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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

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reidrum · 1 year ago

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the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction

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joyswonderland1108 · 10 days ago

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🪖💐 Jikook’s Military Discharge: The Pink Air, The Shared Showers, and Third-Wheeling Lives🌸🚿

✨Hi hello, I hope you're all hydrated, your emotions have recovered, your Jikook heart is intact (doubtful) and your Wi-Fi is stable because… JIKOOK ARE BACK FROM THEIR MILITARY HONEYMOON—I MEAN SERVICE. And somehow, in true Jikook fashion, even gayer than before.��

So first things first, our military husbands finally finished their 18-month service, and naturally, chaos ensued the moment they appeared together. It wasn’t even 10 seconds into their joint discharge and these two were already giggling like freshly confessed teenagers at a school talent show. Why were they being all shy and flustered like it was the first day of their arranged marriage?? Also… the bouquet. Jimin got a pink bouquet, his cheeks were pink, his vibe was pink, the literal air around him was pink. The gay radiance was unmatched.

They each gave a little speech because of course they did. And what does Jungkook do? Stands completely turned toward Jimin like it’s instinct. At this point, his magnetic north is just “Park Jimin.” It's like he was absorbing solar power from him. Truly, if Jimin moved an inch, JK would’ve toppled over like a sim whose energy bar ran out.

And THEN they left the base in the same car. THE SAME. CAR. When was the last time we saw them get into the same vehicle like that? Let’s rewind to Vegas 2022. So yeah. It’s giving full circle. It’s giving reunion. It’s giving “we survived the front lines AND each other for 18 months, let’s ride home together babe.”

Anyway, we all waited like starving pigeons outside a bakery while they headed to HYBE to settle in, hydrate, and probably fight over who gets the big towel. Two hours pass, and we get The Live™. That cursed blessed Live. Oh god.

Now, Jungkook told us he doesn’t have much to say. Sounds chill, right? But then somehow spends the next 20 minutes only talking to Jimin. You know, the same man he literally spent 18 months with. Like okay, maybe military regulations banned them from speaking to each other? Maybe they were telepathing the whole time? Either way, it was clear we were third wheeling in that Live. We were just the background audience to whatever romantic sitcom they’re filming.

Apparently, there are still “many stories” they want to tell us, but can’t yet. Because they were tired, hungry, AND they need to confirm what they’re allowed to say. Which honestly just screams: we did some borderline fanfiction-level things and need to get clearance before accidentally confirming your ships. Got it.

Let’s talk about the gay shenanigans:

In classic gay chaos, Jimin casually mentions how in the early weeks of service, he woke up with Jungkook’s face right in front of him. Not even 12 hours post-discharge and they’re already telling us about their morning like it was the morning after prom. And JK? He just “wanted to lean on Jimin.” SIR. We are trying to survive out here. This is not a BL web drama, it’s real life.

JK, without hesitation, hit us with, “I was going to shower but Jimin was busy so I waited.” SORRY? You waited for him to finish… so you could... shower together???Jungkook-ssi, correct me if I’m wrong but this is “buddy enlistment,” not “buddy bathe together.” No one is stopping you from showering except your own inner romantic. That was NOT in the standard issue enlistment brochure. But I guess when you're Jikook, the rules just… don’t apply. WHO WAITS FOR THEIR BRO TO SHOWER TOGETHER??? Now. The shower thing needs to be underlined, bolded, and circled in red. Jungkook quite literally chose not to shower alone because Jimin wasn’t available. Let that sink in. He waited. Like it was a date. Imagine the casual audacity of saying, “Oh yeah I’ll shower after you finish your thing so we can go together 💖” …in front of millions.

Anyway, JK brought out a photo strip during the live. And it was giving couple booth energy. We haven't seen the full thing yet but i hope it's coming, I hope it drops and if it does? We riot in the streets in matching satin pajamas.

Oh and Jimin, baby angel, says: “When we enlisted, we just thought it would be nice to be together.” NO THOUGHTS. NO PLANS. JUST VIBES. They didn't even check the military logistics. They were just like, “Let’s do this thing together, consequences be damned!” Because being apart wasn’t an option, apparently. They didn’t even consider that they might be sent to different divisions or—oh, I don’t know—the front lines?? Because Jikook logic says: “Where you go, I go.” No thoughts, just love and matching buzzcuts. 🤝

And THEN, there’s the legendary tummy poke moment™. Jimin’s stomach growled (same), and JK POKED HIS TUMMY LIKE A FREAKING CARTOON CHARACTER IN LOVE. Cue me screaming into a void.

And THEN we got the moment that truly encapsulates the domestic Jikook energy: Jungkook, ever the soft romantic, tried to feed Jimin a rose petal. Yes, an edible flower, placed delicately on the cake like a metaphor for their whole existence: beautiful, unexpected, a little extra. He picks it up with such intention and offers it to Jimin like he’s recreating a wedding reception moment. It’s the fact that Jungkook saw a flower and thought “Jimin should eat this” that sends me into the stratosphere. Why? Because love is feeding your soulmate flowers on a live broadcast and giggling while doing it.

The entire live was a rollercoaster. Between the giggles, the accidental flirting, the “I missed you even though you were right there” energy, and Jungkook poking Jimin’s tummy like a human teddy bear, I was on the floor. Jimin's hand on Jungkook’s lap while reading comments, Jungkook rubbed Jimin’s neck when he got nervous. IT WAS DOMESTIC. IT WAS INTIMATE. IT WAS EVERYTHING.

Now listen. I don’t like to jump to conclusions but I’m jumping and the conclusion is: they are in love and they don’t care who knows.

And they kept talking to each other. They were so giddy and awkward and shy it felt like we were third-wheeling their post-military honeymoon getaway debrief.

So to summarize:

Jimin: “Woke up JK's face right in front of him in the military dorms.”

JK: “Waited for Jimin so they could shower together.”

Both: “Have so many stories but don’t know what’s safe to share.” (GOD WHAT ARE YOU HIDING)

And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, Jimin says, “We have many stories. We should do this more often.” Oh? Is that a promise? Is that a weekly livestream deal I just heard?? Because if not, I will be suing for emotional damages. That’s false advertising. So guess what? I’m holding them legally accountable. That was a verbal contract, and I’m expecting weekly bedtime story Lives where they spoon under a shared blanket and tell us about the time Jimin made Jungkook ramen at 2AM on base. (It happened. Don’t ask for proof.)

And look. I know some of you are gonna say “they’re just besties” and to that I say: grow up. Jikook are literally in their Soft Military Boyfriends Era™ and if you can’t see it, your shipper lens expired in 2019.

And just when the emotional damage was almost manageable, just when our hearts had barely stabilized, they posted The Selfie™. The discharged, glowing, rosy-cheeked, post-live, shared-car, shared-shower, flower-feeding boyfriend selfie.

Honestly? They didn’t just return from the military. They returned to each other.

Jikook is not just real. They are thriving.

Welcome to Post-Military Domestic Jikook. We are so back.

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #Jikook nation #Domestic Jikook #Military Jikook #Soulmates in uniforms

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tealvenetianmask · 8 months ago

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A lot of the discourse on The Full Moon/Apology Tour has revolved around the pedestals that our boys put each other on. But I think the pedestal Stolas has Blitz on in particular often gets misunderstood.

I've seen a lot of takes that says that Stolas can't really love Blitz. He just loves the idea of Blitz . . . the one he's built up in his head based on romance novels and rom-coms and soap operas.

I think the reality is more complicated, and that even though, yes, Stolas idealizes Blitz, he also very much loves Blitz for his true self.

Let's look at some times when Stolas saw "the real Blitz," as his quirky, resilient, innovative, low-class self, and very much loved that person, and not just the knight in shining armor version of him.

The Circus.

Some have used this moment to say that Stolas idealized Blitz as a fantasy of what it must be like to be free.

And . . . yes. BUT ALSO. He only falls more in love (in a kid-crush kind of way) when he sees Blitz mess up on stage, get booed by the crowd, and make a joke that's clever but quite dark and niche. Creatively, to work his way through a difficult situation. There is SO MUCH in this short minute that reveals to us AND TO STOLAS who Blitz really is.

Seeing Stars

Oh boy. Let's make a list. I'm too tired to make this exhaustive, but in this episode, Stolas sees Blitz

Being careless in a way that puts Octavia in danger

Using an absolutely stupid costume to disguise himself

Getting terrible stage fright

Going way off script in the sitcom in (again) a way that's niche humor and does not appeal to most of the audience

LITERALLY HAVING A BREAK FROM REALITY AND SHOOTING UP THE TV STUDIO

Okay, so when Via is in danger, Stolas is unambiguously peeved by the mistake, but he forgives Blitz because Blitz puts in effort to find Via and make it right.

And in the rest of these instances, Stolas EITHER affirmatively likes the cringy and silly side of Blitz's personality:

Or without the slightest hesitation, when Blitz shows a real weakness, focuses not on disappointment that this man is not his perfect soap opera hero, but puts that aside and tries to help Blitz get out of trouble.

There's also this moment in Western Energy where Stolas is absolutely unbothered by Blitz's atrocious spelling and is genuinely just happy to think for a moment that Blitz cares. I feel like someone COULD twist this to be about Stolas having blinders on about what's right in front of him, but I don't think so. I think he's fine with Blitz not having all the same strengths that his society clearly values, and just wants to be loved back by this person who he has genuine feelings for.

So what doesn't Stolas know about Blitz before The Full Moon/Apology Tour? He doesn't know that Blitz hates himself. He doesn't know that Blitz pushes away people he cares about. He knows that Blitz has walls up but doesn't know why. You can fall for someone without knowing their deepest darkest hurts-- you can even love them. But you do need to know these things to have a deeper relationship with the person.

His focus on romantic media is a problem because it forms his expectations about relationships, not necessarily because it blinds him to who Blitz is. He wants to be rescued. He wants to be chased after. He doesn't understand that good relationships take a lot of work . . . and he'll need to learn that.

But he doesn't just love Blitz for these ideas. He loves Blitz for being Blitz.

This, like many of these essays, was inspired by a conversation with @akirathedramaqueen.

#stolitz #my helluva meta #stolas goetia #blitzo buckzo #blitz #blitzo #helluva boss #AND ALSO THIS IS A REASON WHY A RELATIONSHIP WITH “just anyone else” WOULDN'T WORK #He's in love with Blitz #not just in love with love #I'm extremely healthy about this guys

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theseh00perscanh00p · 9 days ago

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Coaching Violation: Part 8

paige x azzi

a/n: no appologies from me for now... contains sexual content minors DNI

word count: 4k

Locker Room – Post-Practice

Azzi’s POV

The room buzzed with post-practice energy — music low, water bottles clinking, the occasional thud of sneakers being kicked off. Azzi peeled off her jersey, sweat still clinging to her back, her sports bra damp. She grabbed a towel and turned toward her locker, not paying attention to much of anything, until—

“Daaaamn, Fudd,” Rickea said, voice cutting through the chatter. “You out here playing games on AND off the court?”

Azzi blinked, confused. “Huh?”

Rae’s laugh followed. “Girl, don’t play dumb. We saw it.”

Azzi froze mid-reach for her hoodie. “Saw what?”

Rickea stepped in closer, lifting an eyebrow and pointing not-so-subtly at Azzi’s ribcage. “That mark, babe. Kinda hard to miss.”

Azzi glanced down. And there it was. Faint, but obvious — the deep purpling bruise from where Paige’s mouth had lingered too long the night before. Her stomach dropped.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, yanking her hoodie over her head as fast as humanly possible.

Rae was already cracking up. “We didn’t know you were out here sharing a bed, Miss Fudd. That the real reason you’ve been floatin’ through drills lately?”

“I—no—I mean—” Azzi was stumbling. Her voice was too high. Her face was burning.

Rickea gave her a look. “So? Who is he?”

Rae chimed in, “Or she. We don’t judge. Whoever it is got you marked up like a damn claim tag.”

Azzi grabbed her water bottle and tried to act unbothered — but her ears were bright red.

“Y’all need hobbies,” she muttered, avoiding both of their eyes.

Rickea gasped dramatically. “That means it’s juicy.”

Rae smirked. “We’re not lettin’ this go. You will be interrogated.”

Azzi tried to laugh it off, but the moment they turned away, her hand pressed lightly over the mark.

Her heart was racing.

She was so screwed.

Locker Room – Adjacent Coaches Office

Paige’s POV

From her seat behind the cracked door of the coaches’ office, Paige could still hear the thrum of music echoing from the locker room — and faint laughter. Loud. Familiar. Rickea and Rae.

She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not exactly.

But she’d heard Azzi’s name. Then a loud “Daaaamn, Fudd.”

Then more laughing. Too much laughing.

She froze mid-email. Listened closer. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, suddenly twitchy.

Rickea’s voice again, muffled but clear: “We saw it.”

Paige’s stomach dropped.

Saw what?

And then:

“Who is he?”

“Or she…”

She nearly knocked over her coffee.

Her brain went to static. Her pulse? Thudding.

She shut the laptop slowly, very slowly — like it would silence the rising panic in her chest.

She leaned back in her chair, trying to breathe through the sudden heat flooding her skin.

Of course she hadn’t thought about that part. Not last night. Not when her mouth had pressed to Azzi’s ribs like she was branding something sacred.

She ran a hand down her face.

Amateur.

Rookie mistake.

She was supposed to be the composed one. The head coach. The woman who had literally warned her team about TMZ days ago.

Now her star player was out there in the locker room with a hickey.

Her hickey.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

And then —

More laughter. More teasing.

Paige didn’t even realize she was gripping the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white.

A soft knock came from the doorway. She startled.

KK.

“Everything good?” KK asked, popping a grape in her mouth from a random paper cup like she’d just walked into a sitcom.

Paige cleared her throat. “Fine. Just—team stuff.”

KK narrowed her eyes. “Team stuff, huh?”

Paige stood abruptly. “I’m going to the film room.”

KK watched her for a second too long, clearly unconvinced, but let it go. “Cool. Tell Azzi to bring whatever mystery boo she’s hiding, I love a reveal.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

KK smirked. “Nothing.”

Paige left before she could say something she’d regret.

But as she walked down the hall, the echo of Rae’s voice — “We saw it” — bounced back through her mind like a warning shot.

She was definitely going to have to talk to Azzi.

Preferably before the whole team figured it out.

Later That Evening — Azzi’s Apartment

Soft R&B playing in the background, the smell of garlic and roasted vegetables in the air

Paige knocked twice before the door opened almost instantly, like Azzi had been waiting just on the other side.

She looked effortless — oversized crewneck, shorts barely visible underneath, curls pulled back, a little flour dusting the side of her cheek.

“Hey,” Azzi said with a crooked grin, stepping back to let her in.

“Hey,” Paige replied, then paused just inside the doorway. She looked around — cozy lighting, a half-prepped salad on the counter, a simmering pan on the stove. “You really weren’t kidding about cooking, huh?”

Azzi tossed her a look over her shoulder. “You did delivery. This is me raising the bar.”

Paige smirked, slipping off her shoes. “Remind me not to challenge you to anything involving a stove.”

Azzi just hummed, going back to stir the pan. For a second, things felt easy again — warm, quiet, safe.

But then Paige leaned against the counter and said, “So… I heard about the locker room today.”

Azzi froze mid-stir, her shoulders tensing.

“I overheard they were asking who he was,” Paige added, voice a touch lower now. “Or… she.”

Azzi closed her eyes for half a second, then turned the heat off the burner and sighed.

Her face was flushed, but not from the cooking.

“I mean, I didn’t even think about it,” she muttered. “I didn’t see it — the… you know.”

Paige swallowed, suddenly unsure if she should apologize or grin. “Yeah. Me neither. Not until I almost spit out my coffee.”

Azzi groaned. “God. It’s so obvious, huh?”

“Not unless they start connecting the dots. Which they haven’t.” Paige stepped closer, voice softer now. “But yeah… it’s there.”

Azzi glanced up at her, sheepish. “You mad?”

Paige blinked. “Mad?”

“I don’t know.” Azzi shrugged. “We said we’d be careful and now they’re talking.”

Paige reached out, thumb gently brushing that flour smudge from her cheek. “I’m not mad.”

Azzi held her breath.

“I’m just… very aware that this is going to be harder than I thought.” Her eyes stayed on Azzi’s. “Especially when you look like that.”

Azzi laughed — a small, grateful sound — and leaned into her hand just a little. “So what now? Turtlenecks in July?”

Paige grinned. “Could be kind of hot.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, turning back to the stove, but Paige saw the smile tugging at her lips.

“We’ll figure it out,” Paige said, quieter now. “We just… need to stay ahead of it.”

Azzi stirred the pan again. “So… less biting?”

“No promises,” Paige whispered, stepping in behind her, chin brushing her shoulder.

Azzi smirked, cheeks warm. “Dinner first.”

“See?” Paige said, reaching around for a spoon. “We’re learning boundaries already.”

Later That Night – Azzi’s Apartment, Post-Dinner

TV low in the background, the glow of the credits flickering across the room

They were tangled up on the couch — limbs comfortably interlocked, the scent of dinner still faint in the air. Paige’s arm was wrapped loosely around Azzi’s waist, her other hand tracing idle circles against the bare skin under her sweatshirt.

Azzi hummed softly, eyes half-closed. “That was the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

Paige smirked, lips brushing the top of Azzi’s curls. “I’m never cooking again. You’ve officially ruined takeout for me.”

Azzi laughed, the sound muffled against Paige’s collarbone. “Good. That was the plan.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes — not awkward, not heavy. Just still. Safe.

Then Paige shifted a little, her voice quieter now, hesitant but real.

“You know…” she started, fingers still making lazy paths across Azzi’s side. “You make it really hard not to want people to know you’re taken.”

Azzi stirred against her. “Oh?” she teased, voice still soft. “I’m taken, am I?”

Paige froze — just for a breath. “I mean… well, yeah. I—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t really want you to see anyone else.”

Azzi turned just enough to look up at her. “Good,” she said simply. “Because I don’t want to see anyone else either.”

Paige felt her chest ease a bit. She hadn’t even realized she was holding that particular breath.

“But,” Azzi added, shifting slightly and raising an eyebrow, “if we’re gonna keep this thing under wraps…”

“Yeah?” Paige asked, a little wary.

“You might have to cool it with the territorial biting,” Azzi said with a smirk. “Unless you want the whole team holding an intervention.”

Paige groaned, dropping her head back against the couch. “God. I didn’t even think—”

Azzi cut her off with a gentle hand against her jaw, turning her gaze back. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

Then, after a beat, her smirk deepened. “But just so we’re clear… there’s nothing stopping me from marking you instead.”

Paige blinked.

Azzi leaned in, her voice brushing against her lips. “Somewhere no one’s gonna see.”

And just like that — Paige’s breath caught, her pulse jumping in her throat.

“Okay,” Paige murmured. “That’s… that’s fair.”

Azzi grinned. “Thought so.”

Azzi’s Apartment – Bedroom

The couch was long forgotten. Clothes left in a trail from hallway to bedside. Moonlight cut through the blinds, striping their flushed skin in silver.

Azzi had Paige on her back, hands above her head, lips already kiss-drunk and breathless. Paige had tried to pull her in closer, tried to take over the rhythm of the kiss — but Azzi didn’t let her.

She hovered just out of reach, a grin tugging at her lips, her hand planted firmly on Paige’s sternum, holding her in place.

“You know…” Azzi began, her voice low and teasing as she traced lazy circles along the top of Paige’s breast, “just because you run shit on the court now…”

Paige blinked up at her, breath catching. “Yeah?”

Azzi leaned in, mouth grazing her ear. “Doesn’t mean you get to call the plays in here.”

Paige let out a broken laugh — part turned on, part stunned. “Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” Azzi kissed her, slow and deep. “Tonight, you follow my lead, Coach.”

And before Paige could come up with a smart reply, Azzi had her hands traveling — down Paige’s arms, her sides, her hips — taking her time like she was studying her. Worshiping her.

Paige’s skin was flushed, her chest rising in quick bursts. Her hands twitched like she wanted to take back control, but Azzi pushed them gently down, then pinned them again — firm, steady.

“I know you like control,” Azzi whispered against her jaw. “But I also know how good you look when you give it up.”

Paige’s breath hitched. She didn’t respond — couldn’t, not when Azzi was sliding lower, kissing across her ribs, her stomach, her hips. By the time Azzi reached the spot between her thighs, Paige was already wet, already aching.

Azzi kissed the inside of her knee first, then the softest part of her thigh, then lower — dragging her mouth slowly over swollen heat, barely parting her lips before pulling back just to watch Paige squirm.

“Azzi—please—” Paige gasped, hips rolling.

“You’re so needy,” Azzi teased, brushing her mouth just barely against her again. “Didn’t realize head coaches begged.”

Paige groaned. “Azzi—”

“Shh,” she whispered, eyes glittering. “I’ve got you.”

And then she devoured her — tongue firm, slow, deliberate, licking through her folds like she had all the time in the world. Paige’s hips bucked immediately, a ragged moan leaving her lips as her fingers twisted into the sheets.

Azzi held her steady, licking her again and again, then slipping two fingers inside — Paige’s body welcoming her with a slick pull and a broken gasp. Azzi moved slow at first, curling her fingers, her mouth pressing tighter to Paige’s clit until she felt her start to fall apart.

“That’s it,” she murmured. “Let me take you there.”

Paige came hard, crying out Azzi’s name, legs trembling around her head, her whole body pulsing with release. Azzi didn’t stop — kept her mouth soft and steady until Paige was twitching, breathless, eyes glassy.

When Azzi finally pulled herself back up, she was grinning — flushed, radiant, in full control. She kissed Paige’s lips again and felt the way her body still trembled.

“You good?” Azzi whispered.

Paige nodded, voice hoarse. “So good.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Still want to be in charge?”

Paige laughed weakly, pulling her close. “Only if you let me next time.”

Azzi smiled, brushing her lips over her jaw. “We’ll see.”

Next Morning – Azzi’s Apartment

Sunlight soft through the curtains, the room warm and still

Paige stirred before her eyes even opened, her senses already aware of where she was. The scent — warm vanilla and something unmistakably Azzi. The arm draped over her waist. The steady rhythm of soft breathing against the back of her neck.

Then it hit her.

She never left.

Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the gentle light. Her body was still tucked firmly into Azzi’s — legs tangled, blankets kicked halfway down, her sweatshirt on the floor by the foot of the bed. Her heart skipped a beat.

Shit.

It was the first time since Vegas that she had actually stayed. That they had let the night stretch into morning like this. No sneaking out. No line drawn. No pretending they hadn’t crossed it.

She didn’t regret it — not even close — but the reality of what came next was starting to press in around the edges.

Practice. The team. KK.

And the fact that she was very much still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

She shifted slightly, just enough to glance at the clock on the nightstand. Then groaned softly under her breath.

Azzi stirred behind her. “What’s wrong?” her voice rough with sleep, arm tightening slightly around Paige’s waist.

Paige hesitated — she didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want Azzi to think she was running again.

“I—” she started, voice low. “I just realized I never left last night.”

Azzi nuzzled closer, still not fully awake. “Mmm. I know.”

Paige let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I have to go home. I didn’t bring anything with me. I’ve got nothing to change into for practice.”

Azzi finally blinked awake, lifting her head just a bit. “Oh… right.”

Paige twisted to face her, their noses almost touching. “Hey,” she said gently. “I’m not sneaking out. I just don’t wanna show up in yesterday’s socks and give the whole gym something to whisper about.”

Azzi smiled sleepily. “You sure that’s the only reason?”

Paige met her gaze. “I’m sure.”

She pressed a quick kiss to Azzi’s cheek, then softened. “I stayed. That wasn’t an accident. And it doesn’t mean I’m about to pretend last night didn’t happen.”

Azzi nodded slowly, thumb brushing against Paige’s wrist. “Okay.”

Another pause.

“You gonna sneak out the front or scale the fire escape?” she teased.

Paige grinned. “Depends. You got a hoodie I can borrow so I don’t scream walk of shame in the parking lot?”

Azzi smirked, rolling out of bed. “You want UCLA or Team USA?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Which one smells more like you?”

Azzi tossed her a hoodie without answering, already halfway to the kitchen.

Paige pulled it on — and paused.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as complicated as she thought.

Same Day – Late Afternoon

Paige’s Office – Sparks Facility

Door cracked just barely, afternoon light streaking through the blinds

The facility had started to quiet. Practice was long wrapped, most of the team filtered out to ice baths or treatment or home. The usual buzz had faded to a sleepy hum — just enough background noise to make the walls feel safe.

Paige was seated behind her desk, ankle crossed over her knee, reviewing tape on her tablet but not actually seeing any of it. She kept replaying the way Azzi had looked that morning — sleep-soft, hoodie hanging off her shoulder, smirking at her like she already knew Paige wasn’t going to make it out of that bed without being wrecked for the rest of the day.

A soft knock pulled her from the thought.

The door pushed open without waiting for an answer.

Azzi.

She slipped inside like she belonged there — like she’d done it a hundred times before. No knock, no hesitation. Just her and that look that Paige hadn’t been able to shake since Vegas.

“Hey,” she said, voice casual, but her eyes held something electric.

Paige glanced toward the hallway out of habit. “You sure it’s safe?”

Azzi smirked, shutting the door with a soft click. “Everyone’s gone.”

Paige stood slowly, rounding the desk. “We said we were gonna be careful.”

Azzi stepped into her space like gravity had made the decision for her. “We are.”

They stood there, a breath apart. Paige’s back hit the edge of her desk as Azzi closed the distance, slow and unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. Her fingers toyed with the hem of Paige’s sleeve.

“I missed this today,” Azzi murmured. “Us.”

Paige’s eyes flicked toward the door again. But her hand had already found Azzi’s hip — a reflex at this point. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

Azzi smiled. “Didn’t feel like it.”

There was a pause — a thick, loaded silence.

Then Paige leaned in. Not enough to kiss her. Just enough to make it feel like they could. Like they might.

Azzi’s fingers grazed her wrist. “Tell me to stop.”

Paige didn’t. Couldn’t.

Her lips brushed just barely against Azzi’s jaw — a ghost of a touch. Then lower, near her neck, just one breathy second too long to be innocent.

Azzi exhaled — shaky, wrecked.

And then—

Click.

A door. Not theirs. Somewhere in the hallway.

They froze.

Azzi stepped back so fast you’d think she’d touched a live wire. Paige stumbled a half step behind her desk, eyes wide, heart in her throat.

Footsteps passed. Faded.

They both stared at each other. Breathless. Shaken. Still not sure if they’d been seen.

Azzi finally broke the silence with a whisper:

“That was too close.”

Paige’s voice was low. “You think?”

But there was a smile on her lips now. Small. Dangerous.

Azzi mirrored it.

Neither of them moved toward the door.

Not yet.

Same Day – Evening

Azzi’s POV

Later in her apartment, lights low, phone in her hand but Paige already gone

Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, legs tucked underneath her, phone dimmed to black in her hand, still warm from the last message Paige had sent — something dumb, something sweet. The kind of text that made her smile without realizing.

But even in the quiet, even after a soft goodbye and stolen kisses, she felt… unsettled.

Not because of what they were doing. But because of how little space it felt like they were allowed to do it in.

The door had barely clicked shut after Paige left her apartment and already, Azzi missed her. Missed the version of her she got to see when it was just the two of them — the jokes, the little stumbles when Paige got shy, the way she looked at her like the world had finally slowed down.

She hated that this version only got to live behind closed doors.

And she knew she probably shouldn’t bring it up. Knew Paige was doing her best, that this whole thing was already balancing on a razor’s edge.

But still…

She opened her phone. Let the cursor blink in the chat thread they’d been living in lately.

Azzi:

can I say something without you thinking I’m being dramatic lol

P. (You Know the One)

you can say anything. dramatic or not.

Azzi hesitated for a second. Then typed:

Azzi:

I know we’re trying to be careful. I get it.

But I think what’s getting to me is how we only get to see each other in our apartments.

Like we’re hiding from the world.

And I know we kinda are… but it makes me sad.

I wanna go on a date.

Something normal.

Something that makes this feel like… something real.

She hit send before she could overthink it.

Seconds ticked by.

Then her screen lit up.

P. (You Know the One)

I don’t think that’s dramatic at all.

I think that’s honest.

And yeah.

I want that too.

Azzi blinked at the screen. Her heart tightened a little — the kind of ache that came from being seen.

P. (You Know the One)

Let me think.

I’ll figure out something that doesn’t get us caught.

But still feels like… us.

Azzi smiled. A little shy. A little giddy.

For once, the waiting didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like a promise.

Friday – 6:28 PM

Azzi’s POV

She double-checked her reflection for the third time. Hair curled just enough, hoodie soft and oversized, leggings tucked into socks — comfortable, like Paige had told her. But her stomach? Anything but calm.

She hadn’t stopped smiling since the text: “Be ready at 6:30. Something comfy. I’m picking you up.”

A real date. Her first real date with Paige.

At exactly 6:31, the familiar hum of a Jeep idling outside her apartment sent her nerves into overdrive. She grabbed her bag, heart thudding, and hurried out.

Paige leaned against the hood, hoodie pulled tight against the evening breeze, baseball cap low, lips curled in a half-smile that always made Azzi’s knees a little wobbly.

“You’re punctual,” Azzi teased, trying to play it cool even though her hands felt clammy.

“I’m predictable,” Paige said. “Get in.”

Azzi slid into the passenger seat, the doors shutting them into their own little bubble. Paige didn’t say where they were going. Just glanced over, smirked, and said, “Trust.”

So Azzi did.

The ride was quiet, but not awkward — music low, city lights fading as they drove further out. Azzi watched the skyline disappear in the mirror, every minute adding to the mystery.

“Okay,” she finally said after almost forty minutes. “If this is a murder-y ‘dump the body in the woods’ kind of thing, I just want you to know I didn’t tell Caroline anything.”

Paige snorted. “You think I’d wear this hoodie to a crime?”

Azzi grinned. “Touché.”

Then Paige turned down a narrow road lined with old trees and dimly lit signs. Azzi’s brows furrowed — until they pulled into a gravel lot surrounded by other cars, a giant screen rising ahead like a glowing wall.

Azzi blinked. “No way.”

“Way,” Paige said, grinning now. “Welcome to the drive-in.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid about movies and snacks.”

Azzi turned toward the screen, then back to her — the kind of full-face smile she didn’t even try to hide. “I didn’t even know these still existed.”

“They do,” Paige said, throwing the car in park. “You just have to know where to look.”

Azzi followed her around to the back of the Jeep, and that’s when she saw it.

The entire trunk space had been transformed. Blankets piled high, two oversized pillows resting against the seats, fairy lights tucked just beneath the edge of the roof, twinkling faintly. A small cooler sat beside a paper bag stuffed with snacks — popcorn, candy, the good kind of chocolate-covered pretzels.

Azzi stared.

“You did all this?”

Paige shrugged, a little bashful now. “It’s not much. But I figured… maybe it could feel like a real date. Without the risk.”

Azzi stepped closer, eyes soft. “It’s perfect.”

They crawled into the back, nestled into the pillows as the previews started. Paige handed her a soda, and Azzi clinked it against hers like a toast.

“To secrecy?” she joked.

Paige shook her head. “To something real — even if it’s just between us for now.”

Azzi looked at her, heart full.

Then she rested her head on Paige’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you for this.”

And for the first time since Vegas… it didn’t feel like hiding.

It felt like hope.

#pazzi fics #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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vera-deville · 2 months ago

Text

Between Worlds, Between Words

04/14/2025

Pairing: N/A Word Count: 1,829 Warnings: Depression that builds up from the fact that you're in a world that's not yours Gender: Gender Neutral Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline, @die-remastered Notes: Totally didn't take me like two years to write this. Inspired by this. Masterlist

It all began with a history lecture.

Professor Trein was going on and on (passionately, as always), about the Seven Great Sorcerers and the founding of the Queendom of Roses. Something-something ancient magic, something-something territorial disputes. You weren't sure. It all sounded like the dramatic backstory of an MMO.

You blinked down at your notes. You had written Queendom of Roses five times in a row, underlined one of them, and then - without fully realizing it - drawn an itty-bitty round-headed T-Rex beside the word. Your pencil hovered. You stared at the creation.

That was the moment you'd pinpoint.

The moment you realized you hadn't thought about dinosaurs or anything of the sort in weeks. Not a single pterodactyl. Not a single deinosuchus. Not a single Berthasaura leopoldinae. You used to be able to rattle off entire prehistoric eras like a party trick.

And now?

Now you were sitting in a gothic castle-school in another dimension, learning about long-dead magic monarchs, while wearing a uniform that quite literally had gold embroidery.

You raised your hand.

Trein, ever the professional, paused mid-sentence and looked up from his book. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Do you..." Your voice was very calm, very reasonable. "Do you know what dinosaurs are?" You waited for him to cause your world to crash down (and further cause you to crash out in the middle of a classroom, of all places).

The classroom fell silent. Deuce blinked at you from across the aisle. Ace looked up from where he was doodling something suspiciously inappropriate in the margins of his textbook. A few heads tilted. Professor Trein furrowed his brow.

"Dinosaurs?" He repeated.

You nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Y'know. Giant lizards? Extinct? Kind of a big deal where I'm from."

"I suppose you must be referring to the draconic species," Trein said slowly. "Dragons were once prominent in the Land of Briar, but-"

"No. No, no, no. Not dragons." You waved your hand. "They didn't have magic or fire-breathing. They just...ran around and roared and occasionally ate each other. Real chill. They had feathers sometimes. I think? And they're all dead. Very important part."

Trein blinked at you, confused. "I've never heard of such a creature."

You nodded again, eyes wide. "Yeah. That tracks. That definitely tracks."

And then you laughed.

It wasn't a cute laugh. Not a giggle. Certainly not a dainty little chuckle. No, it was a full-body, slightly breathless guffaw that escaped from your chest like it had been trying to get out for days. You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but it was too late. The dam had burst. You were cracking up in the middle of lecture like a sitcom character who finally snapped.

"Oh my God," You wheezed, "I'm losing it. I'm actually going insane. This is my villain origin story."

Trein just looked tired.

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You didn't get detention, miraculously. (Trein may have chalked it up to "dimensional stress" and decided not to poke the hornet's nest).

But it was only the first domino in a long, long line.

The rest fell fairly quickly.

Later that day, at lunch, you tried to make a joke about TikTok and go blank stares from every single table. You had something dumb like "It's giving ✨depression✨" and the silence that followed was deafening.

Even Grim had paused mid-bite. "Giving what now?"

You wanted to scream. Instead, you chuckled weakly and pretended to choke on your food.

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"Do you ever," You muttered to Ace and Deuce one day while walking back from Alchemy, "make a really niche reference and then realize - oh. I'm all alone. No one here gets it. I'm never going to have a meme-based conversation again."

Ace shrugged. "You could just make a new meme?"

"That's not how that works!" You cried, clutching your textbook like a lifeline. "They're...they're communal! They're sacred!"

"Maybe you oughtta get used to the memes here then. Dunno what you're complaining about."

Deuce patted your back with a concerned frown. "Maybe you should take a nap."

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It would've been bearable, maybe, if you didn't keep catching yourself saying things no one understood.

Once, in P.E., you muttered, "I'd sell my soul for a Baja Blast right now," after running laps.

Cater turned to you. "What kind of spell is that?"

You nearly bit your tongue.

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There were good days, sure. Days when the chaos of NRC felt almost normal, the strange magic of the world you'd landed in had a fairytale charm. You even liked it sometimes. The floating candles, the enchanted mirror, the weirdly attractive student body (seriously, what on Earth was in the water here?).

But then something would happen - a throwaway line from a friend, a specific smell, a distant memory - and the homesickness would sucker-punch you in the gut.

You missed your old phone. You missed a steady flow of electricity. You missed your precious animes from back home. You missed complaining about anything and everything to your friends in your group chat at 2 in the bloody morning. You missed sending them cursed memes and sobbing over fictional characters they knew you'd been in love with since forever.

You missed feeling understood.

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You think the final straw was a joke.

Ace said something stupid and punny in class. Something about cauldrons and bad grades - classic Ace. Everyone laughed.

You didn't.

Not because it wasn't funny. You figured maybe it was. Surely it had to be, with the reaction of your classmates. But you didn't get it.

You didn't understand the slang. The reference. The cultural context.

So you just sat there, frozen in place, smile tight and fake, and your laughter coming out a few seconds too late.

You felt weirdly hollow.

Not the dramatic, tragic kind of hollow. Just the kind where something that should've made you feel warm instead made you feel like a cracked mug. Still functioning. Still upright. But leaking a little.

And of course, Professor Trein noticed.

He didn't say anything at first, just gave you a quiet, thoughtful look before resuming the lecture. You sat up straighter. Tried to look attentive.

But even so, at the end of class, while everyone packed up their books and filtered out of the room in clusters of laughter and inside jokes, Trein called your name.

"Y/N," He said, tone gentle enough that you flinched a little.

You turned, your bag slung over one shoulder. "Yes, Professor?"

"If you're not in a rush," He said, adjusting his glasses, "would you...care to join me for tea this afternoon?"

You blinked. "Oh. Uh. Sure. Is this - like - a detention-in-disguise kind of tea or...?"

He chuckled softly. "No punishment involved, I assure you."

So that was how you found yourself, after classes ended, sitting in the most scholarly little office you'd ever seen, across a worn oak desk from Professor Trein, with two steaming teacups between you.

Grim of course, had no reason to be there, so it was just you, Trein, and Lucius - who sat on the windowsill like a furry, judgemental gargoyle.

Trein poured your tea and added a sugar cube to his own with great precision. His movements reminded you greatly of Vil.

"I find," He said slowly, "that I don't understand half the things my students say anymore."

You blinked.

"They speak in riddles," He continued, "about things I cannot begin to visualize. They once referred to something as 'mid." I assumed it meant middling, perhaps average. But then I was told - by Ruggie, I believe - that it was an insult?"

You snorted. "Oh, yeah. 'Mid' is like the fancy new word for 'meh.' A good way to start a fight in a cafeteria."

Trein's eyes twinkled. "Yes. Precisely. I've taught for nearly four decades and still find myself utterly baffled by whatever new linguistic virus has infected the student body."

You laughed - genuinely, this time.

"I don't get any of their references either," You admitted. "But, like...from the opposite direction. I say stuff and they look at me like I've sprouted wings."

Trein leaned back in his chair. "I did wonder about your question in class earlier this week. About...dinosaurs, was it?"

"Oh my god, yes!" You set your teacup down. "They don't know what dinosaurs are, Professor. Dinosaurs! Like - prehistoric lizards! We have museums about them! They've made animated movies!

"Fascinating," He said, and it was clear he meant it.

"They thought I was talking about dragons," You muttered, sinking in your chair. "I nearly cried."

Trein's mouth quirked into a small smile. "It must be terribly isolating."

Your shoulders tensed. "Sometimes I don't feel like a person here. I feel like a joke. Like a weird little artifact that fell out of some ancient time machine and nobody's quite sure how to categorize."

"You're not a joke," He said, kind but firm. "You're someone trying to survive in a world that was no built for you."

That hit you right in the gut.

Lucius lept off the windowsill and sidled your leg, promptly resting his head near your foot. You sipped your tea quietly for a moment.

"...Thanks," You said, voice a little hoarse. "I think I needed to hear that."

He nodded, then tilted his head, thoughtful. "Would you be willing to tell me more about your world?"

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

"I may be old, but I've always valued learning," He said. "And you're a living library of knowledge we've never had access to before."

You grinned. "Okay, then. Where do I start?"

You ended up talking until the sun dipped low in the sky. You explained your version of the internet, social media, reality TV, electric cars, and theme parks. You showed him how memes worked. You drew a rough sketch of a dinosaur. You explained your favorite movies, and how music was streamed, and how cooking shows were a national obsession. Trein took notes with the fascinated curiosity of someone rediscovering the joy of being a student.

He, in turn, told you stories about past generations of students. About how the slang used to be different even back then, about the way magic has changed, and about the first time Lucius clawed someone in the middle of class for disrespecting history.

You both laughed a lot.

You scratched Lucius behind his ears for a bit, allowing the soft purrs to lull you further into your feelings. The conversation was exactly what you needed. As you left his office, you heard him say, "You are more than welcome to come to me for anything you may need. I am more than willing to explain the ways of this world to you so that you may pass your classes."

As you walked back to your dorm, the castle halls a little quieter, a little softer in the dimming light, you didn't feel so lonely.

Not everyone got you.

But someone was trying.

And for now...that was more than enough.

Author's Note: I'd just like to say that I genuinely think that Twisted Wonderland had dinosaurs and that their existence has long been known worldwide, etc. I like to further think that modern-day dragons (as rare as they may be) are descendants of old-day dinosaurs and that they somehow magically evolved into dragons. Having said that, I thought it would be admittedly funnier if the Reader found out that the people of Twisted Wonderland don't know anything about dinosaurs, and they crash out because of it. So, I went with that for this story!

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland x reader #twst x reader #oneshots #platonic #isekai #some angst #angst with a happy ending #mozus trein #ace trappola #deuce spade #dinosaurs #reader #y/n #you #vera deville

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bbydoll18xx · 1 year ago

Text

An Inch Away From More Than Just Friends

Paige Bueckers x reader

Your ex-boyfriend is quite literally the smallest man who ever lived, and Paige is there to pick up the pieces

Themes: Heavy smut, angst, happy ending <3, friends to lovers

Word count: 3k

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“And you deserve prison, BUT. YOU. WON’T. GET. TIME!” you scream-sing, each word punctuated with a hand slapping the table loudly. Tears fall down your face and you let out a ragged breath, attempting to quell your rage and anguish.

Your stupid ass, idiot of a boyfriend, Connor, had cheated on you with some tramp from Florida, of all places. And he had subsequently dumped you over text, attaching a picture of the girl sucking his cock.

You wanted to murder him. Slowly. With a knife.

Here you sat, though, after the shock of that text message wore off, sobbing at your kitchen table to Taylor Swift. Your life felt like a terrible sitcom.

He was your first boyfriend. You didn't really date much in high school. The boys were immature and gross, and the girls were too intimidating to approach in a flirty way. You just wanted to feel wanted, sick of constantly being the third wheel with your friends.

Despite getting broken up with out of the blue, you knew why Connor had done it. It was the reason for your countless arguments you had suffered through the last year.

Paige Bueckers.

Paige was your best friend, and Connor had absolutely loathed her from the moment you had introduced the two blondes.

Your boyfriend had always been slightly possessive; it was one of the things that had initially attracted you to him. You had always craved an intense and all consuming love, and at first, you had thought you'd gotten that. But fate was tempted as you and Paige grew closer.

As the song you’ve had on repeat restarts for the hundredth time, you recall your last argument. It wasn’t difficult considering it happened just a few days ago.

You and Paige were hanging out in your apartment like you did frequently. Laying side by side on your bed, a movie played on the TV, sending flickering lights through the dark room. You were both exhausted from the week, but each other’s presence produced a calm energy that washed over all of the stress you had been feeling.

Your legs are tangled up with Paige’s, and your head is nestled in the crook of her neck. The movie is long forgotten, as you relish in the presence of your best friend. She hums in content at your closeness, enjoying your company just as much as you.

You can actually feel your heart cry, realizing that you couldn’t get any closer to the blonde girl.

You had been having several realizations the last few months: Your fondness for UConn’s favorite star was more than just friendly. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure that Connor had also picked up on this. And if this helpless little crush of yours continued, you’d be in deep shit.

Contemplating your situation, Paige nudges into you, catching your attention.

“I can literally hear the wheels in your head turning. Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby?” Paige teases softly.

Baby.

Your heart flutters, as it always did when she called you little pet names.

You shrug, the movement slightly jostling Paige.

“Just dealing with some stuff,” you mumble, a feeble attempt to minimize what you were feeling. It's not like you could tell her anyway.

Before Paige can goad you into revealing more, the door to your bedroom is ripped open, hitting the wall with a slam and reverberating through the apartment.

“I fucking knew it!” Connor shouted, pointing at you and Paige. His face was screwed up into an ugly expression of contempt.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Paige yells back, as you simultaneously shout, “Connor you can't just barge in here. That’s so fucking rude.”

“Stay away from my girlfriend, you nasty, little bitch,” Connor sneers meanly. Paige’s eyebrows furrow at this, standing in front of him to look him in the eye.

You try to stifle a laugh as Paige gets in your boyfriend’s face; she was two inches taller than him, and she never let him forget it.

“I don’t know about ‘little,’” she retorts with a smug expression on her face.

Enraged, Connor spins around, stomping out of the room, kicking your couch on his childish rampage out.

Your breathing is irregular as you try to slow your heart rate. Sobs are already bubbling up inside your chest, threatening to seep through the cracks that Connor had left once more.

Paige pulls you into her lap, cradling you against her chest in a desperate attempt to comfort you. Little did she know, her touch was all you really needed.

You are pulled back into the present, feeling empty without Paige. Tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You felt like you were never really present anymore; walking through life in a daydream. Pictures of Paige constantly filled your brain, and you knew the unrequited feelings would be much more painful than the harsh termination of your and Connor’s relationship.

Fuck. You were down bad.

You take to your couch with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Those were two guys you knew would never fail you. You allow yourself to rot the day away. Episode after episode plays, but you are barely paying attention. You feel like screaming, the feeling of desperation wrestling with your typical sense of composure.

Your vision slides over to the top of your fridge, where an impressive amount of alcohol sits.

‘Perfect. I can't pine when I’m black out drunk,’ you think miserably.

You were so, so wrong.

An hour later you were dancing around in nothing but one of Paige’s shirts and your underwear, using a large bottle of tequila as a microphone. You were usually a quiet roommate, but the empty apartment was the perfect excuse to let out all the emotions you had been holding in for months.

You were so engrossed in your performance, you miss Paige walking in. When you finally turn to face her in a dramatic spin, hair flying everywhere, you gasp in shock.

Paige is grinning. “Havin’ fun, babe?” she questions, clearly amused by your drunken antics.

You were too inebriated to feel embarrassed, and you nod with a bright smile. You thrust the bottle towards the blonde, encouraging her to join in your fun.

“Oh, what the hell,” Paige concedes, taking the bottle and lifting it up to her mouth in a way that had you suddenly feeling sticky.

She was sinful when she was drunk. It was not your fault that you wanted the clingy Paige that accompanied large amounts of alcohol.

You spend the next hour taking turns sipping from the bottle, enjoying the feverish burning in your belly that follows each swallow. It doesn’t take much time for Paige to catch up to you, and you know she’s tipsy once she pulls you into her lap and starts drawing shapes onto your thighs. A quiet moan escapes from your lips at her touch; her fingers were fucking magic.

You turn to face Paige, straddling her on your couch. The tequila in your system was making you bolder than the blonde was accustomed to you being, but she welcomed it. Now face to face, with nothing but your flimsy panties in between Paige’s muscular leg and your slick center, you gaze at her with heavy lidded eyes.

She was so pretty, and her eye contact made you bashful. Breaking away from the heat of those blue eyes, you wrap your arms around her neck in a huge hug, causing Paige to let out a small chuckle at your affection.

You were nothing if not candor whilst drunk, so Paige is hardly surprised when you slur, “Connor hated how I look at you. That’s why he broke up with me.”

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Paige murmurs, “How do you look at me?”

“Like you hung the fuckin’ moon,” you sigh dreamily, the tequila making you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Oh, really, baby?” Paige questions, her voice growing deeper as you tilt your hips against her thigh once more in an attempt to feel some relief. Her presence was overwhelming your senses, and there was fire deep in your abdomen that was raging.

You forget to respond to her, too distracted from the way her leg felt so damn good against your clothed pussy. Attempting to lessen some of the desire building up inside you, you experimentally roll your hips, letting out a lustful whine as you realize how good it feels.

Paige is momentarily stunned at your boldness before she grabs your chin, tilting it up to meet her eyes that were full of want. Your pupils are blown, the irises just a small ring at this point, and she questions if you really want to do this.

Well obviously.

You nod your head, unsure if you had any words in you to describe just how badly you wanted Paige to fuck you.

“Baby, use your words,” Paige drawls. The huskiness of the term of endearment has you panting, and you struggle to moan out a “Yes, please just fuck me, P.”

That was all Paige needed. She places her hands underneath your ass, and lifts you up, carrying you towards your bedroom. You wrap your legs around her toned figure and meet her lips in a searing kiss.

In a second, it feels like all the shittiness has evaporated away, leaving you feeling reborn and renewed. Paige was a fucking drug to you, and you needed another hit.

Setting you down on your bed, Paige wastes no time stripping you of your oversized t-shirt, leaving you in your cotton panties that were now completely soaked. She swirls two fingers across the drenched fabric, smirking to herself that she was able to have such an effect on you. You whine at her deliberate actions and pout like a child who wasn’t getting their way. Paige laughs at your desperation and kisses the pout right off of your lips, licking into your mouth with fervor.

You tug at her shirt, wanting her to be as bare as you were, and she quickly slips it over her head, throwing it onto the floor. There was still an imbalance of clothing between the two of you, and you finger the waistband of Paige’s sweatpants, wanting to see every bit of her.

Shaking her head fondly at your blatant lack of shame, she gets off of the bed and shimmies out of her pants, leaving her in just a sports bra and those boxers you loved a little too much. From where you were still sitting on the bed, you shamelessly let your eyes rake over her toned figure. She was stunning, and you felt pride well up inside you, knowing you were finally going to have sex with the tall blonde.

It almost made the years of pining worth it.

“This better?” Paige asks, gesturing towards her body, and you giggle in response.

She climbs back onto the bed, a knee placed between your parted thighs and presses it against your soaked heat. You let out another loud moan at the contact, and your back arches off the bed from the pleasure.

There are no thoughts in your tipsy, drunk-in-love brain, and it shows. You’re mumbling in tangents, now, pleading with Paige to do more.

She finally concedes and goes to take off your panties. She’s being a little tease, slowly dragging them down your legs, while keeping intense eye contact with you. You are pretty sure the act makes your pussy drip even more.

Placing a leg over her shoulder, Paige opens you up and takes a second to admire the gleaming wet folds that were hers and only hers. You tremble under her stare, feeling deliciously vulnerable in a way that makes you want to submit to her every whim.

She inches closer to your pussy, pressing hot kisses all along your inner thighs. You revel in the buildup of it, trying to avoid being pushy. To no avail, your hips jut forward, slightly humping the air in an attempt to get some release.

Coming back up to nip your earlobe playfully, Paige whispers sensually, “Gotta be a good girl for me.”

You try to respond, but her use of the phrase ‘good girl’ makes the words catch in your throat. She resumes her kisses, trailing them down your throat to your chest, where she takes a detour in favor of showing your pretty, peaked nipples some attention.

Another whine leaves your lips like a prayer, as Paige leaves love bites over your tits. That would look like a damn masterpiece in the morning, and you’re already planning to take a Polaroid picture of you topless, covered in Paige’s hickeys.

Finally, she trails back down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your skin and leaving behind thousands of goosebumps in their wake. Your skin felt like it was on fire.

“Please, Paigey. Need you, baby,” you whimper brokenly, begging for some respite from the torturous teasing.

Paige gives in, dying to taste to you, and she licks a fat stripe on your pussy, starting at your dripping hole and ending in a tantalizing circle at your clit. Your hands fly to her head, trying not to pull at her hair too much.

She inserts her middle finger into you, drawing another slutty moan from your lips as she pumps into you vigorously.

There really is no way to describe just how good she is making you feel. The past six months of sex with Connor had been passionless and repetitive. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to go without this again.

Paige inserts another finger in your pussy with a smirk and continues to pummel them against your g-spot. The pressure in the pit of your belly was already building, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you exploded. Paige had taken a break from eating you out to kiss you once more, wanting you to taste your sweet wetness on her lips. It was possibly the hottest thing you had ever done, and the act pushes you closer to the finish line.

“Gonna cum, Paigey,” you moan wantonly, your thighs twitching and your back arching once more. The tequila in your system causing you to act especially debauched.

Paige loves it.

“C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me,” she moans in response against your soaked pussy, and you fall apart instantaneously.

High pitched whines and moans fill your bedroom as Paige continues thrusting her fingers in and out of you, slowing down as you ride out your high. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, you would be embarrassed with yourself, but there was no thought of that.

You needed to taste Paige.

Once Paige pulls out of you, licking her fingers off as if she was starved, you reattach your lips feverishly. You taste so good, but you are dying to know what she tastes like, and without warning, you strip the rest of her clothes off.

She lays her head on your mountain of pillows, blonde hair fanning in all directions. You can see the heaving of her chest, already anticipating your touch. Her lips are swollen in a way that’s positively sinful, and you think you’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as Paige does right now.

Straddling her, you lean in to suck at the soft skin underneath her left ear, pulling out moan after moan that went right to your still-buzzing pussy.

Trailing down to her tits, you knead one before attaching your hot mouth to the other, swirling your tongue around it and then nipping it experimentally.

“Fuck, babe. Please. Can’t do more teasing,” Paige grits out, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

Just as yours had, Paige’s hips squirm, and you grin up at her. You press kisses across her toned abdomen, mentally noting that her abs would be nice to ride another time, and finally settle at the opening of her legs.

Spreading her open, you gaze upon her glistening wetness momentarily before diving in. You could not possibly wait another second to taste her.

You two both moan at the contact, sending muffled vibrations against Paige’s pussy that brings forth a second, louder groan of pleasure.

Wanting to make her feel so, so good, you plunge two fingers into her sopping wetness, while flicking the tip of your tongue across her clit repeatedly without ceasing.

It had been awhile since you had eaten another girl out, but it came back to you immediately; it was like riding a bike.

Paige’s moans fill the room, and you think you could die there happily. You’re unrelenting. The combination of three of your fingers and that lavicious tongue of yours soon has Paige panting out, “fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

She rides out her orgasm, switching between moaning your name and naughty words that have you immediately wanting to do a second round.

You pull your fingers out of her wetness, making a show of licking them off in front of her before meeting her in an erotic kiss.

You lay back on your pillows, stifling your sighs and calming the beat of your heart from what you had just done with your best friend. You look over at her, hoping and praying that the sex you just had wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

Paige bites her lip, in a not so great attempt at hiding a smile, and pecks you on the lips. “That was way better than that fuckhead, Connor, right?” She was smug as hell. But she was not wrong.

“Considering his dick was three inches, uh yeah,” you laugh. “But joking aside, you were amazing.”

“Just glad I could make my girl feel better,” she replies.

“I’m your girl?” you ask, cheeks ablaze in a fiery heat of desire.

“You are now,” Paige chuckles, interlocking your pinkies together in an earnest proclamation of affection.

You were hers, and she was yours.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige #friends to lovers #angst #smut #wlw #paige bueckers x you #paige bueckers smut

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bibibahngg · 5 months ago

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【ｕｎｅｘｐｅｃｔｅｄｌｙ　ｙｏｕｒｓ】

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚pairing: han jisung x reader ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖summary: falling in love with your roommate jisung is chaotic in the best way. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚warnings/genre: fluff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that's basically it. like there's a cat? idk? ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖notes: i haven't posted my writing in a loooooong time, but i think i've improved a lot over that time ngl!! im a sucker for the golden retriever n black cat dynamic lol! anw, english isn't my first language, so there might be grammar issues and such. enjoyyyy

living with han jisung was like starring in your very own sitcom. it was chaotic, unpredictable, and occasionally hazardous to your health. like the time he tried to make pancakes.

"yn! breakfast is almost ready!" jisung called from the kitchen.

the phrase alone was enough to set off alarm bells. you hurried out of your room to investigate, and sure enough, smoke was already curling out of the kitchen doorway.

"ji, what did you do?" you demanded, rushing in to find him frantically fanning a smoking frying pan with a dish towel.

"it's fine! everything's under control!" he insisted, though the blackened.. um.. something... that was in the pan was saying something else. "why does it smell like you set a campfire in here?" "its artistic, okay? slightly charred is a valid flavor profile"

you snatched the pan from him and dumped the remains into the trash. "artistic my ass.. hannie, you literally almost set off the smoke alarm! what did i say about unsupervised cooking?"

he pouted, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just wanted to make breakfast for you, y'know? as a surprise.."

your annoyance softened a little. "that's sweet" you admitted. "but maybe next time, let's stick to cereal."

"or", he said, brightening, "you could cook and i could supervise!"

"you supervise? the guy who just tried to set the kitchen on fire?" "exactly! teamwork makes the dream work, right??"

you rolled your eyes affectionately, shoving a bowl of cereal into his hands. "here. eat this before you burn the whole building down"

"fine.. but i'm still your favorite roommate, right?"

"you're literally my only roommate, hanji.." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it was pouring rain when you returned from your grocery run, your arms full of bags and your raincoat looked.. rather suspicious. jisung, lounging on the couch, perked up as soon as you walked in.

"uhh yn, what's in your coat..?" "..groceries?" "nuh-uh. groceries don't move." "it's.. a new kind of.. pasta..?"

"c'mon, what's in there??", he reached for the zipper, but you backed away, clutching your coat protectively.

but just then, a tiny, muffled meow escaped from your coat. both of you froze. "...", jisung was pointing at you like you'd just confessed to a crime. "is there a cat in your coat?"

you sighed and unzipped your coat to reveal a soaking wet, shivering black kitten curled up inside. "i mean come on! couldn't just leave her, she was in a box by the road, and it was raining so hard! look at her, she's so small!"

jisung stared at the kitten for a long moment before it let out another tiny meow. "so… can we keep her? please?" you spoke again.

he groaned. "yn you know i'm a dog guy! what am i supposed to do with a cat?"

the kitten blinked up at him with its big, round eyes, and his resolve melted immediately. "..fine", he muttered. "but i'm naming her bean."

"bean?"

"yeah" he said smugly. "because she's black, like a coffee bean. and also because she's cute, like me." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it didn't take long for bean to integrate herself into your chaotic little household. she adored climbing onto jisung's lap while he was gaming, batting at his controller until he lost matches.

one night, you came home to find jisung lying on the couch, wearing an expression of pure betrayal. bean was perched on his chest, staring him down with judgment. a lot of judgement.

"what happened..?" you asked, setting your bag down.

"she ate my last slice of pizza" he said mournfully.

you snorted. "you left it on the coffee table. that's, like, basically an invitation."

"she's a menace", he grumbled. still, he smiled softly when he looked back at bean. "she's just like you."

"...excuse me?" "black cat energy." "what?" "y'know?? you're all aloof and sarcastic, but deep down, you care. you just don't show it much." were you in a romcom?

your cheeks warmed. "whatever, hannie..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it was just some thursday evening when everything changed. you were in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup, while jisung leaned on the counter, watching you.

"you're unusually quiet", you said without looking up.

"hm? 's nothing." his voice was soft, almost hesitant.

you glanced over your shoulder, only to find him staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place.

"you're acting weird lately."

he chuckled nervously. "i just-" he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "i think i'm in love with you."

the spoon in your hand froze mid-stir. "...what?"

"i'm serious", he continued. "you're… everything. you're funny and caring, even when you try not to be. you brought home a cat, for crying out loud, because you couldn't stand to see it suffer in the rain. you cook me dinner when i'm too lazy to fend for myself, and you make this place feel like home."

your heart thudded painfully in your chest as you turned to face him fully. "jisung-"

"i know it's a lot", he said quickly. "and i'll get it if you don't feel the same. but i couldn't keep it in anymore."

for a long moment, the room was silent except for the simmering stew. then, slowly, a smile crept across your face. "you're an idiot", you said, your voice shaking slightly.

"...wh-"

"i love you too", you admitted. you could feel your cheeks burning up. now, when i tell you his face lit up like a fucking christmas tree, i mean it. "wait, really?!" "..shut up and set the table before the food gets cold."

he beamed, practically skipping off to grab plates, while bean watched from her perch on the counter, tail flicking smugly. you could swear she was planning her next bit of chaos.

a/n: im actually happy abt this one so like?? yay??????? anws han jisung is bias wrecking me so hard so here you go also late late late LATE happy new years i hope you guys have a great year to come bye bye!!!!!!!! dividers credit to @strangergraphics <3

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