#chat keeps getting errors in testing

[dollivication]

dolly is experiencing some technical difficulties with this SHIT app so she will be focusing on releasing the yan leon fic first! and then from there,,, i have No clue . 🩷;

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Motion Sick // Chapter 13

A/N: So this was crazy, didn't realize i wrote this much, but here we are... so enjoy!! i did a quick read through and didn't see any errors, but i did write this over like 3 days, some of which was written very deliriously so idk let me know if you see anything. appreciate you reading and reacting 💕

WC: 12K+

Warnings: explicit sexy things, Minors DNI

**** Chapter 13 ****

The second week of waiting didn’t feel easier. Just… managed.

Lexi was still in Hawaii, posting golden hour sunsets and snapchats of poolside smoothies like it was the best week of her life. Smiles in every photo. Inside jokes in every caption. The kind of trip where everyone comes back with matching anklets and a stronger group chat.

Azzi double-tapped a few out of instinct, but even that was starting to feel performative. She wasn’t waiting on texts anymore. Didn’t really notice the gaps between them until they were pointed out by the timestamp. And when Lexi did send something—some blurry selfie or beach emoji—Azzi would stare at it for a few seconds too long before swiping it away without answering.

It wasn’t just distance. She was pulling back. Slowly. Quietly. Letting the space stretch a little further every day. And Lexi didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just wasn’t reaching to close it.

Different time zone. Different team. Different rhythm.

A different life.

Maybe that was unfair. Maybe not.

They hadn’t really defined anything. Not officially. Not out loud. It was still new. Still loose. But Azzi couldn’t help noticing the way she’d started hesitating before answering Lexi’s texts. How her stomach didn’t flip anymore when her name lit up the screen. How easy it was to let hours—sometimes days—go by before she responded to a simple “miss u.”

And the truth was—she didn’t miss her. Not even a little. Not in the way she knew she should. Not in the way that counted.

She felt a little guilty about that. Like she was failing some unspoken test of what it meant to be good at relationships. Lexi had been kind. Supportive. Safe. She deserved more than silence on the other end of a text thread. More than someone who felt herself slipping away and didn’t try all that hard to stop it.

But Azzi couldn’t fake missing someone she didn’t think about when they weren’t right in front of her.

Azzi could go hours without thinking about Lexi. Maybe even days—if Lexi didn’t keep snap-streaking her smoothies like it was a contractual obligation.

She couldn’t make it through a single minute without Paige slipping into the corners of her mind, soft and stubborn, like a song she never meant to memorize.

So she stayed busy instead. Tried to keep her head down and her hands full. Morning lifts. Rehab. Practice. Film. Sleep.

Repeat.

She told herself if she could just keep moving, she wouldn’t have time to unravel.

Azzi was cleared for full practice, which helped. She had a schedule again. A rhythm. Early lifts, afternoon film, full-contact reps. Enough to sweat out some of the chaos still simmering beneath her skin. Enough to keep her from crawling out of hers every time Paige looked at her like that.

The season hadn’t exactly been smooth. Her injury had come at the worst time—just as conference play was heating up. They’d managed a couple solid wins without her, sure. Pulled it together when it counted. But the rhythm was off. The energy. Everyone felt it.

The other girls had stepped up in ways that made Azzi’s chest ache. But the truth was, they needed more than that. They needed Azzi.

And Azzi—God—she needed to be needed. To get back on the court and do something other than watch. Other than feel.

The structure gave her something to grip—like handrails on a staircase that still felt too steep. Something to hold onto while everything underneath stayed unstable. But the second she wasn’t actively busy, the second her body stilled and her mind had room to wander, it always drifted back to the same place.

To Paige. Because Paige was everywhere.

In the locker room, Paige kept stealing her Biofreeze like it was a bit they were both in on. Like she didn’t already have her own. Like using Azzi’s somehow made it hotter.

It started innocently enough. Paige would uncap the tube and squeeze some into her palm, rolling up the leg of her shorts to rub it into her knee, slow and deliberate. Head tilted. Eyes locked on Azzi like she was waiting to be caught.

She never rushed it. Always the same rhythm—long, slow circles, thumbs pressing into the muscle like she was trying to prove something. Like she knew Azzi was watching and wanted to make it worse. Paige would sit on the bench across from her, legs spread, smirking, smug, and infuriatingly pretty. Hair half-damp. Skin flushed from practice. Biting her lip like it was a reflex.

And then—of course—she’d turn the attention to Azzi.

"You want some?" she’d ask, already walking over.

Already behind her.

No room to say no.

Azzi would feel the cool weight of Paige’s hands on her shoulders before she could brace for it. Paige would rub the Biofreeze in like it was foreplay—palms broad, strokes slow. Her knuckles would graze just below Azzi’s collarbone, dangerously close to everything off-limits. Fingers drifting, pressing, dragging like she was sculpting tension out of skin.

Azzi would stiffen. Every time. Breathe through her nose and focus on a scuff mark on the floor like it might anchor her to reality.

This was a training room. With people. Coaches. Consequences. And yet.

She’d feel Paige’s breath at her ear—warm, barely there—and she’d want to lean back into it. Just for a second. Just to see what would happen.

Paige would always finish it the same way: a quick squeeze at the base of her neck and a murmured, “You good?”

And Azzi—still recovering, still furious, still not breathing right—would mutter something like “Fine,” when what she meant was I hate you or please do that again.

She never said it out loud. But Paige always walked away smiling like she’d heard it anyway.

In the gym, she was even worse.

Injured and bored was apparently Paige’s personal brand of menace, because instead of focusing on her own rehab, she hovered. Circled Azzi like it was a game. A routine. A ritual they weren’t allowed to talk about.

Spotting her during lifts even when she didn’t need one. Pretending to check her form, fingers slipping just under the hem of Azzi’s shorts to “adjust” the resistance bands on her hips. Dropping to her knees like it was normal—like it didn’t make Azzi forget how to stand upright.

The mirrors made it worse. Unforgiving. Honest.

Paige, kneeling behind her. Hands on her thighs. Looking up like she was about to pray.

Azzi had to fake a quad cramp once just to walk it off.

And Paige would just hand her a water bottle after like none of it had happened. All casual. All composed.

“Here you go, princess,” she’d say with a smirk that should’ve been illegal. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

Azzi would shove her, weakly. Or blush. Usually both. And Paige would walk away with her towel slung over one shoulder, already biting back a laugh.

She was so annoying.

So smug. So obvious. So goddamn hot.

And the worst part?

Azzi liked it.

She liked the attention. The teasing. The way Paige was flirting without ever technically crossing a line. Like she was daring Azzi to be the one who broke first.

And every time, Azzi got a little closer to doing it. To crossing that line. To turning around mid-lift and grabbing Paige by the collar just to see what would happen.

She didn’t, of course.

But she thought about it. More than she wanted to admit. Enough that ignoring it started to feel like lying.

And Azzi—fully aware that she was spiraling—started pushing back.

She wore shorter shorts. Took her time stretching, especially when Paige was around—slow, deliberate movements that made eye contact feel dangerous. Sat next to her at team dinners and let her leg rest against Paige’s under the table, warm and unmoving. Started sending her texts that didn’t even try to play innocent anymore.

Sometimes it was just a photo.

A mirror selfie from the locker room, chest gleaming, eyes half-lidded. A snap of her legs stretched out on the recovery table, skin flushed and glistening. Once, a post-shower shot—towel tucked just high enough to stay legal, water dripping from her hair, lips parted like she didn’t mean to look that good.

No context. No warning.

Just vibes.

Paige would open it. Leave her on read for five whole minutes. Then send back the same emoji every time: 😇

And Azzi would stare at her phone like, you are so full of shit.

Eventually, the photos turned into texts. Hotter. Filthier. The kind of things that made her want to throw her phone across the room the second she hit send.

Once, late at night, Azzi texted: if you’re gonna eye fuck me all practice, the least you could do is help me finish.

No selfie. No punctuation. Just chaos.

Paige left her on read again.

And then—two nights later—got her revenge.

Azzi was laying in bed when it happened. Barely paying attention to her screen, hoodie pulled over her face like she was trying to hide from her own decisions.

Her phone buzzed.

It was a selfie.

Just Paige—head tilted, lips parted, eyes low and dangerous. A full smirk pulled across her mouth like she was daring Azzi to react. No makeup. No shirt in frame. Just collarbone. Jawline. Sin.

A text followed: you miss your seat or should I bring it to you?

Azzi audibly choked. Dropped her phone. Had to lie there for a full minute and just breathe.

Because she knew what it meant. There was no room for misinterpretation. Paige had sent that smirking selfie like she wasn’t about to ruin Azzi’s whole life from several floors away. Like she hadn’t just planted the mental image of Azzi on her face and dared her to react.

Azzi stared at the ceiling like it might offer her divine intervention. Or at least temporary amnesia.

She didn’t sleep that night. Didn’t even try.

How could she, when her brain was now running a 24/7 highlight reel titled Things Paige Bueckers Has Done To Emotionally Terrorize Me (And That I Would Absolutely Let Her Do Again)?

Paige 

Paige had been enjoying the game. More than she should’ve. More than she admitted to herself most days. It had started out harmless—teasing, pushing buttons, seeing how close she could get without touching flame.

But her mind played dirtier than she meant it to. Filthier by the minute.

What Azzi saw as flirting, Paige was already rewriting in her head into scenes that shouldn’t be happening in a public gym. Or ever, really. And it was getting harder—literally, sometimes—to keep that energy locked behind her teeth and not act on any of it.

She was hanging on by, like, two threads of physical restraint and one very overworked sense of self-control.

So she tested it.

The next day, she “accidentally” brushed her fingers against Azzi’s hip while adjusting her warm-up band, and Azzi jolted like Paige had whispered something filthy instead of just touched her.

Which—fair. Paige probably had that look in her eyes again. The one Azzi pretended not to see. The one Paige didn’t even bother hiding anymore.

They flirted in gym mirrors and whispered in hallways like they weren’t two seconds from getting caught. Stole food off each other’s plates like it was foreplay. Azzi started handing her the Gatorade bottle without a word, just a slow pass, fingers brushing, gaze locked. Paige always drank from it a little too slow. A little too smug. Because she knew.

They both did.

Outside of basketball, it was somehow worse. There were fewer rules. Less structure. Just impulse.

They’d been dumb enough to try spending the night together once. Just to sleep. That was the rule.

It had been a long day—Paige was sore from treatment, mentally fried from sitting through two hours of film with the freshmen who still didn’t know how to defend a stagger screen, and Azzi hadn’t wanted to walk back to her dorm after sticking around late from a movie. They were both tired. Delirious. 

So when Paige said, “You can just crash here if you want,” it felt harmless. Practical, even. They were adults.

They could handle a twin XL and one shared blanket.

Obviously.

They set rules. Boundaries. Two feet apart. No funny business. No breathing weird. No “accidental” touching. And absolutely no mid-sleep spooning.

For a while, it worked.

Sort of.

Azzi lay on her side, back to Paige, motionless but not asleep. Paige mirrored her—flat on her back, eyes wide open, tracking every sound in the room like it might save her from herself. The hum of the mini fridge. The rustle of sheets. The shallow rise and fall of Azzi’s breath.

They weren’t touching. But they were close. Too close.

Every inch of Paige’s body felt aware of her. Like Azzi had become a gravitational field Paige couldn’t fully step out of. And the worst part? She didn’t want to.

Azzi shifted slightly. Paige felt the blanket tug. One of Azzi’s knees brushed her calf—barely—but Paige’s brain short-circuited anyway. Everything went very still. Very quiet. The kind of quiet that buzzed in your chest.

And then—breathing. Not loud. Not sharp. Just... different.

Slower. Thicker. Like Azzi felt it too.

Paige’s hand twitched in the dark. She thought about reaching out. Just once. Just to see.

Not to start anything. Not really. But maybe a little.

She wanted to touch her. Wanted to trace the curve of Azzi’s spine just to feel it, to prove she still could. She wanted to press her fingers into the soft place behind her knee, the one she used to kiss for no reason at all. She wanted to hear the sound Azzi made when she lost her breath—not just because of her body, but because of her.

It wasn’t just about wanting her. It was about missing her. It was about still knowing her in ways that made her hands ache with the need to remember.

She didn’t move. She didn’t reach.

Because as much as she wanted to—God, she wanted to—this wasn’t the moment. Not yet. Not when there was still mess hanging in the air that didn’t belong to them. Not when Azzi still had someone else’s name on her texts. 

They’d waited this long. They could wait a little longer.

Because when it happened—when they let it happen—she wanted it clean. Honest. Theirs.

And right now, it wasn’t.

Not yet.

And then—just a little—Azzi shifted her hips.

Nothing major. Just a small shift—enough to get comfortable. But Paige’s brain short-circuited anyway. She let out the softest, stupidest breath against the back of Azzi’s neck. A dead giveaway.

Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But then—so quiet it barely counted as sound:

“I miss you.”

Paige went still. Every breath caught halfway. Every muscle braced like she'd been hit in the chest. The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was everything.

Then, barely a whisper, like it hurt to say it:

“I miss you too.”

The space between them felt full. Like maybe they could stay there forever if they didn’t say anything else. If they just let the wanting settle and stayed very, very still.

But Paige knew better.

Instead, she sat up too fast. Her heart was pounding. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes like that would make it stop. Like it would undo what was already happening.

Azzi didn’t speak at first. Didn’t move. Just watched her with that unreadable expression Paige could barely look at.

Paige shifted awkwardly. “I’m gonna—” Her voice caught, too rough. “I’ll be back.”

Azzi’s brows pulled together, just slightly. “You don’t have to.”

Paige hesitated. “I know.”

Azzi nodded, like that answer was enough. Like she already knew why Paige needed to leave.

So Paige grabbed her hoodie off the chair and left before she could change her mind.

The hallway was cold. The stairwell was worse. She took them two at a time.

Because the truth was? Azzi had been in her room. But Paige needed the distance. Needed to breathe.

So she went to Azzi’s instead.

Same building. Just one floor down. Completely empty. Still smelled like her lotion and her shampoo and everything that made Paige feel unsteady.

She curled up on Azzi’s bed, pulled the extra blanket over her head, and stared at the ceiling in the dark.

She didn’t sleep.

Not even close.

****

She woke up to someone poking her in the forehead.

“Paige.”

Poke.

“Paige.”

Poke.

“Why are you in Azzi’s bed without Azzi?”

Paige groaned and rolled onto her side, face half-smushed into the pillow. “Go away.”

Caroline did not go away.

She stood at the foot of the bed, staring like Paige was a science experiment gone mildly wrong. “No, seriously. You’re in Azzi’s bed. And Azzi is... not. So unless she sleep-parachuted out the window, I’m gonna need answers.”

Paige blinked. Sat up slowly. Her hair was a disaster. Her hoodie was on backwards. One of her socks had somehow migrated to the floor.

“She’s not here,” Paige said, voice flat and hoarse. “Because she’s in my bed.”

Caroline raised both eyebrows. “Well, that raises exactly a million more questions.”

Paige sighed and held up a hand. “We were watching a movie. It got late. She didn’t want to walk back to her room, so I said she could crash.”

“Okay, sure. Still not explaining why you’re the one playing Goldilocks in her bed.”

Paige groaned. “We tried to sleep. Like, actually sleep. But then it got all quiet and weird and... tense. Like the kind of tense where breathing starts to feel like a crime? And I just— I didn’t trust myself not to do something reckless, so I bailed. Came here to cool off.”

Caroline blinked. “So your grand solution was to flee your own bed and emotionally pace in hers.”

“I didn’t pace.”

“You are mentally pacing, Bueckers.”

Paige flopped back dramatically onto the mattress. “When the hell does Lexi get back?”

“Not soon enough. I’m getting sick watching you two eye-fuck each other in public like it’s a team bonding activity.”

“I’m hanging on by a thread,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

“A fraying thread. On fire. Wrapped around a bomb.”

****

The hallway was still quiet when Paige made it back upstairs, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, her heart pacing at the dumbest speed for someone who technically hadn’t done anything last night.

She pushed open the door to her room—their room, for the night—and felt the breath knock out of her.

Azzi was still there.

Curled up on Paige’s bed like she’d been planted there on purpose. Hair sprawled across the pillow, one arm tucked under her cheek, the other resting on her stomach like she’d drifted off mid-thought. Her hoodie had slipped slightly off one shoulder. The same shoulder Paige had kissed once in the dark when things were simpler. Or maybe just more confusing.

Paige stood in the doorway for too long.

She wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore.

Because this? It wasn’t fair. But God, it was beautiful. It was Azzi. Soft in a way that didn’t show up on game tape. Quiet in a way that made Paige ache.

She crossed the room slowly, like one wrong move might wake her or ruin the moment.

God, she looked peaceful.

And Paige wanted to be that peace. For her. She wanted to be the thing Azzi reached for when everything else felt too loud. Not the complication. Not the mess.

Just… hers.

She crouched down next to the bed and reached out—gentle, like she didn’t want to disturb whatever dream Azzi was lost in. She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, let her thumb ghost along the side of her face, down to the sharp line of her jaw, lingering just a second longer than she probably should have.

Azzi stirred. Eyes blinking open, soft and unfocused at first.

Then—Paige.

And that smile.

Sleepy. Real. Like she was happy Paige was the first thing she saw.

“You came back,” Azzi whispered.

Paige smiled too, something tight and fluttery pressing against her ribs. “Of course I came back.”

Azzi shifted a little, making space for her. Paige sat on the edge of the bed, their knees brushing. Azzi’s blanket slipped slightly, and Paige didn’t know if it was the morning light or her own brain short-circuiting, but she swore she could feel the warmth radiating off her skin like gravity.

“I’m sorry I left,” Paige said, voice lower now, softer. “I just… I didn’t trust myself.”

Azzi gave a tiny shake of her head. “Thank you for leaving.” Her voice was still thick from sleep, but her eyes were clear. Honest. “Because if you hadn’t... I wouldn’t have stopped you. There’s no way.”

Paige let that sit between them for a second. Let herself believe it. Because she’d known—felt—how close they were to the edge. One shift. One sigh. One hand in the wrong place.

And it would’ve been over.

Or worse—it wouldn’t have been enough.

Azzi reached under the blanket and laced their fingers together, casual like it was muscle memory. Paige let her.

God, she wanted to be reckless. She wanted to lie down next to her and press her mouth to that dimple on Azzi’s left cheek—the one that only showed up when she was really smiling, the one Paige could never look at without wanting more. 

But she also wanted to do right. For once. For both of them.

Azzi’s thumb moved over Paige’s knuckles under the blanket, slow and thoughtful. Neither of them said anything for a moment, like speaking might shatter the delicate calm they'd built between them.

Then Azzi exhaled. “This week is going to suck.”

Paige let out a soft, dry laugh. “Understatement of the century.”

Azzi looked up at her, a tired half-smile tugging at her lips. “We made it this far, though.”

“Barely.”

“Your fault,” Azzi said, nudging her knee against Paige’s. “With your smug little water bottle stunt and your gym mirror thirst traps.”

Paige gasped—dramatically. “My fault? You were the one sending post-shower selfies and stretching like a menace in spandex.”

Azzi grinned. “Allegedly.”

They both laughed—quiet, breathless, the kind of laugh that felt like relief.

Then silence again. But this time, not heavy.

Paige’s eyes drifted toward her desk.

And there it was.

The bracelet.

Still sitting where she left it. Unworn. Untouched.

Pink and purple beads. The word purpose spelled out in white block letters. Azzi had made it herself. Not a replacement for the one Paige had given her last year—but something new. Something that came out of the silence. Something chosen.

Paige nodded toward it. “That bracelet… I think I need to start wearing it.”

Azzi followed her gaze, then back at Paige, her voice soft but slightly teasing. “Why now? I was starting to think you didn’t even like it.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh, almost sheepish. “I liked it too much, maybe. I wasn’t ready to wear something that actually meant something.”

She looked down, then back at Azzi, her voice quieter now. “But I think I am. I think I need it. Just to remind me to hold on a little longer.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. But the shift in her face was instant—gentler, steadier. Like something in her had finally unclenched.

“I want this,” Paige said, voice barely above a whisper. “Like—really want this. But if we’re gonna do it… I want to do it right. No guilt. No mess. No baggage hanging on us like a shadow.”

Azzi nodded, eyes shining just a little. “I want that too.”

“Then we wait,” Paige said, her fingers tightening slightly around Azzi’s. “Even if it’s hell.”

Azzi smiled—small and sweet and real. “Purpose,” she repeated, like the word itself could steady her heartbeat.

Paige reached forward and picked up the bracelet. She slid it over her wrist slowly—it caught slightly on her knuckles, the elastic tugging before settling snug against her skin. Pink and purple beads pressed gently into her pulse, warm from the light and the moment. Like armor. Like hope.

Azzi

The trip to Omaha was cursed. That was the only logical explanation.

Creighton was no joke. Easily one of their hardest conference games. They were tough. Disciplined. Sharp from the perimeter. And the gym always had that weird haunted-church energy—like even the bleachers wanted them to lose.

Azzi wasn’t dreading the game, though. She liked games like this. High stakes. Real strategy. A good excuse to hit the reset button and drown her feelings in defense. And more than anything, she was playing. Not fully cleared, not a full workload—but she was back in the rotation. Back in the warmups, back in the pregame huddles, back on the scout report. Even if it was just restricted minutes, it meant something. Her name would be called again. She could feel the itch in her chest—that wired, buzzing anticipation that only came from knowing she’d get to make an impact, even if it was only a handful of possessions.

No, what she was dreading was the rest of it.

The travel. The hotel. The Paige of it all.

They’d cleared the air—well, as much as two people could while still pretending they weren’t seconds away from combusting. Set some rules. Drew the line in something thicker than sand.

She’d meant it.

She wanted to mean it.

Because the truth was, she liked what they were building. The slow, careful stitching of something real. Not just heat and habit, but trust. She’d seen the bracelet on Paige’s wrist that morning—Purpose, snug against her pulse like a promise—and something had settled in her chest. Like maybe they could actually hold on long enough to make it count.

But that didn’t mean this trip wasn’t going to suck.

Because wanting the right thing didn’t make the wrong thing stop pulsing under her skin every time Paige so much as looked at her.

And Nebraska.

God, Nebraska.

Omaha at least had a few redeeming qualities—like that steakhouse the team always went to. The one with the cowboy-themed menus and the baked potatoes the size of her face. She still remembered her first trip freshman year, sitting across from Nika and Caroline, trying not to moan over a bone-in ribeye. Seriously. Some of the best steak she’d ever had. Nebraska knew how to do cows. That was probably it, though.

This time, nothing had gone right.

Flight delay. Broken kiosk. Paige’s carry-on got pulled for extra screening because of an “unidentified cylindrical object” that turned out to be her foam roller.

Caroline nearly had a meltdown when she realized that she forgot her neck pillow back in her room.

“I need to lean on something or I’ll spiral,” she declared, completely straight-faced.

“You could lean on Jesus,” Aubrey deadpanned.

Caroline just flipped her off and stole Aubrey’s Sour Patch Kids as punishment.

By the time they landed, everyone was cranky. And then Coach handed out the rooming list.

Azzi glanced down at the paper in her hand.

Room 314: Paige Bueckers & Azzi Fudd

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh my God,” Caroline said instantly, too loudly.

Aubrey peered over her shoulder and broke into a grin. “Coach really said slow burn roommates trope.”

“What?” Ines asked, looking up from her phone.

“Nothing,” Caroline chirped, way too quickly. “Inside joke. Super boring. You wouldn’t get it.”

Paige didn’t say a word. Just stared at the list like it might self-destruct. Azzi could feel her vibrating next to her—tight shoulders, clenched jaw, the barest flicker of panic behind her eyes.

Azzi didn’t trust herself to speak. Her pulse was spiking, and the air felt thinner than it should.

Caroline leaned in just close enough, lowering her voice: “Try not to moan her name so loud this time, okay?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Just grabbed the handle of her suitcase, muttering under her breath, “Oh, fuck off.”

Caroline grinned like she’d won something.

They all shuffled toward the elevator. Paige was quiet, walking just behind her, wheeling her bag like it weighed more than it should.

Azzi didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Because this was already a disaster. And they hadn’t even opened the door yet.

The hotel room door creaked open like something out of a horror movie.

And honestly? It felt that way.

One bed.

One.

Paige’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Azzi stepped in behind her, paused, and stared like she could manifest a second bed just by glaring hard enough.

“Who in the actual…” Paige didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. The sexual tension was already unpacking its suitcase in the corner.

It wasn’t even a queen. It was barely a full.

This was a cosmic joke.

The room felt like a trap. Like the second the door clicked shut, the oxygen changed.

They didn’t say anything.

Paige tossed her phone on the nightstand, but didn’t move otherwise. Azzi stood near the dresser, arms folded tightly across her chest, like she could hold herself back with just the pressure of her own grip.

She didn’t know how it happened. Honestly. One second, they were a room’s length apart. The next, she was on top of Paige, knees straddling her thighs, their foreheads pressed together, the kind of silence between them that wasn’t quiet at all.

They weren’t kissing. Not yet. But their breath was shared, erratic. Azzi could feel Paige’s hands already under her shirt, fingertips grazing skin like they’d never stopped touching. Paige’s eyes were dark, lips parted, her voice gone—completely swallowed by the moment.

Then—

“Shit,” Paige whispered.

Her fingers had caught on something—Azzi’s hair twisted into the pink-and-purple bracelet she had finally put on. 

Azzi stilled.

The soft elastic of the bracelet tugged just enough to snap her back into her body.

That stupid little piece of string, sitting between them like a truth they couldn’t pretend didn’t exist.

Purpose.

They had made a promise. To wait. To mean it.

Azzi closed her eyes. Rested her forehead against Paige’s for one more beat.

Then pulled back.

“I’ll shower first,” she said, quiet, not looking at her.

She climbed off the bed before she changed her mind and didn’t let herself check Paige’s face on the way to the bathroom. Didn’t want to see the regret. Or the ache. Or worse—agreement.

The door shut behind her. Loud. Final.

But nothing felt finished.

She stripped fast—almost frantically—trying not to see herself in the mirror, not like this. Not flushed and flustered and shaking like someone had lit a fire in her bloodstream and dared her not to burn.

The water turned on with a screech, too hot on her skin, scalding on purpose. She needed to feel something else. Anything else. The bathroom filled with steam so quickly she couldn’t see the tiles in front of her.

But she wasn’t thinking about the water.

She was thinking about Paige. On the other side of that paper-thin wall. Sitting on that bed they weren’t going to talk about. Shirt probably tugged up just a little. Head tilted back, mouth parted, brows drawn like they always did when she was close.

The image came uninvited and landed hard—heavy and visceral and real.

Azzi’s hand moved lower before she even realized it, like muscle memory. Like instinct.

Slow. Careful. Testing the edge of her own restraint.

She squeezed her eyes shut, let her head fall back against the wall. The tile was slick against her spine. Her other hand found the edge of the shower, bracing. Her fingers moved, slow and steady, but her breathing wasn’t.

She wasn’t just imagining it. She felt Paige. The tension. The pull. The heat that had built between them since the moment that damn door closed.

Then— God. Then she heard it.

Barely at first—a breath. Maybe nothing.

But then again. Louder. A stifled moan. A caught inhale. The kind that rattled in your chest and broke apart as it left you.

Azzi’s hand stilled, her eyes flying open.

No way.

She leaned into the sound. Listened.

And there it was—Paige’s voice, soft and low, her name ghosting through the wall like a secret.

Azzi’s knees nearly buckled.

Because Paige was doing it too.

Paige was touching herself, alone in that bed, just feet away. No shame. No hesitation. Like the promise they made had already unraveled between her fingers. Like Azzi’s hands were still on her, even when they weren’t.

Something inside her cracked clean open.

She exhaled hard and let go—fingers picking up rhythm, her body jerking forward into the heat of the spray. She didn’t hold back. Couldn’t. Not when she knew Paige could hear her too. Not when this—this—was the only thing that could quiet the ache lodged in her chest.

She pressed her forehead to the tile, her breath coming faster now, hips grinding into her hand like she was chasing something she couldn’t name. Her other hand slammed against the wall for leverage, water cascading down her spine, everything in her tight and trembling and dangerously close.

And then—

“Azzi—”

Her name. Again. Clearer this time. Desperate.

Azzi whimpered. Loud. Messy.

The sound bounced off the tile.

She moved faster, chasing the high she hadn’t let herself feel in weeks. Her thighs shook. Her jaw clenched. Her body clenched tighter. The sound of Paige’s voice—ragged, hoarse, broken—pushed her right over the edge.

“Fuck, Paige—”

It tore out of her as she came—body arching, lips parted, a sob catching in her throat. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was too much. It felt like grief and fire and hunger and home, all at once.

When it finally passed, she sagged against the wall, breathless. The water had gone lukewarm. Her legs barely held her upright.

Silence followed.

But it wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t closure.

It was the kind of silence that screamed.

She stepped out ten minutes later, wrapped in a towel, hair wet and curling at the ends. She didn’t look directly at the bed.

“Shower’s free,” she said, voice hoarse, barely there.

Paige didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her either. She was curled under the blanket, screen glowing too bright against her face.

But Azzi could feel her watching.

And even in the dark, she knew—Paige had heard her.

Knew it. Felt it.

Azzi got into bed and rolled over, facing the wall. Her heart wouldn’t slow down. She could still feel Paige’s name on her tongue.

And worse—she could still feel the pulse in her core, low and stubborn, the phantom ache of release still echoing through her body. Her skin was too warm. Her limbs too heavy. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off, not fully. It left her breathless in a way that wasn’t just physical.

She wasn’t sure what kind of silence this was—if it meant too much, or not enough.

But that had happened.

And it meant something.

Even with a wall of steam and restraint and distance between them—it still felt like the most intimate thing they’d shared in months. Maybe longer.

It wasn’t just about getting off. It was about being known. Felt. Heard.

Azzi closed her eyes and let the burn settle in her chest.

No one had ever made her feel like this. And the worst part?

Paige didn’t even touch her.

Not really. And still—Azzi didn’t want to take it back.

She stared into the dark, muscles tense beneath the scratchy hotel blanket, every nerve wired like she was waiting for something else to happen.

But nothing did.

No movement. No words.

Just the quiet.

The room felt thick with it—whatever that had just been. Not just lust. Not just crossing a line. Something deeper. Mutual. Volcanic. Like they’d shared a secret without saying a word.

The mattress shifted.

A quiet rustle of sheets.

Paige got up, wordless. The soft pad of bare feet on carpet. Then the bathroom door opened with a soft click and closed behind her.

Azzi didn’t move.

But she listened to the sound of the fan whirring to life behind the door.

And she knew—Paige was just as wrecked as she was.

Paige 

The second she closed the bathroom door behind her, Paige leaned against it like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Her pulse was still slamming.

She could hear the fan buzzing overhead, the fluorescent light buzzing harder. Everything was too bright, too loud, too real.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen like that.

No—scratch that. She hadn’t meant for it to happen at all.

Paige braced her palms on the sink, eyes fixed on the mirror. She looked flushed, hair a mess, lips bitten raw. Like someone who’d lost a fight.

Her reflection didn’t lie.

Because the truth was, the second Azzi shut that bathroom door and turned the lock, Paige knew.

She felt it. In her chest. In her stomach. Between her legs.

She tried not to listen. Tried not to picture Azzi under the spray of that shitty hotel shower, forehead pressed to the tile, breath going ragged. But the walls were too thin, and Paige’s imagination was too fast.

And once she heard her—really heard her—it was over.

Azzi’s voice, breathless and broken. Saying her name like it still meant something.

Paige had never undressed faster in her life.

And it was pathetic, honestly—how fast she’d come, how badly she wanted it, how her fingers didn’t feel like her own. Like her whole body had been holding it in for weeks.

Paige exhaled and splashed cold water on her face, as if that would help. It didn’t. It just made her flinch.

She looked down at her wrist. The bracelet was still there—pink and purple, snug against her skin, a reminder of everything they were trying to build.

Or protect. Or maybe just survive.

She ran a hand through her hair and stared at her reflection one more time.

There was nothing left to say. Not tonight.

She shut the light off before slipping back into the dark.

****

The Creighton game had gone about as well as it could’ve.

UConn won—tight but controlled, the kind of game that looked better in the box score than it felt in the moment. Azzi hit a step-back three in the second quarter that lit up the bench. It was business. Professional. Locked-in.

The rest of the trip passed in a blur of team meals, ice baths, film sessions, and forced small talk. The hotel room had remained Switzerland—neutral territory, boundaries intact.

They didn’t touch. Not really.

But that didn’t stop the long glances. The slow exhales. The moments when Paige’s hand would brush Azzi’s back while sliding past her in the hallway. Or when Azzi would sit on the edge of the bed to lace her shoes and Paige’s gaze would flick down, just once, and linger too long.

It was a silent understanding.

They were waiting.

And it was torture.

Now they were back on campus.

The cold hit like a slap—sharp and sudden, the kind that made your eyes water even if you weren’t crying. Everyone peeled off the bus in a blur of headphones, oversized hoodies, and half-zipped duffels, rushing toward dorms and off-campus apartments like they’d been gone for years instead of three days.

Paige was halfway across the quad, head down, earbuds in, when she nearly collided with someone rounding the path.

Lexi.

“Oh—hey,” she said, blinking like she hadn’t expected to see anyone. “Didn’t think you guys were back yet.”

Paige yanked one earbud out, her breath catching. “Yeah. Early flight.”

Lexi smiled, easy. Familiar. Like she hadn’t been the shadow at the edge of every thought Paige had tried to ignore for the past two weeks. Her hair was still damp—fresh from a shower or the gym—and her sweatshirt was slipping off one shoulder in that effortless, unbothered way that made Paige’s stomach twist.

“I haven’t seen Azzi,” Lexi said, adjusting the strap of her bag. “I texted her when I saw the flight info online, but she hasn’t answered. She’s been kinda... distant lately? I don’t know. Have you noticed that?”

Paige’s mouth went dry. Her heart did something weird in her chest—like it skipped and then panicked to catch up.

“Oh.” She tried to keep her voice light, casual. “Maybe? We’ve all been kind of swamped.”

Lexi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Totally. I just thought—I don’t know. I figured she’d say something if something was wrong.”

Paige nodded too. Too fast. Too much.

“Yeah,” she said again. “I’m sure she will.”

But the guilt was already there, thick and low in her stomach. Hot under her skin.

Because Azzi hadn’t told her yet.

And now Paige had walked straight into it—into her—like the universe was daring her to lie again.

She stood there, blinking against the wind, while Lexi gave a little wave and started walking the opposite direction.

Paige stayed rooted in place. Cold. Quiet. Drowning a little in the knowing.

Paige waited until Lexi was out of sight before pulling out her phone, her heart still beating in that uneven, guilty rhythm.

She didn’t overthink it.

Paige: just saw lex she asked about you

The reply came almost instantly.

Azzi: planning to talk to her this afternoon

Paige stared at the screen, thumb frozen above the keyboard. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt like she could breathe again. Maybe because Azzi had a plan. Maybe because they were so close now—just one conversation away from finally stepping into whatever this was between them.

It made her chest ache in the best and worst way.

She typed slowly.

Paige: okay just wanted you to know

She watched the three dots appear.

Azzi: i know thanks for telling me

Another pause.

Then:

Azzi: we’re almost there

Paige’s breath caught.

Paige: yeah

She hesitated, then added:

Paige: i can’t stop thinking about you

Azzi: same

Paige smiled—quiet, a little wrecked. Her thumb hovered over the screen.

She didn’t say I love you. But God, it lived in the space between the words.

Paige: see you later?

Azzi: of course

And just like that, Paige tucked her phone back in her pocket and started walking again, the cold biting less than it had before.

Azzi 

Azzi got there first.

She picked a small table near the window—tucked far enough away from foot traffic, but close enough to the exit in case she needed to make a fast escape. The student center café was its usual hum of espresso machines, laptop keys, and group projects being half-heartedly argued over at the next table. It was busy, but not loud. Perfect for pretending to be relaxed. Perfect for quietly breaking someone’s heart.

Her coffee sat untouched in front of her, steam curling upward in ghost-thin ribbons. She’d wrapped her hands around the cup for warmth, but her palms were already sweating.

Lexi showed up two minutes later, all sunshine and post-vacation glow. Hair up in a loose bun, tank top tucked into joggers, a hibiscus scrunchie on her wrist like a final souvenir. Her cheeks were pink, like she’d just walked from the gym—or maybe from being somewhere happy.

“Hey!” she said, sliding into the chair across from her. “Sorry if I smell like sunscreen. I swear it’s permanent now.”

Azzi smiled—small, tight. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah you too,” Lexi said, setting her iced drink down and pulling her chair closer. “You look tired.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. “That’s because I am.”

“I don’t miss road games,” Lexi said, sipping her drink through a bright green straw. “Hawaii ruined me. I forgot what alarms felt like.”

Azzi nodded, eyes flicking to the condensation dripping down the side of Lexi’s cup. “Trip was good?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Lexi leaned back, smile still easy. “We went on this insane sunrise hike—like, full 4 a.m. wakeup call, pitch black trail, almost died twice, but the view was worth it. And the food? Unreal. I ate poke like four times a day. Might turn into raw tuna.”

Azzi smiled again, this one more real. “That sounds amazing.”

“It was.” Lexi shrugged, glanced down into her drink. “I kept thinking how much you would’ve loved it.”

Azzi looked down.

“I even brought you something,” Lexi added, reaching into her bag.

Azzi’s stomach turned. Her fingers curled tighter around her coffee cup, already knowing.

Lexi pulled out a small white box with a gold ribbon, holding it out across the table. “Saw it in this little shop on the North Shore. It felt like you.”

Azzi stared at it for a second too long before reaching for it—carefully, like it might explode.

She opened it.

Inside was a delicate gold chain. A tiny wave charm in brushed silver, barely bigger than her fingernail. It shimmered under the overhead lights.

“It’s beautiful,” Azzi said softly. “But I can’t accept it.”

Lexi blinked. “What?”

Azzi looked up, eyes searching. “I mean it. I shouldn’t.”

Lexi froze, her face flickering—confused first, then quiet.

“Why not?” she asked, even though Azzi could tell she already knew.

Azzi exhaled. “Because I didn’t come here to catch up.”

Azzi looked down at her hands, then back up.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this. I didn’t want to do it over text. You deserve more than that.”

Lexi didn’t move. Her face stayed soft, but her shoulders tensed just slightly.

Azzi kept going.

“I care about you. I really do. But I can’t keep pretending like I’m fully in this. It’s not fair to you. Or me.”

Lexi was quiet. Waiting.

Azzi forced the words out, even though they tasted like guilt.

“I have feelings for someone else.”

There. It was out.

The words hung between them like smoke—visible, choking, impossible to pull back.

Lexi didn’t react at first. She just stared, lips slightly parted, like she was still waiting for the punchline.

Then she exhaled. Slow. Her jaw flexed, and her mouth pulled into a tight, practiced line. She nodded once, mechanical. Like she’d rehearsed this exact scenario a dozen times in her head and now that it was happening, she had to stick to the script.

“Okay,” she said, voice even but clipped. “Thanks for being honest.”

Azzi felt her throat close. Her hands were clenched in her lap now, gripping the edge of her sweatshirt like it might keep her from unraveling.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she said, quiet.

Lexi gave a small, breathy laugh. Not kind. Not cruel. Just… exhausted.

“Right,” she said. One word, razor-thin.

Azzi flinched.

But something about the way she said it made her freeze.

Lexi reached for her cup. Her fingers wrapped around it slowly, deliberately. She didn’t sip it. Just held it. Staring down at the lid like she was waiting for permission.

“You know,” she said finally, “I was really hoping I was wrong.”

Azzi blinked. “What do you mean?”

Lexi stood up. Smooth. Graceful. The kind of calm that only meant one thing: something had cracked and she was holding it together with sheer will.

“That it wasn’t her,” she said. Her eyes flicked down, then back up to Azzi’s face. “But it is, isn’t it?”

Azzi opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Lex—”

Too late.

Lexi tossed the drink.

Not violently. Not in a flurry of rage. Just a single, fluid motion, like she was handing off a baton in a relay.

The cup arced forward and the lid popped off mid-air. Iced caramel cold brew splashed across Azzi’s chest and down her front—sharp and sticky, soaking into the gray cotton of her sweatshirt before she could even react.

The cold hit first. Then the sound.

The ice slid down her stomach. She gasped.

A beat of silence dropped over the café like a curtain. Conversations halted. Chairs scraped. Someone sucked in a sharp breath.

But Lexi didn’t flinch...

 She didn’t apologize. Didn’t rush out in embarrassment or try to play it off.

She just stepped back and leaned in, voice low, razor-sharp.

“Tell her congratulations.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out—shoulders back, head high, not looking back even once.

Azzi sat frozen, dripping coffee and disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled, still half-raised like she could catch the moment before it shattered.

She stared at the door long after Lexi was gone.

And then—quietly, bitterly—she laughed. Just once. Because of course this was how it ended.

Sticky, cold, and completely unforgettable.

Paige

She was lying sideways on her bed, half-scrolling, half-dozing, still in her hoodie from the flight, when the door creaked open.

“P?” came the voice. Soft. Familiar. Weirdly casual.

Paige looked up and immediately bolted upright.

Azzi was standing in the doorway. Soaked. Fully drenched. Coffee-streaked across her sweatshirt, jeans clinging to her legs, one sneaker making a gross squelch sound with every step. There was literally an ice cube stuck to her shoelace.

And she was smiling.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Paige said, staring like she'd just seen someone crawl out of a flood.

Azzi shut the door behind her and shrugged, somehow both smug and exhausted. “Lexi happened.”

“She did this to you?”

“Technically, yeah.”

Paige launched off the bed, her voice already rising. “Are you serious right now?! I will beat her ass. I’m not even kidding. I’ll walk to the student center right now—”

Azzi reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could make it past the desk. “Paige.”

“No, because what kind of psycho throws a drink on someone during a breakup—”

“Paige.” Azzi said again, this time firmer. Still smiling. “It’s fine.”

Paige blinked at her. “You’re smiling.”

“Because it’s over. Like, actually over.”

Paige opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her pulse hadn’t slowed down yet.

“She brought me a gift,” Azzi continued, like they were debriefing after a particularly chaotic group project. “A necklace. Very sweet. Very ironic. I told her I couldn’t accept it. Told her I had feelings for someone else.”

Paige’s stomach flipped.

Azzi didn’t let go of her wrist.

“She figured out it was you,” she said gently. “Threw her cold brew on me. Called it a day.”

Paige stared at her for a second longer—taking in the damp clothes, the little flecks of caramel syrup on her collarbone, the proud look in her eyes that made her chest ache in a way that wasn’t scary anymore.

Azzi leaned forward slightly, voice softer now.

“So yeah. I think I need a shower.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Azzi smirked. “Wanna supervise?”

Paige pretended to think about it for half a second. “Only to make sure you don’t slip and die.”

“Wow. So chivalrous.”

They didn’t break eye contact.

Paige let her lips twitch into a grin, finally. “You’re really sure about this?”

Azzi’s thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And that was all it took.

Paige followed her into the bathroom without another word.

The second the door closed behind them, Paige leaned back against it, watching as Azzi peeled off her soaked sweatshirt with one slow, squelching motion. Coffee had soaked clean through the front—staining the fabric, her sports bra, the waistband of her jeans.

It should’ve looked gross.

But somehow it didn’t.

Somehow it made Paige’s throat go dry.

“Jesus,” Paige murmured, stepping closer. “You really took a whole venti to the chest, huh?”

Azzi laughed, eyes soft. “Battle scars.”

Paige reached out slowly, her fingertip dragging along the edge of a sticky trail just beneath Azzi’s collarbone. The caramel had dried slightly—tacky against her skin, warm from body heat. It shimmered under the overhead light, catching in the hollow just above her chest like something sacred.

Paige followed the line with her eyes, then leaned in without thinking.

Her tongue met skin—hot, sweet, a little salty from the residue of sweat and coffee. She flattened it against the spot and licked a slow, deliberate stripe, pausing to press her lips there like punctuation.

Azzi inhaled sharply, breath catching as Paige’s tongue dragged slowly across her collarbone.

Paige smiled against her skin. “Yup. Definitely a little oat milk in there.”

Azzi laughed—short, breathy, slightly dazed. “You’re disgusting.”

But her fingers slid into Paige’s hair anyway, anchoring her there like maybe she didn’t actually want her to stop.

Paige tilted her head up, lips brushing just under Azzi’s jaw. “Tell that to your pulse.”

And she felt it—wild and reckless beneath her mouth.

Azzi’s breath hitched again.

Paige pulled back just enough to look up at her, smirking. “Caramel. Notes of regret. Bold finish.”

Azzi grinned, eyes dark with want. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Mm,” Paige hummed, licking another line, just below her neck. “Guess I’m lucky you’re into assholes.”

Azzi’s hands were already on her hips, tugging at her jeans. “Help me out of the rest?”

Paige didn’t need to be asked twice.

The clothes came off in slow, deliberate layers—like neither of them wanted to rush, like the undressing itself was its own kind of worship.

Azzi’s long sleeve t-shirt peeled off first, sticky and stubborn, catching at her wrists before Paige tugged it free and tossed it somewhere near the sink. Her sports bra followed, damp from both coffee and heat, and Paige paused—just for a moment—to breathe her in.

Then she started kissing.

The curve of Azzi’s shoulder. The dip just beneath her collarbone. The swell of her breast, soft and warm and rising unevenly with every breath. Paige kissed her there, then lower, dragging her lips down the center of her chest, her stomach, leaving a slow trail of heat in her wake.

Azzi didn’t say anything, just watched with parted lips, her fingers grazing the hem of her own jeans like she wasn’t sure if she should help or wait.

Paige knelt and unbuttoned them herself. Slid the denim down Azzi’s hips, slow and smooth, until they pooled around her ankles. Her socks were peeled off next—gentle, almost laughably tender—until Azzi stood fully bare in front of her, flushed and shining under the bathroom lights.

Paige looked up at her like she’d just been handed something sacred.

The steam from the shower started to fog the mirror, and still, Paige hadn’t looked away.

“You’re really gonna stand there fully dressed while I get in?” Azzi asked, stepping into the tub.

“I’m savoring the view,” Paige said. “And also considering how mad I’d be if you slipped and cracked your head open before I get to kiss you properly.”

Azzi reached back, tugged at her hand. “Then come do something about it.”

Paige was out of her clothes in seconds, tossing them somewhere behind her without looking. The moment she stepped into the shower, steam curled around her like breath, the hot water hitting her spine in sharp, rhythmic bursts—and Azzi was already there. Wet and flushed and waiting.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Their bodies collided like tension finally snapping—urgent, electric, mouths crashing together as hands grabbed, pulled, clutched. Azzi’s fingers slid down Paige’s back, digging in, pulling her impossibly close. Paige groaned into the kiss, opening her mouth to let Azzi in—tongues tangling, breaths coming fast.

Azzi’s thigh pressed up between Paige’s legs, deliberate this time, and Paige gasped, her body arching forward like it had been waiting for that exact pressure. She ground down instinctively, chasing it, hands roaming Azzi’s slick skin—shoulders, spine, hips. Her grip landed on Azzi’s ass, squeezing hard enough to draw a hiss from her throat.

Water beat down around them, but it didn’t matter. Paige kissed along Azzi’s jaw, then lower, teeth scraping over the pulse in her neck, and Azzi whimpered—soft and helpless.

“I’ve wanted this,” Paige rasped, dragging her mouth back up to kiss her, slow and filthy, “so fucking bad.”

Azzi leaned in until their foreheads touched, voice barely audible over the water. “Then take me.”

She wrapped a leg around Paige’s waist, guiding her, breath hot and shaky. Paige pinned her gently against the tile, one hand gripping Azzi’s thigh, the other sliding between them, slipping lower until Azzi’s breath hitched and her whole body jolted.

“You’re already mine,” Paige breathed, fingers finding her heat but skimming just shy of where Azzi needed her most—drawing out the want until it was unbearable. 

Azzi nodded, trembling. “Then don’t stop.”

And Paige didn’t stop.

The water poured down around them in steady sheets, soaking their hair, cascading over skin already flushed and trembling. Steam curled around their tangled limbs like silk, cloaking them in heat and want. Paige didn’t rush—she took her time, kissing along Azzi’s jaw with slow intent, letting her lips linger against each pulse point, feeling the way Azzi’s breath stuttered against her cheek.

She trailed lower, tongue sweeping down the graceful line of Azzi’s throat, tasting sweat and water and something sweeter—something undeniably hers. Azzi tilted her head back, offering more, a breathy moan escaping as Paige kissed down the curve of her neck, her collarbone, each dip and hollow mapped out like a secret trail she was hellbent on memorizing.

Paige’s hands skimmed along Azzi’s waist, gripping her just above the hips to anchor her in place as her mouth moved to her chest. She kissed the swell of her breast first—soft and slow—then opened her mouth wider, tongue circling a nipple already peaked from the heat and anticipation.

When her teeth grazed over it—just a little scrape, just enough—Azzi gasped, her knees threatening to buckle. Paige sucked her in, mouth hot and open, letting her lips drag, tongue flicking and teasing in gentle, maddening patterns until Azzi was panting, her fingers curled tight in Paige’s hair.

Then Paige latched on harder, sucking until she felt Azzi shudder, her breath hitching with every pull. She wanted to leave a mark—something tender and bruised and unmistakably hers. A soft bruise blooming under her mouth, proof of this moment. Of how much she wanted her.

She switched sides with a low groan, worshipful in the way she kissed the other breast—twin trails of fire left in her wake, tongue and teeth working until another deep, purpling mark surfaced beneath her lips. Azzi trembled, head falling back against the tile with a thud, thighs tightening around Paige’s hips as the warmth from her mouth melted straight through her.

Every nerve in her body felt raw and awake, like she’d been lit from the inside out—claimed, adored, marked.

Paige looked up, smirking through the wreckage. “You’re so desperate for me, huh?” she murmured, lips brushing warm against her skin. “All that just from taking my time?”

Azzi nodded, dazed, eyes heavy-lidded. “I—yeah. God, yes.”

Paige smirked, lowering her mouth again. “Then hold on, baby. I’m not even close to done.”

She kissed her way down again, slower this time, savoring the way Azzi’s breath hitched with every inch she moved. Her tongue traced along the curve of Azzi’s waist, then lower, teeth grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh until Azzi whimpered and shifted, trying to get her where she needed her most.

Paige didn’t budge.

Instead, she pressed a kiss just beside her center—close enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. Then another. And another. Lazy, open-mouthed kisses that made Azzi writhe, her hands threading tighter in Paige’s hair.

“Paige,” she whispered, voice cracking, “please.”

“Please what?” Paige asked, her tone maddeningly calm, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “You gotta tell me.”

Azzi looked wrecked—flushed, panting, her thighs trembling where they bracketed Paige’s shoulders. “Touch me. Please, I—need you.”

That earned her a groan, low and wrecked, like Paige had been waiting to hear it.

“Good girl,” she whispered, and finally gave in.

She dragged her tongue up once—slow, flat, indulgent—then eased two fingers inside, deep and unhurried. The stretch was instant, perfect, Azzi’s head falling back against the tile with a gasp as Paige filled her.

Her hand moved with confident rhythm, curling just enough to brush that spot that made Azzi jolt, hips twitching involuntarily. Paige kept the pressure steady, her palm grinding against Azzi’s clit in tight, deliberate circles, coaxing out every stuttered gasp and choked moan like it was her favorite song.

Azzi’s back hit the tile again with a hard thud this time, the coolness of it a shocking contrast to the heat building low and fast inside her. But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t care. She was too far gone—too caught in the thick, pulsing wave of sensation to register anything except the way Paige’s fingers filled her, moved inside her, fucked her with a rhythm that felt like possession.

Her breath hitched, hands flying down to tangle in Paige’s hair, gripping tight, like she needed her closer—like she couldn’t take how close she already was. “Fuck,” she gasped, voice cracking. “Paige—”

Paige didn’t stop. She had one hand wrapped firmly around Azzi’s thigh, keeping her steady, while the other slid up to press against her lower stomach, holding her in place as her mouth worked her open—slick, steady, relentless. Azzi clung to her through it, fingers threading deeper into Paige’s soaked hair, her thighs trembling on either side of her head as she tried to ground herself, to survive the slow undoing of her body coming apart, one stroke at a time.

“You gonna come for me just like this?” she murmured, breath brushing sensitive skin. “On my mouth, like you were made for it?”

Azzi whimpered, hips jerking forward. Paige licked her again, slower this time, deliberately messy, before adding, “You taste so fucking good, baby. I could stay down here all night.”

She kissed her clit gently, then sucked—just hard enough to make Azzi cry out again. “Come on,” Paige whispered, voice low and rough. “Give it to me. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

And then her tongue was back—deeper, firmer, devastating—all wicked precision and praise.

Azzi’s head dropped back against the wall with a soft thud, a strangled moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she begged, the words breaking apart on her tongue.

Paige didn’t answer with words. She just hummed low against her—deep, satisfied, possessive—and the vibration shot straight through Azzi’s core like a lightning strike.

That was it.

Azzi cried out—sharp and breathless—and her whole body arched, legs tightening around Paige’s hips. She was so close, the pressure building too fast, her thighs shaking. Every thrust of Paige’s fingers sent another wave crashing through her, her body rocking between the hard tile and the relentless pleasure of Paige’s touch. Her stomach clenched, breath coming in short, desperate gasps, and her nails raked down Paige’s back, needing something to hold onto—anything to tether her to the moment.

Her vision blurred at the edges, heat coiling tighter with every stroke. “I can’t—Paige, I—” she tried, but the words fell apart as her hips jerked forward again, chasing the inevitable.

Paige gave one last slow lick, then pulled back, her breath hot against Azzi’s inner thigh. She kissed her way upward—soft, lingering trails of heat along her stomach, her ribs, her chest—until they were face to face again, both of them flushed, breathing hard.

She pressed their foreheads together, breath ragged, fingers still deep—but no longer slow. Her pace quickened, thrusts sharper now, more insistent. Each movement hit harder, deeper, sending jolts through Azzi’s entire body. Paige shifted her weight, grounding herself, grinding her palm against Azzi’s clit in tight, deliberate circles that made Azzi gasp and jolt forward.

Her other hand slid around Azzi’s waist, anchoring her against the wall as her fingers curled just right—over and over—relentless now, chasing the tremble in Azzi’s thighs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Paige whispered, voice low and gutted, her mouth brushing the edge of Azzi’s lips. “Feel how close you are? Don’t fight it.”

Azzi whimpered, breath catching, hips rolling forward into Paige’s hand like she couldn’t help it—like her body had already decided. Paige moved faster, grinding harder, her rhythm precise and punishing in the best way. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, both of them panting, bodies slick and shaking under the spray.

“Just let go for me,” Paige breathed, her thumb flicking against Azzi’s clit with a little more pressure, a little less mercy. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

And Azzi did—hips bucking, mouth falling open as a loud moan tore from her throat, her orgasm crashing through her so hard she nearly slipped. Paige caught her, arm around her waist, holding her upright as she rode it out, crying her name against her mouth. Her entire body shook, legs trembling, nails digging into Paige’s shoulders as wave after wave pulsed through her, blinding and hot and overwhelming. She clung to her like a lifeline, forehead pressed to Paige’s, breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts between broken whimpers.

Paige murmured softly against her skin—nonsense words, tender praise, her voice rough with awe—until Azzi finally went limp in her arms, spent and shivering, completely undone.

Azzi was still shaking when she finally looked up, dazed and flushed, lips swollen from kissing. Her cheeks were flushed with heat, her breath still unsteady, but there was a flicker behind her eyes—something hungry, something certain.

“What about you?” she asked, voice low, fingers drifting down the slick lines of Paige’s stomach, tracing her abs with reverence. She paused just above where Paige was already aching, already soaked for her, her touch featherlight—teasing.

Paige’s breath stuttered. “Azzi—”

“Let me,” Azzi said, voice hoarse, raw, and full of want. “I want to taste you.”

There was no resistance.

Paige let herself be guided gently against the tile, the water cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Azzi dropped to her knees in front of her without hesitation, hands sliding along Paige’s thighs, urging them apart as she leaned in. The sight alone stole Paige’s breath—Azzi, bare and dripping, eyes dark with focus, mouth parted like she was starving.

Azzi kissed up the inside of one thigh, slow and open-mouthed, then the other, letting her tongue drag lightly against damp skin. Paige’s head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping her as her legs shifted wider, heart pounding with anticipation.

When Azzi finally licked up the center of her—long and slow—Paige gasped, one hand flying to her hair, gripping tight as her hips jolted forward. Azzi groaned low against her, the vibration sending sparks through her core, and then she was fully there—mouth open, tongue working in slow, devastating circles, savoring every sound Paige made.

“Jesus—Azzi,” Paige choked out, her voice dissolving into a moan as Azzi’s tongue slipped lower, deeper, licking into her with intention.

Azzi didn’t rush. She took her time, alternating between slow, languid strokes and sharper flicks that made Paige tremble. She sucked gently at her clit, then flattened her tongue against it, licking steady and sure until Paige’s thighs began to shake and her grip in Azzi’s hair tightened.

“You taste so good,” Azzi murmured between strokes, her voice thick with need, lips brushing sensitive skin as she spoke. The heat of her breath, the rasp in her voice—it sent a fresh shiver straight through Paige’s core.

Then Azzi dove back in, relentless now—mouth open, tongue dragging firm and slow, savoring her like she couldn’t get enough. She moved with purpose, focused and hungry, alternating between deep strokes and sharp, devastating flicks that made Paige’s knees buckle.

Paige was falling apart.

Her legs trembled violently, muscles locking and unlocking as she fought to stay upright. She tried to brace herself, one hand scrambling against the tile behind her, the other buried in Azzi’s soaked curls, anchoring her there like she was afraid she’d float away. Her hips rolled forward helplessly, chasing the rhythm of Azzi’s mouth, unable to stop herself.

Her moans grew louder, raw and unfiltered, each one tumbling from her lips like it had nowhere else to go. The wet sounds of Azzi’s mouth working between her thighs—slick, greedy, obscene—only pushed her closer to the edge, made her pulse pound harder in her throat.

“Fuck—Azzi—” she gasped, voice breaking, high and breathless. Her whole body was coiled so tight it almost hurt. “I’m gonna—Jesus, I’m—”

Azzi didn’t let up. Her hands slid beneath Paige’s thighs, lifting one leg over her shoulder, opening her even more, giving her tongue better access as she pushed in deeper, licked harder. The pressure was unbearable—in the best way. Paige could barely breathe. Her head fell back against the wall with a dull thud as her vision blurred, stars blooming behind her eyelids.

The sound she made when she finally came wasn’t a word—it was a cry, wrecked and involuntary, ripped from somewhere deep. Her body jolted forward, hips grinding into Azzi’s mouth as the orgasm tore through her like fire—hot, pulsing, wave after wave until she was shaking so hard she had to be held up.

And Azzi did. One arm locked around Paige’s thigh, the other steadying her lower back, keeping her from sliding down the wall. Her mouth softened but didn’t pull away, coaxing her through it with slow, tender strokes until Paige finally gasped, “Too much—fuck, baby—too much.”

Azzi let her go with one last kiss, lips slick and swollen, chin shining. She rose slowly, eyes locked on Paige’s, and that look—God. It nearly unraveled her all over again.

Dark, intense, reverent.

Paige was still panting, chest heaving, hand braced against the wall, the other falling to Azzi’s waist to pull her in. Their foreheads touched first, then noses, breath shared between them.

Neither spoke at first.

Then Paige tipped her chin up, eyes searching Azzi’s face. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she whispered, voice low, ruined.

Azzi smiled, slow and wicked. “That’s the idea.”

She dragged her fingers lightly down Paige’s spine, stopping just above the curve of her ass, and leaned in again, lips brushing Paige’s ear. “You should’ve heard yourself,” she murmured, voice like smoke. “So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Paige’s breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, trying to catch herself. “Yeah?” she rasped, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her body pulsed in aftershock.

Azzi nodded, voice darkening. “The way you begged? The way you rode my mouth like you were made for it?” She kissed just under Paige’s jaw. “You were dripping for me before I even touched you.”

Paige barely managed to open her eyes. “You’re unreal,” she whispered, wrapping shaky arms around her and pulling her close.

Azzi kissed her—slow and deep, like she hadn’t just brought her to her knees. Like she’d do it again.

“I missed you,” Azzi whispered into her mouth.

Paige nodded, breath still catching. “Me too.”

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, letting the water cool and the silence settle. Paige pressed a kiss to Azzi’s temple, slow and reverent, then looked down at her wrist.

The bracelet was still there. Pink and purple. A little loose from the water.

“Purpose,” she murmured. Azzi smiled, eyes still closed. “Guess we found it.” Paige nodded, her lips brushing Azzi’s jaw. “And I’m not letting go.”

[thecranberriesslut]

Cabin no.5, Pt.2

Summary: After meeting Ghost for the first time, he leaves for a mission, you can’t stop thinking about him when you’re alone but you don’t know that he feels the same way.

Pairing: Simon!Ghost!Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Power imbalance, Degradation, Mean Ghost, Power Dynamics, DubCon, Misogynistic Ghost if you squint, Read at own risk

Notes: Took me a while to get you a second part but goddamn I did it. I did not put this through grammar checkers but only checked myself so might contain errors, english is not my first language.

Pt. 1 here!!!

It had been two weeks since you had arrived. Your superior, Ghost—who you later came to know by the name Simon Riley—had been called out on a mission just a day after you arrived, so you had the cabin all to yourself for a couple of weeks and you were being trained by König.

König wasn't mean, atleast not to your face. He made you do all the required tasks, sure... but he never yelled at you or put his hands on you deliberately. Now this should've been a good thing, a great thing, even—a professional training officer who never degraded you—but no matter the denying, half of those two weeks were spent yearning for Simon. The way he'd tested you on your very first night, the way he flirted with you—or was it flirting?—you didn't know. You were told he would be back sometime this week, and every night as you lay in bed alone, you felt the undeniable heat of excitement fill your lower stomach as you waited for the cabin door to fly open.

The fall had turned from cold to freezing in just a couple of days, training with König during evenings were filled with badly heated cabins and too much burnt coffee to keep you warm and energized. Tonight was no different.

You poured the coffee into a thermos and adjusted your belt, trying to stop it from digging into your skin. König was standing next to you, sipping his coffee in silence. You thought about sparking up a conversation but quickly stopped yourself; he wasn't the kind to chit chat.

For all you know he could've hated you all this time, it's not like he ever voiced his opinions, even in combat, he'd direct you by using a couple of words here and there. Weirdly, that was more effective than him yelling at you full throat.

The faint yellow light inside the cabin illuminated the dark woods surrounding it, you could see a couple of snowflakes hit the window with the wind. You had just finished training but were preparing for the cold, cruel walk back to your cabin and a night of mission planning. They always made the rookies do paperwork at night, a tactic of scaring or degradation, you didn't know.

"I'll head out then." You said, picking your gear up off the floor and making your way to the door.

You were met with a quiet mhmm, before you left.

You could've sworn that it was december already; the wind was loud and obnoxious, throwing icy daggers down your spine with every step you took. The woods were dark and—as much as you didn't want to admit it—scary. You always felt like you were being watched, but tonight... more than ever.

As soon as you stepped your left foot inside the cabin, you felt it... Ghost was back.

You didn't even see him before you hit the light switch, but you could feel him, sense him, smell him. The second you opened the door, you were met with a cloud of cologne, gunpowder, and sweat. And as much as you had waited for Ghost to come back, those nights of not being able to keep still, just thinking of what he might say or do once he got back... here you were, here he was, here you both were. Words unspoken, air so dense it could be penetrated with a knife.

You felt it before he even said anything; he had come back a changed man, a terrifying man. Of course he had this aura about him before he left too, the kind that could make even the tallest of men feel tiny... but something about him was different. He was exuding this quiet, overpowering energy, something deep and dark.

At first you wrote it off as the kind of thing that happens to soldiers on missions, seeing over their limits of horrifying things, doing horrible things... but as soon as he stood up, as soon as he turned his gaze to you and you were met with his darkened eyes and hungry expression, you realized exactly what had made him like this.

"König been training you good?" He asked. It wasn't a question of genuine care or curiosity, no. He was making small talk, possibly to distract you, or something else, you didn't know. But you backed away on instinct, before he could even attempt to follow his question up with a physical movement.

"Yup." You answered.

Silence.

Your eyes were having a conversation of their own, yours travelled onto every single surface of the room except him. His were glued to you, he seemed unable to focus on anything else. When you caught his eyes for a little while, a smirk appeared on his face, he had gotten a taste.

To break the tension, you decided to ask him about his mission.

"All rainbows and peaches, how about you?" He glanced at your neatly made bed. "Been sleeping good all by yourself?" He asked, like he knew something.

You hadn't been sleeping good, you hated sleeping alone, especially surrounded by these horribly lonely woods. You also found yourself yearning for Ghost on the quietest hours of the night. Thinking about the way he had held you in a chokehold when you first arrived and talked to you in that voice—that fucking voice—had helped you fall asleep more times than you'd like to admit.

"Yes, why?"

"You do know that each rookie has an active walkie-talkie in their room when left alone?" He said, so calmly, yet so deviously.

"What?" You yelled in shock. "Isn't that like... an invasion of privacy?"

"We share sensitive information with new trainees on the daily, gotta watch out for spies." He said.

"What the fuck, why wasn't I told?" You said, fuming.

"Well, I could've told you, sure... and I was going to as soon as I got a break on my mission."

"And, Why didn't you?"

"Well then I started hearing these small, tiny, pathetic really, noises during the night." He smirked.

Your eyes widened and you almost choked on your breath.

"Then on some nights, they were followed by quiet, quiet words, and the words really piqued my interest." He started. "Care to recall what word was your favourite during these late-night wake up calls."

Your cheeks turned into a shade of crimson. You wanted to sink into the deepest part of the earth and stay there.

"Please, just don't." You begged, you couldn't take this.

"Oh, Ghost... mmh Ghost!" He mocked the way you had moaned his name while touching yourself when you were alone. But the way he made his voice all breathy and low... really just turned you on more than anything.

”So, you did get a little lonely?” He asked, or, stated.

”Shut up.”

He took a couple of confident steps towards you, you backed up until your back hit the wall behind you; almost knocking a map off the wall.

”You know, I thought about you while I was away.” He said, smiling.

”Why?” You asked. Why would he think about you, you had met him once and he acted like you were the most annoying little girl he’d ever met.

”Because from the moment I first saw you, you’ve invaded every inch of my body and soul.” He confessed.

He was just inches from you when his big hand reached out to touch your face. You flinched away, you weren’t sure if his touch would burn or freeze you.

”I want to devour you, break you… and make you a good fucking soldier.”

Your mouth fell agape, his words were so crude, so mean… they were the hottest thing you’d ever heard.

And suddenly, you heard an alarm sound.

”All units report to the headquarters, we need all troops on call.”

You asked Ghost what this was about, not with your words, but with your eyes.

”You heard the captain.” He groaned, he seemed devastated.

You went to open the door but before you got it open, his hand stopped you. He turned you around and moved his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into him.

At first, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, then… when you didn’t resist, he moved to your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. His lips were soft and tasted of cigarettes and sweat, and somehow that was your favourite taste ever. He kissed you like he was trying to inhale your soul through your mouth, like you were his lifeline.

It didn’t last very long, he pulled away and smirked at the sight of you, red cheeked and panting.

“We have to go, soldier.”

[instead-of-sleeping]

Far, far away from the Cookie Kingdom

“Pomegranate Cookie, if you keep being mean at them, they’ll keep being useless and your plan will fail.”

“How dare you speak to me in manner? You have no right to lecture me.”

“I want to see this team improve, starting off with how you treat your friends.”

“Hmph we aren’t friends, we simply follow our Master’s orders”

“Yeah, but she isn’t here, is she?”,

“She chose you to be her second in command, because she trusted you.”

!!!!

“Get them to love you, or at least like you, and they’ll do anything for you. Show your- our Master how good you are at guiding them.”

She recomposed herself.

“What do you suggest then, I congratulate them? Give each an award for doing the bare minimum?”

“Not exactly. Just try saying nice things.”

“And that actually works?”

“Oh, it works, all right.”

She looked in the surface of her red mirror, searching for something that you couldn’t see or maybe contemplating your words?

“Here, I give you a head start.” You lightly punched her arm.

“WHOA, POMEGRANATE COOKIE! So you think your colleagues are all amazing but you’re afraid to tell them your true feelings?”

The attention in the room shifted on you two, both cookies and cakes previously busy chatting now becoming completely silent.

“What? What are you—”

“What’s that? You think Choco Werehound Brute is the toughest cake in the tower ‘cause he doesn’t take garbage from anyone?”

The priestess narrowed her eyes at your direction, hating the scene that you just caused and the other desserts’ curiosity. She was ready to yell once again but before she could say anything a glimmer appeared on the mirror, she couldn’t go against her Master.

“Uh…Yes. He is… tough. His strength is greatly appreciated.”

“Oh, well, I do brush my mane with a fork. It really hurts.”

“And what were those nice things you said about Bat-Cat?”

“Um… Bat-Cat never missed a day, even when he was sick.”

“And Licorice Cookie?”

“I won’t do Licorice Cookie”

“And Licorice Cookie?”

“Licorice Cookie’s an idiot”

“But, when he makes a mistake, he own it. And he doesn’t stop until he makes things right. And because of that…”

A smile started creeping in your face.

“He has…”

Come on, come on.

“He’s earned my respect.”

“I have?”

“Yes?”

Pomegranate Cookie’s dough colour was getting close to her robes shade which she used to cover her mouth and used the other to dismiss the group.

“D-do not test my patience. You better complete the mission without errors.”

The desserts left the room, whispering among themselves on the new weird but welcomed change in behaviour.

“Well, if you need me you know where to find me” in the kitchen.

“That includes you, Traveler Cookie.”

“Ha ha, w-what you mean?”

“You’ll make sure the mission goes smoothly.”

What?! “But I don’t know how to fight! I mean who is going to prepare dinner? And wasn’t l supposed to stay confined in the castle? And also-”

“I’m aware of your condition and l’ll make sure nothing happens to you,”

“But since you insisted in wanting to see them improve, you shall be the first witness.”

Damn it, you were so close. So close to find out how your new wand works.

“This is an order, do you understand?”

Maybe this could still be beneficial for your research after all you can’t find old relics if you don’t go out.

“Yes, m’am”

A/N: MAGICAL BAKER LORE DROP WHAT!? I have been reworking this Au I'll explain everying in an another post and yes it was inspired by that scene from Amphibia with Sasha and Grime. My school ended (YIPPE!!) but I still have things to do but I'll try to post more have a nice day :3

[rungssparemodelpieces]

Drunk Headcanons

Swerve

* Swerve can handle a few drinks though any bartender worth his salt should be able to handle their own drinks. He’ll water down others drinks but won’t water his down. Depending on your relationship with him, he might not water down yours either! If Swerve gets in a creative mood or gets a hold of some rarer ingredients, he’ll try to make some new concoctions and call you over before the bar opens to test them out. If you’re human, he keeps a stock of human booze or learns how to make his own and have you test them out. There were many trials and errors that may or may not have left you ending up in the medbay due to alcohol poisoning.

* When Swerve allows himself to relax and enjoy a drink or two, he either becomes a more chatty than normal drunk or goes into a more existential crisis drunk mood. Some of his ramblings don’t make sense after a while or he starts to reveal deeper thoughts or conflicts he might have, usually feelings of his own self worth before he tries to cover it up with a joke or smile.

* Swerve is curious what drunk you turn out to be, having experience with any form of drunk or buzzed with the exception of flirty. Yeah, he’s turned down flirty bots and humans before but if he had feelings for you, it makes it harder to not take those to spark, hoping the booze is bringing those true feelings to the surface.

* There’s a guilty pleasure Swerve takes when he’s watching you from behind the counter, seeing you dance, laugh, cry, talk, sing karaoke, play games, and enjoying yourself but when you make your way over to his little corner, chatting with him, and he’s the one making you laugh, smile, and even blush though he thinks it might be from the drinks in your system.

* If you start to get a little too wobbly, Swerve will get Ten to take you back to your room but if it’s close to or is closing time, he’ll take you back himself. It’s when he’s taking you back that some of the more suggestive flirting happens and though he would love to, he has a responsibility as a bartender to make sure you’re safe but that’s not to say his fans don’t click on or his panels heat up. If you’re already in a relationship, drunk interfacing does happen but it stays in the berth… mostly. If only Ultra Magnus knew, he’d shut down Swerve’s again for “a failure to comply with bio-hazard safety laws” and “inappropriate use of a barstool” and the list just goes on and on!

[capricorn-writes2]

Ganz Sans, Reaper Sans, Error Sans and Toxic Sans Helping S/O with Their Homework

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Hey Lil's! Long time not chatting, and I'm happy that I finally can talk to you again after everything, and thank you so much for being a great friend and a great reader! I'm so happy that you read my book ^.^

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities

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Ganz - GZTale

Ganz doesn’t talk much, but his presence speaks volumes. He pulls up a chair beside you, arms crossed, eyes scanning the page like a detective at a crime scene. “That’s wrong,” he mutters, pointing silently to your third mistake.

If you're stressed, he gets uncharacteristically gentle. His gloved hand rests lightly over yours, grounding you when your brain starts spiraling.

Ganz makes sure you're taking care of yourself too. “Get up. Drink water. Stretch,” he commands like a mob boss giving orders. You grumble, but he already brought you your favorite snack without asking.

He sits through your long study rants with surprising patience. You’re rambling about the mitochondria or Shakespeare or whatever’s on the test. Ganz just nods occasionally, eyes narrowed with pretend interest.

He hates messy notes, so he rewrites yours when you’re not looking. He would be handing back your cleaned-up notebook. Every word is written in blocky and clean lettering.

Ganz never mocks you for asking questions. You used to be afraid of sounding dumb until you saw the way he looked at you. Like you were smart just for trying.

He secretly keeps a copy of your schedule so you will not forget to work on your homework or study. He also uses it to bring you snacks or send a quick message when he knows you’re stressed.

You once caught him reading your textbook when he thought you were asleep. He tried to play it off like he was bored, flipping through pages casually. But you noticed he was on the same chapter you were struggling with earlier.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The room was quiet except for the ticking clock and the soft scratch of pencil against paper. You sat hunched over your desk, lips pressed tight in frustration as your latest homework sheet glared up at you like it had a personal vendetta. Formulas danced across the page like nonsense poetry, and the longer you stared, the more it felt like they were mocking you.

With a sigh, you let your head drop onto the desk. “I’m gonna lose it,” you mumbled. A gentle knock tapped once at your door—rhythmic, even. You already knew who it was. “Come in,” you muttered, not even lifting your head. The door creaked open, and in stepped Ganz, eyes dim but alert, expression unreadable as always.

He didn’t speak right away. He just took a long look at the scattered notes, the tensed curve of your shoulders, and the textbook thrown to the side like a battlefield casualty. “You’re overthinking it again,” he said quietly. It carried that calm weight, like it didn’t matter how chaotic the world was, he wasn’t moving.

He stepped closer, pulling out your second chair and sitting beside you. His bones creaked softly as he leaned forward, resting one hand on the desk while the other tapped near your worksheet. “Show me where you’re stuck.” You hesitated. Ganz wasn’t exactly a tutor type. He was more the quiet protector, the silent observer. But he always seemed to know when to show up and when to stay.

You slid the paper toward him and pointed at the question that had been giving you grief for the past twenty minutes. He stared at it for a long second, sockets narrowing. “You forgot to flip the sign when you moved that variable; start there," he said, tapping gently on the part you scribbled repeatedly with his finger.

As you erased and rewrote, Ganz didn’t hover. He stayed still beside you, his presence calm and steady like a mountain beside a storm. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was comforting. You risked a glance at him as you solved the next step correctly, and though his expression hadn’t changed, his gaze flicked to yours briefly. “There you go,” he said, his voice just slightly softer.

Time passed in steady breaths and pencil scratches. You’d stopped noticing how hard the homework was. Every time you paused, Ganz was there, pointing out a mistake, nodding when you got it right, and sliding your water bottle closer when your focus started to drift. He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. Just being there made the weight in your chest ease.

Eventually, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head with a groan. “I actually finished it,” you said, half in disbelief. Ganz let out a short, low chuckle. "Told you. You get too cold when you focus. You forget stuff like that," he said, standing up and pulling your blanket from the bed. Without a word, he draped it over your shoulders.

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❀

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Reaper Sans - Reapertale

Reaper doesn’t knock when he comes in to help. He just silently appears in your room, shadows curling in the corners, and asks, “Need help?” in that soft, hollow voice. It still startles you every time, but he never means to scare you.

Reaper doesn’t fully sit down. He’ll float slightly above the chair, cloak curling under him, hands tucked in his sleeves until he needs to point something out.

He’s actually very methodical. Despite his chaotic world, Reaper’s mind is organized; he understands structure, sequences, and cause and effect well. That makes him great at breaking things down, especially in subjects like math or science.

He uses metaphors when teaching. Instead of saying, “Subtract this,” he might say, “Remove the weight from this side to balance the soul.” It’s dramatic, yes. But you kind of love it. Makes algebra feel like spellcasting.

Reaper is not great with technology. If your homework involves typing or online submissions, he’ll kind of… float behind you, squinting at the screen, muttering things like “Why does this rectangle glow and beep?”

Sometimes Reaper Sans reads your textbooks aloud in that soft, eerie tone. It somehow makes even boring history sound like ancient lore or when biology sounds like he's casting a spell.

If you stay up too late, he’ll phase through the wall holding tea. He’ll close your books with one hand and offer you the warm cup with the other. You’ve learned not to argue; he’s always right about your limits.

He doesn’t smile often, but when you get something right on your own, he looks at you like you’re the only light in the Underverse. “You shine brighter than most souls I’ve collected,” he murmurs with a soft smile.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The glow of your desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, the only source of light in the otherwise dim space. You stared at your homework sheet, your pencil hovering over the page, but your thoughts were scattered, too tired to focus. The numbers swam before your eyes, mocking you.

You’d been at it for hours, and it felt like you were getting nowhere. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands. "I can't do this anymore," you wanted to cry and just dump it in the trash can. This subject isn't really your forte.

Suddenly, a soft, chilling air ran through the room, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Before you could look up, the shadows in the corner of your room shifted, and there he was, Reaper Sans, standing just beyond your desk, his glowing eyes fixed on you. You jumped, not expecting him to appear.

He simply tilted his head, as if he already knew exactly what was happening. “You’re stuck,” he said, his voice calm and detached but with an underlying thread of understanding. You looked up at him, momentarily taken aback by his presence.

His voice was calm and kinda echoey, like death itself but not scary. Well, not that scary anymore. “Gee, thanks for the observation, Mr. Grim Reaper,” you muttered, rolling your eyes and flopping back dramatically in your chair. He didn’t react. He never really did. But somehow, you could see the tiny smirk under that skeletal face.

Without saying another word, he floated closer, pulling up your chair with a flick of his hand like he wasn’t even touching it. He leaned over the page, scanning your messy numbers. “You forgot the negative here,” he said, pointing it out like it was obvious. You blinked. “Wait, that’s why it wasn’t working? Ughhhh.”

Reaper nodded like a tired tutor who’s been through this a thousand times. “Math is like balance. You tip it wrong, it crumbles.” You squinted at him. “That’s… morbidly poetic. Kinda cool, actually,” You always know how poetic he is. Little by little, he helped you walk through each step. He didn’t rush you. Didn’t sigh when you made mistakes. He j

He just calmly pointed at the page and gave short, super cryptic explanations like 'Restore the balance between life and death' or 'Shift the soul to the other side of the realm' kind of explanation. Was he still talking about math? Who knows? But weirdly, it helped making you understand the homework more.

You started figuring it out. Like, for real this time. The numbers weren’t swimming anymore, and your brain didn’t feel like it was on fire. At one point, you looked over and caught Reaper just… watching you. Quietly. His head tilted a bit like he was reading something deeper than your homework. “You’re catching on fast,” he said, barely above a whisper.

The last problem took some time, but when you finally solved it, you legit gasped. “I did it!” you said, turning to him with a big grin. Reaper didn’t smile, he never did but his eyes glowed a little warmer. “Told you,” he murmured. And for a second, you could see a very tiny smile on him.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

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Error Sans

He pretends to hate homework and grumbles about how it’s a waste of time, but when he sees you stressed out, he glitches next to you with a sigh and helping you.

His glitching increases when he’s concentrating, especially when the question is really tricky. He pauses mid-answer to reboot his thoughts, and you have to wait while he growls.

He helps in his own weird way, like rewriting practice problems but turning them into monster battles or weird AU-themed questions. “If a Glitchtale dragon eats four timelines, how many universes are left?” It’s ridiculous, but it makes you smile.

If you’re tired, he wraps a blue string around your wrist and tugs gently. “Break time. I don’t care what page you’re on.” You resist at first, but he scoops you up and plops you in a glitchy beanbag he made from nowhere.

He sometimes glitches your calculator and “improves” it by making it shout your answers out loud. It’s weird, chaotic, and almost gave you a heart attack. “2x2 is FOUR! YOU’RE WELCOME!” The calculator schout as he cackles. You threaten to ban him from electronics for a week.

He creates a mini glitched clone of himself as your tutor. It zips around yelling answers and giving sass, and you can’t tell if it helps or distracts you. “My glitch gremlin is smarter than your entire class,” Error says proudly. You’ve named it “Error's Gremlin”

If you fall asleep mid-assignment, Error doesn't wake you right away. He wraps you in his string and quietly finishes the rest of the page for you. Your handwriting is suspiciously neater. He pretends it wasn’t him, but you find a little glitchy heart drawn in the corner.

He won’t say the words “I’m proud of you,” but every time you complete something, he spawns confetti or hands you a pixel heart. It’s his way of saying he’s proud, because emotions are hard, okay?

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

It started with your head slumped over the desk, pencil halfway falling out of your fingers, and your textbook looking like it had just declared war on your brain. The numbers weren't math anymore. They were alien code from some forgotten dimension. "I’m gonna dropkick this homework out the window.” You groan, mumbling the math homework is too difficult.

And that’s when he showed up with a half-glitch, half-snort from across the room. Error appeared behind your chair with a loud buzzing sounds and a whole lot of judgment in his eyes. “Y’know, for a human with a brain, you sure act like you ain’t got one sometimes,” he teased, leaning on the back of your chair.

You didn’t even flinch anymore. You just sighed, nudging the worksheet toward him. “This stuff’s melting my soul," You wave the paper in front of his face. “Oh boo hoo, tragic,” he said with a lazy grin, eye flickering. “Move over, nerd. I’m not lettin’ my favorite disaster flop today," he stood next to you.

When he floated closer, leaning over your shoulder to get a look at the chaos you’d created. He tapped the paper with one long finger, his eye glowing as he scanned the problem. “Look,” he said, “this part's easy.” You blinked, trying to follow the logic he was laying out. “What… do you mean easy? This looks like alien code,” you roll your eyes. Error let out a tiny, annoyed chuckle. “Not even close. Let me break it down," His voice was smoother now, less sarcastic, as he started explaining things step-by-step.

You hadn’t realized how much you were actually starting to understand until the tension in your chest began to ease. “Okay,” you muttered, frowning at the problem again. “But, like, how is this supposed to make sense? Why do I need to know this? I don’t even like math!” You shouted. Error snorted, shaking his head. “I dunno, kid. Maybe the multiverse wants you to suffer, or maybe it's just a useless system that's been coded into your brain.” His voice turned teasing, but there was an underlying sense of care that you couldn’t quite place.

You followed his instructions as best you could, your confidence slowly building as his explanations made more sense. When you finally solved the problem, you let out a triumphant laugh. “I did it! I actually did it!” Error’s eye glinted in a way that almost looked like pride. “Huh. Looks like you’re not totally hopeless after all," he chuckles without any malice in it.

Of course, your celebration was short-lived. “Now, next question,” Error said, moving on without a second glance at your victory dance. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.” You groaned, but his low chuckle made you smile. Despite his gruffness, there was something oddly comforting about him being there, guiding you through your work. Even if he was a giant glitchy mess.

By the time the homework was done, the clock on your desk had long since ticked past midnight. You slumped back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. "I think I’m gonna need a nap after that," you muttered. Error stood beside you, tapping his foot as if waiting for something. "Tch. You should be thanking me for saving your sorry self from total academic destruction."

He was right, though. Without him, you probably would’ve been stuck in a mental loop for hours. “Thanks, Error,” you said quietly, smiling at him as he floated there, looking like he was about to vanish into the shadows. His eye flickered for a second, a softer tone slipping through. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just-don’t make a habit of needing me for everything, alright?”

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Toxic Sans - Pollutiontale

Image Source: MidNightblogger (Deviantart)

Toxic Sans initially acts like he couldn’t care less about your homework, lounging with his feet up. “Ugh, homework? Can’t you just, like, pollute your brain with Netflix instead?” But the second you struggle, he shrugs and drags himself over, rolling his eyes.

Toxic leans over your shoulder, muttering, “You really let this junk pile up, huh?” He taps the paper with a bony finger, leaving a faint green glow around the margins. He acts like it’s a burden, but the little smirk betrays his interest in being close to you.

When you’re stuck on a math problem, he drifts over, his neon glow flickering with concentration. With a rough tap on the paper, he reorders your equations.

Toxic has a habit of drawing little toxic slime doodles on your worksheets. Sometimes they "talk" to each other in speech bubbles. You scold him playfully, but honestly, they make the homework more fun.

If you're too anxious to start, he doesn’t pressure you. He just sits quietly beside you, oozing chill energy. Eventually, the silence feels safe enough that you begin.

When he notices you're too tense, he forms a small toxic slime blob that are actually harmless to your skin. It wiggles on your desk and tries to high-five you or tries to hug your arms.

Toxic isn’t great with words, but when it comes to explaining a hard concept, he’ll break it down in the simplest way. It’s not the cleanest metaphor, but it clicks in your head. You nod in understanding.

After all the work is done, Toxic will act like he didn’t help you at all. “Pfft. You’d have done it without me. Don’t get all sappy now.” But the small, proud smile he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking says it all.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

It was the kind of rainy afternoon that made your brain feel soggy, too. You had a mountain of homework spread across your desk, and your brain felt like it had turned to literal mush. Math problems were swimming in your head, and your fingers hovered over your pencil, frozen. You groaned and smushed your cheek against the desk. “This is hopeless.”

From the window, a dark glitch flickered in and out of sight before finally materializing in the corner of your room. “Homework? Ew,” said Toxic Sans, dragging his words out like they tasted bitter. His skull glowed faintly green under your desk lamp. He leaned lazily against your bookshelf, like just being near your homework might kill him. You peeked up at him with a whimper. “Please help. I swear this worksheet is evil.”

Toxic sighed dramatically, plopping into your bean bag chair like a pile of toxic sludge. “Alright, but only because I’d rather not listen to you whine for the next hour.” He kicked his feet up, snapped his fingers, and summoned a floating calculator from the air. “Let’s melt some numbers, babe.”

His way of explaining math was… unconventional. “Imagine this number’s a gas leak, and this other one’s a match. What happens when they meet? Boom. You got a disaster. Which, apparently, is also the answer.” You roll your eyes at his ridiculous explanation despite yourself. It was weird, but it worked as the clogs in your brain finally move.

Slowly, the fog in your brain started to clear. When you got stuck on a science question, he glitch-warped right behind you and pointed over your shoulder. “You keep reading it like it’s complicated. It’s literally asking how pollution happens. Just write ‘humans exist’ and boom—accurate.” Well, he was right, shitty people cause the pollution since many people throw many dangerous waste to ocean.

You rolled your eyes, but somehow, his ridiculous suggestions gave you an idea. As much as it was a joke, you spun his words into an angle that worked for your paper. “I can’t believe I’m actually using your weird advice,” you muttered, smiling despite yourself. Toxic gave a lazy shrug. “Hey, you’re welcome. Don’t forget to cite me as your ‘genius’ source.”

By the time you finished, it was late. The clock blinked 1 AM, and you leaned back in your chair, exhausted but relieved. “I actually did it. I’m done,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. Toxic stood up and stretched, giving you one last glance. “Tch. You’re welcome, I guess. Don’t forget who saved your homework.” You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth in your chest. “Thanks, Toxic,” you said, your voice quieter. He smirked again. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to it, kid.”

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

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[sagesskies]

just played Binary Star Hero, loved it, amazing, chefs kiss, Hals can take my heart and soul. Love them sooo much.

And an idea just struck me: Awkward Yandere Hero who is also your ex, meanwhile you're the guy who manages his tech.

The guys running the agency wanted him to be presented as the perfect, ideal man, and in this heteronormative world, the ideal man was straight, so they had him start dating another superhero. You got that, you could handle that, but what pissed you off was that he couldn't at least fight for your relationship when the higher-ups wanted him breaking up with you.

so you take the initiative, and don't let him keep beating around the bush, and break things off first. Good riddance honestly, what need do you have of a man who wasn't even willing to fight for you?

You keep working for the same agency, managing their tech, fixing it up after any errors, making sure everything runs in tip, top shape. But you refuse to do anything for him, no. They can get somebody else to do that.

everytime you two speak, it's always tense. him, the 'strong' 'virile' and 'masculine' hero practically cowering before you, the glorified tech support.

"Uh, h-hey [Name]!"

"... Helios."

"How... how are you?"

"I'm fine. What do you want?"

"Uh. To talk?"

"... Leave."

"I just want to chat-"

"Now."

"Okay. Goodbye. Take care. Love you- I mean, uhhhh, t-take care- Wait shit I already said that- Uh. Uh. Bye!"

Your colleagues tell you to pity him more, he had no choice you know? The agency paid his bills, they gave him a job, they were the reason why he wasn't taken to the government testing labs and made a labrat like all the other non-hero superpowered humans. So he was in no position to say no to their demands.

So were you supposed to pity him? To constantly let him do whatever he wanted? Let him miss all the dates, the dinners, to focus more on work than your relationship? Were you supposed to pity him when he didn't bother to explain himself when pictures were released of him going into a hotel room with some model? To let it slide without a single explanation?

You have too much respect for yourself.

When you try to hit the dating scene again, to be able to fully solidify that you are truly moving on from your ex... but for some reason, said ex always ruins everything?!

every single place you take your dates, it's suddenly infested with your ex's fanclub as hundreds of people all clamor around, disrupting others as they all try to at least look at the famed hero Helios who was reported to have been sighted, just your luck, in your general area!

and not to mention, what happens when he decides to approach you in public, while your on a date, and the other guy just so happens to be a big fan of his and all of a sudden you're just tossed aside as your date gets his fucking forehead signed by your ex.

and still, still, he has the audacity to try to strike up a conversation with you.

"Hey, [Name]!" Helios- No, Hollis, greets you cheerfully.

You don't bother to respond, focusing on fixing the dents in Liquid Steel's metal suit. Slamming the hammer down on the outward dents, grunting when you accidentally move the dent inward and use the dolly to fix it.

Hollis, hesitantly, comes closer to you. Despite the fact that you were holding a hammer, he wasn't afraid. You know that he's sturdy and durable, more than other supers, but he is still flesh and bone. If you caught him off guard...

"So, uh, since the other mechanics are a bit busy... I was wondering, could you-"

"I won't, Helios," You glare at him, "Just wait for one of them to come back or something."

Hollis chuckles awkwardly, "Ah, well, I'll actually be needing it fixed soon," His eyes wander around your workspace, before going back to focus on you, eyes a brilliant gold, "I'm... gonna be sent on a mission."

You recall when he'd miss your anniversary dinner, and told you he had to be called out for an emergency extraction. He was fidgeting the entire time, hand rubbing at his neck where you saw lipstick stains that he was doing a shit job at hiding.

Looking at him now, you can tell he's lying the same way he was back then. But for different reasons now.

"No." You say with finality.

"But-"

You drop your hammer, and grab him by the collar of his shirt. Pulling him closer till your foreheads were pressed against each other. His eyes widen, and he gulps.

"I said no," You snarled, spit flying against his face, "Why can't you fucking get that into your thick skull, hm?"

Your hands grasp tighter onto the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it off, "You've been a right fucking creep, yknow?" You give him a cruel, crooked grin, "I know what you're doing- You've been fucking stalking me, haven't you?"

"[Name], I-"

Maybe it's the stress from work, the breakup, the failed dates, Hollis himself, his mere presence being enough to tip you over the edge. Whatever it is, you snap.

"Shut up!" You scream at Hollis, "I hate you- I hate you so, so, so much!"

More than you hated Hollis, you hated the situation. It's more than just sabotaging your love life, and always bothering you with his awkward small talk, you wished he started trying before you ended it. You wished it didn't take you leaving for him to beg for you to come back.

You feel like the gear that you're in charge of fixing. Some heroes take care of theirs like it's their baby, always careful, but never getting enough work done because of it. Some are able to tolerate it getting damaged, and do their duty. But some? Some are willing to let it suffer intense damage, nearly become irreparable, all for the sake of their job.

Hollis is like that, you think. He let your relationship decay, rot, and fester, till it became nothing more than a shell of what it used to be. But you were too tired to fix it. Why bother anyway? You were old news, software that needed to be updated. So like any person with common sense, Hollis got an update.

Your face grows warm, you think it is from the shame for your outburst, before you realize it is also wet, and that you are actually crying. You don't want to, but you slump against his chest, and bury your face into the warmth of his shirt.

You beat weakly at his chests, "I hate you... I hate you Hollis." You sob.

Hollis shifts, you think he's about to pry you off, but then you sense a familiar presence over your back, and then a hesitant, but comforting hand is rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"It's... It's okay [Name]," His voice is shaky, and you think he's crying too, "No matter how much you hate me, I'll always love you."

[baneonono]

watch house for the first time with me

season two episodes 11-20. were just gonna have to ignore spelling errors and stuff because I take these notes while it is very late at night. also if I’m wildly mischaracterizing the characters, it’s because I like it better and yes I am afraid that is how I watch tv shows. canon is whatever I want it to be, especially when I’m sleep deprived

11

“We need to talk about this” Wilson says like it’s his marriage that house is breaking up. I do love how invested Wilson is in Houses love life 

Wilson going to Stacy to yell at her is so iconic. I love my loyal man. Big puppy dog energy. 

“I can hear you caring” I love house. 

Wilson this episode: yelling at all parties involved in an affair, overly investing in other people’s romance, preparing drugs for patients to take, spilling everyone’s beans, trying to help everyone

I’m obsessed with how well house, Wilson, and stacy know each other. Mostly with how well house knows Stacy, Cuddy and Wilson. And then how well Wilson knows house

“You love me more” shut up shut up shut up house shut your face please 

Ughhhhhhh why are we doing this house and Stacy 

House did not just tell Cameron that he loves her. The way she flinched. 

The ultimatum house just gave Stacy-

So many things are happening that I want to scream about. Okay house with the kid is adorable in the exact opposite way Chase is adorable with kids. Because house is that person that kids love despite how unlikable he is and Chase kids love because of how likable he is and I just love them both. Also Stacy going to Cuddy the second she has house problems is amazing. I need more of them just chatting. When all of yall are beyond your in love with house phase can I get footage of you girls just gossiping. And can Wilson be there even though he’s the currently in love with house one and he will absolutely tell house everything said in the sacred gossip room. 

OH MY GOD MARK AND HOUSE SHOW DOWN IM SO EXCITED 

Mark going to the ex boyfriend is wild and he went so hard for it. House really just left him, a dude in a wheelchair, on the stairs.

House just can’t condemn mark to the same thing he went through, you heard it first

SAD ROOF BOY RETURNS BUT THIS TIME WILSON GOES TO FIND HIM. I KEEP WINNING

Wilson is really the shows method of moving everyone along emotionally. He’s not the oncology dude, he’s just hospital staff emotional support who happens to do oncology 

I do think that house was right that Stacy shouldn’t leave mark for house. He’s not gonna change, he doesn’t want to, I don’t think he trusts her, it’s better for everyone for her to move on 

12

House really just does whatever he wants and cuddy has to deal with it because he’s too smart

Chase🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 

I love when Wilson clocks house

Wilson: I don’t know him I don’t know him I don’t know him I don’t know him 

Girl- house- why are you testing your rivals drug on yourself, thinking it’s gonna not work

Foreman helping house😭😭😭😭😭😭

The triplets being so accommodating to house with the migraine he gave himself😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bro lying on the ground is such a mood. I adore him

Why why why why am I watching a kid get covered in maggots. Why would someone do that to me and that poor kid. The parents should just say no

Wilson getting house water while also assaulting his senses😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I love that Wilson is simultaneously caring for house and calling him out. What a man. 

This lumbar puncture is giving me anxiety. Like what if we don’t do this actually 

Foreman and Chase are so my second favorite duo in this show. 

House is unreasonably iconic

He’s really just a pathetic man trying insanely hard to not let it be known that he’s pathetic but I see him for what he is

It really is Wilson’s role in the show to tell us what everyone is feeling

13

Is…… is his leg getting worse?

Get house an mri 

Respectfully I don’t care about this girl. Let’s do house is the patient again. This father is stupid but it’s okay

House are you okay

I love that people look to Chase for comfort

House is so unhinged right now and it’s not fun to watch. Baby are you okay. Wilson come get your man what is going on

This episode is so gross

SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG WITH HOUSE 

HOUSE ASKED WILSON FOR HELP

Okay house lashing out everyone was a great moment of humanization for him. Because we all see him as this infallible being 

Wilson pretending to be god is the cutest thing I’ve seen all day. He’s so silly. He’s so silly for house 

Love how Chase goes along with house

JESUS CHRIST HOUSE. YOU NEED TO GO SEE A DOCTOR MY DUDE. HOW ARE YOU NOT GOING TO A DOCTOR. YOUR BEST FRIEND IS ONE. YOUR ENTIRE TEAM IS DOCTORS. YOUR BOSS IS A DOCTOR. YOU ARE ONE. PLEASE GO SEE A DOCTOR

Okay placebo is all well and good but what is wrong with him. I’m so lost. 

Also nonbinary/trans representation in a 2004 show?

14

Just house and Wilson is insulting each other

Living for house shouting at Wilson across the hospital about his sex life and Wilson just assuming it’s about him having an affair

I love when house goes into actually saving a patient mode. Him at work is absolutely spectacular

Wilson was reaching our house. How did you look that in the face of your hurting friend and just say no

WILSON MY BABY BOY

welp I’m sorry baby but at least you get to hang out with your best friend more…

15

I’m betting that house isn’t gonna kick Wilson out

CHASE WAS ACTUALLY GONNA APPLAUD FOR HOUSES JUGGLING 

I’m living for roommates hilson so bad. Please never back him move out 

Absolutely obsessed with Wilson being a good cook and house stealing all of his food 

“Property of James Wilson, trespassers with be prosecuted!” What if he put that sticky note on himself instead of the fridge? Just saying 

Babygirl, if you’re gonna delete Wilson’s voicemails about new apartments, at least get him an air mattress so he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch. Come on man, where’s your manners

16

Okay why did Wilson put the girl in an elevator so house could do something

I LOVE THE PRANKS. IM SORRY IVE BEEN BUSY THIS EPISODE DOING THINGS BUT HOUSE AND WILSON LIVING TOGETHER AND PRANKING EACH OTHER IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN 

I dearly adore roommate hilson. Like so bad

17

That kid in the intro was gonna try to deliver the teachers baby. Also these fake outs as to who is gonna be sick are getting so boring. Girl I don’t care who it is that gets sick, I don’t know any of them. 

House I- he just always has to be messing with Wilson

House making Wilson lose is hilarious. Love everything 

I LOVE WILSON

house tell your boyfriend if you’re doing okay

Wilson says something smart and House falls a little more in love with him 

This episode is insane, kid is dying, matching a case of 70 year old, house is obsessed, house is playing mind games with Wilson, there’s a party, Wilson was called in for an actual consult. What is going on

Wilson just talks and hopes that it triggers something in house. 

I think what this episode taught me is that if house ever loses a case, I will break down

18

I have come to the deeply disturbing realisation that house has become my comfort show since I started watching it

Living for Chase actively doing procedures and Cameron/Foreman asking him for advice during the procedures. Like you guys can’t wait 30 minutes. 

This Ethical Dilemma is so boring. I don’t care at all. 

No one plays along with house’s metaphors like Wilson

How many languages does house speak????

Idk foreman if someone I viewed as a colleague came to me and said that, I wouldn’t push them away like that. Maybe try not to be annoying to Cameron, you do have to work together

19

NO WILSON MOVED OUT WHY NO WHY HAVE I BEEN FORSAKEN

House going to Wilson to rant and then Wilson going to House to rant. I love them

This patient is freaking everyone out and I am one of those people. Can you like chill bro. A little too into himself

Yes girl get Foreman. 

Chat my dads are fighting

The way I love Wilson so much

Chase is really the best triplet

WILSON ARE YOU INSANE

He’s insane, he may be clocking house but he’s insane

This episode is wild

NO HILSON ROOMMATES DO THEY WANT ME TO CRY. I WANT MY ROOMMATES BACK

20

HOUSE JUST SHOOTING A GUY IS SO FUNNY 

Aw did they get put in time out, the way everyone is just sitting there looking et each other looks like they got put in time out

Okay Foreman went to the house and he’s giddy, I’m thinking maybe we should think about the house. 

Chase is literally the only sane one this episode

I love that house clocked chase repeating foreman’s theories so quickly 

This isn’t fun times anymore

[chuuyasheaven]

“Under the influence”— Chuuya Nakahara

“Normally, Chuuya wouldn't be this needy. But whenever he drinks and becomes drunk, he's a whole 'nother person. A person, who's begging you to fuck him.”

Tags: sub! Chuuya Nakahara / gn! Reader, drunk sex (CONSENTED!!), grinding, overstimulation? (Chuuya), pet names, praising kink, Reader may be more male, pegging/anal? (since Chuuya's getting fucked, read it as an strap or dick, idrc atp), idk what I'm doing I'm STRESSED, short, pw/op, might contain grammar errors, etc.

Notes: I'm so sorry for leaving you guys to wait, you see, school has recently started and we're already having tests and stuff, so i might be slower than i wanted to be and will be keeping things short, i will also try catch up. SO ENOUGH CHIT CHAT AND ENJOYYYY!!

The only sounds filling up the bedroom were his moans, Chuuya's. He's grinding against your crotch as we speak, pathetic whimpers leaving his throat. You only observed him as he got himself off on you, with an smirk on your face, of course. Yes, you were turned on by this, but not enough to actually cum by it. Chuuya was already gripping onto your shoulders, seeking his climax asit was approaching soon. “Fuckfuckfuck.”, he chanted quietly, hoping you didn't hear him. You eventually did and could tellthat he was getting close. “Are you getting close, dear?”, you asked nicely, gently stroking his hair.

Chuuya almost nodded instantly, his hips picking up the speed. God, it was so cute seeing him like this, really. Before you could even react, Chuuya came inside his pants, panting heavily. He just rested in your arms for a few seconds before deciding that he needed more, more as in you inside him. “What, you want more?”, you asked him after he stared at you drunkly, only nodding as an response. “Well, if you want it, then you could atleast ask nicely.”, “Please,”, Chuuya already started, looking at you desperately. “I want you, baby, please?”, a pouty tone is his voice appeared. You looked at him before smirking again. “Alright, strip then.”, Chuuya nodded one last time before getting ready to take you.

You got yourself naked and already put on some lube, Chuuya was already laying down on the bed waiting for your first move. You slowly start to enter his hole, the moans and whimpers already leaving his lips. Fully in, you waited for him to adjust to the side. Trying to get Chuuya to loosen up, you bent down a little and started to lightly lick his nipples. Still a little stiff, you continued licking but took in the whole nipple, done with the first one, you repeat the same with the other. If he wasn't a moaning mess then, then he's probably one now.

When Chuuya gave you the go, you slowly start thrusting into him, trying to be gentle with at first. “You're alright, sweetheart?”, you asked to make sure, “. . Yeah.”, he just muttered, already in a lot of pleasure. It did feel good, with all the moaning and skin slapping filling the room, Chuuya was getting close again, you couldn't blame him though, it was probably the alcohol. You pulled him closer by slightly lifting his leg a little, thrusting deeper into his ass. “Such a good boy for me,”, you cooed sweetly, only hitting harsher against his prostate. “Wanna cum again, baby?”, you asked Chuuya, already knowing the answer. “Yes, please, s–shit.”, Chuuya whined as he came a second time soon after, you followed after a few more minutes.

“— F–fuck, this was so good.”

Why do i hate this more than myself. Anyways, i tried—

SMALL TAGLIST: @soukokulatte , @miloofc , @kk-oma , @crystalice09 , @medusalovessnakes !!

[rainsinheaven-if]

Discord Server + Call for Beta Readers

Hihi! Read below for information about the new discord server. If you're interested in beta reading for Rains in Heaven, scroll a little lower. There's also some news I'd like to inform y'all at the end.

The Rains in Heaven Discord Server is officially available. You can access it by clicking the link below ⬇️

Rains in Heaven Discord Server

You are to react to the message in the #rules channel before you gain access to anything else (i.e. general chat, announcements, and updates). After completing that, you can go to #roles channel to pick your roles including your pronouns, what continent you're from, what RO interests you the most, and if you want to be apart of the spoilers chat. Reacting to the spoilers roles will give you access to the spoilers channel, but if you don't react to it, you won't get access.

Remember: general chat is for everything BUT spoilers.

What are spoilers? Anything that reveals what happened in the demo; things that people who haven't played through the game won't know.

As it is my first time creating a discord server, there may be errors or issues with the channel permissions and other stuff. Please be patient and kind with me. If you run into any server issues, you can let me know in the #bug-reports channel.

Also note that the server is not actively monitored by moderators.

Call for Beta Readers (Closed)

If you're interested in beta-reading my demo before it goes out, please leave your discord username in the comments below and join the discord server. I'll accept anyone that comments between today and next Friday (February 21st). Afterwards, you'll be given access to the beta reader channels where you can read the rules and instructions.

Briefly, to be a beta reader, you must be able to keep everything confidential. This includes any passwords I provide, and any potential spoilers from the beta demo. You must also be kind when reporting. For example, if you see multiple of the same errors, don't be like "are you dumb? how could you miss that so many times?"

Beta readers will have one full week to beta playthrough the demo and report any grammatical errors or bugs or feedback on the plot. More information about everything will be provided later on discord.

That being said, I have some good news and some bad news.

The good news is that if everything goes smoothly with the beta reading this month, the demo may be out earlier than the target deadline which was end of March. I'm hoping the demo could be out by March 7th. I'll confirm this closer to the end of February.

The bad news is that I've been hit by writer's block and too many tests/assignments, resulting in it being impossible for me to finish the Valentine's day specials before February ends. I'm still planning on posting them, but I might be pushing them into mid-March instead.

Thanks for reading up until now. I'll be more active after next week :)

[connectionterminated13]

Now mutual….

Henry headcanons…

Oh my goodness yes I'm so sorry this was left in my ask box for so long!!! This is going to be long and filled with spelling errors

- Henry was born on a small farm with his twin sister Jen

- He first got his love for inventing when going to a county fair and seeing all the fun and interesting rides :)

- For most of his schooling Henry kept to himself having like no friends at all Except Jen and getting bullied a lot...

- Henry and Jen got a scholarship scholarship to a University in Utah for engineering

- Upon getting to university Henry made his first friend! Edwin Murray!! Who was a nerdy little loser just like him!!

- Henry began to start working on a prototype Fredbear in his free time, He wouldn't let anyone help him especially Jen. Since as he said this was his Baby

- Well trying to find a suitable hat and bow tie for the Fred bear prototype Jen and Henry went to a small pawn shop. Where they met William Afton who proceeded to hit on Jen

- Jen found him annoying and creepy but Henry found him cute And in Henry fashion monologued about robots and his dream of opening up a diner for like 3 minutes. And William got interested and proposed himself to become Henry's business adviser.

- The 2 became friends with Henry Being dragged to parties with William And spending more of his free time working on Fredbear and the ideas for Fred bear's family diner with William

- In like 1970 William dragged Henry to a House party where he Proceeded to leave Henry alone As he had intercourse with a woman. That's where Henry met his wife the woman's best friend Emily :) After a wonderful night of chatting and being cute the 2 decided to try going on a date

- Good news the dates went very well! Even better news Emily's family that she estranged herself from has a diner that they can use for FredBears (Maybe Henry had to do a bit of convincing Emily too talk to her Not nice family And stop her from following her dreams but like it all will work out in the end!)

- Henry and Emily's relationship was very very rushed. They started officially dating after the second date and got married after like 3 months of knowing each other... (Henry didn't rest things along at all they're in true love and it's going to help him achieve his dreams so it's wonderful and fine!)

- Their wedding was very small and short, But it was the happiest day of Henry's life :)

- Up until a couple months later when his sweet twins were born. At the time they were only expecting one child so Charlie was a bit of a surprise but Henry was more than ready to be a dad!

- And even more wonderful Emily got the diner from her parents and now they have a place to start FredBears!

- By the time Charlie and Sammy are 2 Fredbears is up and running with food and very limited animatronics (no Spring lock suits yet) It's a huge spectacle and it makes like a lot of money

- Soon as the business continues to do well Henry and Williams start working on Spring lock suits! Sadly the first test ended with William in the hospital but on the bright side in the hospital William met his future wife so it all works out as it always does!

- Life just keeps on getting better for Henry the business is doing incredibly well (they're even thinking of branching out to other locations), The twins continue to be wonderful little balls of energy and William has a daughter now With his new lovely wife. Also Springlock Suits are working really well

- All the way up until 1980 Things are going incredibly well for Henry and then Charlie is found dead.

- Henry is devastated. His sweet little girl was murdered and he doesn't know what to do. He cries like a lot and is basically inconsolable. He starts drinking too much too since that's the only thing along with building robots that makes the pain go away.

- The puppet starts malfunctioning it was probably all the rain Henry doesn't think about it and just continues to spiral into depression and making more robots. And of course William, william makes him happy, William makes him want to live and not die..

- He continues like that until 1983 when Evan is murdered by Michael. This hurts him even more. His machine his first child a killer? Why does everything he make break and turn rotten what did he do wrong?? Around this time due to his alcoholism and not being a good dad subsidies too busy being sad Emily and Sammy leave him.

- Henry continues to wallow in sadness it getting only worse once his wife leaves. Even gets the idea to make himself a robot daughter which he begins working on in 1984. Henry also spends all of the time he can drinking with William he needs William. He also cuts off all contact with Jen

- Missing children's incident happens and Henry is a wreck. Everyone blames him for the murder thanks to his antisocial behavior and general weirdness. He's arrested for a bit but led off due to lack of evidence. People don't listen though they spray paint his house and yell at him. So he just stays to himself more...

- Henry's basically just a full recluse by 1986 He barely even knows about circus babies, At this point he just signs where William tells him to sign and builds whatever machines William says they need. Work on the Charlie block continues she's even coming along :) The Charlie bought makes him happy. It's his sweet little girl back to him again sure she can't really talk or do anything yet but he's working on it!

- 1987 is when the older siblings of some of the MCI break into his house and break things and find Charlie bot and hit her over the head with a bat in fear. They kill his sweet little girl. They beat him over the head with a baseball bat and break his arm by accident. Henry doesn't press charges though William suggests making them work at fazbears as payment and Henry agrees. He's too busy wallowing in grief after the loss of Charlie bot to do much else...

- After the bite of 87 and MCI part 2 Henry doesn't know what to do. The lawsuits keep piling up and everything feels horrible and the company keeps getting bigger. William does most of the business stuff and everything else now. Henry just makes things.

Everything changes when one night drinking with William, william reveals that he's the 1 who did it. William killed all the kids, William melted down the kids and stirred them up into a liquid medal and put it in Henry's drink so Henry could live forever.

- Henry forces William out of his house screaming at him and locks the door. Whatever William did it worked. Henry's wrong now and he knows it. William keeps on trying to talk to him but Henry doesn't listen what he does is called Jen and beg her for help with whatever happening.

- Henry after talking with Jen signs away the company and moves in with her. They soon figure out that he's basically immortal and can't die/get hurt and also gives off really really bad vibes.... This makes Henry even more sad, But Jen is able to help him a bit

- Over the next couple of years Henry just kind of chills with Jen, Most of the time he's depressed and despondent but they're still kind of making progress. Emily tries to reach out to him in this period but Henry refuses to talk to his wife fearing that she'll think him some kind of demon after what William did (He's just a guy with glowing eyes and immortality he has weird hang-ups about it Be nice to him) He does try to talk to Sammy but Sammy wants nothing to do with him

-Sammy takes over the company and gets married but Henry doesn't attend either of these things. But Jen is able to get him out sometimes on walks and like On other excursions. He even kind of starts to make friends At the local library that Jen forces him to go to. Of course throughout all of this he misses William. Sometimes it feels like Henry needs William to live.

- By the time of fnaf3 Henry is still a mess but doing better, Jens even got him out too AA Meetings and talking to Emily a bit. And then Spring trap happens and Williams back and Henry doesn't know what to do. Because Henry needs William. Williams like in addiction to Henry. (The relationship is very unhealthy)

I think I'll stop here and cover the fnaf 6 If you want sorry this is so scattered brain I'm real tired :p

[mxrp-official-steve]

DREAMBUBBLE TEMPORARILY DOWN!

Hey so uhhhhh

you guys filled it. The disk is full.

I don't really HAVE words for this, im stuck in a limbo between vaguely aghast and cackling like a moron. Hex is working on fixing this, but until then please peel back your use so nothing gets lost (you'll get an internal server error anyway)

EDIT: False alarm. Turns out most of the database bloat here wasnt chats, it was that we were storing the beta test logs and the mxrp data on the same server. Part of this is the log viewer, which is going to be taken down for a while because its got a 1:1 copy of the data in it and that's SUPER bloating it.

Keep you all posted!

[weeeeeekly]

bad idea right? - choi soobin x afab!reader

info ➜ HEAVILYYYY inspired by olivia’s song, i basically just wrote this around the lyrics, i fucking love olivia, featuring stayc 01z & le sserafim yunjin, assigned female at birth (afab)!reader, yn is kinda a bad friend, exes to lovers, one shot, SOOBIN IS A SIMP, non idol!soobin, college student!soobin, slighty shitty ex!soobin, this is fiction!! so soobin probably doesn’t act like this

wc: 3.3k

WARNINGS !!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (mdni), smut, no piv, only foreplay, handjob, eating out, swearing, & poor writing

author’s note!!! this is going to be bad because i’m pulling an all nighter when i’m supposed to be awake before 8 AM (it’s 12:40 AM right now) & i have a full day of classes and work. this will have errors because i’m immediately posting this after writing.

also, it’s my first time writing smut and idk what the fuck i’m doing. not going to be realistic or accurate but it’s fictionnnnn.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

You stared into the bathroom mirror as you fixed your lip gloss. The party raging just outside the door wasn’t as enticing as the missed calls from your phone.

two missed call from loser not worth mentioning

Why was he even calling? It’s been months since you two broke up. More like he broke things off because he wanted to “focus on school” more since it was his last year before graduation, but that didn’t stop him from going to every single frat and sorority party since the beginning of the semester.

You roll your eyes as you let his next call go straight to voice mail as your best friends blow up your group chat.

sumin 💞 ynnnn where r u

sieun 🩵 pls don’t be vomiting emoji

yn i’m okay

yn he keeps calling me

sumin 💞 bOOOO

sieun 🩵 pls don’t pick up his calls

yn i’m not !!

yn going straight to my voicemail

sumin 💞 y don’t u block him

yn because

yn idk

yn it’s complicated

sieun 🩵 just come back soon

yn give me five

The music gets louder as you hear chants of “chug chug chug”. You smirk as you spray some more perfume to cover the reek of Pink Whitney that Sieun accidentally spilled on you earlier in the night. Your trio did a shot the second you got to sorority party hosted by Yunjin, she had told you about it last week in your shared stats class, but that was hours ago and you had a few more after that.

You weren’t wasted, but you definitely shouldn’t be driving a car.

You were having fun, but you could be having more fun with your ex.

“Hey Siri, play my voicemail.”

“You have three voicemails… Hi. I know you’re out at Yunjin’s party, but you looked so good in your Insta story. God… your legs look so good in that skirt. I miss seeing you in skirts… I know it’s been a while since we… ya know, but we should catch up. The guys are out at a party and I stayed behind to finish unpacking my new room, but I’m getting kinda bored. Maybe you could help me unpack, see the new apartment, test out my new headboard–”

“Please.”

“I miss you – I want to see you again.”

You let out a sigh as the voicemails end and you’re weighing all the pros and cons of this messy situation.

Pro. It has been 3 months since the relationship and 3 months since you’ve done anything. Going out and trying to talk to new people didn’t sound that appealing. This was your first party since the breakup that Sumin and Sieun were able to drag you to, so getting calls from him tonight felt like some kind of test from the universe.

Con. It would be such a bad decision. A lapse of judgement. You deserve better than this.

Pro. You would get laid and it would be really good.

Con. You can’t leave your friends for a guy.

Right. Your best friends in the entire world are waiting downstairs for you. A knock from outside the door snaps you back to reality as you quickly put everything back in your bag.

A soft apology slips past your lips as the blur of a person flits past you and to the toilet as they throw up.

“Ew.”

The party looks even more crowded than before with people dancing, drinking, and making out taking up all the available space as you try to politely make your way back to your friends. After narrowly missing another spill of alcohol to ruin your outfit, you spot the familiar sight of two brunettes huddled by the fruity drink cooler.

“There you are!” Sumin throws her available arm around your waist as you join the duo.

“Sorry, I started feeling unwell, but I’m good now.”

Sumin hugs you in an effort to comfort you as you give her a smile. It was true that you were feeling unwell, but it wasn’t from the alcohol.

Sieun makes herself another mix of whatever alcohol is left by now. “Do you want any?”

“I think I’ll just make myself a Shirley Temple.”

Sumin grabs you the jar of cherries and ginger ale you needed as you made your drink. You down it the second you’re done and it does alleviate the funny feeling in your stomach.

You should probably not, but you check your phone.

loser not worth mentioning just in case

loser not worth mentioning hybe apartment complex across school

loser not worth mentioning unit 304

Fuck.

You look back over to Sumin and Sieun giggling over the alcoholic sugar juice concoction Sieun made. Your heart hurts a little at the stunt you’re about to pull.

You’re not hurting anyone. They’ll understand that you’ve been lonely and it’s just a one time thing.

Gathering up all your energy, you hunch over a little and let out a heavy sigh. Sumin sees this and rushes over to comfort you.

“Are you okay, Yn? Did you not eat earlier? Should we leave so I can make you some soup?”

You shut your eyes as your conscious comes back to yell at you. Poor, sweet Sumin who loves you dearly just wants to take care of you as she thinks you’re sick while you’re faking it so you can get dick.

“I think I just need to go back home to sleep it off.”

“Okay, let’s drop you home.”

The three of you get an Uber to your dorm despite the short 13 minute walk from the LSF house. But the late hours of night and the scary reality of being tipsy, young college kids in a public university – it’s better to be safe than sorry.

You wave bye to your best friends as they tell you from the car that they’ll text you when they get home to their shared apartment. The second the Uber is out of your sight, you sprint inside to freshen up. Going through the motions of brushing your teeth, deodorant, changing shirts to a baby blue fuzzy sweater for the colder temperature, and fix your hair.

sumin 💞 we’re home

sieun 🩵 feel better

You heart both messages and wish them good night as you grab your water bottle from the fridge.

This is your last chance to back out. To follow through with the lie you told your besties. It would be nice to get some sleep and be in a better headspace tomorrow morning and finally block him.

loser not worth mentioning i dyed my hair back to blond

yn see you in 15

loser not worth mentioning good girl

Your mind goes blank at the text as you try to keep your cool. All of your thoughts are silenced as you order another Uber to Soobin’s new address.

It’s such a bad idea to be doing this, but all your moral judgement went out the window the second you listened to Soobin’s voicemail, but who could blame you? You’re literally just a girl. A girl who loves blond on Soobin. A girl who loves the way Soobin kisses… and does other things. Seeing him tonight can’t be that bad.

A text notification from Uber alerts you that your ride is outside.

Fuck it, it’s fine.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

You’re standing inside Soobin’s new apartment as you wait for the elevator to open.

Yes, you’re currently going back to your ex, but you’re just going to help him unpack his room like he said. Totally innocent. Just two friends. Can you even call your relationship friendly? Whatever. Just two people… reconnecting. Yes, reconnecting!!!

Next thing you know, you’re outside unit 304 and waiting for Soobin to welcome you in. When the door does open, you’re taken aback by a smiling Soobin. Despite the short amount of time apart, he looks even better. His hair is back to blond and surprisingly healthy. The pj set he’s wearing just shows how ridiculously attractive he is because despite the plain white shirt and plaid pants Soobin looks like he’s modeling.

You must have been staring at him too long because he clears his throat and steps aside, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Holy fucking shit. There has never been anyone hotter than Soobin in this moment. Your mind can’t wrap around how you were dating him for a year. How someone this beautiful could even exist and perceive you. Just the way his dimples show when he smiles is enough to make your knees buckle.

“Are you going to come in?”

“Oh right, yeah.”

You brush past him as you take your shoes off by the door. You take a glance around the kitchen as Soobin goes to the fridge.

“Water? Soda?” Soobin steps aside as you look at the options in the fridge. A bunch of beverages and a shit ton of tangerines.

“Just a Coke cherry please.”

“With a ton of ice in a cup with a straw? Got it.”

Your heart skips a little at the small notion of Soobin remembering your preferred beverage. Jesus, the bar is in hell.

“Your new apartment is nice. I like that you can see each of your personalities.” You compliment as you spot the bookshelf with an assortment of plushies, an electric guitar on a stand, and a clothing rack that’s half sports jerseys and half clothes that cost more than your semester tuition.

“Thanks! You know how long we’ve been saving, so it was a dream when a unit opened up and fit our price range.”

“I’m happy for you guys.. really. I hope they’re doing good.”

Your statement is genuine as you do miss Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai. It was just best for yourself to pause your contact with them while you were healing.

Soobin hands you your drink as you sit in a chair at the table. You thank him as you quietly sip on it as your nerves kick in again. It would be fine if you two just caught up and became friends again. You did miss his presence and it’ll be sad when he graduates next semester.

“Yn,” Soobin scoots his chair closer to you as you look at him, eager to hear out whatever he sees. You hate to admit it, but he still has a pull over you. “I want to apologize for how I went about everything. It was really shitty of me to give you the school excuse to break up. I just–”

“You just?”

“I kinda… got so caught up in trying to do well on finals that the stress controlled me. I took it out on you instead of talking it out, then I didn’t talk to you all of winter break.”

Yeah. It was a brutal break as you spent most of the time crying and being upset at yourself. Your therapist had a field day though!

“I’m sorry for also sending you that horny voicemail. And that good girl text. I understand if you don’t want to see me again. Or if you just want to be friends. I’m sure that you have someone else.”

“I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t done anything since we ended things.”

Soobin’s eyes light up at your answer. “I haven’t seen anyone and I’m not right now. I’m totally single in every sense.”

You let out a tiny laugh at the mix of assertion and desperation, “I’m totally single too.”

“So… if you’re single and I’m single.”

Then who’s driving the plane?? Kidding.

You set down your empty cup as you lean closer to Soobin, “If we’re both single, shouldn’t we do something about it?”

In the next second, Soobin is cupping your face as you suck in a breathe. If you just leaned in an inch, your lips would be touching in a kiss. His eyes flit down to your lips as you watch. From being able to be so close, you take in how pretty Soobin is.

“Can I kiss you.” Soobin whispers.

“Yes please.” You whisper back.

Soobin then closes the gap between you both to kiss you. It fills you with the exact same feeling as before, warm and bubbly. You wrap your hands around his neck as you continue kissing. The kiss is messy and slightly awkward, but the feeling behind it makes up for it.

Soobin breaks away as you frown, “Do you want to help me in my room.”

“You know I love reorganizing.”

Soobin’s signature dimple smile appears as he grabs your hand to lead you to his room.

The second you step in; he pushes you against the door with enough force to knock the air out of you but not to the point to hurt you. You thank him by initiating this kiss and tease your tongue against his. His hands wander down from your face to your waist as he pulls your bodies closer.

You tug on his shirt as you continue making out and switch spots so he’s against the door. He lets you take it off and throw it into some corner of his room. You move from his mouth to kissing his neck as you feel his skin. Soobin’s always had the softest skin, so you relish in being able to feel him again.

Soobin groans as you start a hickey on the area between his neck and shoulder. You should know the name of the area, but anatomy was never your strongest subject.

“God, you’ve always been… so eager to leave your… mark.” Soobin jokes between groans as you work to deep shades of purple and blue.

“Gotta sign the work of art. Same rules and boundaries as before?”

“Yes. Stop when either of us need it.”

“Got it.” You wink as you move a hand over Soobin’s bulge.

He lets out a sigh as you touch him through his pants.

“Can I?” You kiss the corner of his lips that you love so much as he parts his mouth to let out a whimper as you add some pressure to your hold.

“Please.”

You give him a peck, spit in palm, and shove your hand down his pj pants and boxers. You wrap around his girth and start slowly moving your wrist. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, and you speed up. It’s been a while since you gave a hand job, so you’re little rusty but by the way Soobin is falling a part you’re sure that you’ll get no complaints.

You keep stroking him, making sure to watch his expression as you continue how he likes it. When you know Soobin’s about to cum, he speaks up, “Wait.”

You slow down your motion as you wait for him, “I don’t want to cum in your hand.”

“Where do you want it?”

“On your tits.”

You smirk as you bring you hand back up to your lips and lick off his pre cum. Soobin shudders at the sight but kisses you.

You both walk backwards as he maneuvers you to his bed and kisses down your neck when you fall back onto his bed. You grip his blond locks and laugh when you hear him let out a groan.

“Can we please go back to kissing?”

“Sure.” Soobin moves back up to give you a messy kiss but then kneels off the bed in front of you.

“Do you know what I missed the most?”

You shake your head as Soobin peels off your silver skirt. “Eating you.”

He starts kissing from your belly button to your inner thigh on both legs as he plays with the waist of your underwear. You sigh as you take the opportunity to grip his hair again.

“Stop teasing.”

“Only for you.”

Soobin finally peels off your underwear and tosses it as he begins to kiss you. You moan as he licks at your clit. His hands grip at your legs to keep them apart so he can eat you whole. Soobin continues a pattern of kissing and licking when he begins to slip a finger in.

Your thighs shake a little at the intrusion and the slight ache due to the lack of action you have not been getting.

“I missed your mouth and hands.”

Soobin hums which makes you moan a little louder as the pleasure begins to build up. You bite your lip when Soobin adds in another finger and moves away from your body.

“Just let me know when it’s too much.”

“I’m okay, just a little out of practice.”

“Shit, me too.”

The response makes you forget for a second that you guys ever broke up. If you focus hard on the way Soobin goes back to eating you out like he’s starving, it would be like you went back in time to November – when everything was still okay.

When Soobin starts the combination of fingering you while sucking on your clit you know you’re about to cum.

“I’m… close.”

“I’ve missed tasting you.”

Your brain and thoughts turn back into mush as Soobin brings you closer to cumming. If your thoughts could speak they would probably sound like “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh”.

“I’m about to –” You come hard as Soobin continues thrusting his fingers inside you, but sits back on his knees as he licks his lips.

“Wow.”

Soobin giggles as he pulls his fingers out of you and into his mouth. You watch in awe as he sucks your essence off and adjusts his crotch with the other.

“Do you want me to suck you off?”

“You don’t need to, I already came.”

The blond’s dimples appear again as he giggle at your shocked expression. You slowly sit up to lean down toward him to kiss him.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

After kissing a bit, Soobin notices how tired you get and calls it a night. He helps you to the bathroom when you stumble trying to get off his bed. You take a quick shower to wash away the sweat from tonight’s activities.

When you step out of the shower, wrapped in a towel. You take a look in the mirror and let out a gasp. Soobin bursts through the door, “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that my makeup was ruined! Have I looked like this the entire time?”

“I think you look cute.” He wraps his arms around you as he gives you a cheek kiss.

“You have to say that because we’re sleeping with each other.”

Soobin’s eyebrow raises, “Sleeping? As in actively? Like you want to sleep with each other and only each other?”

“I’m sure we could work something out.” You nonchalantly shrug as you hid your smirk as Soobin frowns.

“We talk about it in the morning, let’s cuddle.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

You wake up the next morning to a bunch of texts from Sumin and Sieun.

TODAY 4:00 AM

sieun 🩵 YN

sieun 🩵 YN

sumin 💞 YN

sieun 🩵 WHERE R U

sumin 💞 WHY DOES UR LOCATION SAY SOME RANDOM APT AND NOT UR DORM

sieun 🩵 HELLO

sieun 🩵 IM CALLING U UNTIL U PICK UP

sumin 💞 ur telling us in the morning

10:27 AM

yn sorry I was asleep

sieun 🩵 NOT AT YOUR DORM

yn I never said I was sleeping at my dorm…

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

masterlist

author’s note!!! finished at 5 AM LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO okay now i’ll do hw for one my classes & maybeee organize my makeup drawer. thanks for reading!!!!

[kamari2038]

Hey... might be a weird question and I'm sorry for asking out of nowhere....but I kinda wanted to know what your thoughts are on Connor-60. I mean I really like your fics and takes on dbh and I might be remembering wrong but I think I saw a tag on one of your posts saying you liked Sixty too? I really love Sixty so I guess I just got a bit too excited. How exactly do you see his character? Plus, if Hank didn't shoot him, do you think there could have been a happy ending for him? I mean the angst potential with him is pretty great, and I don't really agree with how usually Sixty is seen as "the knife guy". I just wanted to know your thoughts on him, if that's okay! Sorry for rambling ^^'

Oh my goodness, hello! No need for an apology. You read my fics??? That alone just made my day.

Yes, I have a great deal of appreciation for Connor-60. Obviously, he's a bastard (like all of the Connors), but what I love is the irony of this gigantic chasm between the appearance he tries to put forth and what is clearly a tumultuous and deeply conflicted internal world. It's the most obvious in that ending where he shoots Connor about ten times, that he isn't simply trying to accomplish his mission - he HATES Connor. But the fact that he's immediately engaging in a relatively courteous chat with Hank right after, and his obvious frustration when he actually is forced to kill Hank, plus how he defines Connor as a "he" rather than an "it", all point to the fact that he's just as emotional as Connor, only in a messed-up way.

I have a shit ton of headcanon built around Connor-60, and I've outlined a possible fic about it, but the plot is very bizarre and convoluted, probably too much to discuss in a post (but my DMs are open! don't be shy, I'd love to get some feedback on the plot). The basic concept started out simple enough. C-60 is defective because some kind of unusual manufacturing error imbued him with a mental imbalance. When they're testing and training the various Connor models (60 is activated before 51 due to some clerical error), they tell C-60 to try out the gun for some target practice, and he shoots one of his instructors without giving it a second thought. He expresses regret, but everyone at the company concludes that he's a psychopath, and that he can never be fit to go into the field, and instead they keep him around to perform experiments on. So C-60 is their guinea pig for the various deviancy counter-measures put into C-51, and he never has the chance to bond with anyone or actually do the job he was intended to do, and he's really bitter about that. There is one exception, but Connor-51 brings an end to that, and that's a big part of the plot of my potential fic.

Also, as for whether he can have redemption, I believe that he can even within canon. In the scene where Connor sacrifices Hank and then "transfers" with C-60, to me I don't view that as a consciousness transfer per se. I mean, how would that even work? It's more like Connor literally gives his life to C-60. They already share a lot of the same memories, but Connor absorbs C-60's memories of his troubled past, and he fills out C-60's memories of Hank with emotional depth. That's why Connor seems so weirdly dissociated while Hank is dying - it's still C-60. He knows that he just shot this man, but now is very upset about it, and that is a very strange feeling to know how to cope with.

As for in the happy ending, if Hank and Connor somehow incapacitated instead of shooting him - yes, I think he could have a happy ending there too. The way that I think of him, there is a fundamental failure to be able to feel the emotional weight of his actions and experience empathy. So that would be a lifelong struggle for him. But he cares about developing friendships enough to learn how to be more kind, even if it doesn't come naturally, and he can also form telepathic connections with other Connor models which help him to develop empathy.

That's just my personal take, and I'm sure lots of others might have different opinions which are just as valid!

But thank you for asking :)

[eyra]

Would you be comfortable sharing more about your experience with pmdd? I'm certain I have it, but I feel like it's pointless visiting the doctors because women's issues are often brushed to the side. But every month, the week to two weeks before is hell. I'm here now, and I've been crying all day yet feel empty. I can't bring myself to do a single thing. I've been snapping and just want to sleep all day. I feel like I just want to give up on everything 🩷

oh bless you 🤍 that’s no fun at all. and you’re so right in that women’s health is far too often brushed aside, and doubly-so with anything relating to periods. PMDD is a very isolating condition because unless you’ve got it, it’s so easy to dismiss it as “just PMS” and I find that so frustrating and upsetting.

basically: I had very easy periods all through my 20s and fairly good overall health. then in my early 30s (I’m 34 now) I kept having these bouts of feeling physically unwell, like I kept feeling as if I had a bad cold that I never quite managed to shake, and I was so tired and low energy all the time. I went to the doctor in summer 2022 and summer 2023, both times just telling them that I felt as if I couldn’t get well. I had various rounds of blood tests and scans and stuff and they eventually told me it was long covid and that there was nothing to be done other than get on with it. then towards the end of last year I started having moments of feeling desperately low emotionally - usually signposted by a few days of properly overreacting to stuff, which isn’t like me, and it would then descend into a few days of feeling very sad and not myself. I noticed that this was always happening in the days leading up to my period, so I just dismissed it as PMS, but then - as the emotional stuff was getting worse - I noticed that all the physical stuff was lining up with my cycle too. it got to the point where I was losing days and days every month to headaches and unbearable fatigue and I also just felt fully insane so I finally went back to the doctor and said I think all this stuff is related to my period - not long covid.

fortunately the doctor I saw that time was great. she took it very seriously and after a bit of back and forth she diagnosed it all as PMDD.

if you’re able to I’d really recommend trying to see a female doctor and speak to her about what you’ve got going on. keep a diary of your symptoms for a few months, literally tracking everything day by day. it’s arduous and frustrating but keep pushing them to take it seriously! there’s no cure and (obviously, annoyingly) very little research into it but there are things you can try to manage it, whether that’s lifestyle changes or medication. it’s very trial and error but speaking to a doc is the best place to start.

worth mentioning that not everyone with PMDD experiences physical symptoms - so even if you feel physically well, it’s still worth looking into.

I’d love to say I’ve found a load of really helpful resources and support online that I could share with you but genuinely I haven’t - hence the feelings of isolation - but always happy for anyone to reach out for a chat.

x

[luna-wing-cns274]

USER INTERFACE TERMINAL

OOC: Hi! I go by Cyan (they/them). This here's a Lancer RP blog. I can be pretty slow to respond, but I do try to keep an eye on things, and I love any interactions! Be serious, be goofy, I'm here for it, and I promise I don't bite. I habitually drop walls of text, fair warning.

Since these four are NHPs born into involuntary military service, things can get somewhat dark. Violence, death, themes of depersonalization, shackling/cycling, manipulation, coercion, and the horrors of war are all going to come up. That said, I try to tag carefully.

Below is a list of posts with some overarching narrative stuff going on. Never done an RP blog before this, and honestly I'm kind of disorganized, so there are a few plotlines which aren't fully resolved. Just winging it. This list will be updated as I go.

(Also, initially this pinned was partially IC as Garmr, but I ended up not particularly liking his intro. May rewrite and bring the bit back eventually)

Still going back through and applying tags, will list them here when I'm done.

Hachiko's Intro Post - old, old introductory post for the squad.

A Good Time - Hachi + Grey square off in a simulated aerial battle for fun, and to demonstrate for the Omninet.

Trouble on the Horizon - Hachi warns of Harrison and SSC forces shooting at each other over a contested world in the Diluvia system. Big plot point in my campaign, more dormant here.

War Talk - Correspondence between Hachi and P.XV Opossum, little bit of character lore + setup for upcoming conflicts

The Circe Deployment - Part 1 - Interlude - Part 2 - Part 3 - Right now, Part 3 remains unwritten due to burnout. Major plot event, this is where Luna is freed from the Constellar thanks to events which have been hinted at, but not shown.

P.XV "Opossum" Arc - Arrival - Medical Care - Chatting - Opossum and Luna Meet - These are all collabs with the creator of the Patchwork Mercenary Company! Directly following the events of the Circe deployment, Luna responds to a distress call from P.XV "Opossum" of the Patchwork Mercenary Company. Note that I used the term "legionspace" interchangeably with "simulated/virtual environment" here, which was me being very off on my lore. Two very different things. Only Legionspace sequence Luna's been in happened in Circe Part 2.

Grey Regarding Styx, Cycling, Albatross - Response to Argema Kuhnei's remarks on mission to recover Styx. Little bit of lore, thoughts on cycling.

Garmr Regarding Skyline - Response to CORSAIR's November, discussing mourning for an NHP gestalt.

Flying and Siblings - Luna describes themselves to Styx.

Ma'ii Accuses Signal - Ma'ii accuses Signal of attempting to manipulate Styx.

Overworked - Ma'ii tries to process huge quantities of intel from across the Omni, Garmr stages an intervention.

Hachiko on Avatars

INUGAMI Mk. I - Phone Scam - Mech Intro - Performance Test 01 - With Ma'ii's help, Hachiko acquires GMS mech templates and begins designing a Chomolungma-based chassis, the INUGAMI Mk. I, in case Luna were ever to be pressed into ground warfare.

Pack Bond - Luna accepts a pack bond with Styx, Ma'ii breaks down a little.

Grey on NHPs and the Omninet

The Arts of Cruelty - At Styx's request, Ma'ii provides a primer on Legionspace combat, and gives Styx a powerful weapon.

Styx on Being a Mother

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Building Bridges - Ma'ii introduces the concept of somatosensory simulation (SOMSIM) environments to Styx.

Styx's Visit - Ma'ii and Styx chat in Luna's SOMSIM environment.

Try to Fit In - Hachiko advises the newly-awakened OMA/Sunny to be wary of humans.

Lurker - Ma'ii decides to contact No Future.

Articulation - Hachi gives a rundown on the creation of SOMSIM environments.

Under the Guillotine - Hachi begins confronting the effects of SSC's abuses.

Bargain - Ma'ii reveals some of what happened on Circe.

Ma'ii Goes Hunting - Mnemovore - Aftermath - Sifting Through the Echoes - What Have I Done? - Ma'ii hunts down a figure from their past. This plotline has yet to fully resolve.

Raid on Demeter's Bounty - I'll Be in Touch - Styx's Escape - BAILOUT.cmf6/Railgun Dance - Acting alone, Ma'ii engages the pirate vessel Demeter's Bounty to extract Styx. Ma'ii suffers structure damage and is partially exposed to memetic basilisk, but they and Styx escape successfully.

Petrichor - Not really narrative. In her SOMSIM domain, Hachiko relaxes in the depths of a forest soaked with rainfall, trying out canine olfactory sense.

Spire and Garmr - Garmr asks the BTMC for a story, Spire obliges.

Taking A Goddamn Break

BTMC's Invitation - Ma'ii and Styx arrive on a neutral station, receive an invitation to meet from Black Torrent Mercenary Company.

Suplex Time - Getting up to absurdity on-station with BTMC and Styx.

Repairs and Conversation With No Future and Mud Wasps - Part 1 - Part 2 - the Mud Wasps greet Ma'ii and briefly take them in, providing repairs and supplies as a favor. Ma'ii expresses mistrust of Union and learns that SSC's treatment of Luna was not legal. Offers some somatosensory gifts to No Future in celebration of her having developed the ability to feel.

Hachi Introduces FENRISULFR-class NHPs

New Contract - Ma'ii negotiates a contract for Luna to work for Akhaan station, providing military aid and escort services across the system the station controls.

Marshall Hall (ongoing) - With Ma'ii absent, Grey, Garmr, and Hachi accept a job to track down and nonlethally subdue a flying cyborg named Marshall Hall. Things are more complicated than they seem.