#but man im ready to start a new chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pazziescapism · 1 month ago

Text

Break Our Ice - Chapter 4

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 12.1k

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: HI GUYS!! i am truly sorry for the wait i have no idea why this chapter took me so long, honestly this is definitely my least favourite chapter and sorry if it seems choppy i took out and rearranged heaps of scenes i don't watch ice skating or ice hockey so i didn't really think about how i would write about it... AHAH anyway i guess this is kinda the last chapter?? i think id be down to do some bonus ones but i am working on something new so we will see, again thank you for reading! ps, did u see that wc?? 12k, yes im very proud

Someone is pulling Azzi to the side, a hand digging into the meat of her upper arm, hard enough to bruise. She’s having a hard time registering anything over the noise and lights. It feels like there’s a hundred people surrounding her, pushing her off to the side, crushing her by the borders.

Then the crowd falls away, and Paige’s in front of her looking harried. The press continues to shout from the side, the noise a little quieter now that they’ve moved, a crowd of people in front of them like a barricade.

“Ah, man,” Ice says, next to the two of them. “Bad luck.”

“I’ve got to go back out and do press,” Paige says, and she looks upset, running a hand jerkily through her hair. “Can you get someone to take Azzi out the back way?”

“It’s only the tabloids,” Azzi says and stays where she is. The situation is mixing badly with the insecurity in her chest, her head. Something selfish and angry has taken up residency in her, curling and twisting unpleasantly.

“That’s the problem,” Paige says, not even looking at her, her face scanning the crowd, like she’s already searching for a way to get Azzi away.

Like a picture of them together would be something so dreadful.

“They’re already here,” Azzi points out, not moving. “Who cares if they get a picture or two?”

Paige frowns. She’s gotten fully ready to act within seconds, Azzi’s coat clutched in her hands. “They’ll come to the wrong conclusions,” she says, and Azzi’s heart sinks.

The unpleasant feelings in her stomach give a sharp twist, and Azzi feels herself smile and knows it must look off.

“As long as they’re here,” she whispers, leaning in closer to Paige. “Let’s give them a show.”

Paige’s eyes drop to her lips, like Azzi knew they would; for an instant, their faces are inches apart. She hears someone yell, and the camera’s go off again, too many bright lights to see, photographers moving around the crowd in front of them to get a picture. Paige steps fully away from her, panicked expression twisting into something sharper.

“For fuck’s sake, Azzi,” Paige says, viciously angry, and Azzi steps back too, taken aback by the reaction.

“I didn’t mean to,” she starts, and she isn’t sure what she didn’t mean to do so she lets that sentence trail off and starts again. “I didn’t mean it.”

This doesn’t seem to make Paige feel much better, judging by the volume of her retort, her eyes angrier than Azzi’s ever seen them, as she shoves Azzi’s jacket into her arms. “You can’t just fuck around with my life when you get bored. Those pictures are going to be everywhere by tomorrow.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Azzi says back, her face burning hot with what might be anger, or might be shame. She’s off-balance, tilting too far one way and then the next. I don’t understand, she wants to yell. She wants, selfish as it seems, for Paige to understand her, without Azzi having to explain.

Is it that awful to be seen with me? Azzi thinks, her head buzzing miserably.

Ice’s got her by the arm, then and they’re both heading down a dark little hallway, leading out to the parking lot.

“I practice here too,” Azzi snaps, and yanks her arm away. Her jacket is gripped in her arms, and the jersey suddenly feels tight and humiliating on her skin. “I know the way.”

Ice doesn’t seem to take offense, which makes Azzi feel worse, just nods good-naturedly, her head ducked to avoid stray cameras. “That makes sense.”

Azzi swallows, hard. “I’m sorry,” she says, and that at least, is sincere.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ice tells her, and then hesitates as they exit out into the employee’s only section of the parking lot. Someone must have told Caroline, because Azzi can see her car heading towards them. “Hey, and- um, Paige just kind of hates cameras more than the rest of us, so, I mean, try not to-”

“Whatever,” Azzi says, cutting her off. She doesn’t really need the reminder.

It’s freezing outside, thick dark clouds rolling over the sky, threatening snow at any minute. Azzi shivers, and then steps away from Ice as Caroline pulls up, nodding goodbye stiffly.

To Caroline’s credit, she doesn’t ask any questions as Azzi angrily peels the jersey off the second they get onto the road, leaving her in only the thin sweater she had been wearing underneath. For good measure, she throws it on the floor and stomps on it, her dirty sneakers creating a bizarre black mark over the fabric, before throwing it to the back of the car.

She considers slipping on the jacket, which at least doesn’t have Paige’s name written on it, but the image of Paige’s white knuckles around it as she tried to usher Azzi out as quickly as possible rises to mind and she chucks it to the back too.

“So,” Caroline says casually, reaching over to turn the heating up in the car. “After game jitters?”

“Fuck you,” Azzi says bitterly. “Actually, fuck her. Let’s turn around so I can go slash her tires.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Caroline says, like a hint.

“No,” Azzi says. “I already told you what I wanted to do, but you missed the turn.”

White flurries are starting to drift down outside the window, the wind picking up speed. Some of the flakes drift against the glass, individual specks so that Azzi can get a brief glimpse of the small symmetrical patterns making up each snowflake before they melt away against the window.

“I’ve been trying so hard to make her like me,” Azzi says suddenly, into the quiet of the car, “and she doesn’t.”

“I’m sure she does,” Caroline says, accepting this too, without question.

“She was such an asshole, just now,” Azzi seethes. “It’s one picture, will the world end? Will the sky fall?”

“I’m sure you already know this,” Caroline says, “but it was probably a bigger deal to her than it was to you.”

“I piss her off all the time,” Azzi points out. The anger is separating into hurt, a needle digging under the skin of her ribs. “She’s never reacted like that.”

Caroline doesn’t respond to this, as they pull into their neighbourhood. “You want to come over?” She offers. “Kaitlyn’s away for the day.”

Azzi is still considering this when her phone rings in her pocket, making her jump. She keeps meaning to set it to vibrate. She looks at the caller ID and considers hanging up. It would make her feel good, she reasons, give her a little vindictive pleasure. She’s aware of Caroline’s eyes still on her.

“Yes?” She says tersely, answering the phone.

“Hey,” Paige’s voice sounds a little hoarse on the other end. “I ditched the press conference. I’m on my way home. I thought, maybe we could talk?”

Azzi stares out the window. The temperature’s dropped fast, and the wind has picked up, white snow starting to cover the sidewalks, clinging to the window and the windshield.

“Talk about what?” She asks, forcing herself to lean back against the seat.

“Um,” Paige says. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like- I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology, Paige,” Azzi says coldly. “I want to finally lay this humiliating chapter of my life to rest.”

“Azzi,” Paige says. “We won’t get anywhere if you refuse to talk about it.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Azzi snaps. Her split lip stings as she speaks, newly scabbed over skin starting to split again. “We were never going anywhere to begin with.”

There’s a silence over the phone, only Paige’s breath filling the space, still so fucking steady. “You don’t mean that,” she says finally, voice charged with a bone-deep tiredness.

“This was always temporary,” Azzi says, always clawing her nails into wounds that are already bleeding, both her own and other people’s. “Sorry that you thought otherwise.”

“Fine,” Paige says into the phone, frustration jagged in her voice. “The dating part is fake, yeah, but- Christ, Azzi- I thought we were at least friends.”

Azzi is breathing too fast, too heavy. She wants to cry. She wants to scream some more. She wants to put her head on Paige’s shoulder and just breathe in the familiar smell of her, until they’re in sync again, inhaling and exhaling in the same rhythm. She doesn’t want to be friends.

“Go home, Paige,” she says, and feels the cavity in her chest split open a little further. There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, so vulnerable it nearly rips her determination into shreds. The next thing she hears is the dial tone.

The car is horribly silent. Azzi doesn’t look, but the sound of Caroline’s disapproval is nearly audible.

“Don’t start,” Azzi moans. “I just- fuck, do you think I fucked up?”

Caroline is quiet for a moment, long enough for Azzi to turn and see hesitation lining her face.

“I think you would feel better if you were honest about your feelings,” she says finally. “Even if it doesn’t end up getting you what you want.”

Azzi lets her fingers fall, tracing over the material of her sweatpants. “It was going so well too,” she says, trying not to sound like she’s whining, and not quite succeeding.

“It’s not a real relationship, though,” Caroline says, and Azzi’s head snaps up in irritation.

“Thank you for that,” she says, curt. “Exactly what I needed to hear.”

“What I mean is,” Caroline sighs and then starts over. “It’s not real. It’s easy to have a great relationship if you don’t have as much to lose. You’ve been living in fantasyland.”

“This is like, the most unhelpful you have ever been,” Azzi tells her. “And that is saying something.”

“All I’m saying is, if you want to have a relationship with her after this whole thing is over-”

“I don’t,” Azzi interrupts, and Caroline closes her eyes like this whole thing is horrible for her, personally.

“Sure. But if you do, you need to figure out whether this is all it’s going to take before you give up.

“Ugh,” Azzi says. She glares out the window again. The snow is starting to blow in heavy gusts outside, and when Caroline parks, she can see that it’s piling up on the staircase leading up to their building. The snowfall is starting to pick up speed, thick, soft heaps of white beginning to form, deep enough to get in your shoes, sink into your socks.

The cab driver stops before turning into the long, narrow street leading to Paige’s building, and tells Azzi that with the current road conditions, she’ll either have to pay extra or walk the rest of the way. Azzi looks at the storm starting to rage outside, the snow swirling on strong winds, until she can barely see anything other than white through the window. She looks at the still-running meter. She decides to walk.

About thirty seconds in, she’s regretting it. She didn’t bring a jacket with her, so the snow is flying everywhere, landing in any available gaps in her clothes and melting into ice cold water on contact with skin. Her feet are suffering the worst, the snow piling up inside her shoes, melting and then piling up again until she can’t feel her toes anymore.

“Paige,” she says when she reaches the building, hitting the buzzer for Paige’s apartment. “Paige, if you don’t let me in, I’ll die. I’ll die, seriously.”

“Azzi?” Paige says over the intercom, static blurring her voice, and she says something that sounds like a question, but the locked door clicks and unlocks, and Azzi misses the words as she shuffles eagerly into the heated building.

It’s only once she’s in the elevator, a minute away from Paige’s door that she realizes that she has no plan, she’s forgotten her speech, and the snow collected in her hair and clothing has melted, leaving her sopping wet and creating a puddle of dirty water where she’s standing.

It’s all she can do to keep herself standing when Paige opens the door, her eyes widening as she takes in Azzi, sniffling only a little pathetically in her doorway, soaked to the bone in a thin sweater and sweatpants.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, before Paige has the chance to say anything. “I didn’t mean to say- I just- we are friends and I want to keep being friends and I don’t want to fake break-up, and I’m a really terrible fake-girlfriend, but I want to keep being your terrible fake-girlfriend.”

Paige’s mouth opens. Closes again. She seems, for the first time since Azzi’s met her, to be at a total and complete loss for words.

“And I’m sorry for pushing it about the picture thing,” Azzi continues nervously. A patch of melting snow is sliding down her back. “I didn’t want to- You hurt my feelings, a little, so I wanted to hurt your feelings and now I feel bad about that-”

“You are the dumbest person alive,” Paige says, and she grabs Azzi’s wrist and yanks her inside.

She closes the door behind them, almost as an afterthought, her hands fluttering over Azzi’s body, her fingers, her neck, her cheek, bringing a moment of blissful warmth wherever they land. “You’re shaking, Jesus Christ. How far did you walk like this? There’s a blizzard warning out, are you stupid?”

Azzi peels her shoes off and then stands in the entranceway, unsure of where to go or what to say, her hair dripping water onto her already wet socks.

“Unbelievable,” Paige is saying, already halfway across the living room before she realizes Azzi isn’t following. “Go, sit,” she says, and gestures at the stools across the kitchen counter.

Azzi obediently takes a seat.

It isn’t long before Paige returns to stand in front of her with a towel in her hands, and chucks it over Azzi’s wet hair, her hands scrubbing at it like she’s planning on taking Azzi’s whole head off.

“What is wrong with you?” Paige is asking her, though it seems to be rhetorical, her hands still busy drying Azzi’s hair, none too gently. “No jacket, no scarf, not even any decent shoes. Did you look outside before you decided to come running to apologize? You know how long it takes to get frostbite?-”

“Paige,” Azzi interrupts and Paige stops, both the lecture and the scrubbing, tilting Azzi’s face up so their eyes meet. Azzi’s tongue flattens at the expectant look in her eyes, and it’s with considerable effort that she manages to start again. “Paige, you forgive me, right?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Paige looks absolutely floored by the words out of Azzi’s mouth. Azzi can’t explain it to herself, any more than she can explain it to Paige, but she needs to hear the words, needs to see the shape of them in Paige’s mouth.

“Yes,” Paige says finally. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I know,” Azzi says, a shaky smile lifting the edges of her mouth.

Paige doesn’t move for a second, just watches Azzi, her green eyes contemplative. Then she starts drying Azzi’s hair again, a gentler set to her mouth, if not to her technique.

“You have qualifiers in a couple days,” she continues, as if nothing had happened, Azzi’s neck aching from the directions it’s being pushed and pulled in. “What would you have done if you’d gotten sick? Would you have sat out? Idiot.”

“I would have won anyway,” Azzi mumbles, a little guiltily, and then screeches at a particularly rough yank on her head. “But I won’t if I go bald! Paige!”

“Oops,” Paige says, not sounding very regretful. “Was that one too much?”

“Obviously, you fucking-” Azzi wails as Paige does it again. “Paige, my hair!”

Paige snickers, and pulls the towel away completely, tossing it into Azzi’s lap. “Drop this off in the laundry. And find some clean clothes and take a warm shower. I’ll get you some hot water with lemon and honey, so you don’t catch a cold. Silly girl.”

Azzi doesn’t answer, busy trying to feel her aching scalp for possible bald patches.

“Don’t worry,” Paige tells her, pushing her off the stool. “I promise you’re still pretty.”

Azzi whips around, beaming, ignoring Paige’s increasingly forceful attempts to shove her in the direction of the laundry room. “You think I’m pretty, Paige?”

She says it as half a joke, mostly expecting Paige to roll her eyes and push her away. It catches her by surprise when Paige’s expression softens instead, as she reaches up to push a strand of damp hair behind Azzi’s ear, the pad of her fingertip brushing softly over the shell of Azzi’s ear.

“You’re very pretty,” she says indulgently, her hand falling back to her side, Azzi staring at her wide-eyed. “Even when you’re at my door looking like a drowned puppy.”

Azzi goes to take a shower without further comment.

When she pads out, significantly calmer, in barefeet and a soft bathrobe, Paige is squeezing some lemon into a glass, the hot water creating condensation along the sides of the glass, fogging it up. It tastes honey-sweet going down Azzi’s throat, warming her up where the heat of the shower didn’t reach.

She feels warmer still when Paige presses her up against the kitchen counter, rough hands slipping inside the bathrobe, spreading across her back, as she licks into Azzi’s mouth like she can taste the remnants of honey and lemon lingering on Azzi’s tongue.

“Your lip is bleeding,” she murmurs, pulling away from Azzi, kissing the corner of her mouth in apology. “Sorry.”

Azzi licks over her lower lip, tastes metal in her mouth and grimaces. “Oops.”

Paige is already grabbing a tissue, and running it under the tap. She squeezes water out into the drain and presses the damp tissue to Azzi’s mouth, wiping away where the blood has smeared. Azzi winces at the contact, and Paige holds her chin between a finger and a thumb, keeping her in place. “Stay still, baby.”

Baby, Azzi thinks delightedly, lets the sound echo inside her brain. She’s still thinking about the word choice when she realizes Paige’s stepped away.

“Does it hurt?”

Azzi blinks. “Huh?”

Paige stares at her. Azzi stares back.

“Your lip?” Paige prompts, after it becomes clear that Azzi won’t be answering, a small smile playing at her own mouth. “It’s bleeding.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. She’s lost it. “Yes. The lip. It was bleeding. Still bleeding?”

Paige just looks at her, her eyes blinking slowly, like Azzi is the most fascinating person in the world. If this was anyone else, Azzi thinks, she would probably be embarrassed. But Paige just smiles at her, and Azzi can only muster up the smallest hint of sheepishness at being caught out so directly.

“Yes,” she amends, and wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. “It hurts lots. Kiss it better.”

Paige groans, her hands landing on Azzi’s shoulders, resisting her attempts to pull them back together. “You are insufferable. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Azzi says again, honestly, and she nudges her cold nose into the space between Paige’s shoulder and collarbone, drinks in the smell of Paige’s perfume (which she thinks is actually a cologne) “But here you are. Suffering.”

Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s and hold eye contact, her face unreadable. Then she sighs. “You have no idea.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to make of this insult that doesn’t sound like an insult. She doesn’t respond, she presses cold feet against Paige’s shin in retaliation, grinning at her put-out expression.

“I can’t believe your toes didn’t fall off,” she says, and tugs Azzi over to her fireplace using the belt on her borrowed robe.

Azzi settles cross-legged in front of the blazing heat, lets it sweep over her back, feeling thrillingly, deliriously happy, sparks running up her still damp skin, making her heart beat faster in her chest.

“What do you look so happy about?” Paige asks, when Azzi grabs her and tugs her closer. She goes willingly, her head settling in Azzi’s lap, wincing as Azzi’s cold hands come around to pull at her cheeks.

“I’ve accepted my fate,” Azzi tells her.

“Your fate as what, exactly?” Paige says, the words mumbled as Azzi tugs on her face.

Azzi doesn’t answer, just leans forward and plants a kiss on her forehead, right above the bridge of her nose.

Has Paige’s New Relationship Gone Cold? Hockey Player ‘Iced Out’ by Figure Skating Fling!

Azzi’s Out On Her Ass! ‘Hit the Slopes!’ Says Paige! “On Thin Ice” Says Exclusive Source.

Azzi, Cold on the Ice, Colder in Bed?! Insider Sources Speak Out About Skating Couple’s Frigid Romance!

“Kaitlyn,” Azzi says, interrupting Kaitlyn’s dramatic reading. “You could read these in your head.”

“Good literature deserves to be shared,” Kaitlyn tells her, and holds up a new one. “A source close to the couple reveals the relationship has been on the rocks for months. Did you know that?”

“Where are they getting all these sources from?” Azzi wonders out loud.

“Beats me,” Kaitlyn says mournfully. “I’ve been calling offices all day to tell them you’ve got mad cow disease. Nobody even cares.”

Azzi pauses, looking up from the suitcase she’s packing at Kaitlyn, who’s draped over her bed. “You know humans can’t get mad cow disease, right?”

Kaitlyn, who is ostensibly meant to be helping Azzi pack, stops flipping through tabloids to look at Azzi, horrified. “Are you serious? I’ve wasted so many phone calls, man.”

“It’s literally called cow disease,” Azzi says, and Kaitlyn is still complaining when the door swings open, creaky hinges announcing Caroline’s arrival.

“There was a whole section about you guys on my way home. Like a whole section of a newsstand with just your faces on it,” she calls, already halfway into Azzi’s apartment. Azzi does not remember giving her a key.

“Did you bring any back?” Kaitlyn asks, already bounding up in excitement.

“Breaking!” Caroline reads, walking into the bedroom. She hasn’t changed out of the branded shirt she wears to work, a cartoonish smiling skull peering down at Azzi from under her own face, pressed against Paige’s on a magazine cover, bold lettering over their bodies. “Azzi, Withholding Her ‘Icicle’ From New Girlfriend?! ‘Not Until Marriage’ New Sources Report.”

“Who is writing these?” Azzi asks in amazement.

“And who is doing their fact-checking?” Kaitlyn says, peering down at the page over Caroline’s shoulder. “They should be fired.”

“Are you guys breaking up?” Caroline asks, and both her and Kaitlyn are staring at Azzi, expressions nauseatingly similar. “I need to know where to place my bets.”

“How’s the casual sex going for you?” Kaitlyn adds, looking irritatingly knowing. “Still no feelings?”

Azzi looks back down at her suitcase. It’s too full. If she adds anything else to it, she won’t be able to get it closed, but she hasn’t even packed any clothes yet. “No,” she says to the peanut gallery, an answer to both questions. She adds her folded clothes and takes the performance makeup out. She can probably put that in the carry-on.

“I’m starting a six-year plan to make her fall in love with me,” she says casually. “Can one of you come help me close this?”

“I love being friends with you,” Kaitlyn says, neither of them moving. “Every decision you make is worse than the last. Like a slow-motion car crash. Thrilling.”

“Why is it taking her six years to fall in love with you?” Caroline asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says. “At the end of the six years we get married. The suitcase?”

“Thrilling,” Kaitlyn repeats, and comes over to plant her full body weight on top of the suitcase so that Azzi can zip it closed.

Azzi is staggeringly drunk. Mind-bendingly drunk. Everything is swirling into pieces around her and then swirling back together, the noise pounding in her eardrums reverberating through her entire body. It’s loud, sweaty, hot, crowded. The smell of alcohol is stinging her nose, a too-expensive bottle of champagne still staining her clothes, sticky where it touches her skin.

Every now and then, the realization comes back to her and then she’s smiling again, her cheeks aching with the force of it, her throat raw from screaming.

“I made it!” She yells to Caroline. The two of them are so close together but her voice is carried off in the noise regardless, and she can see Caroline blink as she tries to process.

Then Caroline is grinning back at her, just as wide. “We made it!” She yells back, and Azzi throws her head back to laugh, giddy.

Someone pulls her away and Azzi goes willingly, out of her mind with joy and nearly deaf from the music.

The quiet of the evening, when she stumbles outside, is an ice-cold shock. The sudden stillness surrounding her, the indiscernible noise of screaming teenagers in the background. It had been a struggle to extricate herself, a tugging push and pull until she made it out into the night air. She’s pressing the call button before she can talk herself out of it.

“Azzi?” She hears Paige say, only a dark blurry shape on the small screen of her phone. There’s rustling movement, the click of a lamp, and then Paige’s face is peering blearily at her, illuminated by soft yellow light. “Are you wearing bunny ears?”

“I think I got them from a fetish store!” Azzi tells her, and it’s only when Paige flinches away from the phone screen that she realizes she had been yelling. She lowers her voice abashedly. “They wouldn’t let you in without a costume,” she whispers, like she’s letting Paige in on a secret. “But I didn’t have one.”

Paige falls back and Azzi can hear her laugh tiredly, voice still gravelly with sleep. She must have set the phone down, because all Azzi can see now is the ceiling of the hotel Paige must be staying at. Her team had left for a series of away games, both of them now far from home.

“Paige,” she says to the ceiling. “I can’t see your face anymore.” Her words are starting to blur together, but she can’t concentrate enough to pull them back apart.

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige mutters, and there’s another rustle before her face returns, now with headphones. “Are you out celebrating?”

The word celebrating reminds Azzi why she called to begin with and she beams back at the camera, exhilarated once again. “I made it! I’m going to the Olympics!”

Paige is laughing again, though Azzi isn’t sure why. “I know,” she says. “You texted me.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. Then, “What did I say?”

“Um,” Paige says, and then her video is paused. “Hang on. You said ‘i made it’ and then ‘Olympics baby’ and then ‘can alcohol absorb through your skin?’ and then there were a bunch of letters.”

“Oh,” Azzi says again. “What did you say?”

Paige’s face returns to the camera once more, her smile fonder than usual, the planes of her face carved out soft in the mellow light. “I knew you’d make it.”

Azzi thinks that if it’s possible to be crushed by sheer affection, she’s feeling it now, a building pressure in her chest that pulls her accelerating heartbeat back to ground level.

“Thank you.” Now that she’s calmer, she notices for the first time how Paige’s eyes are fluttering closed, how her voice is sleep-rough, and she feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Paige says, clearly lying. “I couldn't sleep anyway.”

“Liar.” There’s that soft, tired laugh again, and the phone shifts to a view of the ceiling again, like Paige has set it down beside her. Azzi can hear the sound of her breathing, each breath slipping slowly into a steady rhythm.

“S’Okay,” Paige mumbles. “I like the sound of your voice.”

This is enough to stun Azzi back into silence. Her brain feels slippery from how much she’s had to drink, the hot pink lighting of the club she had been in still dancing across her feet, a glimmering haze over her field of vision. She’s so aware, all of a sudden, of how cold the night air is, biting into exposed skin, how tightly the headband of the bunny ears is pressing into her scalp, of the hair falling over her forehead- of how much love is piling up inside her, scrubbing her raw and threatening to drown her under its weight.

If Paige liked the sound of her voice, Azzi would read her a novel, would read her a dictionary, would write her a new love letter every morning and recite it to her every night.

As it is, she whispers into the phone, “Goodnight, Paige,” and lets herself wait five full seconds before hanging it back up.

That night Azzi crashes on the sofa of a hotel suite she could have never afforded by herself, legs too wobbly to make it to a bed. She doesn’t sleep, she just lies there, the bright glow of her phone across her face the only light in the dark room, and she drafts drunken texts and deletes them, writing out confessions she’ll never send.

Are you still awake? She writes to Paige, and deletes it.

Good luck tomorrow.

Recently, you’ve been in all of my dreams. Do you think that means something?

I wish you had been here today.

In a hazy space of her brain, it starts to register to Azzi that this is possibly a little bit embarrassing. She doesn’t feel embarrassed- she feels giddy in a way she hasn’t for years, caught up in the middle-school thrill of having a crush, something that reminds her of drafts of love letters on pink stationary, of leaving gifts in lockers and roses on desks. It’s the indulgent happiness of allowing herself to get caught up in the push and pull before a relationship, both of them on edge, neither willing to slip first.

It’s enough, she tells herself. For now, it’s enough. They’ll have time.

The sun is just beginning to set when Azzi walks back to her apartment days later, a plastic bag of groceries crinkling in one hand, the other holding Paige’s hand. The heat is starting to return after a long winter, and there’s sweat collecting between their hands, but neither one moves to disentangle their fingers.

“You don’t have a fucking clue,” Paige is saying heatedly, and Azzi scoffs but doesn’t interrupt. “You have no idea how much I’ve suffered because of this. It’s the worst possible-”

“Not the worst,” Azzi interjects. “I’ll take a lot but I won’t let you lie to me right now-”

“It is the worst, it’s the laziest way out, it never makes sense, it creates so many plot holes-”

“I think it’s fun and creative,” Azzi says, and passes the bag of groceries to Paige, who takes them unquestioningly, as Azzi fumbles one-handed with the lock. “And the plot holes wouldn’t exist if you didn’t think about them.”

“That’s the target audience,” Paige says grimly, as Azzi pulls her into her apartment via their connected hands. “People who don’t think. Like you.”

“Time travel is an old, respected, trope,” Azzi says. “Just because you don’t understand it-”

“Boo!” Paige says, setting the bag of groceries onto the counter. She starts unloading them without Azzi asking her to, taking out the eggs to place them into the fridge, not even pausing in the flow of conversation. “There’s nothing to understand, because it sucks.”

“Not enough things getting blown up for you?” Azzi asks snidely, and pulls out a cardboard pink box, wrapped with matching pink ribbon before Paige can respond. “Are you ready for your present?”

Paige comes to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to pull at the strings of ribbon and pouting when Azzi slaps it away. “I don’t know why you had to make me stand outside the bakery. It’s not like I can’t guess it’s a cake.”

“Hush,” Azzi says. “As long as it’s not open, it could be anything.”

They had only had Valentine’s Day cakes available at the bakery, so when Paige opens the box, it’s to a mess of pink and red frosting over a small heart-shaped cake. In cursive script over the top, white lettering reads ‘C U @ O.V.’

“They were charging per letter,” Azzi says. “O.V. stands for-”

“Olympic Village,” Paige says, grinning. “I get it. I love it.”

Azzi beams at her. Paige had cleared the team selections for the national team yesterday, when she had still been away for a game. She had made it back last night, the pair of them reuniting for a private celebration that left bruises that ached pleasantly along Azzi’s hips, her chest, her thighs.

“Here,” Paige says, in a suspiciously innocuous tone. “Taste.”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “What-”

Paige runs her finger through the icing as Azzi starts talking and then sticks her finger into Azzi’s open mouth.

Azzi clamps her teeth down around the finger immediately, glaring at Paige. She’s hoping the look in her eyes communicates something like a threat, like I could bite through your finger like a carrot right now and not holy shit, I want to eat you out. It’s always so hard to figure out the line between the two with Paige.

Paige tries to pull her finger away, teasingly, and her eyes widen as Azzi bites down a little harder.

“Hang on,” she says, her wrist falling a little limp. “I’m trying to figure out if this is turning me on or not.”

Giving in is against Azzi’s principles but this is beginning to seem torturous, so she lets her mouth close, keeping her teeth back to let her lips close gently over the first knuckle. Paige makes a strangled noise and it feels like victory.

“Yeah. Definitely turned on,” she says decisively.

Azzi can’t speak, just swirls her tongue around the pad of her finger, tastes sugar and strawberries, lets it dissolve in her mouth, relishes in the way Paige’s lips tug up in exasperated acceptance.

She’s thinking of abandoning the cake entirely and starting up those celebrations over again, or maybe just dropping to her knees in the kitchen, when the doorbell rings.

“Ugh,” Azzi says, pulling away reluctantly, turning toward the door.

She’s stopped by the firm grasp of Paige’s hand around her jaw, bringing Azzi’s face back to her own. Azzi thinks about complaining about the hand Paige’s using to do it, feeling her own spit touching her cheek, sticky and off-putting and gripping hard enough to bruise.

But Paige’s lips are already on her, tongue slipping into Azzi’s mouth with a proprietary confidence that makes Azzi’s hands clench tight around the edge of the countertop, keeping her on her feet.

The doorbell rings again, and Paige pulls away with a sigh and a wet parting of mouths, Azzi’s eyes fluttering back open in slight shock.

Paige is watching her lips, looking all too pleased with herself. “Yum,” she says, letting go of Azzi’s jaw with a pat on the cheek and a wink. “Strawberry.”

The doorbell rings for a third time, aggressive in how long it lasts, like the person outside is leaning on it, impatient.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches slightly at the noise but she steps fully away from Azzi, looking entirely regretful at her own actions. “Tell them to go away” her eyes flicking down to Azzi’s lips meaningfully.

“Stop saying words,” Azzi says, flustered beyond measure, and tries not to rush to the door in order to do exactly as told.

She opens the door, flushed and still half-laughing, the remnants of a smile on her face fading away as she sees Jayden outside her apartment, still in that ugly fucking coat, the human personification of a cockblock.

“Yes?” Azzi asks, leaning against the door. She doesn’t want Jayden taking a step inside. She doesn’t want Jayden here at all, encroaching on a moment Azzi was enjoying, his presence a reminder of a truth Azzi would rather forget. She very selfishly hopes Paige doesn’t see him. She wants Paige to forget about Jayden all together, forget that two of them had ever been together for a reason that wasn’t so they could watch old science fiction and argue about director’s cuts.

“Just thought I’d drop by,” Jayden says. “You’re not going to let me in?”

“I’m a little busy,” Azzi says coolly. “You should really text first.”

“Busy?” He’s smiling a condescending little smile that makes Azzi’s eyebrow twitch. “You aren’t at practice?”

“I’m hanging out with my girlfriend.” If she places more emphasis than is strictly necessary on the last word- well.

If Jayden is surprised to hear this, he covers for it well, only a slight blotchy red flush to his cheeks giving away a reaction. “I thought- I heard that you’d broken up?”

“Been reading a lot of tabloids recently?” Azzi drawls, letting her head fall to rest on her door frame.

“You haven’t brought her around for dinner,” Jayden counters, still mostly placid. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“We’ve both been busy,” Azzi says, eyes narrowed. “It’s the season for it.”

Jayden smiles a little wider and it feels like an accusation. “I’m sure my dad would love to meet her.”

They will never find your body, Azzi says with her eyes.

With her mouth she says, “We’ll see you guys Wednesday.”

Once the articles had come out, it had become impossible to ignore Geno’s hints about meeting her new girlfriend. Azzi hadn’t expected to be able to avoid it for long but she had gotten away with it for longer than she expected.

She didn’t know how she felt about the dinner now that it had arrived. Somewhere inside her, something was screaming that this was too serious, too much, too fast. That the unsteady foundation of their little show couldn’t hold up under any more serious inspection. Another part was screaming that Azzi hadn’t been acting for a long time.

A month and a half had passed easily under the guise of their fake relationship. A month and a half, so much time and almost none at all.

At no point during those forty-five days had she prepared herself for seeing Paige waiting in her apartment for her to finish getting ready, complaining on Azzi’s terrible couch, wearing a white sweater, the thick knitted pattern against the pale of her skin.

She’s used to seeing Paige in sharp angles and hard muscles. Like this she looks almost soft. Huggable.

“I bet you’re just a natural-born parent pleaser, aren’t you?” Azzi says, eyeing the gentle cling of the fabric to her shoulders.

“What are you ever talking about?” Paige responds. “Come on, I brought some flowers and they’re going to wilt if we don’t hurry.”

“Flowers,” Azzi says, to herself, as Paige takes her hand and drags her along. “Of course she brought flowers.”

“Listen,” Azzi says, once the two of them are in the elevator heading down to the main floor. “We need to bring our best game tonight.”

Paige does not seem to be listening, her eyebrows a little furrowed as she responds to a text on her phone. Azzi can feel her blood pressure spike.

“Paige,” she says, and Paige’s head lifts immediately, the look she sends Azzi endearingly nervous. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a competition,” Azzi continues, very seriously. “And if I lose to Jayden of all people, I’m killing you and then myself.”

Paige slides her phone into her back pocket as the elevator doors open, and takes Azzi’s hand again instead, pulling them both towards where her car is parked. Her thumb is tracing small circles over the back of Azzi’s palm, a motion that she assumes is meant to be calming. Insultingly, it works, the tense slope of Azzi’s shoulders relaxing into a less rigid line.

“It’s fine,” Paige says. “I’m sure we’ll nail it.”

“That’s a lot of baseless confidence,” Azzi says. “Especially for someone who can’t lie.”

Paige only sends her that familiar exasperated look as she starts the car, like she can see right through Azzi’s bullshit but likes her anyway. Azzi smiles back, a little helpless in the face of that familiar affection.

By the time they arrive at Geno's house, the effect has worn off, and Azzi is a stretched out ball of nerves all over again, her leg bouncing against the floor of the car so fast it’s nearly vibrating.

“Seriously,” Azzi says again, grabbing onto Paige’s sleeve as she moves to open the car door, the two of them still parked in Geno’s driveway. “If they ask any serious questions, I’ll take it. You just- tell the truth unless absolutely necessary.”

“I’m not that bad at lying,” Paige complains, but Azzi isn’t amused, her hand still tightly gripping Paige’s sleeve.

“Hey,” Paige says, a little softer, and extricates her sleeve from Azzi’s grip, just to replace it with her own hand. She lifts Azzi’s hand up, and presses her lips to the knobby bone at Azzi’s wrist, looking back up at Azzi with a smile. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Azzi tries to maintain a scowl, but her hand untenses in Paige’s grip, against her will and she gives in.

“Fine,” she says, ungracious but accepting. “But if this all goes wrong, the murder-suicide is still in the plans.”

“Like you could kill me,” Paige snorts, and Azzi makes a sharp dissatisfied noise as they both finally exit the car, a large wrapped bouquet of orchids in Paige’s arms.

“I so could.”

“Maybe if I let you,” Paige says.

“Paige, please you would let me do anything to you.”

“Oh my god Azzi! We are just about to go inside, and you insist I’m the vulgar one” Paige complains as she rests her head on the wheel before they get interrupted.

“I thought I heard yelling,” the old man says, the sharp clean lines of her white haircut unforgiving against the bright light shining from behind her, the doorway lit up against the darkness of the night sky. “Azzi, is the impression you want to make on your guest?”

“Sorry,” Paige says instantly as Azzi scowls, her head bowed.

Geno’s expression changes so fast it’s almost comical, a beaming smile overtaking the thin, wrinkled face as she turns to Paige.

“No, no,” she says dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I know an Azzi antic when I see one. It’s good to meet you. Please, come inside.”

“She started it,” Azzi mutters, only a little sullen as the two of them enter the large house, the foyer illuminated in white by bright lights set into the high ceiling. Her breath leaves her with an ‘oof’ as Paige elbows her gut in silent response, smirking at the betrayed look Azzi sends her.

“Nonsense,” says Geno, who has apparently decided to miss that entire interaction. “Here, let me take your jackets.”

“It’s alright,” Paige says quickly, and smiles that white smile again and Azzi is suddenly struck by the image of a newspaper ad, ‘Perfect Girlfriend’ scrawled in large expansive lettering over the top. $9.99 a month.

“I brought flowers,” Paige says, doing nothing to dispel the image, and holds out the bouquet. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh,” Geno says, and takes the offered flowers. “These are lovely, thank you.”

Azzi is expecting Geno to return to the kitchen to put away the flowers, leaving her some time with Paige in the hall before the trial begins, but the man just lingers, watching Paige hang up first her jacket, and then turn to Azzi for her.

“You’re so polite,” Geno croons in a voice that Azzi considers unseemly for a man of his age. “Not at all like the last girl Azzi brought home.”

Both Azzi and Paige freeze, Azzi in the middle of handing her jacket off to Paige.

“I was fifteen,” Azzi splutters, blood rushing to her face. She feels hotter now than she ever did with the jacket on.

Paige places the hanger with Azzi’s jacket into the closet, her voice seemingly casual, but Azzi can hear the glimmer of laughter underneath her words. “Oh, really? What happened?”

“What didn’t?” Geno sighs dramatically, leading them into the kitchen where Jayden is seated at the stools lining the kitchen island, slicing up cucumbers for the salad. “Never said thank you or please, stared at the wall the entire night. She wouldn’t have brought flowers. Actually, I think she stole my vase.”

“She did not,” Azzi says, and then pauses. “She probably didn't.” She amends.

“Do you see?” Geno says, and Paige nods. Azzi takes the opportunity the instant the older man turns her back to elbow Paige, returning the favour from earlier with a bright smile on her face as she drives her elbow into Paige’s stomach.

Paige wheezes and manages to disguise it as a cough when Geno turns back around. The wide table is already set, and the four of them start to settle around it, Jayden bringing over the salad, surprisingly quiet.

They manage to make it to the end of dessert without incident.

“It’s alright,” Geno is saying graciously, now empty bowls sitting in front of them. “Now is the time to make mistakes. Around your age, I got engaged to this lovely young woman. Turned out, she was already married.”

Paige gasps and Azzi thinks about banging her head on the table.

“Not this story again,” Jayden says glumly. “Please.”

“She was married,” Geno says, and pauses for dramatic effect. “To an Earl. In England.”

Jayden and Azzi groan in unison. Paige, damn her, seems genuinely interested, her mouth dropping.

“No,” she says, hushed. “And you had no idea?”

“None,” Geno says, puffed up with the pleasure of a willing listener. Both Jayden and Azzi exchange long-suffering looks over the dinner table, and for a moment it feels normal, for the two of them to be complaining light-heartedly as the old man relays a story both have already heard too many times. Then Jayden’s eyes cut to the side, where Azzi’s hand is resting next to Paige’s on the dinner table, their pinkies interlocked. His expression hardens, leaving Azzi blinking.

“So, how did you two meet?” He asks loudly, cutting off a question Paige had been asking. Geno frowns at the interruption, but also turns to the two of them, looking between expectantly.

“We skate at the same rink,” Azzi says, taking a careful sip of water. “We ran into each other all the time. Practice times overlapped sometimes.”

“Ah, go on,” Geno says, looking unfortunately engrossed. “Tell us the details.”

Azzi forces a little laugh, her hand on the glass tightening. She’s talking to Geno but she can feel Jayden’s eyes on her, stinging wherever they reach.

“It’s nothing interesting,” she says. “We got along, I asked her out, we went to dinner.”

“Ah,” Geno says, lying back in his chair a little. “How unromantic.”

“It’s still pretty new,” Azzi says. She thinks she might be starting to sweat.

As if on cue, Paige’s hand wraps around her fully, squeezing a little before letting go.

“Azzi is answering all the questions,” Jayden says, a sharp smile directed at the two of them. “We could at least let the paige talk a little.”

Azzi thinks about propelling herself over the table, and slamming her fist into that smug little face. It’s a comforting image, if nothing else.

“Hm?” Geno says, looking between them. “How did you meet Azzi, Paige? What did you think?”

“I don’t-” Azzi starts, her voice a little high with nerves, but Paige just squeezes her wrist again, gently.

“I thought she was beautiful,” Paige says, before Azzi can start to panic. She smiles at Azzi and adds, “And very talented, of course. Maybe a little sharp around the edges, but it was part of the appeal. And I knew I had to talk to her that day, or I’d regret it forever.”

Azzi’s face feels burning hot. She thinks it’s probably a good thing Paige isn’t holding her hand anymore, because her palms feel clammy.

“What?” She asks and her voice sounds shaky in her ears.

“That’s romantic,” Geno says, nodding. She says something else and Azzi can hear Jayden’s voice, but it’s all faded a little to background noise, as she stares full-on at Paige’s profile, turned away from to address a comment Geno made, and Azzi feels like her heart is going burst entirely out of her chest.

“I’m going to go take a breath,” she says abruptly, standing up. “Outside. Be right back.”

She can feel everyone staring at her, but at this point, she’s pretty sure her face can’t get any more red than it already is.

She steps out into the night, the glow of the porch light dancing across the wooden slats at her feet. It’s happening again, she thinks, where just as soon as she’s starting to feel like she’s got everything under control, scheduled neatly into her calendar, Paige comes along with that honest little smile and her dimples flashing and Azzi starts to feel like she’s swirling apart again.

Footsteps sound behind her, and Azzi turns, mostly expecting to see Paige or maybe Geno, come out to fetch her again.

“Hey,” Jayden says, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks uncomfortable, standing just outside the door, shorter than Azzi remembers him being.

He doesn’t say anything at all, just raises an eyebrow, leaning back to brace his elbows on the porch fence behind him.

“You guys make a good couple,” Jayden says finally.

Something flutters in Azzi’s chest. “What?”

“You look right together,” she says, and motions with hi hands. “You fit.”

Azzi can’t think of anything to say. Oh God, it’s over, she thinks, with a burst of relief. And then again, with an overwhelming panic. It’s over.

“I-” Jayden rubs at the back of his neck, and Azzi just stares. “I’ve been a little overbearing, I guess.”

“Overbearing?” Azzi repeats scathingly. “You mean the blackmailing me into hanging out with you?”

Jayden seems like he’s trying to put on a good show of repentance. “I just, I didn’t want to lose, so I kept pushing.”

Azzi tilts her head back and stares at the sky. A month and a half of effort, gone in two minutes. What, her mind whispers to her, do we do now? A bright star twinkles down at her unhelpfully.

“Whatever,” she mumbles out loud and pushes her way past Jayden back into the house.

Azzi returns to the dining room and starts clearing the table without being asked. She stands in the kitchen and doesn’t wash a single plate, just stares at the delicate china Geno had brought out specially for meeting Azzi’s girlfriend and thinks about how unfair and awful life is. Bitterness is creeping up her throat, long tendrils threatening to choke her out entirely.

Paige comes to meet her in the kitchen after a few minutes, her arms wrapping around Azzi, enfolding her entirely as her chin comes to rest over Azzi’s shoulder.

“Hi,” she says.

It’s always been in Azzi’s nature to poke at barely formed scabs, ripping her cuts open before they’ve had a chance to heal. She doesn’t pull away from Paige’s arms.

“Hi,” Azzi whispers, turning her head to plant a small, clumsy kiss to her forehead.

Paige pulls away, and stands beside Azzi instead, her back leaning against the edge of the counter. “You good?”

Azzi grins, and swallows down the acrid taste at the back of her tongue. “Are you? I thought you were a bad liar, what was all of that back there?”

Paige flushes slightly, red creeping up her neck. Her eyes leave Azzi’s to look at the plate in her hands instead. “All that hanging out with you has made me a worse person, probably.”

Azzi sets the plate down and pretends to swoon dramatically into Paige’s chest, who rolls her eyes, but grabs her arms anyway, steadying her.

“Oh no,” she warbles piteously, fluttering her eyelashes. “What will your teammates think of me, now that I’ve tarnished their precious golden girl?”

Paige reaches up and pinches Azzi’s nose. “Gold doesn’t tarnish,” she says, ignoring Azzi’s nasally protests.

Azzi pulls away and pouts, rubbing at her nose. “I’m just a special influence, Paige.”

“You’re a special something, for sure,” Paige says dryly.

Azzi makes a face at her, and turns back to the dirty dishes, still waiting for her.

“Are you alright?” Paige’s voice asks again from behind her. “I saw Jayden follow you out. I didn’t want to step in. What did he say?”

“Oh, you know,” Azzi says feebly. She gives up, and turns on the warm water, starts scrubbing the dishes. “I’ll tell you later,” she says to Paige.

She wonders, not for the first time, if Paige’s got a superpower that lets her know how far Azzi can be pushed at any particular moment, because she doesn’t say anything else. She just nudges Azzi a little to the side with one heavy hip, until both of them are standing side by side, washing dishes in the silent kitchen.

A clock in Azzi’s head is keeping time in the car ride home, tick-tick-ticking away the moments before they’re back and Azzi has to confess. It’s over, she thinks again. It was always going to be over, she reminds herself, but it doesn’t help. Even if she keeps this quiet, the two months will pass.

Azzi’s dreams have always been so huge but recently they’ve started to seem so small. Not the far away pressure of a medal around her neck, only the image of a kitchen in the early afternoon, warm hands around her waist, gentle lips on her. A breakfast set out for two. She isn’t sure what she’ll do if that slips away again.

“Paige,” she says when the car finally stops in front of her apartment. “Guess what?”

There’s a terrible sort of lingering stillness in the car, like Paige can sense that something is wrong.

“Jayden said we were a cute couple,” Azzi says, as casually as she can manage. She’s watching Paige’s face carefully, searching for a reaction, but she can’t tell if her expression really changes or if Azzi’s just seeing what she wants to see. “I think she’s going to back off. So we’re good now.”

“Oh.” Paige says. And that’s that.

She expects, despite herself, for Paige to follow her out of the car, maybe just to talk, maybe to say a goodbye.

She hasn’t even made it into the building before she hears the car start to move, driving off.

Sure enough, when she turns around, the street is empty.

Because the world is conspiring against her, the elevator is out of service.

Azzi climbs up five flights of stairs slowly, thinking about what she’s going to do now. The stairwell is abandoned this late at night, everybody else in the building already asleep.

She had known this was going to happen. She had planned for this happening. Their relationship had come with a deadline and she had known it was eventually going to run out. She had made a plan, and the plan was fucked now because Paige had said not a single thing when Azzi had told her they could end their fake relationship, hadn’t even stuck around to watch her leave.

“If she doesn’t even want to be friends,” she says to a bleary-eyed Kaitlyn, standing on her doormat. “What am I supposed to do then?”

Kaitlyn isn’t wearing any pants, and her eyes are halfway to closing before Azzi’s even finished her sentence.

“Hang on,” she says, and turns her head to the side to yawn wide, jaw cracking. “Okay, come on.” Ushering Azzi back into her own apartment.

Inside her apartment, Kaitlyn hears her out, splayed out on Azzi’s floor, nodding sleepily as Azzi explains.

“This problem is stupid,” Kaitlyn says, like she always does. Azzi is lying on her couch, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling again. It really is such an ugly ceiling.

“Tomorrow,” Kaitlyn is saying. “Just talk to her.”

“But-” Azzi starts and Kaitlyn cuts her off.

“If she really doesn’t want to be friends at all, I’ll call all the magazines I can think of and tell them she’s really bad in bed or something.”

Azzi pauses and contemplates this. “Promise?” She asks eventually, and Kaitlyn groans where her face is half-mashed into the floor.

“We can do it together,” she promises.

“Ugh,” Azzi says, and rolls over on her couch and gives in to sleep. If she’s going to cry, she tells herself, might as well do it tomorrow.

When she wakes up, it’s not to the shrill piercing noise of her alarm, but to the equally shrill and piercing sound of her phone ringing. She’s still on her couch, and the apartment is still dark, the sun not yet risen. It could only have been a few hours since she got home. The ringing cuts off, and then starts up again.

“Azzi,” Kaitlyn says warningly, her eyes still closed, her face still buried in Azzi’s carpet. “Either you pick up that fucking phone, or I’m going to shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it ringing in your throat.”

Azzi leans off the couch to pick up the phone, rubbing the sleep crust out of her eyes.

“Hello?” she says into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID, more irritable than normal.

“Azzi?” Paige’s voice says over the phone, and it’s so unexpected that Azzi almost misses that she’d said her first name.

“Paige?” She asks, wide-awake now.

“Can you let me in?” Paige asks. “To the apartment building, I need to-”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, stumbling over to where the buzzer sits. She presses. “What are you- Paige?” The line’s gone dead.

“Oh my God,” Azzi says, staring at the phone in her hands. Her phone log is open in front of her, confirming that it hadn’t been some kind of longing-induced dream. “Oh my God,” she repeats.

“What’s happening?” Kaitlyn asks from behind her. She hasn’t moved at all, as far as Azzi can tell. If she wasn’t speaking, Azzi would worry that she was dead.

“You need to get out,” Azzi says, still staring at her phone in disbelief. She looks over and Kaitlyn is still unmoving. “You have to get out,” she says again, running over to pull Kaitlyn up and out of her carpet.

“You are-” Kaitlyn scowls as Azzi tries to push her out the door with both hands at her back. “You are ungrateful, that’s what.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Azzi says desperately. “Anything, seriously, but you have to get out.”

“Hm,” Kaitlyn says, ignoring Azzi’s attempts to throw her bodily at the door. “Alright. If you insist.”

Just before the door closes behind Kaitlyn, Azzi hears her whistle. “Hey Paige,” she hears Kaitlyn call cheerfully, just outside her door and before Azzi’s had the time to process what that means, someone is knocking at her door.

When she opens it to see Paige, she starts to wish that she had spent her time brushing her hair instead of kicking Kaitlyn out. Or maybe her teeth.

Her only consolation is that Paige looks equally haggard, hair even messier than usual, her eyes looking wild as she takes Azzi in, her chest heaving with exertion.

“One more date,” Paige says. She’s breathing hard. “Rule number four. You still- We still have one more.”

Azzi’s eyes couldn’t open any wider if they tried. A painful hope is springing up in her chest, pushing against her ribcage until it aches. “Did you run all the way up here?” She manages to ask, her head still in a daze.

“Your- fuck-” Paige is still panting, bracing her hand against the doorframe, but she laughs, breathless and a little nervous. “Your elevator was broken.”

Azzi can’t tell if she wants to laugh with her or cry. “I live on the fifth floor,” she says, instead of doing either.

“I just needed to tell you,” Paige says, straightening up fully and Azzi thinks that she looks dazed too. “I had to tell you-”

It’s all Azzi can take, all she needs to hear, her heart hammering in her chest. “Wait, stop!”

Paige is staring at her, and it’s an awful expression on her face, one that Azzi’s never wanted to see, like something is falling apart in front of her.

Azzi doesn’t bother trying to explain any further. Azzi grabs Paige’s face and brings their lips together, so hard it hurts.

Paige makes a sound against Azzi’s lips as their teeth knock together, her pointy canines digging into Azzi’s lower lip.

“Okay,” she says, pulling back. She’s laughing again, the soft puff of air hitting Azzi’s skin. “Okay.”

She cups Azzi’s face in one hand, hardened calluses meeting soft skin and gently, so gently, tugs her back in, smiling against Azzi’s mouth.

This kiss is easier, in that it tastes less like blood. Paige’s lips are sweet, soft and plump and red, and she’s hesitant in a way Azzi’s never known her to be before, as she licks over her bottom lip, pulls Azzi even closer with a hand on her waist. Until they’re pressed up tight together, one of Azzi’s hands bruising her shoulder, the other tight on the back of her neck. Until Azzi’s tongue is in her mouth, tasting coffee and mint, feeling Paige’s body shudder against her, her hand opening and then closing tight around Azzi’s waist.

When they pull away, Azzi keeps one hand on her sleeve.

“I like you,” she says defensively, and Paige looks like the breath in her lungs has left her all at once. “I like your face. I like your arms. I like it when you wake up before me and you get ready without turning the lights on so you don’t wake me up. I like it when you carry my bags without me asking even though I’m a professional athlete and carrying heavy things is like, 45% of my life. I like the way you put your hand on my thigh when you’re driving. I like that you have piles of tickets in your car and I like that you call your mom every Sunday-”

“I get it.” Paige says, looking mortified.

“Do you?” Azzi says. “Because, just so you know, you are completely ruining my six year plan.”

“Okay,” Paige says, her voice muffled from where she’s covered her face with her hands. “Maybe I don’t get it.”

“My six year plan,” Azzi wails. “You aren’t supposed to confess until the second year.”

Paige’s hands lower as she considers this. It’s a testament to how well Paige knows her, maybe, that she manages to piece together what’s happening, regardless of how objectively batshit it is.

“Do you want me to wait a year?” She asks, grinning again. Her ears are bright red.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Azzi says, “You are ruining my life. Just- hang on. I need to show you something.”

Azzi’s got one hand on Paige’s wrist, leading her into her apartment, and Paige comes easily, like she has nowhere else to be. Azzi swallows down the lump in her throat, and takes them both to her bedroom, opening up drawers until she finds the notebook she’s looking for, passing it over to Paige who takes it, confused.

Those furrowed lines between her eyebrows only deepen as she opens the book, scanning down a long page covered in Azzi’s handwriting.

“Every time you did something that made me think I loved you, I wrote it down,” Azzi says, her eyes burning holes in her stupid worn out carpet. “So I wouldn’t say it out loud.”

Silence settles over the two of them like a heavy blanket, stifling and hot. Azzi lets it sit, doesn’t dare to move, holds her breath, until she can’t take it anymore and looks up.

“Are you crying? ” She asks, her eyes widening.

“I’m going to kill you,” Paige snaps, not even bothering to wipe away the tears resting in the corners of her eyes, poised to fall. She’s still looking through the second page. “Why would you- why wouldn’t you say any of this before?”

“I don’t know!” Azzi says, slightly alarmed by the tears that are now fully rolling down Paige’s cheekbones. “Please don’t cry. It makes me feel icky.”

“You stupid- God, I don’t even have a word for you right now,” Paige tells her. “There are- you’ve written pages in here.”

“I only started writing in it about a few weeks ago,” Azzi says helpfully. “Otherwise I would have more.”

“At no point,” Paige asks incredulously, “did it occur to you that maybe it would be easier if you just said these things to me?”

Azzi frowns. “I didn’t know if you- you know. Are you?”

“Obviously I’m in love with you,” Paige says, and Azzi feels like all the strings holding her up have been cut at once. “Who would agree to this whole fake-dating thing if they weren’t?”

Azzi thinks that that is almost insulting, but she doesn’t have it in her to feel offended, just feels a bone-melting relief, sagging against her bedroom wall. “You said you couldn’t think of a better solution.”

“There is always a better solution,” Paige tells her, and she’s laughing as she says it, finally wiping her wet eyes, which makes Azzi laugh with her.

“Sorry,” Azzi says, and because she’s pretty sure she’s allowed to, she presses her hands to Paige’s cheeks, and kisses the divot right between her eyebrows. “Sorry,” she repeats.

Paige puts her hands up to Azzi’s face, and they must look ridiculous, both of them holding the other’s face between their palms, grinning like children.

“Azzi,” Paige says, very seriously. “Do you want to be my-”

“Agh!” Azzi cries, and tackles Paige onto her bed. Paige groans as she falls heavily onto Azzi’s covers, her hands flying up to Azzi’s wrists, Azzi’s hands on her chest, Azzi’s knees digging into the mattress on either side of her thighs.

“You already ruined my six-year plan,” Azzi says, pressing down on Paige’s chest. She pretends that she is not effectively groping Paige’s tits right now, but she’s not sure if she’s fooling anyone. “Just let me do the asking.”

Paige’s hands move from Azzi’s wrists to her shoulders, and she pulls Azzi down towards her, rolling them both over, a hand cradling the back of Azzi’s head. She looks down at Azzi from where she’s straddling her thighs and grins at the flustered expression on Azzi’s face.

“You asked for the fake relationship,” she reminds Azzi. “It’s my turn.”

“It’s not a competition,” Azzi lies. “And fake isn’t equal to real. That was more like a business pitch.”

Paige only smiles at her, sharp and knowing, and that wasn’t what Azzi had wanted at all because she can feel her slick stir at the sight.

“It was all business to you?” Paige asks, bending over Azzi, a mocking tilt to her lips, to the arch of her eyebrow. “Really?”

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Paige’s already got her mouth on Azzi’s skin, her tongue darting out at the sensitive spot under Azzi’s ear until she’s got Azzi arching up underneath her with a strangled cry, grinding against Paige’s thigh to try to get some friction. Paige’s hands are pushing her shirt up, fingers rough against her abdomen, a sharp contrast to the soft kisses she’s leaving down Azzi’s neck.

Azzi has the sudden, vivid thought that if she comes just from this, she’ll never forgive herself.

Then Paige’s mouth is at the creases of her thighs, teeth digging in just a little into where the flesh is softest, and Azzi stops thinking all together.

Once the sweat and cum are drying on their stomachs, Paige looks up at her, and Azzi thinks that she’s lost the battle and the war.

She moves in for a kiss, but Azzi pushes her face away with one hand, the other draped over her eyes, too jittery for her own good.

“I’m not going to lick my own cum out of your mouth.”

She can feel Paige twitch against Azzi’s thigh at that and Azzi lifts her arm to squint at her, levels her with the best unimpressed glare that she can manage with her body still feeling so jelly-like and her heart still beating so fast. “Really?”

Paige just laughs, and pulls Azzi’s hands away and to the side, so she can look her straight in the face, can see her own expression reflected back in Azzi’s eyes- a little nervous, but grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She places a gentle kiss on the soft skin of Azzi’s cheek.

“Go on, then,” Azzi says, the glumness in her voice offset by the brightness of her eyes as she looks up at Paige. “I know when I’m beaten.”

“Azzi,” Paige starts. She stops, and tries again. “Azzi.”

The Azzi in question groans at the sound of her name, and Paige keeps her hands around her wrists.

“Azzi, I love you,” she says, and Azzi huffs, the warm air hitting Paige’s chin. “I’ve loved you for a while now, I think.”

She lets go of Azzi’s wrists, moves her hands to cradle Azzi’s face instead. Azzi knows how she must be feeling, because she’s feeling it too. Her throat feels scratchy, the culmination of so much longing suddenly real and staring her dead in the eyes, her eyelashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. It’s almost overwhelming.

“Be my real girlfriend, okay?” Paige finishes lamely, sweeping Azzi’s hair out of her face, the tips of her ears burning hot.

“That was terrible,” Azzi says, but her voice sounds suspiciously wet. “Go brush your teeth so we can kiss properly.”

Azzi makes them both breakfast, and burns the toast when Paige distracts her halfway through. She doesn’t mind, the blackened bits can be scraped off, and the eggs still taste good.

She’s expecting the doorbell, when it comes. Honestly, she’s impressed they managed to hold off so long.

“How’s it going?” Kaitlyn says in Azzi’s doorway, attempting to sound casual, while leaning around Azzi’s body to get a glimpse inside.

“Kind of early for a visit,” Azzi says, but Caroline is already pressing her way inside, curiosity blatantly etched on her features.

“It’s fine,” Kaitlyn says, also stepping inside. Azzi sighs and moves to the side.

“So, why don’t you want to real-date Azzi, huh?” Caroline is asking, clearly trying to loom intimidatingly over Paige. The effect is damaged by the flowery embroidered shirt she’s wearing, short at the ruffled cuffs, cropped to her midriff.

“Stop-” Azzi starts to say, trying to pull Paige away from the two of them.

“She has good bone structure,” Kaitlyn interrupts, her hands reaching up from behind Azzi to grab her face, smushing it between her palms. “Have you seen her bone structure?”

“You guysh are th’ worsht,” Azzi says, her face still clutched in Kaitlyn’s iron grip. She pulls, until Kaitlyn releases her, and rubs her now sore cheeks, scowling. “We already- we fixed it. Jesus.”

“We could try a shovel talk,” Kaitlyn mutters to Caroline, both of them looking slightly disappointed, and Azzi scowls harder.

“Get out already!”

“I have actual shovels,” Caroline tells Paige as a parting statement.

“Okay?” Paige says, bewildered. She turns to Azzi once the two of them have left. “Why was she telling me about her shovels?”

“It was probably meant to be ominous,” Azzi sighs. “Caroline is terrible at ominous.”

“It came across a little more like she was bragging about her shovels,” Paige says.

Azzi watches Paige- her girlfriend, her mind supplies, thrilled- get her stuff together, searching for keys in the pockets of pants that had been discarded. They’ve still got practice, Azzi thinks, a little loopy. After all that, and they’ve still got practice. Azzi will show up to the rink in the evening, and see a crowd of hockey players taking up space on the rink- always too slow to clean up- and one of them will be Paige. It seems too much to process. The sun has risen outside, painting Azzi’s apartment in golden light, her ugly ceiling and her cheap carpet, and the girl in the center of it. Azzi wonders if she should tell her her shirt is inside out.

Paige looks up to see her staring, her eyes even more blue under this lighting, and that animated flash when she smiles- bright and bold, like she's just seen something good.

#nat’s anons #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn huskies #wcbb

244 notes · View notes

aothotties · 1 year ago

Text

Telling Nanami you want a baby

Warnings: MNDI, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. recieving), creampie, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

You and your husband were happily married. You had the house , the cars, the perfect life, the only thing that was missing was all the children you wanted.

You and Nanami had talked about having kids before but never really made good on it and after 3 years, you were ready.

You paced around the kitchen unsure what to say to him. What if he wasn't ready yet? You were on edge just thinking about it.

“You look nervous, what's wrong” he said as he walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist

“Oh nothing Kento it's just that…i think im ready” you said nervously

“For?” he asked in response

“A baby” you choked out

He didn't say anything, just held you there. He placed a kiss on your temple and said,

“Let's do it then, let's have a baby”

You were beyond excited, you were so ready to have a baby and start this new chapter with him. Nanami downloaded an app on yours and his phone to track your cycle and ovulation. He wanted to make sure you were doing it at the best time with the best chances.

Every ovulation week, like clockwork, Nanami was dicking you down making sure to pump you full of his seed

This week in particular was hell for you. You couldn't understand why you were so horny, you neglected the app but anyone could have told you that it was ovulation week from the way you were practically humping anything.

Your husband was running errands and you were home alone going crazy, you needed him so badly. As soon as he walked through the door you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck and got on your tip-toes to kiss him. He dropped the grocery bags on the floor and wrapped his large arms around your waist and kissed you back

You pulled back from the kiss and looked him in the eyes

“I missed you, Ken” you said seductively

Something about him had you in a trance. A fresh haircut, a tight white tee, and gray sweatpants, the combo had you dizzy and you needed him bad.

Nanami then pulled out his phone to check something then nodded with a smirk on his face

“Yeah, let's go” he said and lifted you so your legs were around his waist. He brought you to your shared bedroom and laid you on the bed and wasted no time getting to action

He slid your already soaked panties to the side and dived in like a starved man. He lapped at your folds while you moaned and your thighs trapped his head in place. He inserted a finger and curled it upward

“Ken, just like that” you whined

He hummed in response and continued drinking you like cold lemonade on a hot day. His finger bullied into you while his lips were latched onto your clit. You were on a high and you didn't want to come down. He coaxed your orgasm out of you and you spilled your juices onto his face and he lapped up every drop.

He stood up and removed his sweatpants and briefs. He turned you around and lined himself up at your entrance. His tip teased at you slit a few times before he slid in, a moan falling from your lips as he bottomed out.

He was fucking you at a mad pace, hitting your cervix, tip continually hitting your g-spot. Your back arched and you bucked your hips against his trust and the sound of skin slapping filled your bedroom. His thick balls were slapping at your clit adding more pleasure.

You could feel yourself about to reach the edge and looked back at him

“I'm about to Cum, Ken” you

You heard him groan and pick up the pace. You were gripping at the sheets below you and started to pull away as it was too much. Nanami grabbed your hair and pulled you back making sure you couldn't run

“Mm, better take it mama” he said

“C-cant, ‘ts to much” you whimpered

But he was having none of it. He released your hair and grabbed both of your hips to hold you in place. He was mesmerized by the way your ass was bouncing with each harsh thrust.

Your back arched even more and tears ran down your face from the stimulation. He was fucking you sooo good and was determined to knock you up

You release spilled on his thighs and the bed and he groaned from how you were squeezing him.

He hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled your body to his chest, manhandling you into a full nelson

He bounced your body up and down on his cock reaching deep inside your cunt

“Kent-o fuck thats so good” you screamed

You could feel every vein and even the mushroom head of his dick sliding in and out of you. This was his favorite position

“Gonna cum inside that pretty pussy of yours” he hummed

You felt his dick twitch inside you and after a few more pumps you felt him shoot his warm cum fill you to the brim. He held you in place until he was completely emptied inside you

He laid you down on the bed and you crawled over to put your feet on the headboard. He laid next to you and placed his hand on your tummy

“Can't wait to be a dad” he whispered

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his hoping this would be the time that you actually got pregnant

4 months later..

“Okay you ready?” your best friend asked while holding up her phone to record

Today was the day you found out the gender of your twins. You were excited and nervous at the same time

“Yes!” you said with a smile on your face

You and Nanami took your champagne glasses and hovered them over the beautiful cake that your mom had made for this moment.

“Okay, on three” he said

One…two..three

You shoved the glasses into the cake and pulled them out to reveal a bright pink center

You jumped up down and Nanami had tears in his eyes

“Girls! We’re having girls!” you yelled as you hugged your husband

He held you in his arms and cried on your shoulder, overwhelmed with joy

“You're going to be the best mommy and daddy ever” your best friend said

You and Nanami were so happy and excited for your girls to come.

Rachel

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk scenarios #nanami smut #nanami kento #husband nanami

750 notes · View notes

levissslutt · 2 months ago

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕠𝕣

Plot: Emani is starting her freshman year at her HBCU. She's navigating college life, new friends and freedom. Her roommate Trinity introduces her to her boyfriend Jonathan...and his wildcard brother. The second he sets eyes on her, their time in uni is going to be one for the books.

Warnings: None for now, will put them at the beginning of each chapter.

Word count: 3251

It was finally the weekend after an incredibly long first week at uni. Attending an HBCU was always a dream of yours, but being here in the moment it felt like anything but a dream. Your roommate Trinity was yapping away on the back counter of the laundry room.

"Are you even listening to me." You you shifted your head to the side, to look at the girl. "Yess Trin." You breathed out dragging out your words. "Right right so like I was saying you coming to this party with me and Jim when him and twin get back in town." Trinity had a boyfriend you believed his name was either Jimmy or Jonathan she calls him both, but you never cared to ask.

She was the sweetest thing ever, you actually wish you could stuff her in your sock for safe keeping, this world is too cruel to sweet souls like Trin....however she talked nonstop. You'd met her a week before school started so at this point you only knew each other for two weeks. It felt like months the amount of events that occurred on camp in the short amount of time the two of you shared a living space. And even more so because you were pretty sure she said more words in the 14 days you knew she existed , than the 19 years you lived.

"Trin you know I don't fuck with parties." The two of you gathered your clothes and threw them in the basket after hearing the soft ding on the dryer. "Girl I know, but yo ass needs to get out this dorm and we literally have yet to attend one party, because you refuse to go with me, and Ian going by myself". You side eyed her, padding back down the hall to their shared space.

"I need to lock in like seriously I can't fall behind even a little or everything falls apart." She stops abruptly grabbing my shoulders, "Girl I get that one hundred percent, but you have a good heart, we don't have to be best of friends, but I can tell we are going to have each others back, and I will not let you loose your way after one little party."

You sigh after she lets go of you, and pushes open the room door with a wave of her key card. " You know what, you lucky I like you." She squealed, kicking the door shut, and locking it.

---

Later that day the brothers finally arrived. Trin had been next door with her boyfriend for the past few hours while you took your time getting ready. Doing little things such as brushing the lint out the end of your locs, and fixing the chipped paint on your toes. Emani texted Trinity to make sure she was straight still....no response, but a few minutes later you could her faint rocking against the wall.

"Man come onnnn." You hop up turning on your speaker and cutting on your playlist, making sure you could no longer hear the two of they nasty asses. "He aint even bother to say hey just stole my roomie." You continued making some finishing touches to your look, when you heard a knock on your door. You walked over to look through the peep hole. " Who tf." You cracked it open to see the person better. Before you could say anything he raises his arms in surrender. "Im Trinitys brother." He said hands still raised.

"Ohhh her boyfriends brother." He nodded and you opened the door wider of him. He slipped past you and you closed the door. You recognized him from the pictures Trinity showed you earlier, she had let you know he'd stop by. Only reason why you didn't mind this random little boy in your room was because you had met his brother and he was absolutely made for Trinity. Them two make you feel as if you'd known them for years.

He plopped down on Trinitys bean bag along her side of the room. Now that he was in the room you actually got a good look at him, and damn did he looked good. He had a curly, unkept mullet and a round babyish face, and dark brown eyes. " What's your name again, Trin been talking bout you since she met you." You smiled at that comment, you really appreciated that girl. " Emani, and yea she's really great I can tell we're going to be close." He chuckled and nodded pulling out his phone. "That girl is really something, but she love the hell out my brother and we done been through some shit, so that's baby sis for real."

He looked up from his phone almost as if he noticed you for the first time. " You fine as hell." You snapped your head up from your computer , laughing. " Boy what the hell, you been in my room 10 minutes and aint notice me." He laughed too, " Well yea Im all in yo shit I wasn't trying to look at you fr." He shifted on the bean bag really looking at you now.

"Well I appreciate it , but don't get kicked out being creepy, you cool by association." He grinned, leaning back into his seat. "I gotchu ma." He finished the sentence with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes.

A half hour later you and the brother had chopped it up and got to know each other a bit. His name is Joshua, him and his brother are 20 and they were in NC visiting some family before school started, but originally from LA. "What's your major ma." He asked with a smirk on his face.

"Uh uh we not starting that pet name shit my name is Emani."

"It's a 'M' and a 'A' in there."

He got you there, you laughed throwing your pillow across the room. "Joshua please."

Trin and Jon walk in a little bit later. Their flushed faces and ashamed looks were too funny. "We know what y'all was up in there doing, just nasty." Josh shook his head at the older twin.

"Man hush ian had this in two months." He said smacking Trins behind. She grabbed his hand and they playfully tussled to her bed. Hopping up you grabbed the last of your toiletries and headed to the bathroom.

"Finna take a shower y'all."

You didn't wait to hear a response. You slipped into the bathroom locking the door. You scrolled on your phone and picked a playlist and let the music blast through the bathroom as you washed.

When you were satisfied you dried off and slipped back out the bathroom. "Thought you drowned girl damn." You heard Trin yell from the other side of the room. You could hear chuckling from the two other males in the room. "I was actually on song 6 of my set thank you." That caused all three of them to laugh.

Thankfully right outside the bathroom there was a small vanity area where you could dry off and change without being in the steamy bathroom, or being in the view of the rest of the room, and its guest.

Once you were modest you rounded the corner asking what Trin was wearing. Her boyfriend was sprawled on her bed with his feet dangling off not paying you any attention. Trin had on an all black romper with a neon green bomber jacket. The theme of the party was 2016, which you thought was the oddest theme, but now you could see how much fun this was going to be, cause she looked too cute in her signature color.

Squealing at the excitement of you actaully coming with her to a party Trin hopped across the room over to the area out of site of the boys to help you pick out a fit.

Once the four of you were dressed and smelling great , Jon led the way to his truck. To your surprise, Josh reached the door before you to open it. "Preciate that Josh." He was too damn fine, like literally. There was no way in hell he would look twice in your direction, you thought. Like he didn't say you was fine as hell earlier, but honestly you really thought he was just trying to be funny.

The couple in the front yapped away and you and Josh sat in silence in the back. "See now that I have another person to bother around the two of them you gon have to stop being so shy all the time." It was so dark you couldn't see him, but the chain he had around his neck glistened perfectly, so you could just barely make out an outline of him.

"Ian shy, I just ain't been to a party in a minute. So nervous is what I am. Ian tyna get knocked down by no ques either. I be hearing about these college parties." Josh laughed , showing all his teeth in the dark car. "Aye I'm weak as hell, yea them ques be doing the most man, but just stick with me I gotchu."

Your heart fluttered a little at the thought that Joshua wanted you to stay near him all night.

---

The party was actaully a lot of fun. There weren't any ques at the party, thank god. However Josh did not once leave your side. He thought he was slick, but he been eyeing you since you asked Trinity for help with your outfit earlier. You didn't mind, but couldn't help, but think if it was just because he only wanted one thing from you.

You tried your hardest to scan your key card in front of the door, but between you giggling, Trinity sprawled across the floor and Josh all but carrying Jonathan down the hall, the sight was making the task that much harder.

"Trin get the fuck up omg," you where whisper yelling at her. The boys slowly made it over to the two of you. You were finally able to get the door open and somehow managed to drag Trinitys drunk ass in the room. Jonathan and Trinity had the bright (drunk) idea to challenge some other couple to a dance battle, and the loser had to take 3 shots. Considering y'all were already drunk, moving around makes you drunker AND they took 3 more shots afterwards. You just knew they asses was seeing stars.

"Josh, bruh help me get her on the bed." Jonathan was officially passed out face down on the other side of Trinitys bed, at least he was safe, and there was a trash can over there. You and Josh may have been a little less drunk than the other two however, you took one step towards Trin and damn near ended up on the floor next to her had it not been for Josh.

"Come on Emani you too girl, you was just talking bout some "Joshuaaa oh my god, help me get her drunk ass on da beddddaaa", now lookatchu, can't even walk." He mimicked what you just said in a drunk girl voice. "I don't even sound like that, see now you doing too much." He just laughed after he got you on your bed, cause little did you realize you sounded exactly like that.

---

You rolled over groaning at the blinding light that peeked through the curtains. You had a massive, pounding headache. The feeling came quick, bubbling up from the bottom of your stomach. Stumbling as quickly as you could to the bathroom, you threw up. It was so much liquid you where sure you were about to die.

"Goddamn ma, you good."

You had only heard the shower running after you had turned into a werewolf on the bathroom floor. Leaning against the wall you see a half naked Josh peeking from around the curtain.

"Why on earth are you in my shower."

He made a face, and although they had only been back since yesterday, you knew what he meant. After you morphed into a power ranger and flushed the toilet you felt way better, still leaning against the wall trying to feel normal you say to Josh "I appreciate you helping me into my bed yesterday, and I don't mean to overstep cause I know that y'all have known Trinity since y'all was kids, but I haven't. You cool and all, but just ask me if you can be in my room like this."

By the time you had finished Josh had turned the water off and grabbed his towel. "Nah fasho I was going to, but ma you was knocked out."

Your face flushed slightly at the thought "oh yea."

He chuckled stepping out the bathroom. You watched his back muscles move as he left the bathroom. "Damn". You huffed under your breathe. His butt was so big, like it wasn't fair, he don't need allat. You closed your eyes leaning back once again on the cool tiles on the bathroom wall.

Finally pushing yourself off the floor you grabbed your shower caddy and stripped in the bathroom, hoping Josh would just leave on his own. You weren't sure why you were so comfortable around him you thought carefully as you took your shower. Maybe its his eyes, he had really pretty eyes and people with pretty eyes tend to get away with shit. Or maybe it was that ass.

You had to shake your head to get the thought of Josh out of it. You've known him less than 48 hours and he was all you could think about. And he kept calling you 'ma'. He just did not know what that did to you.

---

It had been a few weeks since the party and honestly school was going by fairy smoothly. Trinity and Jonathan were never on campus any more due to some program they signed up for. It was really cool and you and Joshua would've signed up as well, but somehow as the two of you got closer he convinced you to sign up for photography with him.

He was the last person you would've ever thought to be into photography, but sitting on his bed looking at the pictures he had taken of you earlier for his assignment you were speechless. "These are beautiful, I don't even remember posing for this one."

His voice was soft when he spoke, which was rare. "Nah you the one that made them beautiful, and I definitely snapped that last one when you wasn't looking."

You looked up at him from your spot on the bed, grinning like an idiot. "Thank you Joshua." You had to stop lying to yourself you for sure had a crush on him now, but you would never make the first move or tell him that. Truth be told you had never been in a relationship or even asked out on a date. Josh was very attractive and the girls on camp made that very known, and the fact that he hadn't made a move either was just feeding off your insecurities.

You hadn't even realized the same boy you were thinking about had gotten up and was standing on the side of his bed watching you.

You snapped your head to the side almost startled. "What, you creep."

"Girl, you on my bed."

"Which is true, but why are you just standing there like that." He shifted uncomfortably. Between his soft spoken complement, and the look on his face right he was low-key worrying you.

"You good Josh?" You asked him tilting your head, you did not miss his eyes looking at your lips and then snapping back up to your eyes.

"I was just tryna figure out why you was staring at the same picture for five minutes."

"Boy what like you not standing there staring at me."

"Yea, but I was talking to you and you didn't even hear me like I'm not 3 inches away from you." He climbed onto the bed and sat with his legs crossed as he leaned against the headboard.

You turned to face him, frowning "damn I really did not hear you, I was just stuck in my head." He chuckled "Yea I can see that cause Im spilling my heart out and you staring off into space."

"Huh wait what did you say."

He got quiet again, but he was still staring at you with those damn eyes. How could someone so muscular and boyish looking have such pretty doe eyes.

"I really like you Emani. And I know we met each other not that long ago, but I would love to take you out on a date."

Your mouth was gaped open awkwardly looking at the same boy who had invaded your thoughts just a moment ago, was now sitting in front of you telling you he felt the same way. And he was asking you out on a date. No fucking way.

He licked his lips laughing again. "Look there you go ma, come back."

You threw the closest thing you could find at him, face completely flushed red. "Shut upppp Josh." Your head was spinning, hanging low in your hands as the boy across from you had the stupidest smile plastered across his face. "I really like you too Josh." You mumbled through your hands. He smiled widened if that was even possible. You felt him pull you into his lap.

You looked up at him, face still red. "I really like you too Joshua."

This time you had whispered it, looking at him through your lashes.

He licked his lips again and placed his hands on your hips. "You already said that Emani." The use of your name instead of that stupid ass pet name made heat rush to your core. His hands cupped the sides of your face. He didn't even let you react, before he crashed his lips into yours. His lips were soft and tasted like the mango drink he had on desk. One of his hands slid back to your waist as he continued to kiss you.

You couldn't believe this was really happening right now. This the same boy that had been on your mind since the night at that party. The two of you had pretty much spent everyday together, he was cool as hell, easy going, very sweet and it worked out even better because the four of you had all y'all classes together.

And now here you were making out with him on his bed. His bed. His be-

You sat back suddenly pushing him away. "I - Im sorry Josh, I need to go."

The look on his face was shattering your heart, but you couldn't, not right now. After all the thoughts you were having about him actually sitting here in the moment scared the fuck outta you and you had to get out of his room ASAP.

"Mani what's wrong, what did I do."

The tears were threatening to spill, you didn't know what was wrong with you. You were quickly trying to grab your stuff before he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Nothing I just need some air, Im sorry."

You managed to grab the rest of your things and slip out the door before they fell.

Josh stood in the middle of his room absolutely speechless after Emani left. He could've sworn he saw her crying.

"What the fuck just happened."

ꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎

#jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagine #jey uso x reader #jey uso

94 notes · View notes

currentlyinflames · 2 months ago

Text

What we have to do to survive - Sylus x gn!Reader

word count: 2.5k

Summary: Sylus comes home after a day of hunting Praedators and you see something off...

cw: violence, injury, mentions of blood, guns, reader is protective almost to an unhealthy level, theres like one suggestive sentence

a/n: written for the new event. I skipped over the patching up scene a lot im sorry im hella squeamish. this man has captivated all my senses so i must bite and write him. this is also my first fic to exceed a thousand words.

Enjoy :D

- - -

You heard the glass door creak as Sylus crept back into your home.

You never heard him walk in when you first met him but Sylus had since dropped his guard around you. Something about a “little kitten” not being a threat. You showed him just how much of a threat you could be later that night.

You lifted your head from where it was buried in your book, not taking your eyes off it.

“Got a moment kitten?” His deep voice called out to you.

“Mhm, lemme finish this chapter,” You said, still deeply engrossed in your book.

Sylus chuckled. “You’re not going to step away till you finish the whole book, right sweetie?” There was something held back in his voice, but you didn’t think too much of it.

He came over to where you were curled up on the couch, standing behind the backrest to kiss you on the cheek.

You turned your head, catching his lips. “Welcome home.”

You both separated after a long moment when you caught him holding his side. You quickly got up and went around to him, scanning for any other injuries.

“What happened? Why didn’t you say anything??” You gingerly touched the hand over the wound, he winced and you quickly pulled your hand away, keeping it hovering nearby.

“I’m alright, kitten. It’s just a scratch.” Sylus tried to console you.

You clicked your tongue, worry evident on your face. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He smiled softly, his crimson eyes holding your gaze, silently comforting you.

That didn’t ease your worry as you gripped his arm, getting ready to guide him toward the bathroom with your first aid supplies. You took a breath. Panic would not help anyone right now.

Sylus stood firm, preventing you from taking him anywhere. “I’m serious, kitten. I’ll be alright.”

“Not if I don’t take a look. Now come with me or sit down.”

Sylus chuckled, then winced. “You’re the boss.”

Your hand slid from his forearm to his free hand, gently guiding him to the cabinet with the first aid kit.

You made him sit on top of the counter, keeping his injury in front of you, feeling his eyes on you as you pulled out the supplies.

You didn’t meet his gaze as you started working. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to coax it out of one of your associates.”

“No need to murder on my behalf, sweetie. It was just an incident with a Praedator, nothing too bad.”

“But no Praedator has been strong enough to hurt you before. Are they getting stronger or are you losing your touch, honey?” You attempted to lighten the mood with your teasing but Sylus seemed pensive because of your words.

“You’re aware of Praedator testing with frenzy enhancers, right?”

Your brow furrowed. “Where are you going with this?”

“You know I have enemies kitten, some of them have it out for me more than others. One of them happens to be in possession of black market frenzy enhancers.”

“So the Praedator was sent to hunt you. And found you.”

“They obviously didn’t succeed but they’re still a threat. I want you to keep a weapon on you at all times. Preferably one that I constructed myself with…special anti-Praedator features.”

“You mean a gun with a taser and Praedator suppressant laced bullets-”

“-And a second gun with normal bullets. You know me so well my dear. They’re in the top drawer of my nightstand along with my glasses, the hot ones- you know which ones.”

You finished up the final bandages and went to put the supplies away when Sylus stopped you. “Aren’t you forgetting something sweetie?”

“I…don’t think so?”

He pointed to his lips. “A get-well kiss. Won’t that speed up the healing process.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh my sweet, needy man.”

You reached up to cup his face, one hand on his cheek and the other wrapped around his neck. Your lips slotted against each other perfectly, like they were made to match. His arm wound around your waist, finding its home in the small of your back.

You kissed him passionately, savouring the moment. And already thinking of you next move.

- - -

You had given Sylus a sleeping pill. A mild one to give you about 3 hours to track down the Praedator and the bastard that dared to target Sylus.

You snuck over to his phone where he received all his missions and entered the password (“LitTlefeAtHer78%67><) to look up the details of his last job.

Location: Southern District; near the Old Museum.

Target: B-Class Praedator

The difficulty had obviously been fabricated. You’d fought B-Rank Praedators yourself and none of them were near Sylus’ skill level.

The Museum was near where you and Sylus met as you saw him fight for the first time. He was injured then too but those were only a few scratches. Not a planned attack.

You then scanned the page for any hint as to who might have sent the job. And there it was at the top: Ever. An odd codename but still a lead regardless.

You looked over to see him sleeping peacefully in your bed. You never thought of yourself as vengeful but Sylus had changed you in many ways since you met him.

You crept over to the bed and opened the nightstand drawer to pull out the guns he wanted you to have. It was fitting that you were using them on your first “official” job for him.

The weight was unfamiliar yet balanced in your hands and you quickly tucked them into your holsters, eager to use them.

You crept out of the room and through the same back door Sylus snuck in through just an hour ago.

“I’ll be back baby,” you whispered as you looked back one last time before you left.

Sneaking out with Sylus’ keen senses would have been the hard part of your journey if not for the sleeping pill. Now the obstacle was the time crutch and actually tracking your target from the Museum.

If you assumed that Sylus had eliminated the treat before leaving the area, that would reduce the chances of you tracking your prey easily. You didn’t want to think that injury made Sylus sloppy but at the moment that was your best bet.

You entered the museum on high alert, tensing as you hear a noise. A series of thumps followed.

Slowly, you inched toward the sound, guns in hand, ready to strike at anything there. You hid behind a corner, peeking out to gauge what was there.

A Praedator was chained to the wall, clearly a weaker type with how it struggled in short bursts, then gave up.

So the B-Rank Praedator did exist, you realised. But another one was sent too.

You stepped out from behind the corner, pistols aimed at the Praedator. It snarled back.

“What happened here? Who sent you?”

“I don’t work for anyone,” it hissed. “Some weird shirtless man chained me up here after killing another .”

“And what was the other Praedator like?”

“Stronger than the man, almost got a bite on him. Wearing a collar like a little pet too.”

You were getting closer to the answers you wanted. “Did anyone come here after that?”

“And what will helping you get me?” It sneered.

“A quick and-relatively- painless death,” you said, raising your chin. “Or I can leave you here and signal some other large, higher ranked Praedator to finish the job. Maybe get some frenzy enhancers as well to really make it interesting.”

To emphasise your point, you examined one of your guns and aimed it at its left hand, firing a warning shot but having it land in the space next to its upper arm.

“You won’t actually shoot,” It growled.

“Try me.” You aimed again, this time at its chest with the electrically charged bullets. You pulled the trigger.

The bullet didn’t pierce the skin but settled on top, making the Praedator jolt from the electrical shock.

“Ok- the Praedator was branded- there’s a research facility 3 buildings down- it came from there- that’s all I know I swear-“

The jolts began to slowly stop. You cocked your gun, aiming straight at its chest. “Thank you for your service.”

You fired.

- - -

Most buildings in the Southern District were abandoned, meaning there was minimal security in even the previously most important buildings.

There was nothing stopping you from casually strolling into the facility after shooting the security guard. But you decided to sneak in just in case there were other security measures taken.

You found an open window on the ground floor and at an easy enough height to crawl through. You landed on dirtied white floors and pulled out your pistols.

You began walking through the hallway you stumbled into when you heard voices coming from ahead.

You ducked into the nearest open room, rushing to hide from whoever was coming.

The voices came closer as you scanned the room, quickly looking for somewhere to hide if they tried to come in.

The room was compact, with a large cage in the middle. There were screens on the wall that might have been used to track the vitals of the Praedator within the cage but now it was abandoned.

The voices reached a crescendo outside the room and you held your breath, your finger hovering over the trigger in case you had to make a quick escape. Then you heard the footsteps resume and the voices faded away.

You paused for a moment, then peeked out of the room. Two men were still standing outside your room, seemingly waiting for something. One was wearing a lab coat and the other a suit. Then the man in the lab coat whispered something to the man in the suit. You could only make out a few words: lab, target and Ever.

That’s when you caught sight of the suited man’s id badge. It was pinned to his suit jacket and was spelled in small but clear letters: EVER.

You had found your target. And you would make him pay.

You had nothing against the scientist other than the fact that he might be a possible witness. You quickly looked around for a distraction. The monitors in your hiding spot were all turned off but they might be connected to another system or alarm.

You crept over to the nearest one that was hidden from the door and held down the on button. It took a moment, but slowly flickered on.

The lab must have been abandoned for quite some time because the monitors made use of old technology that primarily detected whether the cage was open or not.

It indicated that all was well because the cage lock was engaged. But with just the right aim….

You pulled out your normal gun and pointed it at the ancient lock, then fired.

The bullet struck the latch perfectly. And then the alarms went off.

The blaring noise made you flinch, then grip your guns harder as you prepared to face Ever.

The first scientist came in, the one that was just talking to Ever outside. He frantically looked around but before he could catch you, you smacked him upside the head with your pistol.

Then came the man you were truly waiting for. He ran into the room and you triggered the mechanism that would shut the door.

“Hello Ever,” You smiled, twirling one of your guns. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He was still reeling from the shock of the alarm. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What matters to me is that you tried to harm Sylus, and I don’t take too kindly to that.”

“What could I possibly have to do with that criminal?”

“He’s a threat to you isn’t he? Unpredictable, cunning, skilled. If he decides that you’re his next target, there’s nothing stopping him.”

“He has no reason to target me. He was simply a bug that had to be crushed.”

A warning shot rang out.

Ever flinched.

“I know about the frenzy enhancers. I know how you faked the mission debrief to catch Sylus alone and off guard. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t target you the same way.”

Ever eyed your gun, then met your steely gaze. “My empire will come after you. They’ll never stop.”

You tilted your head, raising your gun to his chest. “But what is a body without its head.” Then you fired.

It was a shame you couldn’t draw this out longer, but alas you had a time constraint.

After making sure the bullet had done its job, you triggered the door mechanism again and went back to where you previously hid.

You watched the panicked scientists rush in and used the chaos to sneak out.

Your job was done, and it was time to head home.

- -

You broke back into your home using the back door you used to get out.

You quietly stepped into your closet, changed into comfortable clothes, and tip-toed into the bedroom to lie next to Sylus before he woke up.

Slowly, you crawled into bed and lay down facing him, cuddling close to bury your face into his chest.

“Had a nice trip kitten?” His voice came from above you.

“Shut up I’m tired,” You murmured. “When did you wake up anyway, that pill was strong.”

“You forget I’ve trained myself against poisons, a little melatonin does nothing. But I’m sure you’ll pass out pretty quick after the field trip you’ve had tonight. Hunting down one of my worst foes? You’re a feisty one aren’t you?”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you mumbled into his chest. “And you kill for your job without any hesitation, why shouldn’t I do the same for you?”

“Well that’s just what I have to do to survive in this world darling,” Sylus said. “You have a choice.”

“What we have to do,” You amended. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d go to such lengths for me kitten.”

You look up and hold his gaze, unwavering. “I would do anything for you.”

Sylus wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his warm breath against your ear as he kissed your temple. “It’s both cute and incredibly hot how you fight for my honour sweetie.”

You smiled, burying your face back into his muscular pecs. “All for you darling.”

A moment of silence passed with both of you basking in each others’ presence. Then-

“And I must say kitten, this was probably one of the best Valentines Day presents you could’ve given me today.”

#lads #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #my writing

113 notes · View notes

lovecrime2 · 1 year ago

Text

Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: you begin therapy with Dr. Lecter, a man who you quickly learn much from. from his intellectuality, to the darkness hidden in the furthest parts of his mind, you become enraptured with him. will he feel the same about you? therapy sessions turn into exchanging books with notes, cooking together, and seeing more of each other in ways you both never thought possible. a love story.

authors note: hello!! this fic will have multiple chapters and i’m so excited to start this! it’s also on a03. and im creating a playlist for this!!

Chapter I: Prima

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـ

“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now, miss.” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied.

You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat, Miss L/N.” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

“You have emotional regulation issues, accompanied by social anxiety. Past traumas, which I’m sure are accompanied by self-image problems, am I correct?” he asked at the end of his statement.

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was later out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment, Miss L/N?” he asked you, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

#hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #nbc hannibal x reader #dr hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader imagine #hannibal fic #hannibal nbc fic #hanniblogging #hannibal the cannibal #hannibal the series #hannibal smut #hannibal lecter smut

603 notes · View notes

bumblebriez · 1 month ago

Text

Love Stricken (PT.3)

(Gojo Satoru x Chubby!Fem!Reader)

(PT.1) (PT.2) (PT.4) (PT.5)

⚠️⚠️⚠️: Swearing, no smut in this one, just a bit of love and a BAD possessive Ex.

Never in a million years would you think, you'd catch the eyes of a certain jujutsu sorcerer but you did and with that came alot of consequences. That you would eventually find out the hard way.

Your parents vanished a good couple of years ago with no knowledge of why and where, leaving you; the eldest, to care and provide for your younger siblings. Being responsible and forgetting about the life you used to live, you felt lost. Struggling a lot with your self worth.

Your best friend took it upon herself to finally get you to live your life a little more by taking you out on the town for a night.

But you found that night was the start of your downfall.

Ahhhhhh hah heeeyyy 🫣

So we listen and we don’t judge..

Nah but for real, apologies for taking a long time, I really haven’t picked up any of my works, I just haven’t been motivated to write at all but what I did end up writing ages ago, I just finished. Just a reminder this isn’t following the plot, there will be aspects from it but not really.

Im gonna try and motivate myself more because I really do enjoy writing and I was really enjoying getting into the rhythm of this one. I have some… plans for this.

Sadly this chapter isn’t as long as the last two but I’ll make up for it. Appreciate the support! Thank you for reading! <3

********

GIF by saewrq

********

It been a good couple of weeks since you heard from Gojo. You quite literally held onto the fact he would call you back later.

You convinced yourself that he was just busy to save yourself some pity.

You’d kind of wished you had forgotten the whole thing but atlas, you didn’t. Every night you laid there, staring at your phone; waiting for his name to flash on the screen.

And now you’re thinking; maybe you should have called him instead.

Maybe you were in over your head already.

Maybe you were feeling delusional.

Another week goes by and you find yourself standing in your small kitchen, staring at a new bouquet of flowers that sat upon the counter.

You had assumed that they were from Gojo, though it didn’t say. You wouldn’t lie.. it was a cute gesture but it pissed you off. How did he have the time to send you fucking flowers but not send you a simple text?

Your phone resting in your hand and you struggle to tap on his contact. You run your free hand through your messy hair; trying and failing at calming your overwhelming body.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you place your phone softly on the counter. Anxiety ran through your veins, shaking your body at the simple thought of even sending a text.

You didn’t want to seem… needy.

Even though you haven’t even tried to talk to the man.

Maybe you were playing too much and you just missed out on something that could’ve been great.

All these intrusive thoughts ran through your head, making you feel worse and worse. You fail to notice little eyes peering up at you.

“Sidda?” You break from your trance, turning to look down at the little strawberry blonde haired girl. Her little fingers wrapping around the edge of the hoodie, you wore.

“Yes baby?” You hummed, crouching down to her level.

“Are we still going to the park today, like you promised?”Her body swayed slightly as if she was nervous to ask. The question immediately triggering a previous memory of the promise from last week.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, Akari not hearing your swear.

“Yes.. yes! Of course. Go get your brother and we can get ready to leave.” Your eyes fluttered to your kitchen window, the bright sun rays shining through.

It is a beautiful day.

A day for distractions.

You watched excitement spread across the wee girl’s face; your lips curl into a smile.

Akari darts off, wasting no more time; her voice echoing throughout the house, hollering after her brother.

You take one last look at your phone; a desperate attempted at manifestation.

Demolishing every last bit of hope you clung onto, you let out a sigh of defeat. Your feet move before your body as they slowly stride out of the kitchen.

At least it was a good night. One you most likely won’t forget.

Little to your knowledge, the day was only beginning.

A faded smile sits on your lips as you watch the memory play on your phone. It was an old video, one where Akari didn’t even exist yet.

You watch as your father hoists your little brother into the air when he was just a wee boy, his giggling flew out of your phone’s speakers.

A familiar sadness filled your core as you swiped to another video.

Your mother was cradling her newborn in her arms, a cute little girl. Your mother’s eyes were filled with so much love as she stared down at Akari. It wasn’t long after that they had vanished, leaving nothing but leaving you with everything.

Your tongue swiped at your bottom lip, wetting the dryness as you lock your phone, having enough of reminiscing.

You look over to where your siblings had gone off too and see your little brother pushing your baby sister on the swing.

Families walked past you of all shapes and sizes, parents and their newborns. No broken families insight.

You were lost in your daze not noticing your little brother approaching you. Alone.

“Have you seen Akari?” You jump at the sudden voice, immediately alarmed.

“What do you mean Riku? She was just with you?” You exclaimed to the younger ebony haired boy, moving to stand up; your eyes scanning the playground equipment.

“I know. She just ran off, I assumed she was coming to you.” He said back, following you as you slowly made your way around the playground, looking for your little bundle of joy.

“You can’t take your eyes off her, you know that.”

“Why weren’t you watching then!” You chose to ignore his comment, knowing he was right. You should’ve known better.

Your pace started to speed up as you felt your heart leap into your throat. If anything happened to her, you would never forgive yourself.

“She kept saying something about patting the pretty doggy. Dogs aren’t even aloud in here.” Riku spoke as he kept up with you. That only made you worry even more, thinking she left the safety of the boundaries.

Both of you past the food stands, specifically the ice cream one, thinking maybe she changed her course and was wanting an ice cream.

You accidentally bumped into a man, not bothering to look up, too focused on your own.

You muttered a quick apology before setting off again, pulling your little brother with you.

The man stood in shock and confusion at the sudden impact that he was not expecting; watching as you disappeared from his view.

To your relief, the search was short lived as the familiar strawberry blonde started to come into view.

You sigh loudly as you made your way to her, seeing a teen crouched down, talking to the little girl.

“Akari! You can’t run off like that.” Ignoring the teen, you quickly pulled the girl into your arms, squeezing her tightly.

“I wanted to pat the pretty puppy.” Her voice croaked out as you held her at arms length.

“Honey. Dogs aren’t aloud in here.” You say softly as you caressed her plush red cheek in your hand.

“Yeah. Idiot.” Riku muttered lightly, earning a glare from you.

“Yes they are. It was his doggy!” She pointed to the teen behind her and you finally acknowledged the awkward teen as he stared at the little girl with a semi shocked expression.

“I’m sorry about her. She has a crazy imagination. Always running off to find something new.” You grumbled, standing to your feet, dusting the grit from your knees; attention on him.

“It’s.. fine.” The teen spoke with uncertainty, his dark blue eyes meeting yours. Making you feel a little uneasy as the shock was quick to go, replaced by a stoic expression.

“Thank you for staying with her..?”

“Megumi.”

“Megumi! Thank you. I appreciate it.” You exclaimed with a bright smile. He didn’t really respond, simply giving you a nod.

“Y/N?”

You turn to the man that was approaching your little group, who just happened to be the one you ran into earlier. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you’ve seen him from or why he felt so familiar.

He was sporting a dark blue jacket with a high collar and matching slim pants, along with a pair of black dress boots.

But what stood out the most to you was the black blindfold he was wearing.

Not to mention the deathly familiar pure white hair.

Just as you were going to apologise for bumping into him, it hit you like a truck.

“Satoru?”

“I see you’ve met one of my students.” He gestured to Megumi but your eyes never left his form.

You’ve been waiting for weeks to hear from this man.

And here he was. Two ice creams in his hands. At the park.

All kinds of feelings surge through your body as all kinds of thoughts swirled in your head.

Realising this was definitely not the place to speak your mind. You don’t speak.

at least to him.

“Come on kids. We’re leaving.” You mumbled down to your siblings. Avoiding wherever Gojo’s glaze was.

“But-“ Akari tried to protest but you just gave her a stern look, quick to interrupt her; your hands pushing against their backs.

“I said we’re leaving.”

Satoru was shocked when he saw you, he saw you a mile away. Excitement was brewing in his chest at the thought he’d finally get to see you again, to the point he’d purposely allowed you to bump into him; lowering his infinity.

But to his surprise, you didn’t recognise him. At least not right away.

He wasn’t going to lie.

He was expecting a bigger reaction from you than what he got.

And he knew deep down, he was definitely the cause.

Work was busy, it was very hands on; more than normal. These special grade curses were really giving it to him; especially Sukana and from that he didn’t realise how much time had passed.

Satoru watched your retreating form, most definitely watching your plump ass swaying with every step.

“Who and what did you do to her?” Gojo’s not only student but dependent muttered to him; eyeing his guardian suspiciously.

“That’s offensive. I’m offended!” Megumi rolled his eyes annoyingly at the ‘adult’ and his deflection at the question.

Satoru sighed softly, the smile he was forcing dropping slightly.

“Completely nothing. That’s why.” The raven haired boy’s eyebrow raised as Gojo’s facade slipped away for a second.

“You two should probably make up. That little girl saw my shikigami. She could be in trouble.”

Gojo tapped his chin as thoughts ran through his head. He was obviously pretty good at sensing cursed energy but he didn’t sense any within you.

Were they your offspring?

Where was their dad?

“You’re right Gumi!” His feet moved before his torso, a hop to his step; pushing the ice cream cones he just purchased into Megumi’s hands.

“Where are you going? We are supposed to be looking for this special grade.” Megumi called out, watching his guardian bounce away.

“To make up! You’ve got this!” The raven huffed out before looking down at his shikigami companion; the living twin.

“Don’t call me that.” The boy whispered more to himself before poking his tongue out to lick at the frozen concoction.

“Gross. Rum raisin.”

You sit in your room with your head in your hands, your foot was bouncing against the hardwood floor.

You felt anger. Unnecessary anger. Shame.

His stupid handsome face kept flashing in your mind. It was driving you crazy.

You really shouldn’t be angry, it takes two to tango but is it wrong to expect someone to make the first move?

You’ve been fucked over and fooled too many times to count and with a guy like Gojo.. you want to take extra precautions.

Is that so wrong?

Why do you feel so stupid then?

“What’s wrong?” You quickly lift your head up and see Riku standing in your doorway, looking at you with almost worry.

“It’s nothing. Just have a headache.” You smile briefly, correcting your posture.

“It’s not what I said right? I’m sorry if it is.” His almost worrying expression deepened; his eyes glistening.

“No no. It’s not that. It’s really nothing.” Obviously it was something. You just didn’t want to explain you’d caught feelings for the guy you had a one night stand with to your 13 year old brother.

The boys frown deepened, knowing it wasn’t nothing. He knew you better than that but for his own safety, he wasn’t going to push it further.

The last thing he wanted to see was you upset over nothing that was obviously something.

“Where’s your sister?” You asked as you watched Riku make his way over to you, taking a seat beside you.

“Watching her dumb show.” The boy muttered with an annoyed tone. You smiled sweetly before bumping him softly with your elbow “You use to watch dumb shows too.”

Riku scoffed with a roll of his eyes “Yeah but not like hers. They are really dumb.” You giggled at your younger brother.

You hummed lightly, wrapping an arm around his back; pulling him closer, squeezing softly.

“Do you still think about Mum and Dad?” That previous feeling of sadness returned, your smile dropped slightly.

“Of course. Every now and again.” You spoke with a small voice.

“I don’t. Every-time I think about them, I get mad.” Your hand brushed through Riku’s jet black locks.

“What makes you mad?”

“That they left. They left us here.” Your head tilted to rest on the crown of his own. You weren’t going to lie, you were resentful. You use to be filled to the brim with anger.

So you understood completely where he was coming from but the more you grew into the person you are now.. the more responsible you became.

You had no room for unwarranted feelings. You had had kids to care for. You needed to be different. You needed to grow up.

Perhaps that’s where a lot of your problems stem from. Perhaps those feelings are still there, bottled up.

“Siddda.” The comfort of the silence was broken as your little sister appeared in your room. Pulling a slight grumble from Riku.

“Yes baby?” Her little hand pointed in the direction of the living room.

“There’s a weird man at the front door, he’s asking for you.” You perked an eyebrow at Akari before pushing Riku from you; gently.

“Both of you, stay here.” You muttered, pushing your sister further into your room.

Your feet hit the hardwood floors softly as you strided your way to the living room.

Immediately you halt as you see the ‘weird’ man now in your humble abode. Shivers ran up your spine as your eyes take him in.

“I thought she would recognise me, I’m a bit hurt.”

You straightened your posture, staring coldly at the man.

“Why would she?”

He tilted his head at you, a smirk resting on his lips. “She did love me.”

“She was two.”

He started to look around your home, taking small steps towards you. Making you feel on edge more than you already are.

“Nothings changed I see.”

“What do you want Zack?”

You huffed in annoyance, placing your hands on your hips as you stared daggers at your.. previous partner.

His smirk widened slightly as you almost prowled around your living room, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t I just visit an old friend?”

You removed your hands from your hips, crossing your arms across your chest instead, the annoyed expression deepening on your features. “We are not friends. If I remember correctly, we ended on bad terms.”

Zack let out a small breathless chuckle, his eyes glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, seeing your flowers sitting on the counter but the archway. He changed the topic quick.

“I see you got my flowers.” His eyes landed back onto you.

“Your-“ Your eyes widened slightly, realising you had been wrong. They weren’t from Gojo. They were from HIM. “You sent them?”

He let out a small playful scoff “Of course. Who else?”

You couldn’t help be feel the pang of disappointment in your heart, your face showing that you were more offended than disappointed though, trying to hide the fact.

He lean forward a little that stupid smirk still on his lips “Did you think you got it from someone else? Please.”

“Who would send you flowers when you barely leave the house?” He continued to talk down to you, his tone carrying not only amusement but condescension.

“You need to leave.” You spoke in a stern tone, not in the mood for his antics, you didn’t know why he was here and frankly you couldn’t care less.

“Come on. I know you miss me.” Zack purred, starting to slowly make his way over to you, you couldn’t help yourself as your body recoiled slightly, taking a few steps back, not wanting him any closer.

Your breathing hitched as you felt your back hit the wall and Zack was now standing in front of you, you could practically smell his awful cologne that you always hated flowing off him in waves.

“See. I can see it. You still want me.”

You turned your nose up at him, unable to hide the disgust that started to rise inside you. “I don’t.” Unable to stop the growl.

Suddenly Zack slammed you against the wall, holding you against it by your shoulders, his smirk turning into something more.. sinister. A look you were all to familiar with.

You couldn’t help the hard flinch from your body, the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

Zack’s eyes glimmered as he leaned in towards your ear “You’re mine. Always will be.” A cold shiver ran through you, fear slowly creeping through.

“What are you doing?” A younger voice broke through the tension, saving you from.. whatever the situation was leading too.

Both You and Zack turned towards the voice and you saw Riku standing there, Akari hiding behind him.

Zack forced a sickly sweet smile, looking back at you, releasing his hold on your shoulders; brushing down your arms to straighten your top.

“Just catching up kid.” You let out a small breath of relief as he pulled away, removing himself from your boundaries.

Zack sent you a small wink before turning on his heels and heading for the door but not before looking over his shoulders and saying “Enjoy the flowers Y/N.”

And with that he left.

Leaving you with unspoken feelings that had seemed to have never left, trauma that was never fixed.. that you didn’t think could be.

You turned to your siblings, forcing yourself to be strong. Strong for them but not for yourself..

Forcing a small shaky smile to them, ignoring the look Riku was giving you as he studied your demeanour. That boy was too smart for his own good.

“Let’s get dinner ready.”

After settling your siblings in, preparing dinner and tucking them in for the night.

You made your way out of your house, the bouquet of flowers in your hand, your feet heading straight towards the trash can.

Without any hesitation, you threw the flower to the bottom of the bin, slamming the lid shut and letting out a shaky breath.

You inhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair, dragging your hand down your face.

“Those from your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened, your whole body jumping from the unexpected voice, you twirl around to face the man, being met with Satoru.

A sheepish grin plastered on his lips, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was dressed in casual attire, very different from what you witnessed him in earlier today. No blindfold. His glasses in place.

You couldn’t ignore how attractive he looked, or the way he made you feel just by being in his presence.

But yet you couldn’t help but feel uneasy, not because of him. (Though you couldn’t help still being pissed at him no matter how good he looked.) but from Zack. He really sent you in a spiral and you felt unsafe. On edge.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” You stuttered out, wrapping your arms around your body, he tilted his head as he took you in, if he noticed something was off.. he didn’t question it.

“So you can talk?” His smile widened just slightly, his eyes slowly trailing over your body, not bothering to hide his interest.

You huffed in annoyance, your eyes involuntarily rolling at his teasing tone. Not a word you heard from this man and he had the urge to tease you.

His smile softened lightly as he took in your annoyed stance.

“Look..” He started with a fleet of hesitation in his tone, taking a step forward. “I get that you’re.. pissed at me-“

You held your hand up to stop him from talking. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. I really don’t.” You made yourself move, heading back towards your porch. You felt guilty that you might’ve been a bit too harsh but you were feeling overwhelmed with.. everything.

Gojo wanted to reach out and grab you but refrained from it, instead choosing to follow you, his eyes briefly glancing over to your trash can.

“Y/N.” He called softly, following you to your front door.

“Please Satoru. I can’t handle this right now.” You murmured softly, going to open the front door.

Gojo couldn’t help but feel frustrated at your lack of patience, he normally could withstand most things, biting back with his own sense of humour and attitude.. but you were different. God you were different and he needed that.

He wanted you. Even if it was just after one night.. you made him feel.. normal. Like he could relax for once. Not being put on a constant pedestal.

“Please just talk to me. Let me explain.” He couldn’t help the hint of desperation that lured into his voice.

You turned to face him with a hard expression “I’m not some booty call okay? Someone you can just.. you can’t just say things like you did and just disappear!” You sighed deeply before continuing. He straightened his posture as he listened, his smile had been completely wiped from his face.

“I just.. I’ve been fucked over too many times, lead on.. hurt and I’ve always been a fool to fall for it..” His face soften at your words but he didn’t interrupt you, he didn’t force his way to control the moment like he knew he could.

“Sweetheart.. You’re more than that.” Gojo spoke softly, taking a few steps up the small stairs connected to your porch before he was standing in front of you, not invading your space like he was prone too, he wanted to pull you in.. not push you away.

“I didn’t lie. I meant everything I said. My life is.. hectic. Work keeps me on my toes, I never wanted you to think I was avoiding you and I’m so sorry that I made you doubt.” Gojo couldn’t believe the words that flowed from his mouth like it was the easiest thing in the world. It wasn’t a common affliction for him to be serious but he wanted you to know.. he needed you to know that he was more than interested in you.

“I won’t lie.. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night..” He smiled lightly; his hands clenching into fists trying to ignore the urge to reach out and grab you.

Throughout when he spoke, your hard expression turned more soft but you still felt like you had to be on guard, shaking your head lightly at his comment about your hookup.

He stepped closer to you, peering down at you and not in an intimidating way. You tensed slightly as he reached up to caress the side of your neck.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking and I’d be the fool to not fight for something I want.” You could hear the determination in his voice, his hand moving to your jaw to tilt your chin up at him.

“So what’s it going to be doll. Think you can give me another chance?”

You couldn’t help the small curl of your lips, as you shook your head lightly. “Is that a yes?” He pressed with a mischievous smile, stepping closer to you, his hand came up to caress your cheek gently.

“You better not make me look like a fool.” *You whispered softly, leaning into his touch.*

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart.” Before you could say anything, his lips pressed to yours, moving in a slow and tender manner, your body seemed to react on it’s own; wrapping your arms around his neck as you kept up the pace.

Your eyes fluttered closed blissfully but Gojo’s however..

His bright blue eyes opened and glanced over slowly to your trash can..

His eyes narrowed slightly as his lips continued to move with yours, watching the cursed energy consume the can, swirling menacingly around it. That bouquet wasn’t just any bundle of flowers..

#chubby reader #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #x fem!reader

107 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

ONE YEAR

A/N: heeey look at that! im posting something new again!

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: On the day before Christmas you realize just how much has changed in one year.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Time has always been such a weird concept in your life. When you were a kid one year felt like a decade, week-long summer vacations felt endless and you could have sworn that you’d never grow up.

But then, of course, you did, like everyone else and time sneakily started to speed up. One day after the other, weeks turned into months and years and before you could realize, another birthday has passed, you got older even though the last one felt like it was yesterday.

One year can feel like a second, but it can also make such a difference and today, the day before Christmas you’re reminded of it.

Waking up you’re not surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. The mornings when you could peacefully cuddle with Harry are now long gone, but knowing that he is somewhere out with your daughter makes up for all the missed moments together in bed.

Stretching long you give yourself a couple more minutes to just rest and get your head ready for the day. The night wasn’t too rough, only had to wake up twice to feed Alma and she went back to sleep without a fuss this time. Maybe she can finally feel the Christmas spirit as well and her gift is to let you rest finally.

Sitting up in bed you turn towards the window and see that it’s still snowing, the street outside is clothed in the prettiest white blankets that’s almost entirely untouched since it’s so early in the morning. Your wish for Alma to have a first Christmas with snow is actually coming true.

Snatching one of Harry’s hoodies from the closet, you make your way out of the bedroom as you’re putting it on, noticing his voice coming from the living room the moment you reach the stairs. Trying to be as quiet as possible you head down, hearing his cooing voice that’s for sure for Alma.

“See them? You like them? They are pretty, right?”

He has the most soothing voice as it is, but whenever he is talking to Alma it feels like it softens even more, as if that little girl melts the man in every possible way.

Well, that’s kind of the truth, Harry is smitten with his girl.

Harry is standing by the window that watches over the snowy street, the lights of the christmas tree reflecting in the glass because it’s still a bit dark outside. He is holding Alma in one arm, holding the curtains to the side with his free hand, gently swaying from side to side, a motion that always calms your baby, but only when her daddy does it.

As you watch them in awe you think back to this exact day a year ago. It’s one to remember, because this was the day you found out you were pregnant and you shared the news with Harry. As much as you love your daughter, it’s no secret you weren’t planning her arrival so soon. Harry proposed just weeks before the pregnancy came into the picture and you both agreed to take some time just for the two of you, enjoy married life alone before expanding your family. Travel, explore, find yourself before becoming parents.

All those plans changed when the second line appeared on your test.

Harry was surprised, maybe even shocked a bit. Not because he didn’t want kids, but because he was planning with another timeline that only included babies in 2-3 years. You talked for long hours that day and he told you he doesn’t feel ready, that he’s afraid he might not be the best father our baby deserves and he’s scared he might mess it up. You both cried and shared all your feelings and thoughts.

It took time for him to settle with the idea of becoming a father earlier than he planned, but by the time the nursery was done, he was a changed man. Throughout your pregnancy he did everything he could to better himself and be ready for Alma’s arrival. He read every possible parenting book out there, always took care of you and looked for ways to be more present in this new chapter of your life together.

Now it’s been four months since Alma was born and Harry is easily the best father you could ever wish for your baby and you’re so proud of him for everything he does for you and Alma as well. There’s no trace of that scared, doubtful man you sat on the couch with a year ago, the positive pregnancy test lying on the coffee table in front of you.

Alma’s head turns, as if she had a sixth sense to notice when you’re around and she gives you a toothless grin as you make your way across the room. Harry turns and you see the same sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you that you saw the first time you met. He says he knew he would marry you one day the moment he laid his eyes on you. You believe him, because you felt the same way.

“Good morning you two,” you smile, pressing a kiss to Alma’s forehead and one to Harry’s lips.

“Morning Mommy, we didn’t wake you up, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. Alma visibly starts to wiggle towards you, Harry hands her over and she lays her head to your chest right away, her tiny hands grabbing onto the sweatshirt that smells like Harry.

“Princess is kinda hungry, but I thought I could prolong breakfast a bit and distract her with the snow.” Harry smiles gently, running his knuckles down the side of Alma’s round face.

“You like the snow, huh? We’ll see how much you like it when we’re outside in the cold,” you chuckle.

You move over to the couch and Harry follows you, you sit beside each other, Harry’s arm instantly comes around you, pulling you against his chest as you settle Alma in your arms to feed her. This has been your usual for the morning feeding, but almost all feeding, because Harry loves being present in these moments. All those sleepless nights when she woke up every two hours and you had to sit in the nursery for most of the night to feed her, Harry was there every time. If you weren’t sleeping, he wasn’t either, even if all he could do was just be there, run his fingers through your hair and tell you how great of a mother you are, he never missed a chance to be present.

As usual, Alma passes out in your arms once her tummy is full and you can’t help but just stare at her and think of how you can’t imagine your life without her now.

Turning your head you find Harry gazing down at her as well with sparkling eyes and you wish to see him like this, so happy and content every day for the rest of your life.

“What?” he asks with a tiny, shy smirk, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Just… I was thinking about how much has happened in one year.”

Harry hums and you know he is thinking about the same thing from last year.

“Yeah. It’s crazy. Can’t wait to see what the next one holds.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

457 notes · View notes

user2772636 · 1 year ago

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)

===

Chapter nine: You belong to me

===

You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.

Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.

You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.

Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.

"I love you. See you soon."

It always said that.

Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.

You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.

Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.

Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.

Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.

You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.

Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.

Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.

Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.

A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."

You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.

In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.

You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.

Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.

But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.

It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.

Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.

You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.

The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.

Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.

There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.

"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.

You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."

××《☆》××

You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.

You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.

Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.

He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.

It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.

The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.

Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.

You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.

Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.

You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.

××《☆》××

It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.

You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.

"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.

"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.

"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.

"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.

"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."

It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.

"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.

Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.

What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.

When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.

"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.

"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.

"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.

But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?

When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.

Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.

You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.

When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.

It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.

You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.

Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.

You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.

"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.

"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.

"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"

His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"

"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.

You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.

He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.

The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.

You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.

His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.

When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.

The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.

You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.

You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.

Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.

"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.

You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.

"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.

"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.

"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.

"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.

"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.

"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.

"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.

"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"

"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.

"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.

"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"

Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."

Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.

"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.

"I don't even know."

××《☆》××

He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.

You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.

"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.

"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."

Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.

"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.

The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.

"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.

The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.

"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.

"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.

Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.

You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.

"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.

"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.

"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.

"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.

"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."

He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.

He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.

"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.

"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.

You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.

"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.

One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.

He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.

××《☆》××

End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me

Next - Chapter Ten: I love you

××《☆》××

WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #fanfic #reader insert #reunion #paris france #reunion smut #“i missed you” smut #implied smut #steamy #time skip #time lapse #after college #after highschool #childhood love #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers

148 notes · View notes