#and also to be able to get back to work on other things

[baepsays]

Musician Geto Suguru and his never-ending beef with his bandmates over your attention.

The thing is, as their main producer and just a very sought-after producer in the industry, he's barely able to leave his studio. Things were different before the scandal, before he was reintroduced to you, and before you two went official. His schedule was simple then—studio, recordings, shows, parties and clubs he was a regular at, getting high out of his mind on coke and weed, and going back to his studio. He barely saw any light, and his apartment felt foreign; hotel rooms were more homely than his apartment. Now it's lived in, with traces of you and the life he is building with you. Your—and now also his—scoundrel cat's claw marks are everywhere; there are stains on the couch, and all the smooth and shiny furniture is now matted. He also prefers his home studio, which he never came around to using, much better than the one at the company.

To simply say, things are mundane in the best way possible. Having lunches and dinners with his bandmates and just talking about things other than work or how he's losing himself was much more fun, he has to say. Especially when no one is throwing punches at him backstage, ahem—Sukuna—ahem. Of course it took more effort to carve out this new usual than how he used to just live off of drugs, caffeine, burning through cigarettes, and barely any food. He much prefers the boring days where he just goes from work to home to see you only at the end of the day, of course, not more than when you come to their shows. But he'll take anything, just to have you around for more than the mornings before and nights after work; it's a privilege. Even having you for more than just 3 shows for a tour is a blessing, due to the vast difference in your schedules.

Which is why he truly looks forward to days when you drop by to have lunch with him. Those weekdays are always a highlight of his week. So when he has to compete with his own bandmates for your attention or the home-cooked lunch you make for him to eat with him in the privacy of his studio, preferably sitting on his lap.

He wants to fight his own bandmates as violently as he used to. Choso, he gets; after all, Choso is the sweetest of them all; it sometimes does not make any sense to him how he ended up in this edgy rock band. But then again, where was Suguru going to find a vocalist and guitarist of Choso’s caliber? Yet still, Suguru does not appreciate it when he takes up your time when you two exchange recipes. Then there is Toji, always barging in to steal the precious food you made for Suguru, eating up most of the food while always making excuses about just one small bite. Suguru would have made Shiu (their CEO) kick Toji out of the company itself, just because of this petty reason, if there was anyone else better on the drums than him. 

Then there is Sukuna. Probably the one who pisses him off the most. Because why is the broody, scary, and one of the quietest men that Suguru knows like a social butterfly around you? Sure, you legally represent their band, but why is he so chatty around you about everything and anything? Is it not enough that he has to deal with one social butterfly, aka the nation's most desirable man and industry's favorite actor, Gojo Satoru, snitching out Suguru to you? There's now also Sukuna, snitching to you about how Suguru skipped meals to hole himself up in his studio for days or smoked more than two cigarettes a day. The worst part is when you drop by, you text in the group chat you are in with them to see if they would be at work that day. And you bring extra food for them or invite them sometimes to eat out with you two (and yet Toji still manages to steal off of Suguru's plate), and if it's just a you and Suguru kind of day, you still see them before or after your boyfriend locks you up in his studio with him.

Just like today, when you dropped by with a packed lunchbox for him and got roped up, yet again, with his bandmates. He got your text at exactly 13:34 PM that you entered the building, and sure, his studio was on the 19th floor, but it took only 5 minutes or so to get there. Unfortunately for him, he had to wait more than 30 minutes for you because you texted him you were just a floor below, in their practice room with his bandmates. And when 40 minutes were about to pass, Suguru had to essentially go down and abduct you by carrying you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and making a run for it with your bag in his other hand. He could hear Sukuna yelling his name from behind, but he made it just in time to the elevator to get away with you.

“The only reason why I will ever go fully solo is because of your little fan club.” He walked into his studio while grumbling and with you still dangling on his shoulder.

“Issok, I will replace you.” He threw you on the black leather couch and lay on top of you, like he just fought an army of hungry coyotes and ran a marathon at the same time. “Hmm, I see you guys are scheming behind my back now.” He looked up at you from where he buried his face in your chest.

“I say it's very up front.” You giggled and pushed away the loose strands of his hair covering his face, and he didn't reply. Instead, he lifted himself off of you to hover and then moved up to kiss you. It was sweet, smiling, warm faces basically pressed together. Everything still feels surreal, how mundane life is right now for him considering even just two years ago the kind of mess he got himself into. That how his life looked doomed after that moment, and yet here he was.

“I have this new track in the works.” He broke off the kiss and hovered over you with his hooded eyes and a smirk so sleazy, it always made you wonder about your life choices. “Oh, am I hearing it?” You raised your brows at him, and his smirk only widened into a half smile.

“Nope. You're getting on it.” Which basically translates to, ‘I am about to make you moan, and the recording is going into the track.’ You threw your head back into the couch as you tried to push him away and groaned in annoyance. Which was not much avail to you when, despite your efforts, he nuzzled his face in your neck and started leaving a trail of kisses from the base of your neck to your jaw, then up to your lips. And when his lips met yours, a small moan just absentmindedly left your lips as his lips slotted with yours. Suguru’s lips stretched into a big smile while his eyes remained closed, and he continued kissing you until he stopped to murmur into your mouth.

“Ooh. Save all of that for the track.”

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE II FIND MORE ABOUT MUSICIAN GETO

a/n: dividers by @/hyuneskkami

you can think about this as the epilogue to the musician geto au :3c which will take time. I have not graduated yet lol fuck lab exams and i am brainrotted by prince geto soooooo. you can assume what the scandal may beeeee you will be finding that and more band dynamics in the fic!

[holdinsteddie]

prompt: lollipop

(originally posted on my bluesky here)

au where Steve and Robin had their bathroom floor conversation/platonic soulmate initiation ceremony way back in 1983, like two weeks after Jonathan rocked Steve’s shit and by the time everyone gets back from winter break they’ve become SteveandRobin.

Steve knows all about Robin’s crush on Tammy Thompson and Robin knows all about the fact that Steve thinks one Eddie Munson is really pretty, actually, when he’s not being a grubby little gremlin.

In this au, Steve and Nancy mutually broke it off after the whole monster-fighting thing and so for the next few months after break, SteveandRobin try to wingman each other but also the ‘you rule/you suck’ board makes an appearance, this time in an unused corner of the band room.

So far Steve hasn’t gotten a single tally in the ‘you rule’ column. He is deeply offended by this and is trying to figure out why he seems to have lost his mojo. He needs to prove to Robin that he is very suave, actually, and no, his reputation is not a fluke. Jesus.

Which leads us to a Thursday evening in late May where band practice is getting out at the same time as Hellfire club. Steve suddenly finds himself being possessed by the ghost of Casanova himself or something because the next thing he knows, he’s abandoning Robin with a quick “be right back” and swaggering up to Eddie, who eyes Steve warily before leaning up against the side of the school building with a smirk paired with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve starts, keeping it causal.

Eddie pulls the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth with a wet pop and Steve fervently doesn’t have any feelings about that whatsoever.

“Steve Harrington,” he purrs. “What can this lowly peasant do for such esteemed royalty as yourself, hmm?”

Steve raises a single eyebrow. “Well, first of all, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly Hawkins High royalty anymore. Apparently jocks and band geeks can’t be friends,” Steve adds with a roll of his eyes.

“Second of all…” Steve glances left and right, making sure there’s no one in earshot before giving Eddie a once-over and taking a deliberate step forward so the toes of their shoes are almost touching. “I think we both know you’re too pretty and too smart to be stuck as a peasant.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide for a moment before narrowing, his dimpled grin somehow managing to be sharp as a knife. “Careful, big boy. You don’t wanna play this game.”

“Who says this is a game?”

Eddie scoffs, putting his lollipop back in his mouth and straightening like he’s going to move past Steve, but Steve stops him with a hand to the wall behind Eddie’s head.

He makes sure to leave enough room for Eddie to be able to walk away if he really wants to, doesn’t want him to feel trapped or pressured in any way. But he also wants Eddie to know he’s being serious.

“Look, you can tell me to fuck off if you really want, and I will, swear to god.”

Eddie stares at him with wide eyes and slowly nods his head.

“But I really hope you don’t,” Steve continues, leaning forward until their noses are just inches from touching, “because it turns out I really have a thing for curly-headed nerds.”

Steve relishes in the way Eddie’s jaw drops open and a blush works its way over his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. It’s really fucking cute.

“I know I can’t exactly wine-and-dine you like if you were a girl, but maybe I could get us some pizza and beers and you could come over to my place one of these days?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, trying to only let a little bit of his excitement at the idea through — he doesn’t want to scare Eddie off.

Eddie stares for a moment, two. Eventually, he blurts, “Is— Is this— Are you being serious right now?” He hadn’t bothered to take out the lollipop before speaking, seems like he’s completely frozen, actually, making the question slightly garbled.

“As a heart attack.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“So?” Steve asks, biting his lower lip. He watches Eddie track the movement and gives himself a mental high-five.

“I’m— fuck, okay.” Eddie looks at Steve’s lips again before looking into his eyes incredulously. “I’m pretty sure this is a dream, but whatever, fuck it, I’ll go on a date with Steve goddamn Harrington, I guess.”

“Not dreaming,” Steve grins, finally leaning back a little bit. “And I’m gonna hold you to that,” he promises. On a whim, he reaches out and plucks Eddie’s lollipop from between his lips before placing it in his own mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact the entire time. Eddie’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he visibly swallows.

“Uh.”

“I’ll find you at lunch tomorrow, figure out what day works,” Steve says casually, leaning back and starting to walk backwards towards the parking lot. He points the lollipop at Eddie and commands, “Better not stand me up, Munson,” before putting it back in his mouth, shoving his hands in his pockets, and turning to walk back to where Robin is waiting by his car.

He doesn’t look back, even though he really really wants to, because he still wants to make sure he looks cool and aloof.

“Steven Marie,” Robin whisper yells once he’s close enough to hear her. “What the fuck was that? What did you do to Munson?”

Steve ignores her questions. “What’s he doing, Bobbie?”

Robin, bless her, answers him. “He’s just… standing there. And now he’s pulling his hair over his face and squatting. Did you break him?”

Steve grins, pleased. “Not yet.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Wait, where did you get the lollipop? You didn’t have one a few minutes ago.”

“I might’ve stolen it from Munson, right after I got him to agree to go on a date with me.”

Robin freezes, staring at him like she’s buffering as her entire worldview gets rearranged. “Steve, Stevie, I need you to know I’m so happy for you and proud of you. But also I am going to actually strangle you to death in your sleep what the actual fuck.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

+ Bonus:

Steve, 5 min later after he’s started driving to drop Robin off at home: ohmygod. Robin.

Robin: What.

Steve: Eddie and I basically kissed.

Robin: What?????

Steve: His spit is in my mouth as we speak.

Robin: wHAT??!!!?!!!

Steve: Robin stop screaming I’m having a crisis

{send me a 📝 and a one-word prompt and i will try and write a lil steddie microfic for you! (it will almost certainly be much shorter than this one but who knows, i might get Inspired™️)}

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, idiot friends to lovers, not exactly a meet cute because they already know each other but it's also not not a naughty little meet cute if you get me, face sitting, 69 just not in the way you might think(yet), lots of horny flirting, mentions of blood, minor injury and one tiny meta reference I couldn't help but slip in. WC: 2K

Say what you will about Carol Perkins but the girl's got one hell of an arm. You stare with simmering contempt in your eyes at your purse wedged between the branches of an old, towering hickory several many feet above your head.

You're not surprised by it though. You expected some kind of retaliation after your little spat when you caught her trying to shoplift lip gloss at the cosmetics counter you worked at.

Word travelled fast after that, everyone snickering about how she tried to pull a Winona. Unfortunately for you, the incident wasn't enough to make her swear off five finger discounts. Her sticky little fingers managed to get hold of your purse when you had your back turned for only a few seconds the next day, a crudely scrawled note left behind which read, Come to the woods behind the school if you want your knock off Gucci back.

So you went there anticipating some fight club type of shit to go down. You really couldn't rule that out with a person like Carol, an old school bully to many who went to Hawkins High, especially those unlucky enough to have actually felt the fiery sting of her open palm against their cheek.

Only you were kind of looking forward to this meeting. Now a graduate and a little fired up yourself, you didn't need to worry about anything like a potential expulsion if you were to strike her back, fixing the rings on your fingers so that if you needed to, you could scratch open her chin when you uppercut the bitch.

But Carol wasn't there, a little to your disappointment. Only her handiwork left behind for you to deal with.

So now here you were, a crackling carpet of brittle yellowed and browned leaves crunching under your converse as you try to figure out the best way to go about retrieving your purse, hoping she hadn't also swiped any of the money inside it.

Looking around, you can't seem to spot a stick long enough to try and dislodge it, all of them far too short and skinny like bony witch fingers. The few rocks you try to aim at the thing missed every time too, purse still firmly in place.

So, you knew what needed to be done.

It's been a while since you last scaled a tree but you haven't forgotten how, hiking the skirt of your flared midi dress higher up your thighs while you reach for the closest branch, dry bark crumbling in your palms.

You're as careful as can be, taking your time to test every branch before you bear your full weight down on it, winding your way higher and higher up the thick gray trunk as you remind yourself to not look down.

Sweat beads down your back making your dress stick to your skin and your hands began to feel raw halfway through the climb so the relief you feel when you finally reach your purse is immense. Freeing one hand to pop open the clasp, you're able to confirm that Carol had in fact pinched a 50 which you very much intend to get back with interest before you toss her purse into the middle of lovers lake.

Clamping your teeth down on your purse, you begin your descent, following the exact path you took to get up it only you make it just a few inches lower when you hear a distinct dry snap followed by the shifty sound of footsteps. Two sets of footsteps making their way through the fallen leaves in fact.

Quietly, you sit yourself down on a thick branch that looks strong enough to hold you up, your legs dangling as you try to remain hidden behind the greener leaves yet to turn a shriveled yellow and break off from its branches. The thought of being caught like this is something you're not keen on. Especially at the risk of giving whoever it is an unobstructed up skirt view of your panties.

You hold your breath until they comes into view, recognition dawning on you when you set your eyes on the familiar combo of leather and denim and a very distinct tumbleweed of wild hair.

Eddie Munson, your old classmate and some letter jacket meat slab following in tow. The two of them sit across from each other at the formerly vacant wooden table and bench below, the tinny sound of Eddie's lunchbox echoing all the way up to your ears when he sets it down between them.

You watch quietly and closely at them going back and forth when Eddie quotes his price for a considerably large portion of the devil's lettuce all wrapped up in a thin, flimsy little plastic bag, a little amused seeing him all business and no jokes or smiles. There must be a party happening tonight, you deduce, that much weed too much for just the one person, even for a guy as big and hulking as Eddie's new customer.

The meat slab is the first to leave after digging through his pockets for a few extra dollars until Eddie hands him the stuff, trudging away through the crisp layer of dried up leaves until his footsteps turn muffled and then completely silent to let you know that he's no longer in the woods.

Eddie lingers for a few moments, apparently in no kind of rush as he takes his time closing up the lunch box, pulling out a cigarette and lighter as he gets up from the bench, just about to pass by your tree when-

crack!

The branch you'd perched yourself on wasn't as strong as you thought it to be when it snaps, a choked scream stuck in your throat with your teeth still wrapped around your purse when you lose your balance, your eyes squeezing shut as you plummet.

The impact knocks the wind out of you at first. Luckily you hadn't hit any of the other branches on your way down but a pulsing dull ache weaves it's way through your muscles, your palms and knees dirty and scraped up but your face seems to have landed on something much softer.

When you try to pick yourself up, you find yourself face to face with a pair of black denim jeans, the zipper somehow upside down as your hands press down on a pair of meaty thighs while you try to steady yourself.

You rock back just a bit, still trying to figure it all out with your head all spinny when feel your clothed pussy come to rest on something hard, a puff of hot air blown right into your panties with a muffled exclamation sounding out.

The way you scramble away is almost comical, so frantic like a severed gecko's tail when you figure out that you'd fallen right on top of Eddie, your face in his crotch and his in yours.

"Oh my god oh my god, I didn't mean to- are you okay? Eddie I'm so sorry!"

He's far less jittery than you are, propping himself up on his elbows with a little groan, leaves tangled in his hair, his lunchbox knocked onto its side behind him. The fall had made him bite his cigarette in two, one end lying on the forest floor before it's joined by the other when Eddie spits it out of his mouth. You manage to find his lighter nearby, picking it up and handing it back to him.

"Still in one piece", he pats his chest and he huffs a laugh, placing the lighter back inside his jacket pocket. "Could get used to this. It's not everyday that it rains pretty women."

The flirt. Just as he'd been with you in high school though you're not sure whether to be charmed or embarrassed given the circumstances. So both emotions manage to sneak in before you can decide on which one.

"I- my purse- Carol, see she tried to shoplift, right? I caught her and so my purse-", you find it just behind you, holding it up in front of Eddie's face as you continue to explain. "She lifted it before I could notice and she tossed it all the way up there," you point up at the spot you fell down from. "I slipped. I tried to stay quiet while you were busy but the branch broke and my foot slipped and..."

And what? "I'm sorry I sat on your face, Eddie? It won't happen again?" God, you felt so stupid right now.

"Woah woah, take a breath. It's not like I'm going to press charges or anything", he assures you.

You knew he wouldn't do anything of the sort. Eddie was always nice to you. Still is it seems, even after you so rudely and abruptly body slammed into him so damn hard. Maybe your luck's starting to turn. Or maybe it's just because he's in a good mood after a big sale... Yeah, that must be it.

Feeling a little better about the whole thing, you manage to get yourself back on to your feet even if a little unsteadily, holding a hand out to Eddie so you can help him up too. He accepts it at first but when his eyes fall to your knees his hand slips free from yours.

"You're bleeding", he notices.

Looking down, you see that he's right, two open cuts on both knees. Nothing serious but the blood is yet to clot, trailing down your legs in thin red lines and staining your socks.

You don't have anything on you to help dab it with, looking around when Eddie begins to shed his denim vest.

"It's clean, promise. Took it out of the laundry this morning"

The gesture is so sweet, watching him attentively as he kneels at your feet. You attempt to help too, picking the leaves out of his hair because it's the least you could do while he carefully cleans away the dirt on your skin. The feeling of his hand wrapping around your calf to steady himself is nice too, pressing the denim against your wounds so gently that you barely hiss at the sting.

"Doesn't look too bad. That's a good thing. You always had nice legs".

Your face could not feel any hotter than it already feels right now. At this angle, he might even be able to catch another glimpse or two up your skirt again but this time you don't mind at all. He's earned it.

"Thanks", you tell him with a smile, your toes curling in your socks because there's something so nice about being taken care of after the the whole thing with Carol that it makes you want to shiver with delight.

In the past you knew not to take him too seriously just in case he was only being nice to you but at the same time, Eddie was never one to be shy or less than honest about what he thought or said. Maybe you just had trouble accepting that and in turn, accepting that you were more than deserving of that kind of attention.

"You shouldn't be walking around like this. I could give you a ride if you're cool with that", he offers when he looks back up at you, the deep brown of his eyes now a light cinnamon with the sun spilling down on his face from between the branches.

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that", you accept eagerly.

The drive back to yours is more than pleasant, though you'd never actually lost touch it was nice for two high school friends like you to reconnect on a new level. Eddie even joins you in trashing Carol a bit too though now you feel you might actually owe that thieving venom spitting cobra of a woman a little thank you.

What were the chances of this all happening? the both of you in the same place at the same time, your branch giving way the exact moment he got closer to you? no sooner, no later. Whatever the reason might be, today feels kind of special.

"Sorry I messed up your vest", you hold up the bloody thing tentatively when he pulls up outside your house.

"You kidding? 's the best its ever looked. Pretty hardcore"

You giggle at that, part of you realizing that you don't want to leave his van, trying to stall and find a reason to stay a little longer and keep whatever this is becoming going.

Eddie looks back at you pensively as you do so.

He doesn't want you to leave either. He thinks about how absurdly fast he'd gone from securing a deal like any other day to having his nose buried in your panties out of nowhere. If he doesn't act just as fast he might never get this opportunity again.

"Y' know, I wouldn't mind seeing even more of you next time", he smiles, somehow coming on more sweetly suave than sleazy like you would find any other man who would say so.

"Eddie Munson, you hound", you play scold him back, swatting him gently on the arm. Any excuse to touch him. You can't help noticing how nice and firm it feels under that dark layer of leather.

Honestly, Eddie's a little surprised himself that his charm's actually working too but manages to keep it up.

"So, what do you say? dinner? movie?", he suggests hopefully.

"Sure. Dinner, movie and then, when you come back to mine, maybe we can pick up where we left off from when I was on top of you", you wink back.

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 7 - in transition]

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Paige and Azzi said it was over.

Boundaries drawn, feelings shelved, rules in place. But with every game, every glance, every unexpected moment off the court, the line gets harder to hold. They agreed to stop, but how long can they mean it? Word count: 5,577 Author's note: first, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this fic. i'm overwhelmed but very happy with the comments, messages, and reactions. i didn't know a lot are reading this nonsense, but thank you! second (and you may not want to hear this), i may not update for a couple of weeks. i am going on a trip so i'm not sure i'll be able to do so. i hope you'll still want to read this if it's not frequently update until third week of july. third (if you're also reading my other on-going), unfolded will be updated but i also apologize it will not be that frequent due to the same reason above. thanks for supporting and reading my works.

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The sky outside her windows had settled into its noon haze, but Azzi hadn’t looked up from her desk in hours. Her monitor cast a soft glow across the dark wood, spreadsheets opened and minimized in equal measure. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, scrolling through a document she had already reviewed twice that morning. 

The knock on her door was brief. Nika stepped in without waiting for permission, balancing a takeout bag and two bottled teas in her hands. 

“I know you didn’t eat again,” Nika said as she shut the door behind her. “And I’m not letting you call a candy bar lunch.” 

Azzi sat back in her chair, one brow lifting. “You’re persistent.” 

“I work for a woman who hasn’t taken a real lunch break in ten days,” Nika replied, placing the food down. “Persistent is the bare minimum.” 

Azzi didn’t argue. She slid the papers to the side and reached for the tea, unscrewing the cap but not drinking yet. Across the desk, Nika opened the takeout containers with practiced ease. 

“How is your WNBA team?” Nika asked without looking up. “Season started last week.” 

Azzi didn’t flinch, though the pause before her answer was longer than usual. “Lisa’s handling things,” she said. “It’s her role as general manager, and she’s doing it well. I step in only if I'm needed.” 

Nika glanced up, reading more than what was said. “Good for her but that’s not the same as you supporting them.” 

“I’m busy.” 

“With what?” Nika didn’t soften her tone. “All deadlines are in. Contracts are locked through next quarter. We’re ahead of schedule with every major client. Even your advisory meeting next week was rescheduled by you.” 

Azzi set the tea down, untouched. 

“You’re not too busy to show your face at a home game, Azzi. And neither the team nor the city thinks you’re invisible. So if this is about being busy, I don’t buy it.” 

Azzi held her posture, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. But the pause spoke more than anything else. 

Nika watched her for another beat before easing back into her chair, unpacking a fork from its wrapper.  

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “But don’t pretend like this is just scheduling. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

The room stretched between them, filled with paper, food, and the weight of everything unspoken. 

Azzi finally reached for the container, though she still hadn’t eaten a bite. Her voice stayed level, careful. “Lisa knows what she’s doing.” 

“Sure,” Nika said, spearing a piece of grilled chicken. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t still look for you.” 

-    Valkyries Headquarters, San Francisco. May 2025. 

Practice was nearly over, but Paige hadn’t slowed once. She moved through the drills like they were personal, like every missed shot meant something more than just another rep. Her jersey clung to her back, soaked through from the effort. While the rest of the team eased off, she kept pressing. 

“Okay, Paige, you trying to earn Finals MVP in practice?” Kate called, grabbing a towel from the bench. 

Paige gave a quick laugh. “Just keeping sharp.” 

Kiki, lounging near the sideline with her water bottle, chimed in without lifting her head. “If this is about Rookie of the Year, relax. I’m not trying to take it from you.” 

“I just want to do well. Don’t want to let the team down.” 

Kate tossed her towel over her shoulder and walked past. “You’re not. We’ve got your back. So maybe stop trying to bleed for every drill.” 

Paige nodded, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look toward the locker room when the others started filing out. She stayed at the three-point line, adjusted her stance, and kept shooting. 

The gym thinned out, noise fading as bodies left the floor. Lights still buzzed overhead. The sound of the ball hitting the rim echoed louder in the emptying space. 

One more shot. Then another. She moved like she could outwork the ache settling deep in her chest. 

- 

Barclays Center, Brooklyn. June 2025. 

The arena buzzed with rising energy. Lights swept across the court, catching on polished shoes and tailored jackets. Courtside filled with the usual rotation of executives, celebrities, and carefully groomed donors. 

Azzi sat quietly among them, legs crossed, her posture composed. Ines sat on one side, Tony on the other. Neither drew attention. 

Three nights earlier, New York liberty owner, Clara Wu had attended the foundation’s gallery fundraiser uptown.  

Toward the end of the event, in the space between polite farewells and final handshakes, Clara had asked if Azzi would be attending the Liberty vs Valkyries game. It hadn’t sounded like pressure, but Azzi understood the subtext. Clara rarely asked for anything directly. 

Azzi had smiled and said yes. She didn’t want to appear distant or detached, not while her team was in town, not so early in the season. By the next morning, Ines had secured the only tickets still available.  

Courtside, unfortunately. 

Across the floor, the Valkyries were already deep in warmups, moving through drills with controlled intensity.  

Paige stayed near the top of the arc, locked into rhythm, her eyes focused straight ahead. If she noticed Azzi’s presence, she didn’t show it.    The game had turned brutal in rhythm and pace.  

The Liberty held a five-point lead, and the crowd rode every possession like a wave, roaring with each defensive stop and every made shot. Bodies hit the floor more often now. Elbows flared. Timeouts were used sparingly. 

Paige moved with urgency. Her focus locked on the ball like nothing else existed. Sweat clung to her temples, her movements crisp and tight, no motion wasted.  

When a tipped pass ricocheted off a defender’s arm and spun wildly toward the sideline, she didn’t hesitate. 

She dove. 

The hardwood scraped beneath her as she slid forward, arms reaching, hands wrapping around the ball just before it could bounce out of bounds. But her momentum kept going. Her body skidded past the line, straight toward the courtside seats. 

She crashed at Azzi’s feet, shoulder brushing against her legs before she caught herself. 

“Shit—sorry,” Paige breathed, looking up. Her voice came low and rushed, all heat and adrenaline. 

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, calm and unreadable. 

For a second, the noise in the arena blurred behind them. 

Then the whistle blew. Paige scrambled up, tossed the ball to a teammate, and jogged back onto the court. 

Azzi didn’t look away right away. The faint trace of contact lingered in her skin. But her face gave nothing back. 

-    Team bus on the way to the airport, New York. June 2025.  

The internet had caught fire. 

Clips of Paige diving out of bounds and crashing at Azzi’s feet spread across every platform.  

Slow-motion edits looped the way Paige looked up at her, the brief glance that passed between them, the stillness of Azzi’s expression.  

Screenshots froze the frame at just the right second, turning a routine hustle play into something cinematic. 

Fans called it poetic. Dramatic. Predictable in the way only stories you couldn’t write better in fiction tended to be. 

“This is gay history,”  

“She literally landed at her feet. You cannot make this shit up.” 

“It’s giving princess and her knight,” another caption declared beneath a still of Paige on the floor, Azzi seated above her, untouched, statuesque. 

#ValkyriesCourtship alongside #PrincessAndTheHooper trended before the fourth quarter highlights even aired. 

Even sports media picked it up. A panel segment ran on afternoon television, showing side-by-side clips with commentary that couldn’t resist the subtext.  

ESPN headlined it “better than anything on Netflix.” 

Paige had seen enough of it by the time she reached the team bus. Her phone hadn’t stopped buzzing, but she left it face down on the bench.  

Kiki had sent her the clip with three crying emojis and “Oscar-worthy fall.” 

Kate pulled up another edit as she sat beside Paige, this one layered with a ballad and a dramatic fade to black. 

“You good?” 

“It was just a save.” 

“Sure. You threw yourself at the sideline like a knight charging into battle and landed at Miss Fudd's feet like you meant to bow.” 

Paige adjusted her hoodie without answering. 

Behind them, Kiki laughed. 

“She’s blushing.” 

She didn’t turn around. If she was, she wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. 

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

Las Azzi stared at her calendar, one hand pressed to her temple, the other resting over her laptop’s trackpad. The confirmation email sat open in front of her, clear as day. 

She leaned back slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing. 

There was no way this wasn’t deliberate. 

The Valkyries were playing the Aces. In Las Vegas. Tonight. And somehow, despite the number of ways she had tried to avoid repeating last week’s coincidence, here she was again. Same city. Same schedule. Same team. 

She remembered Nika casually handing off the file three days ago. Something about a last-minute scheduling conflict, how the developers were pushing for face time, how it made sense for Azzi to take. At the time, it hadn’t sounded strange. 

Now it did.    Another email which held two tickets to the game had found its way to Azzi.    Right. 

It wouldn’t look good if she didn’t show up to the game. Not when people knew she was in the city. 

If Nika and Ines had planned this, they weren’t going to admit it. But Azzi knew them both too well.  

She should have seen this coming. 

- 

Michelob ULTRA Arena, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The game was tight. The Aces pushed in transition, fast and aggressive, but the Valkyries kept pace, sharp in their switches and relentless on the glass. The score stayed close, every possession carrying weight. 

Azzi sat still through it all. Close enough to feel the vibrations under her heels. She didn’t react. Didn’t lean in. Just watched. 

Paige was everywhere. Fighting through screens, calling switches, sinking shots like she was burning through something no one else could see. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t ease up. 

When she hit a three just outside the arc, her eyes searched briefly beyond the baseline. 

Azzi met the look. 

The moment was brief. The game pressed forward.  

- 

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025. 

The machine clinked quietly as Paige pressed the button again. Lights blinked. Nothing hit. She reached into the cup and slid another coin in. 

The Valkyries had pulled off the win. A tight, scrappy six-point finish that left the Aces frustrated and the bench breathing hard. 

Paige had smiled when she needed to. Nodded during the interviews. Let her teammates pull her into the photo. But once it was done, she slipped out early and didn’t look back. 

She found herself now hunched at a forgotten corner of the casino floor, staring through the slot machine like it owed her an answer she couldn't phrase. 

A pause behind her, then Azzi’s voice. 

“You know I’m not paying you to lose your money on a stupid machine.”    Paige slid in another coin and pressed the button, not bothering to turn around. The reels spun and missed again. 

“I know you’re ignoring me,” Azzi continued. “And I deserve that. But I wanted to say congratulations. You were great tonight.” 

Paige’s eyes stayed on the machine. “Hm, ‘s that all?”     Azzi wanted to say more. To sit down, to explain, to ask for something she hadn’t figured out how to name yet. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure if she should say more or walk away. The noise around them was constant—machines whirring, voices rising and falling, the usual chaos of a casino floor. It wasn’t the right place for this type of conversation.    “Yes. Have a good night, Paige.” 

Azzi moved through the casino without looking back, weaving past clusters of tourists and cocktail servers until she reached the elevators.  

One had just arrived. She stepped inside, pressed her floor, and leaned back against the wall as the doors began to close. 

A hand shot through at the last second. 

The doors jerked open. 

Paige stood there, a little breathless, eyes steady. She stepped in without asking and let the doors slide shut behind her. 

“D'you already have dinner?” 

Azzi shook her head. 

Paige glanced at the buttons, then back at her. 

“Wanna order room service with me?”    - 

The coffee table was a mess of wrappers and half-crumpled napkins. Paige leaned back into the couch, one leg tucked under the other, working through the last of the fries like it was a timed competition. 

Azzi watched from the armchair, equal parts fascinated and horrified.  

She had offered a quiet space for their impromptu dinner since Kiki was already asleep in Paige's room. 

Paige had inhaled three burgers in under fifteen minutes and was now making quick work of the fries without so much as a breath. 

Azzi reached for her untouched sandwich, glanced at it, then looked back at Paige. 

“Do you want mine too?” 

Paige didn’t even pause. “What is it?” 

“That was sarcasm.” 

“You’re gonna need to be more specific if food’s involved.” 

Azzi shook her head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m genuinely alarmed.” 

“You’ve seen me play,” Paige said through a mouthful of fries. “How is this surprising?” 

“You didn’t unhinge your jaw during the game.” 

Paige grinned, tossed a fry in the air, and caught it with her mouth.  

Azzi sighed and reached for the water bottle on the table but didn’t drink. Her gaze lingered on Paige, still working through the fries like nothing in the world could distract her. 

“You’ve been playing really well lately,” she said. “The last few games especially.” 

Paige slowed her chewing just a little. “Oh.” 

Azzi smiled. 

“I mean, thanks. I didn’t know you were watching.” 

There was a pause. Azzi could have let it pass, could have deflected or changed the subject, but the quiet between them felt too close to something real to lie through. 

“I haven’t missed a game,” she said. “Even if I’m not there, I watch. Every one of them.” 

Paige blinked, then looked down, a trace of pink blooming along her cheeks as she reached for another fry she clearly didn’t need. 

Sitting with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, Azzi’s eyes fixed on the untouched sandwich beside her. The weight between them had been there the whole night, carefully unspoken, but now it pressed harder, closer.    “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For what happened. For how it happened. It wasn’t fair to you. If I could take it back... I would.” 

Paige didn’t answer right away. She wiped her hands clean with a napkin, taking her time, then leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. 

“I don’t regret kissing and making out with you that night,” she said.  

Azzi finally looked at her. 

“I only regret putting you in a position. You were already carrying too much, and I pushed you when I should’ve backed off. That’s on me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry for that.” 

Azzi shook her head slowly, the words already forming before Paige could say anything more. “No. Paige, I was the one who kissed you.” 

“And I kissed you back.” 

Azzi looked away, lips pressed together for a moment before she spoke again. 

“I let my emotions get the best of me. That night... I wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

“That’s exactly my regret,” Paige leaned back slightly, eyes holding firm. “I didn’t stop to think what you were going through. I shouldn’t have let it go that far when I knew you weren’t steady.”    She stood up abruptly. “God! Azzi, you just had to deal with your brother that night and all I could think was myself and my stupid ego.”    Azzi’s brow lifted, disbelief flickering across her face. 

“You’ve really been carrying this like it’s on you?” 

"Well...” 

Azzi motioned to the couch. “Sit down.” 

Paige hesitated but did as she was told, settling into the cushion with a quiet breath. 

“Listen,” Azzi started, her tone even but not cold. “I don’t know why you’re blaming yourself, but don’t. And if it makes you feel better, I appreciate your thoughts about me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s cared enough to think about what I’m feeling.” 

She paused, eyes fixed forward. 

“But I’m not going to lie. We’re re-opening something we shouldn’t cross again.” 

Paige sat still, her body tight, listening. 

“We started on the wrong path, Paige. And if we keep walking it, it’s going to lead both of us somewhere we won’t come back from. Whatever this was, we can’t keep going. There’s too much at stake. Not just for me. For you too.” 

Paige kept her gaze on the floor, jaw tight. The words weren’t new. Not really. She had imagined this conversation too many times—Azzi choosing control over closeness, reason over feeling. But now that it was happening, the actual weight of it pressed in deeper than she expected. 

She had been holding on to guilt, turning it over in her head like a stone she thought she could smooth down if she just kept at it long enough. But hearing Azzi say it out loud, the finality of her tone, made it clear that nothing she’d been carrying would change the ending. 

Still, it stung. 

It stung to be told they had started on the wrong path when it had been the only one that felt right. 

She nodded slowly, barely. 

“Okay,” she said, though it didn’t feel like one. 

- 

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The Valkyries were rolling. Eleven wins, three losses. The best start of any expansion team in league history. Their chemistry was sharp, execution cleaner with every game, and the league had started paying attention. 

Paige was a headline regular now. Her stats held weight, her plays made highlight reels, and the noise around her name had shifted from hopeful to certain. Rookie of the Year wasn’t just possible—it was probable. 

All-Star voting opened with her name already at the top of the ballots. 

She felt it, the momentum. The lift of it. Practices ran smoother, her body felt lighter, even the travel days didn’t drag. 

But that talk in Las Vegas hadn’t left her. 

Azzi hadn’t shown up to a game since. Not once. Not even for the home stands. 

The gym had emptied out over an hour ago, but Paige was still there, catching her own rebounds, the steady rhythm of the ball echoing through the quiet space. Her body moved on instinct—one dribble, two, rise, release. Net. Repeat. 

She wasn’t tired. Not enough to stop. 

The sound of the door clicking open didn’t pull her attention right away. Only when footsteps drew closer did she finally glance toward the baseline. 

Azzi stood just inside, arms crossed, the faintest trace of something amused in her voice. 

“Practice ended a while ago. If you’re staying this long, I should start charging you gym maintenance.” 

Paige caught the ball and held it. Her breathing slowed as she turned to face the person living rent free in her head for the past couple of months. 

She let the ball rest against her hip, then spun it slowly in one hand. 

“I don’t want to slack,” she said. “We’re on a five-game win streak. Last thing I need is my boss getting mad I’m not putting it all out there.” 

She looked up, a flicker of something teasing behind her eyes. 

“Last I heard, she never misses watching our games.” 

Azzi scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. She plucked the ball from Paige’s hand like it belonged to her.    “You really think flattery’s going to make me overlook the fact that you’re hogging the gym?” 

Paige grinned and walked backward toward the free throw line, holding out her hand, shrugging. “If I said I was staying late to honor the legacy of the franchise, would that make it better?” 

Azzi turned the ball slowly in her hands. “It might make it worse.” 

Paige laughed, stepping back with a bounce in her step. “I’m just trying to keep the lights on. You know, making sure your multi-million dollar floor space stays in good use.” 

“I should charge you rent.” 

“Add it to my contract,” Paige said, motioning toward the court. “Tell you what. You make one shot, I’ll clear out.” 

Azzi tilted her head. “You think I’m just going to embarrass myself for your amusement?” 

“I think you’re dying to see if you can make one,” Paige said, voice low and teasing. “Come on. You’re standing on the floor of your own team’s gym, and you’ve never even taken a shot?” 

Azzi stared at her for a long second, then shook her head and let out a sigh. 

“You’re relentless.” 

Paige grinned and walked toward the free throw line, tossing the ball up and catching it. “One shot. I promise I won’t tell the world. Unless it’s perfect.” 

Azzi followed her slowly, arms folded. 

“This is ridiculous.” 

“This is team bonding.” 

“You’re not my team.” 

“I’m your headache. Close enough.” 

Azzi let out a breath, finally taking the ball back. “Fine. But I’m blaming you when this ruins my reputation.” 

Paige stepped in, already adjusting her grip. “If anything, this is gonna make it better.”    Azzi stared at the hoop like it was challenging her. She adjusted her grip on the ball, stepped awkwardly toward the free throw line, and squared her shoulders like she had watched athletes do a hundred times from the sidelines. 

She launched. 

It left her fingers too flat, spinning awkwardly in the air before clanking off the front rim and bouncing back with a dull thud. 

Paige bit her lip, then broke into a jog to chase it down before it rolled out of bounds. 

“That was…” She paused, dribbling the ball once. “A very brave attempt.” 

Azzi crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

“I’m not.” Paige grinned. “I’m saying you’re clearly an expert at hitting the exact part of the rim that guarantees it won’t go in.” 

She walked the ball back, but instead of handing it over, she stopped in front of Azzi and held it with one hand. Her voice dropped, softer this time, and something in her face shifted. 

“Let me show you.” 

Azzi hesitated, watching her closely. There was no mocking now. Paige’s grin had settled into something quieter. Not serious, but careful. Like she was trying not to move too quickly through a moment that meant more than it should. 

She nodded once. 

Paige stepped closer, placing the ball in Azzi’s hands again, but this time kept hers there too. She adjusted Azzi’s grip gently, her thumbs brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. 

“Right here. Let your shooting hand sit under the ball. Other hand just helps guide it.” 

Azzi didn’t look at the hoop. She looked at Paige. Their hands were tangled around the ball, Paige’s fingers warm and steady. Close enough to feel her breath when she spoke again. 

“You don’t need to force it. Let it roll off your fingers. It’s about rhythm. Trust.” 

Azzi swallowed hard. 

“Trust the shot?” 

Paige’s eyes met hers. “Trust yourself.” 

The gym felt too quiet. Just the creak of sneakers on polished wood and the low hum of lights above. Paige stepped behind her, setting her palms lightly on Azzi’s elbows, guiding them into position. 

“Bend your knees a little. Keep your elbow under the ball.” 

Azzi followed. The motion was stiff, but she listened. 

Paige leaned in, voice at her ear. “Now lift it slow. Let it go at the top.” 

Azzi raised her arms and released. The ball floated, not perfect, but cleaner. It hit the backboard and bounced toward the rim before falling away. 

Better. 

Azzi turned to look at her, something flickering in her eyes. Not frustration. Something else. A heat she didn’t name. 

“That was almost good,” Paige said. 

“Almost?” 

“I think you need another lesson.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025.  

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of Paige’s phone. She was sprawled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched toward the armrest. Her hair was damp from a shower, and there was a half-finished protein shake on the coffee table. 

Her thumbs tapped quickly. 

Paige: You looked good last night.  Paige: But I still think your hair looked better during draft night. 

She attached a photo. 

It was Azzi, polished and poised, walking into a real estate conference. Hair pulled back in a sleek twist, dressed in a charcoal pantsuit that made her look every inch the power executive Twitter loved to obsess over. 

Azzi: Where did you get this? 

Paige answered before the read receipt even registered. 

Paige: Internet. You’re famous, remember? 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, typing slowly. 

Azzi: Are you stalking me now? 

Paige: Maybe.  Paige: Just enough to form an opinion about your hairstyles. 

Azzi: And here I thought you were too busy chasing Rookie of the Year. 

Paige: I multitask. 

Azzi sat up straighter in bed, the corners of her mouth betraying the start of a smile. 

Azzi: You really liked my hair that night? 

Paige: I like a lot of things when it comes to you.  Paige: Want a list? 

Azzi hesitated.  

Azzi: I’m scared of that list. 

Paige: You should be. It’s long. 

Azzi: Paige. 

Paige: Azzi. 

Azzi: I thought we weren’t doing this. 

Paige: You texted back.  Paige: So maybe you’re doing it too. 

There was a pause. Paige watched the typing bubble appear and disappear three times. Then finally: 

Azzi: Goodnight, Paige. 

Paige stared at it. Then sent one more message without thinking. 

Paige: I still like your hair better down. 

She set her phone down beside her, the softest grin tugging at her mouth as she leaned back into the couch. 

While Azzi lay still in the dark, phone on her chest, heartbeat louder than it should be. She didn’t reply again. But she didn’t stop reading it either. 

-  

Rocco's Cafe, San Francisco. June 2025. 

The clink of glass against ceramic filled the space between them. Afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the restaurant, the kind of place Nika always picked—unassuming, elegant, with an outdoor view that cost more than it looked. Azzi sat across from her, shoulders relaxed, her phone turned face down for once. 

Nika stirred her espresso, eyes flicking to the plate Azzi had barely touched. 

“Westlake signed,” she said. “The rezoning permits came in yesterday.” 

Azzi nodded, lifting her glass. “Good. I want the contractors briefed by Friday. We’ll reroute phase three if they can’t break ground in time.” 

“They will.” Nika took a sip, then leaned back in her chair. “What about the Dallas project? Still holding?” 

Azzi glanced past her toward the window. “We’re waiting on final numbers. But I’m not rushing that one. The board will push if I give them a reason.” 

A beat passed, comfortable and slow. Nika tilted her head, her voice quieter. 

“How are you?” 

“I’m fine?” 

“You’re more than fine.” 

Azzi looked at her confused. 

Nika smiled, sharp but kind. “You’ve been smiling. Laughing. You even left the office before seven last week.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, daring Nika to continue. 

“You’re glowing.” 

She shook her head, but her mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. 

“And forgive me, but I have a feeling Jake’s not the reason.”  

Nika lifted her cup with a knowing tilt, like she was letting Azzi keep her secret while quietly reminding her it wasn’t all that well hidden. 

-  San Francisco International Airport, San Francisco. June 2025. 

Azzi reread the message from the Valkyries’ training staff, the words sharp in their precision.  

Concussion protocol.  

Paige had been pulled from practice following a hit during the game against Indiana two nights ago. 

Azzi had watched that game from a bar in Dallas, her tablet propped up between half-finished cocktails and development briefs. The meeting with local contractors had stretched past dinner.  

Her flight home today was late and quiet, and somewhere over the Rockies, exhaustion claimed her. 

The message hadn’t registered until she was standing outside Terminal 2, luggage beside her, the San Francisco air cutting through her blazer. She scrolled absently while waiting for the car. 

Another text sat beneath the first.  

Let us know if you’d like to see the medical report. 

She didn’t reply right away. Headlights pulled up. The town car stopped cleanly at the curb. 

She typed her reply. 

Not necessary. 

Tony stepped out, moved to the trunk. Azzi got in without a word. The door closed with a soft click, and the city hummed low around them. 

She stared straight ahead.    Thinking.    More thinking.    “Tony, we’re making a detour.” 

-    Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025. 

Paige blinked, hard, like it would help make sense of the shape in front of her. 

Azzi stood at the doorway, calm as ever, hair tucked neatly behind one ear, as if she belonged there. She hadn’t called. Hadn’t messaged. 

And now Azzi was stepping inside like she hadn’t just knocked a minute ago, like being let in meant she belonged there. 

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You know, knocking doesn’t mean you get to just walk in like it’s your office.” 

Azzi took two more steps in, ignoring the comment entirely. 

“You’re in concussion protocol,” she said. “I got the update this morning.” 

“I—what? Wait, how do you even—” Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even on the medical distribution list.” 

“I don’t need to be.” 

“Okay. Cool. Great. Love the vague billionaire surveillance energy,” Paige muttered. “That’s definitely what every injured rookie wants.” 

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I didn’t hack into anything, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

Paige snorted. “You didn’t have to. One look from you and half the staff probably tripped over themselves to send an update.” 

“I asked, they answered.” 

“Right. Because that’s totally normal. Just your average team owner flying across the country to check on a player with a bump to the head.” 

“I’m not your average team owner,” Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it wasn’t just a bump.” 

Paige’s breath hitched before she could hide it.  

She tried to mask it with sarcasm. “So what now? Are you here to run your own tests? Gonna flash a penlight in my eyes, ask me who the president is?” 

"Would you answer if I did?” 

“Depends,” Paige said, voice lower now. “Are you gonna tell me why you really came?” 

Azzi didn’t look away. “Does it matter?” 

“It does if you want to keep pretending this is just about basketball.” 

“Paige.”    “Azzi.” 

Azzi exhaled, slow and tired. “I was worried.” 

Paige stepped closer, the tension in her shoulders softening as she reached out and cupped Azzi’s face with both hands. 

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “You don’t have to worry.” 

Azzi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on Paige, and before she realized it, she was leaning into the warmth of that touch, drawn by something quieter than reason. 

Paige moved in without rushing, her hands sliding down until they rested on Azzi’s waist. She pulled her in, carefully, like she didn’t want to spook her. Their bodies met in a slow, steady hold. 

Azzi let herself be held. 

“Didn’t we agree we need to stop this?” Azzi’s voice was soft, but the weight behind it settled between them. 

"I only agreed half-heartedly.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes and gave her a light smack on the arm. Paige caught her wrist before she could pull away, grinning. 

“Let’s just have this night, please.” Paige said, voice lowered to something more honest. “We don’t have to do anything. I miss you.” 

There was a pause, then a quiet mumble from Azzi. “I miss you too.” 

Paige wrapped her in a hug, slow but firm, the kind that said more than words could carry. She held Azzi tightly, grounding herself in the contact, in the relief of having her this close again. 

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment, still not letting go. 

Azzi answered once they finally pulled back, their fingers laced. “Long. Delayed twice. I hated every second.” 

“Stay the night,” Paige said without thinking. 

Azzi blinked. Her body stilled. “Paige—” 

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Paige added quickly. “We both need rest. That’s all. Just... don’t leave.” 

Azzi hesitated for only a beat, then reached for her phone. She typed out a message to Tony to go home without her. 

Paige disappeared for a moment and came back with a folded UConn sweatshirt and matching joggers. “You’ll look better in these than I ever did.” 

Azzi gave her a look, took the clothes, and changed in the bathroom. When she emerged, the room was dim, Paige already under the covers. 

She climbed in, the air between them thick with hesitation. They left a small space between their bodies, but not for long. 

“Come here, ma,” Paige said, voice almost teasing. 

Azzi didn’t bother pretending. She folded into Paige’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. 

“I’m only doing this because of your concussion protocol,” she murmured. 

Paige laughed, the sound low and grateful. “If it means I get to have you like this, I’ll bang my head every day.” 

Azzi let out a quiet laugh of her own, her breath brushing against Paige’s neck. 

Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for coming. And for checking on me.”    “We’re so bad at stopping this.” 

[penelopehere]

How They Became Demons HCs With Saja Boys

Jinu

Most of Jinu’s backstory is already revealed in the movie, with him being born into an extremely poor family

I believe his father left when he was young in order to find better work, making Jinu promise to protect his mother and sister

Jinu agreed, not knowing he would never see or hear from him again

From there Jinu took it upon himself to become the provider of the family, doing whatever it took to care for them

He worked odd jobs, no matter how degrading or difficult, including cleaning up after animals, becoming a blacksmith assistant, miner etc

However none of these were ever stable, with those in charge often taking advantage of those beneath them by cutting their pay through the threat of being replaced or even abused

His last hope was busking on the streets, as seen in the film

However, he received little success with this since most people in his village only respected professional musicians

At this point his insecurities got louder, saying he was a failure to his family and that he broke his promise to his father

That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if things were different; if he was talented enough to get people’s attention with his music, knowing he’d do whatever it took to make it happen

Then the next day, when he tried busking again, something amazing happened

People actually stopped to listen; applauding and even paying him after each song

He was able to make a stable living from this, providing his mother and sister with a stable source of food and housing

Eventually news of his abilities reached the emperor, and he was invited to perform for the royal palace

Unable to refuse, he followed the guards, promising his family he would return with good news

After his show, he was gifted with praise, money and gifts; things he would have never dreamed possible for someone like him

He profusely thanked the emperor, who also praised his talent

He dined with the other performers, all of them bonding over their fortune

However, near the end of the night, he insisted on going back to his family

He showed them the silks, jewelry and food he was given; memorising the smiles on his mother and sister’s faces as they saw what he brought

Eventually he was invited to the palace again, only this time to stay permanently

He was escorted with his family to the gates, eager to show them the life of luxury he witnessed

However, they were stopped by the guards as they tried to enter; clarifying that only Jinu was invited to stay

He hesitated for a moment, confused and heartbroken that he wasn’t able to bring his family

But before any arguments could leave his mouth, the voice appeared again

They reminded him of the humiliation and torture he had to endure while on the streets, constantly being faced with his family’s upset faces and the guilt he felt from it

He then let go of his sister’s hand, promising to find a way for them to stay when he was able to speak to the emperor

His sister screamed and cried for her brother not to leave as their mother held her back; sadness filling her gaze as she felt the uncertainty in his words

Then as the gates closed, Jinu saw the heartbroken faces of his family for the last time

Days would go by where he lived in the palace, enoying his newfound lifestyle

He would constantly miss his sister and mother, wanting to approach those in charge to see if they could stay with him

But after he brought up the idea to a few nobles who quickly turned him down, the voice in his head got louder; telling him that if he asked for too much that he would be kicked out

So he stayed quiet, secretly sending things to his family over the following weeks

He reseceievd letters in return, but was too guilt ridden to open them

He had given up on asking for his family to stay with him, and he lived in the palace for months while still making sure they were provided for

Then one day, the letters stopped

The voice said it was Jinu’s own fault, that he was a selfish son and his family finally realised that

It wasn’t until years later, when he finally left the palace for one of the emperor’s international guests, did he find where he was sending the money and gifts

Instead of the humble cottage he thought his mother and sister were in, there was an empty plot

Apparently the village had been using what he sent to provide for the townsfolk, and no one knew what happened to his family

He lived with the guilt of abandoning them for the rest of his life, and was constantly reminded of it by Gwi-Ma even when his soul was brought to the demon world

After being tortured with the memory for so many years, the exact way he betrayed his family became overley focused on that one moment when he let go of his sister’s hand at those gates

Gwi-Ma made sure he didn’t remember any of the times he tried straying away from the voices in his head, all so Juni would remain under his control

Baby

Grew up in an orphanage, living in and out of overcrowded rooms for most of his life

But he was used to it, making the best out of the situation and entertaining himself by playing tricks on the people in the neighborhood

This could be as small as just drawing on their face while they slept, or escalate to him stealing their car

Would always manage to recruit other kids he knew to get involved with his schemes

However, if they ever got caught, he would take responsibility; saying he deserved the ‘credit’ for any prank they pulled

Would therefore get punished frequently; getting scolded, running errands for his victims, missing out on meals, dealing with the police, even having to transfer orphanages a few times

But he thought it was worth it, knowing these pranks brought joy to both him and his friends

However his behaviour also scared off a lot of potential parents, most not wanting to adopt him

This would often times make him feel lonely and unwanted, not thinking it was possible for a family to be able to handle who he really was

He would begin to outgrow the other kids; becoming one of the oldest orphans in the building

It frustrated him seeing all his friends leave, not understanding why they didn’t want things to stay as they were

Eventually decided to not interact with the new kids that often, knowing they were just going to leave when they found something better

Would hear a voice telling him they’re all just waiting for him to leave, wanting to abandon him the first chance they got because of how immature he was

His pranks then became more frequent and malicious, even targeting it towards the other orphans

Would purposefully do this when potential parents came, not wanting any of them to get adopted

One day, when he locked in his room as punishment, he couldn’t stop obsessing over the fact that he was almost about to outgrow the orphanage and be kicked out

But then he began to think about what if he didn’t have to; dreaming of if he could stay young forever, never needing parents or being told off for being immature

The next day he would wake up, forgetting about the thoughts he had the previous night and continuing his normal routine of pranking

However, over the next couple weeks, he noticed those around him looking different

Kids would start to look older a lot faster, some of them growing unreasonably tall overnight or getting wrinkles all over their face

He wouldn’t think anything of it, but noted that the same thing happened even when he transferred orphanages

Meanwhile, he himself never seemed to age a day and even began to look younger

A few of his friends would come by to visit him- some of them adopted while others still living in orphanages-, hearing news that he was still refusing visits with potential parents

They said they worried about him since he wasn’t outgrowing his childish habits, thinking he’d never be ready for life as an adult

Naturally he’d lash out; telling them that they were the ones that changed for the worse and he shouldn’t be told off for being true to who he was

From then on he drove away anyone that still tried to connect him, and eventually just decided to leave without a trace

Would frequently steal and do a few odd jobs to get by, not wanting to find anything more stable

However, the longer he was from the orphanage, the faster he seemed to age

Within a week he would be getting wrinkles and a few grey hairs, but excused it as the of stress of living on his own

However, when he was particularly struggling, he managed to find a shelter to crash in

It was then he began to look a lot younger, with those around him physically changing the same way people at the orphanage were

While he never fully acknowledged it while he was alive, he saw subconsciously recognised that whenever he looked younger those around him aged faster

Took advantage of this, using his youthful appearance to manipulate those into trusting him so he could steal from them, get gifts, receive preferential treatment etc

Even got a few modelling and acting jobs from it, everyone astonished with his face despite his age

The longer he lived this lifestyle though, the faster those around him began to age

It got frightening, seeing people grow older in mere minutes and not being able to stop it

The guilt began eating at him, but the voice in his head prevented him from fully processing that it was his fault

However, when he was trying to pickpocket a middle aged man and witnessed him dropping dead in front of him, he began to panic

Ran from the scene, sprinting by other people who began to fall to the ground

Wasn’t paying attention and eventually died when a car hit him; the driver passing out at the steering wheel

His final moments were surrounded by people he killed, and all the guilt began to rush back to him; that his inability to grow up caused so many people to feel pain

He brought nothing but suffering to others for his own selfish reasons, and the memories of that put him under Gwi-Ma’s control for the rest of his existence

Romance

The area he lived in was rather conservative, everyone being expected to act a certain way

This pressure was particularly prevalent in Romance’s family, with them being highly respected in their neighborhood

Therefore he was needed to act perfect at all times, wanting their son to be seen as the ‘golden boy’ of the community

He was enrolled in various classes since he was young; etiquette, fencing, debate, art etc

Even at school he was always the captain, leader, teacher’s favorite, the poplar kid

Whatever someone wanted him to be, he would find a way to make it happen

However, this put him under an immense amount of stress

He would obsess over every aspect of himself, finding random flaws in everything he did

Whether that be a single hair out of place, or if something he said didn’t have the exact reaction he was expected

His parents would drill this mindset into him, further criticizing anything they deemed wasn’t perfect

This made him feel like he was never enough, filling that void by getting validation from others

He would try to charm all of his peers, feeling a rush of satisfaction with every love letter and confession he received

Even with people who didn’t like or feel anything for him initially, he would manage to talk his way into their hearts and get on their good side

However, he would eventually come across someone who didn’t like him

This wouldn't just be indifference, but pure hate no matter what he did

When he finally managed to confront them on it- confused as to why they wouldn’t like him since they hadn’t even interacted as much- he would just be told that he seemed really fake

Since this was so close to the truth, he wouldn’t know how to react; stuttering out disagreements as his brain rushed to find ways to convince them otherwise

Since that moment, his insecurities began to eat at him even more

Thoughts of this person telling everyone that he was just using a persona, or that maybe his peers felt the same way and were just pretending to be nice to him

It’d cause him to spiral, overdoing everything he usually did

Would spend hours on his physique and style to the point of exhaustion, hung out with multiple admirers one-on-one to get their praise, spending every waking moment trying to get more praise

But even then, it wouldn’t feel like enough

Not if there was someone out there who saw through his mask and didn’t like him

This would make him feel more insecure about his true personality, wanting to hide it even further

So the voices in his head got louder and louder, until it was the only thing he was able to think of

All he wanted was to be be perfect to everyone, obsessing over how he would do anything to make it happen

Then one day, everything seemed to fall into place

When he went to school, everyone began to obsess over him more than usual

He didn’t even have to do anything to charm them before they were tripping over themselves trying to get his attention

Even the only person that hated him began acting strange, hovering nearby in case he needed anything

At first he was confused, but also relieved that everyone was back to loving him; trying to relish in it no matter how unsettled and intense the change in behaviour was

But when he came back home, his parents were acting the same way

There was no more criticism, only pointless praise and obsession

He managed to convince himself that this was for the best; that he was finally perfect and fulfilling the role he was always meant to do

So he played into their obsessions, not wanting the validation to go away

Even as he got older, things remained the same

Every interviewer, stranger, even friends he tried to make treated him like he was some kind of deity

Sometimes he considered letting the mask fall and actually forming a genuine connection with someone

However the voices in his head would quickly disagree, reminding him of the anxiety he felt when he was confronted by someone who hated him

So he played pretend, being the person who everyone wanted him to be until the day he died and was put under Gwi-Ma’s control

Abby

Was most likely raised in an extremely competitive environment, where strength was the only thing he was valued for

His athletic abilities were recognised when he was really young, and he was pushed into a solo sport such as boxing

Spent most of his childhood in tournaments and trainings sessions, doing more press events when he was older and started winning more

Loved the praise he received from his coaches, family, and the fanbase he got from it

The validation was the main thing that motivated him into being the best, causing him to be known as one of the more cocky and narcissistic competitors

Won most of his matches and was disrespectful about it afterwards, practically spitting on his opponents as he egged on the crowd to keep cheering for him

However if he lost, he’d get extremely pisses; screaming insults at the referee and competitor as he was forced out of the ring

Has been suspended from the sport frequently, but he used the time to train even harder and tell his fans that the organisation was just scared of him

The only reason he wasn’t banned entirely was cause his coaches got him to stop right before it got too serious

Was also a fan favourite so removing him would lose the industry a lot of money

By the time he was a teenager he was extremely well know, having fan bases across the country as he made his way to the national level

Was surrounded by competitors that also believed losing wasn’t an option, emphasizing this mindset in him

His coach told him he was destined to be the best and if he failed, he was worth nothing

Caused him to give it his all as he prepared for the national qualifier match, frequently passing out and needing to see doctors because of how hard he pushed himself

He tried to play off his nerves when entering the ring, trash talking immediately with a cocky grin on his face

However, the round ended quick; with his opponent getting a few good hits in that had Abby almost falling to the ground

He stood his ground for a bit, but ended up losing in a knockout

When he came to,- slowly getting up from the ground and realizing what had happened- he froze

Instead of the usual anger that coursed through his veins when he failed, all he felt was fear

He believed that this proved he wasn’t good enough to be with the greats, and that everyone now knew it

When the interviewer came in, trying to get him to comment on his recent match, he snapped

Pushed the camera out of his face and was seething at everyone who was in his way as he made his way to the locker room

His coach came in, causing Abby to freeze and look down in shame

The only thing he was told was to win the next qualifier, and then he was left alone

Refused to see anyone after that, training constantly and being fueled by the fact that he had to win this next tournament

Responded online to his fans a couple days later, saying that his opponent got lucky and that they should still expect great things from him the next time he fought

Began studying the other people in his division, the doubt creeping in when he saw their abilities

This feeling was emphasized by the fact that more fans and sponsors were doubting his abilities, with him losing some traction in the industry

He constantly felt that petrifying fear from the ring all over again

Thinking that maybe this is it, that he’ll never be able compete at a higher level

In the days leading up to the qualifying match, these emotions skyrocketed and he could barely pay attention enough to train properly

The voices in his head made him focus on being the best, not being able to think about anything but the fact that he’d do whatever he needed to be the strongest

He put on an act for the public, telling the press that he was ready to prove he was the greatest

When he stepped into the ring though, he felt a surge on energy flow through him

When the bell rang, he threw a singular punch and managed to knock his opponent out

The entire arena was quiet for a few moments, before the crowd erupted into cheers

He stood dumbfounded, not expecting it to be this easy

But when the referee put his hand up- signalling he was the winner- he snapped out of it and an arrogant smile creeped onto his face

Bathed in the praise, telling the interviewer that he was going to win this entire thing

And sure enough, all his matches went a similar way; ending in only a few seconds as Abby was too fast and strong for his opponents

His coach put him on a press tour after he won nationals, saying he was the best in the country and soon the world

Those around him told him to cherish this spotlight, not knowing when it was going to drop

From this, his fear of people doubting his abilities like they did when he lost his first nationals would constantly arise

However, he’d cover this up by being a lot more cocky and rude

Would never shy away from hate comments either, saying they were just jealous

Eventually became renowned on the world level, doing extremely well on the international stage as he represented Korea

However, he’ll never forgot the last match from that tournament

He let the energy in him guide him as usual, going in for the knockout

But then a deafening crack filed the stadium, his opponent crumpling to the floor

When he looked down, he saw the man’s skull caved in as a pool of blood appeared around him

Some people in the audience screamed, others cheers, while many remained quiet

Abby was rushed out of the ring, his coach preventing anyone from talking to him

Was kept in his room with limited contact until the police arrived, needing his statement since his opponent died instantly

It was scandal, with many people thinking he cheated somehow or that he did it on purpose

But the matter was quickly dealt with, with his coach pushing Abby to keep going and prepare for the next torunmanet

The voices in his head told him to not stop, or else he’d never be the greatest and people would know he was worth nothing

So he continued, putting on his mask and not letting the doubt get to him

In his career, there were multiple instances of the same terrifying thing happening; his opponents getting basically bruistlised, some to the point of paralysation and even death

Every matter was swept under the rug because of his popularity and notoriety

However, while didn’t do it on purpose and even tried pulling his punches a couple of times, he would never forget each person that died by his hands

He continued to fight for his ego and own selfishness, never letting himself fester in the doubt and guilt; instead letting it fuel him

He never felt the extent of these feelings until he faced Gwi-Ma, who now never let him forget his mistakes

Mystery

Had a rather tight knit friend group growing up, all of them being inseparable since they were young

Even going as far as having matching bracelets or something similar

Had a few regular hang out spots all over the city; mainly abandoned areas or parks where they could be by themselves without anyone bothering them

If they weren’t there, then they’d either be at some arcade or messing with people in the neighbourhood

Mystery was one of the only members that didn’t try to branch out and make other friends, content with the group that he had

None of them even considered the fact that they would leave each other

That was until they started high school

Slowly, everyone started having a reason to leave

Whether it was having to move because their parents got a new job in a different city, getting too busy to hangout as often, or merely just drifting apart

Eventually it was just Mystery and one other friend

But even he began to grow distant, and Mystery could feel their friendship slipping away no matter what he did

Mystery then confronted his friend on it, feeling fearful of the idea of being left alone

The friend told him that these things just happen sometimes, and the two began to argue

Ended with the friend taking Mystery’s friendship bracelet, saying he was stupid for keeping it

He then ran off, and Mystery went to chase him as they made their way through the city

At one point the friend was too distracted with getting away that he went into a subway and fell onto the tracks

Before Mystery could react, a train came and killed him instantly

He was stuck in place; not moving as those around him screamed and pushed past him to see what had happened

He only reacted when some officers pulled him aside, questioning him since the two of them seemed to be in an altercation

Was rather quiet in the interrogation room, answering everything short sentences

The investigation stretched out for a while, with the media trying to get Mystery comment on the event

Classmates would even corner him at school, bullying and calling him a horrible person for killing his own friend

Even a few people from his old group reached out, some asking how this could have happened while others asked how he could do such a thing

Would get to the point he couldn’t go out with being bothered; whether that were people asking him questions, the media, people making fun of him or just weird stares

Ended up staying home most of the time, skipping school and only leaving if he needed to

Would find solace in going to his friends’ old spots since he knew no one would find him

Kept getting flashbacks of that moment in the subway, not being able to handle the guilt

He knew he deserved all the hate, and wanted nothing more than to disappear

He kept thinking that he’d do anything for people to just leave him alone

EVentually he went back home, feeling that things were eerily quiet but brushing it off and making his way to his room

The next morning, however, he noticed his parents weren’t there

Everything was untouched; nothing being out of place but no trace where they could have gone

He just assumed they went out, continuing to get ready to go to school and mentally preparing himself for the looks he would get

However, they never came

Everyone just looked passed him, not acknowledging his existence

He was confused, but took it as a small win as he made his way to class

It was then he noticed something was really wrong, when the teacher didn’t even call his name during attendance

The same thing happened multiple times later during different periods, but he didn’t want to ask about it and bring attention to himself

Had to take the train back home because his parents didn’t end up picking him up

He dreaded it, not wanting to be noticed and bombarded with questions again

However, nothing happened

Then when he came home, the house was still empty

He looked around for his parents and even tried calling them but got no answer

Weeks would go by with this happening; being alone in the house and no one acknowledging him when he went out

When he did try approaching someone, catuously asking if they knew who he was, they gave him a weird look and denied it

Felt a bit scared at first, thinking it wasn’t possible for everyone to have forgotten him

Then tried approaching a few old classmates who would reply and say that they knew him, not understanding why he was asking such a thing

However, the moment the conversation ended, they would act as if they didn’t know he was there

He wasn’t sure if this was ideally what he wanted, but was internally relieved no one was asking him about the incident

The main thing he worried about was the disappearance of his parents

But then the voices in his head got louder, telling him they probably left because he was a murderer

Flashes of that day at the train tracks played in his head again, and it felt like the guilt was suffocating him

Never went out of his way to find his family again, thinking that they left on purpose

Spent the rest of his life like this, hovering as a shadow no matter where he went

Even when he did consider trying to open up to someone again, the memory of what happened to his old group would fill his head

He believed it would be best if he just kept to himself, and remained unknown

So he did, all the way up until his death; the memory of what had happened allowing Gwi-Ma to control him forever

[creature-wizard]

Here are some tips for appropriate behavior as an ally:

99% of the time, you should not talk about yourself (like mentioning things you've done or how something makes you feel) on somebody else's post. There are a few exceptions (like a personal anecdote that strengthens OP's point), but usually it's inappropriate.

You might see a post talking about a thing and feel compelled to talk about another thing it reminds you of or feels adjacent to. Sometimes people don't mind this, but it's also highly contextual and depends on the person you're responding to. Usually, it's considered inappropriate behavior.

When in doubt, add nothing and only use filing tags. Remember, you can always make your own post or vent in a private journal.

Learn to manage your own feelings and work through them in appropriate settings. Practice mindfulness, try journaling, talk to your friends, a therapist, your priest, whatever. People advocating for their rights have a lot to do and worry about, it's not reasonable to expect them to manage your feelings or listen to your confessions.

It takes time to learn how to talk about issues with all of the depth and nuance they deserve. Trying to be a teacher after a few weeks of research is a bad idea. If you're new and not well-read, focus on boosting other people's stuff.

Research stuff for yourself as much as you can. There are some people who will be happy to explain things for you, but lots of people are tired and nobody likes repeating the same 101 stuff forever. Searching DuckDuckGo for simple phrases like "systemic racism" or "systemic transphobia" are good places to start.

Go read Information Literacy Basics 101 while you're at it, to improve your research game.

Everybody advocating for their rights is tired and stressed out to some degree. Don't take it personally if they're short with you, and refrain from snapping back. Yes, even if you think they're wrong.

You should generally trust oppressed people when they talk about their own personal experiences, but you don't have to take literally everything they tell you at face value. Distinguishing between people talking about their own experiences and the narratives they use to explain and makes sense of those experiences is a crucial skill.

Posts generalizing about a privileged class are not inherently posts demonizing a privileged class. "All men want to rape" is demonization, "cis men are responsible for most rape" is not. Learn to distinguish between them and don't react to the latter as if it's the former. Bend like a reed in the wind and let it pass over you and through you etc.

Feeling uncomfortable is to be expected, and you have to get used to it. You will hear a lot of things that reframe a lot of things you took for granted in a very negative way. That said - you need to be able to distinguish between feeling uncomfortable and accumulating actual psychological damage. If you start feeling like you're irreparably broken or like you deserve to be punished for having privilege, that's unhealthy.

Acknowledging systemic oppression and the need to dismantle it doesn't mean you need to adopt an us vs. them mentality. In fact, that kind of mentality is unhealthy and harmful. Watch out for that because it can sneak up on you.

No matter what anyone tells you, performatively traumatizing yourself (such as by viewing gory pictures) is not activism. See Bellingcat's article How to Maintain Mental Hygiene as an Open Source Researcher.

You might be tempted to share gory photos because you think it'll get more attention and make people care more. However, sharing photos of murder victims is widely considered disrespectful and traumatizing people will not make them better activists.

This is what I've got right now; additions are welcome.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Firstly, please allow me to thank you for all that you do.

My ask is this, how do you and your followers reconcile with possibility of being trapped by your own work? I want to branch out and write originals, which i have done previously and uploaded to my blog but traffic to them was slim and i quickly realized that it’s a big ask for people to want to read a story when they come on a social app. I recently wrote a fic that i uploaded to ao3 that is within the same fandom but not related to the character i typically write for but my own ocs. I had one hit. I was overcome with the feeling that i cannot exist creatively outside of this character that i’ve been writing for for the last 3-4 years, that I’ve pigeon-holed myself and left no contingency plan for the future. I cannot do any other type of art the way i do writing, it gives me the most challenge, the most joy and the most reward. And i thought i was of the mind that i didn’t care if no one read my work, but now seeing it reflected back to me on the screen, it stings and i cannot but feel embarrassed, discouraged, disheartened and frustrated.

I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to reply to this ask, and I'm even sorrier that you were feeling like this to begin with 💗 I hope that this was a momentary crisis and it hasn't continued, but in case it has:

You are so much more than the number of hits that you get on AO3. Your talent can't be measured by hits or kudos or comments. Your creativity isn't trapped inside a single character, and the more that you stretch yourself and grow the more you'll be able to feel like that's true.

Embarrassment and discouragement are the natural reactions when you share something you've worked on and get relative silence in response. I've felt disheartened and frustrated too in a similar situation.

From what you've written in this ask, it feels like you've lost confidence in your writing. You're worried that you can't do this thing that you love to do so much. You're looking for "proof" in the hits and other numbers - reassurance that you're a good writer. Reassurance that you can write outside of that one thing.

I've written before, and I'll never stop saying it - AO3 stats will not give you that reassurance, and if they do, it won't last long. To get the kind of reassurance and support that will help you regain your confidence in branching out, you really need someone (or multiple someones) that you can have ongoing conversations with about your writing.

Maybe it's a writer's group IRL. Maybe it's a discord server. Maybe it's your best friends in a group chat. Maybe it's your mom. Whoever it is, whoever they are, they'll have the context of knowing how nervous or uncertain you feel and they'll also know you well enough to know how you need to be supported.

I hope you've already figured this out in the intervening year since you dropped this in my inbox, and I really hope that you're still writing all of the things that you love to write.

[ihni]

What if Billy didn't get the job at the pool, but still needed to earn money over the summer? So he takes every odd job that people ask of him, as long as they can pay.

And unfortunately for Steve, his mother both wants the house repainted AND can pay, so she hires Billy to do it.

It's a pretty big house, but Billy assures her that he can do it alone, as well as buy the paint and tools needed as long as she picks a shade she likes.

And then of course Steve's parents fuck off to some tropical island or something, and leaves Steve to deal with Billy.

And deal with him, Steve does. Because despite how Billy assured Steve's mom that it wasn't going to be a problem, he still finds any and all reasons to bother Steve about every little thing. Where do they keep their ladder? Do they have a bucket? Where can he fill it with water, and is there a bathroom with a sink he can use to wash the tools?

One would think that Steve would be able to avoid him, as Steve has landed his own summer job at the new mall, but oh no. Billy is a morning person. Steve finds this out on the second day, when he is awoken by some terrible noise and almost falls out of his bed in fright, and looks out the window only to see Billy's grinning face right outside his second story window. The noise comes again, and Steve fumbles to get the window open to ask what the fuck Billy is doing?? And Billy just smiled and holds up a paint scraper. "Yesterday was washing the facade. Today I start scraping off all the old paint."

Which Steve is pretty sure is a made-up step of the process designed to annoy him, specifically, but whatever.

It takes a long time. Steve thought the whole thing would take a couple of days, tops, but boy was he mistaken. "Your mom is paying for this to be done PROPERLY", Billy says. Which apparently includes washing, then scraping, then one coat of some kind of oil, one coat of a white paint, and two coats of the shade Steve's mom picked. And even though Billy is actually quite handy and (Steve hates to admit it) pretty fast, it is a big house. Steve starts to despair, thinking he'll never get rid of him. The guy is there when he leaves for work, and he's often there when Steve gets home, too. And that's not even mentioning the times when Steve has a day off.

The thing is, though, that even though Steve wants to keep being annoyed, it's difficult to keep it up. Because although Billy loves to annoy him, he actually keeps their interactions short before going back to work. And while Steve adamantly refuses to help in any way (there was nothing wrong with the previous shade on the house, and also he's not getting paid!), he finds himself watching Billy work more often than not.

He watches him climb up and down the ladder, refilling the bucket; he watches him work the brush up and down and from side to side with confident strokes (and it's frankly unfair the way his biceps look when he's doing that), and he watches him get more and more tanned as the days go by.

Even while wearing a paint-stained simple T-shirt (which started off white) and a pair of cut-off jeans, even after shoving a goddamn cap on his hair to protect it against the sun or the paint or whatever, Billy looks good. Hell, even with paint smears on his face and hands and arms, and droplets of gray on his clothes and legs, he looks goddamn good.

It is so unfair.

Billy brought a Walkman with him one day, and is often found with the headphones covering his ears while he works. Which on the one hand is bad, because he'll hum whatever song he's listening to, off-key, which is annoying when Steve is home ... But on the other hand it's also good, because it means that Billy doesn't notice whenever Steve creeps up on him just to ... watch him.

One Wednesday when Steve is off work, it starts to rain. Steve doesn't think of it at first, because he's inside; he doesn't notice until ten minutes later when he hears a clang from the garage, and runs to check.

He finds Billy there, busy shoving things into the open garage to get them out of the rain - the buckets of paint have already been closed and carried inside, the brushes are wrapped in plastic, and the clang was probably the ladder that Billy has dragged inside and deposited on the concrete floor.

"Sorry," he says when he sees Steve there. "That rain came out of nowhere, I may have to redo the part I was working on today." He stands in the open doorway to the garage and looks out at the rain, making no move to walk inside where it's warm and dry (and why should he? Steve made it clear on day one that while Billy was hired to paint the outside of the house, he was NOT allowed inside under any circumstances - he could use the sink in the garage, thank you very much).

Steve is barely listening, because Billy is drenched from head to toe. The shorts have gone dark with water and the T-shirt is clinging to him like a second (slightly see-through) skin. Steve's mouth is dry.

"It doesn't look like it'll stop any time soon", Steve says, haltingly.

Billy glances at him from where he's standing, arms crossed over his chest, prickles on his wet arms. "Don't worry, your mom doesn't pay me by the hour."

Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell.

"No, I mean," Steve starts, and knows he's going to regret this. "You can come inside and wait, if you want. I can get you a ... towel."

This time, Billy turns his entire body to Steve. His hands fall down to his sides, and - Steve can see his nipples through the fabric. Billy's face splits in a slow grin when he sees where Steve is looking.

"And some dry clothes!" Steve hurries to add. "To borrow."

Billy keeps grinning, like he's figured something out. "You're too kind." He motions to the door that Steve came from, that leads into the house. Because Steve just invited Billy Hargrove into his house. "After you."

Steve is so fucked.

[bluebnny]

Can u make a luffy x reader smut friend with benefits?

monkey d luffy x reader

contents: luffy fucking you in the storage room at your work :) – reader has a vagina, but gender is not specified

warnings: smut, P in V sex, maybe slight voyeurism?, MDNI

a/n: yes, anon, yes i can :) thank you for the request! I didn’t make reader a pirate, as i always find that dynamic to be a little more interesting. Also, sorry if you wanted me to get more into the "friends with benefits" aspect of it. This is more focused on the smut than their specific relationship. Anyway, hope you like it! <3

(Dividers made by me)

word count: 1.020

Luffy is the same in every area of his life: messy, spontaneous, and carefree. But he is also the most enthusiastic person you know, burning with an intense passion that shines through in everything he does.

Even if that “thing” is you.

“Ahh- fuck. Luffy, more, please…” Here you are, in the storage room of the bar you work at, with your face pressed up against the wall. You’re doing your very best to keep your moans under control, trying to end the night with both your job and dignity intact. But he is not making it easy.

“Sure you can handle more?” Even when he’s breathless and panting, he somehow manages to joke around, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning.

Luffy snaps his hips roughly into yours, mesmerized by the way your ass and thighs shake with every harsh thrust. He’s impossibly deep now, using so much force that his hips still for half a second before pulling back again. You feel him pressing himself all the way inside, and the way it hurts so deliciously has your eyes rolling back in your head.

He goes on for what feels like forever and at the same time not long enough to your dizzy mind. All you know for sure is the pleasure building inside you, making you let out a string of whines and whimpers at the intensity of it.

He’s ramming himself into you from behind, keeping a steady pace. One hand is on the back of your head, the other on your hip to keep you from squirming away, his feet firmly planted on the ground.

You’re a whole different story. Hair messy and mouth half open, you’re barely able to contain your whimpers of pleasure. You have a hand on the wall, trying – and failing – to steady yourself, as your shaky legs are not helping much at the moment. Your other hand is placed on Luffy’s abs, whether to make him slow down from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, or to ask for more, you couldn’t even say yourself. All you know is that you’ve been craving this ever since you heard this morning that the straw hats had docked at your town again.

You and Luffy had met not too long ago but quickly considered yourselves friends. However, it didn’t stay like that for very long, as your friendship had swiftly evolved into something a little… more.

It had happened on a drunken night a few months back. Luffy and the straw hats had visited your island for a quick stop to restock and have some fun on land, going to your bar for a few drinks to catch up with you. You had joined them, seeing as you were off work that night. One thing had led to another, and you had found yourself under him on his ship, just about coherent enough to pant and moan out as the breath was repeatedly being knocked out of you by none other than the captain himself.

Ever since that night, you were addicted.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly.” He groans into the back of your head, bending over a little from the delicious feeling.

You honestly couldn’t tell anymore from how blissed out you are, no longer in control of your body. Retaining just enough sense to be aware that your boss is tending the bar on the other side of the door, and remembering that you were trying not to be too loud.

But Luffy gives a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping out despite your best efforts. You’re beyond grateful for the deafening music playing throughout the establishment. Without it, you’re sure everyone would hear exactly what you two are up to.

“Careful, or everyone out there will hear you.” He teases.

“I- I can’t.” You breathe out. How the hell are you supposed to keep any sense of control when he’s making you feel this good? But the mortifying thought of someone catching you like this sends a shiver down your spine and you clench down harder around him.

“Fuck, you like that?” He’s chuckling, but it’s coming out a little choppy from his rapid movements.

“Luffy… I’m close. Ah!” You let out another squeak when his hand moves from your head down to your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles that have you breaking on the spot.

Your mind is reeling from the orgasm crashing through you, your entire body shaking and convulsing from the intensity. Both your hands are now planted against the wall from the effort of holding yourself up.

Your pussy is helplessly spasming around his thick cock, which Luffy is still slamming into you. But you can tell he must be close from how desperate his thrusts are getting. It doesn’t take much before he’s cumming too. With a groan, he releases into you in thick spurts, his pace slowing down for the first time.

You both start to come down from the intense sensation, and you feel like you might actually fall now. Your legs start shaking even more violently as the tension leaves your body. But just as you’re about to collapse, you feel Luffy’s steadying grip around your middle, and he helps you sit on a spare chair in the corner of the room.

“You alright?” He asks you after a moment, his mind clearly still reeling from everything.

“Yeah. Just got to regain my breath.” How the hell was he already so energetic again? You feel like you’ve just run a marathon. At least your legs do.

“Yeah… fuck that was hot!” Is all he says, and when you look up to se his characteristic smile back on his face, you can’t help but mirror it.

“It was. Alright I’m good now I think.” You search for your pants which are somewhere on the floor of the storage, meanwhile hoping that your hair doesn’t look too much of a mess as you don’t have a mirror to check. But judging by how Luffy looks, your hopes are not too high.

Thanks for reading! And thank you so much for the request! Also uhhh this one doesn't have a title. It's midnight here and i am in no state to think of a good one lol.

(This is my fic, don't repost or use in any AI training programmes! Reblogs are always appreciated <3) Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

[nikiexe0]

Imagine the kids are mad at Bruce because he couldn't be a decent father (for them at least) and they say mean things to him and expressing their hate and Bruce is barely holding back his tears before swallowing. Then dick not being able to take it anymore got Carried away and punched Bruce while Bruce is there just accepting it.

The kids are too angry to even feel bad btw

Them heading out and exiting the manor, Bruce breathing harshly before collapsing in to a sobbing mess once they were gone.

———

A week passed, the kids avoiding Bruce and not meeting him except on patrol and that was also scarce. Then them getting called into an all hands on deck justice League mission

The mission were as usual - high-stakes action, life-threatening danger. Batman saw an alien aiming for Nightwing and did not even think before jumping in front of his son. Just as Bruce took the hit that pierced through his abdomen, they were hit by a spell zattana casted and was sent to the manor, but something was different. the place was cleaner and far more cold and Lifeless than any of them remembered.

they were barely able to think about that as they heard Bruce cough and the blood pooling beneath him, Bruce curling and trying to make himself smaller because he didn't want to upset his kids and make them hate him even more

Them hearing a clatter of a tray falling to the ground and seeing a man that's unmistakably alfred, far younger then they had ever seen him. Hair still without an ounce of white and hands steady without tremors.

In the moment they froze, a deep voice broke through, a middle aged man with a moustache was standing by the grand staircase, brows furrowed, he looked exactly like Bruce yet different, him asking with a booming voice

"who in the hell are you?"

The kids recognized him from the potraits on the manors hallway as Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father.

Ps: Thomas here is cold and stern btw :3

Thomas feeling anger and confusion as these strangers showed up in his house but deciding to push it back for now and focus on stabilizing Bruce, his voice Stern and cold with the precision of the surgeon he is

(He was a tad bit abusive and neglectful as a parent so he was mad at Bruce instinctively)

( i feel like the younger Bruce in here is still about 6 years old)

Them moving Bruce to a guest room and suddenly the sound of small footsteps could be heard, a young boy peeked his head outside the door, it was none other than Bruce himself, tho the kids didn't have time to look at him longer as Thomas snapped at the boy,

"what the hell are you doing here?! Scram before I make you, don't you know not to disturb when I'm busy?"

Little Bruce flinched hard as he apologized repeatedly and was pulled away by a woman who looked like martha, the woman chiding Thomas for his harsh words, saying they were un needed, Thomas just huffed and continued working on older Bruce.

The kids eyes widening as they saw what had just happened before them, the picture perfect image of Thomas Wayne as a loving and kind parent shattering right before their eyes

🧍‍♀️

Lemme know in the comments if you guys want a part 2👉👈

(Also I know I'm not creative since it's always Bruce had a fight with his kids then something bad happens but there's just too many ways to hurt him and idk why I really like hurt bruce..)

[suniix]

mission accomplished | bucky x agent! reader

synopsis | when a mission goes awry secrets are revealed, some more awkward than others

word count | 4.2k

warnings | mentions of blood + injury, light violence

note | this is me trying to get back into writing. it’s also my first time writing for bucky i hope it’s good 💔 also also, i haven’t watched anything after endgame so bear with me (im catching up i swear) i mostly wrote this at 4 am so forgive any errors 🙂‍↕️

The only reason you accepted this task was because during the mission briefing it seemed like a quick and easy job.

It totally didn’t have anything to do with the super soldier currently sitting across from you.

“Alright you two,” Sam called out and you felt the jet begin its descent. “Stick to the plan and we’ll meet at the extraction point.”

Right, the plan.

When Natasha first approached you for the job you were speed walking to a mission briefing you were almost late to. You found it a bit odd considering you almost never go out for missions. You weren’t exactly a field agent, only being called on for low stakes undercover tasks since you were an unfamiliar face or subbing in for those that couldn’t. Otherwise, you just worked behind computers.

“It’s simple; you get in, grab the files, get out.”

You rolled your eyes before looking down at the file she handed you. “It’s never that simple Nat, you know that. Besides, I have things to catch up on here.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong for thinking that. Based on the brief glances you gave the file it was essentially retrieving information in an abandoned hydra facility. If everything went according to plan, which almost never happened, you’d be back that same day.

The meeting room came into view and you handed her back the file. She accepted it with her usual smirk, that kind of smirk that meant she knows more than she’s letting on and made your stomach twist in anticipation for what she had planned.

Before opening the door she paused. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”

You didn’t respond, casting her a nervous look as you debated skipping the whole meeting. She chuckled before opening the door, letting you enter before she followed you in.

Safe to say, you changed your mind once you realized who else was assigned to the mission.

“Hey,” Bucky called out from across from you. He was already out of his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I just zoned out for a bit..” You quickly undid your seatbelt and started grabbing your things while simultaneously trying to ignore the embarrassment warming your ears. Regret settled in your chest— there was no way you’d be able to get through this mission undistracted, not while Bucky was here.

You heard Sam laugh from somewhere in the front. “Eyes on the prize people, can’t afford any distractions.”

He was right. You had to focus on the mission.

You felt the jet settle and begin to hover before a side door automatically opened. You glanced over and despite the darkness you noticed the area was different from what was shown in the mission briefing.

“I thought the drop off point was closer?” You yelled, hoping Sam heard you over the harsh winds.

“I looped around but didn’t see a clear landing spot, this is as close as I can get. You two are going to have to jump.” Sam yelled back.

You heard Bucky curse from beside you and you couldn’t help but let out an irritated sigh.

Great start to the mission.

You peered out the door to take a look at the drop. It wasn’t too bad— for a super soldier. There’s no way you’d be able to land safely, not without taking a few branches to the face on your way down and possibly breaking a bone or two. It was too high to jump regularly and too low for a parachute. You looked around, hoping to find a rope to throw over before Bucky suddenly jumped out without warning.

He landed silently with the skill only a trained soldier would have before gesturing you to follow, holding out his hands. You could faintly make out the words I’ll catch you and you swore your heart jumped out the plane without you.

There was no time to argue—the more time Sam spent hovering in the air the more likely it was that you would draw attention, regardless if the area was abandoned or not.

Trusting his words you jumped, feeling the harsh cold bite from the wind before it was quickly replaced with the warmth only another body could provide. He held you securely while you remained stiff as a board, still processing what you just did.

“Do you always jump out of planes without warning?” You tried to joke in an attempt to calm your racing heart. While your heart might’ve jumped out the moment bucky offered you his arms you were pretty sure your soul was still on the jet.

“Only when I need to.” He responds, gently setting you down and letting go when he’s sure you can stand on your own.

Your earpiece buzzed to life, catching the last bits of Sam’s laugh. “Alright, have fun you two. We’ll meet back in a few hours.”

With that Sam took off, leaving the two of you alone in the woods to walk the rest of the way.

Since joining to work with the Avengers one thing has been engraved into your mind.

Things never go as planned.

It should be obvious—plans change, especially in a field like this. You’ve learned how to adjust in order to accommodate those changes. Most of the time the information you receive before a mission is current, having been verified by multiple agents.

This was not one of those times.

Despite its run down appearance it turns out the facility was in fact not abandoned. You and Bucky quickly realized that once you began to get shot at.

“Fuck!—” You pulled back behind a wall as a bullet hit your side.

To your left across the hallway Bucky shot you a quick glance. Without saying anything he picked up a body that was nearby and used it as a shield against the bullets to cross the hallway and get to you.

“Shit, you okay?” He asked, waiting for the rain of bullets to end before he attempted to peek out and shoot back.

“Yeah totally.” You groaned, attempting to sit up but failing. Earlier, when you two were first noticed, you took a few hits while fighting. Later, your arm was grazed. You didn’t feel it at the moment but now the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and your eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. The blaring noise of the alarm wasn’t helping with the headache you were beginning to develop. You briefly remembered Sam’s words; had you been that distracted?

“Sam, do you copy?” Bucky asked, quickly attempting to shoot the assailants down the hall.

All you heard back was a jumbled mess of words followed by static.

“The walls must be messing with comms,” You groaned, handing him your gun when you noticed he was out of amo.

The stalemate continued for a few more seconds and you could tell Bucky was growing impatient. You two were outnumbered, Bucky would eventually run out of bullets and the agents would eventually close in. You instinctively ghost your hand over your blade to make sure it was still there—it was. There was no way you could fight and Bucky wouldn’t be able to defend both of you forever, but you’d sure as hell try.

Without warning Bucky slung your uninjured arm over his shoulder and began quickly dragging you down the hallway.

Left, right, left, right?—

The frequent turns he was taking only worsened your headache. You wanted to ask if he knew where he was going before he made a sharp turn and pushed past a door just as the footsteps approached. The two of you remained completely still, listening as the footsteps of the soldiers quickly passed by. Once the sound of footsteps disappeared you let out a sigh of relief and fully leaned against the wall before sliding down.

“Finally..” You breathed out, clutching your side. “I thought that only worked in movies..” You mumbled before shrugging off the outer layer of your outfit in order to look at the wound at your side and use it to absorb the blood.

“What?”

Before you got the chance to respond a whirring sound echoed from within the door followed by a harsh click. Bucky wiggled the door handle, but it refused to budge.

You immediately sit up in a panic. “Shit— they trapped us?”

Bucky shakes his head. “The whole building is on lockdown. They’re assuming we’re still looking for the exit and locked all doors to prevent us from leaving.” Bucky steps back while narrowing his eyes at the door. You could only assume he was debating whether or not to break it down.

“How are we going to get out? This place is a maze, completely different from the layout we were given..” You groaned, recalling the information they gave you. It’s clear whoever was running this place had made some upgrades.

Bucky looked over at you, eyes lingering on your bleeding side. “Our best bet is to stay put. The others will eventually realize something went wrong when we aren’t at the extraction point.”

A wave of guilt washes over you when you realize why. You put more pressure on your side, wishing the bleeding would stop entirely. “Eventually?..”

Bucky doesn’t respond, only crouches by your side before gently wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Let me take a look.”

You hesitantly allow him to remove your hand. He’s close, closer than he’d normally allow himself to be around anyone. He stares at your side for a moment longer, an unrecognizable emotion swirling around his blue eyes before he firmly places your hand back.

You know the wound is slightly deeper than the one you received on your arm, but nothing you couldn’t recover from. Still, it didn’t help the fact that it hurt like hell.

“So, how bad is it doc? Am I going to live?” You chuckle before wincing at the motion.

Bucky keeps his hand over yours. “You’ll be fine, just keep putting pressure.”

You nod and he slowly slips his hand away. You momentarily mourn the loss before he sits down next to you, keeping himself between you and the door. The distance is short, still close enough for your knees to brush if anyone moved, close enough to smell whatever cologne or shampoo he used.

“I need a coffee after this..” You mumble, attempting to sit up now that you were beginning to feel an ache in your lower back.

Bucky raised a brow. “A coffee?”

You nod. “Yeah, I always drink one in the morning, but not today.”

“Why not?”

“I was running late.” You breathed out a laugh, remembering your first encounter with the super soldier.

The first time you met him was early in the morning. You were running late for a meeting, because there was no way you would be able to get through the day without your coffee, and quickly turned a corner when you suddenly crashed into someone.

Your coffee spilled all over your clothes.

“What the!—” You immediately stopped once you noticed who you crashed into.

Sergeant James Barnes, or rather, Bucky as most people called him.

His mouth was moving, likely apologizing, but nothing was registering in your head. His eyes were furrowed and apologetic, his hair pulled back, and his skin shiny like he just came back from a workout.

Being this close to him, you realized he smelled surprisingly good.

Your gaze shifted behind him when you noticed a clock hanging on the wall, its ticking taunting you.

“No no, it’s fine! It’s just.. I gotta go!” You quickly rushed off once you remembered where you were headed.

Even though you went the whole day smelling like coffee you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

Running late was starting to become a bad habit, you noticed.

“You think there’s a chance they’ll figure out something went wrong before our pickup time?” You ask, gazing aimlessly at the ceiling.

Bucky shrugged. “If we’re lucky then they’ll already have figured it out.”

The silence that ensued wasn’t awkward, if it was you were too tired to notice. You looked around the room for the first time since you entered and noticed it looked completely unused. The room itself smelled stale and filing cabinets lined the walls with a few drawers left halfway pulled out. Whoever was here last left in a rush—you wonder how long ago that was.

Long enough for the layout to be completely changed. You hope you’ll remember to reprimand whoever was in charge of verifying the accuracy of the mission details.

However long ago that was, it was likely that they expected people to come looking for this place, but they probably never thought two agents would be stuck here waiting for help. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He’s still facing the door, jaw clenched, every part of him coiled like a spring—ready, waiting for something to pass through. It’s clear he’s thinking about something, you wonder if you’ll ever get to know what’s inside his head.

Bucky was only used for very specific missions, and in those cases he was usually accompanied by Steve, Nat, or even Sam. Someone the higher ups knew would be able to ‘handle’ him in case things went south, though they never have (and never will). With missions that required more agents you joined in, but those didn’t happen often. Even when they did, your interactions with the super soldier were limited. It’s not exactly the best idea to talk about mundane things while it’s raining bullets. The only other times you ran into him was during the briefings before a mission or randomly in the tower, and you savored every second. This was one of the few times he was sent out with someone apart from his usual trio and the only time he was sent out with you alone.

Maybe even the last given how messy the situation became.

You don’t know when you zone back into the moment, only becoming aware of it when you realize the alarm has stopped blaring beyond the door. A good sign, maybe they stopped looking for you two. Or maybe they’ve realized where you two are hiding and are on their way to ensure no one makes it out.

At some point Bucky reached over and placed his hand over yours, helping you apply more pressure on your wound. You hadn’t noticed you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve handled them faster.”

You snap your head in Bucky’s direction. “What? No, it’s not your fault.”

Bucky shakes his head, meeting your eyes for what feels like the first time this whole mission. “It is, the first time you got hit I reacted too slow. And now you’re—” He cuts himself off and looks away, clenching his hands.

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, the sting in your side a dull throb now. You’ve lost a decent amount of blood, you think, just enough for it to be worrisome. Maybe it’s the blood loss, but something you’ve been keeping unsaid is on the tip of your tongue.

Would now be a good time to say it? What would you even say?

There’s never a good time, you realize. Between your desk job, the missions, your rare run-ins with each other— this might be the only time you’re alone with him.

The two of you sit there against the wall with unspoken thoughts until you both decide to speak up.

“I like how you smell.”

“I think you’re afraid of me.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Bucky turns his head, brows raised, clearly just as thrown off as you. “Did you just say—?”

The door flew across the room, startling the both of you. Immediately Bucky was on his feet, your gun in his hand, aimed and ready to fire. When the dust settled a figure stepped through the door frame carrying a familiar red white and blue shield.

“It’s Captain America.” You happily cheered, only realizing how loopy you felt after hearing your own voice.

Nat emerged from behind him, rushing to your side. At that moment a wave of sleep hit you, making it harder for you to keep your eyelids open.

What happened after was mainly a blur. You vaguely remember being escorted out of the building and onto the jet. You knocked out on the ride back, briefly waking up when you were being wheeled out. In that small moment you were awake you noticed Bucky talking to Steve, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before he looked away.

You couldn’t forget how sad he looked or the blood that stained his hands, even as your consciousness faded.

You wondered if it was still possible to blame what you said on the blood loss.

Once you woke up, Dr. Cho informed you about what happened. Turns out you were lucky Nat and Steve got there when they did and even luckier that Dr. Cho was there when you were wheeled in, otherwise things would’ve gotten complicated. When you were shot the bullet passed all the way through, meaning you got to skip surgery and head straight into the regeneration cradle.

You healed during the night and were free to leave in the early morning.

Once out of the lab you headed straight to the kitchen, desperate for the coffee you’ve been craving since yesterday. The kitchen is empty, understandably so given the sun is barely peeking past the horizon. It’s the perfect scene for you to reflect on why of all things you had to say ‘I like how you smell’.

While the journey back to the tower remained a blur, what you revealed in that building was clear as day in your mind. The embarrassing secret you revealed followed by Bucky’s heart shattering confession.

You slammed a cup onto the counter.

You kept your hands busy, preparing your coffee, hoping it would distract you from feeling your heart crack. There was no way you would let the conversation end like that. You knew Bucky was never one to talk about his feelings and he likely wouldn’t open up again, but you refused to let the opportunity pass. You had to know why he felt that way and correct him. You had to let him know he was wrong, that there was no universe where you could fear him.

You grabbed your cup of coffee and began heading to your room. Once you were done you would head over to Bucky’s room and—

The sudden collision with something, or rather someone, sent you a few steps back, causing you to spill your coffee all over your clothes.

“I am so—Bucky?”

You pause once you notice who you crashed into and can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vú.

Bucky looks shocked to see you. His eyes immediately look to your side in an almost paranoid manner. “What are you doing up?” He asks.

“I just got out of the lab. I came to get my coffee, but..” You looked down at your coffee soaked clothes.

Bucky winced. “Sorry..”

He rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing some paper towels and passing some to you before helping you clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. As you patted yourself dry you figured now was as good a time as ever. “So, what are you doing up this early?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words before continuing to soak up the mess. “Couldn’t sleep. Tried to let out some energy at the gym.”

Your mouth moved faster than you could think. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to clean an invisible spot on the floor. He refused to make eye contact. You had a feeling you already knew the answer.

It’s no secret Bucky struggles with nightmares. You heard the screaming before Tony soundproofed every room. You also knew about the mandatory therapy sessions and how every time he came back from a rough mission the lights in his room stayed on just a bit longer, like he was trying to keep something at bay. You knew the mess of the last mission likely didn’t help ease his conscience.

“What happened back there wasn’t your fault you know.” You mumbled, but you know he heard you when he stopped wiping the floor. “I.. I should be the one apologizing.”

That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to respond but you quickly cut him off. “I wasn’t focused, I let my personal feelings distract me. And—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I did to make you believe that I’m afraid of you, but I promise that’s the furthest thing I feel when I’m with you.”

“Most people are afraid of me, what I’ve done.” He whispered, but in that empty kitchen you felt like it echoed against every wall.

“I’m not most people. Bucky,” You crouch beside him. “You have been nothing but kind to me, to everyone. You think your past defines you, but I’ve seen who you are now. You’re always looking out for others and taking the hit just so we can make it out unharmed. You’re different now.”

You hesitantly reach out, gently placing your hand over his when he doesn’t pull away. “You carry all this pain like it's your punishment, like saving people and sacrificing yourself is the price you pay for what happened back then, but you don't owe anyone your suffering, Bucky. You deserve more, so much more."

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw clenches, eyes fixed on a crack in the floor like it might split open and hopefully swallow him whole. You can practically feel the war happening behind his blue eyes—old guilt clawing at the edges because of what you just said.

Finally, he exhales through his nose. “Different doesn’t mean good.”

“It does to me.”

He huffs. “Every time we meet it’s like you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That!—” You feel your ears burn in embarrassment. He’s interpreted your skittish behavior around him as fear. “—is for a different reason..”

He looks at you unamused.

“Oh come on..” You groan. “I already embarrassed myself back at the building, don’t make me repeat it..”

When he refuses to answer you can only sigh.

“It’s not that I’m afraid of you, I just don’t know how to act around you without making a fool of myself. As you can clearly see,” You point down at your now coffee stained clothes. “If anything I’m afraid of how I feel about you, because I like you, but I don’t want to ruin what we have or pressure you into anything by saying it!”

The silence is deafening. You feel as though the room is on fire as embarrassment continues to course through your body. You contemplate leaving, slowly beginning to stand when Bucky responds.

“And if I said I was afraid of the same thing?”

You freeze.

“I thought you hated me and that made me hate myself even more.” He continued. “With everything I’ve done I thought there’s no way I’d be able to change your mind, to show you I’m.. different now. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He stood up, throwing the coffee soaked paper towels into the trash. “You never got your coffee, did you?”

“At this point I think it’s a sign that maybe I should stop drinking so much.” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

“So if I asked you out for coffee, you’d say no?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you’re nearly convinced he heard it when you see a hint of a smile on his face. “I never said that..” You mumbled, fiddling with the paper towel still in your hand.

He called your name and you couldn’t resist meeting his gaze. His eyes bore into yours as he hesitantly approached you. “Are you free later? I think I know a place that sells good coffee. I owe you at least one after, well, everything.”

You quickly nodded your head. “Yeah yeah, today’s good, I just gotta..” You look down at your outfit. It’s the same one you wore on the mission—covered in blood, sweat, and now coffee. “.. shower.”

Bucky quickly nodded. “Me too, I’ll uh.. pick you up at three?”

“Ok,” You laughed, waving at him while walking towards the hall. “See you later.”

Once you turned the corner you nearly let out a squeal, causing you to almost crash into Nat, who wore a suspicious smile on her face. “Nat! You scared me, what’re you doing here?” You place your hand over your heart, hoping it’d slow down. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.

“I had a feeling you’d be here, I thought you’d be alone though.” She snuck a glance behind you, clearing having caught you and Bucky together. You try to ignore her by walking away, but she’s quick to catch up. As you two walked further away from the kitchen she bumped her hip with yours.

“So.. besides getting shot and nearly bleeding out, how’d the mission go?” Nat asked.

You took a moment to think of an answer. You were shot, nearly bled to death in a hydra closet, and you revealed to your hallway crush that you liked how he smelled while he was attempting to have a emotional conversation with you.

“I’m so glad I took that mission.”

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

masterlist

[halfadiamond]

Here’s the idea I was thinking of based off this post, I still haven’t found the exact post I was describing but I don’t think it was omegaverse centric

Omegaverse AU (but the men are alphas and are mated to each other)

TF141 where you’re an omega who’s the medic for the men. At first, you guys get along fine, they consider you to be a great medic and a great friend.

They think you’re shy and adorable.

Soap is always coming by your area to talk to you, he thinks you’re just so cute and it becomes like an extrovert adopting an introvert.

Gaz is a bit more able to handle your shyness and isn’t as extroverted as Soap but he does come by often to talk to you.

Price thinks of you like a little deer where you get caught off guard easily or how you’re quick to run off when flustered. He even gave you the nickname Their Little Doe. It ended up sticking and all the men call you that.

Ghost doesn’t mind the quietness. He’s a bit quiet as well but he says a snarky comment or two and loves seeing you laugh at it. Other times, you guys are just focused on your own work but enjoy the silent company of the other.

It was a friendship until it wasn’t. They knew you were an omega and they were alphas. You guys all got too close and you felt that they were courting you by the way they acted:

They would have a chair ready for you at the mess hall

If they knew you wanted extras/ the food was a favorites of yours, they’d always have it ready for you

You started receiving gifts from them such as sketches, anything that you’re interested, flowers, and they even started giving you some of their clothes to wear (but you think it’s them wanting to get you used to their scents)

They always had to come see you no matter if they were exhausted, they needed to see you and see how your day went

You even ask the men and they act a bit oblivious to their actions but maybe they’re just shy so you go along with it

This little game continues on for awhile until you tell them that you would like to mate with them and you’re surprised when they tell you that it’s too soon/ they’re not ready yet

You’re a bit confused but decide to wait, you endure through your heats by yourself (it’s not as strong with your medications so it’s manageable), the waiting turns into six months then into almost a year and you ask again

Same answer as before. Now you’re starting to feel that they don’t want to mate with you but you try to remain positive until you reach about a year and a half

So when you go off to Las Almas with Ghost and Soap as their medic. Ghost and Soap notice that you’re keeping your distance from them, or more like a professional distance; they first assume that it’s because you’re in an area with men you’re unfamiliar with. PriceGaz are a bit upset because you haven’t contacted them that much but conclude that you’re just busy.

This is where Graves comes in. He meets you and is smitten. He thinks you’re adorable and while the men are playing stupid, Graves begins courting you as well and while you’re upset that the men didn’t act bold like Graves, you can’t help but fall for his charms and boldness. Graves is smart and keeps this under the down low so Ghoap don’t notice.

Unlike the other men, he doesn’t wait long before asking you to mate with him and you accept. However Graves tells you that he’ll mate with you when your heat comes.

Graves betrayal comes and you happen to be there as well. And during the little talk before the action happens, Graves holds out his hand and tells you to come over here because he doesn’t want you in the crossfire.

Ghoap expected you to say no that you don’t work with traitors but you don’t. You take his hand and effectively betray them as well.

Now Ghoap has to figure out three things:

How are they going to explain this to Price and Gaz

How can they make this right and get you back

How can they hide a body

It could also work with you already being their omega and following something similar to my other story, You Think It’s Love, maybe it’s better for it to follow something similar to this 🤷🏻‍♀️ cuz I can’t really think of as to why they wouldn’t mate with reader.

Like here’s the reasons I can think of:

They’re already smitten with reader and too scared that being mated will make them too obsessed/ possessive

They don’t think they deserve reader until they work on themselves but they still want to show her that they’re interested in her

They think she may not be fully ready for a bond with four other alphas even if she says she is

I realized it’s similar in plot to this one shot (halfway through writing this) so I’m going to give credit to it because I remember loving the plot. I’m not sure if she feels comfortable with me tagging her but I wanted to give credit: @/lay-z

Also the divider is made by me (it’s pretty basic but it’s cute)

[borathae]

Boyfriends? | JJK x MYG

“Yoongi doesn’t do labels, while Jungkook loves labels. So one night, he asks Yoongi ‘what are we?’, hoping that the last four years together weren’t just casual for him.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Vampire!Jungkook

Genre: established relationship!AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, slight suggestive themes

Warnings: just some anxious thoughts, this is a post sex cuddles scene, Koo being a little brat, Yoongi being a fond brat tamer, he tickles him hehe, snuggles & kisses, also! mention of blood drinking as part of his training to become a good vampire <3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on an alternative fictional universe and does not correlate with any real life people. I do not support the shipping of the actual members.

Wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: i love sanguis!yoonkook so much :( omfg this hurt me because i just love them so much and my heart exploded :( istfg this break was so good for me, i have so many new ideas already heheh i can't wait to bring a very lore-y multi chaptered fic very soon hoohoh <3 but for now enjoy this lil yoonkoo fluff <3 also! whenever i write something for them just know that i am channeling hyyh!yoonkook 💔

Yoongi doesn’t define his sexuality. Neither his romantic attraction. He thinks that it is a rather stupid thing to do. He never truly understood the appeal of it nor felt it necessary to do.

“Why should I put a label on myself just so other people are satisfied?”

Because that is what it is for him. Satisfaction of other people. He should put himself into a box just so they can sleep better at night. Well, fuck them. Yoongi is way too old to live for strangers. He knows what he likes and other people can get fucked. They’ll find out who he likes when he allows it.

Jungkook defines his sexuality. And his romantic attraction. For most of his life, he felt like he didn’t belong. Into society, into groups, into life. So learning control and finally being able to be part of something again, Jungkook also feels it important to define who he is.

“I can finally be part of a group. I’m so happy.”

Because that’s what he is these days. Happy. A very happy bisexual man who doesn’t care about the gender of his lovers and who falls for personality.

And so it happens that “I hate labels”-Yoongi and “I love my label”-Jungkook are dating. At least Jungkook thinks that they are. They never really defined it – put a label on it so to speak.

But it must be that they are dating. After all, they are sharing a blanket as they are relaxing in front of the fireplace. They each only wear boxers and a tanktop which in itself is such an intimate look to share. The rug under their bodies is soft and heaps of pillows surround them.

Yoongi is using a few of them to keep himself propped up as he writes anecdotes in the book he is reading. Jungkook is lying on his tummy, watching the flames dance. Music is playing. Lofi hip-hop. Sometimes, he feels Yoongi’s fingertips dance down his back. It makes him shiver every time it happens. Jungkook feels exhausted, but he can’t fall asleep.

He flips his head to the other side, looking up at Yoongi.

The latter notices and gives him a glance. He runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, making him shudder in a good way.

“How is your head doing?” he asks.

“Heavy.”

“But no pain?”

He shakes it, “no, just so heavy. Hyung, it’s so heavy a-and I’m so tired.”

“Relax, bub. That’s normal.”

Yoongi is Jungkook’s mentor. Before Yoongi, Jungkook was unable to exist within the human world because he would have ripped through anything that breathed. With Yoongi’s help, he learned how to be normal again and because the road to perfection wasn’t finished yet, they used tonight to train.

“You are ready for the next step in mastering your urges”, Yoongi told him and then monitored Jungkook as he drank from a blood bag filled with human blood.

Up until this point, they merely trained with animal blood. At first Jungkook was very confused, “but I thought that I shouldn’t drink human blood? At all. Never.”

To which Yoongi assured him, “completely staying away from it, will only do the opposite. You need to learn how to handle it, so that if you accidentally drink it, you don’t become violent.”

With Yoongi’s reassurance, Jungkook choked down the blood deliciously and if it wasn’t for the older vampire, he would have lost control.

But he didn’t. Yoongi took his mind off of it in the typical, amazing way Yoongi often takes Jungkook’s mind off the bloodlust. And Jungkook wanted it. It felt so good. Quite frankly, he didn’t want it to stop.

Yoongi pulls his hand back and continues to scribble in his book. Jungkook is thinking. Yoongi calls him bub and bun and Kookie, but does it mean anything? Yoongi allows him to cuddle into him, but does he want the same? Yoongi fucks him, but does the sex even mean anything to him?

It has been two years since the world became peaceful and four years since they met and not once has this relationship been defined. Yoongi doesn’t call Jungkook his boyfriend. He calls him “my boy” or “my Kookie.” But never my boyfriend. What is he is just a good friend to him? What if Yoongi doesn’t want to put a label on them?

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Are we dating?”

Yoongi lowers the book, “what do you mean?”

“Am I your boyfriend?”

Yoongi widens his eyes, blinking them in confusion.

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“Just feeling anxious.”

“Jungkookie, hey”, Yoongi softens his voice, “just relax. You’re okay, everything will be okay.”

“Please don’t avoid my question”, Jungkook insists anxiously. Is this it? Four years of intimacy, of building trust and bonding and it never meant the same to Yoongi?

“Of course you’re my boyfriend.”

Jungkook’s chest instantly stops tightening. His body tingles.

“You silly boy, do you seriously think I’m like this with someone I’m not dating?”

“You’re a really kind person.”

Yoongi chuckles, eyes soft in adoration. He pinches Jungkook’s cheek.

“You little bun, that’s not the same.”

“We never made it official.”

“I didn’t think it necessary. I thought it was pretty clear that we are dating once this”, he gestures between them, “became regular.”

“I guess, but I was thinking. About labels and how you hate them and yeah. I got scared that we aren’t official for you.”

“We are.” Yoongi pushes the pillows aside and lies down to face Jungkook. He tugs a strand of hair behind his ear. “If I’m not showing it enough for you, you have to tell me. I’m not good with reading signs or getting hidden messages. You gotta tell me directly what you want.”

“I know.”

“So? Do you want me to show it more?”

“No, you’re showing me that you love me. I think I just needed to hear it tonight.”

“I understand. You can tell me if you need that. You know me, I’m not gonna recite love poems to you on my own.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I know you, hyung. I think it’s cute.”

Yoongi grimaces. “If you say so.”

“I do. You are so cute.”

Yoongi chuckles, “you’re aware that I rearranged your insides just moments prior?”

“I know.” Jungkook closes his eyes and settles into the pillow. “Only cute people can do that.”

Yoongi laughs, “okay, okay you’re being an idiot. I get it”, he says, leaning in to kiss the shell of Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook relaxes his muscles, enjoying the soft tingles rising all over his skin as Yoongi kisses every inch of his upper back. His face next. Jungkook rolls to his back so Yoongi can reach it better. Their eyes meet. Yoongi cups his cheek and kisses him. Jungkook seriously thinks that it feels so much better now that he knows it’s official. Every second, every moment, every touch exists to strengthen their relationship as boyfriends. Seriously, if Jungkook’s heart was still beating, it would race like crazy.

He giggles. Yoongi smiles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m happy.”

Yoongi kisses him with a smile before he begins littering his face with kisses.

“I’m happy too, bub.”

“Oh, Yoongi”, Jungkook lets out and unable to control the surge of happiness, he shoots up to take Yoongi into the tightest hug human- and vampirekind has ever seen.

“Okay. This is happening”, Yoongi chuckles, letting it happen without hugging him back. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, but simply because Jungkook is squeezing his arms against his sides.

“I love you so much”, Jungkook giggles, shaking Yoongi from left and right.

“I love you too, but please stop that”, Yoongi laughs, head thrown back and bouncing around.

“No. You’re my stim toy”, Jungkook says and squeezes him tighter, making a cute sound for it.

“Whatever that is”, Yoongi laughs, taking the squeezing until it starts hurting. Then he begins to fight back. Softly of course, finally using his strength to shove Jungkook’s arms open.

“How are you doing that?” Jungkook gasps, trying with all his might to bear hug Yoongi again, but it is useless.

“I’m the strongest, remember?”

Jungkook’s back hits the rug, his wrists get pinned by one hand. Yoongi looks at him as if he wanted to take him to euphoria and back. Just for a second because then pure mischief burns in his eyes. Jungkook feels said mischief very soon as Yoongi begins tickling his sensitive side.

“No! Stop! Hyung please stop”, Jungkook squeals, laughing so loudly it bounces off the walls. He tries to fight his wrists free, kicking his feet helplessly. But it is useless. Yoongi is stronger and he is hellbent on getting Jungkook back for always being a little brat.

“Hyung I’m sorry”, Jungkook laughs, crying tears.

“Not enough”, Yoongi coos, changing sides.

“Ah! Please I’m gonna pee myself, stop! Please”, Jungkook squeals, laughing oh so much that his mouth truly cannot open any further.

“Mhm, alright”, Yoongi rasps and stops. He lets go of his wrists, sliding his hands to the smallest part of his waist to hold him. Somehow in their tickle match, Yoongi slid between Jungkook’s legs. They are thrown over his lap, resting their weight on him.

Jungkook recovers with little gasps and gulps. The first thing he does is wipe the tears from his blushy cheeks then he pouts at Yoongi.

“This was totally not necessary and very mean.”

Yoongi chuckles, “for all the bratting you did this week? It’s a mild punishment.”

Jungkook pouts harder, “I can’t help it. Besides, you’re too sensitive. I’m not even bratting.”

“Careful”, Yoongi squeezes Jungkook’s waist. The latter squeals and writhes.

“Sorry.”

“Better.” Yoongi smiles, bending down. His hands run along Jungkook’s torso until he has to rest them on each side of his head. “You’re so fucking pliable.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook sighs, melting into a puddle.

Like this. Underneath Yoongi and with his head foggy in feel good emotions, Jungkook gets kissed. He wraps his limbs around Yoongi and deepens the kiss. This might be one of the best nights of his life. He is his boyfriend. And now he is making out with him. This is the best night ever.

[womanofwords]

Darling Demon (Part 19)

Yandere!batfam x betrothed!neglected!male!reader x yandere!demon!spouse

TW: public humiliation, consensual non-consent.

Azrir had won. They'd taken your virginity at long last, and it felt like fireworks were exploding in your head the whole time. Yeah, being married to them for eternity would be pretty damn good. Most demons would then parade their human around while tormenting them in whatever ways they wanted for the rest of eternity, but Azrir couldn't afford to do such a thing. A prize like you had to be kept safe, after all.

And definitely bragged about.

"Little prize, I have an offer for you," Azrir said. "I've been meaning to show you off, but I had to wait until your virginity was taken so the other demons could smell the sex on you."

"You guys can smell that?" you whimpered.

"Yes, darling. In order to show you off, I'll need to doll you up, and that means bathing you."

Gently, Azrir took you to a bathtub and drew water for you. "I am only going to use unscented soap on you so the scent of sex can still be detected," they explained, as sweat was scrubbed off you. Their hands were thorough, but not sexual, which felt like a relief. Thick, clawed hands rubbed shampoo into your hair. "You will be clean for this demonstration," Azrir said.

"Azrir, who are you going to show me off to?"

"Some of the lower demons. Winning a human spouse is a high honour for us. I want to show them what they will never have."

Humans were a status symbol? Well, that got you thinking. "Azrir, if human spouses are a status symbol, does that make me a trophy husband?" you asked.

Azrir paused, their hands temporarily freezing while soap suds latched onto their claws. "Technically, yes," they admitted.

"Well, Azrir, if I'm really going to be paraded around as your little trophy, then I should get some sort of reward. After all, I have to be actually tempting for this to work."

Azrir forced themselves not to laugh. Here you were, negotiating your way through their own display while being bathed like a show dog. "Very well, Y/N. What are your demands?"

"First, I want to be able to shapeshift on command, too. My family has a tendency of looking for me, and I don't want to be recognisable. Second, curse Damian into compulsively sucking his thumb explicitly while he is trying to be intimidating or cause pain."

"Consider both of those things done, little prize," Azrir said.

"Also, when we get back, I'm going to drink a cup of sex potion, tie you to the headboard, and top you like it's my only reason for existing."

Azrir's mouth curled into a large smirk. "Deal, little human. Now, put on this outfit and let's go taunt some grunts."

*_*_*_*_*_

The outfit Azrir picked out for you was merely a shirt that went halfway down your thighs with the words "AZRIR'S PRIZE" written on the front. "I don't have to remember lines, do I?" you asked.

"No, Y/N," Azrir said. "I must warn you, little toy, that my hands are often going to . . . have a little fun with you, but nothing too far. Just enough to torment those peons."

"I can live with that," you said, as Azrir hoisted you over their shoulder and began to take you to the ring of lust.

You were ogled a lot. You grew up not drawing much attention while with humans, but here, you were drooled over. You really were a prize.

"Give us a piece," a demon growled, reaching towards you. Azrir grabbed their hand between theirs and squeezed it, hard.

"Touch this human, and I shall eat you," they hissed. Demons fled. Azrir took you off their shoulder and cooed at you. "You poor thing, that must have been a nasty thing to see. There, there, I'm here."

You arrived in the ring of lust and met two demons that were significantly smaller than Azrir. "Azrir, what brings you to us?" one of them asked.

"Bringing you motivation," Azrir said, showing you off with pride. "I used to be a lowly and weak demon such as yourselves, but then I toughened myself up and fought for a human spouse. This is what you can have if you work hard. A little human to do . . . this to."

Azrir's hands went up your shirt, and you stifled a yelp. "This is a bit much!" you whimpered.

"I know," Azrir taunted, grinning as the hand over your crotch got more adventurous and audacious. "Want it to stop?"

You felt dizzy, head spinning. "No, Azrir. Please keep going."

"That's what I like to hear."

"So you brought your human spouse here to . . . taunt us?" the first one asked, notes of disbelief in their voice.

"No, of course not!" Azrir lied. "This is what you could have if you applied yourself."

"If that's the case, why are you blatantly pleasuring it in front of us?"

"Because I can and he's mine. And if you just put in the effort to be stronger, you could have one."

You were going crazy. If Azrir kept going, you would legit go insane. You weren't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when they stopped and put you back over their shoulder.

"I'll see you around, peasants," they laughed, taking you back home to your bed while groping your behind.

Once you were alone together, you were glad to remove that damn shirt. "Honey, you did so well," Azrir said, smothering you in kisses. "And now, your rewards." Azrir snapped their fingers, and changes occurred.

Your body tingled, but only temporarily and it was over so quickly. That had to be the manifestation of your powers. You only really needed to change one thing, really.

"My love, you have shapeshifted your loins," Azrir said, looking down at your dick with alarm.

"All the better for pleasuring you with," you said, as you got yourself the lube and a cup of aphrodisiac.

Your mother screamed with pain as the scoreboard went up again. "WHY ISN'T THAT DEMON GETTING OFF OF MY SON?" she screamed.

"They can't. Your son is on top of the demon, and having a lot of fun with it," one of the demons said.

Limbs were sawed off again, and your mother screamed. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"We can't. It's honestly entertaining," another demon said. "Azrir knows what they're doing."

The numbers on the scoreboard spun again, and your mother's blood spurted in celebration.

Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @c4xcocoa, @darkmoka, @fightmebissh, @bloobewy, @chi1lllb, @cqerrz, @heart-cream, @noone1233nobody, @type-ink, @sonyboos, @atlasbatman05, @eyeless-kun, @zomqiez.

First

Previous

Next

[outcast-shadow]

Hello you may call me Mr.Clockwork sorry to be a bother if I am but would Doey like a hug by chance maybe even just a little talk between me and him it must be hard having to take care of so many kids that have been through so much not to mention himself to if I may ask of course may I just ya know sit down and have a nice chat with him?

Also keep up the amazing work with your art, just seeing it after having to get out of school makes me have some spirit to keep going! And your Doey design is amazing my friend.

Deepest apologies for taking so long to start responding to asks! I'm getting back into the loop of things, now that I am done with Summer classes. I want to give you my gratitude for your loving words. It means a lot to me to know that my art is able to give you the boost you need to keep pushing forward. Knowing that I have that kind of impact for others with my art is what makes me want to keep pursuing this path to make a difference in someone's day, even if it's just a moment to have a good laugh or smile! Thank you for your support and sending you a big digital hug!

[kandlewick]

Your janitor au is amazing. There’s the perfect amount of angst. How long do you think the janitor would stay working in NRC until they stop believing in Crowley and just leave?

Do you think they can get a citizenship anywhere despite having no records? (Highest chance is Briar Valley if the janitor asks Malleus to pull some strings.)

In order to leave, what they need most is money, basic knowledge about this world, and an identity, I think.

thank you sooo much!!! im so glad youre enjoying it!!!

i think the janitor would stay in NRC as long as possible because of those reasons. they have no identification, no citizenship, little money, and a lack of understanding of how this world functions. as much as they think theyre a rough and tough survivor, i also think their biggest weakness is an unwillingness to try new things. what theyve been doing works so theyll stick with it until it no longer does and when their luck eventually runs out, they will probably panic and have to start over from the beginning all over again.

a BIG issue with them 'post graduate' is if the janitor and co are able to either beat or avoid malleus' overblotting entirely. i believe it is possible to avoid it or at least lessen the severity of it because the janitor starts off pretty close to the diasomnia quad in comparison to the original yuu who stuck close to the other first years. while sebek is a difficult nut to crack for the janitor, malleus, lilia and silver are much easier to befriend and get close to.

malleus is an easy win. he was the janitor's first friend (other then grim) in twisted wonderland, so theyre both pretty close and have get togethers once a week.

lilia grew close to janitor fast because they will actually eat his food and hand him an empty tuperware container back for more. theyre also a bit wiser (and potentially, per the reader's judgement, older then yuu) so theyre probably able to vibe with lilia better then yuu could.

silver and janitor got pretty friendly when they had to help him in between classes due to his spelldrive injury due to ruggie's meddling.

and i think with how adamant the janitor would want to go home, the topic of leaving and loss would be an actual conversation and argument that would happen earlier on between malleus and the janitor and less something that gets bottled up until an overblot occurs. idk though! id never want to downplay lilia's role in malleus' overblot because its incredibly precious and sweet and ugh i love found family but i think it would help malleus out better if he wasn't like. bombarded with things that triggered his fear of abandonment during the same week lmao!!

i uh went on a tangent. but. depending on how close they get, i could see the janitor either leaving to the scalding sands with kalim, becoming a glorified cheka sitter with leona, or staying in briar valley with malleus. can you tell i have ships in my head? lol