#i think it's in a “mostly presentable” state

[fluo-skeletons]

Toriel and alcohol

Let me say this first: this is not a hate post, & I do not think that having a thing with a substance makes someone a bad person and I suspect that some of the fandom is so resistant to the idea of Toriel having an alcohol problem because it's often seen as a 'bad person trait' and Toriel isn't a bad person, therefore she couldn't possibly have a problem. Yikes!

Anyway. She is consistently shown going overboard with drinking while the others around her (if any present) generally stay sober.

I will put a cut here cuz there's gonna be a long list of images

From the winter alarm clock dialogue:

this one might be a stretch, but it's possible that she drank alone in the Ruins too, because Flowey specifically mentions this after she falls asleep drunk at the party:

(man. this part always kills me. Flowey seeing his mom like this. ugh. How his and Chara's death affected her like this. He can't just go and say "hey mom I'm alive". But he leaves a glass of water with her. maaan..... )

from the 1 year anniversary QnA:

^this is pretty much the only time she's featured and there's a drinking mention

And, of course, the jitterbug scene from deltarune chapter 4:

she's very clearly intoxicated, while her new friend seems mostly sober (or at least I didn't notice any indication that he was in a different state)

also note Kris's reaction: while Susie seems shocked, Kris simply turns away in embarrassment/shame. (yes susie is also looking away here but i think she's rather looking at Kris)

Kris steps out of the way in time when their mom falls

Like. She's well meaning but ABSOLUTELY unaware of how her behaviour affects others. See also: the part about the winter party where she is playing with Alphys's arms

I don't think Kris is in the mood for pancakes after seeing their mom shitfaced, they probably just want to get away from the situation. And judging by their reaction, this is not the first time they see Toriel like this- this is a Thing she Does. Whether it be a frequent thing or only at celebrations and therefore rare, every time she's been mentioned having alcohol, she's also mentioned as having had too much, in strong contarst with the others also present.

I don't really have a takeaway from this, other than this being more of her dealing with her problems through some form of avoidance. And, again, I'm not calling her a bad person. But she's not doing as well as she is trying to present.

[theshiniestgemstone]

I’ve been having this thought about Gideon, where he’s back working for the church and all (maybe before he left?) and he’s been tasked with helping a family friends daughter “see the light” as she’s going through her dark edgy phase, going out partying/drinking etc. and he’s like having such a hard time keeping her under control because he’s supposed to “watch her��� ya know and keep her out of trouble, but she just keeps sneaking out anyways and he has to follow her to a party one night, maybe something happens there and he has to rush in and protect her?

- 🦇

Gideon had not expected ministry to feel like a second adolescence.

The title of the new Wednesday Morning Preacher sounded gentle. A soft place to land after the stunt work, after the years of campfires and blackmail and lock-in nights that pushed a man to his limits. But this new job, the one his mentor called “the delicate work,” wasn’t delicate at all.

His first few sessions had been manageable. Some former golden boys who’d been kicked out of college for substance use or girls who’d sobbed about family rejection after quitting med school. Mostly guilt-wracked twenty-somethings with baggage and Bible verses memorized out of obligation. They were easy. Hurting, but moldable. They came with questions. He came with structure.

And then there was Y/N.

Y/N was not guilt-wracked. Or if she was, she kept it under a thick coat of sarcasm and dark eyeliner. She sauntered into his office on a sunny Wednesday morning like she’d been summoned to a boring court appearance, iced latte in hand and sunglasses in her hair. She wore a top that made him stammer mid-sentence and told him with a grin that she’d only come because the court-appointed counselor was “more annoying.”

The meeting lasted about seven minutes.

He said something about presentation. He'd thought about it for days. He chose his words carefully, though not careful enough. Something about modesty and mindfulness, about the temptation of the eye. About how our bodies are temples.

She laughed. “You think I got dressed for you?”

Then she threw the rest of her latte in his face.

Gideon went home after he washed the almond milk out of his collar in the bathroom. He prayed for guidance. He prayed for patience. He prayed she would simply not come back. He was willing to lose what his father called his winning streak and bragged about to deacons from across the country.

She did come back, though.

In the second session, she was quieter. No sunglasses. No coffee. But she tapped her nails on the armrest of the chair the entire time and refused to look at him directly.

He tried another approach: grace first. Fewer questions. More scripture. He asked about her favorite books. She gave him a list of authors who all hated the church.

They made it twenty minutes.

“I’m not one of your broken projects,” she told him as she stood. “You don’t get to be my personal redemption arc.”

He nodded, but felt the sting anyway. "Have a great day, Y/N."

That was supposed to be the last of it. He hadn’t heard from her in weeks.

Until he got a call at 3:08 AM.

The voice on the line was unfamiliar. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he listened to what sounded like a nightclub on the other line.

"Hello?"

“Hello? This chick's phone is dead. She’s…uh, not in a great state. But your card was in her purse.”

He stood up, using his foot to kick around for his jeans in the dark. “Where are you?”

They were outside a bar with a flickering neon sign and a bouncer who looked like he’d seen this scenario a hundred times. Y/N sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, mascara smudged and a split in her tights. When she looked up and saw him, she groaned.

“No,” she muttered. “I didn’t want you. I wanted an Uber.”

“You got me,” he said simply, crouching beside her. “Come on. Let’s go. I'll drive you home."

She resisted at first, whining when he reached for her hands. He waved to the bouncer, one of the men from his usual Wednesday group. She said something about not needing a lecture, her words garbled and eyes closed. But the moment she stood, she swayed, and his hand went automatically to steady her.

In the car, she rolled down the window and leaned her head on the frame. “You gonna give me the God’s love is eternal talk again?” she mumbled, spitting out the window.

“No,” he said. “I think tonight you just need water and sleep.”

She looked at him sideways. “You’re weird, Pastor.”

He glanced at her. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

The ride was quiet after that.

He dropped her off at her apartment, made sure she got to the door, and left without asking for thanks. Just a quiet “Goodnight, Y/N,” before walking back to his car.

The next week, she was back in his office. She brought her own water and didn’t say much for the first ten minutes. Then, she cocked her head. “Why do you even do this?”

He looked up from his notes. “Ministry?”

She shrugged. “This. Babysitting. Being nice to people who clearly suck.”

He smiled faintly. “I don’t think people suck. I think they suffer. And sometimes, they claw at whoever’s closest.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t claw. I splashed.”

He laughed.

She didn’t.

“I’m not a church girl,” she said. “I never was. My mom just thinks any form of fun is the Devil's work."

“I don’t think you have to be a church girl,” he said. “God isn’t looking for church girls. He’s looking for people who are willing.”

“To do what?”

“To try again.”

She didn’t say anything. Her nails started tapping again.

He let her be.

A few more Wednesdays passed. She started staying the full thirty minutes. Sometimes longer. She brought her own Bible once, bent and highlighted, obviously forgotten in the back of a car for years, but it was hers, with her name written in pink pen and a little heart.

Sometimes she asked about scripture. Sometimes she talked about her mom.

One week she said, “I don’t know how to be soft. I don’t even know if I want to be.”

And he replied, “You don’t have to be soft to be healed.”

When she left that day, she didn’t slam the door.

It started with her missing a single Wednesday. Then two. Then Sunday. Then she was gone altogether, her name just another inked line in the list of people Gideon was tasked to pray for during his devotional. He didn’t take it personally. He knew better than to get offended by the backsliding of someone who hadn’t found their footing to begin with, but he still found himself watching the door each service, half-expecting her to stroll in late, but she never came.

He called her one afternoon, just before locking up his office. His voice was quiet, hesitant, like he didn’t want to scare her off by showing too much concern.

“Hey, it’s Gideon,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped out into the heat. “Just checking in. Haven’t seen you in a bit. You doing okay?”

Her voice on the other end was warm and slurred with amusement, not alcohol. Not yet. “I’m going to a party tonight,” she said. “It’s nothing wild. I’ll be home early.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding though she couldn’t see. “Just let me know when you get home.”

"Sure will, Gideon."

She didn’t text.

He waited until midnight, pacing the kitchen, his Bible open but ignored on the counter. The clock ticked past one. Something gnawed at him, low and urgent. He picked up the phone and called anyway.

She answered after the third ring, breathless and unmistakably drunk. “Heyyy, Pastor Gideon,” she sang.

“You okay?” he asked immediately.

“I’m fiiine,” she said, dragging out the word. “Just… just tired. The guy I came with, he’s being annoying. He won’t leave me alone.”

That was enough. “Where are you?” he asked, reaching for his keys.

She tried, but it came out slurred and jumbled. “Hang on, I’ll just tell you.”

By the time he pulled up, the house was glowing in blue and pink party lights, laughter spilling into the street. Cars lined both sides of the road. He didn’t have to look long. She was on the side of the house, away from the music, pinned between a stucco wall and a man twice her size. She was mumbling something, pushing weakly at his chest. He leaned in again.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” the guy was saying, frustration edging his voice. One hand was on her hip, the other was trying to undo the button of her top

“I said no,” she snapped, trying to twist away.

“Hey,” Gideon said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “She said, leave her alone.”

The man turned. “Who the hell are you?”

“Doesn't matter to you,” Gideon said, steady. He reached out a hand to her, but she missed. “Let her go.”

“Mind your business, priest.”

“She is my business.”

The guy shoved him, hard, two hands to the chest, sending Gideon back a step. “Then you’ve got shitty taste, man. You think she’s not out here doing this every weekend?”

Gideon raised a hand, trying to deescalate. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Too bad,” the guy said, and then swung.

The punch caught him just below the eye, hot and sharp. Gideon reeled for half a second, and then his body remembered a grittier version of itself. He ducked the next blow, twisted, and planted his palm into the guy’s sternum hard enough to knock him off-balance. Another move, a quick sweep of the foot, and the man hit the ground with a thud and a groan.

“Let’s go,” Gideon said, turning to her. His cheek was swelling already.

She blinked at him, wobbly and dazed. “Did you just… ninja that guy?”

“Later,” he muttered. He led her to the car, holding her up by the elbow as she laughed quietly to herself.

"What's so funny?" He asked as he buckled her in.

"Dude, you went like full Jackie Chan on that guy. Do you moonlight as, like, Batman?"

He hummed. "Why do you think I talk about forgiveness a lot."

The joke went straight over her head. "Yeah, that guy is never forgiving you."

The ride was mostly quiet. She hummed with the music for a minute before dozing off against the window. At red lights, he kept glancing at her, at the smudged mascara under her eyes, at the tiny rip in her sleeve, at the way her lips parted as she slept.

He got her inside without waking her much. Upstairs, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed into the couch with a sigh. Her eyes fluttered open for a second as he stepped back.

“Wait,” she said, reaching for him, her fingers brushing his jaw. “You’re all… bruised.”

“It’s nothing,” he said gently. "I've had worse."

“Lemme see,” she whispered. She leaned in, inspecting his face with exaggerated focus. Her touch was soft and clumsy, more affectionate than useful. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t hit me.”

“I brought you into it.”

“You called me,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

She tried to sit up, muttering something about an ice pack and a drink, but she slumped forward instead, her head against his shoulder. She exhaled. He waited, holding still.

And then her breathing deepened.

He adjusted her so she lay on her side, pulling the throw blanker over her gently. He looked around her room, half-cleaned, a few clothes on the floor, an open book of poetry on the coffee table. She looked so different like this. Peaceful. Human. Not the firestarter he first met.

He switched off the light, lingering for a second at the doorway.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

And then he pulled the ice pack from the freezer with a plan to return it eventually. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

[secrets-and-shadow]

“The Harbinger’s Path” | Panel preview (in-progress / artwork not final)

While I'm as much a fan of our kind and gentle Pact Marshal as the next person, I confess I'm just as fond of Trahearne's more "fierce" side alluded to several times in the canonical story.

From the core story, where he proclaims that the "wrath of a firstborn is something to fear!" when Amaranda the Lonesome's safety is threatened, all the way to Ridhais describing him as a "living legend."

I like to imagine Trahearne was fiercely defiant during his capture by Mordremoth.

This is a side of him I always wished we could have seen during the Heart of Thorns story. It is one of several themes I wish HoT might have explored, and that we will soon explore in The Harbinger's Path :)

[serpentface]

Retconned Wardi firearms- a basic handgun, a highly decorative ceremonial handgun (belonging to Faiza), and a lance-gun.

Gun tech has officially been nerfed down to hand cannons (press F) (this has been a long time coming but I'd been fallacy of sunk costs-ing myself out of retconning).

Handguns are held similarly to a shotgun, with the butt pressed into the user's shoulder, one hand gripping under the barrel, and the other free to ignite the gunpowder. These represent the most advanced firearms in contemporary usage, both in make and in their use of uniform iron projectiles built to match the gun's bore for greater range and efficiency. Lance-guns are the more basal form, usually larger and mounted with the pole held over the shoulder, and are most effectively used by two people (one to hold and aim, one to light the gunpowder).

The spread of firearms is currently mostly limited to the Eastern Inner Seaway peoples (with some additional distribution via overland trade), and actual manufacture of hand cannons and gunpowder at Significant scale is limited to the region's core powers.

The reason for this limited spread is partially due to specific elements of the technology's history. Gunpowder was first synthesized by Burri alchemists and considered to be the discovery of the legendary divine weapon + solar fire of the deity Inanariya, and its formula (along with techniques for ideally refining its components) remained a closely guarded state secret. It was used predominantly in priestly contexts to generate flame and explosive sounds (in conjunction with earlier practices of generating multicolored flames with use of other chemicals), then integrated into combustible weaponry in the forms of fire lances, which would eventually develop into early handcannons.

The treatment of gunpowder as a guarded sacred or semi-sacred substance continued with Wardi adoption, where knowledge of its making is considered a closed rite. It's name (inya tsatsul or just tsatsul, a derived adoption of the Burri iñazatsūya) still reflects a divine solar association (the Burri word means 'sun's thunder', the Wardi 'inya' invokes the sun, 'tsatsul' is an adapted loanword and has no meaning independent of the substance itself), though its priestly use is now predominantly associated with the firearm'ed Odonii (rather than priests of the solar Face Inyamache). The composition of gunpowder can no longer be regarded as a Secret by any means, though efforts to obscure the methods of its creation are still moderately successful and has kept knowledge of gunpowder manufacture more limited than the total sphere of firearm usage itself.

The actual strongest limiting factor of firearm usage is the rarity of natural saltpeter deposits necessary for making gunpowder. The practice of actively producing saltpeter via nitraries has not been developed anywhere in the setting, and all is instead obtained via natural sources. These sources are rare and limited within the current spread of firearm technology, and result in gunpowder being a limited and expensive substance to produce. The weapons themselves are also very expensive to manufacture (a good quality steel SWORD is far too material-cost prohibitive for most people to own), particularly high quality firearms designed for use with standardized ammunition.

These guns are also very basal, and logistical difficulties in their use (weight, very slow loading and firing speed, high visibility, Relatively low reach and accuracy) along with the restrictive cost of production has kept firearms far from rendering conventional weaponry, armor, and projectiles obsolete (even within the societies that have access to them). They are still, however, very devastating in use within their contemporary context, particularly in that high quality guns have a longer range than the best arrow-based projectiles, and utterly negate most contemporary forms of armor at close range.

[tallochar]

I keep turning this concept in my head but I can't manage to write it satisfactorily so here I am, setting it out in the wild:

Tim Drake being alerted that Batman INC is something that is in the planning stages of it happening (maybe by Lucius, maybe by Tam, who even knows, look he was CEO for a while and someone is worried about Bruce Wayne about to go public with Batman INC and they get in touch with him) and going to Bruce and refusing to let him do this.

Because Bruce is needed in Gotham and Batman is needed in Gotham, and while Dick is doing a great job and no one will convince Tim of the contrary, that's not Dick's job. It's Bruce's.

(Who also has a son who just got his father back and if anyone knows what it would mean for a son who lost their father to get that father back when you know it's not going to happen... well lets say Tim has Opinions about this [and while he might not get along with Damian all that well yet, they are in that neutral state where Damian is like a cat observing things and studying dynamics and Tim has always been able to work with people he doesn't like or even trust much, so he's not going to punish the kid over whatever's went down between them.])

And besides, let's be real here Bruce, if you want a Batman that can go around the world and pull together teams and make them cohesive and knows what it's needed to be a successful team of young / upcoming young heroes, that's way more Dick than you yourself. Would be preferrable if he was allowed to do it as Nightwing, but the point still stands.

Just ... Tim pow-wowing with Bruce over the whole sitch and convicing him to back down. Not abandon the project, Tim knows that will not happen no matter what Tim does, but trusting it to Dick, who is way better with both younger people and people skills in general than Bruce.

(Which actually is not meant to separate Damian from Dick, Dick can come in from one assignment to the next and check on Damian and this is not the time it was when Tim was growing up, they have communications all over the globe now, Dick can phonecall and videocall Damian as many times as he wants and check on him as often as he wishes, but if Batman INC is happening, and it will happen because Bruce has decided it will, then Tim can only do damage control over this)

And possibly Bruce leveraging Tim staying in Gotham (which, joke's on Bruce, Tim was going to do that anyway, but sure he'll "concede") and possibly "asking" (ordering, let's be real here) Tim to help train Damian (which Tim isn't enthusiastic about but fine, he'll make it work as long as Bruce has his back), for multiple reasons.

A bit because Bruce sort of feels guilty that Tim was kicked out of the Robin role (Bruce HAD promised it would be Tim's until Tim decided otherwise, [which I don't think Dick knew about and even if he had, the situation still had been what it was, to be fair to Dick]) but also Bruce doesn't quite know what to do with Damian (and it wouldn't be the first time he's trusted Tim to teach young heroes / guide someone in a vigilante role) and also he both wants Tim to be there with him (he's missed him) and needs him there with himself (Tim the emotional regulation parentified wonder!).

And then shenanigans from there.

[cinnabarts]

and some more drawings of how i imagine riding hounds. first is closer to a "wild type" of color/pattern (though i've since changed my mind on some of it) then there's the type dovara has and an albino variant

[autism-corner]

always glad to have my self-doubting be proved wrong =w=bb

[egg-emperor]

I love thinking so so so hard about Eggman and analyzing him so deeply it makes me feel so insane but you get a fun essay out of it in the end lol

[rodismancave]

. wanting 2 write stuff for bad ending rodimus but it scares me soooo bad

[beehtml]

been replaying RDR2 for like three weeks straight (and by “replaying” i mean i haven’t progressed into rhodes because it’s just me and my horse against the world and nothing can hurt me) and today i finally made myself read one (1) chapter of a new book before i turned on my ps4 and wow so crazy rediscovering i have other hobbies

[mothofmyth]

DC x DP

The Justice League summons the ghost king.

Unfortunately, the safest way JLD can find requires a host body to contain the being.

Obviously Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash are out - who knows what this being would do with a super-powered body. They have no idea how Captain Marvel or Green Lantern type magic would interact with the summoning, so not them either. They need Constantine and Zatanna to perform the ritual.

Basically it's down to the bats.

Batman tries to volunteer - better him than one of his kids if anything were to go wrong.

That gets vetoed. As do a lot of his offspring. The safest options (ie the least contaminated by magic, lazarus water, time shenanigans, and everything else) are Red Robin, Spoiler, and Nightwing.

Nightwing pulls rank.

After a lot of arguing, everyone at least agrees to tolerate the arrangement.

Nightwing removes every possible weapon from himself, allows himself to be tied to a chair in the middle of a summoning circle, and waits for JL Dark to complete the ritual.

It's not long before he feels a surge of cold burning through him.

He expected to be unconscious while the Ghost King took over. That's what Zatanna said had been reported the last time this ritual was performed many years ago.

They had all expected a lot of things.

Pariah Dark was supposed to be terrifying to behold - a massive, cruel, FURIOUS dictator who turned to violence at the smallest sleight.

This was... definitely not that.

Dick was present. He had no control over his body, but he could see and hear in an almost dream-like state. Foggy and indistinct, maybe a little warped, but definitely present.

He felt his heart rate and breathing pick up in panic even though he felt mostly calm (or at least no more anxious than he had been, waiting for an angry deity to possess his body and all). It was a strange sensation.

He felt the vibrations of his own voice as it left his throat, high and confused.

"Wha... Where..." It asked, warbling and afraid.

He felt his eyes blink and his limbs struggle against the bindings.

His head tilted down without his say so, and he looked at his own body as if through rippling water, warped lenses.

"I'm not..." His voice came out, still confused. Still afraid.

"Your Majesty?" Zatanna asked from beyond the limits of the circle.

His head whipped up, and he felt his neck click at the abrupt motion.

His breathing picked up again. Dick felt the ghost (pun not intended) of anxiety, like it was leaking from the other consciousness inhabiting his body.

"We mean you no harm. Our associate has agreed to lend you his body for the duration of this meeting." She continued.

Dick felt the king's anxiety again, stronger this time. Other emotions too, guilt, sorrow, anger, and a strange sort of pressing-tugging sensation.

Suddenly, Dick was back in control. He could still feel the king's consciousness, stronger now than before, but he could also move and speak freely.

"What just happened?" He mumbled, speaking to the ghost, not the audience of heroes.

"Nightwing?" Someone called from outside the circle, but he ignored them for the moment, feeling instead the consciousness inhabiting his body push back fear, guilt, and apology.

"Yeah, it's me. He's still in here, though." Dick frowned, trying to figure out how to interact with the being.

He heard a voice in the back of his mind. It sounded like him. It sounded different. It was younger than him. It was small and afraid. It was neutral and quiet and him. But it wasn't. It was speaking. It was silent. It was emotions and thoughts and nothing.

"Oooookay, this is really weird. I think we're communicating. I don't know how to talk back, but if he's in the same situation I was a minute ago he should be able to hear us just fine. Is that right?" Nightwing tried.

The 'voice' (he figured he'd call it a voice for now. He wasn't sure what else he could call it) responded in the affirmative. Like a hand outstretched, flipping up and down in a 'kinda' type of gesture. Like a nod and a hesitant smile. The feeling of victory by default.

Dick beamed.

"Okay yeah he can hear us." He announced for the benefit of their audience. "Why didn't you stay where you could speak? Wouldn't that have been easier?" He looked at his own chest, as if he could somehow find a way to see the presence inside of him.

Disgust. Guilt. Fear. An unexpected step at the bottom of a staircase. Falling off a pier into tempestuous water. A stranger pinning your hands above your head.

"Oh." Dick breathed. "Thank you, but I can handle it."

Guilt. Guilt. GUILT.

"Okay. It's alright. You can speak through me or we can manage like this." He soothed.

"Nightwing, report." Batman demanded.

"Uhh, right. I think he's trying to be courteous? To me, I mean. From what I can gather, he doesn't want to possess me or take over. He seems pretty repulsed by the idea, to be honest. I think he can see and hear and generally experience everything I'm experiencing, he's just more passenger than driver? I can feel him, and he's communicating, he just can't speak through me without taking my autonomy again, and he really doesn't want to do that." Dick explained, looking at the various states of thinly-veiled bewilderment across the faces of the heroes.

"Ask him if he's Pariah Dark, High King of the Infinite Realms, Ancient of Rage and Destructio-" Constantine begins, before Dick cuts him off

"I just said he can hear everything we're saying. Ask him yourself."

Constantine huffs. "You heard me, mate. Are you him?"

Denial. Contemplation. A battle. Single combat. A crown made of black thorns and green flames. A throne too big for he who sits in it. Victory. Desperation. Insufficiency. A question.

"I think..." Dick starts, trying to understand. "I think he's the King... but he's not Pariah Dark."

Agreement. Apology. Questioning.

"He wants to know if we're looking for Pariah Dark, or if we're looking for the High King of the Infinite Realms." He glances between Zatanna and Constantine, uncertain of the answer himself.

Constantine pales.

"Whatever is inside you defeated the ancient of Rage and Destruction in single combat, Nightwing. It's a powerful motherfucker, and a total unknown." He warns cautiously.

"Get him out of there, now. Send it back." Batman demands.

TERROR. Pleading. Unbearable suffering. Shiny metal dripping with green blood. The end of love. Unfathomable loss. Death without release. Unending torment. Begging.

"NO!" The voice tears its way out of Nightwing without his consent.

Cowering. Apology. Apology. Guilt. Apology.

Dick clears his throat. "I don't think he wants to leave."

"All the more reason to send it back." Batman growls.

"Don't." Dick protests. "I know it's a risk, and there's a chance it's manipulating me. But, something doesn't feel right about all of this."

"Ghosts are well known for their skills regarding manipulation, mind control, and emotion tampering." Zatanna cautions.

"According to those dehumanising rags maybe," Constantine scoffs.

"Every source we have-"

"Two sources, Love. Both of which have a bit of a vested interest, wouldn't you say?"

Fear. FEAR. Frustration. Heartbreak. An unheard voice in a crowded room. A layperson lecturing an expert. Mockery. A spectacle of suffering. Lies. Hurt. Fear.

"He agrees with Constantine." Dick pipes in.

Exasperation. Reluctance.

"I don't think he's too happy about it." He laughs.

"Of course he agrees with Constantine, he's giving him what he wants." Red Robin huffs.

"He's afraid." Dick's voice cuts through the argument and the heroes turn to look at him. "I don't know exactly what's happening, but he's terrified of being sent back."

Zatanna sighs. "Let's do what we came to do, and then maybe we'll talk about letting him out."

(Something goes wrong and Dick and Danny end up stuck like this for a while.

Dick moves back into Wayne Manor while they try to figure out how to remove Danny from Dick's body without hurting either of them.

Everybody starts referring to Phantom as Dick's little passenger.

Eventually they repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and find out all of the trauma Danny's been through via talking and dream/memory bleeding between him and Dick.

When Danny does finally manage to tumble out of Dick he is promptly adopted into the Batfam (what did anyone expect, he's a traumatised young teenager with black hair and blue eyes and barely any sense of self preservation).

In the meantime, however, Dick is happily going about his daily life with his little passenger, and Danny is still very traumatised but he's also contentedly curled up in Dick's chest, thrumming with happiness whenever Dick takes care of him.

Once or twice when Dick gets into Big Danger while vigilante-ing, Phantom forcibly takes over Dick's body to save him, using his ghost powers to fight the bad guy and escape the scenario. He cries afterwards because even though he needed to save Dick's life, he knows how terrifying and violating it feels to have someone else controlling your body (thanks Circus Gothica) and never wants to put anyone else through that.)

[kalashtars]

venting in the tags yippeee

[transssexualheart]

Does anyone happen to know of any good trans friendly doctors in Vermont ? I need a new primary and a gyno mostly and I just don’t feel comfortable with the office I’ve been going to anymore, especially now that I’m old enough to kind of need the gynecology aspect of it. Also if you live in Vermont can we kiss…. Lol jk. I know nobody even knows what Vermont is.

[honourablejester]

I’m watching bit compilations of the Fantasy High campaign(s) for Dimension 20 at the minute, and I’m watching one for Junior Year ep 16, and I love …

There’s a bit where some of Kipperlilly’s motivations for hating the party are revealed, and it’s revealed that she’s jealous that Riz’s father was killed, because she wants a cool and tragic backstory and thinks that her lack of it has kept her back at the adventuring academy while they had an advantage. And Siobhan, as Adaine, without batting an eye:

“And her response to that was to be mad at us, and not to kill her parents?”

To which the others respond … Okay, Adaine, that’s the sociopath test! And just general slightly spooked humour.

And I just love that … You can really see the girl who on her first day at school had a fight break out on top of her and wound up killing a lunch lady with a ladle. You can see the girl who did have to kill her abusive father after he casually murdered her sister. This is all coming from trauma, but she puts such a casual … Like, girl, get with the program on it. There’s such disdain for Kipperlilly whining about it instead of actually doing something.

I love that it is genuinely mostly a joke, she’s not seriously advocating for murder here, but it also does say quite a bit about Adaine. About her trauma and her pragmatism and her lingering perfectionism and her rather enforced nonchalance about the potential necessity of parent murder and her distinct attitude that if a problem presents itself, then you fix it, doing whatever you have to do in the process.

There’s just a sense that, you know, if Kipperlilly has decided to be evil and has decided that she’s fine with killing people, which we have proof she has, why is she not going with the logical solution to her problem? If you have decided that you’re fine with murdering people and that morality is no longer a stumbling block, why are you not doing the most efficient thing to solve your stated problem? If you’re going to be evil, be better at it.

Adaine would be an absolutely terrifying bad guy. And also probably needs more counselling.

[mb9990]

I have a fantasy of being recorded on video while being bred at a ranch, so that the video can be used for instructional purposes for those in the breeding industry…

I’m in a breeding stall, tightly restrained in a mating press position, knees bent back completely to my chest with a camera pointed right at my cunt. There’s a small crew present to film the breeding, and some handlers are there to offer instruction and steer the bull who will be used to inseminate me.

I have been tied up for around an hour while the crew talks amongst themselves and sets up the shot. Finding the perfect angle for the camera, moving the studio lights around, trying to find a good neutral appearance befitting of an instructional video. They talk about their day, what they want for lunch, what they’re going to do after work, all while standing around me, the breeding stock with her wet pussy completely vulnerable and on display.

I was reluctant to have my breeding recorded and being shown to thousands of people interested in entering the industry, but the contract I signed when I registered to be a breeder meant I didn’t have much of a choice. I try not to think about it as I wait for the crew to finish up.

Once it’s all set up, the handlers go to retrieve the bull. The camera switches on, and a handler walks to my side as he starts speaking to the camera.

“Here we have our breeding stock, already set up for insemination, as you can see. The mating press is a simple, easy breeding position that doesn’t require much set up. Just make sure to firmly restrain the legs and arms so that you retain the ideal angle for fertilization throughout the process. You may want to raise the buttocks slightly, as we’ve done here, to ensure the best chances of insemination.”

I shiver a bit at hearing it stated so calmly and matter-of-factly. The ideal angle for fertilization. Something about the straightforward presentation of it all made my pussy clench.

The bull enters the stall now, a muscular man with an unnaturally large cock (a result of the hormones given to increase virility) that is already mostly erect when he is led in. The handler continues as the camera pans towards him.

“And here we have the bull, already manually stimulated before being introduced to the breeder. Manual stimulation is not necessary, as the bull’s body will naturally produce an erection once exposed to ovulating breeding stock. But manual stimulation can help streamline the process.”

The bull is already pushing against his handlers when he realizes I’m in the room, but they hold onto him tightly. Seeing the large cock that was soon going to be buried deep inside of me lifted some of my nervousness. My cunt starts to swell with arousal, and I’m distracted enough not to be embarrassed by the trail of lubricant I can feel already leaking down my ass crack. In anticipation, I squirm and try to buck against my restraints, but I’m locked in way too firmly to do anything but wiggle slightly.

“As you can see, the stock is ready for the bull as well. Poor girl is eager to get started, so let’s not keep her waiting…”

The bull was lead over, his monstrous cock now leaking precum and throbbing as it bobbed closer and closer to me. Trepidation turned into a sick sort of thrill as he approached, knowing that whether or not I was prepared for it, in just a few moments I was going to be bred on camera in front of a crew of strangers… but the handler had to interject once more.

“This is the easy part: let the bull do his thing. Try not to interrupt once it’s started, as the bull will get aggressive if you try to intervene in a breeding.”

The bull is finally released, mounting me immediately and possessively burying his cock in my fertile cunt. I tried not to, but an audible whimper of submission was pushed out of me as his first thrust sent his thick, veiny shaft sliding comfortably all the way to the base. I could see the camera crew moving around, adjusting the camera so that no detail of my claiming would remain uncaptured.

With his shaft fully hilted within me, and the sound of a camera slightly shifting focus, it hit me fully. I was really being bred, impregnated for an educational video. Thousands of people were going to watch this, my breeding, the claiming of my pussy by a bull, for many years to come. My pussy tensed involuntarily in perverse pleasure.

The bull shifted his hips around, trying to find the right angle, his thick shaft tilting around in the cunt he was going to thoroughly mark as his own. He had been struggling against the handlers, but as soon as he was able to dock himself inside of me he slowed down. He almost leisurely explored his property, grinding his shaft deeper and testing what felt best. For this moment, I was nothing but a warm, tight hole built for receiving his cum, and he was going to treat me as such.

I once again tried to leverage my body to achieve some friction, feeling terribly teased from an almost unmoving, throbbing shaft filling me and pressing up against my cervix. My shifting causes the bull to emphasize my complete submission, placing a firm hand down on my thigh to truly prevent me from moving. I can’t help but release another whimpering moan to be recorded for all to hear.

But that wasn’t the only sound for long. The bull suddenly raises his hips, his shaft glistening with my wetness, pulling out until just the glans is left inside of me and...

Plap.

The first real thrust slams down into me, the entire length of his cock and balls making a creamy slap as he slams all of his length into me. It knocks another whimper out of me. His hips raise again, his long, confident strokes seemingly signaling to all around that this was his breeder, and no one could take that away from him.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

He never pulled all the way out, always stopping right when the thick crown of the glans was just about to pop out again, before he’d claim his property once more. As with all bulls, there was no hope he would be doing anything but cumming deep, deep inside of you, leaving you full to the brim with as many babies as you could hold.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

His thrusts came faster and faster, almost mechanical in precision as he held me in place and used my hole as his warm, living fleshlight. I try to shift in angle, squirm, anything, but I knew this was going to happen on his terms. I moaned in perverse pleasure as I imagined what I looked like on camera, just a close view of my pussy and ass pointed at the sky as I’m used as a personal bull fuck toy. My cunt stretching wide to accept his girth, my ass jiggling as I’m made to take his pounding thrusts over and over again. I could hear the sound of my cunt, an embarrassingly loud, wet squelching that the camera was sure to record in detail. It was highlighted by the now rhythmic whines he was pounding out of me as I lost the control to stop myself. The thrusts start coming fast and firm as he prepared to fill me with babies…

Plap.

—Ah—

Plap.

—Ah—

Plap.

—Ah-h—

The camera crew was transfixed as the bull impales me with finality, warm balls pressed tight against my taint. I loll my head back, eyes unfocused, and slur out the only words I had said all day.

“Breed me— please— fill me with babies— ahh—“

I cum as his scrotum tenses, the first of many firm jets of cum planted deep inside of me. His hand presses me down firmly as I jerk and shudder from the orgasm, keeping me securely in place as he slowly pumps me with pulse after pulse of heavy, warm seed. The video captures every intimate detail of the insemination: the subtle movement of his balls emptying into me, the goosebumps on my asscheeks as I feel my womb slowly filling and ballooning with each thick pump, and the sound of the bull quietly huffing as he stays firmly hilted into me, to make sure the job is done.

The voice of the handler rings loud in the quiet, walking to the side of our joined bodies.

“The bull will want to remain locked like this for some time, it helps ensure pregnancy is achieved. Do not interrupt this process, he will dismount when he is ready.”

I feel the building pressure in my womb come to a stop as his pumps got smaller and smaller. I go limp as the orgasm leaves my body, and I try to relax into the feeling of being plugged tight. As he holds me down for another minute, I can’t help but think about how during these slow moments of film his seed was actively fertilizing me on camera: this was the exact moment of my impregnation.

After a minute or two, bull had started to soften within me, and suddenly his weight was gone as he pulled out his semi-erect, leaking cock. I felt the pressure lessen slightly in my womb as a thick bubble of excess cum pushes its way out of my cunt.

The exhausted bull was led out of the stall as the camera panned once again to the handler.

“As you can probably tell,” he chuckles, “it’s very unlikely that the breeding stock will be left unfertilized after a properly coordinated breeding session. But to assure a 100% chance of success, it is recommended to leave the breeder in the mating position for another hour or two.”

The camera pans back to me again, capturing my restrained body, gaping pussy still slowly bubbling cum, stomach bulging from my filled womb. The camera pans away as he enthusiastically reads the final lines of the script.

“Once you’re done with this final precaution: congratulations! You will have successfully bred your stock. Of course, this is only the first step, as the pregnancy will be a lengthy process, and you’ll want to be prepared beforehand in order to ensure the offspring will be properly nurtured throughout. We will be returning to this breeder over the coming months to record the pregnancy process for you all, and provide you with all the knowledge you’ll need to ensure large, healthy offspring. Thanks for watching the first installment: we’ll see you back here in a few months!”

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 5

paige x azzi

word count: 9.3k

a/n: i’ve probably been slowly writing this chapter over the course of a few days because i randomly wrote here and there on vacation. may have also been a little drunk when writing some of it so bare with me ✨. i think people will like this chapter tho. as always leave any reactions/ thoughts or comments that you can!! thank you for reading.

—————————————————————————

It had been about two weeks since the fight, and Paige was finally starting to feel like herself again…Ish. The swelling and cuts were mostly gone and the bruises on her side faded into yellowish marks. The relentless throbbing in her temples had eased a few days and now that she wasn’t grimacing every two seconds or wincing just from opening her eyes, the quiet anger she’d been too sore to entertain was beginning to bubble back up.

With the physical pain not being able to dull her thoughts or distract her anymore the humiliation she seemed to feel was sharper and it pissed her off.

She tried to watch the fight back a few times on different devices. Once with her phone propped up in her room, another in the living room with her remote in hand. Each time her heart started to beat faster every second she watched it and ultimately each attempt ended the same: disgust curling in her gut by the second round, mumbling “What the fuck was that?” to herself before turning it off. She hadn’t made it through the whole thing once yet.

Trying to subside her agitation she spent the last few days in the gym. Even though her body still wasn’t at a hundred percent she couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t let herself marinate in her version of a loss or the thoughts swirling around in her head about the fight. So she kept herself moving. She shadowboxed, hit some of the lighter bags. But seeing herself in the mirror was less forgiving than the fight footage.

She just felt stuck. Agitated. Claustrophobic in her own skin. So she did what any semi-sane person with too much money and not enough distractions would do; made plans to get the hell out of town.

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen for a moment before she typed a text:

Paige [10:47 AM]:

about that date

A few minutes passed before Azzi replied.

Azzi [10:54 AM]:

What about it?

Paige looked at the screen for a second with her thumbs hovering over the screen.

Paige [10:55 AM]:

i wanna take you on one

Azzi’s reply came back faster this time.

Azzi [10:56AM]:

Oh?

Tell me more

Paige smirked at her phone a little, pulling one knee up as she thought through how to present what she wanted to ask.

Paige [10:56 AM]:

you have a few days off before playoffs start right?

Azzi [10:57 AM]:

Yeah. Why?

Paige [10:57 AM]:

how you feel about leaving the state for a first date?

There was a longer pause than before. Then Azzi responded in the way Paige figured she would.

Azzi [10:59 AM]:

Excuse me?

You sure you aren’t still concussed?

Paige [11:00 AM]:

i’m sure

There was a short pause, then another message popped up.

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Where are we going and for how long?

Paige [11:01 AM]:

pack a bag for two days

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Okay…what am I packing?

Paige [11:03AM]:

something comfortable, swimsuits, clothes for an actual date

Azzi [11:03 AM]:

Ohh, so leaving the state isn’t the actual date?

Got it

Paige [11:04AM]:

no

i’m not a bum

Azzi [11:05AM]:

I don’t think a bum would take me to a different state under the guise of a first date so no worries

Paige [11:05AM]:

text me when you’re ready

The conversation ended after that.

…

The next thing Azzi knew she was back on a plane. It was the same private plane she’d taken to Paige’s fight a couple of weeks ago but this time, it was just the two of them on it.

The hum of the jet was steady and the cabin was dim. Paige was slouched comfortably in a Essentials sweatsuit with her hood up and her legs stretched out. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of the joggers.

“You got a deal with Essentials or you just hoard every color?”

Paige turned her head towards Azzi, chuckling a little. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Gotta be cozy to keep secrets?”

Paige raised one of her eyebrows. “What secret?”

Azzi leaned forward putting her chin in her palm. “You know what secret. Where are we going, Narnia?”

Paige chuckled letting out a groan as she stretched, crossing her ankles when she was done. “Somewhere.”

“Oh wow,” Azzi said, completely deadpan. “Thanks, that really clears it up. You’re so generous.”

“I try.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Is it tropical?”

“Do we have tropical states?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

Paige grinned a little wider this time. “Bringin’ out the government name now?”

“I always do when I’m not getting what I want,” Azzi said. “And you’re keeping secrets.”

“I’m taking you on a date. Not smuggling you. Just relax.”

Azzi leaned back and Paige thought she finally gave up until she said, “So…is there a lot of sun?”

Paige didn’t answer.

“Water?”

Paige still didn’t answer so Azzi pouted. There was a short pause as Paige just looked at her. Then she sighed and said, “Maybe.”

“You suck.”

Paige shrugged. “You’ll like it.”

“I better. I packed a red bikini.”

Paige’s eyes flicked over to her hearing that. “You tryna threaten me or reward me? M’gettin mixed signals with that statement.”

Azzi grinned. “Depends on how fast you tell me where we’re going.”

Paige stared at her for a moment considering just telling her to end the interrogation but then she just let her head fall back against the seat. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi huffed and decided to leave it alone for now.

For the rest of the plane ride neither of them said much. There was just the sound of the engines. Eventually, Paige closed her eyes again and the tension from earlier slowly drained from her shoulders.

Azzi glanced over and watched her for some time before pulling out her phone and settling into her seat. While Paige slipped into sleep, Azzi worked on a few things she was planning to do before she was met with an impromptu trip. When she was done she sent a quick message to her group chat.

Azzi [4:13 PM]:

Don’t bother me unless someone dies

She glanced over again, catching Paige’s hoodie rising and falling and smiled to herself before turning her screen brightness down and putting her phone away deciding to get some sleep herself.

When the plane touched down, the sky was a muted gray that stretched over the open land. It wasn’t freezing, but it was colder than what Azzi expected after being told to bring a swimsuit. Cool enough to make her grateful when Paige pulled her hoodie over her head and handed it to her.

The drive from the airport had long stretches of trees and winding back roads that offered a silence and the kind of stillness you couldn’t find in the city. Eventually, the car rolled into a gravel driveway that opened to a wide clearing.

Azzi stepped out of the car first, her shoes crunching against the stones. “Okay…this is definitely not what I expected.”

Paige led her toward the entrance, carrying both of their bags like it was second nature. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely not bad.”

Just beyond the tree-lined driveway was a more modern cabin. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a glassy lake. The water stretched endlessly and was framed by trees that swayed gently in with the breeze; some starting to lose their leaves. The cabin itself had high wood-beamed ceilings, an open layout on the first floor, soft light coming from the large windows. When they stepped through the front door, it smelled like cedar and fresh linen, like someone was doing laundry earlier in the day and it was warm from pre-set heat.

Azzi’s eyes wandered past the living room, through the back windows. She saw a hot tub on the deck overlooking the lake and just below that, an infinity pool with a perfect view of the water beyond the cabin.

She blinked at Paige in confusion despite how impressed she was. “Where are we?”

“Minnesota,” Paige answered plainly, dropping the bags by the stairs.

Azzi gave her a look. “Yes, thank you captain obvious. I meant here.”

“Family cabin,” she said, laughing a little. “It was one of the first things I bought cause it helps me stay connected to home.”

Azzi looked around again, this time a little slower with the new information. Everything about the layout felt purposeful. It was warm, quiet, had touches of Paige’s personal life tucked into each corner. “So this is like a special place?”

Paige gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess so.”

Azzi folded her arms, her eyes sweeping across the cabin one more time before looking back at Paige. “Kinda crazy for a first date.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Paige mumbled. “Just didn’t want you thinking I was a sore loser who couldn’t follow through on a bet before I left LA.”

Azzi scoffed, walking slowly toward the windows. “Righttt. So you text me on a Thursday morning, tell me to pack a bag, fly me halfway across the country…to your family’s cabin...just to settle a bet?”

Paige looked at her for a moment, Her expression giving nothing away. Then, without answering, she chuckled a little and moved toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” she said over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite her best effort. “Unbelievable.”

Paige’s voice floated back. “I got wine. All the wine you could think of probably. Tequila, beer, some tea I think.”

Azzi trailed into the kitchen. “Wine is fine.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You got a preference?”

Azzi leaned her hip against the counter. “Surprise me like you’ve been doing all day.”

Paige shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she reached for a bottle of Chardonnay. “You’re annoying.”

“You’ll grow to love it.”

Paige didn’t respond, just pulled two glasses down from the cabinet. The soft clink of glass echoed slightly in the kitchen as she sat them on the counter. She uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into both glasses.

Azzi watched her do all of this, still half in disbelief that this was real. Paige handing her a glass of wine. In Minnesota. At her family’s cabin that she willingly .

“So…” Azzi said, raising her glass a little. “To first dates that start with mystery texts and end in the woods…?”

Paige tapped her glass lightly against Azzi’s. “Don’t make it weird.”

Azzi grinned saying, “Too late,” before taking a sip of the Chardonnay.

After a sip of her drink, Paige nodded toward the rest of the house. “Come on, I’ll show you around before it gets too dark.”

Azzi followed her through the cabin, their footsteps being heard against the wooden floors. The place was new but somehow gave off a rustic vibe with its vaulted ceilings and thick wooden beams. Paige moved through the house without thinking much, clearly familiar with the space.

They passed the open kitchen and a den before Paige led Azzi up the stairs and down a hallway. “Couple bedrooms down here. This one’s mine,” she said, tapping on the door. “You can pick whichever room…or you know, whatever.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, pausing with her wine glass mid-sip. “Whatever?”

Paige cleared her throat. “Just pick a room.”

Azzi smirked. “Mmm, okay.”

Paige didn’t take the bait, just turned and kept walking, opening another door and motioning lazily. “Bathroom’s here. There’s another one in one of the guest rooms and there’s one downstairs too. Shower sucks in that one for some reason though.”

They kept walking through the cabin, the comfort between them a little easier than any other time they’ve been together. Azzi brushed her hand along a wooden railing, admiring the space as they walked. “You’re definitely looking less wincey than last week when I saw you.”

Paige chuckled at the word. “I’m still sore in the mornings,” she admitted. “But my head doesn’t feel like shit anymore, so...progress.”

Azzi nodded. “That’s good.”

Paige glanced back at her. “You good?”

Azzi shrugged one shoulder. “Just trying to stay in game shape. First round’s in a few days. Should be easy though.”

Paige gave her a look. “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Azzi held up her free hand. “Alright, knock on wood.”

They stepped onto the back deck, the cool air wrapping around them. The lake was beautiful up close. String lights were wrapped around the wooden beams and they twinkled overhead, casting a hue across the deck.

Paige gestured with her glass. “Not bad, right?”

Azzi gave a small smile. “Not bad at all.”

Paige leaned on the railing next to her, the moment stretching just enough as Azzi looked out towards the lake before Paige said, “Come on. One more thing.”

She led Azzi down a set of steps and around the side of the cabin to a small building tucked against the tree line. She pushed open the door and flipped on the lights to reveal another fully-equipped home gym. Punching bags, racks, mirrors, everything Paige needed to get through a workout. It was simpler than her one back in LA, but it was clearly still made custom to what Paige needed.

Azzi smiled a little. “Okay, so this is probably where you’d disappear to if you decided to ghost for a few days.”

Paige grinned. “I had it added last year. I needed somewhere quiet to train without being bothered all the time.”

Azzi walked in fully, her eyes scanning the space. “It’s very you.”

Paige smirked. “Is that a compliment?”

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Depends. You gonna train on our date?”

Paige tilted her head. “Mmm. Depends on if you’ll join me.”

Azzi laughed, walking back toward her. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time they made it back into the main cabin, the sun had dipped lower and it cast shadows through the trees and turned the lake a deep slate-blue color. Paige kicked off her shoes by the door and moved around the kitchen casually, topping off both their wine glasses before sliding one toward Azzi.

Azzi took hers with a quiet “thanks,” sipping as she leaned against the counter. Azzi didn’t even last five minutes before her eyes drifted toward the stairs that led back out to the gym. “I actually kinda wanna workout now.”

Paige raised an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “Of course you do.”

Azzi smiled. “Only today though, tomorrow I won’t touch the gym if you don’t want me to.”

Paige gave a small grin, setting her glass down. “Alright. I’ll change.”

It didn’t take long for both of them to change and meet in the gym. Azzi had pulled her hair into a bun, already thinking about what she was going to do as she scrolled through her playlists and laid out some resistance bands. Paige was moving more slowly, stretching out her shoulder before wrapping her hands and putting on gloves before moving toward the heavy bag.

The space filled with the music from Azzi’s phone that she connected to the gym speaker. Azzi moved through a circuit. Some jump rope to start and warm herself up. She barely seemed to notice the time as she zoned into her workout.

Meanwhile, Paige worked the bag with a slower rhythm, testing her body, finding where the soreness still lingered and where it didn’t.

“Your form’s terrible today,” Azzi teased mid-lunge.

Paige laughed a little. “Thanks, coach.”

They shared a small grin before both of them returned to their workouts.

The whole workout passed like that. There was light conversation here and there, a comment tossed between sets, a playful insult when one of them slowed down. But mostly, they worked in tandem, both of them comfortable in the silence as they worked on their craft. It was the kind of peace only two athletes could understand as they both let the world fall away in a home gym in Minnesota.

Azzi slowed down eventually, her last round of the circuit tapering into stretches as her focus drifted across the gym. Paige was still at the bag, each of her hits landing cleaner than they were when she first started.

Azzi leaned back on her palms, letting her breathing settle as she watched.

There was something almost hypnotic about watching her. Paige’s shoulder blades were flexing underneath her sports bra and the controlled rotation of her core was visible as she pivoted through each punch. Her arms were glistening and every once in a while she exhaled just loud enough for Azzi to bring her attention back to her. Sweat slid down her neck and traced the lines of her back beneath the fabric of her bra.

Azzi found herself staring for who knows how long. Eventually she stepped back from the bag for a moment to shake out her arms, and her eyes drifted over and she caught Azzi watching and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna try?”

Azzi blinked out of her daze, a little caught off guard. “Me?”

Paige nodded, already walking toward the shelf where she kept extra gloves and wraps. “Unless you’re just gonna sit there drooling.”

Azzi scoffed. “I was not staring.”

Paige didn’t even turn around. “Right.”

Azzi stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I’ve never even thrown a punch.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You probably couldn’t have a better teacher then princess.”

Azzi hesitated, rolling her lips together. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Paige turned around holding wrap and gloves. “Scout’s honor.”

Azzi eyed her, skeptically. “I’m almost 100% sure you were never a scout.”

Paige shrugged. “Still counts.”

That earned a reluctant smile from Azzi as she walked over. “Alright. Let’s see what the hype’s about.”

Paige gestured for her to sit on the bench while she knelt in front of her. “Left hand first.”

Azzi held it out and watched silently as Paige began wrapping her hand. Her fingers were warm as she worked the wrap around Azzi’s hand and despite the teasing, Paige’s touch was careful, almost gentle, as she checked for tightness and comfort as she went.

“You nervous?” Paige said without looking up.

Azzi tilted her head. “Little bit.”

Paige glanced up with a faint grin. “Don’t be. I’ll go easy on you.”

Azzi just smiled at that as Paige continued to wrap Azzi’s hands. When she was done she slid the gloves on for her, tightening the straps just enough to be snug but comfortable. Once she was done, she sat back lifting her eyes.

“Good?”

Azzi nodded, holding her hands up awkwardly.

Paige smiled at her, rising to her feet. “Alright. Over here.”

She nodded toward one of the lighter bags, and Azzi followed her even though her movements were a bit hesitant. Paige motioned for her to square up when she got in front of the bag.

“Ight put your feet about shoulder-width apart,” she said, circling behind her. “Back foot slightly turned out. Yeah—like that.”

Azzi adjusted, and Paige stepped closer.

“Bring your hands up,” Paige said, tapping gently beneath Azzi’s elbows. “Higher. To protect your face.”

Azzi tried and her form was stiff. Paige chuckled under her breath before reaching out to nudge her arms into place.

“Here relax your shoulders,” she said, fingertips brushing over Azzi’s shoulder blades as she softened the tension there. “You’re not about to fight a bear. It’s just a bag, it won’t hit you back.”

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh. “Feels like I’m bracing for war.”

Paige moved around to Azzi’s side, resting her palm lightly on her lower back. “You’re a hooper. You know how to move your body. Think of this as new muscle memory.”

Azzi gave her a sideways look. “Didn’t know you were gonna whisper sweet encouragements in my ear.”

Paige ignored Azzi trying to flirt but her mouth twitched. “You want to learn or not?”

Azzi smirked. “I’m listening, coach.”

Paige rolled her eyes but stayed close. “Throw a light jab with your dominant hand. Just test it out.”

Azzi did, and the glove landed against the bag with a gentle thud. Paige nodded. “Not bad. Do it again.”

Azzi reset her stance and this time it looked like she had a little more confidence as she threw another jab. The sound of her glove against the bag was harder, but Paige tilted her head slightly, trying to figure out the best advice to give her.

“You’re not bad,” Paige said, stepping in. “You’re throwing with just your arm though. You gotta turn into it. Use your hips, your shoulders. The power’s not going to be in the punch itself, it’s in the movement.”

Azzi gave her a confused look over her shoulder. “What does that even mean Paige?”

Paige sighed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “C’mere.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige was behind her with one of her hands resting gently on Azzi’s hip, the other on her upper arm.

“Alright,” Paige mumbled, her voice suddenly much closer to Azzi’s ear. “When you go to jab, turn this,” she said, nudging Azzi’s hip lightly, “just a little, like this.” She moved with her, guiding her body through the motion. Her chest brushed against Azzi’s back, and the space between them all but disappeared as Paige tried to show her what to do. Azzi blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the rhythm of Paige’s breath behind her, the weight of her hands, how still everything else felt.

Paige didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her voice stayed even the entire time. “See? It’s not a huge movement. You just need enough rotation to transfer your weight. That’s where the power comes from.”

Azzi nodded, but it was distracted. “Uh-huh. Got it,” she mumbled, even though it clearly sounded a little dazed.

Paige paused just long enough to notice, her eyes moving towards Azzi’s face. “You good, or did I break you or something?”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good. It’s just the unsolicited back hugs. Kinda distracting.”

Paige grinned, stepping back slightly to give her space. “Focus.”

Azzi turned her head, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s over her shoulder. “I’m trying.”

There was a lingering look between them. Then Paige nodded toward the bag again.

“Show me.”

Azzi threw a few more punches with her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. The impact on the bag wasn’t perfect, but it was getting cleaner. Paige stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching her the entire time.

“Better,” she said, nodding. “But drop your shoulder a little—yeah, right there. Keep your chin tucked too. You’re not tryin’ to get hit if this was a real person remember?”

Azzi exhaled, adjusting, then threw a few more punches. She pulled back, glancing at Paige, searching for her expression.

Paige raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I don’t know. I might need to get you in the cage soon.”

Azzi laughed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Relax. I just figured out how to throw a punch.”

Paige walked closer to her. “Mmhm. I can’t tell, definitely got me feeling some typa way.”

Azzi blinked. “Excuse me?”

Before she could say more, Paige was behind her again, her hand gently skimming down Azzi’s arm under the guise of adjusting the position of her glove.

“I’m just saying,” Paige said, her mouth unironically warm by Azzi’s ear. “Feels like you doing some of this on purpose. Like you know somebody watching or somethin.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat a little bit, from the words, how Paige’s fingers lingered and from the slight press of her body into Azzi's again.

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, her smirk returning once she gathered herself. “And are you?”

Paige’s lips quirked as she squinted her eyes at Azzi a little. “Always.” Then she stepped away again, nodding toward the bag like she hadn’t just said what she said. “Alright, again.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling as she squared up again. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige just shrugged. “Little bit.”

Azzi threw a few more punches and the sound of the gloves hitting the bag echoed through the gym, more rhythmic and steady this time around. Paige leaned against the wall that was nearby watching her closely.

“You’re still kinda stiff. Relax your shoulders.” She stepped forward, her hand grazing Azzi’s bicep before sliding down to adjust her elbow. “And bend just a little more in your knees.”

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to touch me?”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Azzi faltered again for half a second before she looked away, resetting her stance with a soft laugh. Paige smiled to herself, stepping back behind her.

“Okay, try it again.”

Azzi did and this time she got more hits in before Paige spoke up.

“You wanna remember to keep this hand a little higher, protect your face, remember?” Paige said.

“Feels like I should be paying you for this lesson.”

Paige chuckled. “Nah, first one’s free.”

Azzi shifted into the motion, punching the bag again, this time with a little more power. The sound made Paige nod in approval.

“There she is,” Paige murmured.

Azzi turned her head, catching Paige’s eye over her shoulder. “Guess it just depends on the coach.”

Paige smiled. “Good answer.”

They held eye contact before Paige stepped back, giving Azzi her space again. “Alright, again. Let’s see if the muscle memory sticks.”

They stayed in the gym for maybe thirty more minutes, the time passing without either of them really noticing. Paige kept her word. No laughing the entire time, not even when Azzi’s punch slipped a little and sent her stumbling forward into the bag. She caught herself, mumbling something under her breath, but Paige just walked over, nodding like it was no big deal.

“Keep your weight a little more balanced,” she said, crouching slightly to tap at Azzi’s back foot with her own. “You’re leaning too far forward.”

Azzi reset, adjusted, and went again, and with the slight adjustment her movements were cleaner. Paige watched her with a glint of quiet pride in her eyes, offering occasional comments. “Better…Don’t forget your guard…There you go. That one felt good, huh?”

Of course, it wasn’t all business. Azzi couldn’t help but toss a few comments in, especially when Paige came behind her again to adjust something miniscule. “You sure this is standard coaching?” Paige just hid her smile and said, “Nah this for special clients.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at Paige’s tone, but kept swinging.

By the time they wrapped up, both of them were a little flushed, sweaty, and grinning slightly for completely different reasons. Paige pulled off Azzi’s gloves for her and unwrapped her hands while Azzi stretched out her arms, exhaling hard.

“Okay, I get why you’re so into this now,” Azzi said, redoing her bun that had fallen a little too much. “Kinda makes you feel like a badass.”

Paige gave her a quiet laugh. “Told you.”

“You were right.”

“I usually am.”

Azzi nudged her. “Don’t push it.”

Paige smirked but didn’t say anything back. They lingered in silence while Paige finished unwrapping Azzi’s hands.

When she was done Azzi asked, “Hot tub now?”

Paige wiped the sweat off of her face with a towel. “Thought you’d never ask. Lemme hop in the shower first tho.”

Azzi took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe her muscles after the impromptu workout. By the time she made her way back into the living room, her hair was damp on the ends and pulled into another loose bun. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen, where she saw Paige at the counter with her head bowed slightly.

Azzi tilted her head. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Paige glanced up, the flicker of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Occasionally.”

Azzi hummed, leaning on the counter with her elbows, watching her break the buds into the paper. “What’s occasionally? Like, once a week? After every workout? Only when you drag someone across the country?”

Paige chuckled under her breath, her eyes going back to her hands. “More like...when I feel like I earned it. So…rare.”

Azzi smirked, but her eyes were trained on Paige’s lips and the way they parted slightly as she rolled. Her tongue flicked to wet the paper and Azzi caught herself staring. Everything Paige was doing was slow and perfectly in place. Too slow, maybe, because Azzi’s brain had gone a little quiet as she watched.

“You smoke?” Paige asked without looking up.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She was still watching, a little dazed as Paige’s mouth twisted and sealed the end.

“Azzi.”

The way Paige said her name snapped her out of it.

“Huh? Oh.” Azzi blinked quickly, standing up straighter. “What?”

Paige exhaled slowly, moving her eyes up to meet Azzi’s. “I said, do you smoke?”

Azzi cleared her throat, trying to act casual. “Not often, no. But...I mean, I could be convinced.”

Paige let out a laugh, moving her eyes back to the j. “We’ll see,” she said before flicking the lighter against the paper to finish sealing it. She held it up like a promise, then stood and nodded toward the patio doors. “Come on.”

Azzi grabbed the nearly-finished bottle of wine from the fridge and two more glasses from the cabinet, before she followed Paige outside. The sliding glass door opened with a soft creak, letting in the cool bite of a September night in Minnesota. It wasn’t frigid yet but the air was crisp enough to make the steam rising from the bubbling jacuzzi seem like a heavenly invitation.

Paige stepped in first, letting out a long exhale as the heat traced up her skin. She sank back against the edge, spread her arms to the side, and tilted her head just slightly to take it all in. Her hoodie and sweats were gone now, replaced by a black bikini top that contrasted against the paleness of her skin. Strands of her blonde hair curling slightly at the ends as they touched the water.

Azzi set the wine and glasses down with a clink on the edge of the jacuzzi, her fingers brushing her thigh as she stepped up onto the jacuzzi’s edge. She caught the way Paige’s blue eyes followed her unashamed. She didn’t look away once, even as Azzi sank into the water across from her, letting the heat settle over her skin.

For a moment, Paige watched her. Not saying much of anything. Once again like she was trying to figure Azzi out, or like she had already figured Azzi out and was trying to figure out what to do with the information.

Azzi raised her eyebrow after a while of Paige just staring and not saying anything, a soft smile on her lips as she said, “Good?”

Paige gave her a subtle nod, her jaw ticking slightly as the steam curled around her face. The warmth from the porch lights reflected in her blue eyes making them look even softer than usual, but her expression stayed unreadable.

Azzi tilted her head, still smiling out of shyness a little, “What’re you looking at?”

“You.”

Azzi let out a soft, “hm” at that, before she turned to pour the wine to distract herself from the light butterflies in her stomach. Her smile lingered as she reached for the bottle, but her eyes drifted back once, just quick enough to catch Paige lighting the blunt, her lips pulling from it effortlessly like she’d done it hundreds of times before. The faint glow from the cherry lit up the sharp lines of her face. She leaned back slightly, tipping her head to the stars as the smoke curled up from her lips.

It was honestly unfair how good she looked all the time. It was in the kind of way Azzi had no defense against. Like the brown haired girl wasn’t used to being this attracted to a person, let alone for such an extended period of time.

Paige took another pull then glanced back over, catching Azzi watching her again. “You just gonna stare or…?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, handing her a glass of wine before accepting the blunt Paige was oddering. She took it, her fingers brushing Paige’s just slightly in the process. “Getting me crossed on the first date?” she teased as she brought it to her lips.

Paige chuckled, her eyes already becoming a little low. “This isn’t the date.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, inhaling again before passing it back. “No?”

“Nah,” Paige said. “Promise I’mma take you on one tomorrow, though. Don’t trip.”

Azzi leaned back with her wine glass in hand. “Who said I’m tripping?”

Paige laughed again, taking a second pull before passing it back. “Just a phrase, princess.”

The whir of the jacuzzi filled the silence of the night air, bubbles breaking the surface in gentle bursts. A cool breeze swept in from the lake, but the warm water countered the chill, steam rising in tendrils into the air. The light blue glow of the jacuzzi lights gave everything a softer hue.

Paige leaned back, stretching her arms along the ledge behind her. Blue eyes were half-lidded as she watched the way Azzi brought the blunt to her lips.

“You roll good,” Azzi murmured as she exhaled before she passed it back.

Paige grinned. “What, you thought I was gonna be bad at this too?”

Azzi smiled, swirling her condensation wine glass. “Nah. I’m just surprised you’re not more of a control freak about how I’m pulling it.”

“I’m healing,” Paige said dryly, taking a hit. The smoke curled up around her face, catching in the blue light, softening her features.

Azzi watched her a second before reaching for the joint again to distract herself. “You ever bring anyone else here?”

Paige shook her head, eyes still on her. “Outside of my family? Nope. Just you.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, lifting the glass to her lips to hide the involuntary smile that was growing. “Hm. Should I feel special or concerned at how easy it was to get you to invite me here?”

“Both,” Paige said with a crooked smile as she took a long pull. “Balance, right?”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm. Smoke, sip, tease, repeat. Their conversations drifted from music to movies to random memories, the kind of stuff that didn’t need full context to laugh at. The night stretched on intimately as the warm water wrapped around them in contrast to the sky above that was wide open.

When the blunt burned down to the end, the last of its embers dimmed as Azzi flicked it into the nearby ashtray Paige had set on the edge. She let her head fall back as her eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of trees surrounding the cabin, the sky above streaked with stars she could never see in the city. The moment was peaceful in a way she wasn’t used to. There was nothing urgent tonight, nothing loud. Just a simple calmness in a Minnesota cabin with a blonde girl who somehow made her mind calm and chaotic at the same time.

Across from her, Paige looked like she belonged in this kind of silence. Her head was tilted back too, her eyes closed, arms stretched casually over the ledge behind her, her expression looked relaxed and her skin glistened with the mix of steam, wine and whatever haze lingered between them.

Azzi's gaze lingered on her. She took in the slope of her jaw, the flutter of her long lashes, the relaxed set of her usually clenched mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she stared before she finally said, quietly, “Paige.”

Without opening her eyes, Paige replied, “Hm?”

Azzi hesitated, exhaling softly through her nose. She didn’t want a half-aware hum. She wanted her attention more than usual. So she pushed herself up and moved slowly through the water until she was in front of her.

The movement caused ripples that lapped at Paige’s skin. Azzi stood in front of her, directly in front of one of the lights that cast a glow across her curves. “Look at me,” she said.

Paige’s eyes slowly opened. They were rimmed in red from the wine and the weed, as she processed how close Azzi was. Her gaze swept over Azzi’s long curls, some of them damp as they framing her face. She looked at the water glistening on her collarbone, the way the wet red bikini clung to her skin, the quiet confidence in the way she stood directly in front of her. This was probably the longest Paige had ever looked at Azzi and she shamelessly let her eyes travel across every portion of the girl in front of her.

Azzi tilted her head, catching the weight of the look in Paige’s eye. “Why you looking at me like that?”

Paige’s lips twitched. “You told me to.”

That made Azzi smile as she moved forward again, now standing between Paige’s legs that naturally opened to make room for her.

“You always do what you’re told?” Azzi asked, lowering her voice on purpose as her eyes met Paige’s.

Paige looked her up and down again, not bothering to hide the way her gaze lingered on her chest, on the silver piece of jewelry resting near her belly button. Her voice was quiet when she answered. “Depends who’s telling me.”

Azzi quirked her head to the side at this. “If it’s me?”

Paige didn’t look away from her. “Then maybe.”

Azzi let a beat pass between them before taking a small step closer, her thighs brushing Paige’s. “Only maybe?”

Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth for a second, then back up. Her voice dropped too, a little raspier now as she said, “You gotta earn the ‘always’ from me.”

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, tilting her head as if she was considering that information. “That right?”

Paige nodded once. “Mhm.”

There was silence between them again. This version was thick, more intimate than their stretches of silence usually are. The water bubbled against them, steam curling upward making the moment seem...warmer. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, their intoxication slowing everything down, making it heavier.

Azzi's hands moved beneath the water, her warm fingers gliding over Paige’s forearms before gently guiding her hands to her waist. Paige’s grip settled there naturally, her thumbs brushed over Azzi’s skin as she invited her closer with a soft pull.

Azzi let her legs drift, slotting herself against Paige until she was nearly straddling her in the water, knees brushing each side of Paige’s body. Her arms came up, looping around Paige’s neck, her wet fingertips tracing the damp edges of her hair. Neither of them still not offering any words.

The only sounds were the bubbling of the jacuzzi and the occasional noise of a grasshopper in the woods around the house.

Azzi leaned in slightly, keeping her eyes on Paige’s. All of her movements were slow, partly from the intoxication, partly from giving Paige time. Permission. An out if she didn’t want her in this way.

But Paige didn’t move away, contrarily Azzi noticed the way her gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there as she moved closer.

So Azzi closed the distance, her lips brushing Paige’s in a kiss that was slow, but not in a way that was hesitant. They just weren’t rushing, just the slowness of two people feeling out something new and inevitable. Paige’s hands held her waist while Azzi kissed her like she’d been waiting to, like she was learning the shape of her mouth, the rhythm of her breath.

The kiss deepened slightly, but stayed gentle, their lips moving in sync, intoxication softening the edges of everything around them, making them more attuned to the moment, to what they were feeling. Allowing the kiss to melt into something fuller, their mouths parting just enough for breaths to hitch and warmth to spill between them. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, when Azzi tugged on her lip softly, but it wasn’t possessive. It was careful in a way that caught Azzi off guard.

For someone who fought for a living, Paige’s touch was unexpectedly soft. Her hands held Azzi like she might break her, her thumbs tracing gentle circles along her hips beneath the water. Azzi had expected heat and intensity the first time she got Paige like this. And it was there but it was wrapped in a kind of reverence that made her stomach flutter. The feeling had her in heaven but sick to her stomach at the same time from the feelings drifting from deep in her chest to her brain.

Azzi felt like Paige was kissing her like she was learning her mouth by heart. Each tilt of her head, each brush of her tongue was gradual but still somehow reflected the want she felt. Azzi responded in kind, one hand moving to tangle in the damp strands of Paige’s hair, the other still looped loosely behind her neck as she pressed a little closer, the water gently rocking around them at the movement.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing like they had all the time in the world.

Azzi’s lips parted from Paige’s just barely, her breath ghosting over pale wet skin as she trailed soft kisses down the line of Paige’s jaw and to the curve of her neck. Paige’s eyes fluttered closed again, tipping her head back as her arms stretched out along the edge of the jacuzzi, giving Azzi full access to her exposed skin—silent permission to keep going.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing the slope of her neck as she whispered, “You enjoying yourself?”

Paige let out a low hum. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi kept her lips moving slowly, before she pulled back just enough to look at her. “Good. But just so you know,” she added playfully, eyes flicking to Paige’s that had opened, “I don’t sleep with people on the first date. So don’t get any ideas.”

Paige couldn't help the smirk that formed, her eyes barely open as she looked up at Azzi. “That’s funny. I thought you wanted to sleep with me the first day we met.”

Azzi laughed against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing along her collarbone as she started to kiss her neck again. “That so?”

“Yup.”

Azzi pulled back again, just enough to glance at her with raised eyebrows, hands still loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck. “What gave you that impression?”

“Maybe all the eye-fucking you were doing from the bench before I was even introduced to you.”

Azzi scoffed, a disbelieving laugh coming out of her as she pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder thinking about it. “No I wasn’t.”

Paige tilted her head, smiling wider now. “Sure.”

Azzi smiled against her skin again, biting back her next laugh—because she kind of was now that she thought about it further.

Azzi lingered there for a beat, forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder, her breath warming her skin as she forced the warmth from the tips of her ears. Her fingers lightly traced over Paige’s collarbone, nails dragging just faintly against the skin. “You’re really full of yourself, huh?”

Paige’s hands slipped lower on Azzi’s waist beneath the water. “Just calling it how I saw it.”

Azzi tilted her head inwards, her mouth barely an inch from Paige’s jaw deciding to flip the script. “What are you seeing right now?” she whispered as her lips ghosted her skin but not quite kissing it.

Paige’s breath caught subtly, Azzi wouldn’t have noticed if Paige’s hands didn’t tighten slightly on her waist. “Feelin a lot more than I’m seeing.”

Azzi grinned, then kissed her again, deeper this time, a touch needier. There was still that slow intoxicated rhythm to it, but now it simmered with more tension. Azzi shifted in the water, straddling Paige properly, her body pressing in just enough to make them both feel it.

Paige’s hands slid up from her waist to the curve of her lower back, holding her in place. Her lips were soft. Patient in a way but leading them at the same time, coaxing Azzi to give more, as Azzi’s fingers threaded through the back of her damp hair, her hips instinctively rolling just once before she caught herself and pulled back slightly with a breathless laugh.

“Easy,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Paige’s again.

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige said, as she smiled a little, showing the amusement mixed in with her desire.

“Your hands are saying otherwise.”

Paige smirked, her fingers gliding back down to Azzi’s hips under the water. “Don’t matter. You didn’t sleep with people on the first date, remember.”

Azzi smiled at this. “This isn’t the date, remember? Makes things a little hazy”

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw, clearly distracted as she mumbleed. “Then what rules do I gotta follow?”

Azzi exhaled softly, her eyes fluttering shut as Paige’s lips hovered over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Shhh,” she whispered, one hand sliding into Paige’s hair as she guided her mouth lower, pressing Paige’s lips to the sensitive part of her neck.

Paige obliged, her lips finding Azzi’s pulse point as Azzi tilted her head to the side, giving her more to work with. She melted into it, her breath catching every so often as Paige’s mouth moved slowly, tracing Azzi’s pulse points with her tongue and teeth. When Paige bit down gently Azzi rocked further into her, a soft sound catching in her throat.

Each time Azzi rolled her hips closer, grinding against Paige she felt the perfect amount of pressure that was only heightened when Paige helped her press down further causing the water to lap around them.

They repeated this for nearly ten minutes. Azzi’s body straddled Paige’s, her fingers drawing patterns over her shoulders as she pushed herself into the blonde. Paige’s hands stayed low on Azzi’s back, then drifted lower when she sensed Azzi getting a little needier, her fingers playing idly with the string of her red bikini bottoms beneath the water. The way she toyed with the string was intentional. She was teasing Azzi but staying patient, waiting for the girl on her lap to make whatever decision she wanted.

Azzi felt the tension coiling in her stomach, breaking the kiss and hovering her lips near Paige’s ear. She was about to tell her breathily to take it off but then Paige’s phone buzzed against the ledge behind them.

Azzi stilled but Paige didn’t even lift her head from Azzi’s neck. “Ignore it.”

Azzi easily gave in, leaning back in to kiss her again, her mouth finding Paige’s. Paige slipped one hand up to cradle the back of Azzi’s neck and pulled her closer.

But then the phone rang again and for some reason in this moment it seemed louder…more insistent than usual.

Azzi laughed against Paige’s lips, pulling back to look at her as Paige chased her a little. “You sure I’m the one who was thirsty?” she teased.

Paige tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Unreal.”

Azzi smiled softly as she slid her hands down Paige’s chest and gave one last lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before whispering, “Good night, Paige.”

Paige opened her eyes just as Azzi stepped out of the jacuzzi, steam curling around her silhouette in the cool air. Paige watched her go with her lips parted.

And the fucking phone was still ringing.

Paige let out a long sigh as she reluctantly snatched it off the ledge and swiped to answer when she saw the name Cam glowing across the screen. “What.”

“Hi to you too, grumpy.”

Paige leaned her head back again, the steam from the jacuzzi curling around her face as she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “What, Cam?”

“I was just checking on you. I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

Paige’s tone was dry. “I’m alive.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Cam asked, “What are you doing?”

Paige groaned at the pointless conversation, “You cockblocked me.”

There was a beat of silence before Cam burst into laughter. “What?!”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. “Do you need something Cameron?”

Cam hummed dramatically. “I don’t know…maybe just to hear my annoying sister’s voice.”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of Paige as she ran a hand through her damp hair and shifted her weight in the water. “Hi, Cam.”

She could hear the grin on Cam’s face through the phone as she said, “There we go.”

There was a brief pause before Cam’s tone turned curious. “So...who ya with?”

Paige snorted. “Mind your business.”

Cam gasped. “I’m almost 100% sure it’s Azzi so you might as well tell me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She texted the group chat and told us all to leave her alone unless somebody died. That was like...six hours ago.”

Paige couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she leaned her head back against the ledge again. “Hm.”

The two of them talked a bit more, Cam giving her updates on Ben and her mom’s latest antics, Paige tossed in a few dry comments here and there to entertain Cam.

Mid-conversation, Paige’s eyes drifted up toward the second floor of the cabin and she saw Azzi moving past the window before pausing when she saw Paige looking. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder as she looked down at Paige.

Paige smirked as she tilted her head, silently inviting Azzi back downstairs with a playful look in her eyes.

Azzi arched an eyebrow.

Paige gave her best version of a pout, mouthing please.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners before she exaggeratedly mouthed, no and walked away.

Paige sighed, but the smirk never left her face as Cam kept talking in her ear.

…

Much later that night, Azzi was in bed, restlessly kicking at the sheets. The air in the room she picked felt too warm and no matter how many times she flipped her pillow or changed positions, she couldn’t get comfortable. Her body felt tense…unsettled in a way she couldn’t just ignore to fall asleep. She was uncomfortable and needy.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat up. The silence of the large cabin settled around her and it was broken by the creak of floorboards as she walked barefoot down the stairs. The dim lighting from the moon spilled in through the large windows lighting up the open space just enough for her to see. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.

She stood there a moment, sipping slowly, trying to calm herself down. Her eyes drifted to the sky outside. It was clear and scattered with more stars than she could count. She ran a hand up her neck, exhaling through her nose before pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a thin tank top that clung to her skin. Her small pajama shorts rode high on her thighs, and she tugged at the waistband out of habit as she redid her messy bun, a few stubborn curls falling loose around her face.

For a few minutes, she tried to focus on the quietness, on her breathing, on the cool glass against her lips but it didn’t work. Eventually, she gave up.

Setting her glass down on the counter with a soft clink, she turned and moved through the hall. Her knuckles hovered over Paige’s door for just a second before she knocked.

Paige heard the knock and stirred, blinking slowly as she registered the sound. She groaned softly, pushing the covers off and rubbing at her face before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body moved on autopilot as she moved across the room and opened the door still half-asleep.

Azzi stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from down the hall. Paige blinked, her sleepy eyes scanning down the thin tank top clinging to Azzi’s body and the pajama shorts that left little to the imagination.

Paige blinked again, slower this time. “…Wassup? You good?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

Azzi shifted her weight, her lips pressing together for a second. “I’m hot,” she said simply, then added, “and I can’t sleep.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tilted her head at Azzi’s choice of words. But she didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, opening the door further. “Come in.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment at the threshold as Paige moved back into the room. The cool air from Paige’s room brushing over her skin and making her exhale softly. It was a relief from the stuffy heat of her own room so she stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Paige was already crawling back in bed, flopping onto her stomach with a tired groan as she buried half her face back into a pillow. The sheet dipped slightly as her weight settled, the muscles in her back flexing faintly as she got adjusted.

Azzi walked over and carefully slid under the covers next to her, lying on her side as she looked at Paige.

“You always sleep like that?” she asked quietly.

Paige hummed. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi smiled a little. “Looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

They were quiet for a moment before Azzi spoke again. “You okay with me being in here?”

Paige’s eyes stayed closed, but she shifted, turning her head toward Azzi. “Yeah.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, her body starting to relax as melted into the bed. “It’s freezing in here,” she added playfully.

“Better than melting,” Paige mumbled. After a pause, she added, “C’mere then.”

Azzi didn’t respond; she just smiled to herself before drifting closer under the covers and turning the other way. Paige shifted to her side and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her in. Azzi immediately felt the heat from Paige’s skin and it was comforting; seeping into Azzi’s own skin and soothing the restlessness she'd been fighting all night.

Azzi whispered, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

For a few moments, it was quiet. Paige’s breath was steady against the back of Azzi’s neck as she started to easily slip back into sleep.

But Azzi’s mind hadn’t settled. She spoke again, almost like a thought of hers slipped out without permission. “You sleep like this often? Holding people?”

Paige hummed. “Nope.”

Azzi smiled a little, her fingers brushing Paige’s forearm. “So, what I’m special?”

Paige gave a lazy, “Yup.”

Azzi kept going. “You’re warm...like stupid warm. I feel like I’m melting now…in a good way though”

“You’re welcome.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, but when she opened her mouth again, Paige interrupted with a tired, “Azzi…”

Azzi paused, then tried to turn a little to face her. “Hm?”

Paige’s arms tightened around her, pulling her back into place as she mumbled against Azzi’s shoulder, “Go to sleep for me.”

Azzi was about to protest, but Paige somehow managed to pull her closer, her head gently resting on top of Azzi’s. One of her hands slipped under Azzi’s tanktop and her fingers drew patterns on her waist.

Azzi let out a quiet breath, her protest completely forgotten as she whispered, “Okay.” Her eyes finally fluttering closed.