getting there.”

Mystery remains quiet and he nods his head. “Continue.”

“Anyways…”

Mystery knows that the two of you are wasting time by doing this. He begins to pick up on the fact that you’re just stalling and he calls it out everytime, but he just… lets you continue anyways while he listens to your voice. He doesn’t move his head unless he’s nodding or shaking, it stays completely still to look at you. When you finish your story he simply nods and continues to watch over you until the group comes back or he leaves. Over time he begins to question certain topics involved in your stories.

You huff a laugh as you peer down at the purple-haired demon. “There was another time that Zoey was a guest star on this one show—”

“What show?”

“Oh—it’s where people react to viral videos to a crowd and…” You see him tilt his head. “Y’know we can put it on the TV and watch it?” You gesture your head behind you.

Mystery looks at the TV then to you. “Alright.”

Over time you begin to ask questions about him: What’s his favorite color? Does he like a specific food? Any shows he likes? He just… shrugs and shakes his head. Mystery had only been stuck with the band members, keeping you from breaking loose, and sucking souls from his fans. Other than that, he doesn’t really do much since they go back to the demon world to update Gwi-Ma. He doesn’t have time to self-indulge in what this century has to hold.

Mystery realizes that there isn’t much to him. He doesn’t know about his own interests besides others and doesn’t have many things that help describe him besides what was unknown of him. So once he’s free, he decides you and the others are gonna be the ones to help him out and see what could catch his eye.

When he’s more in touch with his human side, he brings you books on Demonology and any items related to it. In general, he likes to give gifts that pique your interests. He makes hangouts/dates where the two of you try something new—cooking classes, pottery, restaurants, viewing sights—even if you aren’t interested in it or are unable to, he does so for himself and comes back to tell you all about it. He still likes to listen to your voice and just stares at you lovingly as you talk about topic to topic.

When you leave for Huntr/x business or to slay demons, he acts dramatically solemn until you come back. He’s practically attached to your hip once you come back from working. He once tried to convince you to work with the Saja Boys as their assistant manager instead, to which you had to decline.

The Saja Boys do all agree in some way that “You chose that member out of anybody else?”. Hey, your circus, your monkey. Mystery doesn’t care what they think ‘cause he knows himself that he’s happy being with you. The Huntr/x girls also think that way but a lot more vocally. Overall, it’s a relationship everyone has grown to accept.

Well… Except one.

“How could you do THI-HI-HISSS!” Zoey dramatically sobs as she shakes you back and forth. Rumi and Mira sit back and glance at each other then the two of you. “You got to him before I did! I SHOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE TO BE KIDNAPPED!”

You sweat. “Zoey, you know I can’t sing. You wouldn’t have been able to make the Honmoon gold if you were the one kidnapped.” You assure the sobbing woman as you take hold of her hands.

She pauses her sobbing and huffs like a puppy who’d been scolded. “I guess you’re right…” She pushes the top of her head onto your chest. “I’m still upset though. I saw his eyes during our fight… he was just my type, even as a demon.” She reminisces.

You press a comforting hand on top of her head and sigh. “You’ll find another long haired boy with a good face to date soon enough.”

“Easy for you to say…” She grouchily mumbles under her breath.

It’ll take a bit for her to get over it…

♡

𖦹—I did my best with the other members considering the fact that they fully lost their souls/humanity in canon and they just represent their names as a way to poke fun at how fans view members in the KPop industry. Let me know how I did!

[formulafanfics13]

HI! Firstly, love your work I've been binge reading since I found your account 🤭, secondly I hope you're doing okay and finally, could you please do a Just the Tip for Daniel with Christian Horner's daughter please 🤭

i'm so glad you love my work, it really means a lot to hear that people are enjoying it!🥹 i do already have a daniel Ricciardo 'just the tip' which you can find here. however here is a slightly different version of it! 🫶🏼

just cockwarming - DR3 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: After months of building tension, you finally find yourself in Daniel Ricciardo’s hotel suite, straddling his lap and begging for just a little — just the tip. What begins as innocent cockwarming quickly unravels into your first time, slow and overwhelming and utterly owned. Daniel pushes boundaries with careful hands and a filthy mouth, whispering praise and need until you’re soaked, broken, and his. The night ends in tangled limbs, soft laughter, and dolphin facts that somehow feel like love.

Warning: Explicit sexual content including first time sex, cockwarming, virginity loss, dubious consent (verbal agreement is given, but gradually ignored), creampie, possessive language, power imbalance (age and status gap), emotional vulnerability, use of pet names, potential CNC undertones (hesitation ignored), and a reference to the reader being Christian Horner’s daughter.

You shouldn’t be here. Not in this hotel suite. Not in his shirt. Not in his lap. But Daniel’s hands are warm around your waist and his voice is soft in your ear and the only thing you know for sure is that if you don’t kiss him again, you’re going to fucking combust.

So you do. You kiss him like you’ve wanted to for months. Like you’ve ached for it. Like you’ve been dying to know what his tongue tastes like and what his stubble feels like against your neck and how low his voice drops when he finally lets go of control.

He kisses you back like he already owns you. Like he’s just been waiting for you to ask.

The hotel suite is dark. His hands are everywhere. Your thighs, your waist, your back, dragging you closer, closer, until you’re straddling him with nothing but a paper-thin layer of cotton between you. His mouth trails down your throat, open and hungry, and when his hips rock up, just a little, you gasp.

“Daniel-”

His voice is velvet. “Too much?”

You shake your head. But he still slows down. Because he knows. Knows you’re untouched. Knows you’re Christian Horner’s daughter. Knows exactly how dangerous this is, how wrong it would be to be the first to fuck you, to break that last perfect line, to bury himself so deep inside you that you can never pretend to belong to anyone else again. But he also knows that you’d let him. In a heartbeat.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “You’re the one who called me, sweetheart.”

You nod. Breathe shakily. “I want you.”

He kisses your cheek. “I know.”

Then, he shifts. Adjusts. And you feel it, his cock, hot and hard through his boxers, pressed right against where you’re dripping into your panties.

Your voice is small. But honest. “Can I ask you something… weird?”

He smiles. “Always.”

You chew your lip. Then whisper “Can we try… cockwarming?”

His brows rise.

You press on, fast. “Just for a little bit. Just the tip. I just… I want to feel it. Feel you. But I’m not ready yet. Not all the way.”

Daniel stares at you like you’ve set him on fire. Then he nods. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, baby. I can do that.”

He kisses you again, softer this time. Rolls you gently onto your back, undresses you inch by inch. Worships your skin. Doesn’t rush. His voice is constant, murmured filth, whispered praise, checks for consent like it’s muscle memory.

When you’re bare beneath him, thighs open and shivering, he strokes himself slowly and lines up, tip slick and swollen, breath catching. “This is just cockwarming,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “Just the tip. Say stop if you want me to.”

“I will,” you whisper.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

And he pushes in. Just the tip. It burns. But not in a way that hurts. Not really. Just full. Stretching. Your body fighting instinct and surrendering at the same time.

Daniel groans low in his throat. “Holy fuck. You’re so tight.”

You clutch his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

His lips brush your forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

You stay like that. Still. Him half in, barely moving. His breathing ragged. Your hands shaking. And it works.

You feel everything, the weight of him, the throb, the warmth, without being overwhelmed. You feel owned, but safe. Full, but protected.

He kisses your temple. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But you’re perfect.”

You sigh. Relax. He watches your face. And then, slowly, too slowly for you to clock it in time, he shifts his hips.

You gasp. Your hands grip his arms. “Daniel-”

But he kisses you again. Deeper. And his cock pushes in. More. You freeze. “Danny…”

He whispers against your mouth, “I know, baby. I know. Just a little more.”

You shake your head. “You said-”

“I know, but fuck-” his voice breaks, trembling, “-you feel so good. Just a little more. I swear I’ll stop.”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going. Inch by inch. Until he’s fully inside. Your body shakes. Your breath breaks. He’s huge. Too much. Too deep. And yet- You don’t tell him to stop. You can’t. Because he’s moaning into your neck now. Holding you like a prayer. Shuddering like your cunt just undid every single part of him. And you’re soaking for him. Dripping. Ruined.

He stills when he’s fully buried. Not moving. Not fucking you yet. Just breathing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I couldn’t stop. You’re just- fuck, you’re everything.”

You can barely speak. “It’s okay…”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. Whimper. “It hurts. But it’s good. Don’t stop.”

His forehead presses to yours. His voice cracks. “Can I fuck you now?”

You nod again. Barely. And he does. The rhythm starts slow. Measured. Careful. Deep. Daniel fucks you like he knows what it means. Like it’s a promise. Like this is his, you’re his, and he’s not giving it back.

You wrap your legs around his waist. You cry into his neck. You moan his name like it’s carved into your ribs and he answers you with every thrust, low, guttural sounds, lips at your throat, cock dragging through your untouched walls like they were made for him. “You’re mine now,” he whispers. “You’ll never let anyone else inside you, will you?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering. “No. Only you.”

His thrusts get harder. Faster. Meaner. Your body breaks. Comes around him. Clamps down and shakes, and he growls, spilling into you like he was holding back his whole fucking life just to come inside you. He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t even ask. And neither of you say anything for a long, long time.

[ckret2]

Chapter 81 of human Bill Cipher not enjoying being the Mystery Shack's prisoner but being even less keen on being the government's prisoner: the feds are snooping around the shack, nobody likes this, and so a family meeting is called to discuss how to send them packing.

####

"I just kept telling him I didn't know anything," said Soos. He was slumped bonelessly on the couch, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and holding a soda in one shaky hand. "I accidentally said I don't know anything when he asked where he could get lunch in town!"

"You did good, Soos," Stan said. "That's how you handle feds—don't tell 'em anything."

Stan and Ford had called a household meeting, and now everyone was packed into the living room: Soos and the kids on the couch, Stan and Abuelita in the armchairs, Bill and Wendy at the living room table, and Ford out in the entryway so he could pace.

(Everyone was wearing deely boppers. Mabel had had a very productive day.)

Even Waddles and Gompers had been dragged to the mandatory meeting. Gompers had already eaten the pink pompoms off Waddle's deely boppers and was now trying to eat the hem of Dipper's shorts while Dipper tried to push him back from touching the sunburns on his legs.

"What are we gonna do?" Dipper asked. "Last year these guys tried to arrest Stan, and he was still using a fake name back then—so now, the agents could be after Stan or Ford."

"Dial back the pessimism. Right now, they're not after anybody," Bill said. "They're just following up on the eclipse from last week." And a tip about somebody dangerous in the shack. Bill pushed those worries aside. "They don't have any reason to come back!"

"Except the flash drive," Soos said. "Which they know is here. Inside the shack. Cuz they sensed it."

"Right. Yep. Except that," Bill said. "Hey, Dolores—howsabout you whip up one of your special 'welcome to the shack' dinners for them? I'm sure they'd enjoy it just as much as I did."

Dolores nodded thoughtfully. (The tiny sleigh bells on her deely boppers jingles.) "I could," she said. "But what would we do with the bodies?"

"We've got the perfect in-house body disposal! Chop 'em up and feed 'em to the pig."

"Nooo!" Mabel flung her arms protectively over Waddles. He oinked neutrally. "We're not feeding people to Waddles!"

"He'd probably love it!"

"Uh-uh."

"Fine, then the gnomes," Bill said.

Ford said, "Let's call murder 'Plan B.'"

Bill rolled his eye. "All right, smart guy, what's Plan A?"

Ford didn't immediately reply. He paced for another few seconds in the entryway, gathering his thoughts. "There are three ways this could end badly. We have to find a way to prevent all of them," he finally said. "One: the agents discover that there's something under the house and find the portal. Two: the agents remember there's something under the house, and realize they've been brainwashed. Three: the agents retrieve their flash drive, and that reminds them something's under the house."

Stan added, "And if any of those happens, we're both going to jail. Probably Soos too, as an accomplice. Kids might even be in trouble for escaping custody last year." Dipper and Mabel exchanged an alarmed look.

Bill looked at Wendy. "Hey, look who's off the hook." He held up a hand.

"Woo-hoo!" She high-fived him. "We'll visit the rest of you guys in jail."

Mournfully, Mabel asked, "If we get arrested, can you send me crayons?"

"I'll get you one of those boxes with a hundred crayons," Bill said. "And hide a shank in that yellowy green one you never use."

"Thanks."

But if any of those three scenarios came true, that meant government agents crawling all over Bill's portal. Best case scenario, it'd end up halfway across the country in a secret military base. There was tech left in the wreck in the basement that couldn't possibly be synthesized using Earth's current technology, and the Trilazzx Betian ship didn't have backup parts for all of them.

And that wasn't even taking that anonymous tip into account...

"I shouldn't have to go to jail," Ford grumbled. "I wasn't behind the crimes committed in my name, Stanley was."

"Hey," Stan said, "you're the one who impersonated a government agent! Besides, did you really not commit any crimes while building your dumb portal?"

Ford winced. "What's the statute of limitations on burgling radioactive waste?"

"Don't worry, Mothman," Bill called. (Ford self-consciously adjusted his deely boppers, which had paper moths taped to the ends.) "I tossed most of the incriminating evidence in the bottomless pit while you were asleep!"

"Wh— Is that where my lockpicking kit went?!"

"Haha, yeah!" Bill had bought Keyhole's loyalty for the next three hundred years with that.

Wendy waved a hand between Bill and Ford to interrupt their banter. "We can probably keep them from discovering the portal by just not giving them a reason to look behind the vending machine, right?"

"And if we keep them from getting Gompers, they won't get the flash drive," Dipper said.

Mabel said, "What if we put him on a plane to Japan! Do you wanna go to Japan, Gompers?"

Gompers looked at Mabel impassively.

"It's no good," Abuelita said. "It will take weeks to get a passport for the goat."

"Aww."

"There are plenty of ways we can keep their hands off the drive," Ford said. "We could just hide Gompers underground, for instance—there's no way their sensors can reach that far.

Oh no, not when it was clear someone had been down there tinkering with the portal. "Do that and they'll know we did something to hide it! We'll never get rid of them then."

"True," Ford sighed.

Bill said. "I'm most worried about them remembering something on their own. The agents mentioned the portal's gravitational anomalies from last summer—are they remembering something they shouldn't, or did you leave them with those memories?"

Ford hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Stan. Stan shrugged.

"Oh, right. You aren't the expert on how the memory gun operates." Bill rolled his eye toward Wendy. "You see how helpless he is without me around to feed him information?"

"Pshh, shut up. Keep me out of your weird old people academic grudge."

Dryly, Ford said, "Care to enlighten us with your superior knowledge, o god of wisdom?"

No, he really didn't. Not for Ford, anyway. He wouldn't even be grateful for it.

But, under the circumstances—knowing that the agents were after him, too... "Oh, why not," Bill said. "What did you enter in the gun? The exact wording."

Ford frowned, glancing toward the ceiling as he concentrated. "It was... I didn't know exactly how much they knew—I didn't even know which names they knew Stan under—so I tried to make it as broad as possible. I think it said something like 'Pines Household's Secrets'?"

Bill thought that over. "Okay. Okay, yeah, that works. That's perfect, actually—best answer you could have given. You never disappoint, IQ."

Ford was visibly unmoved by the flattery (which was just as well, because Bill had given it out of habit as he slid back into the role of teacher, and had immediately regretted it). "And I suppose you're going to explain why that wording is so important."

"I could," Bill said. "Do you want to know?"

Ford glowered at Bill, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bill stared back, brows arched expectantly. (Wendy looked between the two of them and snorted. Bill pushed her without breaking eye contact with Ford.)

Mabel said, "I wanna know."

"Good enough for me!" Bill hopped from his seat and crossed the living room to a spot where he could address the group more easily. "The memory gun doesn't actually destroy memories, it just severs the connections between those memories and the rest of the brain. Like snipping a squid's tentacles to free it from a squid king."

"What's a squid king?" Soos asked.

"It's like a rat king made of giant squid. It takes at least four to qualify because if their tentacles are knotted in a circle that's just a squid ring," Bill said. "So! Usually you find your own memories by their relationship to other memories. Driving by the grocery store reminds you that you need to go shopping, which reminds you that you're out of straws, which reminds you of when your doctor's eye got gouged out, which reminds you of those vampires in the library, which reminds you of that book you need to return, yadda yadda."

Stan said, "Wait, your doctor got what—?"

"He was fine, he had it coming, and I was nowhere nearby."

"And how's that get you to vampires?!"

"The tangy taste of blood left in your straw. Please hold any other questions to the end!" Bill said. "But, since the memory gun severs a memory from the ones connected to it, you can't be indirectly reminded of it—the chain's been broken. But the memory'sstill there. All it takes is a direct reminder to recall it, and then it starts reattaching to your other memories. Everyone with me so far?" He directed the question in Mabel's direction.

Mabel nodded. Ford opened his mouth to ask a question.

"Great," Bill said. "But! What gets severed is determined by whatever you programmed into the gun. So, for example, if you run into a vampire in the library, then get shot with a memory gun programmed with the word 'Vampires,' there's no more jumping from your doctor to that late book! And you won't remember your vampire encounter if you wander around the library—at most, you might get a sense of deja vu—but you will get back your memory of the whole thing if you run into another vampire!"

He nodded toward Ford. "So 'Pines household's secrets is the best phrase you could've picked. It means they forgot any Pines secrets—including Stanley's criminal record—any household secrets—including the machine in the basement—and since they only forgot the 'secrets,' they can run into anything that isn't secret without recovering their severed memories—like, say, the entire upstairs of the shack."

Slowly, Ford said, "Then that's why they remember last year's gravitational anomalies. The cause is one of our secrets, but the anomalies themselves aren't a secret—they're a matter of public record."

"Bingo," Bill said. "Well! That should be simple enough. Any questions?"

Mabel raised a hand.

Bill pointed at her. "Yes!"

"Are there vampires at the library?"

"Not anymore!"

"Aw."

Dipper asked, "Did you murder your doctor with a straw?"

"I did not and I won't be taking any more questions on the topic, it was a very traumatic experience" for the patient who went in after Bill.

Stan asked, "Why are you wearing a bedsheet for a skirt."

"Because somebody—" Bill shot Soos a dark look, "grabbed all my perfectly clean clothes for laundry day, and left me with a bedsheet and one dirty t-shirt."

Soos chuckled sheepishly. "Whoops. Sorry, dude."

Ford grudgingly raised a hand.

Bill grudgingly said, "What."

"Are squid kings real."

"Yes. As of last summer there were seven with at least fifty giant squid, but two were negotiating a merger so it might be six by now. I haven't had a chance to check!"

"Negotiating a merger? Do—do they combine voluntarily?"

"Oh, sure. In droves. It's a huge honor! The one I'm friends with says the psychic powers are totally worth the eventual zombification—they're ninety percent undead now and haven't regretted it once in five hundred years."

Ford opened his mouth, got stuck between three questions, and didn't manage to settle on one before Abuelita raised a hand.

Bill's attention switched to her. "Yes!"

With an air of patience unwarranted by Bill's actions, Abuelita asked, "Why are you standing on my TV."

Bill looked down. So he was. "This is my lecture podium."

Abuelita's eyes narrowed. Bill cheerfully ignored her. "Any questions about the memory gun?"

There was a general murmured agreement that, no, that part had been pretty clear. Stan snapped, "Now get off the TV."

As Bill hopped down and caught his balance, Wendy said, "So... as long as they don't know any of the shack's secrets and we get the flash drive out of Gompers before they're back, we're cool, right? We can just erase their files and say 'hey, sorry, the goat pooped this out, totally not our fault.' If they don't remember anything, it's not like they've got a reason to keep investigating the shack."

Bill tried to imagine how they'd react if he told them someone had anonymously reported him to the agents. What if they decided scapegoating him could protect the rest of them from the investigation? (And was he sure it wasn't someone in the room who'd reported him?) "Yep! Pretty much! That'd solve our problems!"

"Okay," Wendy said. "Great. So... we're good, right?"

The room studied each other uneasily, everyone waiting for someone else to answer. "Yes," Ford said unconvincingly. "We're good. Er—kids, we need to... discuss the details of... how to handle this. You don't need to stick around." He looked at Stan. Stan gave him a slight nod. (It made the googly eyes on his deely boppers wiggle.)

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Dipper said, "Are you sure? We could..."

"I'm sure. Maybe you should go upstairs," Ford said. "Leave Gompers here."

Mabel sat up straighter, preparing to argue, and glanced toward Bill; but when Bill shrugged rather than ready to defend her, she sighed and poked Dipper. "C'mon." ("Ow." He pushed her finger away from his sunburned arm.) They left reluctantly, Mabel escorting Waddles along with her.

Ford tilted his head toward the door. "That means you too, Miss Corduroy. Hup hup."

Wendy groaned. "Fine." She slid out of her seat and headed for the door. "Hey Goldie, let me know if anything interesting happens."

"You got it, cool girl."

Soos raised a hand. "Am I one of the kids?"

"Not today," Ford said.

"Aw."

Sensing a change in the atmosphere, Abuelita got to her feet. "I will get dinner started." She shuffled out of the room.

Bill waited until the door shut behind Wendy and he was sure the kids were upstairs; and then asked, "So are we kicking the kids out for the reason I think?"

"Afraid so. Now that the government knows the flash drive is here, they'll be back with a warrant as soon as possible. We can't waste any time." Ford knelt next to Gompers and pulled out a scalpel. "Somebody hold the goat down."

"Whoa!" Stan jumped to his feet. His deely bopper googly eyes rattled in alarm. "Were you just carrying that around?!"

Bill was abruptly reminded of one of the reasons he'd liked Ford. He squatted next to him. "All right, I can see where the drive's lodged, I can tell you where to cut—"

"Dudes!" Soos flung himself across Gompers. 'You can't cut him open! He's like part of the family! He's been eating out of the shack's garbage for years, does that mean nothing to you?!" (Gompers attempted to eat the foam lightning bolts off Soos's deely boppers.)

Bill groaned. "Come on, who cares?! It's not like he's a person anymore!"

The room stared at Bill. Stan said, "Did you say 'anymore'?"

Bill paused. "Forget I said that."

Ford sighed. "Fine, we'll try to find a solution without surgery." (But, Bill thought, he sounded a little disappointed.) "But if we're using a slower method, the agents might be back before we can retrieve the flash drive. We need a way to stop them from finding it."

"Or from finding the door behind the vending machine," Soos said. "Now that they know the drive's been here, they're gonna keep looking until they find it! What if they think it might've fallen behind the vending machine or something?"

"What we need is a distraction," Stan said. "Something that'll keep 'em from searching the shack too thoroughly."

"And ideally, something that will keep them from coming back," Ford said. "They keep returning to Gravity Falls because of the power surges and related gravity anomalies in town, correct? Obviously, the meteor shower story wasn't convincing enough. If we give them an explanation that lets them close the case completely..."

Which was all well and good, except they weren't just looking for power surges and gravity hiccups anymore. They thought somebody in the shack was a threat to national security. Bill had kept suspicion away from himself for the day by pretending to be a tourist, but if the eagles got serious, that wouldn't last long. If they were watching the shack, they'd realize Bill was a resident; and if they tried to investigate him at all, they'd quickly realize they couldn't find any legal records of his existence. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Theraprism's reincarnation machine hadn't given him the right skin color to get away with that in this country, especially during a witch hunt for a suspected terrorist.

And, worse—what if they did identify him?

He'd heard Agent Trigger say Soos's alien keychains resembled the "real thing." The Bureau of Covert Investigations didn't tell all its agents about all its cases—but it sounded like these two had been to Hangar 618 at least once.

So had Bill.

Over 60 years ago, a military experiment had accidentally ripped open a very small hole to the Nightmare Realm. Not big enough for Bill to squeeze his full self through (HA! Not even close), but big enough to project a hologram through—something solid enough for the soldiers who'd detected the temporary rift to see and touch. And, naturally, they'd hauled his hologram to Hangar 618—the five-sensed suckers thought the projection was his real body—where they hid all their unidentified fallen objects.

It had been fun! He'd gotten to use all his army name puns (Major Pain, General Disarray, Private Shame, etc.), he'd lived out a centuries-old dream of snorting a line of gunpowder, he'd gotten Commander I-Don't-Even-Know-'Er to sing "On Top of Spaghetti" in exchange for Bill agreeing to leave the artillery room, he'd learned a dirty joke from the nurse brought in to assist with his vivisection, he'd introduced himself to half the base...

He'd introduced himself.

Somewhere, probably in some redacted appendix to Project Blue Book, the US military had a file on Bill Cipher—and so did the eagles. They knew his name. Hell, they even had his thumbprints—obviously alien thumbprints, that he'd retained when he reincarnated. Every object in the shack he'd ever touched carried the proof that he was Bill Cipher.

If whoever had sent the Bureau a tip had mentioned his name... Well, there were a lot of Bills in America, but not a lot using the last name "Cipher." There were probably under fifty living humans who knew about the triangle in Hangar 618, but for those who did, hearing that name resurface in Gravity Falls would blow their gelatinous little minds. He was sure they would love to get their hands on him again. He bet they'd be fascinated to find out how a triangle had fit into a human skin.

Getting hauled into a secret government facility had only been fun when his true self was still in the Nightmare Realm and the part of him in captivity had been a projection made of light, dreams, and lethal doses of radiation. Plus, that had been before he really, truly knew what it was like to be a captive. Now, the thought of being hauled back to that interrogation room—with the cheap metal chairs and gray floor and gray walls and stark sharp light—made him nauseous. The idea of being questioned about himself by some arrogant buzzkill in a suit sounded too much like therapy for comfort.

And it would be so much easier for them to keep him from escaping when he was weighed down by flesh.

Nobody was protecting Bill. The Pines weren't above throwing him under the bus if they thought it might save their precious little family from arrest. There was nothing for it. If he wanted to save himself—he had to help.

"Listen," Bill said. "I have an idea. It's iffy, and it'll require you all to trust me a bit..." He paused to give them an opportunity to laugh.

Only Stan chuckled. Good enough for Bill. "But, it might be our best shot."

"Okay," Ford said warily. "What is it."

"Bear with me," Bill said. "I bet I could get the head agent off our case by flirting with him a little."

And that time they laughed at him.

Bill patiently waited. "Okay, okay, ha ha, but the guy's been leering at me the last two days. Ask Wendy, she's the one who noticed! And do you know what his love life looks like? Because I do. Woof. Dry as a bone. That man's married to his work! He's lonelier than Elvis is!"

"Wait," Ford said. "What does that mean? Where's Elvis?"

"Not important. The point is, he's a soft target, he's already into this—" he gestured disdainfully at his human body, "and he's got the loosest lips in the eagles. I make a little small talk, I compliment his mustache and pretend I think working for the government is attractive, I keep him too dazzled to notice what's right in front of his face..." Bill trailed off. "And... that's as far as I've gotten. We'll figure it out as we go! Maybe I just distract him too much to do his job, maybe I strangle him in the bathroom and sell his body parts to half a dozen inhuman vendors in the Crawlspace, I don't know! I'll improvise!"

"It's barely half a plan," Ford said.

"It's the biggest fraction of a plan we have. What do we have to lose?"

"I think he might be on to something," Stan said. "I mean, consider it. Bill's an objectively beautiful woman."

The room stared at him. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to double his stare.

"What! It's just a fact!"

"Aww, Stan." Bill laced his hands together coquettishly and batted his lashes.

"Save it."

"Stanley. I had no idea you felt that way about me—"

"Can it, Cipher! " Stan curled a fist threateningly. Bill winked at him. Stan shuddered. "Eugh. Physical attraction's only gonna carry you so far, demon! Can you attract a man when you're talking to him? Because personally, I find you less appealing every time you open your mouth—and you were in the negatives the first time we met."

Bill thought about that. Bill thought about all his human cultists. Bill thought about all his human cultists whom he'd caught having scandalous dreams about endless staring eyes and cool black hands that buzzed with static and being fully exposed before the golden glory of an ever-watching false sun. Bill thought about that one time he tried to ask one of his sects to at least invite him to his own wedding and wait for him to RSVP before symbolically marrying more cult novitiates to him and they sorta nodded and said "okay" and then went and wedded him to another dozen Cipherwives anyway. "Yeah! Sure! No problem! I attract humans all the time! They can't get enough of this!"

"Okay, but can you attract a human that isn't into freaky space triangle things?"

Bill tapped his index fingers together thoughtfully. "Ummm..."

####

1981

A clubber eyed the hands of the man sitting at the bar beside him.

The man noticed the look and turned toward the clubber, grinning too wide, staring at him with yellowish slitted eyes that seemed to flash in the dim light like a cat's. "Yeah, I know." He drummed his fingers on the bar top. "Six fingers."

The clubber flinched at being caught staring. "Oh—sorry."

"Don't be! It's a built-in conversation starter!" The six-fingered yellow-eyed man laughed. "Hey! Have you ever had six fingers before?"

"Uhh," the clubber said. "Nnno?"

"Would you like to?" The man winked with both eyes, one at a time.

The clubber frowned at him in confusion, and then slowly turned away without answering.

####

"Sure," Bill cheerfully lied. "No problem!"

####

There was a knock on the attic bedroom door. Mabel opened it.

Stan and Ford stood in the doorway with a sulky Bill in between them. Stan pushed Bill into the room and said, "Teach him how to flirt."

Mabel gasped in delight.

####

(Well that took way later than I wanted it to—but it's finally out.

Head's up, I've got two zine deadlines that take priority, my workload triples at the end of the year, and I'm currently preparing the house to welcome home a new baby*, so we might skip next week's chapter. Hopefully not, though; I'd hate to start the new year that way. We'll see.

*it's a snake. the new baby is a boa constrictor.

Let me know what y'all think! I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts.)

[ariaxco]

masterlist !!

── .✦ how to build confidence when you feel invisible ── .✦ 5 glow-up habits that actually work (no gym, no diet) ── .✦ how to rebuild yourself after falling off ── .✦ romanticize your boring routines ── .✦ why you're still stuck (and how to get unstuck)

── .✦ stop settling for potential ── .✦ they're not ignoring you — you're just not a priority ── .✦ habits that make you unbreakable (mentally & emotionally) ── .✦ signs you're the problem (and how to fix it) ── .✦ your dream life isn’t on sale (stop acting broke) ── .✦ unfollow, block, delete — protect your peace like it’s sacred ── .✦ how to actually glow up mentally (not just look good) ── .✦ self respect hits different when you actually mean it ── .✦ stop rushing: slow glow ups last longer

── .✦ nobody’s coming to save you — good

── .✦ signs you're the toxic friend

── .✦ why you're not glowing up (it's not what you think)

── .✦ why you're still single (it's not what you think)

── .✦ how to know if someone actually likes you

── .✦ how to disappoint people and love it

── .✦ stop trauma bonding with people and calling it love

── .✦ you don't have trust issues, you have boundary issues

── .✦ signs you've outgrown your friend group

── .✦ signs you're healing (and they hate it)

── .✦ how to stop being chronically online

── .✦ why you keep dating emotionally unavailable people

── .✦ how to become genuinely sweet without being a doormat

── .✦ how to make q3 your comeback era

── .✦ you're not healing, you're just talking about healing

── .✦ stop waiting for closure (it's not coming)

── .✦ stop saying "i'm just being honest" when you're being mean

── .✦ how to spot a fake friend

── .✦ how to become the girl who doesn't chase

── .✦ stop being everyone's unpaid therapist

── .✦ workout routine ( mostly abs )

── .✦ why "good vibes only" is toxic

── .✦ why you attract the wrong people (and how to stop)

── .✦ you're not "too much," you're just around the wrong people

── .✦ how to tell if someone is using you

── .✦ how to stop being the "cool girl" who gets used

── .✦ why you attract drama wherever you go

── .✦ stop apologizing for having standards

── .✦ stop romanticizing your trauma and start healing it

── .✦ how to get over someone who moved on before you did

── .✦ making friends in your late teens & 20s: what actually works

── .✦ my 5-week workout schedule ⋆ ౨ৎ˚₊ abs + glutes era

── .✦ how to stop caring what people think

── .✦ stop making excuses for people who don't want you

── .✦ stop self-sabotaging your success and start succeeding

── .✦ you're addicted to potential, not people

── .✦ how to know if you're the problem in your relationships

── .✦ how to stop being everyone's therapist and save your own energy

── .✦ stop trauma dumping on people who didn't sign up for it

── .✦ you're not independent, you're avoidant

── .✦ why you keep attracting narcissists (and how to stop)

── .✦

SUMMER 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ˎˊ˗ how to glow up this summer without losing your mind

ˎˊ˗ the real reason you’re stuck in summer situationships

ˎˊ˗ spf myths (debunked)

ˎˊ˗ how to find your summer style in 3 steps

ˎˊ˗ korean skincare rules that changed my summer glow

ˎˊ˗ glow up tips for broke summers

ˎˊ˗ the truth about tanning this summer

ˎˊ˗ how to make new friends this summer (without being weird)

ˎˊ˗ how to plan the perfect summer trip with your friends

ˎˊ˗ body oil vs lotion: the glow-up nobody talks about

ˎˊ˗ hot girl solitude: how to thrive alone this summer

ˎˊ˗ summer digital detox: stop doomscrolling and actually live your life

ˎˊ˗ goodbye filler friends: how to spend summer with people who actually matter

ˎˊ˗ how to be that girl at the beach without trying too hard

ˎˊ˗ financial glow-up: how to not be broke by september

ˎˊ˗ the summer revenge glow-up: why becoming better is the best revenge

ˎˊ˗ summer seasonal depression is real and you're not broken

FINANCIAL LITERACY ⋆.ೃ࿔*

ᯓ introduction

ᯓ checking vs savings accounts: the difference that's costing you money

ᯓ budgeting with the 50/30/20 rule (actually works for real life)

ᯓ emergency funds: your financial safety net explained

ᯓ credit scores aren't scary when you understand them

ᯓ compound interest is literally free money (and you're missing out)

ᯓ good debt vs bad debt (yes, there's a difference)

ᯓ taxes basics: what you actually need to know

ᯓ investment basics: 401k, ira, index funds explained

ᯓ insurance isn't boring when it saves your bank account

ᯓ high-yield savings vs regular savings (stop leaving money on the table)

ᯓ loans that build wealth vs loans that keep you broke

ᯓ net worth vs income: why you're tracking the wrong number

ᯓ rent vs buy: the math they don't teach you

ᯓ bonds vs stocks: the boring investment that protects your money

ᯓ etfs vs mutual funds: which one should you choose?

ᯓ stock market basics: p/e ratios, dividends, market cap explained

ᯓ dollar-cost averaging + risk tolerance: investing without losing sleep

ᯓ ゛portfolio diversification + roth vs traditional accounts

[fixyourwritinghabits]

The Quick Guide of Taking Care of Yourselves

RIGHT ANYWAY, semi-functioning again. Here's some generic tips for Americans (and beyond) in these trying times.

Limit Your Social Media News Consumption

Seriously, you need to set specific times to be aware of what's going on, and then you need to put down your phone. Many of the things that are happening are beyond your control. Doomscrolling is paralyzing. Do not fall into despair loops. This helps no one and it especially does not help you.

Make a channel in your Discord group for dumping things in and leave it to that. Find ways to plug into your local community - talk to your local library, check your local subreddit, pay attention to local events. But you also must give yourself a break from all of the above for your own mental health.

Pick a set time at night and put down your phone. Don't scroll through it before bed, don't start scrolling the second you get up. Form firm habits that allow you to rest and take care of yourself. It's important to be aware of what's happening, but it does not require your constant attention.

Do Things For Yourself

In addition to making art, it's important to find ways to keep yourself grounded. Take a class you're interested in. Go to that book club. See if there's a local group into that hobby you want to start. Need to brush up on your technical skills? See if there's some online classes that you can take (and get a certificate for!).

Don't over-commit (I say, having signed up for three different activities this year), but it is vital to take time to do things for yourself to stay grounded. Having other things to focus on is going to help. I'm taking a strength-building exercise class and German lessons, and having to focus on squats and gendered nouns for certain hours of the day has been so helpful in keeping me going. Give it a try.

(You don't have to try German, just to be clear. I just think it's a neat language.)

You Do Not Have to Constantly Rearrange Your Priorities

I donate monthly to my local animal shelter. That's still going to be an important thing to do. I reblog things I don't have the funds to contribute to myself. That's still useful to do. I'm still going to pay for my patreon subscriptions, because I am supporting people I like and want to succeed.

There are some things you can do. If you are in a position to cancel Amazon Prime, you should probably do that. But some people can't, because they don't have a more reliable way to get certain necessities, and that's fine. If you're in a position to close your Meta accounts, that seems like a good call. However, while I've currently got mine locked down, I need my Instagram for professional reasons, and it's my only point of contact for certain people. I hate it, but I've made the decision to keep using it. There's no morally perfect options out there.

Think Local and Connect with Community

You cannot do anything about most of the terrible things happening. You can, however, make connections to the people around you and find ways to support yourself and others. You can find places to volunteer. You can participate in your local political groups and keep up-to-date on protests and political action. You can keep pressure on your local politicians with phone-calling and letter campaigns. Making connections to others will help you find ways to feel useful and help, even if it doesn't feel like you can.

Most importantly, though, MAKE SURE YOU ARE SAFE. If you're a vulnerable minority in a deep red state or desperately need to keep your head down at your job, you need to make decisions that are best for you. You cannot help others if you yourself are also drowning, and that is okay.

There are still some small things everyone can do. Boycotts of certain products and companies (shout-out to all of Canada, keep it up and I hope for nothing but the best for y'all) is something you can do that doesn't put you at risk. Stay connected to like-minded friends. Stock up on masks and get your vaccines. Have an emergency-prepared plan in cases of natural disasters (always a good plan).

Hang in there. Sometimes you'll spiral, everyone will. But keeping your head above water and building steps to pull yourself up from those holes will be essential.

[studiogrimm810]

Spring Cleaning

pairings/characters: (established) dean winchester x plus size!afab!you, sam is barely there

summary: a tiring day of helping dean clean up the impala has left you exhausted, sensitive, and self-critical. especially after finding something from dean’s bachelor days

warnings: sexual suggestions, mentions of porn, self-image issues, paranoia from past relationships, past enemies-to-lovers vibes

word count: 3,293

A/N: this was (kinda) a request!! based on the comments of a sam fic i posted a but ago from @aryaharmon and @bejeweledinterludes , i hope you enjoy this one <3

———————

Spring cleaning. Something that Dean never took into account until you mentioned it and damn did Baby need it. Dean is a man who prides himself on his car, he makes sure to keep her in mint condition on the outside and the inside. Well, by the inside he means the engine. The back seat, however, stays a cluttered mess of a tipped over trash can- Sam’s attempt at getting Dean to keep things tidy- some old newspapers, plastic bags from gas station stops, and too many receipts.

At least Dean is picky about food in the car, his issue is mainly simple discarded dry goods.

Now, ever since you’ve made a habit of hunting with the boys and leaving your car behind, you’ve been on him about cleaning it up so it isn't so crowded. Well today’s the day.

It’s a wonderfully sunny, but not too hot, day. Birds are chirping, wind is rustling through trees, and milky clouds puff through the sky for occasional shade. The perfect day for outdoor labor.

Dean pulled the car out of the garage of the bunker, wanting to also give Baby a good wash and wax.

“It’s a damn fine day,” Dean squints out at the sky, shading his eyes from the sun. He leans back into the car and gets a pair of sunglasses, slipping them on and looking around the area.

“Perfect,” you say, throwing your hair up into a ponytail. “Get motivated, cause Baby here’s gonna get a spa day.”

Dean smirks at you, watching as you pull back your hair and adjust your sports bra. He was very fond of the outfits you would favorite on a warm, stay-at-home day because lately it's been a tight-fitting sports bra and loose shorts that ride high on your waist and frame your ass into a perfect heart.

If you’re being honest, you just feel lucky enough to not worry about any derogatory comments from a man you’re dating like you’ve been used to in the past. You’re a quite confident woman and you like to be comfortable even at the expense of your own modesty, but sometimes so much exposed skin can bother you. Especially when you start to sweat.

“Let’s get some music goin’!” Dean pumps, grabbing a radio from inside the garage and positioning it so that the speakers flow towards the car.

“You actually gonna let me play something other than the hair rock or death metal or whatever it is you love?” You ask with a thoughtless head tilt and your hands on your hips. You like winding him up about his music.

“I’m not even gonna explain how wrong you are,” Dean rolls his eyes, pressing some buttons on the stereo and it soon blasts some familiar tracks.

“Oh, right. I forgot, you prefer the term ‘divorced dad rock’,” you nod with an understanding smile and he looks back up at you with a serious face that makes you cackle. He starts to walk towards you and you hold out your hands. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry,” you defend in a surprised shriek between giggles, “just don’t come any closer.”

His lips twitch in a betraying smile as he continues forward, lifting you up and starting to lecture you on the proper and preferred terminology that you’ll never remember. He places you on the hood of the Impala, keeping your legs locked around his waist so you have nowhere to go.

“And then, in the 80s-.”

“Dean!” You interrupt, slapping his chest, “put me down.” Your laughter ripples away softly, stomach sore and cheeks stiff from smiling. He throws his head back with a groan, like a child, and mutters a pouty ‘fine’ before kissing your nose and letting you have your ability to walk back.

You straighten up your clothes, shorts having bundled up from the positions you were lifted in, and Dean gives you a knowing wink.

Music plays and conversation flows. At one point, Sam comes out with a couple of beers and offers his help but Dean waves him off and just requests that Sam handles something for lunch.

After Sam retreated back inside, you slid on the floor of the back seat to pull any lost items from under the front bench. It was a majority of discarded empty gum wrappers, straw wrappers, and a few pens Sam must’ve lost. But there was one larger piece of… something reflective. You strain to reach it from under the driver's side and upon contact, you can tell it’s a magazine. You pull it out, ready to toss the item in the trash but once you catch a glimpse of the cover, your face pales in embarrassment.

Embarrassment? Really?

That reaction didn’t make sense to you at all but it was absolutely what you were feeling as you looked at the crinkled cover of ‘Busty Asian Beauties’.

You know Dean, you have for a while, and you know that this is his go-to skin mag- hell, you’ve heard him and Charlie boast once or twice about some of the women in this thing- but you couldn’t grasp why it was embarrassing to see. You cleared your throat and climbed out of the Impala.

“Lose somethin’?” You ask, squinting from the sun and tossing Dean the magazine. He catches it and looks it over with a raised brow, moving up his sunglasses to his head. You anxiously wait for his reaction, trying to anticipate if your misunderstood embarrassment will evolve to anger or insecurity. Then he tosses it in the trash with a disinterested shrug, sauntering over to you and wetting his lip.

“Not even a little bit, baby, I got all I need right here,” he looks at your lip and pulls you in by your hips to kiss you gingerly, his thumb caressing your bare abdomen.

Okay, totally not what you had expected. Dean had been flirtatious with you since you two met and you honestly used to somewhat despise him for it. You saw him as a womanizer who would drool over anyone kind enough to show him some skin. You knew the kind of guy he could be and that was honestly the main reason you brushed off his advances for so long, you seriously thought he just flirted with everyone. But you took a chance on him and have been cautious ever since, keeping an eye out for a moment like what could have just been.

But instead he skimmed over the cover like it was a shoe with gum stuck to it and threw it away.

You smile into the kiss, a small but loaded smile that is more relief than anything. The embarrassment starts to fizzle away as he pulls away.

“Now let's get the hose,” he says with a devious glint.

Dean has an abundant array of products in the garage to freshen up Baby with- and he has the nerve to diss Sam for his conditioner- that you don’t really know what to grab. So you just go based on color. A red here, purple spray there, oh, and a cool-looking neon green that’s really syrupy.

By the look on Dean’s face once you return, you’d reckon you just slashed all of Baby’s tires and carved a slur in her hood.

“What?” You ask, already ruffled by his dramatic attitude at the products in your hands.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head and walks with purpose to snatch the items back and go to collect the right assortment.

You stifle a laugh as he grumbles something about ‘not teaching you good enough’ and how he has to change that.

He returns with a completely different set of products but you see that he’s kept the green so you lose the attitude a tad.

“These are for the summer. The heat, rain, humidity. The shit you brought over was basically redundant chemicals that will speed up the rusting process,” he looks up at you with raised brows to make sure you’re taking him seriously. You pinch your lips together to not laugh and even frown a bit to help prevent the humor tickling your muscles into a smirk.

“We start with this,” he places some hot pink bottle that looks good enough to drink in front of you that reads ‘Classic Suds’. He then hands you a bucket and a rag. “Let’s get to it.”

Dean instructs how much soap to fill and how to suds it up with the hose. He even hands you a ‘special tool’ that's just a fancier sponge for the tires and only the tires. You have to repeat it to him three times before he can trust you won't use it on the paint.

More music is played and then lunch is eaten and soon enough it’s time to wash away the suds that Dean wanted to sit while the trio ate.

Sam retreated back inside to take care of some other chores and Dean hosed Baby down. You made the unfortunate decision to stand in Dean’s line of sight because before you can even register his pause, you’re doused in warm water that sprays over you effortlessly like a handheld sink faucet.

“Hey!” You scream, trying to stop the water with your hands but you’re already beyond soaked.

Dean laughs, but tries to play it off, “ya just looked like you needed a refresh,” he shrugs with wide eyes like ‘what else could I have possibly done?’.

“You dick,” you laugh in pure shock and a little anger. You dart at him and he dashes away, spraying you to try and get you to stop. You don’t let up, and you’re half tempted to dump the bucket of soap and grime on him but you know he’ll then just try to hug you with it.

The chase halts as both of you are on complete opposite sides of the Impala. You’re both panting and staring right at each other.

“Dean, I swear to god,” you huff, wiping some soaked strands of hair away from your forehead. You feel like a wet cat, all raggedy and gross, and you’re now aware of how little your clothes do for you as the fabric of your shorts cling to your hips and your sports bra has been turned sheer from the water.

“What?”

You don’t know.

You’re just flustered now and cold and want to dunk him in an ice bath as a repercussion. You sigh in frustration, looking down and seeing the ‘special’ sponge from earlier. You scoff, picking it up and showing him. His face falls and he points at you.

“Put that down! She has no part in this,” Dean warns.

“Your turn,” you shrug, “take it off,” you tick your head to his flannel and jeans. He glares at you. “I’m half naked and soaked, it’s your turn.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he says with a playful wink, turning your comment dirtier than you intended. You scoff with a smile you can’t stop from forming, you try to move your tongue along the inside of your cheek to prevent it, but it's no use. You bring the sponge closer to Baby. “Okay! Jesus, fine,” he rolls his eyes, unbuttoning his flannel and ripping off his jeans next. While he stripped, you walked over slowly and snatched the hose just in time for him to be to late to grab it back.

“Redemption, Winchester,” you say before blasting him with water like he did you. He initially flinches at the brust right at his face but inevitably just stands and takes it, opening his eyes once the stream stops. He deadpans at you, spitting out some water off to the side and then back at you.

“Happy?” He asks. Despite his resting bitchface of annoyance, he does really hope you are.

“Very,” you nod with a happy smile.

———

Baby sits pretty and shiny in her designated spot in the garage while Dean puts everything away and you let the sun dry up the last bit of your clothes.

It’s warm as the sun's rays kiss your skin while you bask in a reclined patio chair. Dean comes back but you don’t open your eyes yet.

“You’re gonna get a weird tanline if you don’t take those off,” he refers to the sunglasses of his you stole.

“Just a few more minutes,” you sigh, enjoying every ounce of Vitamin D your skin can soak up.

“Right, well, I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t get burnt to a crisp,” he leans over to kiss your forehead before walking back through the garage. You sneak a peek at the way his damp boxers hug his ass mighty fine.

Long enough time passes and you know you’ll either have to flip over for an even tan or head inside soon and get cleaned up. You settle for the latter, knowing you’ll most likely fall asleep out here if you relax too much more.

Inside of the bunker is a dark contrast due to the transition from being outside most of the day, but your vision fades back soon enough. You hear Sam and Dean talking in the library, but you head straight to yours and Dean’s shared room. You haven’t ‘officially’ moved in exactly but, due to the hunting lifestyle, you were technically homeless, so you let Dean’s offer to share a room speak for itself.

You grab your bag with simple necessities from a chair in the room and go to the bathroom, setting the bag on the counter and looking at your reflection.

Good lord.

Your hair is a frizzy mess, ponytail retightened so many times causing little bubbles along your scalp. You cringe. Your skin is flushed from the sun and work out of the task of the day and your bra has shifted on your torso. You look a mess.

Embarrassment. It’s coming back and you hate it. You don’t understand it, but the thought of Dean seeing you like this makes you wanna hide and cry and you can’t believe you’ve just gone all day like this.

It makes no sense. Any man you've been with before who’s even had something to say about your appearance, you've just told them to hit the road and turned on your heel, but the fear you feel of Dean finding something physically wrong with you makes you sick.

Scared. It makes you scared. Like you’re scared to lose him.

Embarrassed that you don’t look like the women he’s lusted after all his life and scared that he’ll realize that and you’ll lose him just like you've lost every other man you’ve dated.

You sigh, almost groan, at the churn of emotions in your chest but you try to shove it away and focus on a shower. Maybe if you look nicer you’ll feel better- you’ll get your confidence back.

But the universe hates you today so instead Dean enters the room and sees you in the bathroom.

“Hey, you’re alive,” he teases, walking over to hold you but you pretend not to see him reach for you and side-step to look through your bag. His face falls a bit out of confusion but he doesn't comment. “I think I’m in need of another shower, might have to join ya,” he winks but you don’t look up as you pull out some needed items.

“That’s okay, I’ll just be quick,” you brush off, taking down your hair and brushing it out, still avoiding his gaze.

He’s quiet and shuffles around a bit.

“Hey,” his hand reaches out to stop you brushing. “What’s wrong?” He asks, completely confused but concerned with your tone switch. He had one of the most fun days of his life but you’re not reflective of that earlier joy at all.

“Just tired. The sun drained me,” you finally meet his eyes and attempt a smile but he gives you a look that tells you he knows you’re just bullshitting him.

You’re stubborn and stay quiet.

“Is it the magazine?” He asks with a slight wince. “Cause I promise that’s old, I mean that was early edition old,” he defends but then realizes knowing the specifics of the magazine from just a glance isn’t helping his case. “I swear, sweetheart, you’re more than all I need,” he says with a slight head shake like he’s completely lovesick and trying to portray such.

You still stay quiet, looking off to the side and catching a glimpse of your unflattering and slouched posture in the mirror. You sigh and screw your eyes shut, turning away and leaning against the counter.

“Baby,” he beckons, coming to stand in front of you and push some messy hair back, “talk to me.”

Tears sting your eyes and your heart is racing, this fucking sucks.

“I’m just a mess,” you almost whisper from emotional exhaustion. Today really has drained you, that wasn’t a lie. Dean can tell you’re speaking as the words come so he doesn’t interrupt, he just wipes away a tear as it falls and tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him that this is his fault.

“My hair is everywhere, my clothes are all bundled up and I’m sweaty and just feel gross,” you sigh, dropping your head into your hands. “It’s just hard being reminded how not your type I am.”

He stiffens a bit and his hold even slacks. You feel absolutely ridiculous. If it wasn’t your looks that was gonna make him run, then it would surely be your whining about them.

“Who said you aren’t my type?” He asks, peeved that someone actually had told you that. His hands rest on your shoulders as he waits.

“No one,” you mumbled. Embarrassed.

That makes him feel even worse- that you had just assumed what you said was true. What had he done to lead you to that conclusion?

“Look at me,” he requests, keeping his hands where they are. When you fall mute, he gently grabs your wrists and waits for you to lift up and look at him. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” He asks but you just look off to the side.

He sighs softly and spins you around to face the mirror.

“I see…” he runs his hands over your waist until they rest right on your tummy. “Messy hair and flushed cheeks that remind me of how good you let me please you, and beautiful hips that can’t even be properly contained by some simple shorts,” he reaches back and grabs your ass gently with a smirk, pressing you into the counter just a bit.

He kisses your neck and looks back ahead, “I see comfortable worn clothes that make you look at home- happy and safe,” he enunciates with a serious and vulnerable look.

“I see a woman who is confident in her own skin and knows how good she really looks even if she doesn’t always feel it.” He hugs you from behind fully, kissing your temple, “I see a woman who just spent a perfectly good day with me to help me clean out my car and is beat because the sun has drained her. And most importantly, I see a woman who needs to be taken care of,” he whispers the last sentence in your ear, kissing quietly and reaching to lift your bra off over your shoulders. Then he turns you back around, kneeling in front of you as he slips down your shorts.

His hands go to grab the meat of your thighs and he looks up at you- vulnerable and yearning, like he’s just begging you to give him the ‘okay’ to touch you how he needs to.

“I see goddamn perfection.”

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

>tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere @bejeweledinterludes @funkenniffler

[motherearthlovesus]

theo nott surprises you in the prefect bathroom 🛁

ft. mattheo riddle | warning: bad italian | fluffy smut

You had the prefects' bathroom all to yourself—finally a moment of peace after a long, exhausting day. The warm water and lavender bubbles gave you the perfect escape. It had you sinking down into the bath, closing your eyes and letting the heat relax your muscles. You rubbed the water over your skin, lightly massaging your muscles wherever they begged for attention.

You were so heavily shrouded in bubbles and so utterly content that it did not occur to you to open your eyes. Even when the door creaked open. You didn’t open them despite the shuffling shoes and the clothes hitting the floor. It wasn’t until you heard the soft splash of legs climbing down into water that your eyes fluttered open.

“Didn’t mean to disturb you dormigliona sleepy” a husky voiced teased.

You could’ve picked out that voice in a hall full of people. Theodore. You were surprised and confused as to why he was here, talking to you.

You attempted to casually open your eyes, not quite sure how believable it was.

“You shouldn’t be here Theo” You gathered even more bubbles around you, struggling to avert his gaze.

“You don’t have to cover up on my account, you seemed so relaxed when I arrived”

"Theo," you snapped, mustering up the courage to look in his eyes. “Get out. Now."

"Come on, I need to bathe too” His voice was full of amusement, and his eyes raked over you shamelessly.

You huffed, annoyed at his audacity. "This bathroom is for prefects only, and last time I checked, you’re not one."

Theo started to walk across the monstrous bath.

"You always act so proper," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "but I know you’re curious."

His fingers tapped the surface of the water, creating small waves that caused the bubbles keeping you covered to start waving.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as his words hung in the air. Theo’s presence was magnetic, and no matter how many times you told yourself to stay calm, the irregular rhythm of your heartbeat seemed to betray you.

“I’m not curious,” you lied, eyes narrowing as he inched closer.

You pressed your back against the edge of the tub, trying to cool yourself down. "You really should leave Theo, you’ll get in trouble."

“That’s what makes it fun, principessa”

You huffed, turning your head away to hide the way your cheeks flushed at his words. “This isn’t a game, Theo. What if someone walks in?”

“Then we’ll just have to make it worth their while,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You could see the challenge dancing in his eyes, urging you to give in. “Theo—” you started, but the protest faltered.

You told yourself that the heat must’ve gone to your head because each step he took towards you had your legs opening up just a little bit more.

His hand dipped into the water, breaking the surface tension, and your breath hitched as his fingers grazed your knee. His fingers were slowly trailing up your thigh. The higher he went the redder you felt your face get. A moan slipped out just as his thumb had just reached the top of your thigh. As you tipped your head back, bracing yourself for whatever came next, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room. In a panic you squealed and pushed Theo away causing the water around you to slosh everywhere.

“Well, what do we have here?” Mattheo teased, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed with that trademark smirk of his. “Didn’t expect to find this in the prefects’ bathroom. Mind if I join?”

“You shouldn’t have expected anything in here; you’re not a prefect,” you shot back, trying to maintain your composure.

“Well then what is he doing here?” Mattheo nodded his head towards Theo.

“I-“ The ridiculous situation you found yourself in had you at a loss for words.

Theo narrowed his eyes, stepping protectively in front of you. “Why don’t you take your charming self elsewhere, Mattheo?”

“Relax, Theo,” he said with a playful roll of his eyes. “I’m just trying to make new friends. Right, love?” He turned to you, winking.

Theo grabbed a towel from the edge of the bath and wrapped it around himself as he stepped out of the bath to stand in front of Mattheo. Theo grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

“C’mon, man. Let’s leave the lady to her bath,” Theo said, giving Mattheo a pointed look before turning back to you “I’m sure she will find a way to finish what I started”.

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reblogs are greatly appreciated

literally been so tired i wrote this in a haze maybe thats why i've been thinking about baths also why do i title my works like pornos?