#for ONCE it's not the ocean though /silly

[doodlejoltik]

good doggie 🐕

(he'll be fiiiiiine. dw about it! <3)

[ghostisredacted]

Sayer fan.... So awesome who was your favorite silly AI

ohhh hmm its genuinely hard to choose<//3 i like them all for different reasons tbh..

[heartsiebyul]

Hello!! Can you do Floyd, Jade, and Azul but with a GN! Reader that is mesmerised by their merforms?

Thank you! <3

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

artwork: @kanaelog21

Still Mesmerized

featuring — Octavinelle : Azul : Jade : Floyd x reader!

You were only seven the first time you stumbled into a lagoon cave.

It was the kind of day meant for exploring, hot sun, sweaty and scraped knees from climbing too many rocks along the shoreline. The fishermen said to stay away from the far end of the cove, where the water glowed strange colors and whispered with echoes. But you were curious. So you wandered past warning signs and covered rocks, chasing the pull of something you couldn’t name.

And then, you saw them.

The water in the hidden lagoon shimmered like glass, and three shapes moved beneath it, graceful, alien, beautiful. A boy with octopus limbs curling protectively around him. A twin pair, tails flicking with practiced ease, hair waving like sea grass.

You dropped your flashlight.

All three turned toward you, startled.

You should have screamed. But you just… stared.

"Whoa, a human shrimp," one of them said, a shock seen in his face. He swam up to the edge, baring sharp teeth in a wild grin.

"Floyd," the calmer twin murmured, gliding beside him. “Don't scare them.”

Azul, the one with the tentacles, looked like he wanted to vanish into ink.

"You're real," you whispered, wide-eyed. “Mermaids are real.”

"Merfolk," Azul corrected, though his voice was barely a squeak. "Technically."

There was an awkward pause, until the eel twin closest to you suddenly grinned and leaned in, eyes glinting with curiosity.

"I'm Floyd!" he said, flashing pointed teeth. "And that's my twin, Jade."

Jade offered a graceful wave, his tone smooth and polite. “A pleasure to meet you, human.”

Azul, still half-submerged, fiddled with the edge of one of his tentacles, then cleared his throat. “I’m Azul Ashengrotto. And, um… you are?”

You blinked, heart pounding. “I’m… (name).”

Floyd’s tail flicked. “Heh. (name) the human shrimp~ That’s funny!”

You didn’t mind the nickname. Not really. You were too busy drinking in the moment, their voices, their shapes, the glimmer of scales and the swirl of tentacles. You’d never seen anything like them.

You visited them every summer after that. It was your secret, a dream you returned to like a favorite bedtime story. You never spoke of the lagoon to anyone, not even your parents. Some days you brought shiny things, or books with ocean tales, or just your silly little stories. Azul and Jade listened. While Floyd teased. Sometimes they played. But the awe you felt? That never faded.

Years passed.

You were seventeen now. Taller. Older. Sharper in some ways, but not in others. Your heart still pulled you toward the sea every chance it got. You hadn’t seen them in years due to some problems. But today, something tugged at your gut. Something electric.

You slipped past the rocks, climbed down into the lagoon cave.

And there they were.

Jade was lounging on a smooth rock, his tail coiled beneath him, body glistening with scales. He looked taller, sleeker. Mature. His sharp eye met yours, and a smile slowly curved his lips.

Floyd was in the water, tail flicking lazily as he floated upside down. “Shrimpyyyy,” he called, voice playful and deep now. “you're back! Look how biiig we got~”

And Azul, dear Azul, was hovering just beneath the surface, his octopus limbs shifting in the water like blooming ink. His face flushed the moment your eyes met.

You couldn’t speak at first. You just stared.

Your breath caught.

Not out of fear, but admiration.

They were breathtaking.

“Still mesmerized, I see,” Jade said smoothly, tilting his head as he approached you.

“I never forgot,” you whispered, stepping closer to the water. “Not even once.”

Azul surfaced slowly, brushing back his wet hair. “You’ve grown,” he murmured. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back…”

“You think I’d forget about you guys?” you smiled softly. “About this place? About the merboys in my dreams?”

Floyd’s grin widened, and he shot out of the water, splashing you in the process. “We missed ya too, shrimpy~! You look different! Taller! Prettier~” He circled you in the water, his long tail brushing your ankles beneath the surface.

You laughed, heart racing.

This was real.

Still real.

Even now, when you were no longer a kid full of fantasies, but a teen with a fluttering heart and eyes that couldn’t look away.

Azul floated closer, voice quiet and with hesitation. “Would… you like to stay a while?”

You nodded.

Because how could you not?

The lagoon still shimmered like a dream, but the way your heart beat now, was something new. Something dangerous. Something wonderful.

They weren’t just merboys anymore.

They were something more.

And you were still utterly, beautifully, hopelessly mesmerized.

LMAOOO I don’t know if you want a separate one but this idea just came to me so I did a one shot, tell me tho if you guys want a separate headcanon for each 💗

[sunniepoo]

I NEED more of the obx/reader love islane PLEEK 😭😭😭 jj next pls pls pls

love island!jj

jj is an og boy through and through, i have no clue why but something about him screams being in the original line up. the public love him from the moment he comes on, from his looks to his personality he already becomes a bit of a fan favourite

i feel like you would also be in the original line up however you wouldn’t be coupled together, i think it’d be a situation where the public chooses who should go together and honestly he’s gutted. his eyeballs nearly popped out when he saw you and in his head he’s praying that the public chose you to be with him but to his dismay it was not the case

but that doesn’t stop either of you, it was easy to fall for him with his jokey, playful manor but still that masculine presence that follows him - i think the moment where the two of you’d click is when your playing a game around the fire pit and you mention something about the ocean or surfing and it just clicks for him that he needs to get you in his bed as soon as possible

i think it’s only a matter of time before he’s pulling you for chats and slowly flirting his way into your heart, during one of the first recouplings he picks you and honestly that’s only the beginning for the two of you, it’s really sweet and romantic from there on and you become a public favourite quite quickly (sort of like lana and ron s9)

the main major stump between the two of you is when bombshells come in and neither of you have communicated well about that situation so when you see him cracking on with another girl that’s not you, it genuinely shatters your heart into a million

i feel like we see this in obx and i can see it translate into this very well is jj’s fear of intimacy and closeness, for him he could care less about the bombshell but it’s the idea that you and him have been getting so close it’s causing him to freak out and that’s how he finds himself flirting with someone’s name he can barely remember

and before he can even explain himself or even talk to you, everyone’s gathering around the fire pit and he’s being chosen leaving you single - he couldn’t hate himself more in that moment because the idea of you going home genuinely makes him want to leave with you but production comes through and you’re being sent on a date ( really pulling a mimii on this one s11)

following that it’s just a bit of back and forth of arguing and getting back at each other before he sits you down and just breaks, he starts pouring his heart out and you start to realise that whatever anger you have is not worth it

not to say it doesn’t cause a stump in your relationship but your connection with him is stronger than the anger you have. truly once you guys get over that it’s so so sweet and heartwarming

you’d 100% be the very loud, active couple like everyone else is complaining at how your going at it and he genuinely has no shame and doesn’t care - he’s eating you out under those covers with no shame

you guys going to the hideaway would go so viral just cause of how fucked out you look after (lowk like in love island usa when kenny and jaNa came out) hair is a mess and everyone is making memes about how he gives it good

casa amour is such a realisation for him at how much he needs you to keep his mood up because for the first time he is just so out of it and it’s solely because he misses you - the casa recoupling is so cute because you literally run to him and he’s looking at you so in love

like i said casa is such a realisation for him that it doesn’t take long for him to make you his girlfriend and drop the l bomb and if people though you were loud before, god were they not prepared

people have been rooting for you since like day one, when they saw his face when you’d strutted in so it was a very clear and obvious win, and all hell breaks loose when you announce your first kid a couple years later and all you can think is how this started from a silly show you went on for fun

[elysianightsss]

Pen Pal Price Part Two🫧🍑

nsfw ahead so I’ll cut it off at that point…reader is also described as chubby below because I am so they are too lol.

-

His voice startles you to the point where you visibly flinch, it’s nothing like how you imagined it to be. First of all, you didn’t know he was British. The accent that wraps around his words so sharply is one you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on in this moment.

His voice is deep, rumbles out somewhere from within his chest. It vibrates through the phone and through you. For him your honeyed voice drips into him like the sweetest summer wine.

“Sound so pretty.” You hear him mutter, barely a whisper but definitely something he was trying to hide. Your cheeks burn as you blush hard, your bottom lip caught between your teeth while you think of what to say to the man you’ve been writing to for weeks on end.

So many words exchanged and yet now you’re at a loss. Can’t think properly, it begs the question; how will you react when you meet in person?

“I haven’t got long, I guess now’s the time I tell you what I do for a living.” He chuckles lightly and you wish you could see his face while he does.

“Sounds intriguing.” You frown though your face is still smile stricken.

“Oh you bet it is love. Very dangerous, rough. I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

“Excuse me good sir, I live for danger. Did I not tell you how I dangerously painted the spare bedroom the other day? Though I don’t think it went well.” You joked looking over at the room that was half done and had paint streaks pointing in all different directions.

“Are you doubting your mad painting skills?” Your heart soared at the joke, at his laugh, just all of this. Being able to speak to him properly, being able to communicate more easily without waiting a whole week for his response to arrive by post. Shifting through the mail everyday desperate to read his words. You hadn’t felt this happy in years.

“Maybe just a little.” There’s a pause, and you think you hear some background chatter, something about unit leaving and someone definitely says captain, “maybe you could help me?”

“I definitely will.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, it’s so sure and so final. It says a lot about him. You’re desperate to know more. “I’m sorry love, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow? Same time?”

And he does, you lunge for the phone practically jumping through the air to answer him. You chat about useless things, have silly little conversations about everyday life. There are days when you think it’s his day off work, those days he stays on the phone to you for hours. Those days are your favourite.

He tells you about the new book he got and even reads you a few chapters while you cook dinner, he makes you promise to cook him a meal sometime. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Again he loves the domesticity of it all, how prefect you are in his eyes, though his ocean blues haven’t actually seen you yet. What a perfect little wife you would make. He knows it’s far too soon to think about things like that but he cannot help himself.

The way you fly away with yourself, talking about what you’re doing that day or joking about something you saw on tv or giggling about the cupcakes you were making because the icing went wrong making what you piped look like pigs instead of the unicorns you were going for, for you niece’s birthday party.

He listens with his eyes closed, dreaming of the day he comes back from deployment. The day he comes back to you, to home smelling of freshly baked goods. His pretty lady waiting for him all smiles and giggles. He wishes.

“Um..” you pause unsure, wondering what if he says no.

“What is it love?” He asks so worried. So ready to fix any problem you throw his why. Once again though you hesitate and once more he encourages you, “Come on pretty lady, tell me. What’s up?” You let the nickname you’ve reprimanded him about numerous times slide with what you’re about to ask.

“D-Did you want t-to video call?” He grins at how fucking adorable you are. The way you stutter just asking a simple question like that. He bites back a groan at the way he stiffens in his trousers. Dirty old man.

“I would love to.” He of course then had to explain he had a flip phone. You laughed hard at him and said he would need a smartphone. You had no idea he would go and buy one just to video call you with. Another thing you reprimand him for, spending his hard earned money so easily like that. His little lady nagging him, and all he does is smile at the sound. He loves it.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the phone rings. A lot like the first time he called you. You had talked him through the set up and helped him understand what an app is and how to call on text on a smart phone. And finally, you told him how to video call. Which app to press, you were just explaining how it works when your phone begins to buzz with ‘John💕 is FaceTime you’ popping up on the screen. Your number of course being the first one he added.

You can’t help but feel nervous, checking you look semi okay on the screen before pressing the green answer button. Then your breath is knocked out of you so hard you actually choke, John fussing about getting some water and breathing for him goes in one ear and out the other. You can’t look away from him even as you catch your breath.

He’s nothing like you pictured and yet he’s perfect.

He looks like the kind of man you picture when you read romance novels and the kind of man that sneaks into the dreams that have you waking up hot under the collar and panties sticking to you uncomfortably. The little description of himself you asked for certainly did not do him justice.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Even though you frown, you can’t stop a smile from splitting your face.

You’ve got chubbier cheeks and thicker thighs than most girls, something you’re insecure about and john can tell. But fuck you look gorgeous to him. Over the next few weeks John catches on to just how badly you feel about your body image, the way you put yourself down in favour of supermodels, the way you wear oversized clothing to cover yourself up. He finds himself grumbling, hating it each second more than the last.

He understands how badly beauty culture has fucked over women who are genuinely beautiful but are made to feel like they’re nothing. He gets it, he does. But he certainly doesn’t agree. Especially not with you. He finds himself dreaming of those squishable cheeks of yours, the way you’re so soft around the edges, he can tell.

You completely did him in last Monday, it’s the middle of winter for goodness sake, how did he know that you’d be wearing shorts when he FaceTimed you. Gym shorts that hugged your plump ass so fucking perfectly, that flashed your thick thighs to him. Christ, he’s been thinking about those pretty thighs all week long. When he’s running drills, your thighs are on his mind. When he’s planning out a mission with his unit, your thighs are on his mind. And when he’s alone at night with his hand wrapped around his swollen cock, your thighs are on his mind.

He can’t stand it anymore, it’s been agonising with how busy he’s been not calling you, not seeing you or hearing your voice. No knowing what you’ve been up to or how your day has gone. He calls and he praises the Lord above for bringing you to him, when you answer. A prayer on his lips, a beg for you to become his wife one day when you’re there smiling in the cutest silk pyjama set he’s ever seen. It hugs you exquisitely, showing off your rounded edges and all John can think about is how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your tummy.

You’re clearly fresh out the shower or bath with your damp hair and freshly wash face, but John’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life, in fact he tells you so. You haven’t felt your cheeks burn the way they did then, well maybe one other occasion.

“Love?”

“Yes John?”

“Would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow? At that cafe you like?” He’s hopeful when he asks, you can not only hear it in his voice but see it in his face. “I’m in the area for work and have a few days where I’m free and I’d love to see you.”

You can’t recall a time in your life where all you did was smile, but since you found John, you don’t remember what not smiling all the time was like. You don’t remember anything other than how happy he makes you. So you take a breath, you muster up the courage and say yes.

“I’d love to see you too John. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer knew the statistics about long-distance relationships—you knew he did, after all, he’d mindlessly mentioned them to you so many times, never realizing that every time he did, it felt like twisting the knife. but despite the initial struggles and the first tough month apart, it started to seem like they really didn’t apply to the two of you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x bau!female reader, long distance relationship&timezones, reader struggling with loneliness and sense of gloom, reader attending interpol training in another country (in netherlands tho it doesnt have much impact on the plot), queen elle being their relationship therapist for a whole one scene straight <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.8k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @mggslover but i'd write it anyway cause i missed my og beloved cutest couple xx

Click.

The light switch gave a soft snap, and light spilled through your apartment, letting you hang up your coat and bag. Odd—it didn’t feel at all like the weight of either had been lifted from your body.

Click.

Even such a small sound felt loud in the silence of your apartment. Always silent. When you tried to cover it up with TV or music, the place seemed to push those sounds away. To reject them, to refuse to let them seep into the walls and thin out the loneliness that clung to them.

You turned the light back off—you were heading straight to the bedroom anyway, not even stopping by the bathroom. But then something came to mind, something that made you freeze for a second.

Click.

You knew your boyfriend would freak out if he even imagined you crawling into the bed you shared without at least washing your hands after a full day out—at work, in that bacteria trap known as public transport. Okay, maybe freak out was a bit of an exaggeration. It’s not like he’d kick you out of bed or crash on the couch. You knew, though, that he wouldn’t feel comfortable with it. And that knowledge alone was enough to make you slip under the covers only after changing into clean clothes.

Well, your boyfriend wasn’t there.

Still, you made yourself go through that small ritual—one that, in its silly little way, let you pretend things were different.

It had only been a month since you moved to a different country, a whole different continent, for a training program offered by Interpol. A program that was, honestly, a great opportunity to gain new knowledge and skills. One you’d come to…genuinely enjoy. More than that—it gave you more fulfillment than your time with the BAU ever had. Before it started, you hadn’t even realized a job could bring that kind of satisfaction.

You were thriving. But that didn’t mean you felt okay.

Every time you came back to the apartment, the motivation you’d had during the day seemed to vanish. You’d remember you were in a foreign country, that everyone you loved was an ocean away, and when you stripped it all down—you were completely, fucking alone.

So every day, you came back to your four walls, reached for your phone—the one thing that helped you feel a little better, though only for a moment. Once the call ended, everything came rushing back.

You knew things would’ve been different if you’d tried to engage more—make new friends, go out, do something. By isolating yourself like that, you were missing the chance to truly experience the culture, and only making your state of mind worse.

But it was the same as with every other vicious cycle. Hard to break, even when you know it’s leading nowhere. Or somewhere—but nowhere good.

Finally, in your bedroom, you let yourself sink into the mattress for a brief moment—as if testing whether it could still offer the same comfort it once did. Back when you used to wait for this exact moment after long, exhausting days at work: that soft collapse into the sheets, the burying of your face in the pillow, letting your body relax and your eyes close.

It hadn’t felt that way since you left.

Lately, you’d even fallen asleep in a stiff armchair and barely noticed the difference. The only thing that still brought you comfort—the one thing you actually looked forward to—was reaching for your phone.

You did just that. But before starting the call, you turned on the front camera, studying your expression closely. Trying to brighten your eyes a little, lift the corners of your mouth just enough. With a seven-hour time difference, you didn’t get many chances during the day to really talk. So you didn’t want to ruin this one with your gloom. 

When you were sure you’d managed it, you curled up on your side in bed and began the phone call. Spencer picked up almost immediately, used to your special time—just the two of you. His face stretched across the screen, your cheek pressed into the pillow, the whole thing reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

“Hello, Handsome,” you greeted, laughing almost immediately at his reaction.

Though he had gotten used to the pretty boy nickname, handsome still made him blush just a little. You knew it was only a matter of time before he grew accustomed to it, and then you'd have to find something new. But for now, you decided not to worry about that.

Spencer was silent, patiently waiting for you to stop laughing, but there was nothing hurried in his gaze. On the contrary, he seemed to be listening intently to the sound, his head slightly tilted.

"Every day, the same," he sighed.

"That’s because you look handsome every day. I’m just stating a constant, unchanging fact. If I were hosting the news, I’d start with, Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid looks incredible today, as always. Now, let’s move on to today’s events…"

Often, due to exhaustion, nothing you said made sense, but it never seemed to bother him.

"But when I tried to state a fact the other day and told you that you looked beautiful, you scoffed at me," he complained.

"That was after I came out of the shower, silly. I looked like a wet rat. There’s no universe where that could be a fact and not, I don’t know, something you said because you kind of like me," you replied.

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up.

"Kind of like you?"

"Slightly"

"So, according to your logic, I deeply hate everyone else around me?"

You shrugged lightly.

"Can’t read your mind, Spence."

For a moment, he was silent, and to your surprise, a genuinely worried, or at least thoughtful, expression appeared on his face.

"I hate that you think that," he confessed after a while, pressing his lips together for a moment before adding, "I mean, does that mean I’m telling you that you look beautiful just because you're my girlfriend, like it's some sort of obligation? In the universe I live in, I’d think you’re beautiful even if you were a wet rat."

Spencer Reid, the expert at giving compliments. After a moment, even he realized what he had just said and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can…can we pretend I didn’t say that? I just called you beautiful, not mentioning anything about rats."

"Nope. I’m taking that compliment to the grave” 

He sighed softly. You began to feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you almost had to force them open wider. Had you been talking for only ten minutes? You hadn’t even asked about him, realizing that you had spent that precious time, which you didn’t get to share much, talking about whether or not you were beautiful—and now, you felt a bit silly.

"So, how was your day?"

His voice only deepened your sleepiness, but not because what he was saying was boring. It never was. The whole problem was that listening to him with your eyes half-closed allowed you to imagine that you were truly close to each other, faces inches apart, in the same bed, not just on the cold phone screen. He couldn’t see it, nor could he feel it, of course, but your thumb gently traced a path across his forehead, cheek, lips—lips moving as he spoke.

You didn’t even notice when you had switched off. Spencer, however, did.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, pulling you out of your not-so-happy thoughts. “It’s late for you, you must be tired, and I’ve been rambling…” 

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly reassured him, waking up. “I mean, we’ve only been talking for…”

“There’s no specific amount of time we have to talk. If you’re tired…”

“I’m not,” you stubbornly repeated, though it came out a little harsher than intended. If you were upset, it was only at yourself, for not having the energy to carry on a proper conversation with your boyfriend.

"Okay," he replied with a sigh that seemed to give way. "Alright, if that's what you say."

For a moment, silence settled, and you expected him to ask you something, to check on you. Ask about what he'd been talking about, if you had really been listening. But he wasn’t like that. He didn’t need to test your honesty.

You both started talking a little lighter, lazy chatter that, strangely, caused some pressure in your stomach. There were probably so many things he wanted to tell you, but he had held them back so as not to overwhelm you at this hour. If you were together, it would have been different. He could have told you at any time of day, whispered it in your ear while you were drifting to sleep, because you would be lying down at the same time.

Phone conversations have a way of letting you sense when they’re coming to an end. For you two, it always came with a moment of silence and that one simple, repeating assurance.

 "I miss you," he said.

You stared at his face on the screen, feeling your throat close up. You couldn’t speak, not because you didn’t feel the same way. Of course, you did. It was just that feeling that stole your words; you were so tired of telling him how much you missed him.

"I miss you too," you replied after a long moment, softly, barely forcing your lips to move.

You might have felt bad, but you couldn’t imagine not answering him.

Before the conversation came to an end, Spencer looked at you for a moment longer, and you could see a faint, sad shadow in his eyes.

*

JJ laid her cards on the table, immediately raising both hands in a victory gesture.

Defeated, Morgan tossed his cards aside. Spencer, on the other hand, simply shook his head with a sigh, gathering all the cards to shuffle them for the next round. Although, he hadn’t decided yet if he even wanted to play. He’d lose anyway. He was too lost in his thoughts, worries, to focus.

“No offense, gentlemen, but beating you doesn’t give me any satisfaction,” JJ declared, pressing her back against the seat backrest on the jet. “None at all. Oh, at times like this, I really miss her. My only worthy opponent.”

At the sound of your name, Spencer almost let the cards slip from his hands. He had been thinking about you, and when it was spoken aloud, it caused that funny collision between reality and what was going on in his mind. And he had been thinking about you mostly because of your conversation the day before. During which, something had clearly been off, but he had no idea what. You seemed a bit down, but he didn’t know how to ask about it. At some point, he had rambled on too, which might have just seemed tiring to you.

"Elle, maybe you’ll join us?" JJ asked her teammate.

Spencer turned over his shoulder. Greenaway was sitting behind them, alone, with her laptop open, almost blocking her face.

"Hm?" She lifted her head, her brown eyes scanning their faces as she looked around thoughtfully. It took a moment for her to realize what the question was about. "Oh. No, sorry, but I'm busy with another game right now."

To prove her point, she turned her laptop around, showing them the chessboard on the screen.

"You're playing chess online?" Spencer asked, surprised.

He stood up from his seat to sit across from Elle. He hadn’t even known that was an option, but something about it immediately didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t imagine playing chess without sitting across from his opponent, analyzing their expression and the subtle, carefully hidden but still somehow slipping reactions.

"You know, I’d play with you if you asked."

Elle didn’t glance at him, fully focused on her virtual chess game. To his surprise, however, a mysterious smile appeared on her lips.

"Who said I wanted to play with you?" she asked. "But seriously, maybe next time. Right now, I have another opponent. You know her, by the way."

Spencer blinked in confusion, utterly unaware of what she was talking about. He’d never played chess online, so he had no idea who any of her internet opponents could be.

"I thought your girl would be much better. Maybe you could help her improve. Or maybe you’re not doing that on purpose so she doesn’t beat you?"

“You’re playing with…”

Elle nodded before he could finish. His mouth parted for a brief moment, in surprise. Okay, now it made sense. It also made sense why the chess opening on the screen seemed to tickle his memory, feeling strangely familiar. 

For a while, Spencer just watched their game, imagining your lips pursed in concentration as you hesitated over what to do with your queen. But then he shook his head, pushing the vision away—it reminded him too much of how much he missed that sight. Missed your lips in general. Missed you.

A fleeting smile crossed his face when you beat Elle.

“Could I talk to you about something?” he asked once the game was over, lowering his voice slightly so the rest of the team wouldn’t hear.

It felt strange to bring this up even with her. He rarely reached out to anyone for relationship advice—both of you had always operated under the rule that there was no problem you couldn’t solve together, just the two of you. Then again, that rule hadn’t accounted for this many miles apart for this long.

Elle looked at him closely, immediately sensing something was up.

“Sure,” she said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Spencer took a deep breath.

“I’m a little worried about her,” he admitted. “And about our relationship, but mostly about her.”

“Why? Has she been acting strange?”

 “A bit? I mean, we’re still talking, things are generally okay, but she seems kind of down. More withdrawn, and sometimes…sometimes I get the feeling she’s forcing herself to talk to me because she thinks she has to. I don’t know, maybe something happened that she doesn’t want to tell me about. And I know I shouldn’t be asking, you don’t have to say anything if it feels wrong…but has she mentioned anything to you?”

His friend stayed completely still and silent for a moment too long. Reid felt a strange tightness coil in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. The longer the silence dragged on, the more convinced he became that his theory might actually be right. And if that part was true, then so was what he was about to say next.

“We both agreed to this,” he continued quietly. “I mean, to being long distance. Not like we had much of a choice, but…you know what I mean. We could’ve just…ended it.”

Just saying that felt wrong in his mouth, like a sour taste. He didn’t want to imagine a world in which they’d chosen to let go.

“And…I just keep wondering if maybe she regrets it. Maybe this is harder for her than it is for me—because she’s in a completely new place, and maybe she’d rather focus on her life and her work there, instead of forcing herself to keep talking to me…”

“Spencer,” Elle interrupted him gently.

She rarely used his first name, and hearing it now carried a quiet kind of tenderness. Her lips pressed together for a moment as if she were carefully choosing her words. Eventually, she sighed.

“Spencer…first of all, I have to tell you—I don’t think I know anything you don’t. Let’s start there. And second…” she exhaled slowly, “we both know her. So you know how much she tends to keep to herself. Especially when it comes to things that worry or upset her—she doesn’t want anyone else to carry the weight. And usually, you can tell by watching her…but now? You can’t. You only have phone calls. So yeah, I’m guessing a lot is slipping through the cracks. And maybe she doesn’t want to tell you everything, not because she doesn’t trust you, but because—okay, I’m guessing here—you two probably don’t have much time to talk. So when you do, she’d rather spend it enjoying that moment with you, instead of unloading all the heavy stuff. You get that, right?”

Spencer didn’t nod, didn’t say anything at first—but he understood. He understood perfectly; everything Elle had just described fit her so well it almost hurt. And yet, it still didn’t answer the one question that had been gnawing at him the most.

“But what should I do?”

“Well, I doubt this’ll shock you, but…talk to her,” she replied with a small, quiet snort. “Like, really talk to her. Let her know it’s okay to talk about the hard stuff too. But Reid…I can’t speak for her, obviously, but I really don’t think she wants to end things.”

He studied her face, trying to see if she truly meant it—or if she was only saying what she thought he needed to hear, just to keep him from walking around miserable all day while they were supposed to be focused on the case.

“You really think so?” he asked softly, a note of hope creeping into his voice.

“What I think,” she said, “is that you two are actually made for each other. And you can handle a lot more than just some time apart. Seriously, Reid. Just…make sure you talk it through. For real.”

He was quiet for a moment, a small, grateful smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you, Elle.”

“Don’t mention it. And if that’s all, then stop bothering me. It’s time for a rematch with your girlfriend…”

*

“You know, I didn’t suggest it to you earlier,” you began, pausing as you settled more comfortably on the couch with your laptop on your knees. This time, you could only see your boyfriend’s face in a tiny window in the corner of the screen—the rest was taken up by the chessboard. “Because I didn’t think you’d like it. Considering the fact that you’re… well, you’re…oh, no offense, but you’re kind of a huge technophobe sometimes.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, thinking over your words. Then, with a small, defeated nod, he conceded.

“You’re not wrong. But I’m starting to come around. To technology, I mean,” he clarified with a soft sigh. “For you.”

“Ah, that terrible girlfriend of yours, forcing you to adapt to the modern world,” you muttered, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

“Ah, that terrible yet absolutely amazing girlfriend of mine who always has a sarcastic comment ready and just can’t resist teasing me,” he shot back in the same tone, matching your expression perfectly—except for the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You mirrored it when you noticed the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. “Before we start the game…can we talk for a bit? Just…talk?”

You frowned slightly at the clear note of request in his voice. You both had the day off, finally a chance to spend more time together, to really enjoy each other's company—and had naturally decided on a game (or a few) of chess. You’d been feeling unusually good that day, and it seemed like he had too. You were expecting a cozy afternoon, just the two of you, which is why his gentle question made a small knot of worry form in your chest.

“Sure,” you said, dragging the word out just a little. “Nothing’s wrong…right?”

"I don't know," Spencer admitted, to your surprise. "Is it?"

You shook your head slightly, brows furrowed, not quite understanding him. He suddenly sighed, adjusting his glasses on his nose in a nervous gesture.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. What I really meant to say…" he hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment. "You know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime you need to."

You blinked at that, not quite an admission, but more of a reminder.

"Yeah, I know that," you admitted, swallowing. "I’ve never...never felt any differently. Not with you."

To your surprise, again, he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

"I have a different feeling," he confessed after a moment of silence. You completely forgot you were supposed to be playing chess, your eyes fixed entirely on his face on the screen. "Something’s going on, and you don’t want to tell me because you don’t like when people worry about you. But what worries me more is that I don’t know what’s troubling you. I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s how it feels."

You suppressed a sigh, feeling, in a way, cornered.

"Nothing’s happening, Spencer. I just feel so lonely, that’s all. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to falling asleep alone, but it’s not something you can really fix right now, so I didn’t see the point in telling you."

You felt his gaze resting on you, and you lowered your eyes to the keyboard of your laptop, struggling to respond.

"You see?" you began, forcing yourself to shrug indifferently. "It’s really nothing serious. I’m probably overreacting. It’s only been a month, and I’ll get used to it soon. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you about this..."

"But I’m glad you did," he interrupted. You finally allowed yourself to look up at his face, immediately meeting the warmth in his eyes. You involuntarily felt a bit teary, causing you to blink more often. "It’s not overreacting. You have every right to feel lonely, lost, being there on your own. I just wish you would talk to me about these things. Now that I know, I can...I don’t know...try to reach out to you more often." He trailed off, as if both of you had thought of the same thing. No number of phone calls could replace the real contact of being with someone, standing face to face, and the touch. "I’m sorry I’m not there."

Something tightened in your chest, though a soft laugh escaped your lips.

"Spencer, you can't apologize for something like this."

He nodded slightly.

"I know. But...I think I have an idea on what to do to make you feel at least a little better. Well, at least in this one regard."

That night, you lay down in bed with your phone next to you, listening to his gentle voice. It only seemed like a conversation for a brief moment, as sleepiness soon overtook you and you stopped responding. However, the phone call remained uninterrupted, and his words stayed with you as you drifted off to sleep. Because, as you had realized once, with your eyes closed, you were capable of believing in a lot of things.

[luvergirl-535]

something like love

part - 7

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 10.7k

c/w - language, drinking/smoking, smut

a/n - took me five days but here’s your long chapter!! i really hope this lives up to your expectations! as always lmk how u feel and live react plsss!!! (also, this is completely unedited and i wrote parts while high. as usual. i will come back to edit later 🙂‍↕️)

There are a lot of things you can learn about somebody in ten years. There are the basics, of course: Their favorite color, and whether it changes every few weeks. Their middle name, and whether they like it. Their childhood stuffed animal, and whether they keep it hidden in a closet.

Then, as you go from knowing each other for one month to one year, and one year to five, you learn other things. You learn about their relationship with intimacy. You learn about why they occasionally stare into space for minutes on end, mind somewhere far away even though they make such an effort to stay close to you. You learn how to ask the right questions in order to crack their shell just enough that they open up to you without breaking.

Azzi knows Paige like she’s a fact—solid, unchallengeable, honest.

But this morning, she doesn’t understand a single thing about her. And that’s not for lack of trying.

After their perfect day turned weird yesterday, Azzi had woken up on high alert. She’s so used to Paige being an open book that it makes her endlessly uneasy when she does strange, mysterious things like creating an ocean between them while they’re sleeping in the same bed.

Naturally, being hopelessly in love with Paige has gotten Azzi used to watching her. Analyzing her. Prodding her and testing her reactions.

So when they first woke up, she watched: Paige, naturally, was still sleeping. She had subconsciously moved toward Azzi in her sleep, but not by much. Her lips were pink and slightly parted, cheeks flushed with sleep, back rising and falling softly. The bedroom window was open in an attempt to fight off the summer heat, and birds were singing outside, waking with the sun—which rose in gentle orange and pink hues, shining through the sheer curtains, painting Paige’s skin and hair pastel. In that moment, Azzi really couldn’t blame herself for falling in love with her.

After Paige woke up, while they methodically went about their morning routines, she analyzed: the first thing she noticed was the silence; unusual, unsettling, and oh-so loud. Paige was never a morning person but she was a chatterbox through and through—she’d always wake up talking Azzi’s ear off about nonsense, and she’d do it drowsily, but she’d do it nonetheless.

The second thing she noticed was the way Paige refused to look her in the eye. Not even once, not even for a second. There was no sleepy smile when she woke up to find Azzi next to her, no silly faces while the two of them got dressed, no lidded, sleepy eye contact through the mirror while they brushed their teeth side-by-side.

And the third thing: Paige wouldn’t touch her. Not to brush against the small of her back while she moved past her into the bathroom. Not to pull her hair back for her as she did her makeup. Not even to fix her blouse when she mistakenly buttoned it wrong.

Now, the two of them are in the kitchen, alone—Paige’s siblings are still sleeping and her parents are both back at work, which is a blessing, honestly.

It’s time for Azzi to prod.

“Paige,” she says casually, the first thing they’ve said to each other all morning, “can you make me some coffee?”

Paige looks up from where she’d been on her phone, expression almost surprised at having been addressed. She looks as if she’s about to point to herself and say, “Who, me?”

Instead, she glances suspiciously between the coffee machine and where Azzi leans against the counter not four feet away from it. Azzi almost dares her to challenge her, to say something snarky like ‘Why don’t you get your own damn coffee?’

Paige may be acting weird, but Paige is Paige. And things may be changing in ways neither of them wants it to change but she would still do anything for Azzi. So, without a word, she gets up from her barstool and heads to the Keurig, sauntering all cool and level-headed like she’s not acting odd as hell right now.

It’s a little disappointing that Paige still hasn’t spoke, but not surprising. Sometimes she needs some extra help.

“So…” Azzi trails, waiting for Paige’s eyebrow raise and ‘So, what?’ back. It doesn’t come. Paige stares intensely at the coffee machine.

“How’d you sleep?” Azzi finally asks.

Paige starts rifling through the cabinets for a mug while the coffee starts up. Azzi can barely hear it when she says, “Alright,” but it still counts because it’s something. Two whole syllables.

“Any dreams?”

Is she imagining it? Or does Paige stiffen up at that?

No, she’s definitely not imagining it. Because when Paige turns to finally look at her—for the first time this morning, mind you—her eyes are wide and—is that a flush creeping over her cheeks? “Why you askin’ about my dreams? Did I sleep talk or sum’?”

Puzzled, Azzi blinks at her best friend, wondering why idle small talk would get such a reaction out of her. “Um, no? Just asking.”

Paige narrows her eyes at her, but when Azzi just stares back, perplexed, she relaxes and turns away. “Oh. Aight.”

“Well, I had a dream,” Azzi says. “We were characters in South Park.”

On any normal day, this would’ve had Paige interested and on the edge of her seat like that. But today, Paige just hums, kneeling down to pull sugar and vanilla syrup from a drawer.

“And you sounded like Eric and I sounded like Stan.”

Paige straightens up, heading to the fridge. “They sound the same to me.”

Azzi glares holes into the back of her best friend’s head. “And we were playing basketball. But we were all short and stuff, so the ball was, like, as big as we were. I still got a ton of shots on you, obviously.”

Paige turns around with cream in her hand, Azzi flashes a dazzling smile, dimple and all. Paige barely even glances her way.

She’s not even going to argue with that? She’s not going to laugh at the sheer stupidity of that silly dream? She’s not going to fondly roll her eyes at Azzi’s grin?

Azzi’s starting to think something more sinister is going on here. Maybe alien abduction.

“P?” she asks, almost meekly, a last-ditch effort.

Paige merely hums, beginning to make Azzi’s coffee exactly the way she likes it, and that warms her a little bit.

“Hey,” she says, stepping closer, leaning against the counter beside Paige. “You good?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies. But her voice is…shaky. Not quite like herself.

Beginning to get a little concerned now—not just for the entire trajectory of their relationship but for her—Azzi lays a hand on her shoulder, gently so as not to spook her, almost like she’s a timid dog. “You sure?”

Azzi studies Paige’s face carefully. She’s gone pale, except for the blush on her cheeks, which is now brilliantly (and adorably) pink.

Paige nods, but Azzi doesn’t buy that one bit, and now she’s wondering whether this is really about yesterday like she’d originally thought. Maybe this whole time she’s been so self-centered to think it was about her. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with her at all.

The thought is so relieving it nearly makes her knees buckle.

Almost gleefully, Azzi reaches up to touch Paige’s forehead, and then her cheeks. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”

“Azzi, I’m fine,” Paige insists, and she sounds so defensive that it has the opposite effect.

Sure of herself now, Azzi wraps her hands around the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her down so her best friend’s forehead is to her cheek—something Katie always did to her and her brothers when they were little. “I dunno, P. You feel kinda warm to me.”

“Shit,” Paige hisses, suddenly yanking herself from Azzi’s grasp, staring down at her hands. Azzi follows her gaze to find Paige has spilled a good amount of cream over the counter.

“Hey, it’s okay—“ Azzi begins, reaching for the roll of paper towels, but Paige holds up a hand to stop her.

“Azzi. For real. Just…listen, I need a sec, okay?” she’s still all wobbly, and her hands are shaking as she brings them up to rub at her jaw, eyes closed.

Surprised, Azzi rears back a few steps, putting distance between them. “P, what…?

“I’m fine,” Paige says, but it sounds like she’s on the verge of tears as she cups her own face with her palms and it goes against every instinct Azzi has but she begins to back away. Slowly, like she’s waiting for Paige to change her mind, for her to reach for Azzi and fall into her arms and tell her what the fuck is going on right now.

She doesn’t. And Azzi can only mutter, “I’ll be in the room,” before she’s out the kitchen, heading up the stairs and clutching at her stomach like she can somehow stop the anxiety boiling deep inside.

————————————————

An hour later, Paige is walking through the bedroom door with a jovial smile on her face.

Azzi startles when her best friend walks into the room, preparing to deal with this mood that seems to have overtaken her, and her jaw very nearly drops when she sees the expression on Paige’s face.

“Hey,” Paige says when she spots Azzi (who has been curled on the bed for the past hour, trying to stave off these new existential crises). “Watcha up to?”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even sit up. She just stares at this scarily bipolar form which has somehow taken the shape of her best friend.

“It’s too hot to be out today,” Paige goes on without waiting for an answer. She kneels down to rifle around in her suitcase. “So I was thinking the movies? Just me and you?”

And then she starts humming. Like, actually humming to herself.

Azzi has absolutely no idea how to approach this situation. She’s almost afraid to even move, as if Paige were a motion-activated bomb—because that’s kind of what it feels like right now.

“Yo,” Paige says at Azzi’s continued silence, standing up with a pair of shoes in hand. “You wanna go or not?”

Azzi wishes she could bask in it—the sudden normalcy, the way Paige is talking to her and looking her in the eye and no longer seeming on the brink of passing out. But it’s such a stark difference from this morning that all Azzi can do is wonder what happened in the past hour to cause such a severe change.

“Azzi,” Paige urges, and for some reason that’s what gets Azzi moving.

She sits up straight, staring Paige dead in the eye when she asks, “What is up with you?”

Paige doesn’t get defensive, and that tells her everything she needs to know. “Nothin’. Just wanna go watch a movie.”

Azzi doesn’t return her friend’s charming smile. “Don’t play, Paige.”

Paige has the audacity to look confused. “Huh?”

If she’s going to play dumb, that leaves Azzi no choice but to be direct. “I’m just wondering why you were acting bitchy to me all morning and now you’re walking in here, acting like nothing happened?”

“Oh, that,” Paige replies, but there’s nothing convincing about her clueless act. It’s obvious in the way she averts her eyes, crosses her arms. “I just didn’t feel good, like you said. But I took some medicine, so we’re up.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replies.

“Yeah.”

“So, you didn’t feel good. That’s it.”

“Yep,” Paige replies cheerfully, kneeling down to start putting her shoes on.

“And that’s why you couldn’t touch me, or talk to me. Or even, like, look at me.”

Paige stares down at her feet, fiddling with the laces, tying them slowly to put off the inevitable moment she’ll have to stand back up again. “I dunno. Didn’t notice I was doing that.”

“Paige,” Azzi says, and Paige must sense that she’s really serious now because she looks up, watching her swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “Please, just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Paige replies simply, standing with one shoe untied to sit by Azzi on the bed.

Her detachment, her false answers and carelessness, are so frustrating it almost makes Azzi want to cry. “If you’re mad at me about—what I said yesterday, at the lake, then just tell me. I don’t want things to be weird between us just because we’re not talking—“

“Whoa, hey, slow down,” Paige says, and the hand she places on Azzi’s knee is so comforting she really could cry at this point. “I’m not mad at you. Did you think that this whole time?”

“Obviously.” Azzi widens her eyes at her emphatically. “What else was I supposed to think, when you were acting all weird towards me?”

Paige frowns at that, looking genuinely troubled at the notion of Azzi’s internal conflict. “I’m not mad at you, ma, for real. I just—“ she sighs, taking her hand off Azzi’s knee to run over her face. “I couldn’t really sleep last night, my mind was going like a hundred miles per minute for some reason.”

“About what?” Azzi asks.

There’s that same reaction from earlier—the stiffness and the blush. Like she’s embarrassed, or maybe even guilty?

Seriously, what is that about?

“Oh, nothing,” Paige replies airily, waving her off despite her mildly visceral reaction to the question. “Just a buncha stuff. And then, well…” she trails off, glancing at Azzi to see if she’ll be able to get away with it. She’s met with a stern glare that clearly says don’t you dare close up on me again, and sighs before continuing. “I’ll be real, I did have some dreams last night, once I finally fell asleep. And they were—they kept waking me up, but every time I fell back asleep they’d just come back again.”

“Like, scary dreams?” Azzi asks, brows furrowed. Paige has occasionally had nightmares while they were together, but they always have her jerking around or talking in her sleep so much that it wakes Azzi, who will wake her best friend and speak softly to her of good, happy things in order to lull her back to sleep. It’s never affected Paige so badly that she was a completely different person when she woke up.

Azzi watches Paige’s throat bob as she swallows thickly before saying, “Something like that.”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know how to—doesn’t know where she stands right now, in this weird, unfamiliar territory they’ve stepped into.

Paige speaks for her, never good with lingering silences. “Hey, uh, a few of my cousins up here—they’re around our age, and they’re gonna be throwing this big party tomorrow. They invited us to go.”

Azzi hesitates. “They invited both of us?”

“They wanna meet you. Since you’re my…”

“Girlfriend,” Azzi finishes.

Paige nods slowly. “Right.”

“And you really wanna go? With me?” Azzi asks.

Paige scoots a little closer, lays her hand palm-up on Azzi’s leg. When Azzi takes it, instinctually, it’s like finding her footing again. “Don’t wanna go anywhere without you.”

One of these days, Azzi will learn her lesson. One of these days, she’ll straighten her spine and figure out how to tell Paige no, how to say what she really wants to say.

Today, though, is just like any other. That is to say, Azzi falls for pretty blue eyes and prettier words, and says what she knows Paige wants to hear: “Okay. Why not?”

Paige grins at her, and Azzi almost forgets this whole strange morning, their little argument yesterday, the kiss that preceded it.

Key word: Almost.

Because there’s this sinking feeling in her stomach that won’t quite let her forget.

————————————————

Getting ready for this party is turning out to be absolute hell.

“Azzi, just get ready at the hotel.”

“No, Paige.”

Paige sighs dramatically. While Azzi has spent the past thirty minutes stressing, carefully picking an outfit that will be cute, reasonable for the weather, and won’t wrinkle during the two-hour car ride to the next town over, Paige has been sitting peacefully on the bed, making unhelpful comments and showing Azzi TikToks every two minutes.

“At least do your makeup there. It’ll sweat off during the car ride.”

“I have a good setting spray.”

“Azziii, for real, I wanna get on the road,” Paige says, practically whining at this point.

Sighing, Azzi shakes her head, knowing she’s going to lose this argument no matter what. “Okay, fine. But still—my outfit.”

Paige, apparently deciding to be helpful, rolls off the bed and sits beside Azzi by her suitcase. “You got so many outfits to choose from.”

“None of them are working.”

“Just wear basketball shorts like me.”

Unfortunately, Azzi isn’t sure she’s masc enough to get away with basketball shorts, a sports bra, and an oversized button-up quite like Paige can. But Paige wouldn’t understand that.

“What about these jeans?” Azzi asks instead of answering Paige’s suggestion.

“Nah,” Paige says, “it’s s’posed to be hot tonight. Wear shorts.”

“Okay…” digging around, Azzi finds a little pair of shorts she isn’t really sure why she brought—she could never wear them around Paige’s family. With all the rips in the front, and the way it hugs her ass, it’s not exactly family-friendly. But for a party…

Spotting the way Azzi’s hand is lingering over the shorts, Paige grabs them up and holds them in front of her. She appraises them for a moment before putting them in Azzi’s lap. “These.”

“You think?” Azzi hesitates.

“Yup,” Paige replies simply. “Think they’re cute. And you won’t overheat.”

With some more help from Paige, Azzi finally ends up in an outfit that the two of them have deemed suitable for the occasion.

(“Are you sure it’s not too…slutty?” Azzi had asked, looking at herself in the mirror—Paige came up behind her and brushed her hands over her waist and said, “Nah, looks perfect on you,” and Azzi’s decision was made.)

Now, an hour later, only halfway through their mini road trip, Azzi highly regrets the tiny shorts and tinier top.

From the driver’s seat, Paige side-eyes her and smirks when she sees her wriggling around for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. “You all good?”

“These are up my butt,” Azzi complains, pulling at the hem of her shorts.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Paige!” Azzi’s top begins to slip and she yanks it up, frustrated. “This is uncomfortable.”

“I told you to get ready at the hotel.”

Azzi should’ve been prepared for the I told you so, but it still makes her mad and she crosses her arms, staring out the window with what she’s sure is a mean pout.

Paige reaches over to tug on one of Azzi’s braids. “You sulking over there?”

“No,” Azzi replies, even though she very much is.

There’s a moment of silence, and Azzi is beginning to think Paige is done with the conversation before she says, “Why don’t you just take ‘em off?”

Azzi can’t help but laugh a little at that. “You wish.”

“I’m serious,” Paige replies, and with a quick glance at her side-profile Azzi realizes she’s telling the truth.

“You really want me to strip in your car?” Azzi teases, and before, this is something Paige would’ve laughed at before playfully flirting back. But now, Paige’s eyes widen and dart over to her, and Azzi is maybe not completely teasing.

“Chill,” Paige replies simply, voice betraying nothing even though the blush on her cheeks says otherwise. “Just don’t wanna hear you complaining for the rest of the drive.”

Of course, Azzi is not going to take off her shorts. Things between her and Paige are already weird and, not to mention, she’s wearing a thong. It would be crazy. It would be inappropriate.

But these shorts are really tight. And they still have an hour to go. And maybe Paige would give her The Look, the one Azzi hates and doesn’t understand but is also coming to associate with those charged moments between them, the moments where things shift and change and it seems as if any minute one of them is going to surge forward and—

Slowly, Azzi reaches across herself, and unbuckles her seatbelt.

Paige’s breath hitches. “What’re you doing?”

Azzi hums, and her fingers move to her own stomach, letting them trail down playfully to the button of her jeans, watching Paige’s eyes go from her to the road and back. “Just taking your advice.”

“Oh,” Paige says.

Azzi pulls the zipper down.

The two of them have seen each other in various states of undress countless times before—last year, Paige got so drunk that Azzi even had to help her out of her clothes completely and into the shower. But Paige was laughing and rambling and tripping everywhere and Azzi’s sole focus was on making sure she didn’t slip and crack her head on the shower tiles.

Azzi’s never given herself the opportunity to look the way she really wants to. And she’s been operating under the fact that she would never be looked at the way she wants to be, either.

But now, as she lifts her hips off the seat and wriggles out of these tight little shorts, Paige is looking. She’s looking so hard they might crash.

The shorts slide down her leg, dangle around one of her ankles. Azzi lifts her foot and delicately plucks it off. Tosses it into the backseat.

Paige’s hand twitches on the center console. Fingers splaying wide open like they need something to do.

Azzi has spent practically her whole life giving Paige whatever she wants, because that’s what you do when you’re in love with somebody, isn’t it? And so there’s really no thought to it when she takes Paige’s hand. Nothing tentative in the way she lifts their joint hands, pulls them into her lap. No hesitation when she presses Paige’s palm into her bare thigh.

Paige is staring firmly ahead now. The hand still on the wheel is fisted tight, knuckles bloodless. And when she mutters Azzi’s name, it’s quiet but unmistakable.

For the first time, knowing that Paige can see her in her peripheral vision, Azzi lets herself look. Lets herself study the flutter of her lashes, the slope of her nose, the pink of her lips. Her sharp jawline, her furrowed brows, her neck and collarbones. And then her eyes travel back up to Paige’s, admiring the blue shamelessly as she whispers, “You can touch me, Paige.”

Paige’s throat bobs. Her fingers twitch. And then, slowly but surely, they dance over Azzi’s skin. Azzi gasps softly when they brush the inside of her thigh, and that seems to encourage Paige because her hand travels higher, up to wear her shorts would’ve been covering, tips of her fingers getting so fucking close to where Azzi has wanted her for so long.

And then she stops. Straightens her shoulders and focuses more sternly on the road, but her hand stays firmly put before it squeezes just a little bit.

Azzi’s eyes flutter shut.

They may or may not spend the rest of the car ride just like that.

————————————————

Even before they step inside, Azzi can already tell how bumping this party is. Loud music blasts from behind the front door, and flashing LED lights shine through the curtains on the windows. For the first time, Azzi gets a little nervous—with parties, Paige usually finds some random people to branch off with while Azzi hangs out with whatever team members came with them. Now, with just the two of them, Azzi worries about being left in a corner with a red solo cup and a headache. The thought makes her turn to Paige.

Paige, mid-reach for the doorknob, pauses when she clocks Azzi’s anxious expression. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just—“ Azzi sighs, then clutches onto Paige’s arm, glancing nervously toward the front door and the party that lurks within. “Don’t leave me tonight, okay?”

Paige smiles softly, and Azzi thinks briefly that friends don’t look at each other this way. “I won’t, ma. Promise.”

And Azzi believes her.

When they finally get inside, Azzj counts on them being able to slip in unnoticed, considering how many people must be crammed into this house. But, to her surprise, they’ve barely even shut the door behind them before the foyer—and the open living room beyond—absolutely erupts. People were laughing and talking and singing before, but now there’s straight-up screaming as young adults crowd around the two of them, whooping and hollering and saying things like “Lil Paigey in da house!”

Paige laughs, waving people off as she reunites with old friends, and the crowd seems to be trying to separate them but Paige wraps her arms firmly around Azzi’s waist and doesn’t let go.

After a minute, the crowd calms down, letting Paige’s cousins come up and give her hugs, the three girls squealing (Azzi doesn’t think she’s ever heard Paige squeal before) as they gush about how much they missed each other and how good they look and Azzi almost misses it when one of them says, “Oh my god, hi! Cousin-in-law!” before she’s the one being attacked with hugs.

“I’m so happy we finally get to meet you!” One of them—Avery, Azzi thinks—says quite loudly in her ear.

The other one—Lauren—squeezes her so hard she almost lifts her off the ground. “You’re so pretty! Look at her, holy shit, you’re so pretty!”

After the initial shock, Azzi can’t help but laugh, the excitement from these two girls nothing if not contagious.

After a few seconds, Paige pulls them off her, gathering her right back into her side once she’s free. “Chill on her, we just got here!”

Standing beside Paige, and in front of these two girls, all three of which have matching smiles, blue eyes, and blonde hair, it’s sort of like seeing triple.

“Sorry, we’re just—we’ve been so excited to meet you,” Avery says, cheeks flushed as she grins warmly at her.

Lauren nods in agreement. “P has been gatekeeping you, for real!”

Azzi grins quizzically up at Paige, who shakes her head, thumb rubbing over Azzi’s waist. “Nah, y’all have her social media. I just didn’t wanna share my pictures of her.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, slapping Paige’s stomach with the back of her hand before turning to her cousins. “It’s really good to meet y’all, too.”

The two girls beam at her before reaching for her, each of them taking a hand and tugging.

Paige holds fast to her waist. “Hey, where y’all tryna take her?”

“Relax, we need to give her a grand tour!” Avery says. Azzi wouldn’t mind leaving Paige’s side just as long as she’s with these two girls, but Paige seems to have other opinions about it, if the way she’s relentlessly holding onto her says anything.

“I can come with you,” Paige protests.

“No, P, how are we gonna tell her your embarrassing stories if you’re around?” Lauren jokes, dramatically rolling her eyes.

Paige holds on even tighter at this, and Azzi sort of feels like the rope in a game of tug o’ war. “No way!”

“Paigeee,” Avery whines.

“Yo, for real, gimme my girlfriend back.”

Azzi nudges Paige with her elbow. “I’m good, P.”

Paige looks down at her incredulously. “What happened to, ‘Paige, don’t leave me, I’m sooo nervous’?” Paige asks, all whiny and flirty as she mocks her.

Azzi frowns. “That’s not how I sound!”

Finally, in her moment of distraction, Avery and Lauren manage to wrench Azzi out of Paige’s iron grip. “We’ll take good care of her, Paigey,” Avery assures, slinging her arm around Azzi’s shoulder. “Don’t even worry.”

Paige glares at the two of them, arm outstretched like she’s hoping Azzi will fall right into her, and she can’t lie, she’s more than tempted to.

But she also wants to hear those embarrassing stories her cousins were talking about.

“Go make her a drink or something,” Lauren calls over her shoulder as they whisk her away. “We’ll bring her back soon!”

Azzi sends a sheepish smile and wave her way, giggling when Paige flips her off. Maybe this night will be fun, after all.

————————————————

The tour only lasts around fifteen minutes, but by the time they’re finished, Azzi is missing Paige desperately. She thinks they may be getting a little too attached, but then, haven’t they always been?

When she finally spots Paige, man-spreading on a couch holding two cups, the relief only lasts for a second because then she notices that she is sitting next to a very pretty girl. A very pretty girl with dark skin and dark hair and a gold, glinting nose ring and a laugh that tinkles all the way across the room, even over the raucous noise.

“Oh, boy, look who found Paige,” Lauren grumbles beside Azzi.

Azzi looks over at her. “Who is that?”

“That’s Amariah,” Avery replies. “She grew up in Paige’s neighborhood.”

Amariah. The name rings a bell somewhere far back in Azzi’s memory.

“She’s had a huge crush on Paige for, like, ever,” Lauren goes on.

“And then, when Paige came up during Spring break in junior year, there was this party and they hooked up,” Avery says, and that’s when it clicks.

Amariah, of course. Azzi remembers the call she’d gotten that night, the way Paige’s cheeks were bright red as she told Azzi the whole story of how she’d slept with some random girl at a party. More than anything, Azzi remembers the jealousy, hot and heavy, that had burned in her stomach, and she remembers the way she’d ended the call early only to get no sleep that night—thinking of Paige with another girl.

“Is that so,” Azzi replies.

“Uh-huh,” Avery says. “I’d go get my girl if I were you.”

That’s exactly what she does.

Smiling gratefully at the two girls, Azzi begins making her way through the crowd, marching to the other end of the living room. Paige doesn’t even notice her walking their way, apparently too engrossed in whatever amazing thing Amariah has to talk about. It’s only when she’s a couple feet away that Paige looks up and sees her, and the way she absolutely beams almost makes up for everything. Almost.

“Hey, Az,” Paige says when she gets close enough to hear. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Azzi replies, unable to keep from smiling back at her best friend. “That my drink?”

“Uh-huh. Been waiting for you.” Paige hands Azzi’s drink to her, then pats her lap, and it takes Azzi a moment to realize that Paige wants her to sit there. Her body starts moving before her mind can catch up, sitting herself sideways on Paige’s lap, skin heating up when Paige’s arm finds its place around her waist. “My cousins bother you?”

Azzi shakes her head, wrapping an arm around Paige’s neck and looking down at her. Their faces are close, noses practically touching, and she can see every detail of Paige’s features, the makeup gracing her eyes and lips and cheeks. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her, and Paige looks like she might be leaning in…

A cough. Loud and intrusive, and it’s not even really a cough—it’s an “Ahem.”

Paige, apparently remembering herself, tears her eyes away from Azzi’s to look over at Amariah. “Oh, my bad, I forgot y’all have never met.”

“We haven’t,” Amariah says, not so much smiling as she is baring her teeth. “Who’s this, Paigey?”

“I’m Azzi,” she says before Paige can introduce her.

“You play at UConn, too, right?” Amariah asks, and Paige and Azzi both nod. “Didn’t know you were comin’ up with P this summer.”

It’s likely been at least a year since Paige saw this girl, and yet she’s calling her Paigey and P like they’re best friends. It makes her tug on Paige’s neck, pulling her head closer almost protectively.

“Couldn’t leave her,” Paige says, and this time, when Azzi looks down at her, Paige does kiss her. Just a peck on the lips, but it makes Azzi take two large swigs from what tastes like the straight vodka in her cup. “Right, baby?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums around the alcohol in her mouth.

“Cool,” Amariah says in a tone that implies she deems nothing about this cool. And even with Azzi so obviously laying her claim, and Paige so obviously all dopey for her, she still has the audacity to scoot a little closer, brushing her hand flirtatiously against Paige’s shoulder. “So, where were we? You were about to tell me that story, from school?”

“Oh, uh,” Paige gives Azzi one last long look before turning back to Amariah, “yeah. Yeah, sorry, lemme try to remember…”

She knows it’s silly, but Azzi is furious. At Amariah, for thinking she has even the slightest chance with Paige, and at Paige, for talking to this girl when she has Azzi literally in her lap.

Azzi finishes off the vodka in her cup, letting it burn her throat and warm her belly. And then, instead of asking Paige to set it on the side table for her, she shifts, swinging her leg over Paige’s and sitting up on her knees so that she’s straddling her, and she barely catches Paige’s shocked expression before she’s leaning over and setting her cup down.

“You finished with that, babe?” she asks Paige, and Paige nods wordlessly, handing Azzi her empty cup. When Azzi leans over again, she knows her tits are fully in Paige’s face.

With both their hands free, Azzi settles back down, sitting fully on Paige, arms around her shoulders. Paige smiles a little wide-eyed up at her, hands resting low on her hips. But then she turns right back to Amariah and continues her story.

What the hell?

Azzi watches Paige’s side profile as she speaks, looking at her just like she looked at her in the car earlier—and the thought of the car, the heat between Azzi’s legs and Paige’s fingers so close to her, possesses her to lean forward and press her lips to Paige’s cheek.

Paige doesn’t respond, doesn’t even falter in her story-telling, but her thumbs start rubbing circles on Azzi’s hips.

So, Azzi kisses her again. And then again higher on her cheekbone, then to the spot beside her ear, and now she’s sort of just trailing slow, sensual kisses across Paige’s jawline, completely unsure how she got here but not about to stop anytime soon.

Paige’s hands slide to the small of her back, clasping behind her like she’s holding her in place. Azzi moves Paige’s hair—which is down, and Azzi loves when Paige wears her hair down—out of the way before placing a tentative, soft kiss on her neck.

Finally, Paige falters. Just a little, probably not even noticeable to Amariah—who is glaring daggers into the side of Azzi’s head, where she’s buried in Paige’s neck.

Gaining confidence from the way Paige’s hands begin rubbing her back, Azzi trails a hot path down the column of her throat and back up, practically licking her way up to Paige’s earlobe before she sucks on it, letting out the quietest, breathiest moan into Paige’s ear.

Paige gasps, but she doesn’t stop telling her stupid fucking story.

Her hands, however, find their way to Azzi’s ass.

Pleased with herself, Azzi takes Paige’s button-up and pushes it off her left shoulder, giving her so much access. She’s on a roll now, and Paige’s hands on her ass feel so good, voice lulling so nicely in her ears even though it’s another girl she’s talking to.

It’s practically feverish, the way she latches onto Paige’s shoulder. Scrapes her teeth against it, bites it, and then sucks. Hard.

Paige stiffens, squeezes her ass.

Azzi doesn’t pull away for what must be an entire minute. And when she does, she opens her eyes, studies the bright-red mark like she’s an artist and this is the best piece of her life. She knows that’ll be purple by tomorrow, and she’s too tipsy to care.

She goes back in and soothes her tongue over the spot, tasting the salt and perfume on Paige’s skin—god, how long has she wanted to taste Paige, just like this? Since she was fourteen? And now she’s finally doing it, and maybe she should suck another hickey into her neck, just for good measure, just to show this bitch Amariah who Paige really belongs to—

“Az,” Paige says into her ear.

Azzi shoots up, and her voice is raspy when she says, “Yeah?”

It’s then that she takes note of how flushed Paige is, how her chest is heaving with each breath she takes. She looks so good like this. Azzi can’t help but lean forward, nuzzling their noses together.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, squeezing her ass which does horrible things to her mind, “why don’t you get us another drink, mama?”

Azzi pouts at her. She does not want to leave this lap.

“I know,” Paige says even though she didn’t even say anything. “I just…” she leans forward until her mouth is beside Azzi’s ear, “can’t hold it together like this. I need a sec, okay?”

And that knowledge—that she has an affect on Paige—turns her mood right around. “Okay, okay.” Reluctantly, she slides off Paige’s lap, straightening out her shorts. “I’ll be right back.” And, somewhat smugly, she looks at Amariah, who is practically fuming at this point. “You want anything?”

“Nah,” Amariah says through gritted teeth. “I’m all good.”

“‘Kay,” Azzi says happily.

She’s not sure, but she swears she hears Paige say, “Thanks, baby,” on her way out.

Fire spreads low in her belly.

————————————————

Later, they find themselves on the floor, all over each other while a couple other girls sit with them. They’re using the drinks they’ve had as an excuse to be practically in each other’s laps, flirting and giggling like nobody’s business—even if they’re kind of making it everybody else’s business with how many people have clocked them tonight.

“Can y’all stop mating for a couple seconds?” Avery asks good-naturedly, elbowing Azzi.

Reluctantly, the two of them pull away from each other, but Paige’s arm stays slung around Azzi’s hips.

“Okay, y’all know what I wanna do?” says one of the girls. There’s only a handful of them, all circled up and pressed together on the living room floor while people party around them. “I wanna play truth or drink.”

“Fun!” Lauren says. “We should do it.”

“Okay, Paige.” This is another girl—Paige introduced them earlier but Azzi doesn’t remember her name. “What’s your body count?”

Paige glances over at Azzi, then uses her free hand to take a drink from the bottle of Malibu they’ve been sharing.

“You keeping secrets from me?” Azzi teases, not nearly as bothered by this as she would be if she were sober.

Paige purses her lips, moving her head from side to side. “There mighta been a few girls I never told you about.”

Azzi gasps, even though she can’t really bring herself to care about other girls—not when Paige is all over her like this. “You gotta tell me later!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige replies, cheeky little smile and all. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her.

“Love to see Paige isn’t in her hoe era anymore.” The last girl—Azzi actually remembers this one’s name, it’s Riley—laughs.

“It’s about time she wifed Azzi,” Lauren says. “With how damn much she talks about her.”

All the girls nod, and the one whose name Azzi can’t remember says, “Can we blame her, though? Look at her.”

And then they’re all turning to Azzi, cooing and giggling about how pretty she is and about how ‘if Paige didn’t lock you down I would’ve.’

Paige pulls Azzi into her side. “This one’s mine, y’all can get your own!”

Everybody laughs and the game continues. A couple rounds down, when everybody has gotten a chance to both spill secrets and drink a little bit, Azzi gets asked the most personal question thus far, from Avery: “Out of all the people you’ve slept with, who gave the best head?”

Everybody giggles and Azzi is tipsy and not in her right mind so, instead of making something up, she tells the truth, which is, “I’ve actually never gotten head before.”

Everybody stops laughing, looking at her like their jaws might hit the floor. And then Paige is staring at her wide-eyed and she remembers, they’re dating, and she knows enough to know that Paige is an eater, and if the two of them were actually together she’d probably be getting head, like, three times a day.

So she covers it up with a laugh, waving them all off. “I’m kidding. I think you all know the answer to that,” she says, wishing more than anything she were telling the truth.

Paige kisses her cheek. But as somebody else gets asked a question, she’s still got her brows furrowed in Azzi’s direction, and Azzi wonders what she’s thinking so hard about.

For some unknown reason, she can’t wait to get to the hotel tonight.

—————————————————

The two of them don’t actually leave the party until close to one in the morning. They get far too caught up in beer pong, in dancing—in each other.

When they finally get to the hotel, they’re drunk, but not wasted. Thanks to Avery for making them have a glass of water in between each drink.

Of course, Azzi would rather not be wasted. It’s no fun. She loves this light, swaying feeling that comes with being the right amount of drunk.

But with the way Paige has been looking at her all night, she needs to be more inebriated.

It’s only a couple minutes since they arrived at their hotel room and Paige seems to be thinking the same thing. After she takes off her shoes, she flops face-first onto the bed and says, “Wanna be more drunk right now.”

Azzi giggles, walking towards her best friend and sitting cross-legged next to her. “Me too.”

Paige lifts her head. “Think they have champagne in here or sum’?”

Azzi shakes her head.

Paige sits up and makes to get off the bed. “Nah, I’m sure they do—“

Azzi grabs Paige’s wrist. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, pulling Paige to sit beside her. “I just mean…we don’t need to drink more.”

Paige sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”

“No, silly.” Azzi giggles again. She is so in love with her, cluelessness and all. “I mean…” she reaches into her pocket. And then she pulls out the joint Lauren gifted her earlier. Pre-rolled and everything.

Paige’s eyes light up. “Did you…” she laughs, “steal that?”

“No!” Azzi replies, whacking Paige on the arm. “Nah, your cousin gave it to me. She’s so sweet, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige says, rolling off the bed and rummaging through her overnight bag.

Azzi lays back against the sheets. “Paigey?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing down there?”

“Nothin’, mama, just tryna find—yes!” Paige stands and Azzi leans up on her elbows to watch her get back into bed. She’s holding something square and bright purple in one hand as she crawls rather seductively toward Azzi. “Lighter,” she explains when she gets close.

Azzi smiles widely, excitement bubbling in her belly.

“Hold it up,” Paige instructs, and Azzi does, bringing the joint to her lips, making dangerous eye contact as Paige lights it.

Azzi feels herself relax even before the first puff hits her system. Paige stays close and the smoke blows right into her face, making both of them laugh. Paige stares at her for a moment before saying, “Lemme go open the windows.”

While she’s gone, Azzi takes another two drags, and Paige narrows her eyes as she hops back on the bed. “Aight, slow down. Puff, puff, pass.”

Azzi smiles slyly as she passes the joint, watching Paige smoke it. Paige leans back on her free hand and Azzi lets her eyes rove over her covered shoulders, her sports bra, her stomach.

“Eyes up here,” Paige says, handing it back.

Azzi makes a face, too inebriated to care that she’s been caught.

“You wanna see ‘em?” Paige asks.

Azzi coughs a little on the smoke, “See what?”

Paige raises her eyebrows, then begins undoing her button-up before pushing it off her shoulders. And there, on her left shoulder, are three red marks, already darkening after just a couple hours.

“Huh,” Azzi says, taking another drag, “coulda sworn I only left one.”

Paige snatches the joint back. “Quit hogging this shit!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Azzi would usually roll her eyes, but that would entail taking her gaze from the hickeys on Paige’s skin and she’s not willing to do that for even a second.

“They’re brutal, huh?” Paige asks after two puffs.

Azzi shrugs, leaning up a little more on her elbows when she realizes she’s sliding down. She takes the joint and it hovers near her lips as she says, “I’ve done worse.”

Something flares in Paige’s eyes at that. “To who?”

“Dunno.” When Paige raises her eyebrows, Azzi does it right back, handing the blunt over. “What? You’re not the only one who had a hoe era.”

“Didn’t hear too much about yours,” Paige mumbles, smoking and then giving it back, fumbling for her phone as Azzi takes a puff.

A moment later, R&B starts crooning through the room. “That’s because it’s private, P.”

“Mm-hmm.” The joint is short now as Paige takes it back. “Were you being for real? Earlier?”

Azzi closes her eyes, leaning her head back. “About what?”

“That you’ve never gotten head.”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I was being for real.”

“Hm.” Paige nudges Azzi, and she opens her eyes for another smoke. “Why not?”

“Dunno.”

“There’s no way nobody’s wanted to before.”

“Yeah, it’s not that.” Azzi’s eyes are hooded now as she looks into Paige’s red ones, hands uncoordinated as she hands the blunt back. “I just…I say no, when they offer.”

“Because you don’t want it?”

“Because it’s scary.”

Paige frowns at the joint, which only has a drag left in it now. “What’s scary about it?”

“It’s so…personal.” Azzi shrugs. “I’ve never trusted a stranger enough for that.”

Paige nods, still staring at the blunt. Azzi doesn’t think she’s listening anymore. “That thing almost gone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Paige looks at her, then back at the joint. “Here, lay back.”

Azzi grins. “Why?”

“Bro, trust.”

Azzi does. So she lays back, watching as Paige lazily crawls on top of her, straddling her legs.

Azzi’s hands move on their own accord, pressing into Paige’s stomach just to feel the muscle there.

With her free hand, Paige moves her hand to Azzi’s chin. “Open your mouth, mama.”

There’s smoke in the air, pressure between her legs. Azzi squirms to try to relieve it.

“Az,” Paige says, and Azzi’s eyes snap to her at the stern tone. “Open.”

Azzi obeys without hesitating, and she’s too groggy to be surprised when Paige puts her thumb in her mouth, humming a little.

She doesn’t even need to be told before she closes her mouth around it and sucks.

Paige sighs, blunt damn near about to go out as she rocks her hips up against Azzi’s crotch just slightly. “So good for me, hm?”

Azzi nods, trying her best to keep her eyes open as she laves her tongue around Paige’s thumb. They hold eye contact for another moment before Paige remembers the joint and takes the last pull.

Azzi feels a little betrayed, thinking this was just a trick to get the last smoke, but then Paige is leaning down, pulling her thumb out and using it instead to hold her mouth open, before pressing their lips together, shotgunning the smoke directly into Azzi’s lungs.

It’s the easiest drag Azzi’s ever taken.

Azzi is only sort of aware that Paige doesn’t pull away once Azzi inhales. She’s only sort of aware that Paige’s tongue is taking advantage of her open mouth, licking into her for the first time, letting Azzi’s teeth graze over it while they kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy.

Azzi’s heart races when Paige’s hands begin to wander, feeling them go from her throat to her shoulders to her tits, where they hover.

“You good?” Paige mumbles against her. Azzi nods.

Paige squeezes her tits, fisting them up and then brushing her thumbs against her nipples, hard underneath her thin shirt and bra.

“Love your tits,” Paige mumbles, pulling away to kiss down her neck, reminiscent of their moment at the party earlier.

“Yeah?” Azzi breathes.

“Yeah, fuck.” Paige’s breath is hot over Azzi’s neck and she tilts her head to the side, moving her braids out of the way.

“Can’t believe what you pulled tonight,” Paige says, leaning down to nip at Azzi’s shoulders.

“On the couch?” Azzi asks. She can’t help but grin thinking about it.

“You got me all worked up in front of everyone,” Paige’s hands move down to Azzi’s stomach, playing with her belly piercing while she sucks hard at the place she just bit.

“Mm,” Azzi says, closing her eyes and letting the memory, paired with the feeling of Paige’s hands and lips, overtake her. “Couldn’t help it. You were talkin’ to that girl.”

“Yeah, fuck—so needy when you’re jealous, huh?” Paige asks, kissing at Azzi’s cleavage. “That’s so hot.”

“You’re so hot,” Azzi breathes. Under normal circumstances, she’d never boost her best friend’s already huge ego like this. But this is the farthest thing from normal circumstances.

Paige smirks against her skin, the cocky bastard. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Shut up,” Azzi responds, gasping when Paige sucks a mark into the top of her breast.

“This outfit—so fuckin’ slutty,” she says, biting at the sensitive mark she just made.

“You picked it,” Azzi reminds Paige, holding onto her shoulders in an attempt to ground herself.

“I changed my mind. Don’t want anybody to look at you, ever fuckin’ again.”

Azzi laughs breathily at this. “Want me all to yourself?”

Paige lifts her head up to meet her lips again, her arms wrapping around Azzi’s back and arching her off the bed, pulling her close. “You know I do,” she says, pulling back from the kiss to look at Azzi with something like reverence. “All mine.”

Azzi isn’t. All hers, that is. Not really. Not even now. Not knowing that all of this is pretend.

But, maybe Azzi has been all her’s since the day they met. Maybe, years ago, a piece of her heart escaped her own chest and made a home happily in Paige’s, and maybe it will be there forever.

So she nods. “All yours, P.”

Paige smiles so, so big at her, and when they kiss again they’re both giggling, not even really kissing at this point.

“Wait, Paige,” Azzi laughs as Paige’s hand moves to her ass, “what’re we doing?”

“Kissing,” Paige replies.

“Duh, I knew that, genius,” Azzi says, flicking Paige’s forehead, which makes both of them dissolve into giggles again.

“But, seriously,” Azzi continues once she’s gathered herself. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Paige says, nuzzling their noses together.

“Do you think it’s—like, okay? That we’re doing this?”

Paige licks her lips, pressing another kiss to Azzi’s. “We can say…we’re just practicing. We said we’d practice, remember?”

Azzi nods, remembering that conversation that feels so long ago now. “We did.”

“So, this is us practicing.” Paige kisses her again, “And it has nothing—“ another kiss, “to do with the fact that I love—“ yet another one, “kissing you.”

Azzi laughs, squirming away. “Paige!”

“Hmm,” Paige responds, eyes wandering down Azzi’s body.

“Hey,” Paige says after a moment, “do you trust me?”

Azzi brushes a strand of hair out of Paige’s face before cupping her cheek, smiling when Paige leans into her. “More than anyone.”

“So…” Paige smiles deviously, ducking down to press more kisses into the tops of Azzi’s breasts, “would you let me go down on you?”

Azzi laughs at the pure absurdity of the question. “P, don’t play like that.”

“I’m being so deadass,” Paige says, and when Azzi looks down, Paige is already looking at her. There’s no mirth in her tone, in her eyes.

Azzi’s stomach tumbles. “…Seriously?”

Paige nods.

“You…” Azzi furrows her brows, “want to?”

Paige leans up, kisses her tenderly on the lips. “You have no fucking idea.”

That is new information. New and insane and something she will work through tomorrow, when she’s sober.

Right now, all she can think of is the ache that’s been between her legs all night. And the way Paige could help her with it.

“Please,” Paige mutters against her lips, “wanna make you feel so good, baby.”

Azzi looks at her best friend. Her swollen lips, the hickies on her shoulder, her tousled hair.

And she says, “Okay.”

Paige’s eyes light up, and she wastes no time clarifying. Her hands go straight to Azzi’s top, making quick eye contact and pulling it off when Azzi smiles at her.

“Fuck,” Paige says, staring at Azzi’s tits through her lacy bra.

Azzi watches her with amusement, running her hands through Paige’s hair. “You’re no better than a man.”

“I’m not,” Paige agrees, leaning down to litter kisses over all the newly exposed skin. Feeling her lips over her warm skin is good, but it’s not…enough.

“Paige, can you…”

Paige’s eyes dart up to her, searching her face. “You want me to?”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige’s hands move up from her lower back to her bra clasp, and Azzi lifts slightly off the bed to make it easier. Paige makes quick work of it and then she’s sliding that down her shoulders, throwing it across the room like it’s offended her.

Azzi’s hazy as fuck, high and floaty and carefree, but when Paige looks down at Azzi and stares, everything suddenly feels too scary, too vulnerable. She moves to cover herself up, but Paige catches her wrists, pressing a kiss against each of them, eyes darting back to Azzi’s with a comforting smile. “You okay?”

Azzi nods, then shakes her head, then squeezes her eyes shut, embarrassed. “You’re just—looking at me.”

“I am,” Paige says, and Azzi hates the way she sounds slightly amused. “Az, look at me, for real.”

Reluctantly, Azzi does, and Paige’s eyes are all red and hooded and the smile on her face is dopey and she looks faded as hell, but this is still her best friend. The one who knows her, who sees her—who is seeing her like this, right now—and who still continues to be her best friend.

“I’ll stop looking, if you want,” Paige murmurs, leaning down to brush her lips against Azzi’s ear. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?”

The ache between her legs is nearly painful at this point. Truthfully, Azzi shakes her head.

“You look good, Az,” Paige responds, pulling away and leaning back down to her tits. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

She looks up through her lashes as she leans down and suckles a nipple into her mouth.

Azzi sighs at the first real contact of the night, hands fisting Paige’s hair to pull her impossibly closer, hips bucking up on their own accord.

Paige holds her down, mumbling at her to be patient while she trails kisses over to her other tit, licking around it and flicking her tongue over her nipple before she sucks a mark into the skin just beside it.

“Paige,” Azzi gasps, cradling her best friend’s head close. “Feels so good, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” Paige asks, grazing her teeth over Azzi’s sensitive nipple. Azzi keens, hips fighting against Paige to reach up, looking for any type of friction. It makes her chuckle against Azzi’s skin. “She wants me so bad, huh?”

“Don’t refer to it as she,” Azzi giggles, and Paige laughs, too.

“I’ll say whatever I wanna say,” Paige replies, laughing a bit as her kisses stray further down Azzi’s chest, head bobbing a little to the music in the background while she kisses her languidly.

Azzi smiles down at the top of her head. “This is so crazy.”

“What?” Paige licks around Azzi’s belly piercing, not stopping her when she bucks up this time. “That I’m bouta go down on you?”

Azzi nods, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “Yeah. Isn’t it crazy?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, sucking a mark into Azzi’s abs. “Knew I’d do this someday, though.”

Azzi pushes her shoulder playfully. “You did not.”

“Did too.” She smiles devilishly, wiggling her eyebrows while she kisses around the mark she’s made. “You couldn’t resist me if you tried.”

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes.

“Nah,” Paige replies, fingers moving to the button of her jean shorts and fumbling with it. “And you better fix your attitude.”

“What, before you fix it for me?” Azzi asks, lifting her hips to help Paige pull the shorts down.

“Careful,” Paige responds, throwing the shorts somewhere across the room. “Might have to fuck it outta you.”

Azzi nearly whines at the mere thought, and then Paige spreads her legs wide and places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thigh, and she really does whine.

Paige bites the soft flesh there, soothing her hands up Azzi’s stomach as she does so.

Azzi’s head falls back once again, because she’s worried if she keeps looking at Paige she’ll come just from this.

“Mm,” Paige hums into her thigh, licking a long stripe up to where she needs her, tongue stopping just shy of her core. “Watchu want, baby? Want me to eat this pussy?”

Azzi’s hips cant up at the words, a breathy moan escaping her lips. “Yes, shit, want you so bad.”

“Know you do,” Paige coos, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s cunt, clothed only in her thong. “So fuckin’ sexy.”

Azzi swears she’s actually floating at this point, levitating off the bed from Paige’s words, her touch, which has gotta be magic.

“Take them—off,” Azzi insists, hands going to the waistband of her panties to do it herself, but Paige stops her.

“I gotchu,” she mutters, kissing down her legs while she pulls the thong down Azzi’s leg, and it soon joins the rest of her clothes on the hotel room floor.

She sits back on her knees, hands rubbing Azzi’s thighs as she admires her, all spread out just for Paige.

And then she bends down and presses the flat of her tongue against Azzi’s dripping cunt.

“Fuck!” Azzi cries out, the sensation against her pussy unfamiliar and sort of odd and so, so good.

Paige licks up her one more time, gathering her wetness before she separates her folds with her fingers and sucks her clit into her mouth, eliciting a surprised gasp from Azzi.

“Good?” she mumbles, pulling back just enough to look up at her.

Azzi nods, pushing her head down urgently. “Uh-huh, just keep going, baby.”

Paige smirks, looping her arms around Azzi’s thighs and pulling her closer, Azzi gasping as she’s jerked forward. She gets back to it, kitten-licking Azzi’s cunt, eyes closed as she tastes her, and then she opens them and groans. “Fuck, Az. Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

A flush settles over Azzi’s entire body at the words, goosebumps popping up over her bare skin even though she’s the farthest thing from cold.

Paige lays one of her hands flat against Azzi’s pelvis, reaching down and using her pointer finger and thumb to keep her spread open while she places filthy, open-mouthed kisses over her cunt, tongue dipping into her like it did her mouth while they were making out. Azzi props herself up on her elbows, chest heaving, wanting to watch. Paige opens her eyes and catches sight of her—hair tossed over one shoulder, tits rising and falling, abs clenching against the pleasure in her core—and groans, sending vibrations straight through Azzi’s pussy.

Paige’s eyes stay open, all hooded and sexy, as she moves her head down and finally dips her tongue inside Azzi’s entrance, pulling a high-pitched whine from her.

Something flashes in Paige’s eyes and Azzi isn’t really sure what happens, but the next thing she knows Paige is burying her entire face in her cunt, tongue fucking up inside of her so good, and Azzi’s head falls back as she lets out a moan that’s downright pornographic. “Oh, feels so good—gonna come, ‘m so close.”

Paige only nods, doubling her efforts and moving her head back and forth, pulling her tongue out to lick repeatedly from her hole to her clit, creating a rhythm that’s absolutely deadly, and then Azzi’s legs are shaking violently, thighs clamping around Paige’s head, and Paige sucks her clit into her mouth and shakes her head, and Azzi practically screams Paige’s name as she comes hard.

Paige eats her through it, slowing down but not stopping, Azzi falling back against the sheets, unable to hold herself up anymore.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles into her pussy, and when Azzi tilts her head she finds Paige’s mouth and chin shiny with her own slick. “So pretty, mama. Look at you,” she kisses against Azzi’s hole, “comin’ all over my face like that.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, reaching down to push Paige’s head away from her overstimulated cunt. Paige doesn’t budge, kissing up to her twitching clit, causing Azzi to jerk. “Baby, it’s too much.”

Paige’s tongue comes back out, licking delicately at her entrance. “Please, Az. One more.”

Azzi shakes her head, holding onto Paige’s hair, trying to close her thighs. “I can’t.”

“Yeah you can,” Paige murmurs against her, nose nuzzling her clit while she tongues her entrance again. “Be such a good girl for me and take it, huh?”

Paige holds Azzi’s thighs firmly open, and Azzi is already dripping again, so that’s that.

Paige digs back in, slurping at Azzi’s impossibly wet cunt, eating her like she’s a woman starved. Azzi is still so sensitive from the last one and it almost hurts when Paige suckles her clit, but it also makes her whine, hips lifting off the bed to hump against Paige’s face.

Paige moans into her, teeth grazing ever-so-slightly against her engorged clit, and that does it—with a weak cry, blonde hair fisted in her hands, Azzi comes for the second time, hips immediately trying to get away as Paige works her through it.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Paige crawls back up Azzi’s body, smiling proudly. “Did so good, baby,” she coos, kissing Azzi’s cheek before collapsing next to her, pulling her into her side.

Azzi lets herself be held, tracing her fingers gently over the skin of Paige’s stomach. “You’re good at that.”

“I know, mama,” Paige chuckles.

“Hey…” Azzi presses her hand against Paige’s stomach and lifts herself up so they’re face-to-face, “Paigey, I wanna do you, too.”

Paige stares at her, then shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good, baby.”

“Please?” Azzi pouts. It’s totally unfair that she’s laying here, naked and spent, while Paige is still fully clothed and untouched.

“We gotta go to sleep, it’s getting late,” Paige replies, pulling Azzi back down.

“Why can’t I?” Azzi pries, laying her head on Paige’s chest. “I’d be good, I promise.”

“I know you would,” Paige replies, and she sounds like she means it. “I just…it’s okay. Really.”

Azzi doesn’t argue any more, because Paige is tracing soothing shapes over her back, and slowly but surely she’s being lulled to sleep.

But she does wonder, vaguely, if she will ever get the chance to do this again. And, more pressingly—what this means for them.

—————————————————

The next morning, the first thing Azzi does when she wakes is reach blindly across the bed for something warm and solid and snuggly named Paige.

Her hands fist cold sheets, and her eyes shoot open.

“P?” she calls, listening for sound in the bathroom. No answer.

Azzi looks down at herself, naked and bruised from the waist down.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Paige,” Azzi tries again, rolling out of bed and reaching for her phone. No messages. No note on the bedside table.

Pulling the sheet up to cover herself—even though nobody’s around—she navigates to Paige’s contact and constructs a message:

Hey, where’d you go?

She waits a few minutes for the answer, but when it comes, it’s wholly disappointing:

Went for a run. Be back by eleven.

The period at the end is all too telling.

Paige fucked her last night. And then left her to wake up cold and alone in the morning.

There’s nothing good about this.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101

also lmk if yall want the songs i listened to while writing *that* scene 😼

[katszumi]

bakugou hated defeat. he was never one to forfeit anything. if he could challenge the ocean to a battle, he would and sincerely believe he’d win.

once, he admits defeat to the universe and chooses to let you slip through his fingers.

when he began to fall in love with your sweet manner, delicate touch, warm smile and witty behavior, he also began to hate himself.

he hated the way he was when it came to feelings. he knew he wasn’t able to express his emotions like a good boyfriend should. he was intolerable, insufferable. something that couldn’t have mixed with you.

love was a foreign concept to him, something he couldn’t grasp but something he desperately wished for deep down, no matter how many times he brushed it off or ridiculed the idea.

bakugou knew love wasn’t designed for him, and he wasn’t ever going to let his silly imagination deceive him otherwise.

but, he knows his heart never stands a chance. especially tonight when he finds you on the terrace of ua. the night-sky wrapped the area in its darkness, the crescent moon illuminating the brightest color it could, and the silent night bringing the greatest solitude it could.

bakugou attempts to leave you be, but your eyes find him faster than he originally thought, him being pulled into your magnetic, overwhelming aura.

“hey,” he begins, a slight waver in his voice from his nerves. “not enjoyin’ the party inside?”

you chuckle slightly, waving his question off. “just needed some air.”

bakugou nods in response. he folded his arms over the railing, taking in the scenery around them.

it was the last night for the third years at ua, everyone celebrating their triumphs, losses, friendships. it was the last time they’d be within this building all together, the last time bakugou could silently admire you from afar. he’d always think about his last day there, wondering if he’d be shouting from excitement. he wasn’t close to thinking that he’d feel like his whole world was coming down.

you were planning to travel to the united states to start your hero debut, receiving an offer there that you just couldn’t pass up. he remembered the moment when you told him so vividly. you wore a huge smile, basically jumping out of excitement. that was the first time bakugou came to the realization that he couldn’t have you.

truth be told, he was scared of breaking paths with you. anger, sorrow, fear. you shone a light on all of those emotions. it felt like his anchor was gone. breaking every stable piece off of him one by one.

“so, what’s next for you? don’t think you ever told me your plan.”

in his head, bakugou replies with, that was on purpose. he wanted to remove everything from his mind. go with the flow and live in the moment until it was officially time to get started on his new path of life. but, he figured there was no more time to put it off.

“stay in the city for a bit. kirishima talked about collaboratin’ on an agency, so been givin’ that some consideration.” he replies somberly. “i don’t know really, just gotta find something to keep me busy.”

you echoed bakugou’s action from earlier, nodding to his statement. a small sigh parted your lips, partly from exhaustion, but also from sadness.

“you scared?” it came out as a whisper, as if it was a taboo subject to never touch on, and frankly it was when it came to bakugou.

he waited to respond, pausing for as long as he could before the silence turned uncomfortable.

“yeah.” something so simple but spoke so much considering bakugou would never admit such a thing. “you’ll be okay though. you got an offer some of us wish we could have, and i heard the states has good job opportunities.”

“i don’t wanna go.” first it came out as a mumble, bakugou unsure if he just understood the words that came out of your mouth.

“what?”

“i don’t want to go.” this time, your voice was much more stern.

“the fuck you talkin’ about? you’ve been excited for this shit the day you got the letter, now you don’t wanna go? as if.” he was aware that he came off a little too defensive, mostly to shield his heart from catching a little bit of hope, he didn’t mean to come at you so harshly.

you peeled your eyes away from him, purposely avoiding his eye contact. looking at him seemed more like receiving a scolding from a parent more than anything right now.

“i mean, the united states? i’ll be there alone, no family, no friends. it’s not the money or opportunities i’m concerned about, bakugou. it’s about my happiness.” you explained. “isn’t that something you’re thinking about too?”

bakugou weighs his options. he thinks he has nothing else to lose, but he also considers the fact of you breaking his heart even more than it is. besides, you were smart, he knew you were going to take the offer anyway no matter how bad your nerves were eating you up.

“you can’t think with your heart about things like this, y/n.” he knows he’s an asshole. he knows you’re looking to him for the reassurance you want to hear but he just can’t give it.

“i’m not! i just want to be happy doing the things i love and that’s not possible in an environment i cant stand to be in.”

“you don’t know that yet.”

“i’m getting a pretty good feeling.”

“because you’re scared.”

you shrug, “so what? you don’t know how i feel. you’ll be here with your mom, dad, and all of your friends. i’ll have to start over from scratch in a country i know nothing about.”

he scoffed, his eyes darting away from your figure. “right because you know exactly how i feel.” his tone bled with sarcasm.

“you don’t tell me how you feel for anything, so sorry for taking an educated guess.” you retorted.

“you never ask to begin with.”

“as if you’d even tell me. you think i haven’t noticed you avoiding me these past couple of weeks? you don’t even talk to me anymore.”

now the roles reversed, you stared at him, bakugou not daring to look into your eye.

he shifted in his position, beginning to become uncomfortable. he replayed in his mind what he should’ve done moments ago instead of coming to speak to you.

“nothing to say?” you were playing with fire, not caring that you were poking the bear. “guess that’s not anything new. you just do whatever you want, say whatever you wish without thinking of the other person, because you’re ‘katsuki bakugou’. the man who cares about none other than the title of being the number one hero.”

“that’s not fuckin’ true and you know it.” he snaps his head towards you.

“do i?” your eyes searched his. “maybe a few months ago i would’ve, but you’ve been treating me like an outcast recently. i thought i mattered to you! i thought we were something!”

“what do you want me to say here?”

“i want you to be honest.”

bakugou clenched his teeth, his jaw sharpening from the action. of course he wanted to be with you, there was no other girl that he could imagine being with. but it just couldn’t work. you weren’t made to be with a monster, and he didn’t deserve to enjoy something so sweet as you.

so, bakugou opted to refuse the truth once again, brushing her off.

“you’re just too good for me.” he simply replies. “don’t waste your potential here. go to america.”

bakugou takes no more time to indulge in your erratic behavior, so he leaves you at the terrace, the noise of the party being heard the moment he opened the side door.

he wanted you more than anything. if the universe loved him a little more, then maybe things between you two would work out. but because of his shitty luck and vexatious attitude, you two just didn’t match.

he also knew there was just someone you were bound to fall in love with in america.

bakugou wasn’t going to lead you on to make a stupid decision. even if that meant destroying himself in the process.

the morning after, your name wasn’t to be found on any of his socials, and his messages to you turned green. if he didn’t know before, then he definitely knew now that he burned anything he had with you.

pt two

[jenomi]

"look who finally decided to show up!" haechan yells when he sees you and your boyfriend jeno hand-in-hand approaching the group.

"keep going or you won't get a meal from us," jeno responds as he sets your shared stuff in the sand next to your friends towels.

haechan mimes zipping his lips before reaching in one of the paper bags you brought of take out food from the group's favorite restaurant.

you help jeno set up your XL towel to share, the wind whipping through the towel messing up the way the towel lays on the sand. you take off your sunglasses and look out towards the ocean where the sun glint blinds your eyes slightly, but it's so beautiful you can't look away.

when jeno takes off his shirt, you feel yourself getting shy and red even though you've seen him topless countless times. maybe cuz it's in public and in front of your friends. still, you feels a sense of pride.

"showoff," jaemin teases jeno.

you quickly but diligently apply sunscreen on your face and force jeno to sit still as you rub sunscreen into his face. he helps you put sunscreen on your back and you do the same for him before finally settling down and digging into your food alongside your friends.

"thanks for getting the food," renjun says as he sits next to jaemin on his towel.

"enjoy junnie," you smile at him and pat his cheek.

you, jeno, jaemin, haechan, and renjun sit in a loose circle formation as you share stories from the past few days you haven't seen each other or recalling stories from your shared past. you're thoroughly amused listening to the boys share their stories, and you glance over at jeno every once in awhile to catch him smiling or eating his food with wide eyes. you feel the need to be closer to him, so you press your leg against his and lean into him. jeno notices your touch and wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer, continuing to listen to his friend ramble on about the most random things.

afterwards, jeno and jaemin get up to play frisbee on the water. you fall into natural conversation with renjun and haechan, with haechan nagging (ofc) and leaving you repeating phrases like "aishhh" and "so annoying", but deep down you both know you love him like a brother.

after some time, jeno comes back and asks you to go in the water with him. you hold hands walking into the water, stopping when the water first hits your feet to get adjusted to the cold. the water was pretty still today allowing you to get deeper into the water without being swept off your feet by large waves. still, you stayed closer to shore than jeno would prefer.

"come onnn let's go deeper, it doesn't get that deep," jeno pouts.

"jen-" you're cut off by jeno picking you up and running deeper into the ocean, the splashes hitting the back of your legs and face.

"JENO!!" you squeal as jeno laughs under you.

jeno grabs your thigh and wraps it around his waist underwater as you wrap your arms around his neck. jeno secures his hands under your thighs, keeping you propped up and secure against him. jeno smiles at you before kissing you and you play with the wet strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

"are you enjoying your time?" jeno asks.

it was a silly question. the beach was your favorite place to be, ever. it was hard to make time to go to the beach together with your work schedules and the weather not complying. but today was a perfect sunny day and coincidentally everyone had the day off today. so when you texted in the group chat that you and jeno were having a beach day and couldn't make plans, the rest of the boys asked if they could join. you and jeno happily agreed.

"of course," you reply pushing jeno's hair out of his eyes.

"you look beautiful like this," he smiles in return.

"like what?"

"under the sun, happy and glowing," you can hear the sincerity in jeno's voice, "you're my sun."

you bring your face closer to jeno's, foreheads touching, "i love you, if i'm the sun then you're my moon." you share a heated kiss before going for a quick swim then drying off under the sun. you lay on your stomach to read the book you brought and jeno lays on top of you, head resting on your bum.

the other boys start to play spikeball next to you as the sun starts to set. and when jeno wakes from his brief nap, he joins them. you end up watching them play, and the game just becomes a competition between haechan and jeno with renjun and jaemin bad at sports 😭

eventually you all sit back down to appreciate the sunset, with the three boys taking pictures of themselves. beside you, you hear a camera shutter. you turn to look at jeno who pulls up the picture he just took of you.

"pretty," he says adding it to his photo shuffle of phone wallpapers of you.

you and jeno end the day slightly sunburnt, tired from the sun, and hearts full of love.

a perfect day <3

[gojoidyll]

PAINTING PINK. or in which mydei finds amusement when a recently hired artist takes notice of his favorite color where others haven't.

mydei x reader , angst.

His lips pulled into a small, rare smile as his eyes gazed upon a newly painted portrait. It wasn’t the portrait itself that made him smile, though, it was a single detail that caught his eye. A vibrant pink color that swirled around in a blood-tinted glass that was gripped in his right hand. Most painters always sought to paint him in such a destructive light. Usually bathed in blood or recovering from wounds sought from the battlefield, so to see something so useless as pink pomegranate sitting idly in a painted cup, it made him smile. If only a little.

“Do you like this one, Lord Mydei?”

“A little… who painted it?”

“That would be-“

You groaned loudly as you went through your twelfth shade of pink that morning. Your patience was so close to tossing all your paint brushes out the closest window and watch them fall to the ocean where the sea god could take them away or throw them right back at you.

“Something the matter?”

You looked over at your fellow artist, the both of you were recently commissioned by the royal advisors of Castrum Kremnos to paint for the people of the castle. How long your stay will be, you weren’t sure, but you both figured that it will be until they all were bored of your silly little paintings.

“Yah, I can’t get the pink right in his Lord’s pomegranate juice.”

Your friend, Mikhail, crinkled his nose, “pink of all things. Don’t you think you will offend his Lord? I hear he cuts people down for just looking at him the wrong way, you know…”

You rolled your eyes and waved your brush in a dismissive manner as you turned back to your painting, “if he didn’t want to be painted with pink, then he shouldn’t drink pink juice.”

Mikhail prayed silently for your safety.

It wasn’t until a week later when you were by yourself in the work room that was set up for you both when you first came to Castrum Kremnos that you would meet the man you have been painting with pink hues with. He was already there when you walked in, his steel gaze flicking from art piece to art piece – his expression holding amusement with each painting his eyes came across.

“Do you favor the color?”

Looks like he already knew you were the culprit so you couldn’t pin this off to Mikhail…

You swallowed your fear, “I do not.”

“Then why?”

“Because you seem to like the color.”

Then he finally looked at you. His gaze sized you up. Eyes seeming to etch each feature that you had before he met your face, “you would say I favor pink?”

“Well, I didn’t say you favored it perse, but I certainly paint you in the color.”

You looked at a certain piece you were still working on. His back to a sunset as he leaned against a stone ledge, the sunlight itself being a mix of yellow, orange, and pink. His hair fit the color palette perfectly.

“You…,” you braced yourself for a verbal lashing, “wouldn’t be wrong.”

You blinked. Once, twice, three times. Huh … you were not expecting that. Not in the slightest. Mydei, the king of Castrum Kremnos, was an enigma to you. It would be later that he would tell you that he actually disliked portraits of himself and didn’t see a need for them, so you decided to change your tactics and started to paint other things with that pink hue you were still very much trying to master.

“Does it taste good like that? You know, making it pink and everything?”

You didn’t expect to be hanging around the king so much these past few weeks, but you enjoyed his company and you liked to think that he started to enjoy yours as well.

He held it to you, “try it for yourself.”

You thought he was joking at first. You, some outsider, drink from the King’s cup? Perpostrous-

He held it to your lips, the edge of the glass creasing your bottom lip as you could feel a small indent, “drink,” his voice all but commanded as he held it for you. You opened your mouth a bit as he started to tilt it for you. It tasted … normal. Just like how it should taste. You furrowed your brow as you looked at him when he brought the cup from your lips.

“So the color of it doesn’t change the taste? You really just like pink?”

He didn’t give you an answer as he brought the cup to his own lips and took another sip. You started to think he enjoyed teasing you so subtly especially when you found your painting station moved to another room.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at your annoyed expression.

“Don’t you what me. Are you really going to make me paint here?!”

It wasn’t even actually a room. It was in an outside pavilion where your paint, stand, brushes, and canvases were all set in the middle where you were directly facing towards the training grounds. The training grounds that his lord often frequents when he isn’t meddling in the kitchen (which you found out by accident one night when you were craving a midnight snack) or when he was patrolling the city and giving children piggyback rides.

“You need the fresh air.”

“And my coworker?”

“He’ll be fine, he’s near an open window.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as he gestured for you to sit down. Muttering to yourself, you took a seat at your stool as he gave you a small smirk of victory before heading towards the training grounds where a a few stray weapons laid.

And truthfully, if you were being honest, it was hard to concentrate on any of your projects with Mydei sweating in front of you like that. An no matter how much you tried to block him out with your canvas he still managed to come into your view. Before you know it, by the end of the day, you find yourself accidentally painting another portrait of him. It was a rough sketch, but still very much obvious that it was him. You hoped he wasn’t curious enough to see what you were working on…

But of course, all good things come to an end. All jobs have to be concluded and new commissions must be accepted.

“You’re leaving? Just like that?”

You didn’t know who it surprised more, you or him, when he was the first one to break the silence. Despite it only been a few months, it felt like years that you were painting by his side.

“Just like that, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t seem all that saddened by the fact that you’re leaving.”

“Should I be?”

It hurt to say that, but at the end of the day…who were you if not but a poor painter? And who was he but a strong king? You heard the rumors, the whispers that came from the cracks in the walls. You know of the princesses that trail after his ungiving hand, the allies who seek to bend the knee, the enemies that quake in fear of his arrival.

What need does he have towards a painter with an assortment of pink anyway? He has no need at all.

“You were a lovely experience, my lord,” you truly meant that. The soft nights where you two would meet abruptly and without warning. The bright mornings where he would already be holding a spear and you already having a paintbrush between your fingertips. The afternoons where you would share snacks and drinks - savoring each and every second hand kiss. And right back to those soft nights where your fingers would brush against one another in a silent goodbye in fear that the walls might one day grow ears and eyes.

And you were everything, Mydei thought bitterly as you bowed to him and took your leave. And despite the bittersweet departure you left, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the color pink.

[rhiannonsknife]

silly little thought for your yjs summer!—

going to the beach with a stubborn nat who refuses to put on sunscreen, even though… look at her, baby’s definitely gonna burn. so you chase her round your beach setup, trying to put lotion on her, until she ultimately retreats into the water to get away and you give up

and, lo and behold, by the time the two of you leave the beach, nat basically looks like a lobster

— “SUN BATHING” with nat scatorccio 🌞

warnings: fluff. nat being a stubborn little shit + reader being right about the sunscreen.

so, nat & sunscreen. or, more specifically, the lack thereof: she refuses sunscreen. like outright refuses!!

the second you pull the bottle from your bag, she’s eyeing it with suspicion. “don’t even start,” she’ll warn, wrinkling her nose and scooting two inches farther down the towel.

you squint at her from behind your sunglasses. “nat, come on. you’re literally glowing. you’re a hazard to passing ships!”

“i don’t even burn!” nat insists.

you glance at her bare shoulders. they’re pale. very pale. practically-glowing-under-the (very hot)-sun kind of pale, and untouched by any spf.

“you do burn,” you say, chasing after her with a glob of lotion in your palm. “i have seen it happen, natalie.”

nat rolls her eyes, knowing it’s serious when you use her full name. “that was one time,” she calls over her shoulder, ducking behind the beach umbrella for cover.

it’s not a particularly large umbrella, not tilted her way either, so it’s easy for you to stand and walk around her makeshift coverage.

“damn it,” nat mutters when you pop up on the other side .

you lunge and she bolts.

the towel flaps as nat kicks sand in her escape, swearing under her breath. she’s fast, but so are you after years of shared soccer practice, and when you catch up enough to reach for her arm, nat lets out a squeal and flings herself straight into the water.

“coward!” you yell from the shore.

she resurfaces with a grin, floating out of reach, middle fingers raised triumphantly. with a sigh you give up, collapsing back onto the towel and cracking open your book.

meanwhile, nat stays in the ocean, ducking under waves victorious. between chapters, you keep glancing up to check on her, admiring her (very much sunburned) silhouette in the surf.

later, when she finally comes back up to dry off, you take one more look at her and groan. “oh my god, nat.” you point to her shoulders, now an impressive, angry shade of red. “what did i say…?”

nat frowns down at herself. “…it’s not that bad.”

“you’re cooked, nat!”

you end up back at the house with her on the couch, whining into a pillow as you gently rub aloe onto her back, dragging cool palms over her overheated skin.

once the aloe has begun to dry and her breathing has evened out, nat shifts and rests her cheek against your thigh. she launches into a breathless rant, muttering about how her skin feels like it’s actively rejecting its existence: “next time,” she grumbles, “i’ll let you lotion me.”

“you better,” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of her pink nose. “baby lobster.”

nat groans, dragging the pillow over her head.

— requested c.ai bot.

[mellowsadistic]

Love And War - Part 1

Ally decides to mentally regress her best friend in order to steal her boyfriend. Jessica might be pretty, but Daniel isn’t going to find her quite so attractive once she’s toddling around in soggy diapers. Then he’ll be sure to fall for someone as stylish and mature as Ally. Or at least, that’s the plan...

***

Ally admired herself in the mirror, leaning forward and enjoying the way her low cut black crop-top framed her generous cleavage. She gave her chest a quick shake, blew herself a kiss, and straightened up with a satisfied smirk on her face. There was no way Daniel was going to be able to keep his eyes off her when she was dressed like this – especially if her plans for Jessica succeeded.

She left her room and walked into the kitchen with her short miniskirt swishing, exposing the base of her bubble butt. Jessica looked up as she entered, and Ally noticed a slight frown appear on her friend’s face when she saw what she was wearing. Jessica herself was wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans, figure-hugging but certainly not as flashy as Ally’s outfit.

“I’m going to get started on cooking, okay Jess?” Ally said brightly, moving over to the hob.

“Alwight,” said Jessica, and then a blush spread suddenly across her cheeks. “I mean, alright.”

Ally had to fight hard to keep the grin off her face as she got out the pots and pans. Had the hypnosis really worked?

“Daniel’s just texted to say he’ll be back soon,” Jessica went on, “so dat works nicely. That.”

Ally ignored her friend’s little slip ups, but she couldn’t help but glance over to see Jessica’s reaction, and she was pleased to see the look of mingled confusion and embarrassment on her face. She’d just have to get used to it though, Ally thought, hiding her smirk.

At that moment, they heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, and Jessica hurried out of the kitchen.

“Hi, babe!” Jessica said, and Ally thought she could hear the sounds of kissing coming from the hallway. She felt a prickle of anger, but forced herself to stay calm. It wouldn’t be long now. Let’s see if Daniel still thinks she’s so sexy with a dumb baby voice, or any of her other new little habits.

Jessica came back into the kitchen a moment later, and Daniel was right behind her. He was tall and well-built, with high cheekbones, neat blond hair and ocean-blue eyes. He flashed a smile at her as he entered the room, and Ally felt her pussy moisten.

“Hi, Daniel!” she said, a little too eagerly, and she could see Jessica eyeing her a suspiciously. Her flatmate knew she’d liked Daniel as well, but Jessica had asked him out first, and she’d agreed that fair was fair.

“Hey, Ally,” said Daniel. His voice was deep and soothing, and Ally felt butterflies tingling in her stomach. This one was going to be hers. “Something smells good,” he added.

“I’m making Bolognese for the three of us. It won’t be long, so take a seat, okay?” And hopefully it will be another chance to see just how effective the hypnosis has been.

Daniel sat down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table, lounging comfortably with one arm draped over the top. “Did you get your essay done this afternoon, Jess?” he asked his girlfriend.

“Uh, no,” said Jessica. “It’th weird. I mean… It’s weird. I sat down to do it, but I must have spaced out ‘cause suddenly it was nearly dinner-time already! Isn’t dat stwange?” Her face reddened suddenly and she raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

Daniel laughed. “You okay there, sweetie?” he asked, cocking his head and looking at his girlfriend in amusement.

“I… um… yeth!” she squeaked. “I don’t know what’th wong wif me today! I mean…” She giggled to hide her embarrassment, but there was a trace of fear in her eyes. She put a hand to her lips like she thought there might be something wrong with them.

Ally turned around and busied herself at the hob to hide her smile. Poor little Jessie, she thought delightedly. It’s going to be pretty hard to dirty-talk with such a silly lisp.

Daniel looked faintly concerned, but he was distracted by Ally bringing over a pot of spaghetti Bolognese and placing it in the middle of the table, making sure to bend down low to give him a good view of her breasts as they jostled in her crop-top.

They all sat down to eat, and Ally made sure to keep an eye on Jessica, looking out for the next part of the hypnosis to take effect. And sure enough, it didn’t take long. A few bites into her spaghetti, and Jessica suddenly started finding it much more difficult to get everything into her mouth – but she hardly seemed to notice, even as she covered her lips in Bolognese sauce, and a piece of spaghetti stuck to her chin.

“Oh, Jessie!” Ally chided, putting on a maternal, patronising, slightly exasperated tone that she hoped would give Daniel the impression this happened on a regular basis. Before Jessica could so much as open her mouth, Ally was by her side with a wet cloth, wiping her face clean like she was a mucky toddler in a highchair.

 “I didn’t realise how much of a messy eater you were, Jess!” Daniel laughed. “It’s a good thing you’ve got Ally here to look after you, huh?”

“But I don’t…” Jessica mumbled, as Ally finished wiping the sauce off her face for her, “I’m not…”

“I think we ought to get you a bib!” Daniel teased, ignoring her feeble protests.

Jessica went even redder than she had been already, and she splurted out, “Nu-uh! Don’t wanna bib!”

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re alright?” Daniel asked, looking a little concerned again.

Jessica opened her mouth to respond, thought better of trying to speak, and closed it again. She nodded, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. Then she went back to her spaghetti.

The three of them continued to eat their meal, and Ally chatted with Daniel casually, enjoying the way his eyes kept flitting to his girlfriend’s increasingly messy face as she slowly got more and more of her dinner all over it. He was clearly thinking that something was wrong, or wondering whether some dumb joke was being pulled on him.

“I swear, you’re as bad as a two-year-old, Jessie,” Ally scolded good-naturedly, wiping Jessica’s face clean once again after they’d finished their meal.

“I… I…” Jessica stammered, “I’m sowwy. I dunno why I’m…” She sniffled, and then, even as the other two watched, her thumb crept up to her mouth and pushed its way gently between her lips.

“Uh… Jessica?” Daniel asked cautiously.

Jessica looked up. Then her eyes widened, and she suddenly pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a wet pop and looked down at the drooly digit in alarm.

“Why don’t we go to your room, sweetie?” Daniel suggested gently, helping his helpless-looking girlfriend out of her chair. “Thanks for cooking, Ally!” he said over his shoulder. “But I think Jess might need a little lie-down or something.”

“No problem!” Ally said brightly. Once she heard Jessica’s bedroom door close, she allowed a Cheshire-cat grin to spread over her face. This was perfect. The lisping and the messy eating and the thumbsucking made Jessica look completely ludicrous! There was no way Daniel could take her seriously as a girlfriend when she acted like an overgrown toddler! And the real kicker would be what little Jessie would be doing in her bedsheets that night…

Ally went to her own bedroom and took the package out from under her bed, just for the pleasure of seeing it again. Infantilisation Hypnosis, it read on the front, causes lisping, messy eating, thumbsucking, and bedwetting. It hadn’t been hard to upload it onto Jessica’s phone, where it was able to work its way into her head through the music she always listened to when she studied. She looked down at the bright yellow label in the corner (WARNING: all effects of this tape are permanent!) and felt a twinge of guilt. But it was nothing personal. Jessica would just have to find a boyfriend who didn’t mind waking up to the smell of pee every morning. And who didn’t care that his girlfriend spoke like a six-year-old. And sucked her thumb. And made a mess of herself at mealtimes.

She’d manage, Ally told herself with a smirk, as she spied Jessica scurrying out of her room with a bright red face and a bundle of soggy-looking sheets in her arms the next morning. She was cute, after all. And in any case, wasn’t all fair in love and war?

[xoxochb]

— prettiest eyes (ever seen) ꣑ৎ‧₊˚. pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader lyrics: “he has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen” + “every piece of me holds parts of you” a/n: I’m thinking about a part two…

“look at me, my love”

you smile and percy opens his eyes with a similar expression. you’re truly like a silly school girl, a pink hue adorning your cheeks when he makes direct eye contact. you rub your thumb over his bottom lip before pecking him once. he pouts when you pull away far too quickly for his liking

“come back” he leans in himself this time and reclaims your lips, for longer this time, though you’re not complaining. when he breaks the kiss you sit back upright with a lovestruck expression. his sea green eyes bore into yours, into your soul, like there was more there than just simple irises. It makes you giddy to know these eyes are all yours to stare into

“percy” you whisper. he hums in response and you continue “you have pretty eyes”

“you think so?”

you nod and bite your bottom lip. you’re drowning. completely and utterly drowning in the eyes of his. your stomach feels all fluttery and all your skin feels warm and tingly. you remove your hands from his cheeks and search the sand until you come across a green rock. you pick it up and hold it to percy’s eyes

“perfect” you mumble absentmindedly

“what’s the rock for?”

your cheeks have surely turned red by now. “It matches your eyes. I think I’ll cut the edges off and put it in a necklace”

his eyes widen and he starts frantically searching the sand himself until he finds his own rock, repeating the same process and holding it to your eye this time

“does it match?” you inquire

“sure does. will you make me a necklace with it?”

“of course” you take the rock from his palms and place that one and the other, shoving them into your pocket for later

“come here, lovely girl” percy flashes you the softest of smiles and slots his lips with your own tenderly. it makes those butterflies in your tummy go crazy with the way he kisses you so lightly, un rushed, like he never wants to part from your warmth

and he doesn’t. continuing to kiss you breathless, in a needy manner, pulling you onto his lap, hands under your shirt. you’re not sure where this sudden urge came from, yet you can’t find it in yourself to stop him, you just as eagerly push his lips further into yours, if that was even possible to do. his fingers dig into your skin, bound to leave some kind of mark tomorrow. he tastes just like the ocean, salty, inviting, you need more of him you tug at the raven hair over the nape of his neck, tugging it urgently, eliciting him to groan into your mouth

percy pulls back for only a moment, and with his lips still lingering over yours he rasps, “want to go back to my cabin?”

and you so know the answer to that

[swetblom]

𑁥ಎ miami heat wave ♡ c. the heat isn’t the only think creeping up brian’s neck, standalone.

the miami heat has been unbearable the past few days, rising so quickly that no one is happy about it. well, most guys don’t mind—girls are wearing smaller clothes, and that’s always a sight to behold. but not for brian. he doesn’t look at anyone but you. only you. and to say he’s content with that would be an understatement.

you’ve been spending more time at his apartment lately, taking refuge in his stronger ac, and brian can’t help but enjoy the sight of you. hair up, one of his loose shirts clinging to your body from the sweat dripping down your skin, small shorts—or sometimes just underwear—on your lower half to let as much air touch you as possible. you grumble about the heat, and brian, ever the opportunist, makes a joke about how the weather isn’t the only hot thing in miami. you send him a look, unamused, which he easily wipes away with a silly kiss.

today is no different—scorching weather, brian’s jokes—but this time, the two of you decided to grab lunch at your favorite place after work. brian says he’s making it up to you for the miserable heat, though it almost irritates him that he can’t just fix the temperature himself. this is the best he can do. most of the seating is outside, and while he would have preferred the comfort of air conditioning, you insist on feeling the ocean breeze. so, as always, brian does as you ask.

as you both wait to be seated, brian notices a man sitting not too far from the center of the restaurant. his eyes are on you, scanning you in a way that instantly annoys brian. you, blissfully unaware, are too focused on the sun beating down on the front half of your body. between the heat and the stranger’s lingering stare, brian shifts, stepping in front of you with his back to the man—coincidentally blocking the sun as well.

the immediate relief makes you sigh. “thanks, bri. i swear i was gonna melt,” you say, smiling up at him, eyes warm despite the heat. brian barely processes his own words, too caught up in you. “no problem, sweetheart.”

once you’re seated, his attention remains on you, though he shifts subtly to continue blocking the man’s view. this time, he lets his gaze flicker over, sending a silent warning. when he looks back, you’re running an ice cube along your neck, eyes closed in pure relief. brian swallows. “i got it,” he mutters, plucking the ice cube from your fingers. he presses it against your skin himself, watching a pleased shiver run through you as your eyes close. “you’re so sweet.” brian only hums, his fingers lingering against your damp skin. If only you knew.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Every Corner of This House is Haunted

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Marriage in Crisis, Angst, Reader and Nanami are in their 30s, Not Proofread

Chapter II -> Masterlist if this Series

“I want a divorce.”

The silence after you utter those words pierces through your mind, making you second guess your comment. You don’t want to repeat them, afraid the next time you say the words, you won’t even mean it. Kento simply continues driving, pretending like you never spoke. Anxiety blooms in your chest, so tightening you almost feel as though you can’t breathe.

Once you reach your apartment building and get on the elevator, you give into your nerves.

“Kento,” you call.

He looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

You push back the tears that are so desperate to come out of your eyes. “You heard me.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The elevator rings and he steps out into your penthouse. 

“Kento!” you finally shout.

He turns around with a stern expression masking his face. “What?”

“Please.”

“You’re being ridiculous. There’s no need for you to say something like that.”

Letting out an exasperated scoff, you hear your voice break as you speak. “You cannot possibly be saying that, Kento, when you damn fucking well know we haven’t even talked in ages.”

“Yes, we have,” he claims calmly.

“No, Kento, we haven’t. And see this is the issue– you don’t even realise we may be drifting apart.”

“We aren’t drifting apart.”

“Stop invalidating me like that!” you snap. “You think you’re so mature and you know every fucking thing when in reality you’ve grown emotionally unavailable. You only talk about work, we never go out on dates, and when was the last time you kissed me Kento?”

His demeanour shifts slightly, which makes you wonder if he realises his faults.

“We are both busy, my love.”

“Too busy to even see each other?”

He sighs. “You’re right. I have been neglecting you.” He comes forwards and touches your arms. “How about you give me a chance? Let me take you out on a date tomorrow.”

You look into his eyes, the same ones you fell in love with so many years ago, the ones that feel like an ocean you can happily drown in. He pulls you into a hug and you melt, his arms both your greatest kryptonite and strongest warrior. How could you ever leave him?

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says, his voice as soft as ever. “I’ll make it right, I promise. Be ready at 7pm tomorrow, okay?”

–

The next day rolls in in a matter of moments. As Kento sits behind his desk at his office with his thoughts laminated with guilt, his mind replays the moments you said you wanted a divorce. He had felt his life flash before his eyes, like someone ripped his heart apart from his ribcage. Had he been so blinded by ambition and competence that he forgot to consider the feelings of the reason he breathes?

“Sir?” the voice of his assistant breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“The clients are here, the meeting can start now.”

–

Hours pass in the meeting, but eventually, the deal is finalized. Kento returns to his cabin and relaxes into his chair, satisfied with himself. Stretching out his arms, he finally peeks into his phone that seems to be flooded with notifications from you. Why would you send him so many–

Oh.

Fuck.

He checks the time. It’s 9:42 PM. The meeting had taken longer than it should have. But worst of all, he had forgotten about the plans with you. With shaking hands, he sprints out of his office, maniacally driving to your place.

He stumbles out of the elevator. “Y/N,” he calls out. “I’m so sorry for being late, my love, I was occupied with very important clients.” He goes up to your bedroom and opens the door, expecting to find you there.

“Y/N?” he calls out again when he doesn’t. His heart almost leaps out of his chest as he hysterically moves around the house, shouting out your name and calling your phone. All to only be responded with nothing. 

You were gone.

A/N: Sorry, I was feeling a little silly. 🤭

[folklovrr]

nature feels spencer reid

| spencer reid x fem!reader

| hello! my first post on tumblr. inspired by frank oceans song nature feels. but also like… kind of not. idunno!! minors please dni (18+)

| content warning: religious references, munch!spencer (😁) worship?!, making out, alludes to pinv.

Spencer Reid was an endlessly curious man. It generally didn’t matter what the subject was, he already knew about, and could be classified as an expert in the field.

He like to think of himself as a specialist in all things mathematics, chemistry, engineering, and you. At times like these, that last one became more of a weakness than a strength.

Sitting on the plane home, returning from an exhausting case, hearing the bass line from Derek’s headphones and the muffled sounds of Rossi and Hotch discussing something that could be anywhere from the case to his latest interaction with wife number nth, Spencer Reid couldn’t stop thinking about sleeping with you. You hid in the buzz of the engine, the smell of coffee leaking out of the jet’s small kitchen, taking him to the four walls of your shared apartment, where the smell was omnipresent.

Many people might compare you to a warm summers day, but he found that misrepresentative. You were much more comparable to a snowy christmas evening. It’s the time of year that everyone looks forward to, cookies and cakes and freshly cooked meals, things that were constantly filling your kitchen, love leaking from their extra chocolate chips. All year round, when christmas music plays, people are filled with joy and cheer, and he thinks this phenomenon is not unlike to that of your sounds, and when his memory so unhelpfully brings those to the forefront of his mind, he is filled with that same joy.

The familiar bump of the jets landing cut this train of thought, and as the team filed back to quantico, Spencer had never been more grateful for two things:

1. the fbi’s access to efficient travel - he thinks that if he was forced to sit in the metro waiting, the personification of himeros that was sitting eagerly in his heart ( and other parts of him that he was careful not to pay attention to at this time ) would grab him by the shoulders and force him under the need that he was drowning in.

2. the invention of internet and online communication - the influx of texts from that had ceased to deliver while he was in the sky all flooded in at once, giving him the idea that this missing business was not one sided.

| spence, hope you’re ok :( penny told me that case was tough. cant wait to see you

| I have missed you so much. cant stop thinking about you. text me when you land, love.

| come find me when you get home, doctor ;) i have a surprise for you!

It was in moments like these, when people showed even the slightest romantic fondness for him, that he was taken back to his bumbling college experiences with sex. A word that people danced around, but he researched thoroughly. Not for perverse reasons, as this form of interest in the female anatomy would hit him a bit later in life, but pure curiosity. Why did people enjoy? He could understand what the appeal was for men, but what made the experience enjoyable for the other sex?

These questions still plagued him to this day, even after extensive practical elements were added to his studies, with you being a very supportive test subject. Spencer explored what it was like to feel, and to find meaning through this thing that had become so, even though it sounds silly to say, sexualised in media, and to move past the physical elements (but he still appreciated those, greatly) and to find what philosophers spent eons theorising over, which the two of you seemed to have found so easily. Connection.

In the many nights he had spent tangled in your embrace, Spencer mused thoughts of the origins of humans, and as the quiet hymns of the night sung, he worshipped Apollo for having mercy on the split humans and reconstituting their forms, allowing them to find this physical bond, and their souls other half.

As the elevator at quantico rose to the BAU’s floor, the team had a quiet understanding amongst them that small talk was not necessary, and that conversations of weekend plans were trivial in comparison to the things the victims had been through.

After finishing up the, for lack of better words, ginormous pile of paperwork, Spencer was finally free to follow the light of your twin flame home. As he sits in the metro though, he is brought back to the disdain he holds for the public transportation system, and the distain for every passenger that gets of on a stop before his, slowing his journey. He wishes that access to the fbi’s vehicles was available off the clock, for boyfriends whose need for their girlfriends was eating them alive. How inconsiderate of them.

When the autonomic voice announced the station where you resided, so close yet so far, Spencer jumped out of his seat, himeros once again took control of his body, willing his muscles all the way home.

As the loved in door to your home creaked open, Spencer was guided by the candlelight and warm lamps through to the back garden, where the leaves and flowers of the cherry trees spread through the garden fall gracefully and surround a figure, who is gently swing back and forth on a tree swing. Spencer sees you, and wonders what if this is what Adam thought when he first saw Eve, and if he too felt so compelled to caress the slopes of her neck and pray at her divine altar.

The leaves under Spencer’s converse crunched, and alerted you to his presence. As you turned around, there was barely a split second before Spencer was on you, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck with his arms planted firmly around your waist.

“hi spence”, you whispered quietly into his hair, the glasses on the bridge of his nose digging into the skin of your neck. he began to plant soft kisses there, to exhausted to formulate a response. You nudged his chin with your shoulder, and his lips landed softly on yours, gentle kisses explaining things that words do no justice to.

As the night air became more humid around you, and fireflies surrounded the two of you, Spencer’s warm hands pushed the ankle length hem of your spring dress up your thighs, closer to your core. He kisses a pathway up your calf, up your thigh, towards the need in your centre, and ponders if god had made you for him.

Spencer thinks that he is fairly devoted to a number of things, like his work, or his academia, but the way he eats you out is oh so blasphemous. He circles and flicks and plunges just right, and as the cherry flowers fall in his hair, he looks like a debauched angel, with a sole mission of making you come on his tongue. he is devoted to it, and it’s his mission.

The way that you moan his name and pulse around his fingers turns him on more than things that are seen as generally sexually conductive for the male gender, and as you pull his roots and tighten your thighs around his head, he feels the satisfaction of your pleasure travel all the way to his climax, without being touched. Truly sinful Spencer Reid, truly Sinful.

As his mouth separates from your divinity, he thinks that the string of saliva that connects you is symbolic of every single thing that connects your physical elements to the emotional unison that you share. As the dirt digs into Spencer’s knees, and the thighs around his head loosen with satisfaction, He can’t help but compare you to the delicate cherry blossoms, and he sees your kindness and ineffable gentleness bloom around the garden.

You stand, and pull Spencer to his feet, and as he pushes you against the bark of the cherry tree, ready to connect again, just as Apollo and Adam and Eve and whoever else he had to thank for this intended, he can’t wait to feel your nature, to make love.

a/n thank you for reading!!! i know it’s rough, but yet i persevered and finished it. yay me 😛.