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sp4ceboo · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER 9 ~ AVOIDANCE

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: lowkey i'm kinda unhappy w how i wrote reader's emotional turmoil but i gotta post and it's only onwards and upwards from here 💪

chapter warnings: u can kinda tell i used wikihow to describe how to light a camping stove, emotional confrontation, some chunky paragraphs sorry not sorry, not much else ngl they get a sort of breather in this chapter but um not for long!!

chapter word count: 3.7k

You can’t look Minho in the eyes. He stares even more than he did before, and this time his gaze is pointed - he wants to talk to you.

All you want to do is keep your head down and avoid him.

You aren't angry with him, nor do you want to give him the silent treatment, rather it’s that every time you see his face, you cannot help remember the muted, flat look in his eyes, completely at odds with all that is Minho, and it strikes you through with fear and shame. You’re the one with the crazy prophetic dreams, the one who might have knowledge no human should probably be in possession of: you should have been the responsible one.

Lives had been on the line, and the only thing you’d done was argue with someone who wasn’t even in control of himself.

Eventually, you’re going to have to face him head on. You do spend every hour of the day with all eight of them, trudging towards the train tracks - it’s a confrontation bound to happen soon. You’re just happy to leave it for later, though you shouldn’t be.

To make it worse, everyone’s picked up on it: if sleeping next to Jeongin yesterday wasn’t enough of a sign, how you’ve acted all day today has surely given it away. You’re half sure the only reason Chan hasn’t nudged you about it yet is because he thinks you need space. They’re all being extra careful with you, like you’re something fragile. It’s beginning to get on your nerves.

It’s your second day on the run, and you volunteer to take the night watch.

The words have barely left your lips before Minho declares he’ll take it with you, blurting it before anyone else can step in. He shoots you an apologetic look, knowing precisely the corner he’s backed you into, and you sigh and stare at your lap. Like he’s the one who has to be sorry.

You don’t really know what you’re scared of, really. He’s not going to attack you - no, if anything, Minho wants to reconcile with you. You’re just spending too much time listening to the sneaking doubts niggling at the edges of your conscience that say maybe he does think you don’t belong, maybe he does mistrust you.

Frankly, it’s ridiculous that this is what has got your stomach in uncomfortable knots after what you’ve been through, but here you are. There’s no running away from him. It’s probably a good thing. You have far worse things you could be running from.

The nine of you have set up camp in a school gymnasium (abandoned, like everything else). Strange, red tinted moonlight spills through the high windows of the hall; if you squint, you can see the sky through the branches of the trees outside. The silhouettes of the alien ships are just about distinguishable, blotting out the stars in their droves, and you wonder if those same stars they’re blocking from view are part of the galaxies they came from.

Eventually, you tear your eyes away, instead studying the small array of trophies in the glass case to your right. You don’t like thinking about the aliens, because it makes you think about the future. You’d much rather stare at the inane things before you, things that won’t hurt you.

The school is a good place to camp out in, both in terms of security and comfort, with a lot of easy exits, and close to the tracks too - you imagine that some of the kids that went here took the train to school. Tomorrow, you’ll walk along the tracks until you find a good base, but for now you’re on the balcony of the gymnasium, among the clutter of yoga mats and a few bashed up ergos.

You think it’s a little eerie, being in a place that must have been so full of noise and life, now empty like a hollowed out shell, but there are eight warm bodies along with your own to fight off the dark. The seven not on watch are already cuddled up in their blankets, and despite your apprehensions, the sight of them puts a little smile on your face.

Curling up facing the balcony’s railings, you tuck your knees to your chest and wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Squinting up at the ceiling, you’ve just begun to idly count the balls that must have gotten wedged between the gymnasium ceiling and its support struts over the years when Minho moves to sit beside you, close but not touching. To your relief, he says nothing yet.

It’s cold enough that your breath is misting. Silently, you offer him a corner of the blanket to drape over his shoulders, and he takes it, his fingers brushing yours.

“Thanks,” Minho says.

You press your lips together and nod, ignoring the way you can feel his eyes on you, boring rather insistently into the side of your face. Absently, he fidgets with the edge of the blanket, picking at the seams, and you fight the urge to do the same, if just to have something to do with your hands.

Eventually, he nudges you slightly with his elbow. “D’you remember that day we were held up on the supply run, just after you’d recovered?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek and giving in to the temptation of the loose thread coming off your side of the blanket. Picking at it a little too vigorously, you focus on unravelling the stitch, wrapping the string around your fingertip and pulling hard enough to momentarily cut off the circulation.

He sighs, then continues. “I’m glad you were there, you know.”

Finally, you look at him. His eyes are gentler than you thought they’d be. You frown. “Why?”

“Jisung needed you.”

Your hands slow on the blanket. “How do you know about that?”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you realise how stupid they are. No one keeps secrets from each other here - there’s no need for that. Jisung probably told him himself, during one of their whispered night time conversations after you and most of the rest of the boys have drifted off.

“Jisung told me,” Minho replies, just as you’d thought. “And Hyunjin too. I’m normally there for him when it happens - when it gets too much. I was trying to figure out how to approach you to thank you.”

“Oh,” you say. “I - I didn’t know.”

So that’s why he was staring.

“I’m glad you’re with us,” he continues. “And I do trust you. I just, well, I don’t know. I don’t normally do that - confront people like that. I don’t know what got into me.” He laughs mirthlessly. “I certainly don’t slap Chan very often.”

You stiffen a little, another wave of guilt washing over you. Now more than ever, how he was under War’s influence is so starkly at odds with the Minho you’ve come to know, and you’re ashamed you ever thought that those words could have come from him and him only. Your dreams are on the tip of your tongue, a rush of reassurances that you don’t blame him for it, and yet you can’t find the right words to make the whole thing sound plausible.

“Don’t worry,” is all that comes out. “I’m sorry I got so riled up. I was wrong, anyway. If we’d run straight away, we probably could have missed out on getting cornered in that alley.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I think it would have been fine either way. Really, it was the arguing that delayed us, and I’m sorry for that, too. I hope it… I hope it won’t get in between us.”

Oh, Minho.

Despite yourself, your eyes begin to well up - he has reached out to you so easily, so hopefully that it hurts a little how far he has let his walls down for you. His apology has come from the heart, this earnest peace offering too, and you realise that it shows how much you must mean if he is so eager to make amends.

“Me too,” you manage, wiping at your eyes and sniffling.

Gingerly, Minho eases an arm around you, and you turn and squeeze him tight in return, hiding your face in his shoulder so he doesn’t see your tears. Tucking your head under his chin, he holds you just as close, and you know he needs the hug as much as you do; his fingers ball in the fabric of your shirt, and you hear the deep breath he releases, your ear pressed to his chest.

“I’m always so scared,” he confesses, voice barely a whisper in your hair. “Chan works himself to the bone, and I know I’m his backup. He sees the best in people, so I have to see the worst in them to keep us protected.”

You pull back, and he hesitates but lets you. Carefully, you cup his face in your palms, bringing you close enough to see the anguish in his eyes is bright as diamond, sharp edged and cutting. He leans into your touch and his shoulders slump, like he’s letting go of something he’d been hanging onto for too long, as if instantly, with the words off his chest, he’s crumbled to pieces, and you hold the fragments of him in your hands.

You can’t tell him not to be scared. You can’t tell him there’s no need for protection. You can’t tell him that things will be fine, or that no one will get hurt, maybe worse, or that there will never be a situation where Chan is gone and you do need backup. You won’t lie to him, so you offer a better truth than all those things instead.

“I’m scared too,” you tell him. “We’re all scared, but we’re here to carry the weight too. You don’t have to bear anyone else’s burdens for them, Minho. We share food, we share blankets, we share air. We share everything, even the hard stuff.”

Again, you wrap your arms around each other, finding refuge in the other’s embrace: you can feel something mending between you, something sweet and hopeful, even against the ugliness of the world outside, even against all the odds. Minho is warm against the cold of the night air, pressed to your side like a complementary puzzle piece.

You spend the rest of the watch tucked close together, comforted by the synchronised sound of your breathing.

The next day, you wake the others early, sharing a box of dry cereal for breakfast (you’d kill for just a splash of milk, but that’s about as likely as seeing a cow on the street) before you set off, following the train tracks. Walking along the rail that once would have been live seems wrong, but it’s much easier than fighting through the overgrown plants on either side.

For a while, you walk with Jisung and Changbin, laughing as they tease each other playfully. You look over your shoulder by chance, wanting to see how far you’ve progressed since you set off, and your eyes fall on Hyunjin, hanging back at the rear of the group. He’s lost in thought, staring at the tracks, absent in a way that’s uncharacteristic, and you slow until you fall in step with him. You have no doubt what’s weighing on his mind.

He’d looked so frail, impaled through with War’s broadsword. You wonder if he too had stared into the horseman’s eyes, if he had felt the flames brand his skin as his heart was ripped from his chest. You wonder if the shadows still speak to him, lingering in the darkened corners of his mind like they do yours.

You nudge him. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, too quickly, busying himself with kicking a pebble along in front of him.

“Really?” You challenge.

Something cracks in the calmness of his expression, like a series of ripples in a smooth pond, and he turns to you, distraught, pleading eyes brimming with dread. White knuckled, he grips your hand, and you grip it right back, holding his gaze and waiting.

“I don’t want to be the weak link,” he whispers desperately. “Did it make me the weak link? Was my mind too fragile - is that how it took over?”

Vehemently, you shake your head. “No, Jinnie. You’re not weak, not at all. I don’t know how it got you, but it’s not your fault.”

He pales. “What if I lose control? What if I turn on you?”

“You won’t,” you say firmly. “We won’t let it happen. You’re here now, aren’t you? It let you go. We’d never let War have you.” He swallows, looks like he might object, but you squeeze his hand. “We’re in this together, mind control and crazy fever dreams regardless. You hear me?”

He looks down. “Yeah. I hear you.”

Your gaze softens. “You’re strong, Hwang Hyunjin. Stronger than you know.”

Worrying at his lip, he remains silent, keeping his fingers laced tightly with yours. You let your mind wander, simply staying by his side in case he needs to talk more, and though he says nothing else, you feel his hold on you ease a little, his shoulders relaxing as he begins to take in the greenery around you. He points out a pair of finches, flying circles around each other, and you laugh, watching them as you walk.

Changbin calls everyone to a stop when you get to Lonely St.. Like its name, the train station is lonely, and for good reason - though it isn’t huge, just the platforms, the barriers and a few long abandoned offices, it’s too big to make a camp in. There’s too much empty space, too many places to hide and ambush from with only nine of you. It appears others before you have come to the same conclusion, if the small burn spot and pile of ashes in the centre of the station building tells you anything.

The wide space makes you long for the simplicity of the lab, but there’s nothing like that here: living in someone else’s house seems wrong, and there aren’t many buildings small enough or defendable enough near the railway. You need something more compact.

In the end, you continue a little ways further down the tracks, slogging uphill, and that’s when you come across two empty carriages that look like they’d been isolated for maintenance; Lonely St. is still visible from here, its faded metal roof standing out against the surrounding greenery. Peering in through the scratched window, you note that they’re the type of carriages with the seating along the sides, leaving a wide space in the aisle for standing passengers. They seem pretty new, the fabric of the seats not yet worn down.

Changbin is the one to prise the doors open. It doesn’t take much force, and you file in behind him, fanning out within the carriage and looking around. There isn’t much to look at, but you can sense that everyone knows this is where you’ll settle, and they’re adjusting to the new space, to the idea that this is where you’ll spend your time having your dinners of tinned food and playing card games with Jisung’s weathered deck.

Logistically, you can’t see any problem with the place either: the tracks are on a slight hill, providing a good vantage point. No one will be able to sneak up on you here, and though you’ll be visible, you’ll see them approaching long before they can come in range.

“Here is good,” Seungmin says after a while.

Chan nods. “I agree. Everyone else?”

No one objects, so together, you unpack. You want to remain as mobile as you can, just in case, so you don’t empty out the bags like you did back in the lab, instead lining the full backpacks up against one end of the carriage. It starts to feel more homely when Minho and Felix lay out the blankets - you can't help but smile fondly when your eyes fall on the Hello Kitty blanket, the clash of the baby pink against the orange seats of the carriage nothing short of awful.

Changbin announces that he thinks making a map will make it easier to pinpoint the areas too close to the armies, and that he’s going to look in the station for some supplies. Jeongin offers to go with him. You watch them go as you sit in the doorway of the carriage, your legs dangling off the side, smiling as Changbin heavily slings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. The younger man staggers under his senior’s weight and endures it for a while before playfully shoving him, sending him stumbling.

They’ve walked quite far away now, but you can still hear the hearty sound of their laughter. You hope they never lose that ability of theirs, to laugh in the face of it all, to smile despite the swarm of ships up in the crimson sky.

“Do you think there are others out there?” Jisung asks, sitting down beside you.

You swing your legs. “I don’t know. There must be. We can’t be the only survivors.”

“I guess they can’t all have been…” He makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Mind hijacked.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I don’t know how many were killed during Pestilence, but Seungmin, Minho and I saw one of the armies. If the other is roughly the same size, there’ll definitely be other survivors.”

“I hope there’s a way to free them. The soldiers, I mean.”

You look over at Jisung. His head is tipped back, and he looks up at the sky, eyes raised to the clouds. You can tell he’s deep in his thoughts. Your stomach twists at his words, your head abruptly filled with a terrible vision, one you fear is beginning to be recurring: all eight of them under War’s command, and you, desperately trying to wake them, to call to where they are imprisoned in the recesses of their minds.

“I hope so too,” you reply, and your voice trembles a little.

This time, he looks at you, turning his head and fixing solemn eyes on you. “We’ll be together until the end, if it comes to that.”

When you reach out, searching for something to anchor you, his hand is already waiting.

You sit together until Changbin and Jeongin come back, and at some point Hyunjin joins you, settling on Jisung’s other side and quietly humming a wandering tune under his breath, melodious and soft as the breeze that carries it away.

Changbin and Jeongin are heavy-laden when they finally arrive. The first has a small circular table tucked under his arm, obviously from one of the few mini cafes in the station, and some fold up chairs under the other, while the second has what looks like a camping backpack on his back and several more chairs in his hands. Panting, Jeongin drops them on the floor with a clatter, rolling his eyes when Changbin makes a sound of protest.

“I didn’t know we were fully furnishing,” Minho quips. “Should have brought the centrifuge from the lab, too.”

“Yeah, Binnie, did you even get any of the paper and pens you set out for?” Chan teases.

“They’re in the rucksack we found in the lost property,” Changbin huffs. “Along with the camping stove inside it, but I guess you guys don’t want warm food after all.” He crosses his arms, pouting. “Even though it’s been months.”

Your mouth waters at the sound of that, and you suddenly become aware of the hunger in your stomach, gaping inhumanly wide and heavy the moment your attention is brought to it. You’re plunged into an ocean of fear, flashes of a woman astride a black horse and a scale with a blood stained angel feather stark against the dark, the sound of Changbin’s voice muffled and unintelligible as the icy water fills your ears.

“ - you okay?”

Flinching, your shoulders tense, your hand coming up to hold your head before you stop it halfway and let it fall to your lap. Jeongin is staring at you intently, eyes worried and slightly narrowed, but he hasn’t drawn anyone else’s focus. You force yourself to relax, to smile, even as bile rises in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you keep your voice light, airy.

Studiously, you ignore the dubious look he sends, turning your head to tune back into the conversation. Changbin is holding a lighter and a gas canister, and after some debate he hands it to Jisung and points the spot to set up the camping stove, indicating that you help ignite the stove - none of his words register in your head, but you nod and fight back visions of a pretty, frigid face.

The boys disperse, though Minho stays close, opening the fold up chairs and setting them in a circle around where you and Jisung are crouched beside the stove, his feet crunching in the loose pebbles behind you. You push the third horseman right out of your head, instead focusing on the things in front of you. Beneath your feet, the shale makes you a little unsteady, the air is fresh, a breeze blowing in from in front and playing with your hair, and Jisung is fumbling while trying to screw the canister in.

You lean back and sit, the crouch becoming too uncomfortable on your knees. Your gaze lingers on Jisung, admiring the smooth planes of his face and the scrunch between his brows as he focuses. That chases away any lingering shadows.

“Got it,” he says, finally aligning the canister properly and checking it’s secure.

“I’m about to have the best lunch ever,” you declare, picking up the lighter.

Steadily, you hold the lighter in place, its little flame dancing, and use your other hand to turn the knob and switch the gas on. The stove catches the lighter’s fire, and beside you, Jisung whoops triumphantly. You turn your head to congratulate him, and your expression drops, eyes looking straight past his shoulder.

In the distance, just exiting the station and coming towards you, two figures approach.

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vavistus · 1 month ago

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Within a few months ive lost my mittens twice while out but both times found them again

#its crazy they just turn non existent and then theyre gone?#the first time was when i left the book store #i had walked maybe 50 meters before i realized #went back to look and someone had put them on the chair there in the store #the second time i got out of my aunt's car and they were on my lap #so they fell to the ground in front of the store #but i didnt see them when i got out #only noticed once we had arrived to visit grandpa #and then hours later i went to look and someone had picked them up and put them on a chair in the entrance area of the store #kind people yay #i washed them after this second time though because i have zero trust #there are some disfusting people out there xd #someone might have touched the insides with their disgusting filthy hands #anyway ive become a human wreck this shit literally never happens to me and now its been twice ...

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dotoftheriver · 2 years ago

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#bought a random postcard of jimin without even really realizing today #i just picked it up while going through a pile of them and it had wuch good vibes i just didnt want to put it down #saw it in the pile of stuff i brought to the cash and was like 'guess he's mine now'#i mentioned thay to someone later and he was like 'well yeah he looks so happy of course'#im tired to the point of being slightly deliris so i am not at all explaining this right #but basically i saw jimin and my whole brain went 'he 🥰🥰🥰'#i imagine if i wver saw him in person id have a similar response #just a comfort boy gonna stick him in my pocket #or i guess hold him gently in my hand for an hour while i decide between ablums and stickers lol

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luv-lock · 5 months ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBELOVEDㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Damian Wayne x Fem Reader Part 3

☆⁠ HEADCANON : Your Relationship With Damian Was Good. But He Decided That It Was Time For You To Meet His Family...

☆⁠ NOTES : Reader is Dick's ex. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Damian sat at the grand dining table, surrounded by his family, each of them indulging in the rare moment of peace that only the Wayne family could afford. Bruce, as always, was silently observing his children while Jason, still in his worn leather jacket, slouched in his chair, seemingly bored by the usual family gathering.

“Next week,” Damian finally said, breaking the silence in his usual cool tone.

Everyone turned their attention to him, and Bruce raised an eyebrow, sensing something was coming.

“I’ll be inviting my future wife to dinner,” Damian continued, his voice steady, but with a flicker of something almost smug in his eyes. “She’ll be here next Wednesday.”

The rest of the family went silent for a moment, their gazes flicking to each other. Alfred raised an eyebrow, and Jason blinked in surprise.

"Wait, what?" Jason half-laughed, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're finally letting go of your stupid obsession, huh? You found someone who's not going to make you brood in the corner for hours?"

Damian’s eyes narrowed as his hand clenched around the edge of the table. Jason had been poking fun at him for years, always teasing him about his quiet obsession with you, the one person Damian had never let go of, even after years.

"I’m not obsessed," Damian muttered, glaring at his older brother. "You wouldn't understand."

Jason smirked. "Yeah, well, color me surprised. I didn't think you'd ever let another woman near you."

Damian only shot him another sharp look before getting up from the table, his cloak swirling behind him as he made his way to you. Jason's comment had struck a nerve, but he wasn't about to let anyone know it. Not yet.

When Damian found you later that evening, he was already planning the next steps in his mission to make you his—officially this time. You were in your apartment, tending to the plants you loved, when he knocked on your door. Without waiting for an invitation, he entered, his presence suddenly filling the room.

“What’s going on?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, already sensing something was off.

Damian’s lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. “I need to talk to you about something,” he said, crossing the room toward you. “Next week, I’m having dinner with my family. You’ll be joining us.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not having dinner with your family.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you will.”

“Damian,” you practically barked, “No! I'm not doing this. I’m Dick’s ex. There’s no way I’m going to walk into your family dinner while he’s sitting there. No way."

Damian remained unfazed, his smile remaining in place, though a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes as he watched you argue.

“You’re not listening beloved,” he said calmly. He had grown taller than you in the years since, taller than Dick now, a fact he didn’t fail to take advantage of. As you continued to protest, he reached forward, gently placing one hand on your waist.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you,” Damian said, his voice soft but firm. His fingers tightened ever so slightly as he pulled you closer, not letting you escape from his grasp.

Your protests faltered when his lips descended on yours. You punched his chest half-heartedly, but it was no use—he wasn’t letting go. Slowly, you gave in, closing your eyes as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled away, his expression softened, though his tone remained authoritative. “You’re going to wear something pretty,” he murmured, his eyes scanning your face with a look that could melt anyone. “You’ll be beautiful, and you’ll do as I say. Understand?”

Your lips parted, still slightly breathless from the kiss, but you were too stubborn to admit it. “You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” he interrupted. “I will pick the dress. Don’t argue with me.”

The day of dinner came, and as much as you wanted to fight Damian’s demands, a small part of you knew you couldn’t. You dressed carefully, though the idea of stepping into the Wayne family’s world again filled you with a strange unease. Still, you found yourself in the dress Damian had picked—a gorgeous emerald dress that fit you in all the right places.

As you adjusted the zipper, a soft knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Damian entered, looking every bit the heir to the Wayne legacy—suit sharp, hair perfectly in place, and that confident smirk you were starting to despise… and like.

“Let me,” he said softly, stepping behind you. You barely had time to process his words before his hand was at your back, gently pulling the zipper up. You stood still, feeling the heat rise to your face as he leaned closer, pressing his lips to your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed his way up to your neck.

“You look beautiful beloved,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin. He turned your face toward him, his gaze softening as he kissed your eyelid. He met your gaze with an unsettling intensity.

He kissed your neck softly, his lips leaving a trail that made your heart flutter in ways you didn’t want to admit. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

You blinked, trying to hide the heat in your face, but it was hard when he was so close, his lips barely grazing your skin with every word. “Damian, please,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes tracing your features with a satisfied gleam. “When we get there, you’re going to smile and behave. You’re going to look stunning and make them all understand why I picked you.”

He smirked again, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low. You barely had time to nod before he led you out of the apartment, his arm wrapped around your waist, the night unfolding before you.

The atmosphere at Wayne Manor was tense the moment you walked in. Everyone—Alfred, Bruce, and Jason—turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Jason’s jaw dropped first, his eyes wide with realization.

“Wait… Y/N?” he blurted out, eyes flicking between you and Damian.

You froze, your gaze meeting Dick’s across the room. His face lit up with a mixture of shock and delight.

His face softened, a surprised grin spreading across his face. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Are you… are you back?”

He looked genuinely happy to see you, like he thought this moment would come eventually. But that happiness quickly faltered when he saw the way Damian was looking at you, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

But Damian, standing behind you, didn't give Dick a chance to finish his sentence. His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he glared at his older brother.

Damian’s smirk was deadly as he placed his hand possessively on the small of your back, guiding you to your seat. “Back?” Damian repeated with a sneer. “What do you mean by that Grayson?”

Dick stiffened, the smile fading from his face. Bruce looked between the two, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on here, Damian?”

Damian’s voice was calm, almost smug as he leaned closer to you, his hand still at your back, possessive but gentle. “What is so hard to understand? I said I will bring my girlfriend, didn't I?”

The dinner started off awkwardly. Bruce, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation in a neutral direction. But it was clear that the elephant in the room was you—and how Damian had finally, and dramatically, claimed you as his.

Just as everyone was simmering in discomfort, Bruce suddenly broke the silence. “So… are you two planning on getting married anytime soon?” he asked, his tone casual, though there was a sharp edge to it.

You blinked at him. “What?”

Damian, without skipping a beat, gripped your hand a little tighter and looked at you with that confident, almost predatory gaze. “Yes, in the near future.”

The entire room went silent. Jason nearly choked on his water, while Tim looked like he was processing the chaos. Dick’s face went blank, the surprise evident in his eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your mind racing.

Damian just smiled. “No. I’m not.”

And the entire Wayne family? They were left in stunned silence.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

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fastandcarlos · 6 months ago

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Paddock Naps : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: when you and charles fall asleep in the paddock, team ferrari are on hand to tease you both about it

The weekend was weighing down on Charles as he tucked himself up into your side at the back of the garage, feeling his eyes immediately shut. Your arm wrapped around Charles as he made himself comfortable, resting your head on top of his as you soon found yourself drifting off into a dream as well.

You weren’t quite sure how long you slept for, unaware of the members of the team who kept walking past you, smiling down at how adorable the two of you looked curled up together.

Several of them made sure to take pictures too, knowing they could get Charles with it later.

As Carlos arrived where you were with Fred, they both decided to take a seat, glancing across at you both. “Do you think if we had the team meeting here, he’d wake up and realise?” Fred asked him.

“He looks like he’s in a happy dream,” Carlos commented, as he noticed the faint smile on Charles’ face. “He’s as useful asleep as he is awake in a team meeting though.”

Carlos leant forwards as he pulled his phone out from his back pocket, leaning closer towards you both. As he went to open his camera, the phone slipped out of his hands and went crashing to the ground, the sound making you flinch as your eyes opened.

“Sorry, sorry,” Carlos hurriedly said, reaching down to pick up his phone.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, rubbing the sleep from out of your eyes. “I didn’t realise that I drifted off, I was just going to sit here whilst Charles had a rest.”

To your side Charles was still fast asleep, unaware of anything that was going on around him. As your eyes glanced down you had to bite down on your bottom lip to hold back your laughter as you noticed his lips slightly parted from where he was heavy breathing.

Your hand reached across and brushed his hair back out of his face, your touch nice and gentle to make sure that you didn’t disturb him.

“Has he missed much?” You asked Carlos, stretching your legs out as you tried to wake them up again. “He said something about a meeting but I don’t know when it was.”

“Don’t worry, you’ve not missed anything. We can just let the precious baby sleep for a little while longer.”

Your head shook as Carlos sent you a grin, unable to stop himself from teasing him. As you spoke, Charles began to stir, but his eyes remained shut, blocking out the noise from around the garage.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” you warned, knowing exactly what Charles would do if he knew what the two of you said about him when he wasn’t listening.

A groan came from beside you, “what am I not supposed to hear someone say?”

Slowly, Charles began to sit himself up, stretching his arms up into the air. His smile faded as he noticed and Carlos both looking at them, heads shaking at the sigh that he let go of before dropping back down into your side again.

“Morning princess,” Carlos joked, feeling Charles’ eyes narrow in on him. “Nothing like a nap at work to get you through the day, right?”

Charles’ eyes flickered around, a gulp running down his throat as he realised where the three of you were sat, hidden away at the back of the garage with the rest of the team working around you.

“Of all the places to sleep, a noisy car garage is where you choose,” Carlos added, smirking at Charles as he buried his head into your neck, hiding away from it all.

Charles stirred once again as he sat himself up, smiling across at you. As a couple of engineers passed by, they smiled across at Charles, his smile in reply innocent and unaware of the photos that had been taken of him.

“I hope you know what you’ve just put your poor girlfriend to having to have your weight resting on her for the past hour,” Carlos warned him, pointing across in your direction.

Charles muttered an apology across at you, but you shook him off, assuring him that you didn’t mind. Knowing that he was resting was the most important thing for you at least.

“At least you’re awake for your meeting,” you smiled across at him.

Charles threw his head back, “I was hoping I might’ve slept through and missed that thing.”

“Fred isn’t that nice,” you joked, nudging Charles’ side. “Plus, meetings are quite important for the races, remember?”

Charles’ eyes rolled as you stood up from where you were sat, extending your hand out for Charles to take so that he could stand up and get moving too.

“Do you think many people saw us?” Charles whispered into your ear as Carlos went ahead of you.

Judging by the looks on the teams’ faces you already knew the answer, slowly nodding your head in response to Charles as another groan escaped him.

“I think you might want to show your face in as few places around the garage as possible this weekend,” you told him, “but if this was Carlos, you’d be the exact same, you two are as bad as each other sometimes.”

Charles went to reply but another yawn came from him, still exhausted and wishing that he could just go back and rest at the hotel with you.

“You’re not much good driving your car if you keep yawning.”

“I’m just knackered, I don’t know what to do.”

Your hand rested against Charles’ shoulder, understanding just how tired he was. It had been a long couple of weeks of racing nonstop leaving Charles on the go wondering when he might finally be able to get some rest.

The only bonus of it all was that you were there travelling with him, offering your services as his personal pillow whenever he needed it, giving him some time to forget about the stress of the race for a little while.

“We’ll be able to head home soon,” you reminded him, straightening out Charles’ top for him. “Two more days of racing and then we’ll be free.”

Charles’ smile slowly turned up, “I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed again and just cuddle, forget about work for a little while.”

The comfort of being able to go home soon was the only thing keeping Charles going, he wasn’t quite sure how he ever used to get through triple headers without you if he was honest, relying on you to keep him motivated and as well rested as you could.

“Don’t go sleeping during your meeting,” you joked as you stopped outside of the team room door. You stretched up onto your tiptoes and placed a kiss on Charles’ cheek, feeling him pull you back towards him though as you tried to pull back away.

Your head shook as the door opened to reveal Fred, hand on his waist as he waited for Charles to enter. You already knew he was late as he sleepily made his way up to the room, with the rest of the team glancing across at him expectantly through the doorway.

His sad eyes looked across at you, “wait for me until I’m done,” Charles asked you, “I might need another nap after listening to these guys bang on for an hour.”

“I’ll be right here, promise.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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effiestrinkets · 2 months ago

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THIS POST CONTAINS THG SOTR SPOILERS

finished sunrise on the reaping !! losing my mind. i cried so much.

here are some long rambling thoughts about my beloved effie trinket and also her friendship/relationship to haymitch abernathy. (yes, i’m back here after all these years lmao)

CW for themes present in the hunger games novels — murder, war, torture, cannibalism

this really is kinda wild to get new canon lore about haymitch and effie’s backstory so many years later. and that it contradicts all of our old fanon headcanons is funny, but honestly i love this canon backstory.

effie wasn’t a child watching haymitch’s games, but she’s actually a lil bit older than him! probably 5-10 years older, right? and imo she’s such a sweetheart even though she’s flawed and capitol-brainwashed. she came in and showed so much kindness to the D12 districts in the 50th hunger games, she met haymitch before he went into the arena and saw his true self. before alcoholism, before the capitol twisted him into something he wasn’t. the moment when he picked up the dropped makeup box for her was sweet.

i just love all of the new details we learn about effie. in the og trilogy katniss is so oblivious and dismissive of effie (no shade ily katniss) so i really enjoyed getting haymitch’s pov and finding out that he feels comforted by her and trusts her

• she had lavender hair when we first meet her!! this to me feels related to maysilee having a lavender dress at the reaping. something something both women are women haymitch grows to love. also love that we see effie wearing lavender in the hunger games movies a lot. lavender is associated with many meanings — calmness, grace, love, devotion, femininity, queerness, royalty, take your pick.

• loved to know effie loved her younger sister proserpina so fiercely and would go out of her way to help her :’)

• she dressed D12 nicely for their interviews and really showed them some small moments of kindness — it was especially lovely to see her and maysilee having moments of girlhood together in what were maysilee’s last hours of normality �� and that she was kind to lou lou

• also i enjoyed the hints about the trinket family and effie’s great-aunt messalina and great-uncle silius disgracing the family during the war. knowing it’s ‘hard (enough) to be a trinket’ in the context of the capitol really informs us of so much of effie’s motivations and mannerisms. she’s obsessed with being perfect because their family has clearly been critiqued and shunned at times. her sister’s at the university, not the academy, which means they aren’t part of the capitol elite.

and thinking about what they might have done to be disgraced… silius trinket owned clothes with concealed weapon slots? bloodstains?? plutarch describing silius as ‘depraved’??? it probably wasn’t rebel sympathy because effie says “you win” when vitus says that’s what his grandfather was, so i’m leaning towards cannibalism, becausec also…

in TBOSAS we learn from snow that nero price (a titan of the railroad industry) was a cannibal during the war and served his maid’s leg to his family. his daughter persephone price was a mentor along with snow in the 10th hunger games. it’s implied persephone price, as a child, ate the human meat food that her father provided. much like the myth of persephone eating the pomegranates from the underworld.

can someone with more ancient history knowledge pls expand upon this — i feel like it’s something. now, in ancient rome, valeria messalina was the cousin of emperor nero. she was the third wife of the roman emperor claudius, but had an affair and married her lover silius and as a result, messalina and silius were both executed.

and proserpina (effie’s sister) is the roman name for persephone (confirmed daughter of a cannibal in tbosas)! i personally believe that’s gotta be a sign that effie’s relatives also engaged in cannibalism during the war.

• effie told haymitch he was being brave and said he deserved to look beautiful 🥹

• she’s a fake leather hater, lol, this fact goes so well with film!effie loving mahogany

• she was so nervous before haymitch went into the arena that her hands were shaking, and she reminded him not to step off the plate for 60 seconds so he wouldn’t die

• she promised to get his token to his love (leonore dove) if he died in the arena

• she believed in a positive attitude to get through anything :’)

• post-games, she stood strong in the face of peacekeeper bullets and she was already faking positivity and she was determined as ever, ‘you can’t keep effie down’

• while everyone else saw haymitch as a vicious animal and had him chained up, she trusted he would never hurt her and stood by him

• she watched over haymitch at the victory party in the capitol when he was in a cage

• when they needed a new escort and plutarch suggested effie, she came even though it wouldn’t be easy for her. being an escort is a way for her to climb the social ranks, but it’s also so challenging and puts effie in line of president snow’s gaze

• after his family and leonore were killed, she tried to motivate haymitch to keep living when he was suicidal and she helped him to bathe and get cleaned up and doted on him and she took the knife out of his hands when he started sleeping with it

• she tried to keep haymitch sober on the victory tour despite all the booze around them

i love her so much u guys. she’s such a misunderstood character with a lot of love in her heart <33333

she’s brainwashed by the capitol from birth and she’s certainly got all of their superficiality, like she worries about trivial things like ageing and cares too much about how she looks, but in her heart she’s good and kind. she’s clearly just trying to survive and not get herself or her family killed by the regime.

plus, i’m now thinking of all of this in context of the other novels.

how in the hunger games haymitch tries to hug effie when she’s drunk (but she pushes him away bc she’s worried about looking perfect for the reaping), and how they bicker (more so in the films) but trust and actually get along with each other, because now we know they’ve known each other 25 years at this point and in this time, and that means they were mentor and escort to 46 children who died before katniss and peeta came along.

effie tries to help katniss and peeta, as best as she can, and she grows to love them. she just wants them to be safe and hates to see them hurt. and she wishes she could make sponsor deals… and she and haymitch are “of one mind” and really do work well together as a team. and effie hides her smiles when the other 3 are being kinda traitorous. she’s got a rebellious streak herself.

then in catching fire she’s even more of a mother hen to peeta and katniss, she stops drinking in solidarity with haymitch while he’s trying to be sober, she gets them all the gold bangles to be a team, when effie stresses about being behind schedule and everything not being perfect because of delays haymitch sides with effie when katniss is rude to her, effie fusses over the kids all the time, she freaks out when peeta and katniss do the seneca crane / rue moments to the gamemakers and haymitch sides with her warning them not to be rebellious. effie is so deeply aware of how rebellion gets u killed and she keeps her mouth shut to stay alive. just like haymitch does. GAHHHH.

and, the detail in sotr that effie hates needles, but then in mockingjay (the book) she ends up a prisoner of the capitol and gets tortured and starved and probably gets drugged to all hell. and haymitch and plutarch have a hard time keeping her alive. bloody hell.

now, onto the hayffie of it all.

book!haymitch loves leonore more than anything, and he still sees visions of her throughout his life including into the epilogue, post-war. i always wondered what suzanne collins would do after the films leaned in harder into the hayffie romance angle (thank u woody and liz lmao) and i do like that she kept it aligned to the original books — it’s very mature and realistic. they do care deeply for each other, but it’s not some glossed over romance given the deep trauma haymitch has been through.

book!haymitch by the end of his games, after everyone he loves is murdered, believes that he cannot love anyone or they’ll die. he closes himself off completely. of course he’s not going to allow himself to become romantically linked to effie and have a relationship with her. he’s broken and an alcoholic and trying to win a rebellion. katniss, in catching fire, thinks he could’ve had any woman in the district, but he doesn’t. he can’t.

but in the epilogue, now that the war’s over? yeah he worries that his liver is gonna fail him, but he’s still only in his early 40s and they do have great medicine so who’s to say what happens between him and effie in the next 40-50 years of their lives? maybe they stay just friends, maybe they become romantic. i think that’s all open to interpretation. SOTR really doesn’t rule out romantic!hayffie to me. in fact i think it gives us some delicious angst potential (hello fanfic) wherein he loves effie but will always love and mourn leonore.

anyway, i am just so glad to know more about effie trinket and glad we got to see her again. she is so special to me. i need an effie book please and thank you. ❤️

#sunrise on the reaping #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie #the hunger games #sotr spoilers #thg #bee posts text #meta #this got so long and rambly but i can’t be normal about effie trinket sorryyyy #thank u for listening!!

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marvelwitchergilmore · 9 months ago

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Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.

But he still had questions.

Unanswered questions.

Like who the hell were you?

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.

In the kitchens.

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.

And somehow

It was relaxing to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.”

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.

And he did.

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.

Then he jerked up.

With a grunt, he looked around him.

He was in his room.

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.

The Professor’s office.

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.

More so, when he saw your shoulder.

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked.

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

Fast asleep.

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.

Hell, even he needed sleep.

But you were just constantly forever going.

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.

You were fast asleep.

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.

A heavy blanket.

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.

He turned around but you were still.

Then you whimpered again.

“No,” you whispered.

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.

Except you reached out for his hand.

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching.

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?”

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.

And glowed.

They were still your eyes just…brighter.

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went silent.

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face.

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands.

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.

Because Logan already knew.

And so did you.

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 2 months ago

Note

(pre-relationship) Frank Langdon x Reader idea:

These two don't know yet that they like each other yet -- "I only got [Reader/Frank] a pack of sour gummy worms because they haven't eaten yet, their blood sugar is probably low and I wanted to be nice" "What do you mean 'it's weird that I gave [Reader/Frank] a long hug'? They just lost a patient, they needed the comfort" "I'm asking [Reader/Frank] all these in-depth questions because I'm their friend, it's normal for friends to want to know more about each other" etc. etc. etc. Just to set the scene. It's unbearably obvious to everyone else, but not to them.

Anyways. They're at that stage of their (inevitable) relationship. And here comes a patient -- some smarmy dude who thinks he's charismatic, but is really just a creep -- who needs a truly impressive number stitches (or a thousand pieces of gravel that needs to be picked out one by one). Reader gets stuck having to care for this guy, and he's just making it a miserable time for Reader. Reader feels trapped, not sure if they could stop and get someone else to help out instead, when Frank steps in and freaks out a little on this guy (nothing bad, but definitely not professional lmao).

Later, Dana (who's scolding Frank for his unprofessional behavior) tells him "dude. Would you even be reacting that strongly if you didn't have feelings for Reader?" Boom -- Frank's sudden epiphany that oh, maybe I do like Reader.

(Meanwhile Kiara is checking in on Reader, and due to their conversation Reader also realizes oh, maybe I do like Frank.)

Hold Up

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

summary: you and frank realize you have feelings for each other

pairing: dr. frank langdon x female reader

rating: R for language, pitt level heavyness

word count: 1.2k

warnings: death of a child, man being creepy toward reader, that's it i think

author’s note: i absolutely love this idea anon, and i hope i did it justice <3

“How many hours left in this shift?” Langdon sighed and leaned next to you against the front desk.

You checked your watch; “Four hours and twenty-seven minutes,” you answered his question.

“So excited to get the fuck outta here,” he said.

“What’re you doing after work?”

“Nothing much; just me, my dog, my TV, and take out.”

“Ah, sounds like a dream, Langdon,” you said.

“Oh, it is, for sure,” he laughed. “I noticed you haven’t eaten in a while, so I got you these from the vending machine and the food cart.” He handed you a sandwich and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“My favorite! Thanks, Langdon,” you exclaimed.

“Anytime,” he replied and got right back to work.

Robby noticed the little interaction and furrowed his brows as he watched you head to the break room for a quick lunch.

“What was that about?” he asked Langdon, walking up next to him.

“Y/n hadn’t eaten yet today,” Frank replied nonchalantly. “Her blood sugar’s probably low, I was just being nice.”

“So you bought her candy?”

“I knew she wouldn’t bother eating unless I lured her in with sour gummy worms,” Frank chuckled. “Smart, right?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you know she likes sour gummy worms?”

“Everybody does.” Frank shrugged before being called to help a patient.

“No, they don’t,” Robby mumbled to himself.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you told him. You reached out and held his hand in yours as you repeated the words. “This was not your fault.”

“I know,” he said, but you knew he didn’t believe himself. Frank had just lost a patient, a ten-year-old car accident victim.

You asked if he wanted a hug, and he replied by wrapping his arms around you. You returned the gesture and squeezed him tightly.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you said again.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

After a minute or two, he pulled away from the hug. He thanked you again before he went to help another patient.

“What was that about?” Dana asked you, her brows furrowed.

“What was what about?” you asked half-heartedly, looking up at the screens to pick out a patient.

“Why were you hugging Langdon for so long?” she asked.

“Oh, he lost a patient,” you replied.

“So you had to hug him for that long?” she chuckled a little.

“He needed the comfort.” You shrugged. “Ooh, nose job gone wrong? I’ll take that one,” you said and went to go grab the patient.

“These two, I swear,” Dana scoffed with a laugh, shaking her head with amusement.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?” Frank asked you.

“Ooh, that’s a tough one. I’ll get back to you on that,” you said before being whisked away to help a patient.

“What’s up with you and Langdon?” Samira asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked, focused on the patient and not fully paying attention to Dr. Mohan.

“Why are you and Langdon going back and forth with so many questions?”

“Oh, we’re playing this game where we ask each other a question every time we see each other. It helps pass the time.”

“Huh, strange game…”

“We’re friends,” you started, still fully focused on the patient, “we just want to get to know each other better.”

There was one patient no one wanted to take because they’d met him before, and all he did was hit on the women working there the whole time. You reluctantly took him as your patient (without Langdon knowing), and you had begun to despise him. His rude comments and gestures were only getting worse.

“C’mon, sweetheart; you, me, a bottle of wine at my place? Whaddaya say?” He smirked and reached out to touch you.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Frank exclaimed, much louder than he intended, and gained the attention of everyone around him.

“Nothing–” the man started, but Frank cut him off.

“You listen here, Dr. Y/l/n is not here to date you, and by the looks of it, she doesn’t want to be here at all. Now you are gonna man up and take a ‘no’ like a normal person, or I will escort you out myself.” Langdon stood there, fuming mad. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the man gulped.

“Yes, doctor,” Langdon corrected.

“Yes, doctor,” the man replied.

“Is everything okay in here?” Robby poked his head in.

“Everything’s fine,” Langdon said.

Kiara wanted to talk with you briefly after the incident, although you told her you were fine.

“I’m sure you were happy when Dr. Langdon came to your rescue,” she remarked.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about that. You know you’re allowed to date your coworkers, right?”

“Are you asking me out?” you teased.

“I meant,” she laughed a little, “you and Langdon.”

“Oh, we’re just friends.” You furrowed your brows.

“Sure,” Kiara said. She said something else before she left, but you weren’t really listening.

Hold up… did you like Langdon?

Meanwhile, Dana was busy scolding Frank for his behavior with the patient.

“Come on, Dana, you know I was doing the right thing, standing up to that guy,” Langdon scoffed.

“We all know how annoying that man is, but you can’t threaten a patient!” Dana exclaimed.

“I was only doing what no one else had the guts to do,” he replied. “Ask anyone, they wanted to do the same thing!”

“Come on, Langdon, you’d only be reacting like this if you had feelings for Dr. Y/l/n!”

“I–” Frank stopped. Hold up… he did have feelings for you, strong feelings. “I don’t have feelings for her?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Dana said in a playfully condescending tone before she turned to walk away.

“We’re just friends!” he called out after her.

“Well, your ‘friend’ is in the breakroom if you wanna go talk to her,” Dana said, using air quotes as she continued to walk away.

“Shit,” Langdon mumbled to himself.

“Go,” Robby said to him.

“Huh?”

“Go talk to her, I’ll cover your patients.”

“Thank you.”

“So… that was something,” Langdon said, as he walked into the breakroom and found you staring at the vending machine.

“There are no sour gummy worms in this vending machine,” you pondered out loud, wondering where Langdon had gotten the bag from earlier.

“No, but the one on the second floor has them.”

“You went all the way to the second floor just to make sure I ate something?” you asked.

“Yeah.” Langdon stood in front of you. “There’s a lot I’d do for you.”

“Really?”

“I think I have feelings for you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

“I think it’s exactly what I wanna hear, Frank,” you admitted. “I think I have feelings for you, too.”

“So… what do we do now?”

“You could kiss me, if you wanna.”

His face lit up before he leaned down and kissed you deeply. His hands went to your hips as yours went to his cheeks. You stayed locked in the passionate kiss for what felt like hours before you both broke away.

“I think you might be my best friend,” Langdon whispered, making you smile widely.

“I think you might be my best friend, too, Langdon.”

#dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #the pitt #by mind empty just fictional people #by mind empty just fictional people #by astrid #userastrid #usermindempty #patrick ball

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adreamfromnevermore · 1 year ago

Text

Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.

No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.

Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.

They're the most infuriating bitches around.

They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.

They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.

You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.

In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.

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maybanksprincess · 6 months ago

Text

isnt the same without you.

warnings: comforting, fluff, insecurity, a little bit of blood.

summary: jj goes to a party without reader for the first time, and when jjs phone dies, she starts to overthink. (based off this ask, thank you anon!)

a/n: this is sort of short because its just a blurb, but i really love this request, its so cute!

pairings: insecure!reader x soft!bf!jj

you weren't feeling up to this big party that everyone was attending tonight. unfortunately, you and jj were planning to go for a few weeks now, and since you didn't wanna go, you didn't wanna stop him from attending it as well.

he insisted that he would stay home and look after you, he offered to buy you snacks and even watch those cheesy romcoms that he absolutely despises, but he tolerates them because you love them.

but you assured him it was okay, and he can go even if it made you feel a little uneasy.

you had never done well with being away from jj for long periods of time, let alone him going to a party without you. but you told yourself to 'grow up' and 'stop being a baby' about it. you needed to get a grip.

you decide to text him about an hour in, just to make sure he was safe, and then you promised yourself you would stop bothering him after that.

imessage:

11:01 pm: hey jay! im just checking in to make sure your okay, i dont wanna bother you or anything so im gonna let you have fun! bye i love you <3

you chew your nails, anxiously waiting on a response from your boyfriend.

about five minutes went by, and you were constantly picking up your phone, swiping up for any sign that he had read the text or responded. but there was nothing.

you waited another ten minutes, then got back to anxiously checking it again, still nothing. delivered.

you told yourself your being dramatic, and went to occupy yourself with doing the dishes, and sweeping the kitchen floor. by the time you had gotten back to your room about fifteen minutes later, there was still nothing.

you toss your phone down onto the bed, feeling frustrated but also upset at the same time. had he been hooking up with another girl? is he drinking too much? what if hes talking to someone else?

all these thoughts cloud your mind, and you find yourself biting down on the skin beside your nail bed. as your chewing away at your skin, your phone dings unexpectedly, causing you to jump a bit, tearing a piece of your skin off. (ouch.)

the sting of the bare skin makes your eyes water a little, a bead of blood trickling down your finger. "ow." you mumble, before picking up your phone and looking at whoever texted you.

it was jj. all your pain was instantly forgotten the moment you seen his text on your screen.

imessage

jayj🤍: "hey beautiful, im sorry i didnt text you back. i forgot my charger like a dumbass. but im at home now, and i didnt have fun. it was boring as shit without u baby."

you instantly reply to his message after reading it, your heart no longer feels like its carrying a weight anymore.

you: "thank you for texting, i was worried sick baby...i literally hurt my finger trying to answer the phone. I thought you might've been cheated on me or something."

you send that text with a underlying hint of insecurity in it, hoping he wont just brush you off. your in need of some reassurance from him right now.

jayj🤍: "baby you hurt your finger?!! and what do u mean 'cheat on you'? thats not even possible for me mama."

the next text eases your worries a bit, but you wanted to get everything off your chest.

you: "i just hate being without you for a long period of time, i wish i would've let you stay in with me tonight, but i know how excited you were for the party."

jayj🤍: "oh baby, no. parties are not the same without you. i would never cheat on you, im sorry if i made you feel that way, but that isn't me. you know your stuck with me forever mama, whether you like it or not."

now all your worries and insecurities are instantly gone, touched by your boyfriend's loyalty to you.

after you let yourself think for a moment, you remember the minor injury you caused yourself a few minutes back and wince slightly at the sting.

as if exactly on cue, jj double texts you.

jayj🤍: "oh and im on my way with some bandaids and snacks, i love you baby. unlock the door for me beautiful."

after he sends that text, you hear jjs dirtbike pull up.

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papayacinnabun · 3 months ago

Text

my valentine - oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count - 1.8k

summary - your boyfriend takes you on a special date, and a special ride...

warnings - 18+ mdni, smut, oral f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex

a/n - happy valentines day! oh god i wish i had a rich boyfriend who loved me 😮‍💨 masterlist

sweet.

that's how the bouquet of roses oscar brought you smelled. satisfyingly sweet.

he presented them to you when he picked you up from your apartment, standing dorkily in front of his sleek mclaren 720S. oscar was grinning like a kid in a candy store as he handed them to you, placing a tender kiss on your cheek to not mess up your fresh lipstick.

“you look so beautiful my love.” his praise always made you blush, warm and well-timed.

“thank you baby, you look very dashing yourself.” you stepped back for a moment to admire your boyfriend in his suit, he obviously went all out for the occasion.

“i had to dress up for my valentine of course,” he said as he took your hand to help you into the car. that made you laugh. it sounded so dumb and lovesick that you both treasured valentines day so much, but oscar was someone you wanted to celebrate with all the time if you could.

everyday with him was bliss, and it felt like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. its a rare thing to find someone who understands you completely and expresses themselves without farce, but you truly found that with oscar.

and now almost a year in, you sat across from each other in the candlelight of a swanky monaco restaurant deliberating over what to order.

you looked up from the menu to admire oscar. his brows were knitted together in a thoughtful expression, eyes scanning over the myriad of entree options. he was clearly torn about what to order, making you giggle at his seriousness.

“what are you getting?” oscar asked as he looked up, eager for some help.

“having a bit of trouble there osc?” you croon teasingly, reaching out to rub his hand. he gives you a look that screams ‘hey don’t make fun of me’, and envelopes your small hand in his. “fine, i think i’ll get the salmon. it sounds very good.”

he makes a noise of confirmation and nods his head, bringing his attention back down to the menu. “i’ll get the same, i trust your judgement.”

and that’s how it worked between you. even for the smallest, most trivial things, you just trusted each other.

two hours and some glasses of expensive wine later, you walked out of the restaurant hand in hand.

“that was lovely baby, thank you so much” you mused, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

“i’m glad you enjoyed it, love. i’m thinking we head back to mine and have some cake and watch a movie, how’s that sound?” his hand left yours to rest at your waist, pulling you closer to him. his hand smoothed over the thin fabric of your dress, sending goosebumps all over your skin.

your eyes lit up at the mention of cake, oscar knew it was your favorite dessert. but the tension between you two was even more delicious, oscar’s hand starting a chain reaction of desire in your body.

“sure you don’t want a different type of dessert first?” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, causing a wide grin to break out on his face.

“are you offering?” he asks jokingly, his hand gripping a little tighter at your waist.

you blushed and tugged your bottom lip into your mouth, shrugging playfully as you finally approached the car. it was parked on the street because oscar knew you wouldn’t want to wait for the valet and waste the night.

he opened the door for you, hand only leaving your waist at the last minute to help you in. your dress rode up a bit as you got in the car, the long slit in the fabric exposing the soft skin of your hip a bit. oscar’s eyes darkened, glinting with something new. desire?

he gets in the driver’s seat and starts the engine, his gaze wandering back over to your thigh.

oscar abruptly turns the engine off.

“oh are we not goi-” you start, a bit confused.

“get in the back.” he interrupts, voice low.

“osc you’re out of your mind.” you shake your head, adrenaline steadily coursing through you now.

“i need you now baby, you’re driving me crazy.” he leaned over to look at you, his large hand coming up to rub the inside of your thigh. the feeling made your brain go numb.

“we’re in public!” you whine out, getting a bit frustrated as his hand traveled closer and closer to the lacy edge of your panties.

“don’t worry, the windows are tinted. i’m gonna take care of you beautiful, just need to have you right now.” he whispers, breath sending shivers down your spine. a whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

you finally nod, lust overshadowing your rational thinking. you unzip your dress, shrugging it off to reveal your dark red lace lingerie. oscar’s eyes got wider, unblinking as he looked you over. kicking off your louboutins, you climbed over to the backseat, his needy hands on your waist assisting you.

he looks at you like a wolf does its prey, determined and hungry.

his suit jacket and tie are quickly torn off and abandoned in the driver’s seat as he raced to join you.

immediately his hands were all over you, caressing and groping every inch of your skin like it was the first time he was seeing you.

“hiding this from me? naughty girl. would’ve left the restaurant sooner if i knew. always so pretty for me.” he praised as his lips ghost over your neck, leaving the lightest kisses as he traveled down to your collarbones and over the lacy material of your bra. in one movement he undid the clasp and pulled it off, revealing your supple tits.

oscar moaned at the sight of your perky nipples, running his thumbs back and forth over the peaks. your eyes fluttered closed in bliss, savoring the warmth of his large hands massaging your breasts.

“kiss me, please” you practically begged him, needing to feel his mouth against yours. he didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, soft and gentle at first, but steadily becoming more hurried and messy. he couldn’t get enough of you.

you kissed each other so fiercely, teeth clashing together. your hands reached up to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into your mouth.

“fuck- need- to- taste- you,” he said in between open mouthed kisses to your neck as you squirmed under him. finally his fingers wander down between your legs, rubbing your aching clit over the red lace. you gasp as he pushes the fabric aside and dips into your wetness, collecting it with his fingers. he stares into your eyes as he lewdly sucks his digits clean of your juices.

oscar gives you no time to react, leaning down to lick a stripe up your folds. your mouth falls open in bliss as he wraps his lips around your sensitive clit, sucking lightly.

he expertly maneuvers his tongue, eating your pussy like a man starved. he hooks his arms under your thighs to pull them over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “sweetest little pussy all for me,” he breathes out quickly, barely wasting a moment before diving back into your slicked folds.

your back arches off the leather seats, feeling the familiar buildup of your release. his hold on your hips tightens as his tongue circles tantalizingly over your puffy clit, before closing his lips around the bud.

“please… wanna cum,” you whimper out as his tongue delves inside you, nose bumping up against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you shamelessly rock your hips up against his face for more friction, earning a groan from oscar that reverberates through your core.

“give it to me baby” oscar encourages, speeding up his movements. a choked sob travels up your throat, your orgasm ripping through you harshly. your pussy clenches around nothing as oscar greedily laps at your release, finishing by pressing small kisses to your thigh.

“gonna let me fuck your pretty cunt now? make you cum all over my cock too baby?” you were already flustered from your orgasm, but his words made you blush even more. brain too fuzzy to speak, you just gave him a desperate nod and reached up to fumble with his belt.

oscar chuckles as he helps you unbuckle it, all while keeping your legs hoisted over his broad shoulders. finally he frees himself from his boxers, his hard cock smacking against your stomach. he guided his tip to your entrance, toying with your puffy clit before slipping inside. rubbing your hip reassuringly as he pressed in inch by inch. oscar was big. he filled you up completely, your tight cunt struggling to accommodate all of him.

“you can move osc, feels good” you practically cry out, pussy fluttering around his length. he leans down to kiss you passionately, beginning to thrust his hips at a steady pace. curses fall from his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth envelopes him completely over and over again.

“i love you so much baby,” he professes, hands digging into the soft flesh of your tits. you bring your hands up to his face, stroking his cheeks softly with your thumbs.

“i love you more,” you gasp as he picks up his pace, the sound of slapping skin filling the car. he fucked you harder, practically bending you in half as he drills into your perfect cunt. his cock hit the deepest parts inside of you, your orgasm slowly building up again.

“oh god i’m almost there,” you cry out as you approach your peak, hands grasping his strong biceps for support. every inch of your body was on fire, pure pleasure coursing through your veins. only oscar could make you feel this way, so loved and filthy at the same time. it was uninhibited ecstasy.

you scream his name as your orgasm sends waves of shock through your body, your cunt pulsing as oscar thrusts into you deeper through the high.

“so beautiful baby i’m almost there. shit, you take me so perfectly, gonna cum inside your pretty pussy.” he slurs, drunk on pleasure. just seeing you fall apart brought him even closer to the edge, his restraint falling apart.

“fill me up osc, wanna feel you” you urge breathlessly, whining as your overstimulated clit brushes against his skin. his movements grow ragged, slowing down as he thrusts one final time and releases inside you. your name falls from his lips as his hot cum paints your walls, filling your needy cunt. his cock throbs as he pulls out, hissing at the sensitivity.

“you alright love? that was unreal” he praises as he kisses your forehead gently.

“mhm” you nod tiredly, watching as cum leaks out from your hole, “shit we made such a mess on these nice seats.”

oscar lets out a laugh and guides you to sit up leaning against him for stability, “definitely worth it love.”

“it was amazing, but i still want my cake you promised.” you pout, rubbing his face tenderly.

“of course, my valentine. but lets take a breather before we drive back, you took everything out of me.”

602 notes · View notes

luvergirl-535 · 4 months ago

Text

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. ��Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #wcbb #wbb #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut #pazzi smut #lilah’s works #that’s so true pt 2

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