#( everyone begins in ignorance. ) ▍ prompts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pbaz7 · 25 days ago

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ONE SHOT: GRAVITY

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content (lowkey crazy)

word count: 15.6k

A/N: This is lowkey crazy. It wasn’t supposed to be this long but I wanted to follow their prompt fully because they included so many details🥹. This is for whoever asked me to write them in a homoerotic friendship with jealous girlfriends and hella tension. I hope I brought your vision to life 🫶🏼. Also the sexual content is a little crazy just a heads up ✨ it’s what they asked for 😀 Them love reacts better be long because this was rough

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The first time Paige met Azzi, it was like something in the universe clicked into place. It wasn’t anything dramatic—no lightning bolts or instant sparks between them—but there was a certain ease between them that Paige couldn’t ignore. It was during a Team USA training camp, and while most of the other girls were politely navigating introductions, Paige, in true Paige fashion, latched onto Azzi like they’d known each other forever.

“Alright I guess I’m stuck with you,” Azzi had said after Paige had followed her to nearly every drill, every water break, and even halfway to the locker room. There was a teasing edge to her voice, but the corners of her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. A real smile. Not the polite kind she gave to everyone else, but something softer, something that would eventually become just for Paige.

Paige, of course, had grinned wide, completely unbothered by the jab. “Don’t worry you’ll get used to it,” she’d said with a shrug, already acting like they were inseparable. And, as it turned out, they were.

From that moment on, they’d been each other’s shadow. Azzi liked to pretend Paige’s constant attention annoyed her, always throwing in a sarcastic comment or rolling her eyes when Paige got particularly clingy. But anyone who knew Azzi well enough could see the way her expression softened whenever Paige was near. She didn’t just tolerate Paige; she thrived with her around.

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper, more complicated in ways neither of them could have predicted. It wasn’t just the jokes and playful shoves or the way Paige always knew how to make Azzi laugh, even on her worst days. It was the way they existed in each other’s space so naturally, so effortlessly, that it almost felt like breathing and breathing got a little harder when the other one wasn’t around.

At first, the lines they crossed were small, so subtle they could almost pretend they weren’t there. Azzi’s hand lingering a second too long on Paige’s shoulder during a team huddle. The way Paige’s voice softened when she spoke to Azzi, even when she was in full-on competitive mode or yelling two seconds before. Then there were the private moments—stolen late-night conversations where the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and whatever unspoken thing pulsed between them.

Neither of them addressed it. Why would they? What they had felt perfect as it was. They leaned into it, basked in it, even as it made their exes irritable or filled with discomfort.

“How can you not see it?” one of Paige’s exes demanded once, her voice rising with frustration in the middle of Paige’s room. “The way you two look at each other—it’s like I don’t even exist when she’s around!” Paige had shrugged off the accusation, the same way she always did. She wasn’t about to dissect her relationship with Azzi for anyone, least of all someone who clearly didn’t get it.

Azzi had similar run-ins with her own girlfriends. One had even gone as far as to call Paige a “third wheel,” which made Azzi laugh harder than it probably should have at the idea of Paige being the one who was the third wheel. “Look if you’re insecure,” she’d said coolly, “then maybe this isn’t going to work.” It hadn’t.

Through all the breakups and messy accusations, Paige and Azzi never changed. They stayed in their little bubble, handsy and playful and just a little too intense, but never quite crossing the line. It was safer that way, they told themselves multiple times. Safer to stay in the gray area, where nothing could go wrong and everything stayed perfect.

Except, now, they were older, so things were starting to feel different. Heavier. The looks lasted way too long. The touches lingered with a heat that left both of them feeling uncomfortable.

Now, as juniors at UConn, Paige and Azzi had built something unshakable—at least, unshakable to them. Paige, a red-shirt junior after tearing her ACL the year before, had made her way back to the court with Azzi as her biggest supporter every step of the way. They had been through it all together: the grueling practices, the late-night study sessions, the euphoric wins, the heartbreaking injuries, they have spent almost every memorable moment of their lives by one anothers side. Yet, for some reason neither could articulate—or maybe they just didn’t want to—they refused to fully cross the line and be together.

Which left them here: two college athletes in their 20s, in the best shape of their lives, with years of unresolved tension simmering between them. It was almost comical when Paige thought about it. How many times had she walked into Azzi’s dorm, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to be able to do what she wanted.

Living just a few doors down from each other didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse. Proximity was its own kind of torture. Paige would find herself drunkenly walking past Azzi’s room after a night out clenching her jaw at the thought of knocking.

Whenever the two of them were in the same room, everyone else might as well not exist. It was a phenomenon their teammates had long since grown used to, though it still sparked the occasional teasing when one of them was being unreasonably jealous. At parties, team meetings, or even casual hangouts, Paige and Azzi had this way of orbiting each other. Sometimes it was as simple as the way Paige would lean in close when Azzi spoke, her eyes fixed on Azzi’s lips the entire time. Other times, it was the way Azzi’s hand would find Paige’s arm, her fingers wrapping around her bicep as if it was her right to do so.

Their teammates noticed. Their friends noticed. And, of course, their girlfriends noticed.

It was a source of constant arguments for both of them. Paige’s girlfriend, frustrated and teetering on the edge of insecurity, had confronted her more than once. “Why do you even need me if you have her?” she’d snapped during one particularly heated fight. Paige had stared at her, dumbfounded, because what was she supposed to say? What did she expect her to say? That she didn’t need Azzi? That she could go a day without thinking about her, texting her, missing her when she wasn’t around?

“You’re overreacting,” Paige said, her voice clipped. “Azzi’s my best friend. I’m not about to change how I am with her because you don’t like it.”

Azzi’s girlfriend expressed similar frustrations, accusing her of being “too close” to Paige, of crossing lines that no one else seemed to get away with. Azzi had brushed it off just as easily as Paige had, if not easier. “If you can’t handle me having a best friend, then maybe I’m not the type of girl you’re looking for,” she’d said coolly, shutting the conversation down before it could spiral.

And so the cycle continued. Arguments, tension, half-hearted apologies, and a refusal to change. Because the truth was, Paige and Azzi didn’t see anything wrong with the way they were. To them, it was just how they worked. How they had always worked. They weren’t going to apologize for it.

But deep down, they both knew it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t simple at all really. They were completely in love with one another.

For now, though, they kept pretending. Pretending that their girlfriends’ constant jealousy didn’t irritate them. Pretending that their late-night conversations and far too intimate inanimate behavior was completely innocent. Pretending that they weren’t both standing on the edge of a bridge waiting for something inevitable to plunge them into freezing water.

Because once they jumped, there would be no going back, no pretending it didn’t exist anymore. And maybe—just maybe—that’s exactly what they were afraid of.

The dorm common room was lively with chatter and the soft clinking of LEGO pieces filling the air as KK, Ice, and Jana sat at the table, deeply engrossed in their latest construction project. Paige, however, was sprawled on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on her phone. Her girlfriend, Kehlani, sat beside her, the two of them technically together but clearly existing in separate worlds at the moment. Kehlani had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get Paige’s attention for the last 15 minutes, only to give up and return to her own phone in silent frustration when Paige was incessant that she was doing something important.

The atmosphere shifted the moment Azzi walked in. Dressed in her usual athletic wear and exuding her effortless confidence, she greeted the group at the table saying casually, “What are y’all building now?” KK mumbled something about a Star Wars set, but Azzi was already moving past them, her attention zeroing in on the couch—and on Paige.

“Hey,” Azzi said with a grin, walking straight up to them as if Kehlani wasn’t even there. Without hesitation, she plopped down on the couch, her movements familiar. In one smooth motion, she grabbed Paige’s knee, parting them just enough to slide her own legs in between, draping them comfortably across Paige’s lap.

Kehlani looked up from her phone, her eyebrows furrowing as she watched the scene unfold. But she didn’t say anything. This was tame compared to some of the things she’s witnessed.

Paige, on the other hand, chuckled softly, locking her phone and setting it aside. “Hello to you too,” she said, her tone teasing.

Azzi grinned, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “I missed you,” she said casually, her eyes locking with Paige’s. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Paige’s focus was now fully on Azzi, something Kehlani had been desperately trying to achieve. “You’re the one who’s been busy,” Paige shot back with a playful smirk, her hand sliding over Azzi’s leg as she adjusted it, pulling it more securely into her lap. The movement was instinctive, practiced—like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Kehlani’s grip on her phone tightened. She glanced between them, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Do you need me to move over?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

Paige blinked, as if remembering for the first time that Kehlani was even there. “Huh? Nah, you’re fine,” she said quickly, brushing off the question. Her hand, however, didn’t move from Azzi’s leg.

Azzi leaned her head back against the couch, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re being dramatic, Paige,” she teased, ignoring Kehlani entirely and going back to their original conversation. “I wasn’t even that busy today.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Paige quipped, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on Azzi’s shin.

From the table, Ice shot KK a knowing look, raising an eyebrow as if to say here we go again. KK stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the LEGO set. They’d seen this dynamic play out too many times to be surprised anymore.

Kehlani, however, was visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and staring at the two of them like she was waiting for something—anything—to break the tension. But nothing ever did. Everyone knew this was just how they were. What no one could quite figure out, though, was why either of their “girlfriends” put up with it.

It wasn’t like Paige or Azzi had ever pretended their relationships were sacred. In fact, both had made it crystal clear on more than one occasion that they wouldn’t hesitate to walk away and that this was just something casual for when they were in season. “If you don’t like how we are, we can end it,” Paige had once said, almost nonchalantly, during a heated argument. Azzi wasn’t any different, offering Kali a similar, “You really don’t have to stay.”

But for whatever reason—whether it was the allure of dating two of UConn’s biggest stars or simply the hope that things might change—Kehlani and Kali stayed around. They endured. They tolerated. Even when moments like this made it painfully clear they were never going to be anything more than someone to turn to here and there when the tension became too uncomfortable to sit with.

Paige licked her lips absently, lifting her hips slightly to adjust Azzi’s legs again, which were still draped over her lap like they belonged there. Her hand gave an idle squeeze to Azzi’s calf before she glanced up. “You busy tonight?” she asked casually, her attention fixed entirely on Azzi.

Azzi tilted her head, her brown eyes drifting down to Paige’s hand on her leg. “Why?” she asked, her voice laced with flirtation.

Paige smirked. “Whatchu mean ‘why?’” she shot back, leaning into the word with a playful edge.

“Why are you asking me if I’m busy tonight?” Azzi pressed, a smile on her face, clearly enjoying the banter.

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m tryna come over,” she said simply. “Maybe watch a movie or something.”

Azzi chuckled softly, like she knew exactly where this was going. “You fall asleep every time,” she pointed out, her gaze flicking back up to Paige’s.

“Probably because you always pick boring-ass movies,” Paige said, a huge smile on her face.

Azzi’s laughter followed quickly. “You picked the last movie,” she countered, her voice full of mock indignation.

Their back-and-forth was so effortless, so locked into their own little world, that it took Kehlani a moment to realize they’d completely forgotten she was even sitting there. But she hadn’t forgotten. Not for a second.

“What if I want to hang out with Paige tonight?” Kehlani interjected suddenly, her voice cutting through the conversation.

Azzi froze, but only for a moment, her expression unreadable as she leaned back and waited for Paige’s response. She didn’t need to say anything—she already knew Paige would.

Paige turned her head, finally acknowledging Kehlani for the first time since Azzi had walked in. “Come on,” she said, her tone light, almost dismissive. “You been with me all day.”

Paige turned her head, finally acknowledging Kehlani for the first time fully since Azzi had walked in. “Come on,” she said, her tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been with me all day. We can just hang out tomorrow.”

Kehlani’s mouth opened slightly, her brow furrowing as she processed the casualness of it all—the way Paige said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

Kehlani’s voice was sharper now, her frustration rising. “What if I don’t want to hang out tomorrow?”

Paige shrugged, unfazed. “Then we’ll hang out the next day.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm, as if she couldn’t understand why Kehlani was making this a bigger deal than it needed to be.

For some reason, that made it worse. Kehlani’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising just enough to catch the attention of KK and Ice at the table. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about hanging out, Paige!”

Paige exhaled, visibly trying to keep her cool as she leaned back against the couch, her hand still casually draped over Azzi’s leg. “Look, I’m not about to argue with you in front of everybody right now,” she said evenly.

Kehlani crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. “What? You embarrassed?”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as if the question was almost laughable. Her hands remained where they were—comfortable, unbothered, still casually resting on Azzi, who hadn’t even looked up from her phone since the interruption. “No,” Paige said. “I’m just not about to argue with you right now.”

But Kehlani wasn’t backing down, she never did, her voice rising again as she tried to provoke Paige like always. “Right, because Azzi’s here. You don’t want to look bad in front of her, huh?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to her briefly before she shook her head again, her voice calm. “Come on, don’t make me do this to you in front of everybody.”

Her words, said so casually yet so definitively, made Kehlani’s face flush with a mix of anger and humiliation. KK, Ice and Jana exchanged awkward glances, clearly trying to stay out of it but they were struggling to hold in their giggles.

Azzi, still scrolling on her phone, finally shifted slightly, glancing between the two of them before giving Paige a subtle nudge with her foot, like she was silently telling her to chill. Paige glanced at her, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she turned back to Kehlani.

“You good?” Paige asked simply, her voice a little softer. It wasn’t a question that invited a real argument—it was a question that implied this conversation was over.

Kehlani’s lips pressed into a line as she sat back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room was thick, her frustration hanging heavy in the air.

Azzi shifted slightly in Paige’s lap, breaking the silence with a small sigh as she finally spoke. “Y’all good? Or can we go back to pretending this isn’t super awkward?”

KK, Ice, and Jana’s laughter finally filled the room as Paige and Azzi went back to their conversation.

“Alright so, what’s the move?” Paige asked, her voice low as she shifted slightly, her arm still resting over Azzi’s leg. “Your room or mine?”

Azzi smiled, tilting her head as her eyes dropped to Paige’s hand absentmindedly tracing patterns against her skin. “Mine. Obviously.”

“Obviously? Az bro, please. My bed is bigger. Way more comfortable.”

Azzi’s lips quirked. “Your bed’s overrated and I can never wake up on time in there with those black out curtains.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “One my bed isn’t overrated and you know it. Two, I can't handle your non-existent curtains. It wakes me up too early.”

“I know you can’t handle it,” Azzi teased, her smirk growing. “You whine about it every single time. It’s cute, though—makes me think you just like finding reasons to stay.”

The room seemed to grow smaller at that, the air between them growing a little tense. Paige’s laugh came a little too late, her fingers tightening slightly around Azzi’s leg. “Don’t flatter yourself. I stay for the snacks.”

Azzi tilted her head, her gaze flickering to Paige’s lips before settling back on her eyes. “You sure about that?” she asked, her voice dipping lower.

Paige held her gaze, her smirk faltering for a split second as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Pretty sure. You don’t have anything else I want.”

Azzi leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve always been such a bad liar Paige.”

Across the room, Jana stilled mid-motion, her hand hovering over a Lego piece as her eyes darted to the two of them. KK and Ice exchanged a look, KK mouthing a silent “Yikes” before turning back to their project.

“You’re ridiculous,” Paige said, shaking her head with a soft laugh, but the way her fingers brushed over Azzi’s leg a little higher betrayed her.

“Ridiculous enough to keep you coming back,” Azzi shot back.

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but her breath hitched when Azzi added, “But I get it—you gotta keep up appearances. We’ll see later.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her laugh coming out strained. “Yeah we’ll see later.”

That was the moment Kehlani finally broke, the tension in her chest snapping. She stood abruptly, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

Paige barely looked up, still holding Azzi’s gaze. “You good?”

Kehlani let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’m great. Just remembered I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

Azzi finally turned her head, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Kehlani. “You sure?”

Kehlani ignored the comment, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Have fun tonight Paige. Looks like you already are.”

Paige’s smirk faded as she watched Kehlani walk out, the door slamming harder than it needed to. For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint sound of KK, Ice and Jana pretending to be preoccupied with their Legos.

Azzi broke the silence, her voice light. “Think she’s mad at me?”

Paige chuckles, leaning back against the couch. “She’s mad at me,” she muttered, though her hand stayed firmly on Azzi’s leg.

“Can’t blame her,” Azzi said softly, her eyes locking with Paige’s again. “I’d be mad too if I had to watch this.”

Paige’s breath caught, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s skin before she forced herself to look away, her jaw clenching so tightly it ached.

Jana raised her eyebrows, fully catching the moment and glancing toward KK and Ice like, Are we really going to pretend we didn’t hear that? But Ice just shook her head, mouthing, Let it go.

Paige finally exhaled, her voice low as she tried to steer the conversation back. “So…whose room is it gonna be?”

Azzi’s grin returned. “Yours,” she said. “But only because you’re such a baby about my blinds and I’m being nice.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, holding out her hand to Azzi. “Let’s go before you say something else that gets me in trouble.”

Azzi took her hand, standing up and leaning just close enough to murmur, “Maybe I can do something this time instead.”

…

The glow of the TV screen cast a faint light across Paige's room, illuminating the two of them as they lay side by side on her bed. The random movie playing in the background barely registered to either of them, its plotline easily forgotten beneath the quiet hum of tension that seemed to follow them everywhere.

Paige had ditched her hoodie the moment they got comfortable, leaving her in a fitted black tank top that clung to her toned frame and a pair of loose gray sweats that hung on her hips. Azzi, meanwhile, had claimed one of Paige’s XL hoodies she stole from the storage closet—navy blue with "UConn" printed across the chest—and it practically swallowed her, the hoodie just long enough to hide her pajama shorts underneath.

For a while, they sat in relative silence, their occasional comments about the movie mixed in with quiet chuckles.

Paige adjusted her position, shifting slightly to lean back against her headboard. Her hands slid behind her head, fingers lacing together as she let out a content sigh. The movement caused the hem of her tank top to ride up, revealing a strip of skin just above the waistband of her sweats.

Azzi’s gaze flicked downward, the motion unintentional at first—but once her eyes landed on the exposed skin, they lingered. The way Paige’s muscles shifted with each breath was almost hypnotic.

Without fully thinking about it, Azzi reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the bare skin.

Paige’s head tilted down, her brow lifting as her eyes met Azzi’s. “What are you doing?” she asked softly, her tone somewhere between amused and curious.

Azzi didn’t stop, her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns along the line of Paige’s stomach. Her touch was featherlight, sending a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she replied.

Paige shifted slightly, her stomach tensing under Azzi’s touch. “Looks like you’re trying to distract me.”

“Distract you from what?” Azzi asked, a smile forming on her face. Her eyes flicked up to Paige’s, the challenge clear in them.

Paige exhaled, a small, breathy laugh escaping her lips. “From this terrible movie you picked.”

Azzi snorted softly, her fingers still moving in slow circles. “You picked the movie,” she corrected.

“Well, you didn’t stop me,” Paige countered, her voice soft but strained as she shifted again, her arms dropping to her sides. Her hand moved instinctively, fingers lightly wrapping around Azzi’s wrist to still her movements.

Azzi’s smile deepened, her thumb now brushing deliberately against Paige’s skin. “You gonna stop me?” she asked, her voice dipping lower, the question feeling heavier than it should have.

Paige stared at her, the air between them growing impossibly thick. “Should I?” she asked back, her voice quiet, almost a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room being the faint dialogue from the forgotten movie. Azzi’s fingers stilled against Paige’s stomach, but she didn’t pull away, her gaze locked on Paige’s like she was daring her to make the next move.

Paige’s jaw tightened slightly. “You’re gonna start something we can’t finish,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t respond right away, but the glint in her eyes said more than words ever could. Instead, she moved, her weight shifting as she climbed on top of Paige, settling herself comfortably in her lap. She straddled Paige’s waist effortlessly, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her.

Paige didn't even react. So used to having Azzi on her like this but this time her eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity when Azzi grabbed the loose string of Paige’s sweatpants.

Azzi’s fingers toyed with the string lazily, looping it around her finger as if she had all the time in the world. Her expression was calm but her eyes burned with unspoken intent. “Who says we can’t finish it?” she finally said, her voice low, almost a purr.

Paige let out a breathless laugh, her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You’re bold tonight,” she said, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed any attempt at sounding unaffected.

Azzi just smirked, her head tilting slightly. “I’ve always been bold,” she said, her hands still playing with the string.

Before she could push it further, Paige’s hands came up, wrapping around Azzi’s wrists firmly but gently to get her to stop. Her fingers slipped between Azzi’s, interlacing them as she guided their hands away from her waist. Paige looked up at her, the smile on her face soft but her grip strong.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Paige murmured, her voice strained. She didn’t look away, her thumbs absentmindedly brushing against Azzi’s knuckles.

Azzi leaned in closer, their faces now only inches apart. “Trouble?” she repeated, her breath warm against Paige’s skin. “I think you like trouble.”

Paige’s smile widened slightly, her eyes dropping to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before flicking back up. “Maybe,” she admitted, her voice low. “But not when it comes to you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Especially when it comes to me.” she challenged back, her fingers tightening around Paige’s in response.

Paige didn’t answer immediately, her gaze searching Azzi’s face like she was trying to decide how far to let this go. Eventually, she exhaled sharply, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she said softly.

Azzi smiled, leaning back slightly but not moving from her spot. “Good thing I’ll make it worth it,” she replied.

Paige’s brow lifted at that, her lips curling into a grin. “Oh yeah? How you gonna make it worth it?”

Azzi leaned forward again, closing the gap between them just enough for her voice to drop. “That depends,” she said, her gaze locked on Paige’s. “What do you like?”

Paige blinked slowly, her smirk fading as her expression grew more serious. Her eyes searched Azzi’s, studying her, trying to gauge just how far Azzi was willing to take this tonight. The air between them was too thick, and for a moment, Paige almost didn’t answer. But then she sat up slightly, her confidence returning as she spoke.

“I like being in control,” she said simply.

Azzi’s head tilted at this, her lips curving into an intrigued smile. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft, almost coaxing.

Paige just nodded, her jaw tightening at Azzi’s tone as she kept her eyes on the curly haired girl, daring her to react.

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, her smile growing as she shifted her weight, pressing down just slightly to remind Paige of the position she was in. “What kind of control?” Azzi asked, her tone full of curiosity.

Paige let her head fall back slightly, her tongue running across her bottom lip before she looked up at Azzi through her lashes. “All of it,” she replied.

Azzi exhaled a short laugh, her eyes flickering with interest. “All of it,” she repeated, as if testing the words on her tongue. She leaned in closer, her lips just barely brushing the shell of Paige’s ear as she spoke. “What if I told you I like being submissive P?”

Paige’s brows raised slightly in surprise, her hands instinctively tightening their grip on Azzi’s. “Do you now?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity but tinged with amusement.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look Paige in the eyes, her gaze steady. “I do,” she admitted, her voice softer now but still filled with confidence. “But no one’s ever been able to make me submit before.”

Paige’s fingers twitched where they were still holding Azzi’s hands, the slight movement enough to catch Azzi’s attention. Azzi glanced down at their joined hands, a small smile playing on her lips as she lifted them and guided Paige’s hands under her hoodie, placing them firmly on her waist.

The warmth of Azzi’s skin under her palms sent a jolt through Paige, her jaw tightening almost involuntarily. She shifted her hips beneath Azzi, trying to find some semblance of restraint, but the pressure between them only heightened the tension in the room. Their eyes locked, the silence between them speaking volumes as neither of them looked away.

Paige, unable to hold back any longer, tugged Azzi closer by the front of her hoodie, the sudden movement leaving no space between them. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering with something playful as she whispered, “You want me.”

It wasn’t a question—it was a fact, delivered in that same confident tone Azzi always carried.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound low and rough, her grip tightening on Azzi’s waist. “No, I don’t,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Azzi raised a brow at her, the corners of her lips curling into a smirk. “Right,” she said. “And the sky isn’t blue.”

Paige’s smirk widened as she tilted her head, leaning in slightly, their faces barely inches apart. “You want me,” she countered, her eyes boring into Azzi’s.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t,” she denied, though her voice betrayed her, softer and less certain than it should’ve been if there was any truth to the words.

Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s lips for a fleeting second before returning to her eyes. “Liar,” she murmured, her hands sliding ever so slightly higher under Azzi’s hoodie, her fingers pressing gently against her ribs.

Azzi swallowed, her breath getting stuck for a moment before she forced herself to smirk again. “Prove it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, the challenge clear in her tone.

Paige considered Azzi’s words for a moment, her eyes flicking between Azzi’s lips and the playful glint in her eyes. “We’ll get in trouble if I do,” Paige said.

Azzi tilted her head, her smile never falling as she leaned down. She stretched out over Paige’s chest, her weight settling comfortably as if she belonged there. Her lips hovered near Paige’s neck now, close enough that Paige could feel the faint brush of her breath.

Azzi didn’t say anything. She just lingered there, her nose grazing the edge of Paige’s jaw as she breathed her in, taking her time like she had all the patience in the world. The warmth of her closeness, the soft scent of her, was enough to send Paige’s pulse racing, her heart pounding so loudly she knew Azzi could feel it.

Neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable—an unspoken understanding settling in the air that they went far enough today. Paige’s hands, still resting under Azzi’s hoodie, started to move, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns along the curve of Azzi’s ribs. The light pressure of her touch seemed to ground them both, though Paige’s own heart was far from calm.

Azzi sighed softly, her breath warm against Paige’s neck as she nestled closer, her face burying deeper into the curve of Paige’s neck. Her weight was warm and familiar, her presence something that felt so natural.

The movie played on in the background, long forgotten. The screen’s flickering light painted their quiet moment in soft, shifting shadows, but neither of them noticed. Azzi’s breathing began to slow, her body relaxing fully against Paige’s.

Paige, too, felt herself drifting, the tension she always carried melting away as Azzi pressed into her. Her fingers still moved lightly against Azzi’s ribs, though her motions became lazier, slower, until they stopped altogether.

And just like that, they fell asleep.

…

The sharp flick of the light switch broke the quiet of the morning, alternating between brightness and darkness like a strobe. Paige groaned in protest, her face scrunching up against the sudden intrusion. With a low grumble, she shifted, her arms wrapping tighter around Azzi, who was still lying across her.

Without fully opening her eyes, Paige let out a frustrated huff and shifted their positions, rolling them over so that she was sprawled on top of Azzi. She buried her face in Azzi’s neck now, trying to shield herself from the offensive light.

“Seriously, Isuneh?” Paige muttered, her voice muffled and rough with sleep.

Azzi stirred beneath her, blinking awake slowly at the movement and the flickering light. She shifted, her hands lightly resting on Paige’s back. “What’s going on?” Azzi mumbled, her voice groggy.

Ice leaned casually against the doorframe, a smirk on her face as she flipped the light switch again. “Paige, Kehlani’s here,” she said. “Figured I’d spare you the argument today and come wake you up before I let her in.”

Paige groaned louder at this, her forehead pressing deeper into Azzi’s shoulder. “Turn it off. I don’t care,” she grumbled, her words barely audible.

Azzi’s lips quirked into a sleepy smile, her hand brushing lightly against Paige’s side. “Paige…” she said softly, trying to coax her.

When Ice flicked the light switch one more time for good measure, Paige let out another groan of annoyance, her fingers digging lightly into Azzi’s waist. “You’re dead to me,” she muttered toward Ice, though her face remained firmly hidden.

Azzi chuckled, now fully awake, her hand lazily tracing patterns along Paige’s back. She lifted her head slightly to glance at Ice. “I got it,” she said, her voice still soft and groggy. “Just give me five minutes.”

Ice raised a brow at the scene, the sight of Paige practically plastered to Azzi’s chest. But she said nothing, instead letting out a small laugh as she locked the door before shutting it behind her.

Azzi sighed, leaning her head back against the pillow. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. It was still early—way too early for any of this.

“Paige,” Azzi murmured, glancing down at the girl now sprawled across her. Paige didn’t respond, her body still dead weight against Azzi’s as if she had every intention of going back to sleep.

“We’ve got time,” Azzi said gently, her hand sliding up and down Paige’s spine. “Practice isn’t for another hour and a half.”

Paige shifted slightly, her arm tightening around Azzi’s waist as she mumbled something incoherent.

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Go back to sleep grumpy,” she murmured, her voice calm.

Paige grumbled again, adjusting herself one last time, her breath evening out as she settled back into Azzi.

Azzi let her head fall back against the pillow, her fingers continuing to trace lazy patterns along Paige’s back. The warmth of their closeness and the quiet rhythm of Paige’s breathing lulled them both into an easy calm. Just as Azzi predicted, after about five minutes, Paige’s breathing evened out, signaling she’d fallen asleep again.

Azzi sighed softly, glancing down at the girl draped across her. Moving from under Paige without waking her was easier said than done. Every time Azzi shifted even slightly, Paige’s fingers instinctively grabbed at her, like she was tethered to her.

“Of course,” Azzi muttered under her breath, stifling a small laugh.

Finally, with painstaking slowness, Azzi managed to slide from under Paige and get up without disturbing her. She lingered for a moment, her gaze softening as she adjusted the blanket over Paige before grabbing her phone off the desk. Moving quietly, she slipped out of the room and shut the door gently behind her.

The sight in the living room made her stifle a laugh. Ice was leaning over the kitchen counter, her chin propped on her hand, clearly half-asleep. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was only still awake to keep Kehlani from trying to go in the room.

Azzi chuckled, padding over to the counter. “Ice, go back to bed,” she said softly, her tone more amused than anything.

Ice blinked up at her, barely awake. “Oh my god I love you,” she mumbled before trudging off to her room, shutting the door behind her with a lazy swing.

Azzi turned toward the couch, where Kehlani was sitting, her arms crossed as she glanced up at Azzi. Her eyes flickered over Azzi’s frame—the oversized hoodie clearly belonging to Paige, paired with her pajama shorts just barely visible underneath.

Azzi walked toward the door, her steps casual. “You should let her sleep,” she said simply. “We’ve got practice later, and we’re traveling for a game tomorrow. She needs the extra rest.”

Her comment was purely practical, as always—Azzi thinking about Paige’s well-being like she always did. But Kehlani’s expression shifted, the neutrality of her gaze hardening slightly.

“I think I know what my girlfriend needs,” Kehlani said, her tone sharp.

Azzi stopped mid-step, turning slowly to face her. She didn’t say anything at first, just blinked at Kehlani blankly, her expression unreadable.

Kehlani’s posture stiffened, and the silence between them stretched for a moment too long.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor never faltering. “If you say so,” she finally said, her voice almost dismissive. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned back toward the door.

The tension in the air was unmistakable, but Azzi had no intention of indulging Kehlani’s obvious irritation. Instead, she opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway, leaving Kehlani sitting there, stewing in her own thoughts.

Azzi sighed as she opened the door to her room, only to freeze when she saw Kali sitting on the edge of her bed, arms crossed and her expression carefully neutral. It wasn’t unusual for Kali to speak her mind, but this was unexpected. Kali wasn’t like Kehlani—clingy and almost possessive. She had her own life and usually didn’t hover. So to find her waiting here now surprised Azzi.

“Hey,” Azzi greeted casually, recovering quickly as she walked toward the bed. She was determined to get at least 30 more minutes of sleep before practice.

Kali didn’t respond right away, just followed Azzi with her eyes as she flopped face-first onto the bed, mumbling into the sheets, “What’s up?”

“Where were you?” Kali asked, her voice calm.

“Fell asleep in Paige’s room watching a movie,” Azzi mumbled, barely lifting her head.

Kali’s tone didn’t change, but her next words were deliberate. “Kehlani texted me at a god forsaken hour. Said I should come ask you about it. Any idea why?”

Azzi let out a short laugh, turning her head just enough to glance at Kali. “I have no idea why that girl does anything she does.”

Kali tilted her head slightly, her expression sharp but not angry. “She thinks there’s something going on between you and Paige. And you know I agree with her.”

Azzi groaned, burying her face back into the pillow. So much for sleep. She pushed herself up on one elbow, her eyes meeting Kali’s. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—me and Paige aren’t fucking.”

Technically, Azzi wasn’t lying. She and Paige had never had sex. Sure, there was that one truth-or-dare kiss her freshman year, followed by a couple of hazy, alcohol-fueled kisses later that night. But that was years ago, and nothing had happened since then. So when she said it, she meant it.

Kali, however, didn’t seem convinced. “Then why can’t you two back off each other a little? Ease our minds.”

Azzi sighed, sitting up fully now, as she regarded Kali with a steady gaze. “I’m not going to stop being close with Paige,” she said, her tone softening slightly. “Because that’s part of who I am. If that’s a problem, I get it. But I’m not changing that.”

Kali’s expression hardened slightly, her arms crossing over her chest. “How are you ever going to have anything serious with someone if you refuse to change the way you two are together?”

Azzi shrugged. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

What Azzi didn’t say, though, was the truth buried deep in her chest—the truth she never admitted to anyone. She already knew where she’d end up. She knew Paige was the one she’d eventually take seriously. They both knew it, even if they didn’t say it out loud. That was the plan: give themselves time. Time to be young, to experience other people, to live a little before stepping into something that would consume them both.

But Azzi was certain. It would always be Paige.

Kali sighed. “When you said casual girlfriends, you meant it, huh?”

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her lips quirking up slightly as she hummed in response, offering no further explanation.

Kali got the hint. She stood, smoothing her shirt and offering Azzi a small smile. “Alright. Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” Azzi murmured, already sliding back down under the covers. “I’ll text you later.”

Kali nodded and let herself out, the door clicking shut softly behind her.

Azzi exhaled deeply, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before letting her eyes drift shut.

…

Things like that continued for a while—Paige and Azzi, stuck in each other’s orbit, getting closer with every passing day. Each interaction carried a little more weight, a little more intensity, and each time, it was harder for one of them to back away. Their words were more suggestive now, even in front of others. The team had noticed too, making bets on when the two would finally stop dancing around each other. They’d dubbed it “the finish line,” one night and no one believed it was far off.

Right now, though, Paige, Ice, KK, and Kehlani were crammed in Paige’s car, parked in the lot outside of Crumbl. The car smelled like cookies and laughter filled the small space as they did a “review” of the new flavors on Ice’s TikTok Live.

Ice sat up front next to Paige, her sore knee propped up as she balanced a cookie box on her lap. Kehlani and KK shared the backseat, KK practically bouncing with excitement as she waved around a piece of the new S’mores flavor.

“Ya’ll, this one is insane,” KK yelled, breaking off a piece and leaning forward to shove it toward Paige’s face. “P boogers you gotta try this!”

Paige chuckled, keeping one hand on the wheel even though the car wasn’t moving. “KK, I’m driving. Can you not?”

Ice glanced at her and snorted. “First of all, you’re parked. Plus, the comments are saying you need to give your official take.”

Paige groaned, finally turning toward KK and taking the piece of cookie with an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine. Gimme.”

KK grinned victoriously and leaned forward, scrolling through the TikTok comments. “They’re saying the S’mores one is the best so far, but someone just called the Churro flavor a ‘sleeper hit.’ Thoughts?”

Paige chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “Okay, yeah, S’mores is cool, but I’m team Churro on this one.”

As Paige finished her sentence, KK’s eyes widened as she leaned toward Ice’s phone. “Azzi’s in the chat!”

Ice immediately perked up, glancing at her phone screen and smirking. “Azzi! Boo! Why didn’t you come with us?” she said, dragging out the words in mock disappointment.

“Lame,” KK added, her voice loud and dramatic. “BOOOOO!”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, you’re boring, Az. Can’t even show up for cookies?”

Kehlani stayed quiet in the backseat, but her eyes flicked toward Paige, noting the way her tone softened just slightly when she said Azzi’s name.

A moment later, a new comment popped up on the live. Azzi’s verification checkmark made her words stand out, and Ice read them out loud: “I’m not boring, Paige.”

Paige laughed, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer to Ice’s phone. “Sure you’re not. What’re you doing right now, then?”

KK nudged Ice whispering. “She really out here having a one-on-one convo like the rest of us don’t exist.”

Ice snorted, but Paige ignored them, waiting for Azzi’s next reply. It didn’t take long.

“Just laying down,” Azzi wrote in the chat.

Paige grinned, shaking her head. “See? BORING. What’d I say?”

Another comment quickly popped up: “I’m recovering from practice, Paige. Some of us are human and don’t have unlimited energy.”

“Excuses,” Paige shot back, laughing. “I think you just wanted to miss out on all the good cookies. KK, pass me the Snickerdoodle.”

KK handed Paige the cookie but pointed dramatically at the screen. “Azzi, if you’re seeing this, they’re roasting you in the comments, too. One of them just said, ‘Azzi’s too cool to eat cookies with them.”

Paige tilted her head, reading another comment that Azzi wrote. “I’m not too cool for cookies. But Paige never saves me any, so why bother?”

The live erupted in “oohs” from the chat, and Paige’s jaw dropped. “First of all, I always save you something.”

Azzi’s response popped up almost immediately. “Lies. Where’s my cookie, then?”

Paige rolled her eyes, smirking. “I’ll bring you a cookie later. You’re lucky I’m nice.”

“Only to me,” Azzi wrote.

Ice and KK exchanged a knowing look, both laughing under their breath. Ice leaned forward, resting her elbow on the center console. “Yo, she’s bold for that one.”

KK smirked. “I think they forget this isn’t a private conversation.”

Meanwhile, Kehlani had fully reclined in her seat, scrolling through her phone and making no attempt to engage.

Paige read the comment aloud, her smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “That’s ‘cause you are my favorite person, Az.” Her voice carried that teasing, flirty tone she didn’t bother hiding anymore.

The live chat immediately blew up:

“PAIGE WHAT?!”

“She really said it!”

“This is the content we needed!”

Azzi’s response came almost instantly. “Your favorite person? Then why am I at home while you’re out eating cookies without me?”

Paige laughed, breaking off a piece of the S’mores cookie. “This is for you, Azzi. See?” She held it up to Ice’s phone, angling the camera toward it. “Consider yourself taken care of now.”

KK leaned in dramatically, her mouth hovering near the cookie. “I’m about to eat this for her since she didn’t show up.”

Azzi’s reply was short and direct: “KK, touch it and see what happens.”

Ice practically wheezed, clutching her chest. “Not her threatening people in the live chat.”

Paige tilted her head at the camera, grinning as she scrolled to Azzi’s next message before responding out loud. “Then what do you call this?”

Azzi popped back into the chat: “It’s called keeping people in line for you. You’re welcome.”

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “See, that’s why you’re my favorite.” Her voice dipped slightly, playful but with an undertone that made KK and Ice share another quick glance.

Azzi replied almost immediately: “Say it louder for the people in the back.” The double not lost on Paige.

Paige leaned a little closer to the camera, her grin widening. “Azzi’s my favorite,” she said, dragging out the words in a teasing tone. “Happy now?”

KK threw her hands up. “Alright, we get it! Paige is Azzi’s biggest fan. Moving on…”

But Paige wasn’t done, and neither was Azzi. The next message from Azzi caught Paige off guard: “You should tell me how much you like me later. Maybe in detail.”

Paige’s eyes flicked down at the screen, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. “Oh, you want details now?” she said, leaning into the moment. “Like what? Should I write it all down for you?”

Ice and KK immediately burst into laughter, KK pointing at the screen. “Bro, Azzi’s got you blushing on live. This going to be everywhere.”

Paige ignored them, her attention locked on the next comment Azzi sent: “I don’t need it written down. You can just show me.”

Her breath hitched for a moment, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from fully smiling. “Az, we’re on live. Not FaceTime. Chill.”

The chat went into full chaos mode:

“SHOW HER WHAT???”

“Azzi please, we can’t take this!”

“Paige is GONE.”

KK was practically in tears now.

Paige groaned dramatically, finally tearing her eyes away from the screen. “Azzi, I swear. You’re banned from the next live. You’re worse than Ice.”

Azzi’s last comment appeared on the screen: “You love it.”

Paige chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, next cookie,” she announced, trying to change the subject. But her cheeks were still tinged pink, and the chat wasn’t letting it go anytime soon.

Paige chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, next cookie,” she announced, trying to change the subject. But her cheeks were still tinged pink, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Azzi popped back up in the chat: “You’re cute when you blush, P.”

Paige immediately groaned, her face heating up even more. “Azzi, pleaseee,” she said, unable to hide her smile as she glanced at the screen again.

The chat exploded with chaos:

“AZZI STOP, YOU’RE KILLING US.”

“Ole girl in the back is mad.”

“Just kiss already.”

Azzi wasn’t about to let up as another comment popped up. “Only if you come over later,” she wrote.

Paige shook her head, biting her lip to keep from smiling too much. “Azzi, you’re actually the worst,” she replied, but her tone betrayed how much she was enjoying it.

KK chimed in, pointing at the screen. “I don’t know if you're seeing it but they saying you’re on a leash, P boogers.”

Azzi replied: “You don’t seem to mind when I’m ‘the worst.’”

Paige blinked at the screen not even addressing KK, her laugh low. “Azzi…” she warned, but there was no real threat behind it.

Azzi replied back: “What? Just telling the truth. You like me this way.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, covering her face with one hand, fully laughing now. “You’re unbelievable,” she said through her laughter.

Ice, who had been watching this unfold with growing amusement, nudged Paige’s arm. ��You gotta fight back, you’re looking weak on live.”

Paige glanced at Ice, shaking her head, but her smile stayed. She turned back to the camera. “I’m not even entertaining her anymore,” she said, though her blushing cheeks said otherwise.

Azzi’s next message popped up: “Yeah, you will. Later.”

Paige pressed her lips together, struggling not to laugh again, but her blush deepened. Before she could respond, Kehlani, sitting quietly in the back, spoke up, her tone dry and serious. “Oh, why stop now? You might as well just FaceTime her at this point. We’re all here for the show anyway.”

The air in the car shifted. Ice and KK exchanged glances, but the laughter that had been flowing just moments ago came to a halt. Kehlani’s words hung in the air, her eyes fixed on her phone as she spoke.

Paige’s smile faltered slightly, sensing the tension in Kehlani’s voice. She quickly shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Kehlani, relax,” Paige said softly, but the underlying unease in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

Azzi’s final comment popped up in the chat: “Just don’t forget my cookie please.”

The chat exploded again, but the playful vibe was gone now. Paige let out a soft laugh at Azzi’s humor, her blush still lingering, but the mood had shifted. “Alright, new flavor, let’s go,” she announced loudly, trying to shift the focus as the car fell into a quieter tension.

…

When the live ended, Kehlani didn’t hold back. She leaned forward in her seat, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Paige through the rearview mirror. “So you’re just openly flirting with her now?”

Paige’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles white as she kept her eyes on the road. KK and Ice sat frozen in their seats struggling not to laugh knowing how this was going to end. Paige didn’t want to have this conversation—not here, not now, and definitely not with an audience.

Taking a steadying breath, Paige glanced at the mirror, careful not to meet Kehlani’s gaze. “We can talk about this when we get back,” she said calmly.

Kehlani scoffed, throwing herself back against the seat and crossing her arms tightly over her chest like a child. “Oh, it'll be a lot more yelling than fucking talking,” she muttered, her voice sharp.

Paige’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as she clenched her teeth. She didn’t take her eyes off the road but finally responded, her voice laced with warning. “What did I tell you about doing this in front of people?”

Kehlani let out a bitter laugh, her head tilting slightly as she gestured vaguely toward the car. “Oh, but you can flirt with Azzi in front of three thousand people, huh? That’s perfectly fine?”

Paige’s gaze snapped up to meet Kehlani’s through the rearview mirror, her expression hard. “Stop,” she said simply.

For a moment, Kehlani opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but the sharp look Paige gave her was enough to make her think twice. She pressed her lips together, the silence in the car growing even more as they continued the drive.

When they returned to campus, Paige immediately headed to her room, hoping to avoid any more conflict. Kehlani followed, slamming the door behind her as she stormed in. The tension between them was thick, the unspoken frustration that had been building for days now ready to spill over.

Kehlani didn't waste any time. “If you want to fuck her, just get it over with so you can get it out of your system,” she snapped, her voice filled with bitterness. Paige’s expression immediately hardened. She had been holding her tongue but had so much pent up frustration she didn’t care anymore.

Paige turned to face her, her eyes narrowing. “Watch your fucking mouth Kehlani,” she said, her voice low and full of warning.

Kehlani sneered, crossing her arms. “Oh, so you have a reaction now? I just have to say something about Azzi to get you to finally react, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not doing this with you.”

Kehlani scoffed, pacing in frustration. “You’re seriously just gonna keep playing it off? Like nothing’s happening between you two? How long do you think you can keep this up before it blows up in your face?”

Paige stayed leaned against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice was calm when she replied, “Look, I’ve been upfront with you from the beginning. If you want to walk away, do it. I’m not forcing you to stay. I told you from the start this was casual.”

Kehlani whipped around to face her, her tone sharp. “It’s not even casual anymore, Paige. At least back then we’d fuck or something after we argued!”

Paige let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Is that what this is about? We don’t fuck anymore?”

Kehlani's jaw tightened, her voice rising with indignation. “Do you even know when the last time we were together was?”

Paige shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by the question. “Nope. But I’m sure you're going to enlighten me.”

Kehlani stepped closer, her eyes flashing with irritation. “It was after the team went out drinking,” she snapped. “You and Azzi were all over each other all night because you were drunk. And you didn’t even care who saw.”

Paige raised her brows slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

Kehlani stepped closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration. “We argued about it when we got back, and you wanted to shut me up, so you fucked me. That’s the last time, Paige. Do you even care?”

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. “Lani, I don’t even know what you want me to say right now.”

Kehlani's voice sharpened. “Are you getting it from her now? Is that why?”

Paige let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m not fucking Azzi! Jesus Christ!”

Kehlani let out a bitter laugh. “Stop being a coward and admit you want to at least. Just say it.”

Paige froze for a moment, her patience finally snapping. She straightened up, her eyes locking with Kehlani’s. “Alright. Fine. I wanna fuck Azzi. Is that what you wanna hear?”

Kehlani blinked, momentarily stunned but unwilling to back down. “Say it again, Paige. Say it like you fucking mean it.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re fucking crashing right now bro.”

But Kehlani stood firm like she always does, crossing her arms. “No, Paige. Say it. Don’t half-ass it. I want to hear you say it.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over, and her voice rose as she snapped. “Yes, I want to fuck Azzi! I want to fuck her every time I look at her!”

Kehlani raised an eyebrow, unmoved. “Keep going.”

“What?” Paige snapped, incredulous.

“You’ve been a coward this whole time. You finally grew a spine—don’t stop now. Keep going. What else?” Kehlani’s voice dripped with venom.

Paige leaned forward, her voice escalating, almost shouting now as she spoke her mind but wanted to shut Kehlani up in the process. “I think about doing the nastiest shit you can imagine to her, okay? Is that what you’re deranged ass wanted to hear? Is that good enough for you now?”

Kehlani smirked, clapping her hands together slowly, the sound cutting through the tension. “Fucking finally. There it is. At least now we’re finally being honest.”

Paige glared at her. “Fuck you, Kehlani,” she spat.

Kehlani snorted, shaking her head as she turned toward the door. “Nah, Paige. You’re saving that for Azzi, right?”

Ironically, as the words left her mouth, the door swung open, and Azzi walked in, her eyebrows furrowing at the scene in front of her.

Kehlani chuckled darkly, shaking her head as if the situation was some cruel joke she was in on.

Azzi’s gaze bounced between the two of them, her tone cautious as she took in Paige’s demeanor. “Uh... should I go P?”

Paige’s entire demeanor shifted the second she saw Azzi, the hard edges of her anger softening, though her tension was still noticeable. “No, Az,” she said quietly, her voice noticeably softer. “It’s fine. We’re done.”

Kehlani scoffed, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Oh no we’re not done, but you should stay,” she said, gesturing to the room. “Come enjoy the show. Paige was just telling me all about how much she thinks about fucking you. Weren’t you, Paige?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Her expression tightened as she looked at Kehlani, but there was no shock in her eyes.

Paige didn’t say anything, her jaw tightening.

Kehlani wasn’t done, stepping closer, her arms crossed as her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What? Too shy to say it now? You weren’t shy five minutes ago. Go ahead, Paige. Tell her.”

Paige’s eyes darkened as her patience snapped. “Kehlani, shut the fuck up.”

Kehlani laughed coldly, tilting her head. “What, you can’t tell her? Can’t tell her how you were just talking about all the nasty shit you want to do to her? Go on, Paige. Please don’t stop now.”

Paige took a step forward, her voice low. “We’re done, Kehlani. Get the hell out.”

Kehlani stared at her for a moment, a cruel smirk tugging at her lips before she turned to Azzi. “Just a warning,” she said, her voice light but toxic. “She gets a little rough when she’s upset.”

With that, she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving an almost deafening silence in her wake.

Azzi stayed rooted in place, her eyes locked on Paige, who was visibly trying to hold herself together, her shoulders tense and her jaw clenched. Azzi’s brow furrowed in concern as she cautiously stepped closer. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Paige’s hand as if to ground her. “Paige,” she said gently, “Talk to me. What’s going on in your head right now?”

Paige took a deep breath, the sound shaky as she stared at the floor for a moment. Then she met Azzi’s gaze, her eyes were dark with a look Azzi hadn’t seen before. “Az, you need to leave,” Paige said, her voice low and rough. “If you don’t, I’m going to do something we’ll regret.”

It wasn’t a plea; it was a warning.

The air between them grew heavier, the tension almost suffocating. Paige’s frustration and anger were palpable—every argument with Kehlani, every unresolved feeling about Azzi, every ounce of sexual tension she’d been bottling up for weeks—it all felt like it was seconds away from exploding. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe.

But Azzi didn’t step back. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. “Do it then,” she said softly, her voice carrying a challenge she hadn’t fully thought through.

The second the words left her mouth, Azzi realized she should’ve thought about it a little more.

But Paige’s reaction was immediate, almost primal. Her hand shot up, wrapping firmly around Azzi’s neck as she pushed her back against the wall with a force that sent a picture frame rattling. Azzi gasped softly, her wide eyes searching Paige’s for a split second before Paige leaned in, her lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was rough, hungry, and completely consuming.

Azzi’s initial surprise melted into something deeper, her body responding instinctively as her hands grabbed at Paige’s waist, pulling her closer. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s neck tightened as she deepened the kiss, her desire building as she couldn’t get enough of Azzi. Each brush of their lips, each shift in their embrace sent a pulse of heat through Paige’s body. She was losing herself in the moment, in the touch, in the taste of Azzi.

The kiss wasn’t gentle or careful—it was unapologetically passionate. It was everything they had been holding back for years, all the longing, all the frustration, all the stolen moments finally manifesting. Azzi could feel Paige’s hunger, the intensity in every movement. She could feel Paige’s breath against her skin, could feel the heat in her hand as it gripped her neck, holding her in place with a possessive energy that sent shivers down Azzi’s spine.

Azzi’s hands squeezed Paige’s hips, urging her closer, pulling her against the heat of her body. She loved the way Paige’s fingers tightened around her neck, the way Paige’s body moved against hers with a sense of urgency, as though they were both starving. The aggression, the way Paige was pushing her into the wall—it felt exhilarating, freeing. Azzi had always known Paige had it in her, but now that it was happening, she could hardly believe it.

The world outside the room, outside this moment, ceased to exist. It was just them. Paige’s hand, warm and possessive around her neck, the way she kissed Azzi like she was afraid she might disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough—Azzi was completely intoxicated by it. She wanted more, needed more, and with every passing second she was reminded that this was everything they’d been denying for so long.

Paige’s breath hitched as she pulled Azzi’s hair roughly, exposing more of her neck. Azzi gasped at the feeling, a mix of surprise and excitement flashing in her eyes. Paige’s grip tightened on Azzi’s hair, pushing her head back more as she traced her lips down the sensitive skin of Azzi’s neck.

Paige's lips were messy, marking every inch of her neck. She could feel the heat radiating off Azzi’s body as she kissed her harder, deeper, moving against her with an intensity neither of them had expected for their first time. When she pulled back for a moment, her voice was rough, the question slipping out without a second thought.

“You aren’t cheating, right?” Paige asked.

Azzi nodded quickly, her hands grabbing at Paige’s, urging her back to her neck. “No," she whispered, "I’m not.”

Azzi’s words were barely heard before Paige tugged harder on her hair, guiding her back, her lips attacking Azzi’s neck again. Paige’s hands gripped Azzi’s body tighter, not letting go, as if marking every inch of her skin as her own.

Azzi melted into it, her body arching toward Paige’s, having craved the roughness for so long, the need that was building between them.

Before Azzi could even process what was happening, Paige’s hands were at the back of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. The strength in Paige’s grip made Azzi's heart race, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride that Paige’s athleticism was coming into play at the moment. She wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist instinctively, pulling her closer, the kiss deepening as Paige’s hands roamed over her butt with desperation.

Azzi could feel everything building, the need between them undeniable. Paige didn’t pause, didn't even hesitate, as she walked them over to the desk. Azzi’s breath hitched when she felt the edge of the desk press against the backs of her thighs, and Paige, without breaking the kiss, placed her gently yet firmly on top of it knocking a few things over as she did so.

Azzi gasped, her hands grabbing at Paige’s shoulders to steady herself. She didn’t know what was more exciting—the feeling of Paige’s body pressed against hers, the heat radiating between them, or the way she was being handled.

Paige pulled back slightly, her gaze dark, filled with an intensity Azzi had never witnessed before. Azzi was breathless, her body humming, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked up at Paige, waiting for whatever came next.

Paige’s eyes never left Azzi’s as she spoke. “Take off your shirt.”

There was something in the way Paige said it—something possessive and undeniably intense—that made Azzi swallow hard. She felt the weight of the command settle into her chest, her heart hammering in her ears as her breath caught.

Without hesitation, Azzi pulled her shirt over her head, feeling a shiver run through her as she caught Paige’s gaze, the hunger in her usual soft blue eyes making her pulse quicken. Azzi knew it was different now. This wasn’t the teasing, the slow build-up. This was something primal and she was willingly volunteering herself for it.

She let the fabric fall to the floor, her hands shaking slightly but not from fear—more from the anticipation. Every muscle in her body was tuned to Paige, waiting for her next move, her next command. In that moment, she didn’t want anything more than to be exactly what Paige wanted.

Paige's hands moved quickly, pulling Azzi's hips forward just enough so she could stand between her legs, their bodies barely apart but still aching for more.

Without warning, Paige grabbed Azzi by the neck, her grip firm, pulling her into another kiss that was desperate and unrestrained. The urgency in the kiss was undeniable, a silent plea for release as Paige's body pressed into Azzi's. Paige was fighting to control herself, to not be aggressive as she could be, but the tension inside her was too much-every muscle, every nerve, was on fire with the need to close the gap between them.

Her lips moved hungrily against Azzi's, breathing in the taste of her like it was the only thing that could calm the desperate ache inside. Paige's hands gripped Azzi's sides, her fingers digging in as if she might never let go, as if this moment was the only thing that mattered. Their breaths mingled, heavy and fast, as Paige pressed closer, her chest brushing against Azzi's, the heat between them only amplifying the intensity of the kiss.

Azzi's hands slid to the back of Paige's neck, pulling her deeper, her body arching toward Paige's.

Paige yanked Azzi's head back again, her grip tight as she started to assault Azzi’s neck again. The raw tension between them was undeniable. But then, Azzi let out a soft moan at the feeling, a sound that was so sudden, so unfiltered, that it stopped Paige in her tracks.

It wasn't just a sound. It was a plea, a release that vibrated through the space between them, and when it escaped Azzi's lips, it shattered Paige's control. The way it rang in the air, the desperate vulnerability in it. Paige's jaw tightened, her whole body going rigid.

She pulled back quickly, struggling to catch her breath. Paige clenched her jaw desperately trying to hold on to whatever semblance of self control she had left. But she was failing. Without a word, she turned away, her steps almost urgent as she walked toward the closet.

"Take everything off," Paige's voice was rough.

Paige reached into the closet, her fingers brushing over a few bags, before pulling out a sealed box that she began taking to plastic off of.

Azzi didn't hesitate. She undressed quickly, following Paige's command without a second thought. Every movement was fluid, driven by a mix of anticipation and the sharp heat that still pulsed between them.

As soon as she was bare, she walked over to the desk, sitting back on it, the cool surface pressing against her skin, contrasting with the heat radiating off of her.

She watched Paige intently, her eyes tracing every movement as Paige got completely undressed before stepping into a harness and adjusting it.

Paige's every action was deliberate, her fingers brushing against the fabric, pulling at it slowly to make sure everything was in place as her eyes raked over Azzi’s body as she did it.

Something about the sight has more pooling between Azzi’s legs. Paige is scarily calm right now which terrifies and excites Azzi at the same time.

As Paige walked toward Azzi slowly, her gaze never left brown eyes. When she reached her, she leaned in just enough to let her voice drop low. "You wanna feel me, Az?" Her words were a tease, full of promise, and the way they hung in the air made Azzi's heart skip.

Azzi nodded, almost too quickly, her throat suddenly dry. She didn't trust herself to speak—her body ached with a need for Paige and Paige only.

Paige's lips curved into a smile as she reached up, brushing her thumb across Azzi's lip. The touch was soft and gentle, yet somehow possessive, and without thinking, Azzi parted her lips and took it into her mouth.

She sucked it in slowly, her eyes never leaving Paige's as she swirled her tongue, feeling the heat of Paige's gaze searing her skin.

Paige watched her intently, savoring the sight, before sliding her thumb out of Azzi's mouth. She dragged it slowly down her jaw, the pads of her fingers tracing lightly across her skin before finally resting at Azzis center where she began to trace small agonizingly slow circles against Azzi.

Azzi's breath hitched, her jaw tightening as the circles only further deepened the ache in her stomach. Each movement, each second that passed, stretched the tension unbearably, the pressure building in her chest. The way Paige took her time, making every second feel like an eternity, had Azzi biting down on her lip to keep from reacting too loudly.

Paige's thumb circled lazily along Azzi's center, her touch soft. She was watching closely for every little reaction: the sharp, ragged inhale, the subtle tremor in Azzi's body, the way her lips would part as she tried to hold in the sounds threatening to slip out. Each moment, each subtle movement, felt like an eternity as she pieced together what Azzi loved like it was the easiest puzzle in the world.

Azzi's breath caught as Paige pushed against her a little harder, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily. Paige's eyes darkened as she saw the way Azzi tried to bite down harder, a silent battle the girl was having to remain quiet for some reason. Paige couldn't help but chuckle a little at this.

"You know it's not going to matter in a few minutes, right?" Paige's voice was calm as she said it, but there was a bit of an edge to it, a silent promise to Azzi that she wouldn’t be able to stay quiet even if she tried. Still, she continued her slow, torturous circles, watching for the breaking point.

Azzi opened her glossed over eyes, meeting Paige's gaze. Her voice was barely a whisper, but there was a challenge to it. "You like to hear it?"

Paige nodded, her breath shallow. "Of course." The simple words hung in the air, full of desire.

It was as if Azzi had been holding her breath, saving it for this exact moment. Not two seconds later, the sound escaped her lips-a soft, almost angelic moan. The sound was almost too beautiful for how quiet it was.

It was enough for Paige to not want to wait anymore wanting to hear so much more spill from Azzi’s lips.

So she swipes the top of the strap against Azzi a few times to make sure she’s ready for it before she’s pressing forward, sliding in halfway before pausing to make sure she’s ok and giving her some time to adjust.

“Oh fuck-“ Azzi immediately gasps at the feeling pulling Paige’s closer to her by her shoulders.

Leaning over her a little now Paige begins slowly rolling her hips careful not to go in all the way yet.

Paige mumbles against Azzi’s neck where she’s planting kisses and sucking on the already marked skin. “Does that feel good pretty?” As Paige says this her fingers tangle in Azzi’s hair tugging at it to expose more of her neck as she continues working in and out of her.

“Mhmm yes—feels…feels so fucking good. Oh fuck.” Azzi’s face twists slightly as Paige pushes all the way in hitting somewhere deep in her stomach.

Paige reaches down with her free hand to rub circles against Azzi again as she picks up the pace of her hips.

With every movement, Azzi whimpers. The breathy noises music to Paige’s ears, urging her on. Paige pushes Azzi’s legs further apart, eventually making her wrap her legs around her waist as the new position allows her to work deeper into Azzi.

Azzi who’s never felt anything like this whimpers out “Fuck yes…gimme more Paige…harder please baby” her moans getting louder as she grasps at the shelf behind her trying to find anything to anchor herself.

Paige immediately obliges to the request grabbing Azzi’s waist pulling her into her more as she works in and out of her at a faster pace.

Azzi smiles at this for a second before her jaw drops as she fights to keep her eyes locked on Paige.

Paige feels like she can come undone just by the look on Azzi’s face. The way her brown eyes are locked on Paige’s blue ones, struggling to keep her breath makes Paige fall in love with her all over again.

Paige moves herself closer to Azzi so she can whisper in her ear. “Mhm you so fucking pretty taking it like this baby...you like it when I fuck you like this Azzi?”

"Yes- fuck... Yes I love it so much—" Azzi’s arms wrap around Paige’s shoulders, her nails digging into her pale skin as the blonde moves into her at an unreasonable pace making her see stars.

Paige groans at the feeling of Azzi’s nails digging into her as she rests her forehead on her shoulder.

Azzi continues gasping, her breathing sharp as she tightens her hold on Paige anchoring herself to something real. Her chest rising and falling in quick succession, pulse hammering in her ears, drowning out everything but the feeling of Paige inside her.

"Shit…I've wanted this for so long," Azzi whispered, her voice trembling.

Paige pulled back from Azzi’s shoulder to rest their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled, hot and unsteady, as they locked eyes, both panting at Paige’s movements.

Paige's lips curled into a slow smile, her voice low and a little breathy, laced with a possessiveness that makes Azzi weak. "Tell me what you mean, baby."

Azzi's heart fluttered at the sound of Paige’s voice. Her entire body seemed to hum with the weight of the question. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering the fragments of herself, feeling her body continue to pulse at Paige who hasn’t slowed down for a second. Her hands move to Paige's face, fingers trembling as they cup her jaw, bringing her closer, as if she couldn't get enough of the warmth, of the weight of Paige's presence.

"I've wanted you to fuck me just like this," Azzi panted, the words spilling out in a rush. “Touched myself thinking about how you would feel.” Her grip tightened, nails gently grazing Paige's skin who has slowed her movements easing all of it in and out at a steady pace.

Paige's smile deepened as she looked at Azzi, her voice dripping with something almost dangerous, like she knew exactly what Azzi needed. "It's all mine, baby?" Her lips barely moved as she whispered them.

Azzi's breath hitched, her whole body answering the question before her words could as she felt something pool on the desk under her.

She nodded, forehead pressing against Paige's, her eyes rolling back as she gave in to the overwhelming flood of emotions.

"Use your words for me, baby," Paige murmured, a soft pressure against Azzi's jaw, urging her, coaxing the confession out.

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her throat, before she finally gave in to the truth of it all, letting it tumble out in a breathless confession. "It's yours, Paige. Fuck yes, it's all yours baby."

Azzi's hands are steady on Paige's face, her fingers tracing the soft line of her jaw. The heat radiating between them is undeniable now, but it's not just physical-it's everything they've been holding back. Azzi’s legs are still wrapped around Paige’s waist, their bodies pressed together, the only space between them the shared breaths that are only becoming more ragged.

The world outside them has faded completely. All that's left is the sound of their hearts racing, the intensity of their eyes locked in a silent battle. But Azzi can feel it. She can feel Paige's jaw tighten under her fingers, feel Paige's slight hesitation to speak.

"Say it, baby," Azzi breathes out, voice rough, pleading. The words hang between them, as she dares Paige to cross the line they've been dancing around for so long. The unspoken truth that neither has allowed themselves to fully acknowledge-until now.

Paige's jaw tightens more, her mind fighting against the pull of the confession. She knows, deep down, that once she says the words, there's no taking them back. No turning away from what it means. Her eyes search Azzi's, a mix of fear, longing, and something else-something so much deeper. Azzi's brown eyes are full of hope, desperation, and a promise.

Azzi leans in closer, her breath catching in her throat. "Please... Paige..." she whimpers, as though the words might shatter if she says them too loud. "Say it. Please. I need to hear it baby.”

For a heartbeat, Paige hesitates. But having Azzi like this completely bare for her taking everything she’s giving her makes something stir in Paige. The fear, the uncertainty, melts away. She licks her lips slowly, never breaking Azzi's gaze, and the words come out like a release, a truth finally allowed to breathe.

"I love you, Azzi," Paige whispers, keeping her voice low. "I fucking love you." Paige says again as she rolls her hips into Azzi perfectly. The words feel almost foreign on her tongue, but they taste right. They feel like everything she's been holding back for so long, all the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the touch that said more than words ever could.

Azzi's breath hitches, her eyes going wide not just from the feeling of Paige hitting deep inside of her but from hearing those words fall from her lips for the first time the combination of them both leaving her breathless.

She can barely hold back the rush of emotion that crashes over her. "I love you so fucking much, Paige," she murmurs, her voice breaking on the edge of the confession. It's everything she's wanted to say to Paige since they were teenagers.

Azzi's fingers trace Paige's face gently, her heart pounding as if it might burst from her chest. "I love you," she whispers again, this time, the words are like a devotion to Paige.

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi's, her lips just inches away, her breath mingling with Azzi's. She could lose herself in this moment forever. "I love you so much Azzi," she breathes, her voice full of everything she's kept locked away.

Paige can feel herself building at Azzi’s words, the weight of the moment, the way the harness was rubbing against her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this turned on before, she’s never felt this pull in her stomach from just fucking somebody else.

Before Paige embarrassingly comes undone before Azzi she’s pulling out completely causing Azzi to immediately whine at the feeling as she looks up at Paige with desperation.

Paige didn’t give Azzi a chance to say anything before she was lifting her off the desk.

Without missing a beat, Paige walks over and gently lays Azzi down on her back on the bed hovering over her as she locks eyes with her.

Paige whispers out. “Wanna feel all of you when you finish for me.”

Azzi hums at this, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at Paige. Her fingers threading through Paige’s messy hair.

Without saying anything Paige presses back inside of Azzi completely making her arch off of the bed letting out an almost pornographic sound. Paige leans down pressing sloppy kisses to Azzi’s chest leaving new marks further down as she starts rolling her hips into her again.

Azzi’s mouth falls open at the feeling, her body picking up right where it left off a few seconds ago. Paige’s eyes hold Azzi’s as she wraps her hand around her throat again squeezing just tight enough causing a whimper to fall from Azzi as she flutters her eyes closed at the way Paige is controlling the situation.

Not liking that she can’t see Azzi’s eyes anymore Paige whispers out “Look at me Azzi baby.”

Azzi's eyes immediately flutter open, the command in Paige's voice making her head spin. Her gaze locks onto Paige's, but her vision is hazy, her eyes watering at the spot Paige is hitting over and over.

Paige smiles, it’s a knowing grin, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to Azzi and she shakes her head as if to tell Azzi it's not time to break yet.

"No, not yet sweetheart," Paige murmurs, her fingers tightened against Azzi's throat like a warning.

Azzi's throat tightens as she tries to speak to break the tension, but her voice falters.

She shifts beneath Paige, her head trying to turn to the side, desperate for some escape from the intensity of the moment. But before she can move too far Paige tightens her hold to keep her in place.

"Don’t look away from me when i’m talking to you Azzi” Paige's voice is calm, but there's an edge to it now, making Azzi's breath hitch in her throat as she nods.

At this Paige takes her hand off of Azzi throat and moves it down to her stomach where she presses down slightly feeling every thrust.

Azzi immediately moans at the pressure as she locks her ankles around Paige’s back not allowing any room between them.

"Mm- fuck, Paige. I’m so close. Don’t stop…please, don't stop just like that." Words are just tumbling out of Azzi now as she wraps her arms around Paige’s shoulder holding her against her completely as Paige picks up her pace to something almost ruthless.

Azzi’s hand immediately tangles in her hair trying to pull Paige closer as she sucks on her pressure point.

Paige brings her hand up, carefully interlocking it with one of Azzi's that isn’t tangled in her hair, her breath warm against Azzi's neck as she mumbles, "I'm so close, baby." Azzi nods in response not able to form a words, her legs tightening around Paige's waist, pulling her even closer.

All that leaves Azzi’s lips are whimpers and moans as Paige moves into her. Paige keeps her pace until Azzi’s body starts to tremble under her and she feels the movements get a little harder as Azzi tightens.

“Ohmygodohmygod…fuck..fuck” Azzi screams her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair as she releases all over the sheets. Paige squeezes their interlaced hands as she keeps moving, still chasing her own release, mumbling out, “Hold on baby I’m right there.”

Despite her sensitivity Azzi presses her heels into Paige’s back pulling her closer and not long after Paige is groaning out a “oh shit..fuck Az..fuckfuck” before she’s slumping on top of Azzi.

The room is filled with the sound of their breathing, both of them lying there, skin still warm and sticky, bodies tangled together in the aftermath. For a moment, neither of them moved, as if both of them were trying to process the intensity of what had just happened. It was different, undeniably so. Different than any other time with anyone else. This wasn’t just physical.

After some time of laying there, Paige shifted slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s shoulder. “Imma pull out now, okay?” she murmured, her voice soft and low.

Azzi’s hands shot up to grab Paige’s shoulders, halting her immediately. Paige froze, lifting her head to meet Azzi’s gaze. There was something almost pleading in her eyes, a vulnerability Paige hadn’t seen before.

“Not yet,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Paige smiles as she gazes down at her. “Can you keep going?” she asked, her tone laced with both amusement and awe.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching as her hands slid down Paige’s back. “Yeah,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “I just... I don’t want this to end yet.”

Paige chuckled softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. “You’re something else, Az,” she said against her mouth, her voice warm.

Azzi smirked faintly, her hands curling into Paige’s skin. “Yeah, and you love it,” she shot back, though her voice trembled slightly when Paige adjusted her hips.

Paige didn’t deny it. Instead, she shifted, one of her hands trailing slowly down Azzi’s side. “Alright,” Paige murmured, her lips grazing Azzi’s jaw before trailing down to her neck again. “Guess I better make it worth your while.”

Azzi’s laugh turned into a quiet gasp as Paige started to move again, her hands gripping Azzi's hips as she eased her back into it. But then Azzi couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her, the sound muffled behind her hand. Paige paused slightly, raising a brow.

“What’s funny?” Paige asked, her voice low, breath still hot against Azzi’s neck.

Azzi shook her head, though the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “It’s just—” she laughed softly again, tilting her head back slightly to meet Paige’s curious eyes. “Your cross necklace. It’s just... dangling there. Right in my face.”

Paige looked down and noticed the small silver cross swaying between them. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “Yeah, that’s probably not the vibe right now,” she muttered.

Azzi smirked, clearly enjoying the irony. “It’s definitely a choice,” she teased, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers tightened against her skin.

“Alright,” Paige said, grinning as she moved her hand to Azzi’s chin, tilting her head slightly. “How about I fix that for you?”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige pulled out and flipped her over with an effortless motion, Azzi’s stomach now against the bed. Paige hovered over her, her cross now out of Azzi’s sight. Paige leaned down, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear. “Better?”

Azzi swallowed hard, her smirk faltering as Paige’s hand slid back to her waist. “Yeah,” she breathed, her voice suddenly softer. “Much better.”

Paige chuckled, her lips trailing slowly down Azzi’s jaw. “Good,” she murmured. “Now stop laughing and focus, Az.”

Azzi smiled faintly, but her next laugh dissolved into a sharp inhale as Paige reminded her exactly what kind of focus she meant.

…

Later that night, Paige and Azzi lay side by side, their shoulders brushing, hands intertwined as the quiet of the room settled around them. The adrenaline had long worn off, leaving them in a haze of warmth and exhaustion.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing over the back of Paige’s hand. “I need a shower,” she murmured, breaking the silence.

Paige’s eyes were half-closed, her voice barely above a mumble as she replied, “Same.”

Azzi turned her head slightly, glancing at Paige with a teasing smile. “You’re actually disgusting,” she joked.

Paige cracked one eye open, the corner of her mouth twitching into a lazy grin. “You loved it,” she fired back, her voice low and raspy but filled with clear amusement.

Azzi laughed again. “Unfortunately,” she said, shaking her head dramatically, “you might be right.”

Paige gave a low chuckle, squeezing Azzi’s hand gently. “Might be? C’mon, Az. Own it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I loved it. Happy?”

“Very,” Paige murmured, her voice already trailing off into something quieter as her head tilted toward Azzi’s.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable, the warmth of their connection lingering in the air. Paige stared up at the ceiling, her breathing finally even as her thumb absently traced circles against the back of Azzi’s hand.

“Wait,” Paige started, her voice soft but curious. “What happened to Kali?”

Azzi, who was half-drifting into sleep, let out a quiet laugh. “She was sitting next to me when you were on live,” she said simply, her tone amused.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced over at Azzi. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Azzi gave Paige’s hand another squeeze, her voice softer now, as though she didn’t want to disturb the moment too much. “So?” she asked, her words a quiet nudge, a question hanging between them.

Paige turned her head to look at her, her expression calm. “So,” she echoed, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “I love you, and you love me.” She paused, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “So… we’re going to do this?”

Azzi studied her for a beat, her own smile forming slowly but surely. She nodded, her gaze steady. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Paige��s lips curved fully now, her hand tightening slightly around Azzi’s. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Azzi’s smile grew wider at that, something soft and unspoken passing between them as she shifted a little closer, her shoulder brushing Paige’s. “Good,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

…

When Paige and Azzi finally mustered the energy to get up and head to the shower, they didn’t expect to be greeted by half the team. Unfortunately for them, the door opened just as KK, Aubrey, and Jana barged in, looking for snacks or whatever excuse they’d come up with to snoop once Paige and Azzi gave signs of life in the team group chat suspiciously at the same time.

The room fell silent for a split second before KK’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Girl, boo! Y’all were supposed to wait one more week!” she yelled, throwing her hands up like they had committed some unforgivable betrayal.

Meanwhile, Aubrey punched the air in celebration. “Let’s gooo! I told y’all!”

Paige groaned, scrubbing her hand down her face. “You bet on us?” she asked, her voice exasperated but not surprised.

Aubrey grinned, shameless. “Of course we did! Do you know how obvious y’all have been? And I knew I’d win..”

Jana, always the blunt one, crossed her arms and looked between Paige and Azzi. “Y’all are gross,” she said, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her words. “Like, really. You couldn’t wait even a little longer?”

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “Y’all done?”

Azzi, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her laughter at bay as she wrapped an arm around Paige’s waist. “Alright, out. We have a shower to get to, and unlike y’all, we don’t have bet debts to settle.”

KK smirked, raising a brow. “A shower, huh? Together?”

Paige pointed toward the door, her expression flat. “Goodbye, KK.”

Laughing, the group finally started to file out, with Aubrey grinning at Paige on her way out. “Congrats, by the way. About time y’all stopped torturing yourselves.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, Paige let out a long sigh, her head dropping to Azzi’s shoulder. “I swear, I’m not leaving this room for a week.”

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of Paige’s head. “It’s gonna take more than a week for all this to go away.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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solarmorrigan · 4 months ago

Text

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie-spooktober #this is one of my absolute favorites for this month #it wasn't at all what I'd planned on writing but I'm so pleased with it anyway it was so fun #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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seredelgi · 9 months ago

Text

Do they get jealous?/ AOT x fem!reader

featuring: Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Reiner Braun, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman

tw: kissing, possessive behavior, jealousy, implied/referenced sex, implied/referenced oral, fem!receiving

Does Eren? Oh yeah, and childishly so, too. You know it the second you turn around from the counter, you could just feel Eren’s eyes on you when the tall cute barista flashed you a charming smile as he handed you your drinks. So of course you’re met with your boyfriend's cold green gaze, waiting patiently for you to hand him the drink and sit beside him on the chair of the pub you’re at.

“ Were you having fun?” he utters, and you almost miss it amid the blasting music it’s playing in the background.

“ What?” you feign ignorance, prompting him to lean into your space, invading it with his fragrance as he whispers in your ear:

“ Does he know you’re mine?” a hand of his brushes down your bare back, covering it with goosebumps, and it rests at your hip, squeezing it tightly in his hold.

You roll your eyes and playfully retort “Well, he does now”

Armin does, but he would never tell. He masks it with concern and asks you casual questions. It’s honestly amusing, ‘cause you can sense it almost immediately by the way he sighs beforehand, and then exhales:

“So who’s that guy you were with? Was he bothering you?” he circles your shoulders and you walk beside him towards your apartment.

“ Who, Matt?” you laugh, immediately aware that he’s detected a menace of some sort “ He’s new at work and the boss asked me to let him shadow for a bit, he’s actually very funny”

As soon as he saddens you can’t take it, you have to clarify “And very gay, too”.

“ Oh” he suddenly reddens and squeezes you closer to him “ Well, thank God”

There’s no way around it, honestly. Jean is possessive. He has many great qualities: always treats you right, brings you flowers, takes you to the best restaurants, and loves to eat you out. But the man just can’t help it. To him, everyone is a menace. You often have to reassure him that it’s all in his head and that every man on the planet is certainly not out to take you away from him.

However, when they ogle you down the streets his temper gets a hold of him before you can, and you’ll find him spitting at them “ What’s up man? Wanna take a picture?”. It’s enough to scare them off, and it’s honestly hilarious.

Connie’s the type of man to take pride in the way other guys look at you. He basks contently in the knowledge that you’re his, and whoever wants to take a look certainly can, just as long as they keep their hands to themselves. It’s funny to him, and it brings a cheeky smile to his face whenever someone’s being very obvious while checking you out. That’s when he circles an arm of his around your shoulders and pulls you in, whispering on your lips.

“ Wanna give them a show?”

You nod enthusiastically, honestly simply eager to get unwanted attention off of you. As soon as that’s accomplished, you will restore your no-kissing in public ban, maybe.

Reiner is a confident man. Confident in everything but you, that is. It’s not like he doesn’t feel loved by you, let’s be clear, but he’s too afraid of losing you, and he won’t take any chance. He won’t let anyone else be in your mind that way, not even for a second.

So if a guy talks to you flirtily or makes an appreciative comment to you in his presence, you can rest assured that Reiner will take it in his hands to remind you just how good he can make you feel.

You have no time to rid yourself of heels or earrings that night, he will have you spread on his bed as soon as he wills it, and he will bury his face between your thighs before you can even begin to protest. By the time he starts to work his magic on you, he certainly won’t hear any more complaints.

Erwin gets jealous alright, but he just hates to admit it, and it’s honestly so entertaining. He won’t talk to you all night, giving you the silent treatment the whole ride back home. You’ve come to understand where his mind goes over the years, so you now don’t mind. You just sit back in your seat and enjoy the calm before the storm, because as soon as he’s got a hold of you he won’t let you go. He will address the issue shortly and then start his payback with his hand closed around your throat, with whispers of how much you’ll regret touching another man’s arm like that, because you know exactly what it does to him, because you love how he bends you over the kitchen counter and claims you back.

Levi’s not the type to get jealous, no. Worried, however, that he gets, and you do pity the men that have made the error of mistreating you over the years. He usually just sits back and watches amusingly whoever thirsts over you at the club, as you’re dancing and laughing it off with your friends. But as soon as so much as a hand dares to slap your ass, or even worse, if anyone tries to take hold of you, you merely have the time to try and wiggle away from them, before Levi’s hand comes to rest on their shoulder, and he doesn’t have to speak to let them know to piss off.

What names do they like being called in bed?

How do they take you?

What's their love language?

So what about the way they kiss you?

How do they take compliments, then?

What gets them going?

And what pet names do they use the most?

What about JJK men?

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solxamber · 2 months ago

Note

Octavinelle 4 comedy please!

Man vs Fish || Azul Ashengrotto

For the Holiday Event!! ; Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous", Genre: Comedy

You lean casually against the bar at the Monstro Lounge, giving Azul the kind of knowing look that screams, I know something you don’t want me to know. Azul, on the other hand, is fussing with some invoices, clearly trying to ignore your presence. He’s been like this all day—tense, distracted, and oddly defensive.

“Azul~,” you start, drawing out his name like you’re about to deliver the most earth-shattering news.

He stiffens. “What?”

“I know.”

Azul pauses mid-signature, slowly looking up at you like you’ve just accused him of a crime. “You... know what?”

You smirk. “I know you’re jealous.”

His quill drops. “Excuse me?”

You pat his shoulder in mock sympathy. “It’s okay, really. I mean, who wouldn’t be jealous of a goldfish?”

Azul blinks. “What.”

“You’ve been glaring at the fish tank all day,” you explain, jerking a thumb toward the shimmering tank in the corner of the lounge. Inside, a particularly lively goldfish swims in gleeful circles, its long fins trailing behind it like streamers. “You’ve been eyeing Mr. Glub-Glub like he owes you rent.”

Azul stares at you, utterly dumbfounded. “You think I’m jealous... of a goldfish.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel insecure. I mean, look at him! He’s the life of the party. Everyone stops to admire him. He’s got presence.”

Azul makes a strangled noise. “I—he’s a fish.”

You tap your chin thoughtfully. “A very charismatic fish.”

“I AM NOT JEALOUS OF A FISH!” Azul bursts out, slamming his hands on the bar. The sound echoes through the lounge, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. Jade, ever the opportunist, pokes his head out from the kitchen with a curious glint in his eye.

“Something the matter, Azul?” Jade asks, far too innocently.

“No!” Azul snaps, face already starting to flush.

You give Jade a solemn nod. “He’s jealous of Mr. Glub-Glub.”

“I AM NOT!” Azul sputters, practically tripping over himself. “I don’t—why would I be—he’s just a decorative fish!”

Jade hums thoughtfully. “He is rather elegant. Such graceful fins.”

“STOP HELPING!” Azul cries, burying his face in his hands.

You, now fully committed to this bit, lean closer to Azul, your voice soft and conspiratorial. “It’s okay to admit it, Azul. We all have someone—or something—we feel we can’t measure up to. You don’t have to hide your feelings.”

Azul groans, dragging his hands down his face. “You are impossible. Utterly impossible.”

You pat his back reassuringly. “And you’re jealous. It’s okay, buddy.”

Azul straightens up, adjusting his glasses with a newfound determination. “You know what? Fine. If I’m so ‘jealous,’ let’s settle this once and for all.”

You blink. “Settle what?”

“I’ll prove that I’m not jealous of that... goldfish,” he declares, striding purposefully toward the tank.

Jade, clearly enjoying the chaos, sidles up next to you. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

“No idea,” you admit, watching as Azul begins to... negotiate?

“Listen here, Mr. Glub-Glub,” Azul mutters, leaning down to glare at the fish. “You may think you’re popular now, but this is my lounge. I run this show. I bring the customers. You’re just... aquatic decor!”

The goldfish bobs cheerfully in the water, entirely unfazed.

You exchange a glance with Jade. “Yup. Definitely not jealous.”

Azul spins around, his cheeks blazing. “I’M NOT!”

You and Jade burst into laughter, and even Azul can’t keep the twitch of a smile off his face, though he quickly hides it behind a grumble.

As the laughter dies down, you sidle up to him and grin. “For the record, Azul, you’re way cooler than Mr. Glub-Glub. He could never rock a suit like you.”

Azul huffs, but the faint smile returns. “Well... obviously.”

“And for the record,” you add, patting his shoulder, “you’re still jealous.”

Azul groans. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love it.”

He says nothing, but the way he flushes says everything.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #azul #𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event

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mrshowlettsgarden · 3 months ago

Note

Prompt number 7 with Logan 🫢

─➭ a/n: ooo, this is a good pick! I also apologize for the week delay; work was kicking my ass. but thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy; this is a long one - kaya <3 (prompt list)

We're Just Friends? - Logan Howlett: the one when you realized it meant more to him that you assumed

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ prompt #7: "Why did you leave me like that back there?" "Because." "Because, what?" "Because your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends."

─➭ content warning: hurt/comfort, miscommunication, friends to lover's trope, suggestive in the end

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

It’s Charles' birthday party tonight that Jean and Storm decided to throw for him at the mansion. All the adults were to attend the black-tie shindig along with invited colleagues and so on.

You were excited to have something to dress up for and eat some fancy food unlike the brute man pouting as he leans against your bathroom door.

“I put on the suit that should be enough,” Logan sasses to you, “I ain’t putting on the damn bowtie.”

You roll your eyes as you put the cap back on your lipstick with an aggressive sigh, “Don’t be such a diva, Logan. Wear the bowtie.”

You get goosebumps seeing the dirtiest look he’s ever given to you through the mirror. You’re also fighting for your life to not break out into a fit of laughs. “The fuck did you call me?” he snaps.

You couldn’t hold the laugh any longer and it slips from your lips as the dirty look turns into a pout on his face. Ignoring his question, you walk towards him and grab the bowtie from his hand. Logan has to fight to keep a straight face as your pretty self, inches closer with another step. If he could, he’d pull you in by the waist and take your lipstick off with a kiss.

“It’s for one night. One night only,” you say with pleading eyes, “And women love a bowtie on a man so who knows who you might pull into your bed tonight,” you joke with a smile and wiggling eyebrows.

Logan’s jaw clenches at your words. The only woman he wants to pull tonight is you but he doesn’t think you’d like that, so he shakes the thought away even though it hurts to do so.

You on the other hand wanted to slap yourself in the face for saying that because you just hurt your own feelings. You really don’t want to see Logan and a woman - who isn’t you - clinging to his arm at the end of tonight. Maybe you said that as foreshadowing to help prepare you for the moment that will eventually happen. But you ignore the pang in your heart.

Logan scoffs aggressively as he takes the bowtie back from you and begins tying it himself while looking at the mirror, “Yeah, because that’s the goal I had for myself leading up to tonight,” he says sarcastically while you give him a look of smugness as you watch him finish the tie.

“You look good though,” you say with a small smile as you adjust the tie a little bit.

Logan looks back down to you with a tight-lipped smile. “You look good too, darlin,” he says back in a gentle tone.

And good is an understatement when it comes to you because you look so goddamn breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you before today and now he thinks his greatest battle is to not admire you in your dress tonight.

A black form-fitting dress is criminal to wear in front of him because this is his first time seeing the shape of your body and it makes him want to see more for his eyes only. Your heels give you extra height, but you still can’t reach up to him and he finds it endearing.

Why do you have to be so beautiful…

You see him in a daze as he looks at you and you almost think it’s longing. But that's just a wish you have. “Logan? Are you still there?’ you say with a wave to bring him back down to earth.

Logan smiles as he nods, “Where else would I be, huh?” he asks.

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

The party started hours ago and it’s still growing strong.

Everyone is laughing, mingling, and dancing the night away. You say it's almost peaceful seeing everyone letting loose from the stress that has been filling up their lives. Everyone, including yourself, needed this. Everyone except Logan.

Such a party pooper…

You walk up to him as he takes a swig of his drink. He looks up at you with a questioning look, expecting you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you get up once other than for a drink,” you say knowingly.

Logan sighs, “At least, I got up instead waving down one of the servers.”

You groan at his words before walking around the table and pulling him up by his arm. “At least be polite and make your rounds to everyone,” you complain, “Then you can sit back down.”

Logan almost laughs at your miserable attempt to get him out of the comfort of his seat. But to save you from the embarrassment of falling on your ass, he sighs and gets up. “Only if you stay with me. We’re both suffering together,” he says almost pridefully as he moves your hand to wrap around his arm.

Your face turns into a heater feeling his muscles along the expanse of his arms. You could only imagine how safe you’d feel having both arms wrapped around your body securely. At least you can bask in the moment a little longer before it gets taken away.

You stay on Logan’s arm as you both say your hellos and how are you’s. You can’t deny that it feels good to have him this close to you. And he can’t deny how comforting it is to be under your touch. He hasn't felt this relaxed in years. The more time he spends having you hold onto him like this only hurts him a lot more. Because the moment gets taken away every single time, he hears you say “we’re just friends” in nearly every conversation.

“Oh no! We just came here as friends!”

“You’re too funny! We’re just friends.”

And he swore he heard somebody comment about how he’s like a fucking brother to you??

Now that one really started to boil his blood.

Yes, you are friends. Best friends if anything but it will never hurt less to hear you say those three words. Those words are like that one annoying tune that is stuck on replay all night. Every person or group of people you both have gone up to have made comments or asked questions if you guys came to the party together. And just like the first time you were asked up till the last time, you were way too quick to shoot them down with “we're just friends”.

After all the last couple of years since he’s been around you hopelessly thinking you’d catch onto his longing stares, lingering touches, and being by your side during missions, he thought eventually you’ll get the hint. Tonight is showing him that you won’t ever reciprocate his feelings back. He’s been shot, stabbed and you can name the rest, but this emotional pain is burning at him from the inside and out. He’s starting not to be able to take your stinging words any longer.

Finally, all the rounds were made when you both made your way to Jean and Storm sitting at one of the tables. “I didn’t think you were actually able to get him out of that chair, Y/n,” Jean laughs.

“You made him into a social butterfly,” Storm snickers as Logan pulls out one of the chairs for you.

You giggle at their comments while Logan scoffed out a “whatever” and looked away from you three as he took a seat. He can feel his hurt turning to anger right now and he’s trying really hard not to show it. He gently removes your arm from his as he waves a server down for a drink. Sensing something is off you’re about to ask him if he’s okay, but Storm beats you from talking.

“You guys looked good out there though. Like a cute married couple,” she smiles as Jean nodded in agreement.

If only they and Logan knew how much you don’t oppose the idea of being married to him, but you could only laugh it off. That’s what you’ve been doing nearly all night as you and Logan made the rounds. You don’t think you’ve ever sounded like a broken record player having to repeat that you guys are purely platonic. You were just hoping that Logan wouldn’t start causing a scene when you heard him nearly growl every time you started talking. He seemed so tense too, more than usual but you thought it was because you were dragging him around to talk to people he wasn’t interested in.

Which is why you would turn down the comments about you and Logan dating because you didn’t think that he’d enjoy that type of conversation about you but boy, were you so wrong.

“Please, don’t make me repeat it again,” you playfully groan out with a laugh, “I don’t know how much I can take having to explain that I won’t ever see Logan that way-”

SLAM!!

You and the girls jump from the startling sound of Logan slamming his drink on the table then watch him storming off his chair and into the mansion. Stunned by his actions you look down at the glass and see that it had cracked from the force then look back at him walking away. You go after Logan without thinking, “I’ll go check on him,” you say as you speed off your chair in worried haste.

Where did that come from? And why is he walking away so fast? He’s already made it inside the house in less than thirty seconds. Your feet hurt enough already from the heels, but you caught up to him as he was about to make his way upstairs.

“Logan!” you call as you pick up your pace a little more, but he ignores you, “Ugh! Logan!”

“What?” he snapped at you with a venomous tone.

You nearly cower at his nasty attitude towards you. He’s never talked to you like that before and you begin to feel uneasy about being the target of his rage. "What’s wrong? Why did you leave like that?” you ask as you follow him up the stairs. You're only two steps behind him.

“Because.” he continues walking with bigger strides.

“Because??” you repeat. You’re starting to get irritated with his attitude, “Because, what? Logan would you please slow dow-”

“Because I can’t fucking stand that your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends!!” he yells as he turns around to give you his full rage.

You stood there frozen and stunned by his words and also at the fact that he yelled at you louder this time too. You feel yourself start to shrink from his voice. You couldn’t think to get a word in before he interrupted you once more.

“How much longer should I have to deal with the fact that you only see me as your friend and nothing more, Y/n! You’re walkin’ around telling people down there that I’m only your friend and you were just telling Storm and Jean that you won’t ever see me more than that!” he shouts at you with a face full of hurt and anger, “Why haven’t you realized that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you. Y/n!”

Your heart stopped for a second hearing him say that. There are too many whirlwinds of emotions going on right now. It’s hard for you to fully grasp the fact that he just confessed to you. Logan Howlett confessed to you. Looking at him you realize that maybe he’s also realizing that he confessed too with how his eyes widened.

You both stand there on the staircase in ear piercing silence as Logan pants from his rage. He rips his eyes off of you as he runs a hand down his face in stress. He looks so hurt right now. Your eyes are beginning to tear up from being the reason why he’s so hurt. But he needs to know that you feel the same way.

After a minute of silence and trying to find your words, you softly but hesitantly speak up. “Logan…,” you shakingly call his name as you step forward. You’re about to reach for his hand but he steps back away from you.

“No,” he interrupted you while shaking his head. He doesn’t want to hear your rejection right now. He’s so angry at himself for letting his feelings for you drag on for this long. And he confessed to you in a way he never imagined he would. “Just forget I said anything. I’m done.”

Done…?

With that he storms off again much faster than before up to his room. Leaving you behind to swallow his words more. He loves you. How could that be? You swore he felt the complete opposite after all this time. He said he was done too. Done with you?

While his words were finally settling in, you didn’t realize the tears had fallen down your cheeks. He loves you and then tells you he’s done. After all this time you thought he couldn’t see you that way, especially when he first arrived, he had a thing for Jean. But now, after his days of visiting you in the greenhouse, waiting for you in the hallway to get coffee in the mornings, and so much more… You’ve blind to his advancements. Even the way he talks to you is different from how he usually is and you didn’t realize that till he started yelling at you five minutes ago.

You let out a shaky sigh to stop the sobs from slipping.

God, you feel so stupid.

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It’s been a couple weeks since the party and the last time you saw, let alone talked to Logan.

You’ve never felt so lonely in the greenhouse by yourself and not having him there listening to you rant about whatever plant or lecture you need to get off your chest. You miss feeling his presence around you - the smell of his cigar, his teasing, his oddly comforting words that he held only for you… You miss him so much, but he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

The morning after the party you waited for him in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, but he never came. You tried knocking on his door a couple times after that when you wouldn’t see him but no answer. You knew he was in there counting from the energy you feel from the plant you jokingly gave him as a present, but you didn’t want to push him more. You also never failed to notice the way he would avoid you around the mansion. While the home was huge, you still saw him from a far and he’d walk away after your first glance in his direction.

So, you gave him what he wanted. Space.

And here you are sitting on one of the lounge chairs in the greenhouse at two in the morning. You couldn’t sleep or you haven’t been able to sleep without hearing Logan’s loud voice repeating his words in your head. The only thing that’s soothing you is the soft sound of the fountain that you’re sitting in front of. You stare at the lily pads floating in the water as you keep blinking back to that night Logan confessed. Would you call it a confession if he did it angrily? If he only would’ve stayed for thirty seconds longer, he would know that you love him too.

Logan was sitting in the kitchen nursing on a bottle of soda since the damn house doesn’t have any beer or form of alcohol. God, he could use several of them right now to get what happened out of his head. He let his hurt turn into anger when he yelled out his love for you. He’s never felt so embarrassed doing that especially after seeing the look of shock and hurt on your face too.

He just couldn’t stop the wave of emotions leaving his mouth in the form of words. He needed to get it off his chest after the number of times he was friend-zoned by you in one night. After he ditched you on the stairs to go into his room, he’ll admit that he felt a little lighter knowing that he finally told you how he feels but the weight came back when he started avoiding you.

With how hard you were trying to get him to talk to you it just made him feel worse. Yes, he’s choosing to avoid you, but it doesn’t hurt him any less. He’d do anything to talk to you again, but he thinks nothing will be the same anymore, hence the reason for avoiding you. Again, he’s also embarrassed for throwing a tantrum on the stairs as he angrily declared his love for you.

He still can’t believe he did that…

Logan frustratingly sighs as he chugs the rest of his drink as he gets up from his sitting. Maybe a walk will help. He needs to shake his feelings off and deal with the fact that he can’t come back from his confession.

He zips his jacket up from the chill of the night as he steps out into the backyard and begins his walk.

Nothing is heard other than silence as he furthers into the yard. He begins to get lost in thought as you come back into his mind. The way you looked scared from his rising voice to the sudden look of surprise when he said he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you despite the fact he hasn’t seen much of you the last two weeks. He misses you a lot.

“Damnit,” he mutters under his breath as he irritatedly kicks a pinecone out of his way.

Logan continues to walk with no destination until he suddenly stops in his tracks to see the lights on in the greenhouse. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he knows how late it is and he knows you’re in there by yourself. But why are you in there and how long have you been in there? He ponders for a bit as he stares at the warm lights illuminating the glass walls.

He stands there for a minute or two longer then makes his way to the double doors of the greenhouse. Usually when he or anyone walks up, you’d feel their presence and have the plants open the doors, but nothing happens. He looks around at the plants that surround the door to see if any of them move. But nothing, they’re still. He doesn’t sense any danger, but something is definitely off.

He opens the doors without thinking and walks inside to find you.

It’s eerily quiet inside as he walks around. He sniffs the air to smell for you and walks over to one of the fountains to where it leads to you. Your head is peeking out from the other side of the lounge chair, but you still haven't moved. He carefully walks around to find you curled up against the armrest sleeping. You look cozy and at peace if he wouldn’t have noticed the dry tear marks along your cheeks.

His face turns into a look of regret instantly. Avoiding you was just him hurting both of your feelings with no end goal behind it. He was beginning to feel stupid and childish about this whole ordeal. How he feels about you shouldn’t be the end of the bond that you guys already had with each other.

Besides tear marks, Logan also noticed the bags under your eyes as he kneeled down to be face to face with you. He sighs softly and brings the back of his hand to gently wipe the tear marks off your face. Your cheeks feel cold to the touch. You should be asleep in the comfort of your bed right now where it's warmer. So, Logan sucks up his feelings to wake you up.

The hand that was on your cheek moves down to your arm and starts to soothingly rub your arm up and down. “Y/n,” he whispers, “Wake up.”

You barely stir and it makes him want to laugh because you're such a heavy sleeper. So, he moves you a bit more and your eyebrows begin to furrow in irritation. For once you were sleeping somewhat well and you’re being woken up. You hear Logan’s voice, but you think it's just a dream until you hear him clearer the more you wake up.

“Logan?’ you murmured as your eyes began to open.

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me,” he whispers back to you, “Let's get you back to bed.”

You lock eyes with his soft gaze, and you’ve never felt more relieved to see and feel him this close to him. You sit up instantly, “Hi…” you say to him.

He smiles softly a stary strand of hair away from your face, “Hey… You shouldn’t be sleeping here alone, you know.”

You nodded as you rub the sleepiness away from your eyes as you look away from him. “I haven’t been able to sleep,” you said. Logan hums in response and silence settles for a moment between you two. You bite your bottom lip nervously as you start to think of what to say but you cower from the thought thinking that he won’t listen to you like before. You move your eyes to look at him, but you realize that he was still looking at you.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off of you since he found you asleep. It feels like he hasn’t seen you for months to almost a lifetime. If you only knew how much you have molded yourself into his mind since day one. He sees how nervous you are right now from the way you’re looking back at him. He’s about to apologize for his outburst but you beat him to it.

“I love you, Logan.”

Wait what?

A look of shock was thrown onto his face, but you interrupted him again. “I-If you would have stayed longer, I would’ve had the chance to say it back to you,” you stammer softly, “And I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings during the party. I swear, I-I thought that I was saving you from the conversations that I had dragged you to. I’m so sorry.”

You feel the tears fall again with how fast your eyes are building them up. You missed him too much and he needs to know this time that you've always felt the same way. You’re about to continue apologizing but Logan cups one of your cheeks with his warm hand. You feel his thumb wipe a tear and it makes you hold his hand with yours while you nuzzle your cheek further into his touch.

"I missed you, Logan...," you shakingly sigh out.

"I missed you too, darlin'"

Relieved tears fell while Logan came closer to rest his forehead against yours. You feel so comforted to have him this close again. You run your hand up his chest to lure him closer.

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs under your touch, “I was mad at myself and took it out on you. I didn’t mean to scare you either. I…I love you so much.”

You feel his lips brush so lightly against yours, it makes you pull away slightly to look back at him again. You don't think words can describe how much you need him impossibly close to you right now, it's making you needy for him. Your eyes move down to his lips then back up to his hazel ones.

“Kiss me, Lo-”

You didn’t have to finish the damn sentence because his lips met yours in an instant. Like hell he was going to walk away again now. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest as he pulls you closer to him with both of his arms around you to make you wrap your legs around his waist. Logan nearly groans, feeling you pressed against his body. The smell of the soft eucalyptus scent of your conditioner was making him dizzy but only made him crave for you more.

You feel him pull you toward him more before getting up from his kneeled position near fluently with you in his arms. You gasped out a laugh at his brute strength and he smirked smugly.

“Show off…,” you say blissfully.

Logan chuckles as goes back in for another kiss, “You’ll learn to love it, sweetheart.”

You smile as you shyly bite your lips hearing him call you that. You couldn’t help yourself and went in for another kiss. Your bodies heatedly pressed together as you cupped both sides of his cheeks making him part his lips just enough for you to slip your tongue inside his mouth. Logan didn’t stop himself from sinking into your embrace despite holding you in his arms.

You both lose your thoughts, getting lost into the comfort of the kiss. It felt so natural to have each other this close and it makes you wonder why it took so long for you both to get to this moment. And neither of you were planning on stopping it. You want more of him and he wants more of you. The ache you feel in your core is calling for more of his touch.

You force yourself to pull away and you feel him chase after your lips. “Fuck, baby. Why’da stop?’ you can hear how desperate he is for you right now and it and it makes you smile.

“Take me to bed Lo…,” you whisper against his lips, “I need to feel more of you.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice because he instantly tossed you over his shoulder making you squeal out a laugh.

“Let’s go then, pretty girl.”

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claramelooo · 2 months ago

Text

Okaay! I'm really hyperfocused in read Wanda fics! All writers inspired me with their own way to describe her personality, passionately. So, I written a prompt yesterday in a insomnia moment. If you like it, let me know please!

Warning: +18

Contains: manipulation, Mommy issues, Mommy kink, degradation, dirty talk, christian guilty, brat behavior, possessive and obsessive behavior, and more toxic stuffed for sure :)

Read here: Part 1 - Predator

Velvet Chains

Wylie, Texas. A small town where everyone knows each other, and Wanda is the epitome of perfection. Married, with children, and working as a librarian, she is a central figure in the local church and beloved by the neighborhood. With her sweet smiles and gentle eyes, no one suspects the secrets she hides behind her flawless facade.

Inside, Wanda feels an emptiness she can’t seem to fill. She has done everything right – married the proper man, had children, upheld the values of her community – yet something vital seems to be missing. What exactly, she doesn’t know… until the day she sees you for the first time.

You are the daughter of a neighborhood couple who has just returned from boarding school. With your shy demeanor mixed with a subtle rebelliousness, you catches Wanda’s attention during a church gathering. There’s something in your presence, the spark in your youthful eyes, that ignites a long-forgotten flame within Wanda. Youth. Freedom. Everything she has never truly experienced.

At first, Wanda tries to ignore her fascination. It’s just curiosity, isn’t it? But the way you move, your carefree and subtly provocative nature, begins to invade Wanda’s thoughts. Soon, she’s finding excuses to get closer – a visit to your parents, an invitation to help at the library, or even offering “motherly” advice during church meetings.

For you, Wanda’s presence is equally perplexing. There’s something magnetic about the older woman: a mix of maternal warmth and an intensity that’s almost unsettling. While Wanda seems to provide comfort, her words and lingering gazes carry a tension that makes your heart race. She feels things she has never felt before – and, without realizing it, starts to succumb to Wanda’s subtle control.

Wanda’s obsession grows. Every rebellious act by you – a bold remark, a deliberate tardiness – only draws her in further, awakening instincts she thought she had buried long ago. She wants to teach, correct, mold you. She wants to see you surrender, not just physically but emotionally.

And you, caught in a game of power she doesn’t fully understand, begins to yield. Wanda oscillates between tenderness and discipline, between praise and sharp words, wielding her authority to explore the darkest desires in both of them.

In a dynamic rife with psychological tension, discipline, and forbidden discoveries, you and Wanda tread a fine line between passion and ruin. How far can this game go before they’re both consumed by the flames they’ve ignited?

~*~

So?

#elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #mommy wanda #wanda x reader #mommy k1nk #mommy issues #wlw post #wlw #lgbtqia #lgbtq

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justabigassnerd · 6 months ago

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Harsh Words

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 8,707

Warnings - angst, fluff, running away, Tim is a bit of an ass, mentions of getting hurt, swearing, brief mention of guns, inaccurate police scenes, mentions of verbal abuse/threats, Kojo is once again the best boy

Summary - in a bad mood, Tim snaps at you, prompting you to run away and sending everyone into a panic

A/N - hey y'all it's once again time for a new request! this was sent in by @callsigns-haze so I hope I did your idea justice! I really enjoyed writing this fic (it's me I love angst what did you expect)? but I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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Tim had been through the wringer. He was convinced that no one else he knew had it as bad as he did right now. He’d broken up with Lucy and been kicked out of Metro. Just when Tim had thought life was finally going well for him, the rug got pulled out from underneath him and he felt like he was at rock bottom with no way to pull himself back up.

You, however, were completely ignorant of Tim’s foul mood and were cooking dinner for the both of you at home. You knew Tim had been working longer and later hours since he started working with Metro so you’d been taking it upon yourself to start cooking dinners most nights so that Tim had something to eat whenever he got home or could take any leftovers to work for lunch. You perked up slightly when you heard the door open but hearing the way it slammed afterwards made you flinch slightly, reminding you of the children's home you had spent years of your life in.

“Hey.” You say softly as Tim enters the kitchen, smiling shyly. Your gaze flicks over to Tim before focusing back on the meal you are cooking.

“Hey,” Tim replies gruffly, barely acknowledging you and only briefly petting Kojo who approaches him happily.

“Was work busy today?” You ask innocently, trying to keep the mood light. You didn’t know what it was that was bothering Tim but you had instantly picked up on his off mood that had been hanging over him for the past few days.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim grumbles, poking around in the fridge and various cupboards for stuff to eat.

“I’m making dinner. Do you want any? It’s almost done.” You offer, noticing Tim scavenging as if he wasn’t aware of the food you were cooking.

“No,” Tim says, taking you aback slightly at the sharpness of his tone.

“I’ll box up whatever’s left and you can have it for lunch or something if you want.” You say, beginning to plate up some food for yourself while Kojo whines at Tim's lack of attention, attempting to get in front of him to get the attention he usually gets from him.

“Kojo, get out of the way.” Tim scowls, using his foot to carefully move Kojo out of the way. He didn’t intend to hurt Kojo, but the dog’s persistence was beginning to get on his nerves.

“Is everything okay? Is something bothering you?” You ask innocently, worried about Tim with the way he was acting with everything around him.

“It’s none of your business. Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong. I can’t get a moment’s peace around here.” Tim snaps, eyes full of anger as he glares over at you, your eyes wide and lips parted slightly in shock. Tim had never spoken to you in such a way before and all it could do was remind you of the way people would talk to you in the children's home you were in. As the words replayed in your head and the smell of the dinner you cooked wafted under your nose, you felt your stomach turn, your appetite suddenly gone.

With your appetite now non-existent. You decided to quickly pack all the food you had cooked away, store it away for later and then clean up after yourself. You petted Kojo on your way out of the kitchen, feeling sorry for him after the way Tim had dismissed him and he followed you as you made your way to your room with Kojo hot on your heels, not wanting to face Tim. Who after you left the kitchen, had made his way to the living room. As you sat in your room, you thought more and more about the way Tim had talked to you, you began to feel more and more unsafe in what you had previously thought was the safest place in the world for you. As the unsettled feeling begins to seep in, you decide you need to just get out of the house as soon as possible so you grab your school bag and a duffle bag, scooping things into them before turning to Kojo who whines and lays his head in between his paws, seemingly sensing your intentions.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” You apologise to Kojo, petting him as you crouch down at his level. You wished you could take Kojo with you but you knew it wouldn’t be fair to Kojo to be dragged along with you. You knew Tim wasn’t upset with Kojo like he was with you. After zipping up the bags, you sling one over each shoulder and make your way to the kitchen to grab some food and put it in your bag before hearing the tv in the living room and making your way there with Kojo following behind you like a shadow.

“Hey, Tim. I’m going to Juliet’s house. We’ve got a project we need to work on and she invited me over.” You say quietly, trying not to distract Tim too much when you realise he was watching a football game. In his foul mood, Tim hadn’t even noticed that you had elected to call him by his name instead of calling him ‘Dad’ like you had grown accustomed to.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Tim mumbles, his eyes remaining fixed on the game and barely giving you a second of attention. At his dismissive tone, you nod and turn to head out of the house, apologising quietly to Kojo once more before exiting the house, and closing the door behind you. After you left, Kojo whined loudly, pawing at the door and pacing in front of it anxiously.

“Kojo shut it!” Tim scolds Kojo from the living room, making Kojo let out a longer defiant whine while lying down in front of the door watching carefully as if you would come back in if he waited long enough.

Meanwhile, you were making your way to the nearest bus stop, putting your headphones on as you blink back tears. You wait patiently for the bus to arrive and you climb on, pay for your ticket and take a seat at the back of the bus, curling into yourself and allowing your built-up tears to fall down your cheeks as the bus begins to pull away from the stop. You watch the world go by as you listen to music and as the bus drives past the bus stop closest to Juliet’s house, you pull your phone out of your hoodie pocket and hide your location from Tim as well as shutting your phone off completely. You knew it would’ve been wiser to have left your phone behind at the house but you liked the security of having it just in case something happened, even if you wanted nothing to do with Tim right now.

You rode the bus until the end of its route, getting off at the last stop and making your way along the familiar paths you used to take when things got too much for you at the children’s home. You follow the route that was burned into your memory, silently wishing you had brought Kojo along with you just for company. When the familiar run-down cabin comes into view, you’re reminded of all the times you had sought refuge there on particularly bad nights. The cabin was on the outskirts of the city, somewhere that you knew people wouldn’t think to look if anyone did think to look for you.

Not that anyone ever looked for you when you left.

As you enter the cabin, you’re hit by the chilly, damp air that had been festering in the cabin that had remained untouched for a while now. You make a beeline for the small mattress that lays on the floor, immediately pulling your blanket out of your bag and prepping a sad-looking bedspread. Once you made up some semblance of a bed, you grabbed a container of food you had packed and ate a little bit of the food, trying to save what you could. Once you had eaten, you pulled your hoodie off, bunching it up and turning it into a makeshift pillow before lying on the mattress, tugging the blanket around you tightly. The cabin was not built to keep the cold out and you had regretted not bringing anything warmer. As you curled up, more tears filled your eyes, spilling out from under your eyelids. You couldn’t believe Tim had flipped on you completely and you didn’t know what you had done to get that treatment from him. You also found yourself missing Kojo already. He always curled up with you on the bed and provided you with the companionship you needed in this moment. You continue to cry quietly until your exhaustion begins to get the better of you, making you slip into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Tim wakes up in a slightly better mood than he was last night. He was still annoyed and upset that he was back on patrol instead of working with Metro, but he figured that he should be grateful that he at least still had his job within the LAPD. As Tim gets ready to take Kojo on his morning walk, he finds his dog still lying by the front door, whimpering softly.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk.” Tim says, grabbing Kojo’s lead and clipping it onto his collar but Kojo remains in place, refusing to move.

“Kojo, you love your walks why are you acting like this?” Tim grumbles, tugging lightly on the lead to try and entice Kojo to get up. When Kojo remains in place, whining softly at Tim who lets out a strong sigh.

“Kojo, come on,” Tim says through gritted teeth, gently nudging Kojo with his foot and encouraging him up onto his feet and out of the door. Kojo trailed behind Tim dejectedly, clearly not enjoying the walk as much as he usually did. Taking in Kojo’s dampened mood, Tim decided to cut the walk short, heading back home when he had enough of Kojo’s constant tugging to go back home. When he got home, Kojo laid himself by the front door once more, continuing to whine softly.

“What has gotten into you?” Tim wonders out loud, glancing at his dog with a confused expression as he walks past, making his way to his room to shower and get ready to head to Mid-Wilshire. As he finishes getting ready for work, Tim goes to the kitchen to grab himself some coffee before leaving the house, petting Kojo on the way out before trying one last attempt to get Kojo to go and lie down somewhere more comfortable and when he’s met with resistance he gives up and makes his way out to his truck to head to work.

Upon arriving at Mid-Wilshire, Tim heads into the station, and nearly walks straight into Lucy, stopping in his tracks and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Good morning.” Tim greets her awkwardly with a curt nod, side-stepping around her and making his way to the locker room to get changed into his uniform. He knew things were awkward with Lucy. He had broken her heart by breaking up with her and also shattered his own in the process. He had loved Lucy so much and it wasn’t an easy choice for him in the slightest. He did it to protect her. Tim knew he was too broken to maintain a relationship with her and he knew that Lucy deserved better and she would find better. After changing into his uniform, Tim heads to the rec room ready for morning roll call. Grey soon steps into the room once everyone has gathered and begins the roll call. After everyone is dismissed, Tim is stopped by Grey before he has the chance to leave.

“Bradford. Doctor London is here and she’ll be joining you on a ride along for a psychological evaluation.” He says, already predicting Tim’s reaction before he has even finished his sentence.

“Are you serious?” Tim asks, looking at Grey like he’d grown a second head.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Grey asks, folding his arms across his chest as he raises an eyebrow, seemingly challenging Tim.

“No, sir,” Tim says, backing down and shaking his head.

“I thought I didn’t. This is required to tell us whether you’re fit for duty. Go and get it over with and we’ll take relevant action wherever we need to. You’re also riding with Thorsen today.” Grey says, gesturing towards the door with his head as Tim lets out a weak sigh, nodding his head and making his way out so he can go and talk to Doctor London much to his annoyance.

“Sergeant Bradford,” Aaron says, noticing Tim and waving him over as Tim rolls his eyes, approaching him and who he could only assume was Doctor London.

“You must be Doctor London,” Tim says, stopping in front of the two and eyeing up the woman who nodded nervously.

“I am, yes,” Blair says, offering her hand out for Tim to shake which he does.

“Officer Thorsen, go and grab the war bags. Doctor London, you can follow me to our shop.” Tim says, already wanting to get the day over and done with.

“You’re already very dismissive of this evaluation,” Blair notes, watching as Tim rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need this but I’m tolerating it for the sake of my career,” Tim says, glancing over at Blair and folding his arms across his chest, a protective gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Blair.

“I got the war bags,” Aaron announces, entering with the two large bags and shotguns, smiling oblivious to the tension between Blair and Tim.

“Good. Put them in the trunk.” Tim says, already beginning to open the door and getting behind the wheel while Aaron puts the bags away before getting into the passenger seat while Blair gets into the back seat.

By the time it had gotten to their lunch break, Tim was fed up with Blair and her attempts at delving into his psyche. They headed back to the station to head out to where the food trucks were so they could grab something to eat. As they get food, Tim notices Angela sitting eating and crosses to sit with her.

“If I hear one more theory about why I act the way I do I’ll actually go mad and need psychiatric help,” Tim says as he plants himself in the seat opposite Angela, noticing the slight laugh that escaped her.

“I’d pay to see that.” Angela jokes, continuing to eat as Tim rolls his eyes.

“Glad you take joy in my misery,” Tim grumbles, aggressively stabbing his fork into his food as Angela’s eyes widen slightly in shock at the aggression.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to poke at you. I know things are pretty rough right now.” Angela apologises, feeling bad about teasing Tim in a vulnerable time for him.

“It’s okay,” Tim says quietly, offering Angela a soft smile to try and reassure her that everything is okay.

“So, how’s y/n doing?” Angela asks, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a sip as Tim’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“What?” He asks, confused by the question at first.

“y/n? How is she doing?” Angela repeats, growing concerned by Tim’s reaction as the gears begin to turn in her head.

“Oh, I think she said she was going to a friend’s last night. Something like that.” Tim shrugs and continues to eat his food as Angela processes what he said and frowns.

“What did you do?” Angela asks, making Tim look at her, shocked.

“What? Why do you think I did something?” He says, anger seeping into his tone in his defensiveness but Angela wasn’t one to back down against Tim.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Angela says, enunciating each word as she leans forward slightly in challenge to Tim. The two share a silent staring contest for a moment before Tim lets out a huff and leans back against his chair.

“She just went to a friend's house. I think she said something about a school project.” Tim reiterates watching as Angela sighs in frustration.

“Tim. Can you confirm she’s there? It’s not like you to use the phrase ‘I think’ when it comes to y/n. Usually, you know where she is every second of every day.” Angela says, confused by Tim’s nonchalant attitude towards your wellbeing.

“Fine. If it makes you feel better. I’ll pull up her location now.” Tim says exasperatedly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the tracking app in his phone. As it opened, his eyebrows furrowed, and he flicked between looking at the map and the data bars in the corner.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asks, concerned by Tim’s reaction.

“Just give me a second.” Tim starts, refreshing the page and beginning to panic a little when your location doesn’t show up.

“Tim. What’s wrong?” Angela asks. Once again, Tim doesn’t give an answer, closing the app and opening his contacts, scrolling through the various phone numbers as he fights to recall which friend you had said you were spending the night at.

“Her phone must’ve died. I’ll call her friend’s mom.” Tim mutters, barely audible to Angela but she hears regardless and watches anxiously as Tim calls the number and lifts the phone to his ear, listening to each ring with bated breath.

“Hey, Tim.” Juliet’s mother, Eve greets as she picks up the phone.

“Hey, Eve. I just wanted to call and check on y/n. I think her phone must be dead or something because-”

“Sorry, hold on a second. y/n? She’s not here Tim.” Eve says, cutting Tim off.

“No, she told me last night that she and Juliet have a school project or something they needed to do.” Tim insists, wondering why Eve was telling him otherwise.

“Hold on, let me just grab Juliet and see if she’s spoken to y/n. But I promise you she’s not at our house, Tim.” Eve says hurriedly and Tim then hears her calling for Juliet to come to her so they can talk.

“Hey, Mom. What do you need?” Tim hears Juliet ask as she enters the room.

“Sweetie, have you heard anything from y/n today?” Eve asks, and all Tim can focus on at the moment is the silence that falls over the phone.

“No, we haven’t talked since we left school yesterday. Why, is everything okay?” Juliet says, worry seeping into her voice as the question her mother asked her begins to settle in her mind and alert her to the fact that something could be wrong.

“Tim…” Eve mutters into the phone, noticing the dead silence on the other end of the line.

“I have to go. Let me know if you hear anything from her.” Tim says quickly and apologetically before hanging up the call and looking at Angela who had watched the entire call with a worried expression.

“What happened?” Angela asks, concerned as Tim shoves his phone in his pocket.

“y/n didn’t go to her friend’s house last night and she hasn’t heard from her since they left school yesterday,” Tim says, already bracing himself for an angry rant from Angela but instead she grabs all her stuff and gets to her feet.

“Come on. We’re talking to Grey and we’re getting search parties going.” Angela says, gesturing for Tim to get up and follow her which he does, hurriedly grabbing his trash so he could throw it out before heading into the station with Angela who marches straight into Grey’s office.

“Sergeant Grey, we need to organise some search parties. y/n has gone missing.” Angela says, giving Grey no time to even ask why the two had barged into his office unannounced.

“What do you mean she’s gone missing?” Grey asks, concern creeping across his face when he registers what it is that has just been said to him.

“She left the house last night claiming she was going to a friend’s house but when I called her friend’s mom she told me that y/n never came over and that she and her friend hadn’t spoken since they left school yesterday,” Tim explains, once again trying the phone tracking app and fighting the urge to chuck his phone across the room when it once again comes up with no location.

“Did anything prompt this or do you think she was taken?” Grey asks, wanting to make sure he has all the facts straight before they start doing anything and Tim feels all eyes on him.

“I was an idiot. I was so upset about everything that happened with Metro and Lucy and I took it out on y/n. It’s my fault she’s gone.” Tim says, explaining what happened as the realisation sets in.

“We’ll find her. Do you know any places she’d go to other than her friend's houses?” Angela asks, approaching Tim and resting a hand on his shoulder to quietly reassure him.

“She never mentioned anywhere. She’d always come home if she felt unsafe or anything. Shit.” Tim starts, suddenly realising the weight of his actions and swearing quietly.

“What is it?” Grey asks.

“I made the one place she felt safe feel so unsafe that she left. I have no idea where she could’ve gone. She could get hurt or worse.” Tim says, the anxiety evident in his voice as he begins to pace nervously.

“Tim. Calm down. Look we’ll get officers looking for her. Here, send me a clear picture of y/n and we’ll send it to everyone patrolling so they know who they’re looking for.” Angela says, standing in front of Tim to stop his pacing. At Angela’s words, Tim nods, fumbling with his phone, his shaking hands fighting to remain steady as he finds a picture of you that would help officers recognise you if they saw you. Tim sends the picture to Angela who then forwards it to the appropriate people.

“Let’s get out on the streets and look for her. We’ll find her.” Grey says with a nod, getting up from his desk and gesturing for Tim and Angela to get out and start looking. But before Tim heads out to grab Aaron, he opens his texts and sends you a message, hoping by some miracle you’ll see it.

��Hey, kid. Where are you?’

‘I promise I’m not mad or upset. I’m worried about you. You can come home.’

Across LA, you were still hiding away in the cabin that had been home to you on those rough nights. As you sat on the mattress, you felt tears welling in your eyes as you thought about the night before. It reminded you of the one other time you had been fostered and how you had been so badly treated that you hid away in this cabin until you decided that going back to Stan’s children’s home was a better option. You remember the harsh words they had thrown in your direction, how nowhere was safe for you. You had never had a home before until you met Tim. Tim had taken you in and given you a safe place to call home. You had an adorable dog who you loved most in the whole world. But you were scared to go back. You knew you wouldn’t be welcome. You knew Tim probably wanted nothing to do with you after all your pestering. You couldn’t blame him if he wanted rid of you. You should’ve known he would get fed up with you and want you gone.

After a few minutes of sitting on the mattress and feeling sorry for yourself, you then decide to dig through your bag and find your wallet, looking at all the money you have and counting it quickly. You knew you couldn’t use your card to make any payments because the LAPD would clock it almost immediately and be able to track you down before you even had a chance to realise your mistake. After counting your money, you figure you have enough to buy more food if you need to and you have enough to get a bus out of LA. You weren’t quite ready to hop a bus and leave LA but you wanted to make sure you had the money in case you wanted to leave. You wanted to at the very least give yourself a day or two to really think about whether it was worth staying in LA or not. As you feel your stomach rumble slightly, you dig in your bag for some snacks to tide you over. You hadn’t brought a lot of food with you so you needed to make sure it lasted as long as possible. As you eat, you feel a surge of emotion rush over you and you put the food down, burying your face in your knees and sobbing into them.

You had never felt so alone and unwanted in your life.

Unbeknownst to you, Mid-Wilshire was in panic mode with the news that you were missing and everyone was looking for you. They had no idea where you could be so their plan was to cover as much ground as possible and hope they found you quickly.

“Tim, where are we going?” Aaron asks, questioning where Tim is driving to as they begin their search. Tim doesn’t reply, instead just stops outside his house and jumps out, heading into the house before Aaron even has a chance to process what was going on. As Tim unlocks the door and enters the house, he notices that Kojo is still in the place he was when Tim left in the morning.

“Oh, Kojo… I’m sorry, buddy.” Tim apologises, crouching down to pet his beloved dog, realising that Kojo was acting up because he knew something was up with you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are we just making a pit stop so you can pet your dog?” Aaron asks, appearing in the doorway and looking at Tim, confused.

“Are you-? no! There might be some clues as to where she is.” Tim says, straightening up and heading to your room. The movement somehow encourages Kojo to follow him. Aaron also takes the initiative to follow Tim and when they enter your room he elects to stay put, not touching a thing while Tim looks through your desk drawers, leafing through old school work for any sign that could point him towards your location. As Tim looks around, Kojo hops up on your bed, whining as he lies down and studies Tim’s movements carefully.

“She’s taken clothes, her wallet, basically everything someone needs if they’re trying to run away,” Tim says, his voice growing angrier with each word said. None of his anger was directed towards you, but rather at himself for pushing you to run away.

“Okay, so we know she intentionally left. Our next port of call would be to check bus stations right? If she wanted to get far she’d need to get a bus or an Uber or something.” Aaron points out, snapping Tim from his panicked state and grounding him enough to realise that Aaron was making a good point.

“You’re right. Call that in. Get people checking bus station cameras, whatever they can.” Tim says, making Aaron nod and step out of the room to radio about checking buses. As Aaron steps out of the room, Tim pets Kojo once more, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“You knew something was up with y/n, huh? You knew and I brushed you and her aside. I’m so sorry, buddy.” Tim apologises quietly, feeling guilty that he couldn’t open his eyes for more than a second the night before long enough to realise your intentions when you left the house. He wished he could go back in time and not have raised his voice at you. He took his anger out on you and you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Sensing Tim’s mood, Kojo shifted and rested his head on Tim’s lap offering a wordless comfort that Tim appreciated, but didn’t feel deserving of.

“Hey, I’ve called it in. We should head to the nearest bus station and check their CCTV and talk to any bus drivers if we can.” Aaron says, appearing in the doorway again.

“Yeah, just give me a second. You can go and wait out by the shop.” Tim says with a nod, waiting for Aaron to leave the room before he gently shifts Kojo off his lap.

“I’ll be back. Hopefully with y/n.” Tim whispers softly to the dog, petting him one last time before leaving the room and heading out to where Aaron is waiting outside.

“Come on, let’s go,” Aaron says, already beginning to get into the vehicle before Tim has even had a chance to lock the front door.

“I’m coming.” Tim says, locking the door quickly and hurrying to the shop and getting behind the drivers seat, starting the engine and beginning the drive to the bus station he knew was closest to his house.

When they arrive at the bus station, they were both quickly aware of the stares they were getting as they enter the station and making their way to the ticket booth to speak to the employee.

“Hello, officers. Can I help you?” The employee asks, glancing between the two of them and Tim could see the slight fear in their face as they spoke.

“I’m Officer Bradford, this is Officer Thorsen. We just have a few questions about something, is there someone we could speak to, and who could allow us to look through some security footage?” Tim asks, watching as the employee grows more nervous.

“Yes, I’ll grab my manager. Give me a minute.” They say quickly, scurrying off to go and find someone who could help them. As they wait, Tim looks at the various boards they have displayed in the station, showing the various buses and where they go to. As his eyes scan the board, he feels more fear swirling in his stomach making him feel nauseous as he reads city names he knew were far away. He had no clue if you had hopped a bus going to a different city or a different state and that thought alone terrified him.

“Officers? I’m James, the manager. We can head back to my office.” Tim and Aaron turn around to come face to face with the manager and they nod in tandem, following James back to his office.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Aaron says gratefully as they enter the small office, all three men sitting on the available chairs in the office.

“No need to thank me. What brings you here today?” James says, dismissively waving his hand before focusing on the two as Tim digs into his pocket, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it so he can show James the picture of you.

“Have you seen this girl? If she had come here it would’ve been last night. Probably sometime around eight or nine pm?” Tim asks, showing the photo to James who studies the picture closely, eyes squinting slightly as he takes note of every detail.

“It’s hard to say for sure. I mean we get so many people coming in and out of here I’m sure you can understand that it’s hard to confirm that. I was mostly working back here last night but we can check the security cameras? They’re not the best quality but it’s worth checking.” James says, frowning slightly and letting out a slightly irritated huff at himself when he doesn’t recognise you in the photo.

“It’s worth a look,” Aaron says, nodding as James motions for the two to come around his desk so they can look at his screen and what the security cameras had captured the night before.

“This is the camera angled at the ticket booth, assuming she bought a ticket here rather than online.” James muses, eyes scanning the various people appearing on the screen.

“I can’t see her. Shit.” Tim sighs, bowing his head in shame when skimming through the footage shows him nothing of use.

“Okay, we clearly need to look elsewhere. James, if it’s okay with you I’m going to put you in contact with someone who will want you to send over the footage so they can do a more thorough check. But thank you for being so cooperative.” Aaron says, digging in his pocket for his card, scribbling a contact down and handing the card to James before he and Tim head out of the office. Tim rushes by Aaron, getting into their shop as quickly as possible and the second he is in his seat he pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts you again.

‘y/n, please come home.’

‘Or tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you. It doesn’t matter where.’

‘If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine too. I can send someone else to get you instead.’

‘I’m just really worried about you. Please let me know you’re okay.’

Tim types and sends multiple messages, his mind reeling with worst-case scenarios about what could happen to you. While he knew you left the house intentionally to run away, he also knew that you could get hurt or worse and he’d have no idea where you were.

“Maybe we should head back to the station. See if anyone has found anything.” Aaron offers as he gets in the passenger seat and Tim’s head snaps to look at him, a furious look on his face.

“You’re telling me you want me to give up looking for my kid?” Tim asks, the anger evident in his voice as he glares at Aaron who almost shrinks back in his seat under the intensity of the glare.

“I’m not saying that. But someone might have some information so it’s worth checking at the station.” Aaron says, holding his hands up defensively and trying to calm the tension.

“Plus, you probably need a break. You’re stressing out and it won’t help you or y/n if you’re running yourself ragged right out of the gate.” He continues, watching as Tim lets out an irritated huff sitting back in the seat and moving to grab the wheel.

“Fine, but if anything comes in while we’re on our way back we’re going there,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive to the station. On their way back, no calls came in so they arrived at the station disappointed. Tim makes his way to the break room, grabbing some snacks and pouring himself a coffee, while his back is turned, he hears the door open and glances over his shoulder to see Lucy entering.

“I heard about y/n. I’m so sorry.” Lucy starts quietly, while Tim shakes his head, knowing he is unworthy of any sympathy from her. When Tim remains silent, Lucy takes a small step closer, making Tim turn to face her properly.

“I still may be mad at you for what’s happened but y/n isn’t a part of that and I feel awful that she’s missing. I’m going to do what I can to find her. I’d never wish for someone’s kid to go missing, no matter how much they upset me.” Lucy says softly as Tim looks away, trying to regain control of his emotions. It was hard enough for him to manage his feelings regarding everything that happened prior to you going missing. Now he not only had the extensive fear of never seeing you again but also the emotions of Lucy showing him any compassion after what he did sent him into a spiral and he didn’t know how to handle any of them.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Tim whispers, furiously blinking in hopes of keeping his tears at bay. In seeing Tim’s broken state Lucy glances over her shoulder, and when she sees no one nearby she steps closer, winding her arms around Tim and hugging him tightly. The embrace takes Tim aback at first, stiffening up at the sudden comfort before he hesitantly wraps his arms around her, ducking his head to rest it on her shoulder.

“Let it be known I’m still upset with you,” Lucy whispers, reiterating herself as she feels Tim nod against her shoulder.

“I know,” Tim replies quietly, knowing he didn’t deserve any kindness from Lucy at this moment but relishes the embrace while it is being held. After a few seconds, Lucy releases Tim from the embrace and looks up at him for a moment. The two held a stare for a brief moment before Lucy cleared her throat and looked away from him.

“I’m going to head out and see if I can find anything. I’ll let you know if I do. Take care of yourself.” Lucy says softly with a nod before backing away and exiting the break room, leaving Tim alone with tears in his eyes.

When Tim’s shift came to an end after a few more hours of searching, he didn’t want to leave and everyone knew it. He tried desperately to get Grey to let him work overtime but Grey shook his head.

“Bradford, you need to go home and rest. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re dead on your feet. The night shift will keep an eye out for her and listen out for any reports. The moment we find anything out you will be informed.” Grey says sternly, folding his arms across his chest and watching Tim carefully as he sighs.

“Fine.” Tim concedes, barely listening to Grey’s goodbye as he makes his way out to the locker room to get changed and head home. As Tim leaves the locker room, he is painfully aware of the pitiful gazes the other officers are giving him. He knew most of them had probably recognised who you were from the picture.

But Tim didn’t want their pity. He wanted to find you.

When he got home, Tim was positively miserable. He opened the door and couldn’t help but frown when he saw Kojo lying in the hallway, feeling even more guilty when Kojo approached him, sniffing at him before whining softly.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispers, reaching down to pet Kojo gently. After discarding his bag on the floor, Tim makes his way to the living room, collapsing on the sofa and burying his head in his hands as he sighs loudly. Tim felt awful about this whole situation. It was his fault you were gone. When he lifts his head, he decides to check his phone and see if you’ve replied. Instead, he just sees his messages and no proof you had read the messages.

That night, Tim could barely sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, aware of Kojo’s irritated huffs as Tim rolled over for the hundredth time. All he could see when he closed his eyes were images of you getting hurt. Every time he thought he was getting close to sleep he thought of a new scenario and he was wide awake in seconds a continuous loop that played out over the entire night.

When the next day of searching yielded no results, Tim was fully panicking going into the second full day of searching. He knew if more days passed without finding you, there’d be an even lesser chance of finding you. Everyone was walking on eggshells around Tim, he was more irritable, and he’d snap at anyone who asked him a question that neared too close to the topic of you. There was still no evidence that you were in LA yet there was no evidence you had left either. It was like you disappeared off the face of the earth entirely. When Tim left the house on the morning of the second full day of searching, he was hoping today would be the day someone would find you.

In your secluded cabin, you were running low on food so you had to make a choice. You needed to decide whether you would go into the city to buy food, or not risk it and just get out of the city entirely. When your stomach growled louder, you figured it would be best to go and grab some food from the nearest store you could find and then you could head back to the cabin and pack up to be ready to head to the nearest bus station to get out of LA.

After all, you were certain no one was looking for you.

You head out of the cabin, tugging on a hoodie as you leave and make your way down to the nearest corner store. You browse up and down the aisles, looking for various snacks that could last you a long journey and that weren’t too expensive so you could afford a ticket to whichever place looks most appealing to you when you get to the bus station. You end up grabbing a few of your favourite things that you knew would last you a long journey before you could buy more food. Once you’ve picked what you want, you approach the counter, smiling at the employee who scans your items and then gives you your total. You dig out the appropriate cash and hand it to the employee, thanking her as she hands you your items in a bag. As you leave the store, the employee grabs the phone by the register, immediately dialling the police.

Lucy was the first officer on the scene after the employee called in a sighting of you and was now currently standing in front of the employee, getting all the information she could.

“She came in and bought some food. Just snacks, chips, water, stuff like that.” The employee, named Molly explains, fiddling with her fingers.

“Did you see which way she went once she left?” Lucy asks, getting ready to make notes.

“Yeah, she exited and went that way,” Molly says, walking to the door and pointing in the direction you had walked.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Lucy says quickly, wanting to search the area as quickly as possible. She knew the LAPD hadn’t thought to look this far since most thought you’d be in the centre of the city or gone entirely. She and the other officers decided to spread out and search the area, making sure to instruct everyone to not tell Tim unless there was good news.

As Lucy patrols the area, searching for places you could potentially be hiding. She finds her gaze drifting to the woodland area just on the outskirts of the area. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the area, thinking of all the potential places you could be hiding in there.

“Hey, I’m going to check over there,” Lucy calls over to a nearby officer, pointing out where she’d be heading before beginning the short trek up to the area. She walks around, keeping an eye out for anything that could be a place for you to hide, one hand on her gun holster just in case she needs it. After about half an hour of searching, Lucy stumbles across a cabin and she figures it is the perfect place for someone to hide out if they don’t want to be found so she approaches the door, pounding on it and calling out.

“y/n, are you in there?”

“Lucy?” You whisper, barely audible as you stop shoving things into your bag. You debate remaining silent and hoping that Lucy doesn’t come in but after hearing Lucy’s voice, you realise how much you missed being around everyone. How much you missed your home. How much you missed Kojo. How much you missed Tim. Before you can get up and open the door, Lucy does it for you, entering and stopping in the doorway when she notices you.

“y/n…” Lucy starts, beginning to cross to you carefully, stopping just in front of you and crouching down to be at your level.

“Hey, Lucy.” You say weakly, attempting a small smile.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out the last couple of days, huh?” She muses lightly, looking around the small cabin as you nod.

“I used to come here a lot when things were rough before.” You say quietly, making Lucy frown slightly.

“Did something happen with you and Tim?” Lucy asks carefully, watching as you nod.

“He seemed off the last few days and when he came home… I don’t know maybe I annoyed him but he snapped. It reminded me of bad times and I just wanted to get out of there.” You admit quietly, tears springing to your eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure Tim didn’t mean to snap at you. I know he cares for you.” Lucy says softly, willing to put her own anger and upset towards Tim aside to mend your relationship with him.

“I know. But it really hurt at the time.” You say, sniffling slightly to try and keep your tears at bay.

“I can imagine. I won’t force you to talk to Tim straight away but we can get you back to the station, you can have a shower and change and I’ll get you something proper to eat. Does that sound good?” Lucy offers, smiling gently as you nod.

“That sounds good.” You reply, a single tear slipping down your cheek. At your response, Lucy helps you pack your things away, picking up your bags and escorting you down to her shop so she can get you to the station. Once she gets you inside, she grabs you a spare t-shirt and pair of sweatpants for you to change into as well as handing you a towel so you can shower. Just before you disappear for your shower, Lucy asks you what you’d like to eat so she can order it to arrive by the time you finish your shower. Once you’ve picked what you want, you go for your shower and Lucy steps out of the locker room, opening her texts and messaging Tim.

‘We’ve found y/n. She’s okay, I’ve brought her back to the station.’

The moment Tim receives the message, he perks up, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he finally relaxes. He was desperate to drive back to the station right then and there, but he was in the middle of watching Aaron giving a ticket to a driver they had pulled over for reckless driving. And as much as he wanted to jump in the shop and drive off, he knew he couldn’t leave Aaron behind. Tim waits impatiently for Aaron to finish the exchange, silently willing the exchange to go quicker so he can get back to the station and check on you. When Aaron had finally finished giving the ticket out and sending the driver on their way, Tim was crossing to the shop as quickly as possible.

“Thorsen, come on we need to get going,” Tim says quickly, waving Aaron over.

“What’s up?” Aaron asks as the two get into the shop.

“Lucy found y/n. She’s at the station.” Tim says, already beginning to drive back to the station. Tim was fairly sure he was nearly breaking several road laws on his way back but all he wanted to do was get to the station. When they finally made it back to the station, Tim barely turned the engine off and pulled the keys out before leaping out of the shop and rushing into the building, quickly locating Lucy.

“Where is she?” Tim asks hurriedly, barely able to focus on anything.

“She’s in the break room. Tim, she told me what happened, take it easy on her.” Lucy urges softly, looking up at Tim.

“I will. Thank you for finding her. I owe you big time.” Tim says gratefully, knowing Lucy probably wanted nothing to do with him after this but he wanted to make sure she knew he owed her. After Lucy nodded in acknowledgement, Tim moved around her and made his way to the break room where you were sitting, picking at the food in front of you as you looked up to see Tim.

“Hi…” You whisper quietly, struggling to maintain eye contact with Tim as he softens, crossing to the chair opposite you and sitting in it.

“Hey, kid,” Tim says, studying your expression carefully as you tear up.

“I’m sorry.” You say, wiping at your eyes harshly.

“No, I’m sorry. I took my anger out on you the other night and you didn’t deserve it.” Tim says, stopping you and taking the chance to apologise himself.

“I didn’t tell you about this before but I’ve been fostered once before. I was about seven when it happened but the people were assholes. They constantly shouted at me and threatened me. When you snapped at me it just reminded me of them.” You explain, too afraid to watch Tim’s reaction as you explain yourself.

“y/n. I’m so sorry I reminded you of them. I never wanted to remind you of anything like that. I wanted to provide you with a safe home and I took that away from you.” Tim apologises, feeling guilt sinking in his stomach as he realises how much he hurt you with what he did.

“But I’m sorry for scaring you. I saw your messages just before you got back. I hurt you too.” You apologise, frowning as Tim shakes his head.

“I deserved it. You didn’t.” Tim insists, and while you knew you could bicker back and forth with him about who hurt who more, you were exhausted.

“Can we go home?” You ask, watching as Tim nods, already standing up from his seat and packing your food away so you can eat it at home.

“Of course we can. Come on, I know a certain someone has missed you the most.” Tim says as you pick up your bags following Tim to his truck and getting in so Tim can take you home. The moment Tim parked the truck, you got out and made your way into the house, smiling widely when you saw Kojo who perked up upon seeing you, leaping up from where he was lying on the floor and practically leaping up at you as you crouch to his level, pushing you onto your back and smothering you in kisses.

“I’ve missed you so much, Kojo.” You say, giggling as Kojo continues to lie all over you, whining happily as he continues to lick at your face.

“Kojo, come on buddy, let her breathe,” Tim says with a laugh, his words making Kojo back off slightly, sitting alongside you as you sit up, petting Kojo as he pants happily. When you get up, you decide to put your bags back in your room, putting your clothes and blanket in the washing machine to wash them before heading into the living room and curling up on the sofa while Kojo and Tim join you. Kojo curled up under your arm, snuggling close to you as Tim put the tv on.

“It’s good to have you home, kid,” Tim says softly, smiling over at you as you smile back.

“It’s good to be home.” You admit, petting Kojo as you focus on the tv, the drama of the last few days seemingly a thing of the past.

Being with Tim and Kojo was where you belonged. They were your family and you wouldn’t trade them for anything. You knew Tim had problems when it came to opening up about anything, but you had learnt not to push so hard this time, and maybe one day he’d find someone to open up to about it so he’d feel less alone. But for now, you were just going to enjoy the afternoon with your loved ones. Grateful to be home.

Tim Tags (comment or ask to be added):

@starlightandsouls @whirlwind2005 @callsigns-haze @fore45fore @reignsboy19 @xi1dius @plutotcles @lives-in-midgard @mystical-258 @malindacath

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #unexpected bond universe #the rookie #the rookie abc #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x teen!reader #x teen!reader

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tojisun · 1 year ago

Text

“shopping for your brother?”

you trip at hearing the question, your lips parting in surprise as you whip to look at the clerk. she blinks at you amidst her own shock before turning her eyes down to your hands where a faux fatigued boonie dangled between your pinched fingers.

you watch as she glances back at you before shooting a look towards simon, having seen the two of you walk in together. he’s standing on the far side of the shop, attracting electric looks from everyone – you couldn’t even blame them because even your mouth is watering at the sight that he makes.

still, the insinuation that you couldn’t possibly be simon’s partner stung. forgotten insecurities are rising once again, rippling against the quiet elation that once filled you up.

“um,” you begin, clearing your throat at hearing your voice brokenly taper off. “it’s for, uh, my boyfriend.”

the clerk stares at you for a second before her cheeks fill up with red, the blush descending from her forehead to her neck.

“bloody hell,” she utters. “i’m so sorry.” she scurries away after that, disappearing into their storage room where you think she’s going to stay until you and simon leave.

and you’re willing to do just that. you drop the boonie and walk towards simon, trying to ignore the bitterness that is stinging in the back of your throat. simon uncrosses his arms – tattoos and muscles obscured by the expanse of paper bags that he insisted he pay and carry for you – and holds his hand out for you to take. you look at it, hesitating, before you shake your head and walk out on your own.

you can’t hear him follow you but you know he is there, quiet in his assessment of both the surroundings and of what happened to make you upset. you blink the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, trying to hide your distress as much as you can.

but it is futile because the next thing you know, simon’s pulling you away from the busy stretch of the mall and into an obscured exit point with dim lights and narrow halls. he drops the bags onto the floor before tugging on your wrists with firm gentleness.

“what happened?” his voice is gruff but worry is evident in his tone.

“it’s nothing,” you say, sniffing. “just tired.”

he hums, and you know that he doesn’t believe you. you sigh, turning away from him as you mutter, “i dunno why you like me.” you chew on your words, hoping he wouldn’t understand. but you feel him stiffen before you, his back tensing like he is preparing for a fight.

you know he is angry – not at you. never at you. and seeing his protective nature spark up just at the mere mention of your insecurity makes your lips wobble, your eyes blurring as tears pool once again.

you hear him let out a sharp curse before he’s pulling you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and engulfing you in his arms. he’s so big and all muscles, but he’s so, so warm. you nuzzle your cheek on his chest, letting out a content sigh when you feel his lips press on the top of your head.

“you know that i love you, don’t you, sweetheart?” simon asks, thinly-veiled desperation curling at his words.

you nod, shy all of sudden. he clicks his tongue.

“use y’r words, love.”

you peer up at him, your pouty lips quivering into a small smile at meeting his intense gaze, his beautiful eyes tracking the details of your face like he can’t get enough of you.

you see simon’s reverence and feel your heart melt.

“yeah,” you finally reply, swiping your tongue on your chapped lips and feeling your cheeks warm up at the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. “i know it well, si.”

he grunts before he is bending forward to press his lips over yours, your eyes fluttering close to savour the kiss. he is gentle as he guides you through it, prompting you to part your lips just enough for him to deepen the kiss – tongues swiping against each other and soft moans being engulfed by both of you.

you are panting by the time he pulls away, his eyes dilated in pleasure. you wonder if you look just as debauched, just as desperate for more.

“wanna take this somewhere else?” simon murmurs, just the sound of his grave voice already making you tremble.

you scramble to say yes, your words lilting together in your excitement. simon chuckles and presses a quick kiss on your lips before he’s picking up the shopping bags and herding the two of you out.

#suns.f #a little soft drabble bc well im pining and projecting and i cant even lie that im in luv w this man #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #suns

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angeliicheartt · 6 months ago

Note

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

um hi elle!! asking tenya ida “will you ever kiss me?” or smth to that effect ! fkfjdjdjcmb 🩵🩵🩵

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ!

includes: tenya iida

fem!reader

note: 1.1k wc, fluff with a touch of angst (in the beginning), wingmen denki and toko, mentions of kamijiro & kacchako, hope u enjoy!

you watch as the sun sets over the UA dorms, casting the world in a golden glow. you sat with tenya on one of the benches lining the path from the dorms to the main school building. the two of you sat in a comfortable but tension charged silence. you could feel each time he adjusted his position, slowly getting closer to you. you felt your pinkie tips brush against one another, the contact making you flinch before relaxing again.

your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes flickering to tenya’s face. his eyes are already trained on you, his cheeks flushed and lips parted. your body angles toward tenya, your nails digging into the concrete bench holding the two of you. was this it? was he finally gonna kiss you?

tenya clears his throat, his head ducking as his gaze locks onto the dirt floor below your feet. he pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had slid down before standing up, offering you a hand, “we should head inside.”

your eyebrows furrow up at him, your lips parted as you think of what to say. this is how’d it been for weeks, you knew tenya wanted to take things slow, and you did too, but not this slow. you easily stand up on your own, ignoring tenya’s hand, a look of dismay crossing his face.

“will you ever kiss me?” you posed, your arms moving to hug yourself as tenya sputters.

“y/n—” he hesitated, his arms twitching at his sides, wanting to comfort you, but you wanted to take things slow. the problem was tenya waited for you to make moves, not wanting to rush or pressure you.

“listen, I’ll see you in class, just.. get your thoughts together.” you say, walking past tenya into the 1A dorm building. you gave a simple greeting to everyone before getting a dish of dinner and sitting beside mina on the couch.

“you just get back from hanging out with iida? how was itttt?” mina drags out, giddy over the class couple. you sigh, beginning to dig into the dinner your classmates prepared.

“well when he first asked me out he told me he wanted to take things slow, and i totally get it! i’m the same way.. but it’s been weeks and all we’ve done is held hands, twice.” you rant, your voice hushed as to not attract everyone’s attention. mina listens attentively as she eats, nodding along to your words.

“well—” she cuts herself off, finishing her bite and swallowing before continuing, “i think you’ve gotta talk to him about it, he’ll never know for sure otherwise,” she advised, leading you to sigh before nodding.

“i know.. i’ll do it tomorrow, when we’ve both got clear heads, y’know?” you stand up from the couch, padding over to the sink to rinse your dish. you bid an early goodnight to everyone before heading to your dorm.

unbeknownst to you, your rant travels from mina to jiro, and from jiro to denki and tokoyami. the two boys, denki dragging tokoyami along approach tenya, the boy looking up at them confused.

“yes? what is it, kaminari?” he asks the blonde, a tense smile on his face.

“we’ve gotta talk,” denki says, grabbing tenya’s arm and attempting to pull him away. tenya stands up, placing his dish on the counter to come back to. denki sighs in relief as he now guides both tenya and tokoyami to the first floor hallway, devoid of any listening ears, besides jiro maybe.

“listen, bud, we know you and y/n are struggling right now,” the blonde starts off, placing his hand 'soothingly' on tenya’s shoulder. tenya’s eyebrows furrow at the boy, grasping his wrist and placing his hand back at his side, “we’re what?”

tokoyami shakes his head, nudging kaminari’s shoulder with his own, “kaminari doesn’t mean that. we’ve heard that you two got into a small altercation in your relationship.” the dark haired boy starts off, “we’re here to assist you in clearing it up.”

tenya’s eyes widen slightly, his face flushing at the mention of your guys’ relationship. denki grins at the boy’s reaction resting his elbow on tokoyami’s shoulder he leans forward, pointing a finger gun at tenya.

“so spill them juicy secrets, glasses boy!” the blonde urges, flashing a pearly grin. tenya sighs, disheartened by having the electric boy help fix his relationship. he takes his glasses off, massaging the bridge of his nose briefly before replacing his glasses once again.

“we were outside, just sitting on one of the benches and when i suggested we go inside, she asked ‘will you ever kiss me,’ and then walked inside. i was waiting for her to initiate anything because she said she also wanted to take our relationship slow.” tenya vents to the two boys, tokoyami nodding in tandem with tenya’s words and denki staring blankly as he listens.

“well—”

“obviously she wants you to kiss her, and usually girls want guys to make the first move, tenya buddy. i know you’re just being a gentleman and all, but trust me, girls like it when the guy initiates it.” denki insights, clueless to his violet-haired girlfriend’s rolling eyes as she listens in.

“best course of action would probably be to kiss her tomorrow, as soon as you see her,” denki advises as Tenya’s gaze flickers from the blonde to the dark haired boy, who only nods in agreement.

tenya goes back to the kitchen, cleaning up as if in a trance. he collected all the dishes from everyone, washing each of them in silence as he contemplated how he should approach you. eventually he retires to his dorm room, rolling restlessly in the early hours of the night before finally passing out.

the next morning, you and mina are heading to the school building, walking side by side before you hear your name get called, you turn your head watching as tenya speeds over to you. you hear mina yelp as she’s pulled away by kaminari, but before you can respond to that tenya’s less than a foot away from you, his hand cupping your cheek, his own cheeks flushed.

“yes?” you ask timidly, feeling your cheeks heat at the notion.

“may i kiss you?” he murmurs, his nose already brushing yours as you nod. you feel his slightly chapped lips melt against yours, your hand moving to wrap around his neck before you hear a familiar voice.

“IT'S EIGHT IN THE GODDAMN MORNING, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE FOUR EYES SWAPPING SPIT!” bakugo yells from a few feet behind you two, causing the two of you to part. you look past tenya to see bakugo with ochako on his arm, grumbling as she berates him for ruining the moment. you chuckle softly before turning back to tenya, planting a gentle peck on his lips before taking his hand in yours, “thank you,”

“my pleasure,” he says softly as the two of you continue to walk, now ready to start the day.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @miyamoratsumuu @comicxzzsalt @goobzi @sviidoll @sunolls @sepptember

#ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴏɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱʟᴀɴᴅ..!#🐬 “ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!”#🤍 .. elle writes!#tenya iida #iida tenya #tenya iida x reader #iida tenya x reader #tenya x reader #iida x reader #mha iida #mha tenya #bnha iida #bnha tenya #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader

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cjlouwho · 5 months ago

Note

prompt: buck gets hurt at a scene due to gerrard. tommy is working ground ops and becomes livid with gerrard. maybe someone has to pull tommy off of him! anyway, buck ends up finding it hot.

“In one word, how would you describe Tommy?”

“Uh... cool.”

“Firefighter Buckley! E- Evan! Evan! Do you copy?!” His heart was racing. He could feel it pounding in his ears.

He didn't wait long for a response. Didn't go back for his helmet or his oxygen. He just ran. He ran past the rest of the 118, who yelled at him to wait. He tore loose of the grasp that Eddie had on him for a brief second. He ignored the way his eyes started to burn before he even got in the building. He gasped and choked against the dryness in his throat as soon as he was inside.

He only had to take a few steps in when he was stopped by a caved in ceiling that blocked any path. That didn't matter anyway, because somewhere underneath the ceiling was Evan.

Evan, who shouldn't have been in the building anyway.

Evan, who had yelled over the radio that he could hear the structure beginning to collapse.

Evan, who cut out before he could finish relaying the information because the ceiling fell on top of him.

He was under there somewhere.

And Tommy was going to dig him out or die trying.

He wasn't alone. He knew that. He could hear familiar voices around him. They were yelling, calling out to Buck, tossing away debris. Tommy knew they were trying to help, but it wasn't fast enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough!

“Evan!” He screamed over the sounds of the creaking building all around him. His throat felt like it was on fire.

He didn't care.

“Evan! Evan, where are you?! Make a sound!”

What about you? One word to describe Tommy.”

“Hm... I'll go with stoic.”

He could hear a different voice over the radio. The voice of a man he hated.

“118, evacuate immediately! You're disobeying a direct order!”

He was the reason they were having to dig for Evan right now. The building had been evacuated. All personnel had been accounted for. Except Gerrard decided he didn't agree with the head count. He didn't believe that everyone had gotten out. Swore he saw movement inside.

It didn't take much to convince Buck. If he thought someone was still in danger, he was going to go back in and rescue them.

It's what any of them would have done.

But Buck had been Gerrard's target.

There wasn't anyone else in the building. A part of Tommy wondered if Gerrard had actually seen anything at all.

No one else knew that Buck had gone back in at the time. They were all busy tending to the wounded or working on stabilizing the fire. It wasn't until his voice came over the radio that they learned he was inside. And then the roof came crashing down.

“I repeat, get your asses out now! We'll begin a recovery mission when the fire is completely out.”

Recovery... not rescue.

Tommy ripped the radio off of him and slung it across the room. It didn't matter that the others still had their radios on. That Gerrard's voice was still echoing through the smoke-filled space. It wasn't right in his ear anymore, so he could concentrate on what mattered.

He continued digging so vigorously that he was gasping and panting for breath. He could hear the wheezing escaping him. His muscles ached and sweat dripped into his eyes.

He kept going anyway. Nothing would stop him.

“Your turn.”

“These games are hard.”

“They're not games, they're personality tests. I wanna see how right we are. Now, one word. Tommy. Go.”

“Ugh! Fine. He's adaptable.”

Tommy tossed more and more pieces of rubble away until he hit something that was not part of the roof.

It was a shoe.

Or a boot, to be more accurate.

Evan.

“Evan!” he yelled. “Hey, I- I got something! Over here! Help!” He continued digging to get to Evan as the rest of the 118 came over to help.

“Come on, Evan. Move! We've got you, we've got you.”

Evan didn't move.

He didn't move when they got the last of the debris off of him.

Didn't move when they pulled off his helmet and mask to check for a pulse.

Didn't move when Chimney looked over at Hen and shook his head.

“We've gotta get him out of here!” Chimney yelled. Before they could get into position to lift him together, Tommy was reaching under his knees and arms, hoisting him up and carrying his lifeless body out of the building.

He ran until he made it outside, then carefully laid Evan on the ground and began chest compressions. He wasn't sure how quickly he moved, but it took a few seconds for the group to catch up to him. “Come on, Evan!” Tommy yelled as he counted. “Come on, Baby! Breathe, Evan! Breathe!”

He felt hands on his shoulders, someone- Chimney, he thinks- was telling him to stop. To let them take over.

He kept going.

“Breathe, Baby, just breathe!”

“Now you.”

“I'd say calm under pressure.”

“That is not one word.”

“Okay, so one word for calm under pressure then.”

“Composed?”

“That'll do.”

“You know, calm works too, guys.”

“Please, Evan!”

Suddenly, arms were wrapping around him, pulling him off of Evan before he could try to fight back or protest.

He jerked away from the hold, twisting to see it was Eddie. “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled.

“They've got it, Tommy,” he replied, his own voice shaking with worry. “Let them handle it.”

He turned back around to see Chimney and Hen working on Evan. They had already torn his shirt and had him ready to be shocked.

Tommy moved beside him, kneeled down and got as close as he could without touching him. “Evan, you gotta breathe. Please, just breathe.”

As soon as he was shocked, the monitor came to life. “I got a pulse!” Chimney exclaimed. “Let's get him ready for transport.”

Tommy thought that would be the moment his own breath would come back to him. He thought that's when he'd feel joy and relief.

He didn't.

As they got Evan ready to go to the hospital, Tommy's gaze drifted up.

Right to Gerrard.

He could feel his blood boiling. A rage like he'd never felt before seeping through every pore in his body. He didn't listen as Eddie came up beside him, telling him he needed to go to the hospital and get checked out too.

He breezed right past him. His pace quickened the closer he got to Gerrard. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the man, and his arm was going back, then making direct contact with Gerrard's nose. “You son of a bitch!” Tommy yelled as Gerrard stumbled backwards. He brought both hands to his face, blood seeping out between his fingers.

Tommy didn't care. He took another step and grabbed onto Gerrard's turnouts. “You sent him in to die!” he shouted as he shoved him against a firetruck.

“I'll have your job, Kinard!”

“You won't get the chance.” The words came out in a growl. It wasn't a threat, but a promise. He didn't care what happened to him in that moment, as long as Gerrard could never hurt another person again. His arm went back, but this time he had people grabbing onto him and pushing him away.

“He's not worth it, Man!” Eddie yelled. Holding his arms out between Gerrard and Tommy to keep them apart. “He's not worth it. Go be with Buck.” Eddie pointed back to the ambulance, which was seconds away from leaving for the hospital. “Go!” he demanded.

“If something happens to him,” Tommy warned, staring Gerrard down, “I will kill you.”

“Tommy!” Eddie yelled. “Go!”

With a final glare, Tommy turned, running for the ambulance.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“One word. How would you describe me?”

“One word isn't enough.”

“It's all you've got.”

“Then... Loving. No! Caring. No! Affectionate. Wait-”

“Evan.”

“This is hard!”

“Gotta pick one, Babe.”

“Fine. I think, loyal. Yeah, that's a good one. You're loyal.”

There were two very uneasy days in the hospital before Buck woke up.

Tommy wasn't there when it happened. He'd been at the hospital for forty hours straight when Maddie demanded he go home, shower, and eat something before he came back.

He had just stepped out of the shower when he got a text from Maddie saying he was awake and alert.

He'd never gotten dressed so fast in his life.

His hair was still a mess of wet curls when he raced back into the hospital. It wasn't until he walked into the room and saw that Evan was sitting up with a pudding cup in hand that he finally felt okay again.

“Hi,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing.

Evan smiled at him, setting the pudding cup on the tray table. “Hi yourself.”

Tommy didn't notice Maddie in the room. Didn't realize Eddie was there either. He simply walked over to Evan and sat beside him on the bed, cupping his face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate pudding.

It was wonderful.

“We're, uh, we're gonna give you two a minute,” Maddie said, getting up from her chair. She and Eddie snuck out before Tommy pulled back from the kiss.

“I was so worried about you.” Tommy's eyes wandered over Evan's body. A fear that something else might be wrong. Something the doctors didn't notice while Evan was unconscious. “How are you feeling? I wanted to be here when you woke up but your sister made me leave.”

Evan took Tommy's hand in his, holding on tight. “I'm okay, Tommy. I promise. Maddie, um, she told me she had to basically force you out of here.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “She threatened to have me committed if I didn't go home.”

Evan lifted his free hand and ran it through Tommy's hair. “I've never seen you leave the house with your curls before.”

Tommy shrugged. “You're more important.”

Buck couldn't help the blush that rose on his cheeks. “I- I heard, um, from Eddie that you... you defended my honor at the scene.”

Tommy shook his head. “You don't need anyone to defend your honor, Evan. I did go a little crazy though.”

“But you won't lose your job, right?”

“Got two week's paid suspension, and I have to go to anger management, but I think Gerrard is the one at risk of losing it all. Apparently I had a lot of people backing me up. Him, not so much.”

Evan nodded. “Good. Now kiss me again.”

Tommy smiled, his face scrunching up tight as he leaned in for another kiss. It was more chaste than the last, but filled with just as much love.

“Can I tell you something?” Buck asked in a near whisper once they had parted.

“Of course.”

“When Eddie was telling me what you did, I- I...” He broke eye contact, pursing his lips as he fiddled with the sheet draped over his waist. “I thought it was really hot.”

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy placed his fingers under Evan's chin, lifting his head until their eyes met. “I'm sure someone got it on video,” he said, eyes going dark. “Could probably get you a copy.”

Evan took a deep breath. He knew his heart rate monitor had to be going crazy right now. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, grabbing onto Tommy's shirt and dragging him in for another kiss.

Tommy stopped as his lips ghosted over Evan's. “I love you more.”

“You've gotta pick one for yourself now.”

“Oh God. Sarcastic.”

“Uh-uh. Won't accept it.”

“What?! You can't deny my word for me!”

“I can and I will. Say something positive.”

“Sarcastic can be positive. It won you over.”

“Tommy.”

They were quite for a moment, then Evan glanced up from his paper to see Tommy watching him closely.

“Why are you staring like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're in love with me.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Ugh! Tommy, pick a word.”

“Okay, fine. Um, Protective. I'm very protective.”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #not sure i totally love this one #but it is what it is #prompt

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mandosaur · 1 month ago

Text

Morningstar (The Salesman / Reader)

Fandom: Squid Game

Pairing: The Salesman / Reader

Summary: Extreme graphic content warning. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Read at your own risk.

“My friends and I are about to play a game. One you know well, darling,” he explains. He uses the gun to push a strand of his hair back innocently.

The gun prompts your memory. You feel your hands begin to shake.

Russian roulette.

Of course. He is terribly fond of this one. You’ve played with him on a few occasions, and it doesn’t get easier. Each time he makes you play it with him, you feel the familiar squeeze in your chest of panic.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” your benefactor turns back to the men, “And one. I’m sure you’ve all heard of it, yes? Little star, will you demonstrate?”

Female reader is present during the first Russian Roulette scene.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, canon character death, explicit sexual content, gun play / gun violence, and gore. Dead dove; do not eat.

Word Count: 7,794

Estimated Reading Time: 28:20

At this point, it’s not much of a surprise just how low your threshold for what is normal and abnormal has fallen. Your walls have been forcibly brought down. What might have scared you years ago has become something mundane. You don’t even blink as you enter your apartment to find two people tied up and gagged.

The sound of the door opening makes everyone snap their heads towards you. You hesitate at the entrance, eyes taking in the scene before you.

Two men are tied up in your living room. One is young and covered in a sheen of sweat. He screams as he sees you and looks desperate. He seems to mouth, “Help,” over and over through the gag in his mouth. His hands reach out for you as if pleading with you to do something.

The second man sits opposite of him. He’s older, gruff, and his eyes are full of alarm. He moves his hands like he wants you to back off and he mouths at you to run. It seems he wants you to save yourself from whatever threat is in the room with them.

A low chuckle sounds from somewhere in the back of the room. Your attention is drawn to the man you missed upon your first entry. Understating floods you as he steps into the low light of the room.

“Ah, little star,” comes a cheery, bright voice, “you’re home early.”

In the low light of the living room, you can make him out. Your benefactor. He’s standing in his business suit in the middle of the two restrained men. He holds something up in his hand that glints in the lighting and sends a low shiver down your spine.

A gun.

You close the front door quickly behind you and latch it. A breath hitches in your throat and you drop your coat and bag by the hallway. You hope your neighbors haven’t seen anything yet because you’re not sure how you can explain this one.

The two men make a noise. The youngest is frantic, muffled words and pleas getting lost along the rubber gag, meanwhile his companion is straining against the rope that binds him trying to find a way out. You ignore the way the sight of them makes your stomach heave and instead focus on your benefactor.

He’s turned to you now with the gun still aimed at the ceiling. His smile is wide, too many white teeth, and his eyes have something glinting within their depths. You know that look well. He wears it every time he’s about to play one of his games.

You’ve known this man for years now. You met him when you were just a university student in your second year barely scraping by. He had met you on the subway and his too wide smile had shown razor sharp when he had offered you a red and blue piece of paper.

You’re not surprised at whatever scene you have just walked in on. Heaven knows he’s shown you worse.

“Friends of yours?” Your voice cracks on the last word and you awkwardly hang by the hallway unsure whether to approach or leave.

This happens sometimes. You’re not sure what shady business your benefactor is involved in, but sometimes it follows him home. You’ve grown used to him ordering you to leave when his friends in red show up or when a car pulls up front waiting silently for him to enter. Whenever that happens, he usually orders you to leave your apartment for a few hours until he sends you an all clear message. You’re not sure if your presence has inconvenienced him somehow, and, quite frankly, you don’t really want to know. Despite the way this man has twisted your perceptions of right from wrong, you aren’t too keen to watch whatever is about to happen with these men.

Your benefactor beckons you over with a single tilt of his head. He turns back to the men with a flourish. His voice is still bright, loud, and clear. He takes your interruption in stride as if it was insignificant.

“Come, little star, join me,” he orders.

Silently, you do.

The men grow quiet at the sight of you slotting yourself next to your benefactor. The youngest one sobs and squeezes his eyes shut at the realization that you are with him. The hope of escape evaporates as he sags and cries freely into his lap. The oldest clenches his fists tight and pins you down with an ice cold glare that sends a shiver down your spine.

You look away from them both and instead turn to your benefactor.

“My friends and I are about to play a game. One you know well, darling,” he explains. He uses the gun to push a strand of his hair back innocently.

The gun prompts your memory. You feel your hands begin to shake.

Russian roulette.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” your benefactor turns back to the men, “And one. I’m sure you’ve all heard of it, yes? Little star, will you demonstrate?”

He pushes you forward firmly with hand holding the gun. The cold metal stings as it presses against your back.

You swallow and extend your hands in front of yourself. You also know this one. You’ve played it with him on occasion although it’s usually when he’s feeling more playful in bed. It’s never really done with a weapon.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he calls out. Your hands move at the beat. At the end, your right becomes paper and your left a rock. He extends his own hand and you see he’s chosen scissors, “Minus one.”

Your right hand falls away leaving your rock. You tap his scissors once and he drops it obediently.

“Well done, little star,” he praises. His voice drops to that low, seductive murmur you like. Despite the situation at hand, you feel a little flutter of excitement singe through your blood.

“When you lose a round, you play a round of Russian roulette. I’m sure both of you are familiar with it. You take a gun and load a single bullet in the revolver. Then you spin it around until you don’t know where the bullet is. The losing player takes the weapon, presses it to their head, and pulls the trigger. It’s a game of a chance. Your odds of surviving are 1 and 6. Those are good odds, yes?” He spins the revolver and presses the gun to his head.

Your mouth grows dry with worry as he pulls the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

A breath releases from your lips slowly in relief. He shoots you a wink with his lips curled up at the corner. He enjoys the moments he can make your heart skip a beat in fear.

“Again.”

This time he sets the gun down and extends both his hands towards you. You do the same.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Your hands become two rocks. His left becomes a paper and his right another rock.

“Minus one.”

You jerk one hand behind your back and he beats you with his left. The revolver is spun again and he hands you the gun silently.

Fear clenches its cold fingers around your stomach. As always, your hand shakes when you take it from him. You’ve never been a fan of this game, but you don’t want to disappoint him. His eyes are watching your every movement, and you know he won’t tolerate disobedience. If there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it is when you cannot do as you are told.

You press the barrel of the weapon to your temple and pull the trigger before you can second guess yourself. Dying doesn’t scare you. Living without him is far more terrifying.

Click.

A breath of air passes through your lips. You don’t have time to register your relief before he takes the weapon back and gives it another mighty spin.

“See, gentlemen? 1 in 6. My darling and I have both survived,” he taps your shoulder indicating you to step back. You move behind him and press yourself to the wall.

The two men are still shaking. The youngest lets out a noise of pure terror as your benefactor hums and raises the gun. The eldest glares at you from beneath his dark eyebrows. Idly, you wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

Does he see another captor deriving sick amusement from the torture or perhaps just a bystander watching it all from behind his captor’s back? You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought.

The truth is, this dark and dangerous world evades you. You don’t really know what it all means. You’ve spent the last few years dancing across the edges of it but never truly venturing forth. Even now, you don’t really know what it is that is happening or who exactly your benefactor is besides a savior.

Two years ago, you were a college student in your second year with the weight of the world upon your shoulders. Your home life had always been poor, an indebted dead father and an absent, broke mother, but your studies were the area you excelled at. You had managed to win a full ride to one of the most prestigious universities in Korea. The world of poverty you were born in was slowly coloring into rose golds and glimmers at the prospect of more.

Then your world had ended.

In your second year, you lost your scholarship. The burden of all the expectations on your shoulders had broken you beneath their weight. You who had always had good grades had suddenly burned out. Your test scores began to slip and your marks lowered across the board. Emails began to flood your inbox from the academic board warning you that you were now on academic probation and your scholarship hung in the balance.

The stress of being unable to raise your grades made them drop lower. You were so scared to fail that you failed at a faster rate. Eventually, a single email had appeared warning you that you had lost your financial aid.

In a puff of smoke, everything was gone. Your university account was locked, you were dropped from your classes, and the university warned you’d have a month to pay for the tuition before you were permanently withdrawn from the registrar.

You hadn’t had the strength to tell your mother. She was always so fierce and stoic that you knew nothing but reproach would follow. She would berate you until you were in tears then disown you if she found out. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t have the funds to pay for it all off.

You were stuck. You had some savings but not nearly enough. Even the shitty part time jobs you had been able to find waitressing and working overnight hadn’t made a dent in the tuition. How could you possibly pay for a full degree with little to no savings?

The world had seemed so bleak then. You’d fallen into despair and waited until the moment it all came crashing down. When your mother called, you feigned still being a student all while rushing from place to place looking for a way to earn some cash.

And then your benefactor had found you.

Like the North Star, he’d shown the way for you. He had approached you after a long shift at work while you were dead tired. Your fingers had shook at the sight of your bank account still too low to make a dent on anything. Your rent, your loans, and everything else had eaten up what little you had managed to scrape by. The tuition was still too far away. You’d begun to sob quietly when he had cleared his throat and introduced himself.

To you then, you thought he cut a striking image. He was handsome, charming, and his too white teeth stretched into a smile. He had offered to play a game with you. Ddakji.

He offered you a choice. If you won, he’d pay you a sum. If you lost, you’d pay him back with your body.

While a part of you had grown weary, you were desperate enough to do it. The won he offered wasn’t a lot, but it could pay for a few textbooks or maybe a part of your loans to allow you more room to breathe. As for you paying him back, fine. He was handsome enough that you figured it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you ended up on your knees in some alleyway before him. The desperation had killed your pride a long time ago.

Without second guessing, you had taken the red slip of paper from him and played several rounds. During the game, it became apparent you were good. Really good. He never got a chance to win. You beat him at every round.

Every time you won, his charming gaze grew darker and darker. By the end, his eyes were pitch black and his smile was all sharp teeth and razor edges. Somehow, you had beat his challenge without even trying.

A card had emerged from his blazer pocket with an offer of a different game you could play. You had only glimpsed some shapes before he had suddenly snatched it back out of your hand. As if deciding otherwise, he took it back and offered you an alternative to the game. His pupils were blown wide and his fingers had snagged a strand of your hair to play with.

He had offered to be your benefactor. A star like you, he claimed, didn’t deserve to burn out. He had sat down then next to you and explained he knew who you were. Your name and information had left his mouth rapid fire.

He knew your name, what university you went to, and the exact amount needed to complete your studies. He knew you had lost your scholarship and how much your mother was banking on you graduating to elevate your socioeconomic standing. He also knew your rent was due soon and the window to enroll for classes for the next term was growing closer.

It was then he had presented a new offer. He’d be your benefactor. He’d pay for it all out of pocket. Your rent and bills would be paid, he’d pay for your tuition and even any further post grad studies if you wanted, and he’d give you the life of luxury a star like yourself deserved if only you agreed to be his. You were interesting, he claimed. No one had ever beaten his challenge before. He felt like you’d make a thrilling playmate.

Alarm bells had rung in your head then. Every nerve and neuron had fired all at once warning you of this man. No one offered all of the answers to your problems freely. His proposition was also chilly. You were not too dangerously naive. You knew just what kind of “playing” he meant just based off the way his eyes kept picking you apart-

But you were desperate. The weight of it all was suffocating. You didn’t know how to claw your way out of the hole you’d found yourself in, yet here was this handsome man offering you everything you could ever want.

You’d taken his offer. He had extended his hand and you had accepted it.

The very next day, your problems had all disappeared. An email had arrived from the university happily letting you know your tuition had been paid for in full and offering you to re-enroll in your previous courses. Your landlord had sent you a message thanking you for paying for the next year of rent in advance and been very shocked that you had even sent extra to cover utilities. Plus, a big delivery van had arrived in the afternoon bearing several packages. Textbooks for the new year, a new computer for homework assignments, and some nice clothes had been left on your doorstep all with a note from your benefactor.

By the time you had finished unpacking every gift, your doorbell had rung again and your benefactor was outside your doorstep waiting to collect on your end of the deal.

And you had paid him in full.

You’d welcomed him into your apartment with all it entailed. He was fascinating. A thrilling mystery and exciting to be with. It had started small. Little stolen moments here and there in your living room or bed. Then it had escalated.

He’d trained you to be his perfect companion. He decorated you in the clothing and jewelry he liked best. He taught you all the little games he liked to play. Games that made your eyes roll back in pleasure or teeth grit in pain.

Before you knew it, he owned you completely. You’d taken cruelty at his hand. Thanked him for the insults and kissed his hands after the beatings. You’d let him cut you with knives and lick the blood afterwords. You’d played Russian roulette until the gun clicked 5 times and he’d decided it was enough. All of it you’d done for him.

He was a drug. He took care of you at a time when you’d felt abandoned. A light in the darkness. The morning star burning bright.

In the time you’d been with him, he’d broken down your barriers. You’ve learned to take his cruelty and fashion it into love. A part of you yearns for him, aches at the very core of who you are to be his forever. He no longer scares you. You’ve take it all. Played Russian roulette until he’s grown bored, accepted the thought of dying by his hand, and learned to love his rough edges and manic phases as long as he lets you stay at his side.

Perhaps this is what this man sees now. A girl half his captor’s age standing pretty at his back somewhere between cowering and leaning forward into the abyss. Maybe that’s why his eyes grow full of hatred and he levels you with a glare that makes you shirk back into the shadows of the room.

Your benefactor continues after a brief pause.

“Your odds of dying are 1 in 6. Your odds of surviving are 5 and 6,” he calls out. He presses the barrel to his head and it clicks empty a third time. A shrill whistle leaves his lips.

The men cower.

“Shall we begin?” He motions for you to take a seat. You hop onto the table at the back where a record player sits. You turn it on and music floods the room adding a nice backdrop to the game.

Your benefactor shoots you a grin at the top of his shoulder before he takes his place between the two men.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

The men jump into action. The eldest raises his trembling hands. A rock and scissors. You raise an eyebrow as you see the youngest has been paralyzed with fear and hasn’t moved.

Your benefactor clicks his tongue disappointed. You wince. He hates when someone refuses to play.

“You didn’t play. You broke the rules for the first round,” he comments and raises his hand, “Disqualified.”

Muffled shrieks sound from the two men as the gun is pointed at the disqualified player. You bite the inside of your cheek and press your legs together in anticipation. A spark of arousal ignites within your blood. You like this side of him, you realize. It is terrible and twisted but oh so thrilling. Your arms prickle with gooseflesh and your fingers cinch around your clothing wishing desperately you could wrap them around him.

A click of the gun echoes followed by screams from within the gag. Empty.

A silence descends as the younger man hyperventilates. The older man sags against his chair in relief.

Your benefactor offers the gun for you to spin. His eyes are ablaze with excitement. He loves this and he knows you love that he loves it. He can see through you in a way no one can or ever will again.

You spin the barrel for him and the game continues.

The second round, the younger man wins. The eldest screams open mouthed as the barrel is pressed to his temple.

Another click.

You watch with mild interest as your benefactor dabs at the sweat gathering on the oldest man.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he reassures, “Like I said, your odds of survival are 5 in 6.”

You recognize those words. He’d said the same thing to you the first time you’d played the game with him.

He’d introduced you to it early on in your arrangement. You’d sobbed and screamed every time he’d pressed the gun to your forehead. You’d thought him crazy then, absolutely insane, and you’d begged him not to kill you.

He’d licked your tears and groaned at the sight of you so afraid. Danger excited him but fear drove him mad. He’d grown even more aroused with your terror. He’d pressed the gun to your head again and again ordering you to remain still and repeated the odds as if numbers had meant anything to you then.

You’d played ten rounds miraculously surviving each one. When he’d finally had his fill, he’d set the gun down and taken you again. That time, you couldn’t deny that the boneless feeling of the adrenaline crash after such a big fright wasn’t thrilling.

You hated the damn game. It scared you and made you want to faint. Every time you waited for that click felt like torture, but you liked the after. Liked the relief of survival and the way he grew even more excited at your reactions.

You bet he’s excited now. With his back to you, you can’t tell, but you suspect he’s straining against his pants.

It’s not the danger that gets him going, you know. It’s the fear.

And panic runs rampant in this room. It dances around the edges and leaves a hazy sheen. You clench your thighs together again and suppress the urge to make a sound. Perhaps you’re a little too much like him. You briefly wonder if you’ve always been this way, if maybe his presence unlocked some hidden recess of your mind you always buried beneath propriety and morality, or if he has corrupted you to the core and damned your soul through his proximity.

“Let’s play again,” he calls out. He spins the barrel again and his wrist snaps up. He moves like an announcer to a game show. Movements sharp and crisp.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

The men move.

“Minus one.”

Click

Another scream. The youngest squeezes his eyes shut as the gun is moved away from him.

A weary sigh leaves your benefactor’s lips. You recognize the boredom that descends over him. He’s a man of extremes that flicker faster than light. One moment he can be terribly excited and the next terribly bored.

Now, it seems he’s grown uninterested. He moves away and towards the table with the rest of the bullets lined neatly in a row.

“It’s a little boring, isn’t it?” He directs the question at you.

“Hm,” you make a noncommittal noise.

You know what’s coming. Your fingers snag the bullets one by one and extend them towards him.

This is the part of the game you absolutely hate. Russian roulette is terrifying enough with the odds of 1 and 6, but 5 in 6?

The one time he had ever wanted to play it with you, you had adamantly refused. You’d cried and begged him not to terrified at the thought of dying in such a twisted way. He’d watched you cry for over an hour amused as you’d pleaded with him on your knees not to make you.

In the end, he had relented. He’d taken your face in his hands and kissed you humming that he had changed his mind. His voice had been nonchalant as he had remarked that it was better if your pretty brains didn’t end up splattered on the wall after all, and that had been it. He’d abandoned the hope of the game and never brought it up again. You’d played Russian roulette normally from then on when he felt adventurous, sometimes without spinning the barrel every round, but that was the extent of it. He’d never pressed for a more extreme version.

Except now.

Whatever these men have done, he does not care if they live or die. This is purely for his entertainment. It’s all one big game.

“Let’s reverse the odds, shall we?” He takes the bullets from you and loads them one by one except for the last one.

The men beg and plead for mercy. Your benefactor ignores them as if they haven’t said anything.

“Your odds of death are now 5 and 6. Your odds of living are 1 and 6. Let’s continue,” He doesn’t wait for them to agree. He takes his place at the front and looks towards you expectantly, “Darling?”

With a jolt, you realize he’s giving you the honors. You clear your throat and straighten up.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” you call out. You’ve done it a thousand times before, “Minus one.”

A tie.

You blink and the game continues. Over and over, the men tie. Eventually, you get bored of referring the game.

And then the tie breaks.

The men choose different options. It’s a win-lose situation. You and your benefactor lock eyes just as the song on the record hits its crescendo.

The eldest is going to win. You’re certain of it. All he needs is to move his hand with the scissors back. The youngest could win too, but he looks too scared to piece together the fact that victory is so close.

Deciding to close out the game, you call out one final command.

“Minus one.”

The youngest screams and the eldest closes his eyes. You lean forward to see who’s won and then raise your eyebrows.

Your benefactor clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“Too bad, you didn’t take one away. Disqualified.”

It happens before you even have time to blink. The gun is raised forward and a tiny scream escapes your mouth.

Bang

Blood and viscera splash on your carpet and walls. The youngest lets out his loudest scream yet and descends into tinier little screams of pure terror. Your benefactor hums and straightens. Before him, you can see the eldest has died.

5 in 6.

The record ceases its playing and you pause waiting for any indication that someone has overheard. Thankfully, your walls are pretty thick and your neighbor moved out last week. You suspect this is why your home was chosen as the venue for this little game.

Your benefactor hums and removes the remaining bullets from the gun, all but one. He wipes the blood from the barrel and hums a song under his breath.

“Congratulations, you’ve won,” he remarks to the other man.

The man is bent over his chair in agony still screaming. Whoever this man is, he was important. You know he has sacrificed himself for him. Briefly, you wonder who they are.

Bile floods your mouth at the sight of his corpse and you force yourself to look away. Instead, you focus on your benefactor. His fingers trace down your face and you see there’s some blood that stains them. You suspect some of the blood is on your cheeks and hair likely from the splatter.

“Thank you for the assist, little star. You’ve always been very good at this game,” he murmurs. He leans towards you and you adjust yourself to accommodate him. Your legs open for him to slot himself between them and your hands go to the lapels of his jacket.

He presses his mouth firmly against yours. You meet his kiss with a burning intensity. Your fingers card through his hair and his hand goes to the back of your head to press you closer. His teeth snag on your bottom lip and copper fills your mouth. A pained squeak leaves you before he swallows it down and pushes you closer.

It’s a while before he draws back. Your lungs burn and you’re sure your mouth is swollen. This close to him, you can feel something press against your core. He’s hard. The game has given him an edge of excitement. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he praises. His fingers swipe at your bleeding bottom lip. He licks at the blood on his index finger and meets your eyes as it comes away clean. His pupils are blown wide with lust. You imagine you look the same.

He knows what that praise does to you. You hold him close as he leans forward. His hands grip your thighs and he yanks you until you are leaning over the edge of the table. Your legs hang limply before he helps wrap them around his waist.

He is hard. He’s straining against the front of his pants and you automatically tip your hips up in anticipation. A gasp leaves you just as a growl resounds from the back of his throat.

He presses his mouth against a pulse point in your neck and bites down just as hips roll again.

“Did my little star enjoy the game? Is that why you’re so eager now? Hm,” he murmurs it against your skin and his lips tickle.

It’s embarrassing to admit it out loud. You close your eyes as his fingers slip beneath your skirt. They slip underneath your panties and find your excitement already beginning to gather.

He chuckles underneath his breath and offers them to you.

“See that? Taste yourself,” he orders.

You take his fingers in your mouth and swipe your tongue along his digits. The taste of you is sharp and raw. You can feel your core clench against nothing in anticipation.

He forces his fingers back into your throat. You protest as he hits the very back and tries to get you to gag. Your hand goes to his wrist to try to shove him off and he smacks it away.

“Ah, ah, all the way.”

The feeling of your gag reflex being suppressed makes your eyes water. You squeeze your thumbs hoping that old wives tale works.

He likes teasing you like this. His favorite thing in the world is when you cry. He often does whatever he can to get tears to pool at the corner of your eyes. Nothing gets him off quite like it.

A sound registers behind you both. It’s the man from earlier. You’ve completely forgotten about his existence too drunk on the feeling of lust.

The man is bent over with pure repulsion and disgust written on his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s gagging. You don’t know whether it’s because of the gory sight of his friend in front of him or from your display.

Either way, your benefactor withdraws his fingers from your mouth giving you a chance to breathe. He tilts your head towards him and you meet his eyes. His eyes are pure black, lust clear as day, and he stares at the thin string of saliva that follows his fingers as he withdraws them.

“Ah, ah, don’t look at him. Look at me, little star. Eyes on me.��

You do.

Your heart is a humming bird in your chest and the way your core is clenching around nothing is uncomfortable. Desperately, you want him. Audience or not, you need him in that very moment or you feel like you will die.

“Please,” the plea leaves your lips before you can think. Your mouth moves to his neck to find a nice spot to sink your teeth into. His skin tastes like salty sweat and copper. He has blood specks all over him. You trace them with your tongue and the taste leaves you reeling.

He backs away a little and something cold presses to your mouth. The gun.

Your breath hitches in nervousness as he motions for you to open your mouth.

“Why don’t we show our guest how we play Russian roulette, hm? Teach him how it’s done?” He smirks and moves the gun further into your mouth.

Fear courses through your veins. The gun tastes of gunpowder and blood. You’d gag in revulsion if you weren’t already gagging from the feeling of it pressing against your throat.

“Put on a show, little star,” he urges, “Show our guest how we play our games.”

You know what he wants. You close your eyes and move your tongue around the barrel swirling and licking at the cold metal. You imagine your mouth wrapped around him and suck your cheeks in the way you would him. It’s vile and dirty and oh so tempting.

With him pressed so close, you swear you can feel him twitch against your core. Still, you continue. Obscene sounds fill the room as you lick and suck alternating between the two in a rhythm that you know would drive him crazy.

Click

The gun clicks empty. You realize with a flash of fear that he has pulled the trigger. So distracted by your actions, you had forgotten you were playing a deadly game.

He mistakes your momentary lapse in attention for fearlessness. He withdraws the gun and puts it in his own mouth tasting your saliva.

Click

It’s empty for him too. He pulls it out and uses it to trace down the front of your blouse. You feel your heart pound against your ribcage as it moves lower and lower.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. The gun traces down and underneath your shirt. The metal kisses the skin and he sinks his teeth right into your neck leaving an ugly mark you’ll see tomorrow in the mirror.

You sigh against him and move your fingers to his front. He lets out a pleased grunt as you slip your fingers into his pants and trace the shape of him. You want him so badly and aren’t above begging.

Still, he isn’t quite done.

He moves the gun down to in between your legs and the metal teases your entrance. He swipes it back and forth a few times teasing you. You moan against it and roll your hips expertly trying to get any sort of relief from the tension.

There’s a coil in your stomach ready to burst. The anxiety from the loaded weapon combines with your arousal creating a dizzying mixture. He’s gotten you hooked on the feeling of danger. He once promised he’d ruin you and by God has he. You’re too far from grace now. You’re so wrecked and damned that you doubt Satan would even want your soul now.

He’s absolutely ruined you for all men. How on earth could any man give you any sort of pleasure now? How could you want anyone else now that you have tasted him and found heaven in the stars he makes you see when he brings you over the edge?

You know what he likes. You want to bring him pleasure, so you move yourself against the damn weapon meeting his thrusts of it.

It isn’t enough, you want him not the damn thing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and meet his eyes. Both of gazes burn with lust.

He’s panting against you, you realize. Both of your shallow breaths are mingling. He’s as turned on as you are. Still, he doesn’t give in. He wants to show you off, show off the control he has over you.

You won’t run. You won’t scream. You won’t cry or beg. You’ll take the scraps he gives you and obediently play his game. If he tells you to play with him, you will and you’ll thank him for it.

His hands shake as he moves the weapon against you. He’s reaching his limit. You groan out his name, his real name only you are allowed to use, and close your eyes.

“Please, please, please, I need you,” you beg. The weapon provides some friction but it’s not enough. You want more. You want him to take you. Nothing else compares to the feeling of him deep within you. No other man or your fingers could ever make you feel the way he does.

Click

The gun clicks empty again. With a shock, you realize he’s pulled the trigger while it’s inside you. Horror floods your system and you hide your face into the crook of his neck.

He’s pulled the trigger 3 times without spinning the barrel. That’s 3 times either of you could have died. Some more bile climbs up your throat and some of those alarm bells ring again. You had thought he’d gotten rid of your self preservation long ago but every once in a while those pesky instincts swim back to the surface.

For a brief second, you imagine saving yourself. You imagine shoving him off you and bolting. Maybe you’d make it to the door while he gathers his bearings. With the gun only loaded once, he might not be able to shoot you in time.

You could flee into the night and disappear. There’s enough cash in the jewelry you’re wearing to escape. Either you disappear from Korea entirely and forget all about this dangerous incubus in between your legs, or you go to the police station and reveal everything you know. Either choice would let you be free of him. You could run now and save what’s left of you-

But the thought disappears the moment you hear the sound of his zipper.

He’s set the gun down on the table beside you now and is freeing himself from his pants. Your mind goes blank with the promise of pleasure and all thoughts of salvation evaporate.

You widen your legs and move your garments to the side allowing him access. With how aroused you are, he slips in with ease.

The stretch of him makes you sigh. You dig your fingers into his coat and hook your legs together welcoming him in deeper. He wastes no time burying himself to the hilt.

The table rattles and bangs against the floor as he thrusts into you hard. He’s close to his own limit. His eyes are closing shut and the tempo he sets is brutal. You cry out and arch your back at the feeling of him pounding into you.

Whether it’s the game or you, he is close. He’s been close this entire time. You know neither of you will last long.

You meet his thrusts with a roll of your hips and your back arches. Pornographic sounds leave your mouth and you hear his own hisses and grunts in your ear. He’s so, so close. He’s unraveling with every deep, hard thrust.

“Yes, that’s it, little star, yes,” he bites into your ear and increases the force of his thrusts. The table bangs against the wall and you’re sure the damn thing will break from the force. Fuck, he’s going so hard. You can feel the tip of him kiss your cervix with every thrust. Tears well at the corner of your eyes and you squeak at the impact of his every move.

“Please,” you babble. Your vocabulary has been reduced to that one word. You move your leg just up a little and he hooks his hand around your thigh and bring it up higher. The new angle has him hitting a spot deep inside that no one but him has ever managed to find before. You feel yourself begin to shake as stars dance before your vision.

“I’m going to-so tight-“

He bites into your neck and you feel sharp pain. When he moves his head, you can see blood in his mouth. It stains the skin of his lips and runs down the side of your blouse. You know you’ll look ghastly by the time it’s all done. You’ll be covered in bruises and bite marks, but it will all have been worth it once you hit your peak.

“Fuck! You were fucking made for me, fuck,” he swears again. His hips begin to stutter. You know he’s close and your own mouth opens in a silent scream. He hits a spot in you that has your vision flashing white. Your mind blanks of all thought as you arch into him and dig your nails into the back of his neck.

“Daddy,” you gasp.

That word drives him mad. He grips you impossibly tighter and all but folds you over as he looms over you. His thrusts increase into a force that has the wood of the table creaking and splintering. You cry out in pain and pleasure as he begins to falter. His eyes roll back into his head and he groans.

“Fuck-darling-I’m going to,” he bruises your cervix as he begins to fall apart. He’s all but breaking down before you, “Call me that again-fuck.”

You’re about to hit your peak. He’s so deep inside you that he’s all you can think of. Unimaginable pleasure fills you and you babble.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy-“

In the end, that’s what does him in. With a final, guttural sound, he buries himself all the way in and falls apart. His eyes are rolled back and he spills into you. It’s burning hot and painful. You hit your own peak right after and your vision turns white. A burst of feedback fills your ears and you’re boneless.

He rides out his climax making you hiss at the overstimulation. Finally, he stills.

Quiet fills the room except for your shared breaths. The man behind you is shaking and looking away horrified by the display. You must look absolutely wrecked to him. A vile display of psychopaths covered in blood and feet away from a corpse.

You don’t care. No one could ever understand the pleasure that comes from damnation. You don’t mind being perceived as something hideous if only the man before you finds beauty in your darkness as you’ve been able to love the monstrous thing that lurks within him.

The cold barrel of the gun presses against the underside of your chin. A forceful kiss is pressed against your mouth and you meet its intensity and fervor with your own.

“Beg me,” he orders. His voice is gruff, husky with his release, but commanding all the same.

You don’t have to feign the fear in your voice.

“Please don’t,” you gasp, “We’ve played enough rounds.”

You tremble as he presses the gun deeper into your chin. His mouth is curled up in a lazy smirk satisfied and satiated. You’re not afraid as you regard him through the misty tears spilling from your eyes.

He leans forward and licks them one by one collecting the salt on his tongue. The sound that leaves his mouth at the taste is infernal.

He takes your offering of tears and accepts the sacrifice. A trade for your life.

Silently, he moves the gun away and aims at the ceiling.

Bang.

Plaster rains from the ceiling as the bullet goes flying. You scream in terror at the realization that he could have killed you. Some of the haze of pleasure dissipates leaving behind the terror that you feel every waking moment at his hand.

The man before you screams and begins to sob. Full blown hysteria follows and he begins to beg in earnest again pleading to be freed.

Your benefactor tosses the gun down at the ground bored and offers you one final kiss before he withdraws. He slips out of you and you make a sound at the feeling of emptiness. He’s left you feeling hollow and already you ache to have him again. You’re an insatiable thing ruined by his hand.

He zips himself back up and uses his hand to fix his hair. There’s sweat on his face and he moves away to gather himself again. You slide off the table on shaky legs and feel his spend run down your leg.

The table is broken now and you narrowly manage to move before it falls on one side and breaks. You both ignore the noise of the record player shattering as you take a moment to breathe.

In through your nose and out through your mouth. You ignore the scent of gun powder and the way your shoes squelch with the blood on the floor. Your hands adjust your skirt and blouse with shaky fingers.

“You should feel lucky,” your benefactor snaps his fingers, “You survived and you got a nice show out of it too. No one plays this game like my little star, but you managed to beat the odds.”

He’s speaking to the man. The man is still full body trembling and sobbing. He looks so pitiful with tears running down his face and snot dripping from his nose. You look away and make a face at the feeling of more spend running down. You’ll need to clean yourself up.

Your benefactor straightens up and you feel jealous at the way he can always look so put together. If it weren’t for the little specks of blood on his face, you would never be able to tell he was so ragged moments ago. You’re sure you must look like a mess with your clothing in disarray and the bruises already forming on your skin.

He scoops the gun again and offers it to your mouth. You know what he wants. It’s a ritual.

You kiss the barrel as a thanks for letting you live another day then his fingers for introducing you to something so wicked. The corners of his mouth twitch up in a smirk.

“Good girl.”

He slings the thing in his jacket pocket and scoops the bullets into his hand. Nodding his head, he dismisses you.

“Now go clean yourself up, little star. I’ve still got some business with our guest. I’m going to be out late tonight,” he calls out.

You don’t need to be told twice. You move on still shaky legs and whisper out a declaration of love. Like always, it goes unanswered. Shrieks sound from the man as he is hefted out of the chair as if weighing nothing and dragged off into the night.

You watch your benefactor disappear out the door carrying the man out into the chilly air.

You never see him again.

#squid games #squid games x reader #the salesman #the salesman x reader #divider by sisterlucifergraphics

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