#trying to make something simple enough for my brain to understand

[pnkzero]

Hello! I JUST woke up and saw this, and since you asked for opinions, I'm going on an embarrassingly long and self indulgent rant about this topic! Below is what I wrote straight up after leaving the soft, warm comfort of my bed.

I've thought about this exact topic before and actually pretty recently, too. While I agree with most of what you wrote, I think frankly that Nny would simply hate the concept of "race" existing in the first place. I imagine he's not impervious to prejudice and hatred, which is clear in the comic since he's often picked on and sometimes even physically attacked for his looks.

Exempli gratia, this panel here in issue five, where he gets shoved around for being weak, ugly, skinny and generally unmasculine.

And he DOES say, in this exact panel, that people that use racial oppression as a shield while only reinforcing old stereotypes, just like you said. But I'm not entirely sure he'd be "anti-woke" or be mad at the idea of people finding community in certain aspects of themselves. I think he'd be more angry at the concept of race even BEING a thing. In another panel, that I CANNOT find for the life of me, Nny attacks a predator that was trying to hurt Todd. If memory doesn't fail me, he cuts off his hands and kills him, and shows Todd the predator's brain. He goes on about how some people call other people monsters, but that there's no such thing, as everyone has the same shit inside them and therefore is, ultimately, the same.

I think he would think similarly about race. I might be projecting; because I, myself, am BAFFLED at the notion that so many foreign people still genuinely use the word "race" to describe someone's ethnicity or even just skin colour. Einstein went over this a while ago, there's no such thing as race, just the human race. That said, I think Nny is rather intelligent, when he's lucid enough to actually follow reason, even if just for a little bit. And I think he'd come to my same conclusion in matters of race, albeit maybe more exaggerated in his way of thinking. That being that there is no such thing as race, and that everyone who thinks differently must be intellectually and emotionally stunted. I think he'd be able to understand that literally nothing distinguishes us from one another, apart from our actions (although as humans, our behaviour tends to fall into patterns).

We choose to act the way we do. The people that Nny kills chose to bully him. Nny chooses to kill people. Everything else, (skin colour, ethnicity, nationality, sexual attraction, fetishes, likes, dislikes...) is there by chance. We can't choose that. That's why I think Nny would only REALLY judge people based on their choices, hating whoever chooses to suck or yes, even someone who chooses to make their queer identity "their whole personality". All that to say, I don't think he'd reject his race. I think he'd reject the concept of race itself. I think he'd reject the idea that, because of the way he looks, he's categorised as something HE didn't choose. He can't choose to not be labelled as Mexican or brown like he can't choose to not be labelled as gay, ugly or skinny. He looks the way he does, and people will make assumptions based on his appearance. Full stop. That happens, to everybody, always. And I feel he would be especially pissed about being perceived, in general. Which is also why I think he kills, sometimes. We, the readers, are well aware he sometimes kills people for no apparent reason. I think one of the reasons he kills without an apparent motive is for the simple fact that he was being perceived, and it drives him mad that he can't stop it. Except he can. He can kill whoever perceives him, ultimately stopping that person from doing so. It gives him power over it; they can't perceive him as anything, because they are no longer conscious enough to.

And of course he would think race wars are stupid, everyone with more than three working neurons in their head can understand that fighting over physical attributes that are out of our control and/or slight and harmless cultural differences is stupid. (Not insulting you or anyone specific, just saying)

As for his gender identity, I completely agree. I don't think he's either cisgender OR heterosexual, but I do agree he'd HATE being labelled as anything. I don't necessarily think he doesn't like labels to begin with, at all, but I do think he'd hate being forced into a box by someone else... As shown in the comic, since he kills several people for calling him a faggot. In my opinion, in those cases, he's not JUST angry with being called a derogatory slur, he's angry that he's being CALLED. He never told these people whether or not he's attracted to men, therefore they shouldn't ASSUME he's attracted to anyone at all. Because that's his business, and unless he decided to share this peculiarity of his, nobody should bother him about it. The same could be said about his ethnicity. He never went out of his way to announce that he's Mexican, so nobody should feel the need to bother him about it.

Anyway, yeah. That's what I think. To make a long story very short, I (relatively) agree with you.

And this is just stuff that's on my mind, but Johnny's relationship with his race could be explored a little. Sometimes it frustrates me when I read that Vasquez gets annoyed that people call him pale, and asks the reader if he even looks like someone who is pale, but the thing is... all official stuff of Johnny that is colored could reasonably pass as white, and this comes across to me as Vasquez intending for Johnny to visibly not be white, yet failing to execute this properly... which is why I appreciate whenever I see fanartists draw him with a darker tone

Anyway, my point here was initially going to be about how Johnny most likely isn't connected to his heritage at all, and considers himself someone who "happens to be Mexican" rather than a Mexican—he's too dissociated to even factor in his race, but I like to imagine that there would be times where it catches him off guard, like maybe he'd eat some Mexican dish and suddenly it reminds of something—home, ostensibly, but his memory fails him and he can't be too sure—all he knows is that it's familiar.

I've also played around with what his relationship with language and bilingualism would be like, I personally believe that he has on multiple occasions forgotten that he knows Spanish, and will overhear conversations and go, Huh. Right. I can understand what they're saying. as a result of that aforementioned dissociation. It's not like he doesn't know he knows Spanish, it's just something he gets reminded of. I also don't think he is particularly fluent, but understands it just fine—he's probably better at listening and speaking (and can hold a conversation if suddenly thrown into one) than he is reading and especially writing.

Another thing I wanted to bring up is the idea of Johnny rejecting his race, not because of super internalized racism (although it does play a slight role into this kind of behavior), but because he's the type of person to be like "race wars are stupid, we all suck" and hate the kind of people who "use race as a shield" because they are oppressed—kind of in this "anti-woke" mindset (despite literally being the guy in the pic) when he's really just mad at the idea of anyone finding community in anything. He is so isolated that he can't fathom why people of color would want to do this and build community because he thinks everyone ever sucks and is against him one way or another. (Kind of like how I don't think Johnny is particularly cis, but would absolutely hate being called trans and/or nonbinary, and would hate the kind of queer person who "makes it their personality.") I can't tell if this last part here makes sense but let me know what you guys think, this isn't a topic I really see talked about.

[bobokitty]

After all these years, I finally registered what I need to do in order to draw Transformer characters: redesign them in a way that makes sense for my brain. I believe everyone else has already figured this out long ago for themselves LOL.

Sometimes it takes my brain years to grasp a simple concept lol

Anywho, poked around with Bumblebee to see if I would work anything out. I think my design could be refined more, but eyy, it's a start!

[sourappl3s]

How to Always get what you want.

its really simple but the only way literal way to get what you want is just to decide you have it now. not later, not soon, not in months but simply NOW. i know you get tired of hearing bloggers say “decide decide decide” well that’s because that’s literally what you have to do. thats how you win, they don’t say robotically affirm until your brains fried, you literally don’t have to do anything but decide. it took me a lot to actually apply the loa which is hilarious because i always thought there was something more to be discovered WHICH THERE ISN’T. i think most of you think that law of assumption is about changing the 3D when it is not because you know and understand that you’re not trying to get and change the 3D, thats not your job. your only job is to know you have it in imagination (4D) and thats literally it. stop trying to meet in the middle with the 3D, stop trying to GET something in the 3D. you understand that manifesting is not a progress right? once you decide to have something and accept it in IMAGINATION. you immediately have it, don’t contradict it, don’t think against it just know and accept you have it in your imagination. i cannot stress this enough because it took me forever to drill it in my brain but do not look for evidence in the 3D. its always neutral and dead, you do not look to the 3D for validation, the 3D looks at YOU for validation. thats like saying you want to change a mirror because its not showing you what you like, you don’t change a mirror you change self. mirrors reflect what you show it. i also hate when people are trying to say the 3D is your enemy it is NOT YOUR ENEMY. why would you make yourself your own enemy that makes no sense? all you have to do is acknowledge that its okay to not have it in the 3D and the fact that you have it in the 4D. no more trying to change the 3D. the 3D is a reflection of your 4D everything you say to yourself in imagination will be reflected. now i’m not saying doubts, intrusive, invasive, negative thoughts will manifest (unless you assume otherwise) i’m just saying reality is bending to your thoughts so whatever YOU want to happen or consistently place your awareness on WILL happen. this is just my belief but i personally don’t believe “feeling” is key. i think the key is just to know i already have it and move on with my life. yeah i’ll affirm for like 1 minute just to remind myself but other than that i don’t obsess over something i already have. i don’t panic, i don’t say “what if it doesn’t come” no. trust yourself. reality is always listening to you, this is why i became so successful in inducing the void, manifesting, getting what i want in less than one day because i simply decide and move on with life.

remember you’re not trying to convince yourself that you have your desires. you’re understanding that they’re yours now. nothing cannot take that away from you, once you decide you have something you have it now, please reread that phrase and understand what that means, literally embrace lazy manifesting, (credits to @/itsrlymine since i saw that on her blog). you literally don’t have to lift a finger after you decide you have something in imagination, because in imagination you’re not limited to anything, you always experience everything instantly in imagination and imagination is the true reality, it creates everything. so be bold and dare to assume, there’s nothing too big or too small. trust yourself and take that leap of faith. trust the unseen, trust theres always movement, i believe in you. don’t wait until 2030 for things to finally click for you because we’re getting closer to 2030. dont get left behind.

you get what you want when you decide you have it now.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 6

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 12k

a/n: this was originally like 8k words but the wings made me stress write for the rest of my saturday so we made it to 12k lmao. this chapter is just the rest of their lil cabin trip so enjoy 🤭. let me know what you think of the chapter if you can and feel free to let me know anything you’d like to see or if there’s any typos <3

—————————————————————————

Azzi blinked once, twice, five too many times against the morning light that seemed to be blinding her from the cabin windows. The spot next to her was empty and the only evidence that Paige had even been there was the faint scent she left behind on her pillows. It felt way too early to be awake on an off day so Azzi laid there for a few extra moments absently trailing her fingers over the space Paige had occupied however long ago. With real rest finally behind her, Azzi could understand what she felt last night more clearly. She had a gnawing ache in her chest, an uneasy flutter in her stomach every time Paige so much as looked at her.

She’d been in flings before, very casual relationships that never asked for much more than a familiar person to sleep with. But whatever the hell she felt for Paige lived under her skin, in the small crevices of her brain. Paige had a way of setting her pulse off rhythm by just existing, of showing up in her thoughts when Azzi was doing something as simple as drinking a smoothie. These thoughts had a way of making her throat feel like sandpaper and gave her a hollow ache behind her eyes because she knew they weren’t anything…technically. Not yet at least.

She was sure Paige felt something for her. She just didn’t know if it was a simple attraction, if she was lining up to be in another casual relationship because trying to read Paige was like trying to catch a reflection in moving water.

Eventually after growing tired of her own thoughts, she rolled out of the bed with a soft groan, grabbing her sweater on the way out of Paige’s room. She walked quietly back to the guest room she was supposed to sleep in, brushing her teeth and pulling her slightly tangled curls into a low bun.

When she made her way downstairs, the living room and kitchen were empty with no sign of Paige.

Azzi grabbed a banana from the counter before slipping out the back door, the crisp morning air nipping at her exposed legs as she made her way around the side of the cabin. When she reached the gym she heard what was becoming a familiar sound of Paige hitting a bag.

She pushed the door open and sure enough Paige was standing in front of a hanging bag as she moved through precise movements. All of them were thrown with the kind of control that reflected just how much time she put into her craft.

Azzi leaned silently against the doorframe as she ate her banana, letting her eyes wander over the scene. Paige’s hair was pulled up haphazardly, a few damp strands clinging to her neck, her shirt clinging to her torso. She moved like the world faded away when she was training, like her and the bag were the only things in existence.

When she was done with her banana Azzi tossed it in the nearby trash can and pushed off the doorframe. “Weren’t we just here less than twelve hours ago?”

Paige glanced over with her breath coming steadily but a little heavy, sweat trailing down her temple. She gave a small shrug in response, letting her knuckles connect with the bag again.

Azzi tilted her head. “You good?”

“Mmm,” was all Paige offered, her gaze drifting back to the bag as if it held answers she still needed to knock loose.

Azzi stepped closer moving around to the far side of the bag. She placed her hands on it, steadying it as Paige was about to throw another combo.

“I wouldn’t suggest that,” Paige said, pausing mid-motion.

Azzi raised her eyebrow, keeping her hands where they were. “What, am I gonna mess up your rhythm or something?”

Paige shook her head, a small chuckle escaping her. “Not tryna hurt you.”

“How would I get hurt just holdin—”

Paige stepped forward slightly, pressing her hand against the bag so it pushed into Azzi’s hands. Her gaze dipped, nodding toward Azzi’s shooting hand.

Azzi glanced down, noticing how her wrist was bending awkwardly under the pressure.

“If I throw a hard elbow into the bag, like I was about to,” Paige said, her eyes still on Azzi’s wrist, “it’ll fuck that up real quick. You’ll feel it in your elbow too.”

Azzi slowly pulled her hands back, lifting them in surrender, and Paige gave a small smile before turning back to the heavy bag. The sound of her hits continued immediately after.

Azzi watched her for a moment before asking, “Why are you in here so early?”

“I fought like shit.”

Azzi leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest . “How so?”

Paige’s fist sank into the bag.“They knew I watched tape,” she said between strikes. “So they made the fight unpredictable. Switched up every round. Took me too long to find a rhythm.” Her right leg snapped up into a sharp kick. “My footwork was slow. Escape time was off. I wasn’t reading her tells quick enough and got a fuckin concussion cause of it.”

Each of her sentences was punctuated by a harder connection to the bag—frustration dripping into every maneuver. Azzi pushed off the wall, a little unease growing in her chest as she approached.

“I wasn’t sharp,” Paige said, her voice low this time, almost like she was just speaking to herself. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Azzi stepped behind the bag again, gently placing her hands on both sides, hoping Paige would register her in time. She caught the subtle flicker in Paige’s eyes just before her next punch landed as she halted mid-swing, breathing hard, eyes moving up to meet Azzi’s. “Azzi, I just told you not to do that.”

Azzi made sure her voice was soft when she spoke. “You know there’s no such thing as perfect, right?”

Paige stared at her for a moment with sweat glistening along her eyebrows. Her jaw was tight, her knuckles most likely red underneath her gloves.

Azzi tilted her head to the side slightly. “You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to be human.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, shaking out her hands. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I’m not saying you should,” Azzi said, keeping her voice soft. “I’m just saying don’t beat yourself up for not winning every second. That’s not what makes great people great.”

Paige looked away for a moment, wiping her neck on the towel nearby with her jaw tight. She didn’t respond to Azzi’s words, her breath still coming out in short, controlled bursts.

Azzi smiled as she watched Paige process her words. To soften the moment she added, “You look kinda good when you’re brooding and all that, though. But that’s beside the point.”

That earned a huff from Paige. “That so?”

Azzi shrugged. “I make it a point not to lie to people who can knock my head off.”

Paige cracked a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She tilted her head a few times, still trying to bring herself down from the frustration humming in her muscles. When it didn’t work she sighed quietly. “Can you move for me?” she asked, not unkindly but edged with a slight tension. “I gotta let it out or Imma tweak eventually, and I’m not tryna do that.”

Azzi didn’t move right away, but she gave her a soft look. “You’re not as bad as you think Paige.”

Paige chuckled. “You haven’t seen me pissed off.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on her, watching the way Paige’s hands flexed at her sides, itching to hit something again. Slowly, she stepped aside. “Okay,” she said softly. “Do what you gotta do.”

Azzi turned to walk away, but before she could take more than a few steps, Paige reached out, her fingers wrapping gently around Azzi’s wrist.

“Thank you,” Paige said, making her voice more sincere than before. “For checking. I’ll come back inside in a lil bit.”

Azzi gave her a small nod, her fingers giving Paige’s forearm a soft squeeze, lingering longer than she needed to. “Don’t stay out too long,” she said before turning and walking back inside.

…

Paige came in about 45 minutes later, her shirt clinging to her skin and her grey shorts noticeably damp with her sweat. She didn’t say anything to announce her presence, just wiped her face with the towel around her neck and made her way into the kitchen. Azzi, who was stretched out on the couch, lifted her head watching her move.

Paige started grabbing ingredients: frozen fruit, almond milk, protein powder. “You want one?”

Azzi nodded, pushing herself up a bit more on the couch. “Yeah, sure.” She stayed where she was, watching the way Paige moved around the kitchen. Eventually, she slid off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter just a few steps away. Paige didn’t look at her, just kept blending until the machine whirred to a stop.

“Feel better?”

Paige shrugged, pouring the smoothie into two cups. “Well enough,” she mumbled. Her voice was a little horse, like she hadn’t used it at all since Azzi left the gym—potentially letting out a few frustrated yells.

She handed one of the cups to Azzi and finally looked at her. With the way Azzi was leaning on the counter, Paige’s frame loomed a little bit over hers naturally. Azzi took a sip, her eyes on Paige as she tried the drink. She pulled back with a slight smile and a shrug. “It’s alright.”

Paige shook her head, letting out a scoff. “Aight bro.”

Azzi reached out to stop her from moving away, her fingertips brushing against Paige’s stomach only to immediately recoil with a scrunched nose. “You’re sweaty.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, laughing a little. “Observation of the year,” she said before taking a sip of her smoothie. “I just came out the gym, what you expect?”

Azzi wiped her hand on her thigh exaggeratedly. “A towel, maybe? A rinse? Courtesy?”

Paige stepped a little closer, crowding Azzi just enough to make her lean back against the counter again. “You knew what this was, you came in the kitchen on your own.”

Azzi gave her a playful glare. “I came in here for a smoothie.”

“You’re still standin’ here.”

Azzi paused, eyes moving between Paige’s eyes and lips before saying, “That’s your fault.”

Paige’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “How?”

Azzi nodded toward the small space between them, then motioned subtly between their bodies. “This.”

Paige shifted, about to step back, but Azzi’s fingers grabbed her shirt, stopping her.

“Thought I was sweaty,” Paige said, smiling a little.

Azzi’s hand slid under Paige’s shirt slightly, her fingertips resting against damp skin. “You are,” she said. “But now I don’t care.”

Paige's eyes moved down to where Azzi’s hand was resting under her shirt. “Little bipolar, no?”

“Or a woman who’s allowed to change her mind.”

Paige’s lips twitched into a half-smirk. “Fair.”

She looked down at Azzi, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth a little.

Azzi shifted under her gaze. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not lookin’ at you like anything,” Paige said. “Just usin’ my eyes.”

Azzi arched her eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Paige grinned, then closed her eyes dramatically, lifting her hands in a phoney surrender.

Azzi snorted, giving her a light shove in the chest. “You’re so stupid.”

Paige stepped back with the push, laughing under her breath. “Assaulting me in my own kitchen for just lookin’ at you is crazy.”

Azzi leaned against the counter again, sipping her smoothie trying to hide that she was a little flustered. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Paige shook her head, wiping a bit of sweat from her temple with the towel still around her neck. “You started it.”

“No, you started it. Walking in here all...” she gestured vaguely at Paige’s body, “...like that.”

Paige looked shocked. “So what, I’m the problem now?”

Azzi met her eyes, holding the stare. “I never am.”

They stood there with the tension increasing between them. Paige leaned in a little, her eyes drifting to Azzi’s lips purposefully.

“You gonna keep lookin’ at me, or do something?”

Paige swallowed once, then smiled. “You keep tellin’ me I’m sweaty so I should prolly go handle that.”

Azzi took a small step forward, close enough that their chests were touching. “I already said I didn’t care.”

Another small moment passed before Paige took a step back with a grin, heading for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

Paige looked over her shoulder. “Gotta go shower. Not tryna drench you with my sweat.”

Azzi laughed before mumbling to herself, “Bit late for that.”

…

The rest of the day was comfortably slow. Exactly what both of them needed.

They started with a couple of movies, laying on the couch with Paige’s legs stretched out in front of her and Azzi’s legs thrown over her lap despite the side-eye Paige gave her when she initially did it. Azzi was in charge of picking the first movie and without saying anything put on a romance movie. Paige once again gave her the biggest side-eye known to man, barely holding back a groan as the soft piano music kicked in. She only made it ten minutes in before glancing at Azzi and saying, “This for real what we’re watching?”

Azzi didn’t even look at her. “Shh. Let your heart grow a few sizes.”

An hour later, Paige had to physically bite her lip to stop herself from laughing when she noticed Azzi wiping her eyes. “Yo you crying?”

Azzi sniffled dramatically. “Mind your business.”

Lunch was simple, mostly because Azzi insisted on making it and Paige insisted on doubting it. The moment Azzi put the plate in front of her, Paige squinted at the meal.

“You made me leaves?”

Azzi gave her a look. “It’s arugula, actually.”

Paige poked it with her fork a few times like it might fight back. “Tastes like grass.”

“Keep talking and I’ll go back and add kale.”

Despite the back and forth, Paige ended up clearing her plate, mumbling something about it not being "terrible" after the third bite. Azzi only rolled her eyes and stole a piece of chicken off Paige’s plate.

After that the rest of the afternoon passed with small conversation, a second movie (this one more tolerable by Paige’s standards), and a few hours of simply existing in each other’s space for the first time.

Eventually, as the evening started to creep in, it was time to get ready. Paige had been downstairs for 30 minutes, dressed in simple black pants and a light button-up, her hair pulled into a bun. She was sitting on the couch with her phone, trying to act casual but checking the stairs every few minutes like clockwork.

When Azzi finally walked down the stairs she had on a simple black dress, her naturally curly hair falling around her shoulders, and a subtle glow to her skin from the soft makeup she put on.

Paige did a double take from the couch. Her hand that was draped over the backrest, tensed as her eyes tracked Azzi’s every step.

Azzi noticed her stare almost immediately and raised her eyebrow. “What?”

Paige blinked once then let her eyes roam a little more deliberately the second time. “You’re gonna make us late.”

Azzi glanced at the time on her phone. “I’m right on time.”

Paige finally pulled her eyes away saying, “Not what I meant.”

Azzi caught on, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, okay.”

Paige stood up, brushing her palms over her pants to smooth out any creases. Azzi’s eyes take a slow pass over her, appreciating the fit of Paige’s outfit, the way her button-up hugged her frame, and how that bun had her thinking unspeakable things.

“You clean up alright.”

Paige scoffed. “Alright?”

Azzi just smiled, walking past her toward the door. Paige followed, shaking her head as she reached for the door, holding it open for Azzi to step through, her hand brushing against Paige’s as she passed.

“Not bad at the chivalry thing either,” she whispered, half to herself.

The drive to the restaurant was pretty quiet. Azzi was starting to realize that Paige had her moments. Times when she was more open and willing to talk, and others where she just…wasn’t. This seemed to be one of the quieter ones, so Azzi didn’t press for a conversation. She just leaned into the silence, watching the trees pass.

Every now and then, she’d feel Paige’s eyes on her. It was just quick glances at first, then longer ones once they got off the highway, like she was studying her. Azzi didn’t say anything about it, just tucked the observation away for later.

When Paige finally pulled to a stop they were outside of a small restaurant near the water. The sky was starting to streak in soft pinks and oranges, taking on a sort of quiet glow that made everything feel a little slower, a little softer.

“You been here before?” Azzi asked with her eyes still trained on the building and the stretch of a beach behind it.

Paige nodded, keeping her gaze ahead. “Yeah a few times. Usually during breakfast or lunch when it’s more casual though.”

Azzi hummed at that as a small smile grew. “So you’re really showing me all your spots hm?”

Paige gave a subtle shrug, like it was no big deal that she was taking Azzi to one of her favorite places to go when the world seemed too big. “Just figured you deserved something decent to eat.”

Before Azzi could give a sarcastic response, Paige was already stepping out of the car. A few seconds later, the passenger door opened and Paige was offering Azzi her hand to help her step out. Azzi didn’t need to know that Paige had never done any of this for anyone else. That she actually used to clown Ben when she would see him doing shit like this for Cam.

Azzi took her hand as she stepped out with a smile on her face that she didn’t even try to hide. “You’re committed to this chivalry thing, huh?”

Paige just shook her head before letting their hands drop and walking with her toward the entrance.

The inside of the restaurant was warm and elegant with dim lighting. After checking in with the hostess, they were led through the main dining area and out toward the back. The outdoor patio opened up to an incredible view of the beach and the eventual sunset, the sound of the water soft in the background.

Azzi glanced around as she settled into her seat. “Okay, this is kinda perfect.”

Paige leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting out toward the water. “Told you I’m not a bum.”

Azzi smiled across the table, her fingers toying with the edge of her menu. “So…what do you usually get when you come here?”

Paige met her eyes. “You ordering what I get now?”

Azzi smiled. “I’m just trying to understand you.”

Paige lifted an eyebrow. “Good luck with that.”

The restaurant patio had a dreamlike quality to it. There were soft amber string lights that twinkled overhead, tangled with ivy vines that framed the white wooden beams. A breeze rolled in from the water, lifting the edge of the linen tablecloths slightly and carrying the scent of salt that mixed with the jasmine candle that was lit at the table.

Paige sat comfortably with her elbow resting on the arm of her chair, fingers lightly tapping the stem of her glass. She didn’t say much to start, just watched Azzi; her curls blowing slightly when there was wind, her eyes shifting across the menu.

When Azzi looked up she caught Paige looking but didn’t say anything. “I’m torn. Do I want the salmon or the pasta with—”

“Pasta.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes playfully. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“You were about to say shrimp pasta. I could feel it.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Okay, maybe I was.”

“I just saved you some time princess . You’re welcome.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at the comment but ended up ordering the salmon anyway. Paige stuck with the pasta.

As the food and drinks came—just sparkling water tonight . Their conversation grew steadier.

“You said you came here a few times before. You ever just…sit out there?” Azzi asked, gesturing toward the shoreline.

Paige leaned back a little, eyes squinting at the horizon because she didn’t have on her glasses or contacts. “Not as much as I’d prolly like to. When I come here it’s usually quick. Food and go.”

“So never the romantic beach walk?”

Paige gave her a side glance at the subtle question. “A romantic beach walk with myself?”

Azzi smiled but didn’t say anything else on the topic.

They talked about random things. Azzi told Paige how she used to daydream about being a chef when she was younger but couldn’t commit to anything that required her to chop onions everyday without crying. Paige admitted that she tried to learn the guitar but gave up after a few weeks because her fingers hurt.

“You quit because of a little finger pain?”

“My fingertips felt like I was slicing them in half after an hour of practicing.”

“Yeah, but imagine you serenading me today if you stuck with it?”

“No chance,” Paige said, and Azzi laughed, throwing her balled up straw paper at Paige.

Halfway through the meal, Azzi leaned forward looking a little suspicious. “Yours smells better.”

“Because it is,” Paige said flatly as she chewed on her food.

Azzi stared, then leaned forward further, extending her fork toward Paige’s plate.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

“Just one bite.”

“That’s how it starts.”

Azzi pouted, giving Paige her full brown eyes. “Please?”

Paige stared at her for a few seconds, fighting a smile, then slowly pushed her plate toward her. “One.”

Azzi tried the pasta and her eyes closed blissfully and a huge grin overcame her face.

Before she could even ask Paige sighed and grabbed Azzi’s plate before pushing hers toward the curly haired girl.

Azzi thanked her and did a little dance in her seat before she started to eat again.

They kept talking throughout the meal and at one point Azzi said something under her breath that was dry and completely unexpected from her and Paige let out a laugh that surprised herself. Not a short snort. Not a chuckle. An actual laugh that sounded completely genuine.

Azzi’s eyes lingered on her after that. “You should laugh more.”

Paige looked at her, still amused and now a little flustered. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. It sounds pretty and it looks good on you.”

Paige sucked her teeth as she chuckled. “You’re really pushing it tonight.”

“I mean,” Azzi said, leaning back in her chair and sipping her drink, “I’m calling a spade a spade.”

The sky darkened until only the soft amber bulbs and the fire of the candlelight on the table kept them illuminated. The patio started to thin out as other couples finished their meals, but Paige and Azzi lingered just talking.

By the time the plates were cleared, Paige had moved her chair slightly and sat with her body turned slightly toward Azzi. Azzi mirrored her with her chin resting on the palm of her hand.

They ordered one dessert to share because Azzi didn’t want to eat it alone. It was some sort of lemon tart Azzi picked and they took turns taking bites until it was gone. Paige’s favorite part was watching Azzi close her eyes after the first taste and she told herself Azzi didn’t need to know that she didn’t even like lemon cake that much.

Paige eventually stood and pulled her wallet out, brushing off Azzi’s attempt to split the bill with a shake of her head mumbling about not being stupid.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

“Pretty much,” Paige said.

Azzi shook her head, standing to go back through the restaurant to the parking lot, but Paige reached out and gently caught her by the wrist nodding her head toward the beach.

The smile on Azzi’s face was impossible to hide. “Seriously?”

Paige gave a small shrug. “Figured you mentioned that walk on the beach for a reason earlier.”

Azzi smiled at that and Paige crouched slightly, motioning for her to step out of her heels. Azzi placed her hands on Paige’s shoulders for balance, stepping out one foot at a time. Paige put both of the shoes in one hand and helped Azzi step off of the patio.

“You’re romantic,” Azzi said as they started walking along the shore.

Paige chuckled. “Am I?”

Azzi nodded, slipping her hand into Paige’s and lacing their fingers together.

Paige glanced down at their hands, raising an eyebrow like she was about to make a comment about it but decided against it. Instead, she let her thumb gently graze the side of Azzi’s hand as they walked.

The beach was quiet at this hour, only a few scattered lights from distant houses and the moon casting a shimmer on the waves.

“So what do you usually do after a date?” Azzi asked.

“I don’t usually do dates.”

Azzi looked over, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

Paige side-eyed her, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Why do you sound surprised? Have you met me?”

Azzi laughed, thinking about it. “Fair,” she conceded. Then, a little quieter, “You’re just…you. So it’s a little surprising.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi shook her head, grinning. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of answering that.”

“Whatever,” Paige mumbled, but she was smiling as they walked along the sand, the silence between them easy.

A minute passed, filled by the sounds of the waves. Then Azzi asked out of nowhere, “What’s the hardest you’ve ever been hit?”

Almost instantly Paige's brain rewound to the moment. “Shit,” she said, shaking her head laughing a little. “I was out with Cam and them. I feel like I’m always getting into some shit when I go out with them… Anyway I don’t even remember what had me pissed off that night. Just one of those nights where somebody blinking at me was pissing me off.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted at this information.

“I was tryna stay to myself, just vibe,” Paige went on, “but this dude kept talkin’ shit. Just chirpin’ in my ear, So of course, I get up.”

“Of course,” Azzi echoed, biting back a smile as Paige tells the story.

Paige gestured with her hand holding Azzi’s heels like she was reenacting it. “I didn’t even get to him. Bro met me halfway and rocked my shit. I mean, like, fully body weight rocked my shit. I barely saw it. Whole night turned sideways after that.”

Paige shook her head as she thought about it. “I blacked out after that…not like passed out, but I just tweaked. Next thing I know, Cam and Rae are dragging me off him and Cam’s yelling in my ear about how I’m going to get arrested.”

Azzi burst out laughing. “You beat his ass?”

���Unfortunately,” Paige said. “I don’t even remember connecting the first hit, just remember how quiet it got after.”

Azzi leaned into her a little bit, still laughing. “I’m so glad I’m on your good side.”

Paige gave her a look. “Are you?”

Azzi glanced down at their linked hands, then back up at her with her eyebrows raised.

Paige shook her head at that, laughing a little. “I got hit with a lawsuit after that night, though.”

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm.” Paige nodded. “I settled before it went too far though. Dude didn’t want his face all over social media”

Azzi tilted her head. “How much?”

Paige shrugged. “Like sixty grand, I think.”

Azzi blinked. “You think?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Have you had any more like that?” Azzi asked.

Paige looked over. “Lawsuits?”

“I was thinking more like…blacking out, but yeah that works.”

Paige hummed, thinking about it. “No more lawsuits, thank God. But blacking out? Maybe a few more times. It’s rare, though. Takes a lot for me to get there.”

Azzi nodded. “What kind of ‘a lot’ are we talkin’?”

Paige exhaled, her eyes narrowing like she was filtering through memories. “It’s usually not just one thing. It builds. Pressure, fatigue, frustration…being misunderstood. Feeling cornered.” Paige pauses for a moment before saying, “I can deal with all the physical shit that comes with fighting but I struggle with the silent stuff that creeps in.”

Azzi let that sit between them, then asked, “So what do you do now, when you feel it…I don’t know…building?”

Paige looked down at their hands again, thumb brushing lazily over Azzi’s knuckles. “I’m still figuring it out. Some days I just hit the bag until I damn near can't feel my hands. When that doesn't work I come here to Minnesota, try to recenter.”

Azzi nodded at that saying, “That's healthy-ish. Well at least the coming to Minnesota part.”

They walked a few steps in silence before Paige nudged Azzi with her shoulder. “You ever black out?”

Azzi grinned. “Emotionally or legally?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

Azzi laughed. “Emotionally? I’m sure. Usually when I let things build, kinda the same as you. But legally?” She squinted at Paige. “I’d probably cry if someone sent me a letter with the word ‘lawsuit’ in it.”

Paige bumped her again saying, “Of course you would. We gotta toughen you up, princess.”

Azzi looked appalled at the thought. “Toughen up and princess don’t go together.”

“Yes they do. Ever seen a pissed-off disney princess in one of those sword fights? Shit’s crazy.”

Azzi squinted at her. “You’re comparing me to a Disney character now?”

“Depends,” Paige shrugged. “You more Elsa or Mulan?”

Azzi scoffed. “Mulan, easy.”

Paige gave her a once-over. “I can see it. Definitely got some fight in you but you cry at romance movies, so...”

“That’s called being in tune with my emotions.”

Paige snorted. “That’s called soft.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Seems like you like that.”

Paige didn’t respond to that, just looked ahead at the shoreline, before a smile she couldn’t control formed and she looked away shaking her head.

Azzi stopped, tugging Paige gently until they both stood still. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Paige glanced at her, her blue eyes smiling for her. “You’re welcome.”

There was a softness in the way they looked at each other now, like they were more aware of one another.

“So what happens after this?”

Paige shrugged, like she didn’t want to put too much pressure on it. “Whatever you want to happen.”

Azzi smiled. “What if I just wanna keep walking with you for a little longer?”

Paige tugged Azzi with her saying, “Then we’ll keep walking.”

The two of them walked for what felt like hours, their footsteps slow as they talked about everything and nothing all at once. From favorite albums to childhood nicknames, to the most random hypotheticals Azzi could come up with just to hear Paige’s dry responses. The beach completely emptied and all lights turned off, leaving just the sound of the water and the occasional laugh between them echoing into the dark.

Eventually, they started making their way back toward the car, Paige promising that she knew where they were going and that she wouldn’t get Azzi lost. The breeze had cooled enough for Azzi to fold her arms over herself, though she didn’t say anything about it because she was almost positive that Paige would strip out of her shirt just to warm her slightly.

Halfway through the walk, Azzi groaned. “My feet hurt.”

Paige looked over at her, unimpressed. “Thought you were supposed to be an athlete?”

Azzi shot her a glare. “You didn’t tell me I’d be walking miles on our first date.”

Paige snorted, slowing down her pace. “We’re almost there.”

Azzi stopped in place, lifting one foot out of the sand in dramatic protest to ‘inspect’ it. “Define ‘almost.’”

Paige turned toward her, folding her arms as she looked at her. “You’re capable of walking, Azzi.”

“I’m capable of a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I should have to do them.”

Paige sighed like she was fighting a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Azzi said sweetly, extending her arms. “Gimme a piggy back ride.”

“You’re outta your mind.”

Azzi just blinked at her, still holding her arms out.

Paige groaned but turned around, crouching a little. “Get on before I change my mind.”

Azzi lit up, carefully hopping onto Paige’s back, arms wrapping around her shoulders as she smiled. “See? Was that so hard?”

Paige adjusted her grip under Azzi’s legs and made sure she still had her heels secured in her hand before she straightened up. “You’re lucky I think you’re cute.”

Azzi rested her chin on Paige’s shoulder. “I know.”

They walked the rest of the way like that. Azzi’s curls occasionally brushed against Paige’s cheek, and every now and then she’d hum softly under her breath, like she didn’t want the moment to end.

“Hey, Paige?” she said quietly in her ear after a while.

“Mhmm?”

Azzi paused, like she was searching for the right words. Then she decided, “Thanks for tonight.”

Paige gave Azzi’s thigh a gentle squeeze with her hand.

…

By the time they got back to the cabin, the sky was pitch black, scattered with stars, and the wind had grown quieter away from the water.

Inside, the warmth of the cabin was a nice contrast to the outside world. Paige moved on autopilot kicking off her shoes and pulling her hair down from the bun, and heading straight for the shower. Her muscles still ached from being in the gym early in the morning and the hours-long walk, but it was the good kind of tired. The kind that settles in your bones after a day that would be sure to hold memories that you’d look back on.

After washing off the ocean and sand, she tossed on a tank top and boxers. Her voice was already a little horse when she went to go say goodnight to Azzi who was in the middle of taking off her makeup. She offered a soft, “Goodnight,” before going back to her room and falling face first into the mattress.

It was nearly 3 a.m. when the knock came on Paige’s door.

Paige barely opened her eyes this time. Her face was buried deep into the pillows, her limbs felt heavy and unwilling to move so she just yelled out with a hoarse voice. “Come in.”

The door creaked open a second later, quiet footsteps walking across the floor. Paige didn’t lift her head. But she felt Azzi standing there lingering in place.

“What’re you doin’?” Paige asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

There was a pause. Paige shifted slightly, patting the empty space beside her without lifting her head. “Don’t stand there like a creep.”

That made Azzi smile as she crossed the rest of the room and slipped under the covers next to her, the mattress dipping under her weight.

They didn’t touch at first. Paige was still on her stomach with her face pressed into the pillows and Azzi laid on her side, watching the curve of Paige’s back rise and fall.

“Long day,” Azzi whispered after a while.

Paige hummed in agreement. “Mhm.”

Azzi starts tossing around for a few minutes restlessly shifting. At first, Paige ignores it, chalking it up to the usual fight to get comfortable after being hot. But when Azzi rolls again, her elbow brushing Paige’s side, Paige groans softly and blindly reaches out, wrapping an arm around Azzi and tugging her back against her chest and tangling their legs.

“Jesus,” she mumbled, her lips moving against Azzi’s shoulder. “You don’t ever stay still?”

Azzi didn’t answer, just exhaled softly. The sound wasn’t so much from her being tired, more so…thoughtful. Her breathing was different from the night before. Less casual. A little heavier.

Paige noticed, vaguely but she was so far gone from exhaustion that her brain wrote it off as nothing.

She kept her arm draped around Azzi, her fingers resting on Azzi’s bare stomach from her only having on a sports bra. Paige’s eyes were already closing again when she felt Azzi subtly pressing herself back into her.

Paige’s eyebrows knit together, even in her half-sleep daze as she tightened her grip on Azzi slightly.

Another few minutes passed. Then Azzi shifted again a little more deliberately this time as she pushed herself back into Paige’s space more firmly. Her hips met Paige’s body with a subtle arch.

Paige blinked a few times, suddenly feeling wide awake.

Her breath got stuck a little. Not in an alarming or surprising way. Just in the sudden rush of clarity. Her arm stayed locked around Azzi’s waist, but her fingers flexed against her stomach slightly.

“…Azzi,” she said softly, her breath warm against the back of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. She reached down, gently lacing her fingers with Paige’s where they rested on her stomach. Then she whispered a little recklessly, “I thought you were tired.”

Paige swallowed hard, her nose brushing Azzi’s hair. “I was.”

Azzi let her thumb stroke across Paige’s knuckles. “Are you still?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, her eyes were heavy but the rest of her body felt fully awake. She tightened her hold to pull Azzi back into her again, not saying anything but answering.

“I don’t think that’s a no.”

Paige chuckled softly, pressing her forehead against the curve of Azzi’s shoulder. “It’s a ‘don’t start something you not ready to finish.’”

Azzi didn’t answer with words. She reached down and gently guided Paige’s hand beneath the waistband of her pajama shorts. Settling Paige’s hand where her body was screaming for attention. Her core was already warm from the wetness between her legs that Paige felt instantly. Paige’s fingers twitched and Azzi responded by pressing Paige’s fingers through her folds, a soft inhale escaping her lips at the feeling.

Slowly Paige trailed her hand up and used her middle finger to trace small slow circles against Azzi’s clit, each one softer than the last.

Azzi let out a sigh and tilted her head back against Paige’s shoulder. Letting her body melt into her.

Neither of them said anything. There was only the sound of them breathing, Azzi’s having shifted from steady to something heavier. Paige could feel everything, the rise and fall of her chest, the wetness that was growing underneath the pads of her fingers, the tension in Azzi’s body that wasn’t entirely tension but anticipation.

Paige kept her lips close to Azzi’s ear, but didn’t speak. Just allowing her breathing to be another form of stimulation.

Her thumb brushed against Azzi’s thigh as her middle finger continued to move in slow circles learning what got reactions out of Azzi.

Azzi’s breathing deepened and her chest started to rise slower as she took fuller breaths. Each of her inhales drawn out like she was trying to hold it together.

Paige’s hand didn’t move from Azzi’s clit. The way she was moving was patient. The position they were in was intimate in a way that made it hard for Azzi to breathe.

Azzi let out a quiet, broken whisper when Paige added a little more pressure. “That feels good…”

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the crease of Azzi’s jaw. Her lips lingered there, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin as she brushed her nose against Azzi’s neck, before she pulled back.

Azz’s legs somewhat twitched as her fingers clutched the pillow in front of her, then released it, before clutching again.

She shuffled her hips against Paige’s hand trying to feel more of her but Paige kept the same gentle circles against Azzi’s center with the pad of her finger, like she was committed to the rhythm.

Azzi swallowed hard and her breath hitched when Paige’s fingers moved toward her entrance, gathering her wetness before moving back up again. Azzi’s jaw tightened, pushing her thighs together subtly to add more pressure.

Paige felt the tension building in Azzi’s body, felt the way Azzi arched into her hand so she pressed a little more firmly against Azzi’s bud, occasionally grazing her lips against Azzi’s neck and shoulder.

Azzi exhaled shakily. “Fuck Paigie…”

Paige kissed her just under her and whispered, “I know,” dipping her fingers back down causing Azzi to whimper quietly.

Azzi doesn’t know how long Paige circles her clit. Doesn’t know how many times she sucks in a breath when Paige dips her fingers down just to move them back up to perfectly circle her clit again.

The heat initially from Azzi’s chest was lower in her stomach, a pooling sensation that made it hard for her to stay still. Her body kept shifting: her legs tightening together, then relaxing when Paige kissed her skin, her hips pressing forward into Paige’s hand, her breath falling out in uneven, whimpers.

“Shit Paige…” she choked out. The sound made Paige’s lips twitch into a faint smile against her neck as she sucked on the spot gently, tracing it with her tongue.

Azzi let out another whimper, that was louder. She felt flushed and breathless, her thighs were trembling slightly. It only made her wetter when she thought about how close she was to coming undone just from the pad of one of Paige’s fingers.

When Paige saw Azzi’s eyes starting to flutter she pulled her finger away, to cup Azzi’s center with her palm.

Azzi let out a surprised sound at the loss of stimulation her body was aching for “Wait…”

“Trust me,” Paige whispered before pulling her into a slow kiss. Mirroring the way Paige’s fingers were moving, there was nothing rushed about the kiss. Paige kissed her like she knew exactly how to control Azzi’s body, like she was trying to slow down the sensations pulling at her core. Azzi let herself fall into the kiss, let herself breathe through it, even while her center pulsed in Paige’s warm palm.

Paige deepened the kiss, tracing Azzi’s tongue with her own before sucking on it as her hand free hand held Azzi’s jaw in place gently. Azzi moaned against her mouth. Every nerve ending still on the edge Paige left her on, causing every inch of her skin to feel alive.

Their lips stayed tangled for a few minutes that made Azzi feel like she was suspended in time and just when Azzi’s head started to clear, Paige’s fingers moved back to her clit. Starting those same circles with the pads of her fingers.

The contact was barely there to start but somehow it felt more intense than before.

Azzi's breath got stuck in her throat at the reintroduction to the sensation and her entire body reacted like Paige flipped a switch.

“Paige,” she whimpered out as her voice cracked slightly.

“Mhm?”

Azzi tried to swallow a moan by biting her lip as her fingers clutched the sheets. “You’re…so fucking mean.”

Paige chuckled, moving her mouth to brush against Azzi’s ear. “I’m mean?”

Azzi nodded, trying and failing to keep her hips from moving. “Y-Yeah…”

“Mmhmm,” Paige hummed again, her lips grazing the hinge of Azzi’s jaw. “Just from makin you feel good?”

Azzi whimpered at the cockiness she heard in Paige’s voice. Her breath was unsteady, every part of her fighting to stay composed. “You’re not even fucking me—”

“I am fucking you,” Paige whispered, her thumb now circling Azzi as the rest of her fingers dipped down to tease her entrance before moving back up. Azzi moaned at this, trying to press her thighs together subtly.

Paige soothed her by kissing her temple. “You’re doing so good.”

Azzi’s hand reached for Paige’s forearm, squeezing it like she needed it to ground her. Her voice came out desperate as she said, “You’re gonna make me cum before I feel you.”

Paige smiled. “I know. But I got you.”

She kept her same rhythm against Azzi, sometimes with just one finger in small circles, other times she used two, dragging the pads of her fingers loosely, changing the pressure. Each variation pulled something different from Azzi: little gasps, broken breaths, soft moans that Paige accentuated by sucking on her neck gently.

It didn’t take long for Azzi to feel the heat pooling again, this time obviously stronger, her nerves already frayed from the first time. The closer Paige got her to the edge, the more erratic Azzi became, words slipping from her mouth before she could catch them.

“Fuck daddy I—” she whimpered, her voice cracking before she could finish. Her head tipped back against Paige’s chest as she reached behind her to grab at Paige’s head.

“I—” she tried again, the words trailing off again before she finally got them out. “I’m so close—”

Before she could tell her not to stop, Paige’s fingers left her clit again. Her palm cupping Azzi’s center that she felt pulsing beneath her hand.

When this happened Azzi let out a frustrated, helpless sound. Something between a gasp and a whine. Her fingers pulling at Paige’s forearm trying to guide her back, but Paige just kissed the side of her neck gently, her own breathing completely steady.

“Not yet,” Paige whispered, almost apologetically.

Azzi exhaled unevenly before Paige caught her lips in a kiss that deepened far too quickly. Despite the unbearable heat building inside Azzi’s Paige kissed her like they had all the time in the world. She mapped Azzi’s mouth with hers, her tongue sliding every slowly as she controlled the pace of the kiss. She used just enough pressure to keep Azzi on edge without giving her relief.

When Paige pulled back, it was only to drop kisses to Azzi’s jawline, then lower, finding a spot just under her ear that made Azzi squirm. She palmed Azzi’s center with a little more pressure to reward her but she felt the subtleness of Azzi’s thighs pressing together, trying to create any form of friction. Paige knew it was probably involuntary, she could feel the tension radiating off of her body, feel the effort Azzi was making to not fall apart without what seemed to be Paige’s permission

“Stop,” Paige stated simply.

Azzi’s breath hitched. “I—” she started, her voice embarrassingly stuck. “I can’t control it.”

Paige pulled away everything for a second, just long enough for Azzi to feel the complete loss of sensation. Before she lifted her head to brush her nose against Azzi’s cheek. “Yes, you can.”

Azzi whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to control the tremble in her body.

Paige’s lips brushed against her ear, “Promise I got you. Just wait a little longer for me gorgeous.” Azzi took a long shaky breath and nodded before Paige reconnected their lips. After what felt like forever tangled in slow, aching kisses, Paige’s fingers returned to their familiar place on Azzi’s clit. Causing Azzi to exhale a sound that was closer to a moan than a breath.

She whispered Paige’s name and her voice cracking around it. The blonde’s name left her lips again and again, tangled with fragmented words and half-formed pleas that made Paige smile against her neck.

“Mhmm?” Paige whispered, pretending to play innocent as she kept Azzi trapped in that unbearable space just shy of her release. Paige shifted her touch subtly, the circles beginning to take on more shape.

At first, Azzi didn’t catch it, too caught in the haze of feeling Paige touch her. But after Paige whispered, “Focus for me,” she realized Paige was spelling something.

G-O-O-D G-I-R-L

Azzi’s body jerked at the subtle praise as she bit down on her lip hard enough to sting, swallowing the sound that clawed its way up her throat.

Paige chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “You like that?” she whispered as her fingers continued spelling it out in firm lazy strokes.

Azzi nodded, unable to speak.

It only took a few more minutes—just a few slow, devastating minutes of Paige circling her clit before Azzi completely came undone. Paige was still calm behind her like this wasn’t affecting her in the slightest. Like Azzi falling apart in her arms didn’t have her boxers soaked.

Azzi’s head lolled back against Paige’s chest, her dazed eyes blinking slowly as her parted lips released soft sounds without her permission. The pressure in her body was unbearable in that beautiful, addictive way that blurred the lines in her brain between someone she wanted and now needed. She felt hot all everywhere, her nerves were stretched thin, her muscles twitching with every circle Paige made with her fingers.

Her body started to tighten again “Please don’t stop,” Azzi said, barely loud enough for Paige to hear. Her tone was gentler this time. It wasn’t tinged with frustration or impatience, just quiet begging like she couldn’t take another second.

Paige pressed a kiss to her shoulder before moving down and easily curling two of her fingers into Azzi, causing her to shatter. Her legs tightened and trembled, a visible shudder running through her body as her breath caught then spilled out in uneven waves as she moaned out Paige’s name loudly. Words tumbling from her lips again and again. Her entire body felt like it was shaking as pleasure overtook her.

Azzi went limp against Paige’s chest, a mess of heavy breathing and boneless limbs, and Paige kissed the back of her shoulder as she kept moving her fingers inside of Azzi’s entrance, her fingers hitting that spongy spot every time she slid them in.

Azzi’s head tipped back against Paige’s shoulder when she added another finger, trying to form words and trying to catch her breath from what just happened. “Shit P-Paige, I—” Whatever she was trying to say got swallowed by the feeling of Paige speeding her hand up, pushing into Azzi at a faster pace as the bottom of her palm smacked against Azzi’s clit.

The contact had Azzi’s body jolting each time, her hips moving to meet the slaps, completely drawn to the pressure as she fucked herself on Paige’s fingers as her eyes fluttered, glassy and dazed.

The way Paige fucked her so confidently, so naturally, it was like Azzi’s body recognized her before her mind could even process what was happening. Azzi moaned as her fingers curled around Paige’s forearm again to hold onto something.

“Too much?” Paige whispered against her neck, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi tried to answer to say no, but her brain was fogged over and she suddenly didn’t know how to use her words. Her body felt hypersensitive, and each touch from Paige was magnified tenfold after how long the blonde dragged out the first orgasm.

Paige smiled and sped up, her fingers disappearing into Azzi at a faster pace, smacking the back of her palm against Azzi’s sensitive clit each time she pushed into her.

Her breath was warm against Azzi’s ear as she started whispering shit she would never be caught dead saying outside of this room.

“You hear that shit?” she whispered, referring to the sound of Azzi’s wetness echoing around the room. “You so easy for me.”

Azzi let out a shaky sound, her hand gripping Paige’s forearm again. She was barely able to speak, but still trying. “Y-You’re so,” she started, but it came out cracked and she couldn’t finish initially. “You’re so fucking good.”

Paige smiled at the admission. “I’m fucking you good Azzi?”

Azzi arched into Paige as she nodded, her body acting on its own every time Paige’s fingers curled. She was already unraveling again but trying to ground herself to extend the pleasure. “Fucking me so good I can’t even think straight daddy,” she admitted with a strained voice.

“I can tell it's mine already,” Paige whispered as she nipped at Azzi’s neck before soothing the skin with her tongue.

Azzi wanted to deny it, put Paige in her place a little but the way her chest opened at the words had her falling deeper and spilling out more onto Paige’s hand. She couldn’t do anything but let herself start to unravel again.

Paige slowed down and used her thumb to circle Azzi’s clit as she pushed deeper into her at a slower pace, drawing out the feeling each time she pulled her fingers out.

Azzi’s body tightened again as her hips twitched without any control. She let out a panicked sound as her hand flew to Paige’s wrist attempting to stop her. “W-Wait, wait I—” Azzi gasped, trying to shift away from Paige’s hand. “Paigie, I…I think I have to pee.”

Paige caught her wrist easily with her other hand that was under Azzi pulling it away. “No you don’t,” she whispered over the shell of Azzi’s ear before she tugged on it with her teeth. “Just relax for me. You trust me right?”

Azzi nodded her head faintly, as she tried to relax, but she was too far gone. She was too sensitive, too wound up from the hours Paige spent edging her without giving her a full release until a little bit ago. Her head was still spinning from the first orgasm, her legs started trembling again, and her mouth parted around broken breaths.

Before she could process what was happening, Paige pressed her thumb down in a firm, perfect circle just as she curled into the spongy part inside of her core..

White heat shot through Azzi’s entire body, wave after wave that felt like it would never stop, crashing over her so hard it stole her breath and made her arch into Paige’s chest. Her hands gripped blindly at the sheets, Paige’s thigh, Paige’s hair, anything she could find, as an involuntary scream tore from her throat, louder than anything she'd meant to make tonight.

She barely registered the warm, soaked mess that came from between her legs, or the aftershocks that rolled through her like she was vibrating from the inside out as Paige kissed along her neck and shoulder. She was whispering things Azzi couldn’t fully hear, her voice not fully registering against the ringing in Azzi’s ears.

Paige pulled her fingers out slowly, her palm dripping as she rested her wrist on Azzi’s hip, her wet fingers hanging idly in the air as Azzi fought to catch her breath, as aftershocks spread through her body in Paige’s arms.

They laid there for a few minutes as Azzi came back to earth, to catch her breath while her skin was still humming. When she gathered the strength she reached down and slid off her soaked pajama shorts before she rolled on top of Paige, settling her weight evenly as her hands braced both sides of Paige’s shoulders.

Paige blinked up at her, dazed but still trying to be composed as she processed how good Azzi looked up there. “I’m good…you don’t have to.”

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted, her expression teetering somewhere between confusion and skepticism. “‘You’re good’?” she repeated, her voice a little incredulous even repeating the words. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Paige chuckled under her breath, still trying to play it cool. “I’m just saying you don’t have to…We can just go to bed if you’re—.”

As she started to explain, her voice tapering off when Azzi leaned down and took Paige’s hand. The one that had been lying stiffly beside her because it was still coated in Azzi’s wetness and brought it to her lips.

Paige froze.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, just held Paige’s gaze as she licked at her knuckles, her tongue feeling soft and warm before she let her lips part, taking three of Paige’s fingers into her mouth, her eyes only leaving hers when she closed them and hummed around Paige’s fingers.

Paige swallowed harshly as she watched completely frozen as she looked at Azzi in complete disbelief. Azzi’s lips dragged over each of her fingers, her tongue tracing each finger gently as she tasted herself, and it was like Paige forgot how to think as she watched.

When Azzi was done she placed Paige’s hand down then leaned closer, her lips brushing Paige’s jaw. “I wanna make you feel good,” she whispered, almost purring. “You can let me do that for you, right?”

Paige barely managed a nod as the tiniest most helpless sound escaped her before she swallowed it back. Her blue eyes locked on Azzi like she couldn’t fully believe what was happening.

Azzi smiled at Paige’s dazed nod, already knowing she had her exactly where she wanted her. Suddenly stripped of all that calm composure, completely folding at the slight display of dominance. Azzi slipped off Paige's boxers without much protest before straddling her again.

She pushed up Paige’s tank top, revealing the toned lines of her abs and let her fingertips ghost over the skin first, feeling the way Paige’s stomach twitched at the contact, before she leaned down and kissed just above her belly button.

She moved her lips slowly like she had all night. She kissed and licked at the skin of Paige’s stomach, soothing it with her tongue every now and then when she bit a little harshly.

When she glanced up to watch Paige struggle to hold it together Paige’s head fell back almost instantly at the eye contact from that angle.

Azzi somehow knew and felt that if she told Paige to move, to shift, to breathe deeper or softer or stop thinking altogether, she would do it with no questions asked. Something about that made Azzi want her more. Something about having somebody like Paige submissive for her went straight to Azzi’s head.

“Move your hands for me,” Azzi whispered softly as her lips were still brushing against Paige’s stomach.

Paige listened, raising her arms above her head and resting them against the pillow without a single question.Her hands twitched above her head when Azzi sucked harshly over one of her abs leaving a bright mark.

Azzi’s mouth curved into a grin when she felt Paige’s breath catch. “Mm,” she hummed before softly adding, “Good girl.”

Paige opened her eyes at this. “Watch your mouth.”

Azzi mumbled, “Yeah, okay,” clearly not sorry, and clearly not planning to stop. With that same confidence, she slid her hand between Paige’s legs and Paige’s body welcomed the touch like she had been waiting for it.

Azzi slowly eased two fingers into Paige until her palm rested flat against her center. She let Paige adjust to the feeling, letting her hand just linger there before starting slow strokes of her fingers.

She kept her eyes on Paige’s face, watching every small reaction: the twitch in her jaw, the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed, the way her hands that were still obediently tucked above her head grabbed at the pillars of the headboard.

“Still good?” Azzi whispered, her fingers never stopping their rhythm.

Paige blinked her eyes open slowly, jaw tightening for a second before she gave the faintest nod and closed her eyes again. “Y-Yeah…good,” she said, even though her voice was more breath than sound.

Azzi grinned again and leaned down to kiss just below her ribs, her fingers pushing just a little more firmly into Paige. “Good.” She shifted her weight, moving up until she was fully hovering above Paige looking down at the blonde saying, “When’s the last time somebody made you feel good?”

Paige’s eyes fluttered open slowly and when they did they were dazed. Her eyebrows furrowed as if she genuinely had to think. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

Azzi cocked her head to the side slightly, as she increased the pace of her fingers between Paige’s legs. “You don’t know?”

Paige shook her head, struggling to keep her voice steady with the way Azzi’s fingers were curling into her. “ No I—just don’t usually. Hasn’t been good, so I don’t usually—”

She didn’t get to finish because Azzi’s eased in another finger pressing, right into that soft ache she was building in Paige’s stomach, causing her to suck in a sharp breath.

“Am I good?”

Paige choked on a short, surprised laugh, her head tipping back into the pillow.

Azzi waited for an answer.

Paige nodded, trying to catch her breath.

“Use your words,” Azzi whispered, ghosting her lips along Paige’s jaw.

Paige’s eyes squeezed shut as she exhaled, already starting to unravel. “Shit…yeah. Yeah you’re good.”

Azzi leaned down, capturing Paige’s lips in a messy kiss. The shift in her weight caused her to press into Paige more and she against her mouth with a broken sound that Azzi swallowed as she deepened the kiss.

When Azzi pulled away, it wasn’t for long as she started trailing kisses down the slope of Paige’s jaw to her neck, her lips brushing messily over the sensitive skin, licking and tasting the salt of her flushed skin from sweating slightly in her sleep. Paige’s head rolled to the side against the pillow.

“God, Azzi…please,” she moaned, not even sure what she was begging for. Her voice had dropped to something a little rougher showing just how far gone she was.

Azzi smiled against her neck, letting her tongue glide and suck over her pulse.

“I never felt…fuck, I’ve never—” Paige cut herself off with a sharp inhale when Azzi shifted her leg pressing her fingers deeper into her cervix.

Azzi pulled back to look at her. “You like this?” she asked, just to hear how Paige would respond.

Paige gave a short, breathless laugh that cracked halfway through. “Yeah shit. Love it. You don’t even know—” Another gasp. “Shit I don’t even know what I’m tryna say.”

Azzi tilted her head, watching her unravel with a soft hum. “If I knew I just needed to fuck you to get you talking,” she said, her voice a little arrogant, “I would’ve had you in my bed a lot sooner.”

Paige let out a low laugh at Azzi’s comment, before it was replaced with a moan when Azzi pressed against her stomach. “I’m close.”

Azzi just smiled softly, pressing into the same spot on her stomach as her thumb moved in slow circles and her fingers curled perfectly. The sensation of all three movements caused Paige’s fingers to twitch near her head as she bit her bottom lip. It only took a few more strokes before Paige was gone, her body tensing under Azzi as she came undone with a harsh exhale, her back arching off the bed. Her eyes rolled back and her lips parted as another quiet “fuck” slipped out along with a few other words that Azzi couldn’t make out as she helped her ride out her orgasm.

When it seemed like Paige was done Azzi pulled her fingers out slowly and eased next to her. After a few seconds, Paige let out a chuckle.

Azzi, now nestled in her side, glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Paige turned her head to look at her, mumbling through the remnants of a grin, “You just bitched me.”

Azzi laughed. “That really wasn’t even that bad.”

Paige shook her head, fluttering her eyes closed again. “Mmm. That’s crazy.”

Silence lingered for a moment as the air between them started to cool down despite their warm skin.

Paige broke the silence with a quiet sigh. “You ruined my sheets.”

Azzi didn’t open her eyes to respond. “We’re not talking about that.”

They just shifted to the other side of the bed that was dry, Azzi maneuvering herself so she was laying halfway on top of Paige, her arm draped loosely over Paige’s stomach and one leg hooked around her thigh.

“I’m just throwing it out there,” Azzi added, “You can’t blame me for what happened. You told me to relax.”

Paige grinned. “Didn’t blame you.”

Azzi propped herself up on one elbow, brushing a few strands of hair off Paige’s forehead. “You kinda did. ‘You ruined my sheets,’” she mimicked. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Mm. Make sure you color match ‘em.”

“Obviously.” Azzi grinned and rested her head against Paige’s shoulder again. “You know, for someone who fights for a living, you’re kind of easy to fold.”

That got a small snort out of Paige.

Azzi smiled at the sound, quiet for a second before continuing to talk, “You tired?”

Paige nodded, barely opening her eyes. “Exhausted.”

“Me too. But I still have, like, five more things to say.”

Paige cracked one eye open as she looked down at Azzi. “Say ‘em.”

Azzi sighed into Paige’s neck, “Nah…I’ll save some for the morning.”

Paige didn’t answer this time, just decided to run her fingers along Azzi’s spine in slow lines to settle her down. Sure enough Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed a few seconds later, and the room settled into a peaceful quiet, their breaths falling in sync as the birds outside started chirping.

…

A few hours later Azzi’s body naturally started to stir despite only getting a few hours of sleep. She felt the warmness of someone else’s skin and the tangle of their limbs before her eyes even opened. Bright light filtered through the curtains and it took her a few seconds to adjust. She blinked a few times and eventually her vision cleared enough for her to realize she was still draped across Paige, her cheek pressed against her chest.

Paige was already awake with her eyes fixed on the ceiling and when Azzi lifted her head slightly, her weight shifted enough for Paige to notice. Without looking down, Paige said, “Morning.”

Azzi smiled, her voice slightly raspy. “Good morning.”

Paige didn’t move to look at Azzi and her eyebrows were pinched slightly, something far-off in her expression.

Azzi reached up, gently brushing her thumb between Paige’s eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. “What are you thinking about?”

“My fight.”

Azzi’s fingers paused over her skin. “You think about that every morning?”

Paige’s eyes stayed on the ceiling. “The moment I open my eyes honestly.”

Azzi let her hand move to rest lightly on Paige’s cheek, her thumb brushing against the soft skin. She pressed a kiss to Paige’s jaw, whispering, “You’re allowed to have mornings without it, you know.”

Paige didn’t offer a response right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling like she was still thinking about something. Eventually, she said, “I haven’t been able to watch it yet.”

Azzi stayed quiet, letting the words settle as her hand moved slowly, her fingers tracing the line of Paige’s jaw, then brushing lightly over her lower face; her chin, the curve of her mouth, her cheekbone. “Why not?”

Paige let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s bad,” she said, dryly. “Feel like pouring bleach in my eye and never stepping foot in the cage again every time I try,” she offered a little dramatically.

Azzi hummed, her thumb still brushing along the edge of Paige’s mouth. “Well…that wouldn’t be very good,” she said, adding a little humor to the situation.

That got a real laugh out of Paige.

Azzi smiled at the sound. “We can watch when we get back to LA,” she offered. “Tonight after I’m done with practice if you want.” There was a pause before she added, “I’ll make sure you don’t pour bleach in those pretty eyes…promise.”

Paige’s lip twitched at the joke. It wasn’t fully a smile, but it hovered to something close. “We don’t gotta do that.”

“We gotta do something,” Azzi said, her tone changing just enough to make Paige glance at her. “Most people wake up a little more gleeful after sex, and I woke up to Oscar the Grouch.”

That earned an eye roll from Paige, but a smile finally broke through as she mumbled, “Whatever bro.”

They laid there in silence for a while just letting the quiet morning wrap around them. Paige had one arm resting behind her head, while Azzi still laid halfway on top of her, tracing shapes on Paige’s forearm.

“Are you coming to my game?” Azzi eventually asked.

Paige tilted her head to glance down at her. “You want me to?”

Azzi shifted enough to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I do…I mean only if you want to though.”

“I was already coming,” Paige said casually. “Just wanted to hear you say you wanted me there.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”

“You told me you liked that.”

Azzi sat up and swung one of her legs over to straddle Paige’s waist, her hands finding both of Paige’s wrists and pinning them to the bed. “You got a smart mouth this morning.”

“I had a smart mouth last night too,” Paige replied, smirking a little, “somebody was a lil too busy squirting all over my sheets to notice though.”

Azzi gasped, pretending to be offended and went to smack her, but Paige caught her hand easily and rolled them over making Azzi end up beneath her. Azzi let out a surprised squeal as Paige hovered on top of her, pinning both of her wrists above her head with one hand.

“That’s rude,” Azzi mumbled, squirming a little trying to get out. “That’s twice now you’ve manhandled me.”

“You keeping count?,” Paige asked, grinning at her.

Azzi glared, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re so lucky I kinda like you.”

Paige leaned down a little. “Since we’re admitting things. Don’t know if you knew,” she added casually, “but you’re possessive.”

Azzi blinked in confusion because she’s definitely not, she’d never been jealous in her life.“No, I’m not.”

Paige tilted her head to show two dark marks, one under her jaw and the other on the side of neck, then used her free hand to pull her shirt up revealing a constellation of faint bruises and bite marks on her stomach.

“…Okay. Maybe I’m enthusiastic.”

“Enthusiastic,” Paige repeated. “Sure, let's call it that.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints when I was doing it.”

“I’m not complaining,” Paige said, brushing her nose along Azzi’s jaw. “Just saying next time you wanna mark your territory, maybe let me know so I can stretch my neck first.”

Azzi laughed and let her head fall back into the pillow. “Oh my God, you’re annoying.”

Paige just laughed before flipping them again, not wanting to lay her weight on Azzi. Neither of them wanted to start the day. The bed was warm but Azzi’s phone starting to buzz reminded them that they had to go back to LA.

Azzi was the first to groan and peel herself away from the bed, mumbling something about needing extra time untangle her hair. Paige just hummed as she watched Azzi walk out of the room before letting her eyes flutter shut for a few more minutes before dragging herself to the bathroom.

When Azzi came back, freshly showered and a little more put together, she found Paige in front of the mirror, a toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she looked down at her phone. Her wet hair was down and she had on a sports bra and sweatpants.

Azzi walked over and wrapped her arms around Paige from behind, resting her cheek between her shoulder blades. Azzi closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy the moment before saying, “You gonna be nice to me when we get back?”

Paige leaned forward and spit into the sink before whipping her mouth with a towel. When she was done she turned around, wrapping her arms around Azzi’s waist. When she spoke her voice was low in the way that made Azzi's stomach flutter. “You think I brought you to my family's cabin, walked with you on the beach for hours and carried you back to the car just to turn around and not be nice to you?”

Azzi blinked and her forehead creased as she thought through the logistics. Realizing just how long they'd walked yesterday, and how far back Paige had actually carried her, and how unbothered she’d been about doing it. “Good point.”

Paige smiled at her a little before smacking her ass and kissing her forehead saying, “Alright let’s get outta here.”

[traflawgar]

talking in your sleep.

when you accidentally confess while sleep-talking.

includes: law, zoro

TAGS: FLUFF, pre-relationship, gn.reader.

NOTES: this is my first time trying to write something for one piece, be nice to me.

law

You were always a sleep talker. Ever since you were a child, there wasn't one night when you didn't spout nonsense. From intelligible words to downright terrifying things—Bepo still checked for mysterious shadows after the night you rose from the bed and mumbled about something following him—the crew had gotten used to it.

It was that why, after falling asleep on a book during a long night researching with Law, he didn't even flinch when you started mumbling. Not until you said, or he thought you said, his name. It could've been nothing more than random sounds strung together by your sleeping brain, but he found himself putting down the book and straining his ears anyway.

The silence stretched. You nuzzled into the book you had been reading. A soft sigh left your lips. Law leaned in closer.

"...ove you, Law... I love you."

Time slowed. His heart stopped, then resumed its beating full force. A lazy smile appeared on his face. He allowed himself to sink into the pure, deep love he felt for you.

"I won't say it back," he started, hand reaching to stroke your cheek. "Not until you're awake. Just you wait."

zoro

Zoro had long ceased to make up excuses to join you when it was your turn to keep watch. A simple "hey" replaced the clumsy "I couldn't sleep" and "You'll probably fall asleep anyways" he used to spout. A mutual understanding that no lies needed to cover up the truth: he liked to spend time with you. Quiet time with you, away from the loud and exuberant nature of the crew.

Eventually, you had started to join him on his rounds as well. Sitting peacefully side by side, sharing a bottle of sake from time to time. Nodding off on his shoulder when your eyelids became too heavy.

Zoro had taken to sitting close enough to you so that, when you eventually fell asleep, he could reposition your head on his solid shoulder and avoid any future neck pain. A gesture he struggled to convince himself was purely out of camaraderie. No ulterior motives, no hidden reasons. He'd do it for anyone on the crew, right?

It took hearing your asleep confession for him to accept that maybe, perhaps, it was possible he did feel something more for you. The moment he heard the soft "Zoro, I love you" come out of your mouth, he froze with the bottle of sake halfway to his lips. He sat like that, so still he could've been a statue, until he felt you cuddle closer to him.

Posture relaxing, he leaned his head into yours and went on keeping watch. Perhaps tomorrow would be more interesting than he had expected.

TRAFLAWGAR 2024

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[sqgeism]

haii!! Can I ask the reaction of amphoreus men to the reader don’t feel like they deserve them and feeling guilty about it? 🙏

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 if i'm turning in your stomach | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; am i making you feel sick ? he's so.. happy with you, and you don't seem to understand. they're in the glory and light as a chrysos heir, what could have possibly be seen in you for them to ever want to share that light?

love mail — haiii anonnie ! thank you for requesting :D in this fic, i mention the very likely theory of phainon being kevin from hi3 ! it isn't a major plot point but it is mentioned so if ure confused dont worry so am i ヽ(´Ａ`)ﾉ love u guys mwah ! 2/5.

now.. anaxa isn't a fan of gossip, accepting words at face value is foolish. especially since he is a man from a field of alchemy, trying and testing until he sees results. in this case, the truth.

but when a mutual companion, that babbling blue haired student of his, tells him that you've been feeling rather.. sad recently, he was determined to find out why.

in your defense, you were never meant to have him figure out, but this concoction you were working on was really starting to get on your nerves. you figured anaxa was still at the academy, so you were free to yell at the vial of glowing liquid like you could peer pressure it into getting it to cooperate. "stupid, stupid." you grumbled, your fists curling into a ball on the table. "i hate this, why can't i just... be like anaxa? he must feel ashamed with me. i can't do something as simple as a healing potion, after all."

you know these words aren't true, but you can't completely erase the fact you still feel them. your boyfriend was praised for his expertise in his field, couldn't you at least have learned something?—

it was then that you felt someone press up against your back, head leaning over your shoulder as anaxa sighs. his hands wrap around your waist, looking at your face like you're the moon. "your ingredients are perfect, dove. down to the measurements, but i'm sure your error comes from your order of mixing. listen to me, start with.."

you listen to his guide, trying to perfectly replicate the sequence as he speaks, but it's distracting. he hasn't.. stopped looking away from you while you work. not to mention, his hands trace the curves of your waist, as if keeping your body to memory. his sultry voice in your ear is NOT helping either.

"i heard you, you know." he mumbles, shifting his head to press kisses to your shoulder blades, somewhat relishing the way you shiver.

"do you really think i'd ever focus my time on someone who self proclaims their inadequacy?" you don't answer. "your intelligence is unmatched, dove. i couldn't think of anyone with a brain like yours, while also having a heart kind enough to open a man like me."

his advances move up to your neck, and at this point, the potion is long forgotten. your hands are too shaky to focus anyway. "please.. never think you're not good enough for me. i couldn't handle you leaving me for false truths."

your husband is a literal king, warrior, and an unmovable force.. you wonder why he settled down with an ordinary mortal. you're not quite in the spotlight, and instead, a humble historian. which means you're well versed in mydei's tales, especially ones pertaining to his past. according to rumor; mydei is fated to fall for someone for all of eternity, they were originally a warrior sworn to him, but had died tragically for mydei in the middle of a battle, in fear that the enemy had possibly been able to reach his weakest spot. after a desperate plea from the gods, they had been kind enough to have his lovers soul reborn every time they've come face to face with death. you.. were apparently the first one he's met ever since 'your death'.

and while you're.. comforted by that idea, the fact that you're fated to find mydei in every life you'll live, you also feel.. unsure. had the chrysos heir fallen for you, or for someone you used to be. and you could never really live up to be who you were.

that person was a warrior, one mydei cherished like his other half, and the myths of the two of them are romantic. how he spent hundreds of years mourning them, how they haunted his narrative. could he ever truly love who you are now?

"sweetheart?"

mydei's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you come back to reality—surrounded by your ancient maps and history. you're in your study, staring down at one of the many books written on the chrysos heirs. "are you staring at that old thing again? i told you, i don't like the way they drew me in that book." his laugh makes you feel guilty, you aren't even sure why. something about his love feels undeserving.

when you don't reply, he realizes you're not quite on a page about him.. but about you. your past life.

mydei knows how you feel about it, you've talked about it under the moon with him in hopes that its light will keep your secret safe. but he knows reassurance won't fix your insecurity easily, he needs time, and he'll give you all of it. he's waited to find you for all these years, what kind of man would he be to make you think you're anything less than precious?

carefully turning your body to him, his hand trailing up your cheek as he feels his heart ache. "sweetheart, my darling.." before he can even finish, you lean your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat in silence. "mydei, do you promise.. that this heart is mine? you.. you aren't after someone who i once was, and rather who i am now?"

he knows he'll have time to give you proper reassurance, but he knows you just need a few words now. "i promise, with all i am, that i have fallen in love with you all over again. and that i am yours, body and soul."

with all the mystery that surrounds your boyfriends identity, you can't help but think about it as well. do you.. really know him? does he not trust you to know him? you aren't sure. maybe you aren't as special as you thought you had been, that phainon's sweet words of how much he loves you are.. false prayers.

but you have no reason to doubt him, he's never stayed out too late or hung around people that made you question his motives, he's a good man. and you're starting to think that you don't deserve him for doubting that.

the idea clouds your mind the whole day, and for aeon's sake.. you and him are having a date night at his place. he notices it quickly, how your mind just can't seem to focus. how you move away from his touches and hesitate with every kiss, was there something troubling you? was he troubling you? that's when he's had enough of the lack of communication, he turns off the tv, pulls the blankets down, and gives you a confused but also rather upset look. "honey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?

he holds his hand out to you, but you move away, the cold shoulder has never been so sweet. "phai.." you hesitate to finish your sentence, but phainon waits.

he's been known for his patience, he always has been. he was a composed man, a gentleman, he could surely hold himself togethe—

"am.. am i really anything special to you?"

he feels his heart sink to his stomach.

there's an sting that he's never quite felt before, overwhelming his body greatly. he's sure he can hear his heartbeat, or perhaps lack thereof, it's as if his world has stopped at those words.

you've begun to tear up now. "i don't know i just.. the people have been telling me things— and i'm realizing now that i don't.. i don't really know anything about you and.. i.. i'd want to get to know you better, but i understand if you don't want to, and don't trust me but—"

seeing you cry makes him remember something distant, a life he once lived in a different world. making someone he also loved so dearly cry because of what he's done.

phainon crumbles, moving closer to you to wipe your tears. you two are face to face now, his lips only a breath away as he's reminded why he loves you so much.

you're you, so human, so selfless. how could he be blind to your struggle, when he claims to watch you so carefully? "oh, angel. i'm so.. so sorry. there are things i cannot tell you yet, but i can tell you that i could never let my heart be taken by anyone else."

feather light kisses press against your eyelids, and you shudder at the contact. "sweet, sweet angel. please don't cry. i promise i'll make it up to you one day."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

MASTERLIST stray kids

──────────────────────

ot8

﴾ out of the blue, part two (one-shot, idol au, smut)

summary: after some much needed alone time with your boyfriend on his birthday, you somehow forgot about his friends coming over…

──────────────────────

bangchan

﴾ michelin star (one-shot, idol au, smut)

summary: he’s been ignoring you, only leaving you to wonder what exactly you have done to make him so quiet and one night you just have enough of it as much as he had enough of trying to keep himself away from you

﴾ wild side (one-shot, mafia au, smut)

summary: one night, while you were making your way home after work, you came across something you shouldn’t have seen and even if you run away, there was no way for you to escape the man with the scar across his face

﴾ smooth operator (one-shot, office au, smut)

summary: you always get what you want, with a single look, a wave of your hand, dripping with confidence that made him tremble the first time you two met, he watched you quietly from afar, admiring the perfection that you are, but it soon turned into obsession and oh, how he hated how much you got into his head…

──────────────────────

lee know

﴾ haunt me (one-shot, horror au, smut)

summary: on Halloween night, you and your friends gather for a classic spirit summoning, eager to make the most of this tradition, unaware that you will be the one to face the consequences…

──────────────────────

changbin

﴾ lunaris (one-shot, supernatural au, smut)

summary: you are not alone — from the moment you decided to live in the small house at the edge of a lake, a dark, looming phantom, seemed to follow you wherever you go and you cannot do anything other than to wait and see, what it wants from you…

──────────────────────

hyunjin

﴾ i drink your blood and i eat your skin (series, vampire au)

summary: all your life, you have been searching, trying to understand your purpose, to come across a reason to stay in this world — a savior, from all of your pain and fear, was death itself. he came to you so suddenly, crawling his way into your broken heart that had never felt so full until then, biting at your flesh, whispering so sweetly, pleasing to your ears. but even being kissed by death wasn’t enough to make you unsee the thing that’s been truly haunting you…

──────────────────────

han

﴾ she’s my collar (one-shot, idol au, smut)

summary: while playing a game of spin the bottle, you learn some very interesting things about your friends that night, but probably the most memorable one of them is when the cute boy next to you confesses his dirtiest dream

﴾ let me blow your mind (one-shot, high school au, smut)

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school’s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

──────────────────────

felix

﴾ out of the blue, part one (one-shot, idol au, smut)

summary: it is you boyfriend’s birthday and you decided to let him unwrap his gift a little sooner…

﴾ rush (one-shot, university au, smut)

summary: he yearns for you, for a simple glance or a whiff of your addictive smell, he dreams of you, because in his mind that is the only way he thought he could have you, you were just a fantasy, but to you he was just someone who needed to be shown the powerful world of pleasure

──────────────────────

seungmin

﴾ you shook me (one-shot, university au, smut)

summary: you were captivating, you were in his mind and his soul, taking a bite of it each time you would glance his way, you shouldn’t excite him, you shouldn’t enjoy getting under his skin, it was so wrong…so wrong that it felt good

﴾ insane in the brain (one-shot, ghostface au, smut)

summary: a masked killer returns to the town, leaving you terrified, paranoia seems to follow you everywhere you go, along with two of your classmates, who seem to grow very fond of you…

──────────────────────

i.n

﴾ insane in the brain (one-shot, ghostface au, smut)

summary: a masked killer returns to the town, leaving you terrified, paranoia seems to follow you everywhere you go, along with two of your classmates, who seem to grow very fond of you…

──────────────────────

[teaboot]

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

My earliest memory of what I would call self-awareness occurred spontaneously in the middle of my fourth birthday party, where I suddenly became alert to my existence as a separate entity surrounded by other conscious beings.

This presented to me as not dissimilar to simply being brushed along the flow of a river- experiencing life as a serious of flashbang moments and instants and sensations, like meditating to music until the individual notes break into sounds that follow no rhythm and are only noise- no past or future, only now- and then suddenly finding yourself holding a paddle in the belly of a boat with no idea what to do next.

I remember running to the body that felt safest, who I did not recognize as anything else, and asking it who all the strangers around us were. The person that I learned was my mother told me they were my aunties and uncles, and I was being silly because I KNEW them, and why was I so shy all of a sudden?

Learning to articulate myself after that instant, I remember, was immensely frustrating. Learning your first language, as I remember it, is wuite a bit like how Ive been told recovering from brain damage feels like.

YOU know what you mean. YOU know what you're saying. But there are holes where you reach for something you know MUST be there and find nothing, and must find a way to communicate using only what you have at hand. Except there are always faces looking at you, talking down to you, asking you to do tricks for them to prove you really are a real human person.

I loved art, and I'm very good at it, but GETTING good at it was the worst. I'm told I started with scribbles at six months or so, before I could walk, and at three and four I remember being immensely frustrated that I could see in my head exactly what I wanted to produce, and I didn't know how to PRODUCE it.

And simple shit, like drawing shapes and circles, developing fine motor skills. You FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ASSIGNMENT, but your hands are soft and wobbly and don't cooperate. Getting your mouth and body to obey your directions is hellish, especially when all the appliances and furniture and installations around you are built for someone easily triple your size.

Chairs are hard to sit in when you're small and cant touch the ground. Your legs dangle and you cant scoot closer to the table, and the backrest is so far back you cant use it for support, and the table comes up past your chest so your chin is amost in your plate and your dumb clumsy hands cant hold a big spoon or fork in a way that feels natural or elegant so you end up smearing shit EVERYWHERE and getting yapped at for having your elbows on the counter.

Reading people was interesting. Most people are condescending and plastic when you're small, and you can tell when they're being saccharine and fake, but you're told the polite thing is to believe what they say and be polite back. I used to try using big sentences on purpose just to het them to leave me alone. "What a pretty girl! Can you say Hello?" was the most common ask I can recall. Id answer with the floweriest thing I could think of, usually, "I'm very well, thank you for asking, how are you?", because people only ask you interesting questions after you do well enough on their tests to prove you're people.

Being small was very tiring, and very frustrating, and becoming aware of myself in my own head probably made everything a lot worse overall.

No regrets, though. From what I can recall, life is far more enjoyable when you're aware of it occurring. Time can't slow down until you know it's there, I think

Being a baby full of instincts felt like living as a live grenade. Being a child was far harder, but more Full. More Human. A LOT more like adulthood than infancy, and I was very determined to remember that.

If any of that makes sense

[plethorawrites]

Hey! Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x southern!reader? Like the reader is from the southern states of America and just their cultural differences, like his thoughts on southern hospitality and the different slang and stuff? If not that's okay! Hope you have a great day/night!

Of course! I'm really leaning into some stereotypes and really dramatic features, fyi. I'm fully aware of that. (Enjoy reading this while I go bomb my midterm because I didn't study enough!!!) (Send help. I'm begging.)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Everyone, even Jason Todd himself always imagined him ending up with someone a little bit more like himself—mistrusting, sarcastic, morbid. No one had foreseen him ending up with you, of all people, who were not only not hardened by the perpetually disturbing state of Gotham, but actually somehow cheerful? They chalked it up to one simple difference, though—the fact that you were from the south.

Geographically, he knew where your state was, but for whatever reason, the south seemed a lot more like an alternate dimension the more he got to know you.

Your look had, obviously, been the first thing to draw him in, seeing you from across a bar. But it was the accent that had him feeling his mouth go dry, that sweet, long drawl that made your words curve slightly at the end of every sentence. It was like his brain malfunctioned the first time he heard it.

And honestly, sometimes it still did.

Hearing you mumble his name in the morning when your voice was all sleepy, a little rasp mixed with that twang that always drew his attention no matter how much he heard it. But your accent, although stark in comparison to the typical Jersey accent that was widespread throughout Gotham, there were a number of other traits that he also found out of place in the city.

Like your odd hospitality—condolence casserole was not a thing he even thought about, let alone actually made until one of the cops Jim Gordon knew died and you made the window, a woman you've never even met, a casserole. Multiple, actually. Along with cookies.

But then again, you baked frequently.

Like making cornbread. Which, was apparently something people actually made and ate? He had no clue. It was delicious though. Most southern food, he quickly realized, was. He usually ate fast food most nights, too tired to cook for himself and too busy to go to an actual restaurant, but you had cooked so often for yourself, always making enough for an entire family (What was with all the leftovers?!) that he started trying and liking almost everything you made.

He'd eat brisket, ribs, pulled pork sliders, devouring it all. You made an incredibly good steak, too. Better than at any restaurant or catering his dad ever had. Meals were typically paired with a glass of iced tea though. Sweet iced tea, obviously. You consumed an absurd amount of it, for some reason, making it from scratch frequently, along with lemonade. And while he disliked the tea, even after trying it repeatedly to make you happy, he adored the lemonade you made, which was tart and refreshing all at once.

He found out quickly, that you were far too pure for Gotham, opening doors for people instead of letting it shut in their faces, which was typical. Or saying ma'am and sir at the end of nearly every sentence, even with friends occasionally by accident.

He loved your pet names for him, though. Instead of baby, or sweetheart like most people would use, you called him sugar or darlin', sometimes sweet pea. It seemed like it would sound cringey, but with the way it rolled off your tongue because of your accent, it was so smooth, it just fit.

You also, quite frequently and without realizing, used words like y'all, reckon, howdy which he found utterly adorable. No where near as cute as the words he didn't even recognize, though. He thought he lost his mind when you first said the toaster was acting Cattywampus. He still didn't quite understand what that meant, but got the gist.

He'd admit, he got pretty jealous when you first called another man handsome when he was barely in range to hear it. He'd been hurt and pulled you away, asking why. You'd said it was because the man was an idiot and he stared at you like you grew a second head. "It ain't right to be beautiful and smart, so when someone's as dumb as a bag of rocks, you gotta call handsome." You explained and realization dawned on him that you'd been insulting that man directly to his face without him realizing it.

That was rather funny.

As was the number of 'bless your hearts' you would mutter to people with a sweet tone, only for it to be a subtle dig. He had no idea the south was so...well, catty.

Jason also appreciated some of your more obscure talents, like your strange ability to recognize types of snakes, which he discovered when Joker released dozens of them into the city causing mass panic. You were utterly perplexed, especially when he told you they were coral snakes, which had a paralyzing bite. "Are you sure we're seeing the same snakes, sugar? Those are king snakes, they're harmless."

In his and his family's defense, Gotham has a rat problem, not a snake one, typically. Plus they looked almost identical and moved so fast it was hard to tell the difference. Except for you, who'd grown up learning to know what venomous and non venomous snakes looked like to avoid getting bit.

In addition to your weird knowledge about reptiles, you also knew an awful lot about sports, mostly football. It was sometimes difficult to tear you away from the TV and even though he could care less, he'd watch it with you if it gave him the chance to pull you into his lap on the couch.

You were often a walking contradiction in his mind, so polite and kind, a fan of boots and extremely nice leather products that were probably better than his, yet so capable of spending the entire day fishing (not that the Gotham water was safe to fish in, because it really wasn't) or going to the gun range with him. A shotgun really wasn't what he'd had in mind when inviting you along, but since your family would always partake in hunting season, he supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised when you picked it up. And used it like an expert.

He'll admit, that was extremely attractive.

Your duality, your gentle nature, your southern hospitality which he quickly realized was a very real thing, all enticed him to no end. Until he was so utterly smitten he was incorporating your slang into his vocabulary and taking your every suggestion about quality leather goods.

Yeah, it was safe to say you were the last person anyone thought Jason would like, but turned out to be the one he loved.

[moonsaver]

The isekai trope is burning my brain. Pls have this yan!alhaitham with isekai'd reader who actually tells him the deal.

---

What if you got isekai'd into genshin? (specifically sumeru for my taste of scenario)

And alhaitham actually got to know? Maybe you don't even hide it while he's talking to you and writing down whatever you're saying while you're half dazed, sitting up on the stretcher, mentioning an entirely different world. Investigations show no result for it, meaning you really must have come from a different world – which isn't entirely impossible. But it seems yours is a slightly different case.

Regardless, alhaitham still doesn't want trouble. Leaves you be with the matra to discuss and sort out your own situation for the most part.

And then you get assigned to work at the Akademiya.

Its temporary, just until you gain your bearings. And the higher-ups (ahem, Nahida), determine he's appropriate to look after you for a period of time. He's a pretty well-adjusted guy, doesn't bother much, and simple enough to not complicate things (you may protest regarding the kinds of books he reads, but to his standard, it is simple. Just don't bother with that.)

Regardless, he's now in charge of you.

He teaches you the main language Teyvat currently uses, or at least the main language talked in major parts of Sumeru. Stays with you after work hours from time to time to help you learn – but only in exchange for knowledge about your own world. He studies you – or rather your subjects, your culture, your languages. If he's teaching you, you have to appeal something to him, and of equal magnitude aswell. So for the most part, your time is spent trying to piece together how to get you back to your world, or simple cultural and linguistic discussions. Unless that isn't your thing; but you both can find a common ground even then, considering Alhaitham doesn't shy away from different areas of study.

It's only natural your bond progresses. You both go from "somewhere between acquaintances and strangers" to "might occasionally greet while passing by". It's not soon before some of the other higher ups approach you to help get a task done from him, since it always seems like he manages to evade them, going who knows where during his working hours. Maybe it's an important task that can't simply be left on his desk. But you're a bit of a special case - Alhaitham doesn't mind sharing a few details with you; as long as you can appropriately determine what is and isnt worth his time. So you somehow manage to find him and get things done.

Its a bit strange. There's only a few ever constants in his life when it comes to people, and doesn't expect much in return. But having you around is different. Having you around feels.. strangely understanding. Although he doesn't mind the solitude, a part of him has always felt secluded from the masses. And you seem to be stuck in a similar situation. It's only natural you two seem to stick together. It's natural. That's what he tells himself.

And then you start to fizzle out from his grasp.

You make new friends. Newer people who may or may not know about where you really might be from. You learn newer things, far beyond Alhaitham's scope (or rather, just his scope of teaching), you get involved with many, many, people, even get invited to events he doesn't. It hurts a bit when he sits silently at your usual table at the library, cozily tucked away from most prying eyes, sitting across where you should have been, but aren't. but he won't admit it. You did mention you're busy and might not be able to come. But something inside him twists the slightest bit.

And he will admit it– only to himself. He has no grasp on his judgement nor principle when he decides to destroy all your documents, leaving you to hopelessly and despairingly run around to somehow, someway, recover them, trying to revive all the information you earnestly gathered.

He begrudgingly gets up to attend the door in the middle of the night, almost regretting not having worn his headphones, when he stops thinking for a moment. Its you. Of course it is. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch up, but he resists. He invites your shaking, teary form inside with silence and serves you some tea, before sitting down in front of you. It's almost funny how familiar the scene is – except this time you're alone much later at night with him, and this time you're so distressed you can barely get the words out before you break down.

And he takes care of you, silently. His large, warm hand soothingly rubs your back as he gives you space to cry and blubber out all your stresses, humming to let you know he's listening, tapping the saucer of the tea cup when you're sobbing a bit too heavy and need a break. It's enough to make you realize just who you really need to stick by. None of your friends would really care for you, would they? They're simply fascinated by the strange things you say. Alhaitham and you have a deeper connection, don't you think? Maybe if you're a bit of a romantic thinker yourself, he can twist his words just right enough to even imply you both must have been meant by fate to meet.

In the end, it all settles when you decide to sleep over, cancel your plans for the next day as you get ready to sort out your information with Alhaitham all over again. And this time, he can study you closely.

-

[multifandomlover01]

His Person

Spencer Reid (S1, early stages of relationship) x chubby!fem!reader (I’m basing this off myself mostly)

WC: ~2.5k

Summary: Spencer reassures his girlfriend that she is the only one for him and that she's beautiful to him no matter what she's wearing

Warnings: body talk, insecurities about body (specifically a pudgy tummy) and relationship/worth/value, one (1) intrusive thought, concept of a safety dress that one feels comfortable in, a mention that reader might be comparing her body to the bodies of others, uh dresses? little rusty writing so early seasons Spencer may be a little OOC but he's a sweetie

-

You tugged at the dress that you wore. It didn’t fit right. That’s all you could see, all you could feel. It didn’t look right either. No amount of tugging would crease out the pudge that was your tummy. You sigh and start looking for your safety dress that you were sure would still fit fine (or at least it might be looser).

You didn’t even hear Spencer come into your bedroom. He already had his suit and tie on, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. His gaze flits over your body before refocusing on the back of your head.

Neither one of you was particularly excited about this FBI Gala but the presence of every member of the BAU was mandatory. And being Spencer’s girlfriend, naturally he’d asked you to be his date so he could at least have his comfort with him at this stuffy event.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Looking for something…dear?” He was still trying out terms of endearment for you, determined to find a set of ones that felt right. Dear felt very formal and safe. He never imagined himself being able to call you "babygirl".

You sigh and look back at him. “This one dress.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting for a second as his mind processes that information and his response. “What’s wrong with the one you have on?”

It was a simple question. So why did it make you wanna shrink? You pause for a long time. Too long, because he speaks up again.

“Have I said something wrong?” He had taken to asking this question when you paused for a long time. He knew you were probably just trying to articulate your thoughts but he very much was afraid of offending you. He wasn’t used to relationships. Professional relationships were difficult enough for him to navigate on some level so a personal, romantic relationship was still mostly uncharted territory where he’d rather not veer into choppy waters.

“No…I just…wanna try a different dress on.”

“That one’s fine.” He still doesn’t understand why you need another dress when you’d already put one on.

Fine. The word echoed in your mind. You knew he hadn’t meant it condescendingly. You knew he was being honest. And you loved him but you yearned for a moment when a man saw you in a dress and his brain just went “gorgeous”. Spencer, of course, hadn't gotten a good enough reign on the sails just yet to be there in the relationship. And you recognized this and loved his genuine awkward charm. But you still wished he wasn’t so…clinically honest sometimes. Because it didn't always hit as sweet.

“It’s just one other dress.”

He switches gears. “Can I help you look?”

“I swear it was in here.”

“If you just-”

If I were just thinner, I wouldn’t need my safety dress. Fuck off intrusive thought!

You huff louder than necessary (cutting Spencer off) and you stop searching.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer is getting more concerned now. He takes a step towards you. He was pleased that he could fairly easily switch to “my person’s sad, must fix” mode. He thought he’d blunder more when it came to that particular aspect of a romantic relationship.

You don’t answer right away. He assumes the answer is "yes" but has also learned not to say that he assumes that.

“Can you tell me if something is? Please?” His voice softens like it does sometimes and he looks at you with those stupid hazel puppy dog eyes.

You look at him and know instantly that he sincerely just wants to know what’s up with you. You’d already had a very deep conversation about honesty in the relationship so you know it doesn’t do either of you any good to maintain that you’re fine.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being…” you trail off.

“Hey, I won’t think you’re anything you’re afraid of, ok? I promise.”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say.”

“You’re not "stupid". You’re not a "child". You’re not "too sensitive". I promise what you feel is valid. And I intend to treat it as such.”

You knew he was right. You knew he’d never make fun of you.

“I don’t like this dress on my body.” That was both harder and easier to say than you thought it would be.

He processes for a second. And then asks the simple question: “why not?” which has a simple answer…right?

Your first instinct is to say “because I look fat in it” but you stop yourself from saying that because you think you sound “like a complaining woman”. Your next thought is that Spencer’s first thought will not be: “Jesus, I don’t wanna hear anymore.”.

“I don’t like how my stomach looks.” You rephrase and clarify.

He looks down. That’s simply his first instinct. Your stomach looks like it’s looked like the entire time he’s known you (a year or so at this point). He doesn’t want to keep asking the same question over and over again. But he knows “you look fine” isn’t generally accepted by women as an answer so he knows that won’t fix the problem.

“What’s different about it?” He asks instead.

This gives you pause. “N-Nothing…” you’re forced to answer/admit.

“Does it not fit right? Does it feel too tight?” Your comfort. That’s what he’s concerned about. You were so afraid he’d just say “yeah? You’re fat.” even if he didn’t see it as a bad thing, that still might be triggering to hear. But his line of thinking is so far from that.

“It just…shows too much,”

“But it’s covering…” he pauses, knowing that line of thinking isn’t correct. “you don’t like how you look..” he reaches a hand out to almost touch your stomach but he stops short of it. “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with the dress.”

He hated unsolved mysteries (the mysteries themselves, he had nothing against Robert Stack personally) and he hated not having things figured out. He hated being confused but trying to navigate a relationship often left him feeling like he was up a creek without an oar.

You cup your stomach, hoping he’ll understand. He does not.

“That’s your stomach…”

“The dress is too small.” You try to clarify for him.

“Is it? Is it supposed to fit so…snuggly?”

“Who knows? I just know I’d feel better in my safety dress.”

“Safety dress?” He questions.

You freeze. You’d never told him about it.

“What’s that?” He asks, inquisitive as ever.

“It’s uh…a dress I look…and feel good in.”

“As opposed to…the dress you have on now?”

You avert your gaze and nod. He isn’t the type to grab chins and force people to look at them so he doesn’t do that.

“Sweetie? Can you look at me? Please?” He instead requested softly. Sweetie made sense because you were so sweet.

You meet his gaze and it’s as soft and warm as ever.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll help you find your safety dress but I need you to know that you look beautiful as you are now.” He swapped fine with beautiful because he felt the emphasis was necessary.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m not. I could walk out that door right now with you and be happy to have you at my side. You don’t need to be wearing any particular dress. I don’t care about the dress, I care about the person wearing it.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We both know we’d both rather be in comfortable clothes watching Star Trek tonight than going to this…Gala. I wouldn’t have asked you to suffer it with me but…I really want you there with me. It’s so many people and so much…pressure.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“You’d be in fuzzy pj pants right now if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault.”

“I kind of feel like it is. I don’t want you to go if you’re just gonna be uncomfortable all night.”

He starts to search for the dress, very determined to help you be comfortable.

“Could you describe the dress to me?”

“I-It’s uh…black…short sleeves, it’s got a satin body with a ruffle on the end and lace details over that.”

He looks back at you quizzically. “That’s your safety dress?”

“It doesn’t look like what you’re imagining.” You joke lightly.

“How do you know what I’m imagining?”

“Some sexy little number?”

“Some…cute little number…” He clarifies.

“There! Don’t move your hand! That’s it!” You point.

Spencer pulls the dress out. It’s black. It’s got short sleeves. It’s got lace details all over and the “body” or main part under the lace is black satin or silk. It’s knee length.

“Do you feel more comfortable in this dress?” He asked as he passed it to you.

“We’ll see.” You struggle to unzip the dress you currently had on. “Help? Please?”

He puts the dress on the bed. He comes up behind you to unzip the dress. You shimmy out of the dress. It falls to pool around your ankles. You pop the safety dress over your head. 

You look at yourself in the mirror. You sigh. "No...it's too short...and it's not fancy enough..."

Spencer is just looking at you. He isn't saying anything. He's just admiring how you look in the dress.

"What do you think?" You ask Spencer as you run your hand over your stomach in the dress.

Spencer doesn't immediately respond. He's distracted by the skin that's showing.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?" He meets your gaze.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh...sorry." He smiles, shaking his head. "What was your question?"

"Do you think this dress is appropriate for the Gala? Or should I find something longer?"

"Well I uh..." He trails off, not really knowing what is and wasn't Gala appropriate (he hadn't been informed and assumed you'd know so he hadn't asked).

"Oh! Wait! I know...I have this longer green dress..."

You look through your closet again to find it. Spencer distracts himself from checking you out while your back is turned.

"I found it!" You proclaim. "Size 10, ok...should be ok..."

"Size 10 is fine." Spencer hears himself say.

"Wish it were a 12."

"Hey...don't say that. Try it on. I bet you look just as pretty. Because...you always look pretty."

You smile before you change dresses. Spencer respectfully averts his gaze so he isn't checking you out in your underwear. But he looks back when you're situating the green dress out.

"Wow...definitely more...Gala. I especially like the um...outer layer? Is that what it's called?"

"I wouldn't kn-"

"Overlay!" He interrupts. "Sorry." He says sheepishly.

"That's a good word for it." You smile.

"It's really pretty. Y-You're...really pretty. The dress is pretty on you. You look pretty in the dress." He blushes slightly like he's embarrassed he seemingly couldn't settle on what to say, so he'd just said every variation he could think of (because it was all true).

"You really don't have to say all that, you know."

"Why not? Why can't I? Why shouldn't I?" He was genuinely curious as to why he couldn't compliment his girlfriend. That's what a boyfriend did, wasn't it?

"You can just say I look nice."

"But what if I feel more and I want to articulate that to you?" It was a simple question.

And it makes you pause, because you’d never before considered that he might want to wax poetic about your beauty.

"I'm not lying to you." He reassures.

"I-I know..." You nod.

"Do you?" He queries, but not in a condescending way. "Do you truly understand that I'm not just saying nice things to make you feel good? Do you comprehend that what I tell you is truly how I feel?"

"I guess I'm just not used to receiving compliments."

"Not used to receiving them or unwilling to accept the genuine ones as being genuine?" Because there was a distinction.

"Th-The latter, I guess." You say softly, averting your gaze to the floor.

"Can you look at me please?" He requests softly.

You look into his hazel eyes and see nothing but genuine admiration and affection for you.

"Do you believe that I love you?"

"Yes." You hesitate for only a second.

"That's good." He doesn’t mention the hesitation. “And would you believe me if I told you that I believe that you look beautiful in any dress you put on?”

“Yes. I believe that you believe that.”

“What do I have to do to make you believe that?” He asks softly, genuinely.

“I-I don’t know…”

He sighs. He steps closer to you. “You have looked beautiful in all three dresses I’ve seen you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be on my arm and look pretty.”

You share a look. That sounded weird coming out of his mouth to the both of you. You share a smile.

“Arm candy.” He muses. “That doesn’t do justice to all that you are to me.”

"It doesn't?"

"Not even close."

"What do I mean to you?"

"So much. I could have a million years and I still would not be able to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, or to describe what you mean to me."

"What am I to you?"

"I truly believe you are my person. I walk into a room you're already in and nothing else matters. All I see is you. And you are...beautiful to me. Does that help explain why it doesn't matter what dress you wear or no matter how many other women are around you, I only focus on you? No one compares to you. I enjoy your company. You enjoy mine. Being with you just...feels so easy and effortless. From the minute we met, you were just...easy. You're easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to touch. I had never warmed so fast to a person. And you know what it was that hooked me?"

"What?" You manage to ask after being awestruck but his words.

"Not your body, well, nothing below your face. It was your eyes, your smile. So...kind and sweet..."

"Spencer..." You say softly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

"You're my person, my perfect puzzle piece."

You hug him and he hugs you right back, adoring the way your body fit against his. His arms wrap around you as he holds you to him, his chin tucking in on your shoulder.

"I love you." He whispers softly.

"I love you too." You say back.

"We should go. We're gonna be late." He goes to pull away from you.

"Can you hold me for just another minute? Please?"

"We can be late. Five minutes."

"Thank you."

He buries his face in your neck, smelling your hair.

"You smell like home."

[bucketbueckers]

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives. 

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

“Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal. 

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You��re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter. 

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads. 

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands. 

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting. 

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her. 

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in. 

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her. 

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede. 

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up. 

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused. 

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless. 

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

[leqonsluv3r]

leon!kennedy x bimbo!reader headcanons <3

an: my theme is gonna be just a smidge different now that i’m back. i’m also just going to be putting things out when im comfortable now. going to be putting less pressure on myself <3 anyways, this has been plaguing my brain lately so enjoy!!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon had never dated anyone like you in his entire life. hell, he had never even met someone like you until you showed up into his life, all sparkles and pink. it was truly something special, he expected you to go away just like all the others but you didn’t. you were the complete opposite of him, maybe that’s what drew you into his orbit. he was never sure.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon always made sure you were comfortable with him touching you. he never wanted to make you uncomfortable. you didn’t really seem to get the things he said most of the time but he made it very clear that if you didn’t want him to touch you, he wouldn’t. he needed you to understand that.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you knew that you weren’t like everyone else, you were very certain of that. your brain didn’t operate on the save wavelength as most people’s. leon was patient with you, even when simple things confused you. he never called you dumb or made you feel like crap. he was sweet, he wasn’t like other men. maybe that’s why you stuck around with him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ even when you went on a shopping spree and bought a ton of things you didn’t really need, but wanted. leon payed for most of them, even when he didn’t have too. you had never had someone that wasn’t your parents offer such a thing. it made your heart all warm, made your belly erupt in butterflies. leon was not like the others.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you would get stared at in public a lot too. you were used to it by now, but it seemed leon wasn’t. after all, you were a little more…luckier off then some girls. you had bigger boobs and a nice ass. it just seemed to attract a lot more attention when you were out. same with the stuff you wore, that didn’t really ever help much. leon almost wanted to wrap you in a paper bag so that none of the men would look your way when you guys went out. but even that wouldn’t work, he knew, you were going to attract attention either way. you were simply too beautiful.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon often had to explain simple things to you, he realized soon enough into the relationship that you were…not the brightest crayon in the box. but he found it adorable the way your mind worked sometimes. plus, he loved the way your face would scrunch up when you were the tiniest bit confused (and that was a lot). but he loved you for it anyways.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon loved helping you get dressed up for date nights too. he loved helping you put on whatever pink and flashy outfit you had wanted to wear. he loved watching you do your hair and your makeup, getting all dolled up for him. it made him feel underdressed (even though he wasn’t) and make him feel proud to call you his girlfriend.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ another thing leon loved more then anything was waking up next to you. the way your small snores would echo off the bedrooms paint, the way your eyelids would flutter when you were dreaming. it was like paradise to him. like he had suffered so much in his life just to make it to this point, have you sleeping next to him, all curled up in his sheets (or your sheets, depending on the day). he would never wake you up, he would try his hardest not too. just content with watching you sleep and dream like you didn’t have a care in the world.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon didn’t have to even try to get you to be affectionate with him. you did it all without fail. you weren’t clingy but you weren’t pawing at him like a wild animal either. you wouldn’t beg for his attention, he would willingly give it, because, how could he deny you? you were his perfect angel. you were everything he wasn’t. it would be like trying to deny himself air, simply impossible.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ leon loved having sex with you too. not for the obvious reasons…sure, you had a nice body. that was an added factor but you were so easy to read. he didn’t have to figure you out like some puzzle. you got so easily wound up and he could easily tell when you were aroused. he had it down to a science at this point.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you would be sitting next to him on the couch, your thighs would be pushed together at some point. then you’d lean your head into his shoulder. he would catch her, open his arms a little more so you could snuggle into his side. he would notice all these things, see the way your eyes struggle to stay focused on whatever they were watching on tv. you would start squirming and then…

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ your lips would find his, whatever would be playing on the tv would be forgotten and you would end up either underneath him, straddling his lap or in some position. he would let you guys make out, let his hands wander up to your breasts or your ass. your moans would only spur him on more. pushing his strained erection in his pants to basically become painful as they would make out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ eventually he would move you to the bedroom, lay you down on the sheets, he would pepper kisses all over your body. lay you bare and take his time with you. he would always prep you first, like he had all these things time in the world. stretch you open on his fingers or make you fall apart on his tongue. he always made sure you were ready. make sure you were enjoying yourself or else he wouldn’t enjoy himself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ he loved you so much, especially when he would have sex with you. your moans and whimpers echoing off the bedroom walls while he thrusted into you. the way your claw at his skin with her manicured nails. the way your thighs would wrap around his hips, hold him close to you in anyway he could as if to draw him in, make sure he never left. he never would, not when you were gripping him like a vice every time.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ the way your breasts would move with every thrust, the way your mouth would part and each time he hit that spot inside of you, you’d release a loud moan. sometimes he made you bury your head in the pillow so the neighbors didn’t complain but most of the time he didn’t care. he wanted to hear how good he made you feel. how well he satisfied you, made you fall apart underneath his grasp.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ every time he’d make you fall apart with him, he never got tired of it. the way your face would contort into full pleasure or the way your breathing would labor, the moans and sounds that would leave your mouth. he never got sick of it. sex with you would never get boring it was just one of the many things that kept him in love with you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ he would hold you close to him afterwards, clean you up. he loved holding you close afterwards, which you didn’t argue against. you loved cuddling close to him, feel his muscled arms wrap around you and hold you strongly. you felt safe and protected, loved. you didn’t ever want to let go of him. you felt like you had come home anytime you were in his arms. no judgement, no fear, no lies. just you and him as it always would be.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @shinigamigloss @sacredwarrior88 (if you want to be added to the taglist, just DM me!! they are open!!)

[humanjarvis]

my life is waiting for me

synopsis: a tour of the n109 zone goes awry.

tags: sylus tells mc about their lore for plot reasons, heavy angst, like mc’s straight up cruel to him bc they think he’s behind the explosion, sylus is too excited and sassy to be perceptive although he is in front of you most of the time, mc looks down on criminals & the n109 zone, there’s some kind of class tension in here which is interesting since he’s the rich one pairing: sylus x mc/reader (reader is mc but i’m assuming you won’t want to identify with them once u see) word count: 1.1k

a/n: this was an idea i had after his new world underneath story where it’s like “omg he was waiting for mc to come find him and live with him.” and in my head i was like well what if mc didn’t want to. and boom i wrote this in 2 hours. i don’t particularly like it and think it should be longer but don’t want to make it longer bc it hurt to write 

Sylus hadn’t meant to share the details of your past lives with you. 

It’d been a rare—extremely so—lapse in control, in patience. The years upon years of waiting for your return, of watching you from afar, of sending signals only you would know, had compounded, and compounded, and compounded again until his impulse had bested his brain. He’d spent so many of his hours calculating, planning ahead. For once in his cursed life, he’d wanted things to be simple. To tell you the truth, for you to understand, for you to stop glaring at him like a scuff on a white shoe. 

All things considered, you’d taken it…well. At least, taken it silently—which was a step up from screaming and trying to end him. 

He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask what you were thinking. The question had sat in the back of his throat like lead, weighing his tongue down, and before he could break free, you’d been out the door and on your way home.

But tonight, he had the chance to make it up to you. To make you see the life he’d built for you both in your absence—the luxury, authority, and immunity he’d curated just for you, sewing his bloodied self back together time and time again from the mere hope of being able to share something with you. Lasting, this time. 

Tonight, he’d introduce you to his territory. And by the end of it, it might be yours as well. 

You’d never been one to entertain distasteful ideas. Tonight must be a severe error in judgment.

One thing about that mobster, he was audacious. You’d been shocked when he’d contacted you again after spewing such an underhanded sob story about witches and dragons—a love you’d supposedly shared. You’d wondered where someone like him could have found a book of fairytales to steal that from. Wondered if he thought you naive enough to believe it. 

But still, you were kind enough to humor him, to join him for his grand tour of the N109 Zone. You’d sought him out for information, after all. And one way or another, you’d get it.

At least, that’s what you try to remind yourself as you weave through the swarm of rabble in the maroon-tinged dusk. The leering figures. The constant scuffles. The faint scent of iron that never left the air. 

“And this is the norm here?” you question, squeezing past the roughhousing gang of men to your left. Just an inch closer, and you would’ve made unwelcome contact. “This is how people…are?”

“Well, if you’ve never seen other people before, sweetie, we might have a much bigger problem on our hands.” There’s a buzz in his baritone voice, a foreign excitement threatening to burst through his suave exterior. For your sake, you hope it’s unrelated to the danger in the streets. But you wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Inconsequential sins aren’t worth damnation,” he says, voice raised from in front of you. “If you’re worried about your safety, I spend millions on security at every home and outpost. You’ll never know harm here.”

And he presses on. Oblivious to your revulsion, proud of his investments. 

“You enjoy it?” you ask, voice unnaturally even. 

“They make it a…thrilling place to live. You’re never too far from something interesting.” 

And as you wince at your reflection in a corner store window, the glass illuminated by the flashing lights of a siren inside, you believe him. 

The sickening crunch of bone on bone is your breaking point. 

It’s the highlight of the tour, he’d said—a boxing gym that he personally sponsors. Two fighters are sparring in the ring as you shuffle closer, reluctant steps falling behind his confident strides. 

A left hook and a throbbing welt. A right jab and a spray of blood. An uppercut and a flying tooth. 

It's vile.

His eyes gleam as he looks on with approval, and you dread the way his lips part, like he’s seconds from introducing you. 

Before he can catch their attention, you retreat to a too-dim street light just outside the entrance. Your resentment isn’t worth getting scooped up by a more aggressive predator. 

“You prefer basketball, I take it? Give me a list of your favorite players, and I’ll send them offers to form a team here. I’ll even let you pick the mascot, although I’m not sure the N109 Kittens would intimidate our rivals.” 

The laugh you spare him is hollow. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Water polo, then? I admit I didn’t take you for the ty—” 

“Why would I ever want to live here, Sylus?” 

A moment of silence. Then another. A few more.

As your words pierce him, the signature sounds of his kingdom grate your ears: the roar of speeding engines. The raucous laughter of hopeless drunks. The rushed footfalls of successful thieves. The hum of a commandeered power grid. 

He swallows. “I didn't realize it wasn't to your standards,” he says coolly. “I’ll consider a curfew, more regulations to keep people in check.”  

“Right,” you grin, and you can’t find the courtesy to subdue the scorn in your voice. “More laws will fix a land of criminals. A curfew can fix a culture.” 

You can see the sneer on your face in his glassy garnet eyes. 

“You spent all that time waiting for me, you said? And this was the best you could come up with? If a city of scum is how you show your love, then maybe I dodged a bullet all those years ago.” 

The words leave your mouth with relative ease, save for the inevitably awkward atmosphere. It wasn’t hard to renounce a life you’d never lived. 

But the man in front of you fails to mask his deflation. The slight recoil and crumbling composure. The sag in his once proud shoulders. The closing eyes and the deep exhale and the twitch in his idle hands. 

For a moment, you watch him, wondering if the man who’d ruined your life could be so easily defeated by a few barbs from a stranger. 

Another blink, though, and the moment has passed. 

“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go tonight, then?” His face and posture are neutral. Not restored, but recovered enough. If not for the tremor in his voice, you would think that you’d imagined his show of humanity. 

Despite it all, you’re relieved that he asks. Not enough to take back your words, but enough to keep your next ones civil.

“I’d like to go back to Linkon. Where my life is waiting for me.”