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lunasfics · 2 years ago

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Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it?

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back.

“Good. Nightwing?”

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent.

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for.

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom.

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.”

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.”

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read:

Attempt 1: G6B24

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown)

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass.

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did.

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick.

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind.

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him.

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you.

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file.

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?”

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.”

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?”

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised.

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected.

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up.

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’”

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on.

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.”

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave.

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry.

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?”

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.”

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well.

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.”

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different.

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first.

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile.

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.”

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.”

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you?

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state.

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.”

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile.

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.”

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.”

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.”

“Wayne.”

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares.

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response.

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.”

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…”

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper.

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.”

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement.

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you.

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.”

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain.

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.”

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.”

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change.

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over.

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you.

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase.

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first.

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.”

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.”

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own.

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there?

“How?”

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first.

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.”

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.”

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.”

Bruce simply gave a nod.

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all.

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian.

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe.

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest.

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!” he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you.

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.”

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?”

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.”

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own.

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.”

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her.

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.”

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey.

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.”

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.”

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front.

“This better be good.”

Tim mumbled, “Finally”

“Miss me Timmy?”

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away.

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce.

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.”

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.”

“Holy shit, man.”

“Jason, will you shut up?”

“Never.”

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.”

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.”

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.”

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.”

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.”

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you.

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her.

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit.

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-”

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled.

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.”

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.”

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone.

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.”

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied.

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.”

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.”

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.”

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do.

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered.

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.”

“I want time with her, Bruce.”

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.”

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer.

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?”

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile.

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face.

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.”

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away.

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?”

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.”

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.”

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.”

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–”

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news.

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him.

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated.

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done.

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.”

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.”

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement.

“We’re just buying training clothes.”

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.”

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.”

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site.

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that.

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself.

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself.

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about.

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings.

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere.

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off.

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.”

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.”

He nodded, walking away to change as well.

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill.

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.”

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense.

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.”

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing.

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine.

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite.

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit.

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying.

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction.

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.”

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?”

You nodded.

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds.

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you.

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner.

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking.

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case.

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor.

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother.

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in.

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there.

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough.

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled.

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal.

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it.

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine.

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow. Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)

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grunge-mermaid · 2 years ago

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so this just came up on my pinterest feed:

the average individual income in my nearest major city is $64,500 and average household income is $126,700. (according to Career Beacon, whoever they are)

assuming Career Beacon means that is the average gross salary, at 2.5x that's $161,250 and $316,750 respectively.

if they mean that is the average net household income, that bumps it up to $87,500 and approximately $200,000. So according to the pinterest advice, your budget for a house should be $218,750 or $500,000.

average house price in that same city? close to $700k

In my old neighbourhood in that city, condo PARKING SPACES were regularly listed for $40k-$75k. you can't even get a reasonable studio condo anywhere in the city proper for $316,000. in the outskirts, like out past the suburbs...maybe. but then you're paying through the nose for transportation.

you can get a nice (and I do actually mean nice, I'm not being sarcastic or snarky at all I swear) trailer home in the middle of fucking nowhere in a 55+ community for $150-$300k. good luck accessing transit though.

#depending on the neighbourhood a detached house can run you $650k to $5 million or more #(that 650k is land value only btw it's most likely a dilapidated husk of a house being held up by mold termites and spite)#semi detached seem to be in the $600k-$1.2m range #condos where literally every wall is shared with neighbours: $400k-$4.5m #also like every other city rent is more expensive than a mortgage #torn between “I would LOVE to have an annual salary of $64k that sounds like SO MUCH MONEY”#and “even if I earn more than the Prime fucking Minister I'll never own a house in a location I actually want to live in”#while sitting in the house my parents bought in 1989 for $90k #(that they can't afford to move out of bc what's it's currently worth won't buy them a decent house less than 1/2 the size)#and the house before this one? they bought it in 1984 for $33k #like I know home ownership isn't supposed to be a goal for my generation anymore #but fuck what I wouldn't give to have a home that *I* own that nobody can take away from me #I've already had one rental sold out from under me #and every time I've moved (not counting in/out of university residence) hasn't been my decision #so it'd be nice to have some housing stability & security for the first time in my adult life #also financial stability & security #like enough to buy a reasonable house #and reliably afford sufficient food for a week without having to stretch 4-5 days worth of food for a whole week

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cybrasigilism · 3 months ago

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NSFW alphabet with Player 388 (Kang Dae-ho)

warnings: smut and all things of the like | not proofread! | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from yours

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: you already know the second i got a request to do a NSFW alphabet for my fav, i had to do it. sorry for the spam, i just have way too much free time right now :’) anyways, as always i hope you enjoy! trust this is only the beginning of the dae-ho works i plan on writing

MDNI! 18+ content ahead, reader discretion is advised

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ if dae-ho isn’t the king of aftercare, then i’m santa clause. he will cuddle, draw you a bath, offer you a massage, the whole nine yards. he wants to make sure that you’re not only comfortable, but that you also know how grateful he is that you felt you could be vulnerable with him.

B= Body part their favourite body part of theirs and of their partner’s

↳ his favourite part of his is easily his arms, mainly because of how many people tell him how good his hugs are. as for his partner, he would ask how he could choose one favourite thing about someone who he loves so much. he’s a thigh man

C= Cum anything to do with cum, honestly

↳ would much rather to cum inside mainly because this man 100% has a breeding kink, but if his partner specifically says they don’t want him to cum inside, he will gladly oblige and pull out

D= Dirty Secret a dirty secret of theirs

↳ likes to be edged I MEAN WHO SAID THAT—

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what their doing?

↳ he’s definitely not got a massive body count, but trust he does know what he’s doing. you guys aren’t finishing until you cum twice

F= Favourite Position this one speaks for itself

↳ for him, it’s a tie between missionary and reverse cowgirl, it all depends on who wants to take charge in the moment

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous, etc.

↳ he tries to be light hearted about the whole thing, especially if it’s your first time together. he’s still serious about sex in the sense that he’s determined to make you feel good, though

I= Intimacy how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect

↳ he’s big on praise, so he’s super intimate, kissing his partner all over and telling them how perfect they are are both staples in the process for dae-ho

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ he’s tried to use porn to masturbate before, but he finds it too artificial and performative and it actually takes him out of the mood rather than get him in it. he’s the kind of guy who thinks of his partner to get off

K= Kink one or more of their kinks

↳ breeding, praise, back scratching, overstimulation

L= Location favourite places to do the do

↳ the bedroom of course, and the shower x)

M= Motivation what turns them on? what gets them going?

↳ confidence. he loves it when his partner knows their worth

N= No something they won’t do

↳ hate sex, no explanation necessary

O= Oral preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

↳ he loves getting head just as much as the next guy, but face-sitting? he’s happy for you to just sit on his face the whole time, no penetrative sex needed

P= Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

↳ he is a firm believer that sex is more than just the action itself, but it’s about being as close to the person you love and trust most as physically possible, so of course he’s gonna take his time with his partner. after all, why rush a good thing?

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often?

↳ he’s down if you’re down, but again, he would rather take things slow

R= Risk are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

↳ again, he’s game to experiment if you are. however he is still solid on his limits, and he wants you to be firm with yours too. he would never forgive himself if he felt like you only did something because he wanted to

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

↳ as previously stated, dae-ho will not be through with you until you cum twice. he will go as long as he needs to for the job to get done, whether he’s already finished or not. the training in the marines has certainly helped his stamina, so this is no trouble for him

T= Toys do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves

↳ i doubt he has toys of his own, however he has no problem with using any toys his partner chooses to bring along

U= Unfair how much they like to tease

↳ jokes on you, he’s actually the one getting teased double jokes on you, he’s really into it

V= Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

↳ he’s not obnoxiously loud by any sort of means, but he definitely does moan. remember though, he will praise his partner and assure them that theyre making him feel great. think something along the lines of “yeah, making me feel so good baby” or “that’s it, that’s right..oh god yeah, right there.”

W= Wild Card a random headcanon for the character

↳ i’ll say it once and leave it here: he talks you through it

X= X-ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ thanks to the marines training, he’s got quite the muscular build. when he’s hard, he’s above average, somewhere around 6 1/2 - 7”

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ he doesn’t have a crazy sex drive, but when he’s in the mood it completely shifts

Z= Zzz how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

↳ he refuses to fall asleep before you do. he will do whatever it takes to stay awake, because he feels it’s rude to fall asleep before his partner does

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

thanks so much for reading! you know the drill, advice + constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing are appreciated and requested! hope you guys like this as much as i had fun writing it :)

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game smut #dae ho x reader #player 388 #alphabet #x reader smut

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after-witch · 1 year ago

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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.

Word count: 7100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre

The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly.

In surprise.

In trepidation.

In realization.

The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance.

How lucky for him.

How unfortunate for you.

You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?

The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill?

And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear.

He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later.

His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise.

As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you.

The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches.

Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy.

What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate?

All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front.

As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way?

But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once

From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.

And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.

He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him.

Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis.

It’s you that he focuses on, now. And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted.

Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person.

You.

What to make of you?

You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find.

He remembers such a living.

You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats.

It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them.

With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you.

Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.

He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm.

“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you.

You stiffen.

“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.

“None of your business,” you say.

And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.

“That’s all right.” He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”

Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.

“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”

Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.”

He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.

And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.

“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.

He nods his head.

“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach.

“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”

He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels.

You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that.

“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”

Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.

“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”

The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them.

Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it?

You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more.

Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear.

“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.”

“You want to buy me clothes?”

You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips.

He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.

You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant.

“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies.

For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised.

The elevator doors open.

Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter.

“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”

You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?

“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.

That might come in handy.

He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him.

“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.”

You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.

Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.

Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs.

5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets.

Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.

The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining.

He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement.

What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?

Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?

He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You.

What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume.

What would you be like, once you were fully his?

What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden?

The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it.

He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--

Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.

He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.

The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder.

But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits.

He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it.

This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate.

Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping.

Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two.

But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.

Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb.

And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least, you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit.

It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut.

Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer.

At least, not before today.

“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.

Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good. Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.

“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.

“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?”

You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.”

“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.

Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.

Only... none of that happens.

His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.

“I know a lot about that, actually.”

It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you.

It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside.

“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom.

He nods.

“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think.

He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.”

Dear.

The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.

Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself.

Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top.

The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest.

A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.

There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.

And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner?

He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears.

“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.

Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”

“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”

His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.

“You’re familiar with his work?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling.

You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?

“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.

He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm.

His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why?

Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.

The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.

The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you.

Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.

“So you were… homeless, before?”

You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?

“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.

If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.

“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”

“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin.

“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”

“Which was?”

There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.

“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you.

Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.

Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.

“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.

He tilts his head a little. “What for?”

Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.

Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.

“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”

You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology.

He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.

It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.

Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.

A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.

You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do.

The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild.

Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap.

Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it.

Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two…

You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.

There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.

But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.

You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there.

You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras.

The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.

He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.

You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years?

How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.

He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be.

Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this.

There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever.

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo lucilfer #afterwitch writes

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mysumeow · 4 months ago

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︵ ☆ to let go

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, reader takes a dominant role, sunday takes a sub one, ruined orgasm (giving), mentioned edging (giving), oral sex (giving). ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: The Astral Express gained a new passenger. You get along with him soon enough. ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 711 ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: i wrote this in celebration to getting his lc c':

“Hey—Just wanted to let you know that we’re going to make a quick stop in the Xianzhou Luofu,” March said from the other side of your locked door, loud and clear for you to hear. “Are you coming with us? Danheng’s going too.”

You squeezed Sunday’s thigh in some sort of reassurance, to let him know you would stay until you were done with him. His breaths came in quick successions and peered through his half-lidded eyes at you from his seated position on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t feel like going. I’m tired,” you grumbled while your thumb toyed with the reddened tip of Sunday’s cock. He took a sharp inhale. He struggled to hold back any noises that would give away his current location. “Go without me.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. Come on, it’ll be quick! I think Sunday left with Himeko and Welt because I haven’t seen him around,” you didn’t need to see her face to know she was pouting. “Are you sure you want to stay here alone?”

“Maybe later I’ll catch up to you guys.”

You pressed your tongue flat against the base and licked slowly to the tip, the blush across his face extended to his neck as he begged you with his gaze to have mercy on him, his voice about to slip out any moment now. His lack of control stemmed from how pent-up you had driven him for the past minutes, when you pulled away just in time before he came, to deny him that sought release.

“March,” Danheng softly reprimanded her. “Let’s go already.”

“Fine.” she whined and, after a moment, heard their footsteps disappear into the distance.

You wrapped your lips around the side of his dick, the tip of your tongue gathered the ongoing drip of his arousal before they reached the base. You held a firm grip around the base and lined him up to take him in your mouth, his hot skin nice against your tongue.

Sunday gripped your sheets, a groan hitched in his throat. You grabbed his hands and led them to your hair to prompt him to tangle his fingers in it.

You pull away for an instance to speak.

“About to finish, Sundy?”

It was a question meant to rile him up. Of course he was about to cum, if the throbbing against your tongue was anything to go by. You had him wrapped around your finger. A feat which wasn’t impossible, if you considered Sunday used to depend on his ability to maintain control and order for every aspect of his life. Now? Even if it was a foreign notion, he was open to getting accustomed to the new change in routines. You gave him a taste of what it was like to surrender himself to pleasure, and he wasn’t backing away from it soon.

“I’ve told you to drop that nickname—” he clenched his teeth, his orgasm built to the top again as you slobbered on his cock. The sight of your shameless display made his heart race, one of his wings covered his eyes, not used to it yet.

His hands, which had kept a certain level of gentleness while he threaded his fingers in your hair, gripped you harder. That was your cue to move away from his aching cock, the surge of his cum shot into the air instead of your mouth.

It should’ve hurt—you pulled away during the highest point of his orgasm, the sensation watered down by your interruption. Yet, he found it exhilarating. Tears prickled his eyes, and his thighs trembled, his groan tethering the edge of a whine.

You grinned at his disheveled appearance. The clear contrast to the pristine presentation you were accustomed to. You gathered his cum with the tip of your finger and wrapped your mouth around it.

“It seems like you’re raring to go a second time,” you stood up from your kneeled position between his legs and gently pushed him against the bed. Sunday was still catching his breath, but his hands held your hips as you straddled him.

#hsr smut #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail smut

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nerdygirlramblings · 4 months ago

Text

more spitfire soldier

tw: canon-typical violence

"I got yer six," you shout, "go go go!"

Ghost barrels through the next door. You hear the rat-a-tat-tat of his SA80 and sweep the room behind him, clearing any hostiles he might have missed or those who come running at the sound of his gun.

You count three bodies on the floor when you hear footsteps coming from your right. You turn and fire as two more combatants dressed in black turn the corner. Both go down quickly, but the second got off a few shots of their own.

You don't think anything of it, too high on adrenaline and too focused on the mission. But you notice your gait slowing as you catch up to Ghost.

He waits at the next door, watching you approach. "Sit rep, Mav?" he asks.

"Fookin' fine, Lt. Wha'd're we waitin' fer?"

"If yer not solid, I'm not gonna put us both as risk," he reminds you. His safety depends on you and vice versa.

"Feel fine, Lt, really." You meet his eyes. "Really."

He nods once and breaks through this last barrier between where you are and where you need to be. The room is filled with drafting tables covered with blueprints and files. You call over comms, "Looks like everything is hard copy, Captain. No computers in sight. How do you want us to proceed?"

You hear Price's muttered curse. Intel said this group had data about black market arms deals, but if it's all hard copy, it's going to be a hell of a lot harder to grab what you came for.

As you wait on Price to make a decision, you watch Ghost round the far side of the room. You can hear commotion from the direction you just came. "C'mon, Cap. It's gunna go tits up in five. We need orders and we need an exfil."

Price tells you to grab anything that looks promising and light the rest up. Six minutes later you and Ghost are heading out a service entrance Gaz found on the complex blueprints. When you hit the ground floor, you head west where transport should be only to find a bare stretch of woods.

"Captain, where the fook is exfil? Ain't no one 'ere!" You turn in a circle looking for a way out and stumble.

Ghost catches you under the arm and peers at your face. "Hey, Mav, you broken?"

You try to answer, but suddenly your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. You blink and notice black at the edges of your vision. You put a hand to your side and it comes away sticky. You look from your bloody hand to Ghost.

He wraps an arm around you, hoisting you against his side. You hear a roaring in your ears, or maybe it's just Ghost as he shouts to Price about your injury. You want to tell him to be quieter, he's going to let the enemy know your location, but you can't make the words come. Your last thought before you slip into unconsciousness is you've never heard that tone from Ghost before. If you could believe it, he sounds almost scared.

first previous

main masterlist

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #johnny mactavish #john price #simon riley #kyle garrick #nerdygirl says #spitfire soldier

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wwooyology · 11 months ago

Text

The Murder House | Masterlist & Intro ⏃

↳ this is inspired by an ask from the lovely @addictedtohobi

「parings」 : enha x fem!reader

「synopsis」 : it was halloween season once again, and your brother begged you and your friends to go to this new hit escape room that just came into town; the only problem? you hated going to them almost as much as you hated waking up early in the morning. however, being the good friend and sister you were you went with them. you expected cheesy props, dumb riddles and questions, and a rigged room, so you couldn't get out even if you got the right answers. what you weren't expecting was being drugged and waking up in a room with a dead body and separated from all of your friends.

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, heavy gore, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, cussing, death, manipulation, mentions of being drugged, toxic behavior, reader is speculated to be an 03' liner, trauma bonding, other specific warnings on individual parts.

𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

「taglist」 : CLOSED

↳ a/n: I have decided to make this into a short series because I just know trying to write one long fic won't suffice, so I am making it into separate parts! I am super excited to see what you guys think so far and to hear all of your theories. don't forget to read the intro at the bottom!! I will be figuring out release dates for all of the parts at a later time, but they will all be subject to change depending on multiple factors! also, if you were on the taglist located on the wip post, then you are still on there, so don't worry! with that being said you will only be added to the taglist if you are 18+ and your age is visible on your page. if you don't meet either of those criteria, you will be ignored.

「start」 : May 8th, 2024 「end」 : June 20th, 2024

「synopsis」 : after waking up trapped in a room with a dead body, you are saved by none other than heeseung, but you're still left with questions. why were you and your friends trapped there, and who is behind it all? though it would seem that you won't be getting your answers very easily and definitely not without a few losses. 「word count」 : 10.2k 「warnings」 : blood, dead body, cussing, mentions of murder, mind games, drugging, mentions of mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, etc...), jungwon is kinda reckless, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell? or will you have to watch all of your friends die? 「word count」 : 11.3k 「warnings」 : cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!) 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : everything seems to be going downhill at a rapid pace and nothing is going right and you've already suffered the loss of two friends, but the mastermind behind this doesn't seem to be satisfied just yet. another test is thrown your way but things are starting to become more clear and you're realizing that the culprit has been with you the whole time... but will you be able to stop him and escape this hell house with your lives intact? 「word count」 : 10.5k 「warnings」 : cussing, even more 'games', blood, violence, gore, gun goes pew pew, poisoning, betrayal, gaslighting, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), knife goes stabby, threats, death, obsessive/stalker-ish behavior, mental health disorders, even more betrayal, traumatic events, police, pls lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say.... 「word count」 : 6.2k 「warnings」 : cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

“Come on, y/n. We never get the chance to do this!” Riki whined as he draped his taller frame over your back, causing you to slouch forward. You let out an annoyed huff, letting your hands fall to your lap. Your phone slid from your fingers as you tilted your head to look back at your brother.

“Riki, how many times have I told you that I hate going to things like that?” You pushed back against him, causing the boy to fall dramatically back on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your discarded phone off the ground, Riki watching you with a pout.

“You watch too many horror movies,” he grumbled, remembering all the nights you would watch horror movies only to have some new-found fear afterward, even if it was something completely unnecessary.

You dropped your phone once more before glaring up at your brother, “ya know, there is always some truth to them.”

“y/n, please. They are just movies. Complete fiction. Ghosts aren’t real.” Riki rolled his eyes, picking at the loose strings of the couch cushion.

“Even rumors stem from some kind of truth, Riki.” You huffed out, but it didn’t seem like your brother would stop pestering you until you finally gave in. So after hours of continuously asking and begging, you finally gave in to him, telling him that you would ask your friends only if he brought his own.

And he agreed.

When that dreadful night finally came, you were stuck in a car with all of your friends. The crisp October air was cold on your skin, but the heating in the vehicle that Jay had turned on was enough to leave you comfortable. Jake had some random playlist filling the speakers jamming out in the passenger seat while Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung were crammed into the far back of the SUV, all three on the brink of passing out from how long the drive was.

“I thought you said this place was in town, Riki.” You grumbled, flexing your jaw, trying to ease the discomfort from having it placed on your hand as you stared mindlessly out the car window. However, now that it was fully dark outside, there wasn’t much to look at, seeing that there were no streetlights.

“I mean, the address said it was in town; how was I supposed to know it was in the ass crack of it?” Riki sassed as he scrolled through his phone, looking at whatever was posted on social media.

“Language, dude.” Jay scolded the boy, his eyes staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“Korean, what else?”

Pursing your lips, you reached over and landed a smack on the back of his head, resulting in him letting out a groan as his head fell forward.

“What was that for?!” Riki exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” You scolded him, and Riki grumbled before showing Sunoo something on his phone.

Shaking your head, you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of Jay’s seat, “How much longer do we have to go?”

Jay quickly glanced at you from the rearview mirror, much like he did Riki, before glancing down at the GPS on his dash.

"It's saying we have about ten or so minutes left until we get there." He told you before putting his eyes back on the road.

It was then that you started to notice just how desolate the surrounding area was. If this was such a hit attraction, why weren't any other cars around? Or any kind of sign of life. It was starting to give you the creeps. However, you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for your brother and that it was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you. So you just tried to relax, sitting back in your seat once more, eyes staring out at the blackness of the trees.

That feeling of unease only grew more once Jay pulled into the driveway, and you noticed that there wasn’t a single car in sight. You pulled your seatbelt off slowly, eyes searching everywhere, trying to find anything to settle this unnerving feeling that was twisting in your gut. As you opened the door, welcoming the chilling air outside, goosebumps littered your skin.

“Come on, y/n, get out. My legs are cramping!” Riki complained, pushing on your shoulder and urging you to leave the vehicle.

With a shaky sigh, you slowly let your foot fall to the ground, your knees feeling like jelly. Jay stepped out of the car, pocketing the keys before looking over at you. His eyebrows scrunched together, taking in the uneasy expression on your face.

“Hey, y/n, are you okay?” he asked, softly taking your arm and pulling you away from the open door so everyone else could pile out.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You trailed on as your eyes caught sight of the small sign that was hammered into the ground.

The Murder House

You could have sworn that you felt your heart stop. What kind of douchebag names their escape room that? As if the air around you wasn’t suffocating enough, seeing that only made it feel like you were fighting for your breath.

“Sunoo, you’re in the back on the way home.” Heeseung groans as he stretches out, his joints groaning in protest. Sunoo just gave the older male the side eye before moving to stand on the other side of Jake, who had just gotten out of the car.

“Riki, I thought you said this was a hit attraction.” You looked over at your brother, who was inspecting the area much like you were until his eyes landed on you. “Why is there no one here?”

“Calm your tits, sis. I’m sure we just came on a night that no one else wanted to?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that just means we won’t get stuck with some randos.” Heeseung shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Come on, y'know, we didn't come all this way just to chicken out," Jungwon grumbled, tossing his hair with his fingers.

You curled your lips inward, knowing that they were right and that you were just thinking too much about the situation. Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded your head in silent agreement. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze, ignoring the prying eyes that were on the two of you.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, okay? We’ll just get it over with, and if anything, we just let the timer go out.” He whispered softly in your ear, and the warmth of his breath eased your mind slightly.

“You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” You gave him a small smile before following after him and the others.

“God damn, Riki, why did we have to walk all the way up here?” Sunghoon huffed as all of you reached the steps of the porch.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was right because that was a pretty lengthy walk uphill. All of the guys nodded in agreement before Jake walked further up the step, trying to see if you were able to get in. He then noticed a welcome sign hanging from the door, with a small basket underneath holding a piece of paper.

“It looks like we got some instructions, boys and girls,” Jake exclaimed with a broad smile, turning with the paper held high.

You looked at him uneasily as he unfolded it with a flourish and started reading it out loud so everyone could hear.

‘You will have two hours to uncover the grand mystery and escape the murder house. You will find clues and puzzles, but be careful, for everything isn’t as it seems… Good luck!’

A shiver ran down your spine as he finished reading. You weren't sure whether it was the chilling breeze that swept through or the cryptic words of the note. However, you did know that it wasn't just your mind messing with you; there was something deeply wrong with this place.

“Hey guys, this seems really weird. Maybe we should just go.” You voiced your concern, earning yourself a collection of groans from the guys.

“Oh, come on, y/n. Stop being such a negative Nancy and have some fun for once in your life.” Jake rolled his eyes, his hands falling to his side.

Your jaw clenched shut, and a glare adorned your features before you leaned forward, snatching the paper out of his hands.

“You’re such an asshole, Jake.” The words tumbled out quietly as you reread the same message that Jake had just read aloud, trying to see if there was anything else that he had missed.

“Yeah, yeah.” The brunette rolled his eyes before going on to complain about how thirsty he was and how he was sure that they would have drinks for sale or something inside. Then, without another word, he opened the door despite the multiple protests from you and a few others.

“Jake, you can’t just walk in like you own the place!” You exclaim, hands slapping against your thighs as he disappears around the corner.

Letting out a huff, you step past the threshold, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that started to settle into your bones before going in the direction you saw Jake go, everyone trailing after you.

You walked into the foyer with a groan as you saw the older male chugging down a water bottle, some of it trickling down his chin before catching on his shirt. Your eyes then trail over to a tray that sat in the center of the table, six other bottles neatly placed inside.

“Jake, you can’t just take shit that’s not yours!” You scolded him, which only caused him to stop drinking, a gasp leaving his lips as he pulled the bottle away.

Riki then walked past you, looking down at the table and seeing some kind of note. Taking it, he held it up so everyone could see.

Free refreshments!

“The host probably just sat them out for people to take.” Riki shrugged, setting the paper back down on the table before grabbing a bottle for himself.

Your stomach turned as you watched him unscrew the cap, “we can’t just trust drinks that are given to us by some random strangers.”

Heeseung then moves past you, his arm brushing yours, before grabbing one of the bottles. He inspected it for a few seconds before meeting your gaze.

"It's still sealed; there's no way someone tampered with it," he explained before twisting the cap open and swallowing a few drinks.

“Weren’t you the one complaining about being thirsty in the car?” Riki raised an eyebrow at you, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but-” “But what, just drink the water, it’s not like you’re gonna die.” Riki quipped, causing your jaw to tighten. You knew he was right; you had been complaining about not bringing an extra drink for the road, but you weren’t quite sure if you were thirsty enough to drink some random water given out by a stranger. However, the dry feeling in your throat was telling you otherwise, so with some hesitation, you took the bottle Jay was handing you before twisting the cap off and bringing it to your lips; the liquid instantly quenched your dying thirst.

After everyone got a much-needed drink, they all needed you all gathered around the coffee table. You, Heeseung, and Jay were on the long couch while Sunoo, Niki, and Jake cramped on the loveseat, leaving the armchair for Sunghoon, Jungwon perched on the armrest.

“So… when does this game start?” Sunoo asked, leaning forward so his arms rested on his knees. Looking around, you couldn’t help but notice that the room was neatly decorated and clean, yet there was no sign of anyone being there.

Heeseung then leaned forward to grab something sitting on the table, catching everyone’s attention. He flipped it around, trying to find any indication of what it was, but nothing was written on the outside, so he opened the flap and pulled out the papers inside.

“It’s more instructions,” he explains as he starts to read them aloud. It says that as soon as the… the… sorry, I just feel really lightheaded.” He mumbles, shaking his head while squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stabilize his vision.

"Hee man, are you good?" Jay asked, putting a hand on the older male's shoulder, and Heeseung just nodded.

“Yeah, I just…” Heeseung’s words slurred as he started to sway, his eyes drooping.

Panic started to set in your chest as you noticed that Heeseung looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Just then, Jungwon slumped to the side, falling right into Sunghoon’s lap, causing him to start calling out the boy’s name.

You quickly stood to your feet to check on him, but you fell back into your seat just as soon as you stood, your vision swimming. However, as you looked around, you noticed that all of the boys were either slumped over or on the brink of passing out.

Worry then etched itself into your bones when your hazy vision landed on your brother's motionless form. You opened your mouth to call out for him and tried to get your body to move, but it wouldn't respond, and no words left your lips. Then everything seemed to fade, and your body grew weaker and weaker until you fell to the side, your head resting against Jay's back before everything went black.

Your body shot up with a gasp, and your ears rang so loud you could have thought it was coming from some kind of speaker. However, as it started to die down to a dull shrill, you realized that it was just you.

Looking around, you felt a chill run down your spine. You couldn’t see a thing. The room was shrouded in darkness, with not a single light in sight. Panic then started to set in as the earlier events started to play in your head.

Where was your brother? Or your friends? What caused you all to black out?

So many questions started filling your brain, some overlapping others as you fumbled to get to your feet. You blinked multiple times, trying to fully stabilize your vision and to see in the darkness.

A scream escaped from your lips as you tripped over something, landing in some kind of liquid. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you hurriedly tried to get to your feet, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Scrambling to your feet, you reach out in front of you, trying to find the wall, and as soon as you do, you start searching for the light switch. With shaky hands, you felt around the wall until you felt the switch. Letting out a relieved sigh, you flipped it, allowing the room to flood with light.

You looked up with a smile before remembering that your hands were still covered in whatever you had fallen into. Your gaze then fell down to your hands, only for the smile to be wiped away and your eyes to go wide.

Blood. Your palms were covered in blood.

Your stomach turns the urge to throw up very strong; dread then fills your veins as you slowly turn around. A high-pitched scream leaves your lips as your eyes are set upon the body of a man, blood pooling all around him.

Fear clouded your brain as you quickly turned back around to open the door. Rushing over to the wooden door, you wrapped your hands around the knob, hoping that it would turn. But it didn’t.

The door was locked, and you were trapped.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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babiebom · 1 year ago

Text

Sebastian NSFW Alphabet

A/N: the actual love of my life is next, be prepared for the others to either come over the next couple of weeks or the next couple of days depending on how fast I do them.

Tw: nsfw content(sex, kinks, cum, ome mention of piss yk the usual) cursing

Wc:idk

Stardew Masterlist NSFW Alphabet Masterlist

C- Cum (anything to do with cum,basically)

If you asked him to his face he’d just say that he’s okay with whatever you want but in truth he wants to ruin you completely. I think he would be very awkward and unwilling to admit that he wants to cum inside you and on you. Like he wants to go until you’re covered and filled with his cum. It’s probably a possessive thing.

E- Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I think I’ve talked about this before? Like he’s either a virgin or he’s had one or two people that he’s slept with before. I do think he and Abigail have hooked up at least once but stopped at some point because something happened. But I do lean more towards him being a virgin right now

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he learns quickly and never shows that he’s clumsy with it. Acts like he’s just learning what you like in order to pretend that he’s cool calm and collected. Inside he’s freaking out because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and is VERY worried you’re not enjoying yourself.

G- Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc)

He would want to be funny and relaxed in the moment, but he is quite serious because he’s kinda insecure, and wants everything to be good so he can’t really relax and be a little funny until you’re far into the relationship.

H-Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair is dark like his hair(I know people think he’s a redhead like his mom but I do like that his hair is dark.) he will let it get messy if he’s single but once he starts dating he trims it VERY low. Like he’s not bald but is very short in order to make everyone comfortable.

I-Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I don’t think he’s very romantic unless you ask him to make more of an effort. I don’t think he’s entitled or even open with asking for sex, but you can tell when he wants to do the do. He’s more like….idk how to describe it. It’s just he’s like more touchy and cuddly when he’s horny? If you ask him to be more romantic he’ll do the candle thing probably or something nerdy but cute.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

One of the horniest men to ever exist ngl. Dude probably jacks off at least once a day. Let’s face it, he’s an antisocial emo, who sits in his room all day because he doesn’t want to leave it and to further that point he even has a job that requires him to not leave it. Seb has so much alone time and so many naughty thoughts that he has to rub one out in order to even concentrate properly. Luckily no one really bothers him so he has only been caught probably once and as a teenager.

K- Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Jesus this man has too many to count so I might go top five. He likes role playing and dressing up for SURE. Wear that maid costume, or if you’re particularly dominant out HIM in a maid costume. Let him wear his Wizard cosplay like dude is DOWN. Bdsm. Literally(I say this word way too much)as a whole he likes bondage, he likes sadism and masochism(he will let you choose) he’s into dominant and submissive roles(again he will let you choose) it’s just FUN for him. He likes choking, and probably has a body worship kink (both ways), and overstimulation. Used to edge himself on accident and it became a thing for him

L-Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his room, or near the lake. He likes it most on his bed because after it smells like you, and he’s always dreamed of fucking a significant other in his bed during one of his jerk off sessions, and literally having you in his bed is a dream come true. Also on the couch in his room, because it’s kinda depraved. Like you two were so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t make it to the bed that’s a couple of feet away.

He likes the lake because it gives off the exhibition vibe while honestly being kinda private. Like he’s usually the only one by the lake at a certain time (unless Demetrius comes and ruins the vibes for him even if he’s usually on the other side of the lake) and living on the mountain top means that no one is really around to snitch on him. Like his mother is too wrapped up in her husband and his sister is too wrapped up in her experiments and robots to even notice that he’s railing you by the lakeside.

M- Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like I’ve said this for EVERY character so I’m gonna try to reword it from just *you*

His mind gets him going. Like he’s always thinking of something dirty, even if he’s doing something completely innocent. Like he can be working and all of a sudden his mind is wandering because his work is so boring that it can’t help but fill the boredom with things he finds fun. Like video games and fucking you until the both of you are on the verge of passing out.

N- No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Like the last letter, I feel like i say it a lot for each character but like anything that’s too gross. Like I think this man might go pretty far. Would probably even try piss stuff once if you really wanted it. So like anything that’s farther than that is a no.

O- Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would say his preference is giving but in reality it’s receiving. He loves giving head, don’t get me wrong. But he will never turn down you giving him head EVER. There’s just something about how the comepletely falls apart when your mouth is on him. He could cry from how thankful he is that you’re willing to do this for him.

Giving head I would say he’s decent and get better every time. He strives for greatness(lmao like he’s an elite employee) when it comes to getting you to cum. He will always try new techniques in order to get you cumming quicker each time. He wants you to feel the best he can make you feel.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

LOVES THEM. COMPLETELY!!!! Wants to be in you all day every day, and if quickies are the way to do it before he can have you all to himself, well, guess you’re gonna have a lot of quickies throughout the day. Oh well!

R-Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

Like I mentioned earlier, Seb has a bit of an exhibitionist kink, it’s more that he wants to show off that he gets to fuck YOU. Like look at my hot significant other, rather than showing off his skills or himself. He doesn’t really want people to watch at all(unless it’s like Sam who he’s cool with watching) but like he does wish that people knew that he somehow bagged the hottest person alive(you). So he’ll fuck you in semi public. Like at the lakeside in the middle of the night, or in his room when he knows everyone is awake

And yes he is always game to experiment. If it’s going to make the experience better for both of you, his thought process is: why not? Willing to try almost everything once.

T- Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think he probably owned like a vibrating cock ring or a pocket pussy or a tenga egg or something while he was single. Now that he has you he rarely uses those things anymore unless you want him to incorporate it into sex.

Will buy toys for you, and if you buy toys for him he won’t object. Likes using them during sex, even if he doesn’t think y’all need them.

U- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Likes to tease a decent amount, especially the more confident he gets. Will tease and laugh at you(in a mean but good way) if you’re begging or crying or something. Gives in if you beg just right though. He’s a menace not evil.

1K notes · View notes

rcvcgers · 23 days ago

Text

Loathe To Paint You, part one

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing ; rafayel x non!mc reader

synopsis ; you and rafayel are rival artists, always fighting for the spotlight. when it's revealed that rhys nixon, esteemed director of the famed art gallery the dreamscape, is looking for an artist couple who are the epitome of soulmates to be his next headliner, you and rafayel set your rivalry to the side and couple up in the hopes that you'll be chosen to be the headliner.

word count ; 7.4k words

author's note ; i would like to dedicate this part & series to a few people!!!! @zeskyzed , @kazbrkker , @jexireads . . . this is for you!!

content warning ; vulgar language, mention of an ass slap, nothing too crazy! slightly proofread! let me know if i miss anything!

my painters ✐ᝰ. ; @drowsyapple , @llamabois , @romils , @debrahhhhhhh , @kebarney , @mentaltrouble2201 , @itsmeaudrieee , @flamedancer13 , @lolightrealm , @ghoulishnero , @leeniverse , @justpassingdontworry , @yumesagashite , @m0ss-gremlin , @yunozumi , @azlyneamie099 , @m00nchildwrites , @mxkvlio , @nautismgremlin , @rafshottestgf , @blcknebula , @eve-ishu , @futurecorpse92 , @kaiii07 , @imhere2dosomething , @vyntheria , @queenkymmie

want to be a part of the taglist? click here!

The Dreamscape Art Gallery is every artist’s dream. They wish for their paintings to be chosen, to be hung on the gallery’s walls alongside other great artists. Every famous artist, known in every single country across the world and throughout the last fifty years, has been featured in The Dreamscape’s visions and exhibits.

Every exhibition they hold is otherworldly. Every detail, painting, sculpture, and layout is meticulously planned by the museum’s director, Rhys Nixon. He’s an older man now, being in his early seventies. He founded The Dreamscape when he was only twenty years old. Fifty years of excellence has made him a millionaire and has brought him worldwide fame and accolades.

Rhys is known for his kindness and sense of equality. He treats every person he meets with a gentle touch and heartwarming smile. His sense of life has been nothing but taking creative risks, treating those how you would like to be treated, and actions filled with love and splendor. He hates routine and people who play by the rules, always opting for unconventional art and sculptures that make people think. To Rhys, art should reflect the emotions of the soul while also challenging its audience to turn inward and reflect upon themselves.

The sad truth, though, is that Rhys Nixon is getting old. The Dreamscape has survived through his constant care and attention, always rotating a new theme every six months. He’s given up on so many shared memories with his children and wife, always tending to the museum and artists who fall at his feet. His children are all grown up now and are falling in love just as he did at their age. He is ready to pass down the museum to one of his children so he can live the rest of his life out in peace with his wife. Rhys wants to fall in love with his wife and family all over again before he leaves the world.

Love. What a splendid concept, no?

The Dreamscape is located on the opposite of Whitesand Bay. Rafayel is lucky to live so close by, usually taking a trip to the extravagant museum when he is need of inspiration or needs a break from Thomas and life.

The building itself is located alongside the shore, built from an abandoned warehouse. It was supposed to be a place to build ships but Rhys Nixon saw the potential for it become something better. The building is white on the outside but the inside colors change depending on the theme. It takes about a month or two to set up for the next exhibit, the floor to ceiling windows covered with navy blue satin curtains so the public cannot see what it to come. It has three floors, each one perfectly decorated and dressed for the theme.

The moon hangs low in the sky, beaming a warm yellow color. The stars in the sky are faint, quietly sparkling against the dark black sky. The brightest constellations tonight are Cygnus and Lyra, their stars brightest amongst the other faint dots. The further one gets from Linkon City, the more and more bright and exposed the constellations become.

Rafayel’s purple hair flows in the wind. He leans against the convertible’s door, the summer breeze warm against the Lemurian’s skin. The air is salty, the dark waves crashing against the tan rocks. The car drives away from Rafayel’s house in Whitesand Bay, driving through the narrow sandstone passageway. Rafayel smiles at the moon. He slowly inhales the salty breeze and closes his eyes, feeling the car turn down the road and away from his home and studio. He feels at peace.

“Promise me you aren’t going to fuck up?” Thomas asks, looking at Rafayel from the corner of his eye. The roads are clear, just a few other people passing by on their way home from the beach and back to Linkon City. Rafayel pulls down his sunglasses that sit on top of his head, covering his eyes from the bright headlights and to, well, avoid Thomas’ question. “Rafayel!”

“What?” the Lemurian whines. He sits up in his seat and pulls his sweater back over his shoulder, the knitted fabric soft against his touch.

“We can’t fuck things up tonight,” Thomas turns on the blinker and changes lanes, falling into the lefthand turn lane that enters The Dreamscape’s parking lot. Thomas looks away from the road, the car fully stopped, and narrows his eyes. “Tonight is important, okay? The future of your career is on the line—”

“My career? Now I know you’re messing with me,” Rafayel rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks in the opposite direction, the car now pulling into the large parking lot.

There aren’t many cars in the parking lot. The last night of the current exhibit at The Dreamscape is always dedicated to artists in the community and their agents. It’s a way for Rhys to find and assess new talent. To him, it’s not just the art he picks but the artist as well. No matter how talented somebody may be, Rhys will always choose the ones that are humble and kind.

“Look…I wasn’t going to tell you until we got inside, but,” Thomas parks the car. The engine shuts off and he turns to Rafayel, his face completely serious, no ounce of humor or playfulness hidden below his skin. “There’s a rumor among the other agents that Rhys’ upcoming exhibit is going to be his last. He is looking for two specific artists to fill all three floors and wants to closely work with them. It’s going to be a bloodbath when we get inside, Rafayel. If we don’t secure this for you, your—”

“What?!” Rafayel yells. Nearby artists and their agents look at the duo in their car as they walk to the art gallery. Thomas’ eyes widen. He frantically presses the button to close the convertible’s top but it malfunctions, moving back and forth, glitching. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?! I wouldn’t have worn this if I knew Rhys was on the line!”

“I didn’t want to make you nervous!” Thomas quickly retorts.

“Well, now I am! This is all your fault! This sweater is wrong and it doesn’t go with my pants! The cream color does not blend well with my pants!” Rafayel whines, frantically shrugging off his sweater, throwing it into the backseat.

All that remains is his white dress shirt underneath but the sleeves are covered in dried specks and brushes of colorful paint. Thomas reaches behind him and grabs the sweater, putting it on Rafayel’s lap. He leans over and points a finger in his face, glaring.

“You are going to put the damn sweater on and you’re going to like it! Understood?” Thomas’ breath is hot n Rafayel’s face. The painter rolls his eyes and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “And don’t slam my god damn doors!”

Rafayel flips Thomas off and slips the sweater back on over his shoulders. His body becomes jittery, nervousness flooding his body. He checks his fingers, quickly scratching away any leftover dried paint from that day’s work. The blues and yellows come off with ease while the reds linger behind, staining into his pale skin. Thomas catches up with him, smiling and waving to other people as he passes them by. They step in sync with each other, passing through the open doors as employees greet and hand them pamphlets of the exhibit.

Rhys’ current theme is “Messy & Sloppy.” The walls are painted pitch black. Black canvases are spread out in even increments, about teen feet away from each other, and are covered in vibrant paints. The colors mix and match, showcasing abstract expressionism at its best. With some canvases, the paint moves past the canvas and onto the walls, breaking free from its confines whereas others remain inside the small white space, barely taking up the entire piece. The lighting is bright enough for the vibrancy of the pigments to come out yet dark enough where it looks like the paintings are in 3D, popping out at its audience.

“Rhys Nixon gathered twenty artists for the exhibit,” Thomas quietly reads from the pamphlet, “and they created the art in house. It took about three weeks to complete. He would like to thank all of those who accepted his invitation to paint alongside him and his wife.”

Rafayel hates to admit it, but he is jealous of the artists that were chosen to partake in the exhibit. He would have loved to come in and join the abstract artists in creating messy masterpieces by just flicking his wrist and splattering paint onto the canvas. He wishes that he would be carefree with his art and not toss a canvas out whenever he makes a mistake. Maybe it was best that he wasn’t on the list.

“Is there anyone we know on the list?” Rafayel asks, moving to the next painting. It is mainly filled with pinks and purples, a tinge of green hitting the edges. It is reminiscent of those machines where the small pieces of paper spin around and the paint creates rims of colors around it.

“Let me check,” Thomas hums. His finger runs down the list, moving over names of artists from other countries and ones that are outside of their social circle. He stops on one name, though, and turns to Rafayel. “Bob is on here.”

“Bob?! Like…” disgust is prominent in Rafayel’s tone, his voice growing loud before he drops it below a whisper, “the guy we caught chugging a bottle of tartar sauce? That Bob?!” Thomas solemnly nods. “How the hell did Rhys pick that guppy over me? What kind of cruel joke is this?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to make for sure that he chooses you for this final exhibit, Rafayel,” Thomas nods, moving along to the next painting, “nobody will get in my way!”

“Nobody?” the painter glances at Thomas. The agent rolls his eyes and nods. “Well, at least there isn’t much competition!”

Thomas stops walking. Rafayel smiles to himself, crossing his arms, walking ahead of Thomas. When he finally notices that Thomas isn’t at his side, he turns around, rushing back over. With one eyebrow perked up and his hands on his hips, Rafayel narrows his gaze at Thomas.

“What? What could possibly have you glitching now.”

“She’s here.”

“Who is she, exactly?” Rafayel scoffs and rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest. Thomas nods his head to a space behind Rafayel. The Lemurian sighs and turns on his heel, following Thomas’ gaze. When his eyes finally land on what the agent was referring to, his jaw drops.

You stand beside your agent, Abigail, and laugh along with a group of painters and agents. You hold a glass of champagne in your hand, your light red lipstick staining the rim of the glass, and reach out to touch a man’s bicep, leaning in as you laugh. Your hair is perfectly straightened and is held back by bobby pins that are adorned with, Rafayel’s hater ass is assuming, fake diamonds.

His cheeks heat up, balls fisting at his sides. His blue and pink eyes fall to your outfit, which is just plain better than his. It is effortlessly cool compared to his mess of a sweater and designer sneakers. You wear a baggy navy blue dress that is fastened at your waist with a belt, complimenting your figure. A pair of sunglasses sits on top of your head. Rafayel suddenly becomes aware of his own sunglasses and takes them off his head, hooking them into the collar of his shirt.

Rafayel clears his throat and looks back at Thomas, who slips his phone into his jacket pocket. His cheeks are pink and he avoids Thomas’ gaze, scratching the back of his neck.

He may hate you, but fuck do you look amazing.

“I can’t believe she’s here!” Rafayel turns his back to you and the group, not wanting to be seen just yet. He fixes his hair, going off of vibes and aura alone in the hopes that it looks good.

“Are we really surprised, though?” Thomas turns with Rafayel, “She is a front runner for Rhys to pick. She hasn’t been used yet, either!”

“And we’ll make for sure she isn’t!” Rafayel snaps back. He turns back around, gasping and taking a step backward.

You and Abigail stand in front of them with smiles on your faces. Abigail wears a suit similar to Thomas’, matching the cool tones of his suit jacket but is more on the vibrant side than gray. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you swirl the champagne around in its flute.

“Rafayel,” you smile, voice teasing and provocative. Rafayel places his hands on his hips, holding back a sneer.

“Long time no see,” he cocks his head to the side, “you’re like a barnacle I can’t get rid of.”

You fake a laugh, turning to Abigail who joins you. Rafayel and Thomas blink at the two of you before sneaking a side eye glance. They shift uncomfortably in their place. You stop laughing and pass off the champagne flute to Abigail. You step forward, eyes focused on Rafayel’s, only a couple of inches separating you. You reach forward and grab one of the fronts of his cardigan, giving it a gentle tug before letting go. Goosebumps spread across his skin, uncertainty tingling the back of his mind.

“I love your outfit,” your tone is dripping with sarcasm and patronization, “it makes you look like a fathead sculpin.”

Rafayel gasps. His hand smacks his chest, protecting his fast racing heart. The tips of his ears go hot. You smirk and sink back in place, taking the glass back from Abigail.

“That’s right, Rafayel, your aquatic insults will no longer swim over my head!” you announce with a proud smirk. His eyes remain wide, watching as Abigail pulls out a document from her tote bag, holding it up. A tan document sits inside a black frame.

Linkon University. Degree. Marine Biology. Your name in big, bold letters.

Rafayel turns his attention back to you. Your smirk makes his skin crawl, a frown tugging his lips down. His eyes sharpen and yet you remain unfazed, checking out your perfectly painted nails under the hanging light of the gallery. You look back to him and chuckle.

“That’s right. I’m accredited, bitch.”

“You—!” Rafayel takes a step forward but Thomas pulls him back.

“Raf. We’re in public. Calm down,” Thomas whispers the warning in his ear.

Rafayel nods and pulls away. He adjusts his cardigan and covers his torso, turning his glare back at you instead of the crowd. Your smirk turns into a smile, giving him a little finger wave. He sticks his tongue out at you.

“So! Abigail,” Thomas claps his hands together. Your agent, and best friend, turns her attention to the man, raising an eyebrow. Despite your rivalry with Rafayel, Abigail has decided to remain neutral with Thomas since they’re both agents that deal with personalities that are…larger than life. “Have you heard the rumor?”

The two of them attach themselves to each other’s sides, Thomas even going as far as offering his arm to her because he is a gentleman (and yes he is married. His wife is okay with him doing this at events okay leave Thomas alone). Abigail links her arm with his and they walk ahead of you and Rafayel.

The two of you exchange dirty looks. You turn, flipping your hair in his face before following after the two agents. Rafayel’s face scrunches up and he shoves his hands in his pants pockets, groaning as he follows in your wake. He steps in pace with you, keeping a decent amount of distance between your bodies. Thomas and Abigail’s voices float behind them, landing in your and Rafayel’s ears.

“I did! Isn’t it exciting? Scary as fuck, though, I can’t imagine how much pressure artist’s feel trying to get one of the two spots,” Abigail smiles at Thomas. They stop by a few paintings as they walk, making small comments about the colors and how creative the artist was for using the canvas.

“I’m pretty scared too! Rafayel is destroying his career because he’s a social recluse who refuses to let people buy his art — or display it for that matter — and refuses to do interviews!”

Rafayel’s head pops up. He glares at the back of Thomas’ head. You snicker from his side, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. Rafayel turns to you, glaring.

“That’s not funny!” he says in a loud whisper. You continue to laugh at him, breaking the barrier between you two and nudging into his side. He pushes back into you, though, and you stumble over your feet. You quickly regain your balance. He laughs now and turns his face away pretending to look at a nearby painting where it is nothing but white and gray paints on the canvas.

“Don’t get me started!” Abigail begins. You gasp and Rafayel’s head turns back to you, a devious smirk forming on his face. “She has no variation whatsoever! All she does is paint the same damn thing! People are getting tired of it!”

Rafayel snorts and doesn’t even cover it up. What a bitch! You smack his arm and he winces, turning to you, ready to fight back when Abigail and Thomas snap their fingers at you. The two of you stop, slowly inching away from each other.

“You two need to behave!” Abigail whisper yells.

“Rhys can be watching!” Thomas adds. “I…I can’t even look at you,” he rubs his eyes, trying to soothe away the budding headache that forms in the center of his head.

You move to laugh but Abigail shoots a glare in your direction, shutting you up as soon as you open your mouth. You swipe your tongue over your front teeth and turn to Rafayel, who glances at you with an equally annoyed and ashamed expression. Thomas and Abigail situate themselves in front of the two of you. Their eyes burn into yours, leaning in as you lean away.

“Play nice. Drink some champagne or wine or whatever fruity cocktail I know you’re going to order, Rafayel,” Thomas groans.

“Hey—!”

“Go look at the art and mingle with other artists, go scope out the competition for Rhys’ final exhibit,” Abigail continues for Thomas.

“With him?!” you point at Rafael. He audibly scoffs at you and roll his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

Thomas and Abigail circle around the two of you. They place their hands on your shoulders and push you together. Rafayel’s hip bumps into yours and the two of you share embarrassed looks. Thomas shoots the Lemurian a glare. Rafayel rolls his eyes and holds his arm out, looking away and in the opposite direction. You turn away as well, turning your chin up and into the air while you admire the ceiling. Abigail reaches out and links your arm with Rafayel’s, Thomas giving your backs a gentle push.

You and Rafayel stumble over your feet for the first couple of steps before you fall into a rhythm at his side. He guides you towards the steps, Thomas and Abigail following in your wake, and quickens his pace. You try to keep up with him, your heels dragging against the ground as feverish clacks sound off across the floor. He’s quick up the stairs, practically dragging you with him. Thomas and Abigail share quiet laughs.

When you reach the last step, the tip of your heel catches against the step. A gasp flies from your lips, your grip on Rafayel’s arm tightening. He looks down at you, one eyebrow raising in the air, before the momentum from your fall brings him down to the floor with you.

You land face first on the ground. Rafayel tumbles on top of you, your arms becoming an amalgamated mess.

The room falls silent. Hell, even the person in charge of the playlist at the event stops the music! All eyes are on you and Rafayel. He whines in your ear, matching the ringing you hear. His purple hair tickles your forehead, hands resting on either side of your head as he pushes up from the ground. You move onto your back, looking up at him with a large red circle on your forehead from where you hit the ground. Your eyes are half-lidded, somewhat dizzy from the fall. Rafayel’s mouth falls open when he looks at the red spot on your head, a laugh escaping his lips.

“I would ask you how many fingers I’m holding up but I think the only thing you’re seeing are floating pufferfish,” Rafayel quietly snorts.

You scrunch your face at him and throw a weak punch to his chest. You cover your face with your hands, remaining on the ground as he gets up, standing on the step below the top. He brushes himself off, the dust falling onto your crumbled body, and steps over you, smiling and waving at nearby artists who watch with amused faces.

You sit up from the ground, a glare burning into the back of Rafayel’s head. Abigail leaps up the stairs and drops to your side. She helps you up. You brush the dust off of your body and fix your dress.

“Did I flash anyone?” you ask in a hushed whisper.

“No, your spanx covered everything,” Abigail teases. You roll your eyes as she grabs a nearby glass from a silver plate, pushing the cool glass up against your forehead. A mortified Thomas walks up to you, placing his hand on your elbow.

“I am so…so terribly sorry for Rafayel’s behavior,” his cheeks are flushed pink from embarrassment, “I swear, I need to keep him on a leash like a toddler.”

“Or train him like a dog or cat—”

“I think he prefers aquatic animals to land creatures,” Thomas and you share a breathless, half-hearted laugh.

“Yeah?” you smile before it immediately falls, “then he really is a fathead sculpin.”

You take your leave from Thomas’ side, making a beeline for Rafayel’s side. He looks at a blue and white painting, one that took inspiration from the wave sin the sea. Well, that’s what the pamphlet told you, at least.

Rafayel’s gaze sharpens when he feels your arm link back with his, tugging him to your side. He lets out a puff of air and turns his chin away from you, crossing his arms, which in turn makes your arms be at chest level instead of at your side. You force a smile through the adjustment, though, and look up at the purple haired man.

“Aw, they’re cute together!” an oh so ignorant person asks from behind Thomas and Abigail. They laugh in sync, shaking their heads before turning around. The woman blinks at them. A few other people catch on to Thomas’ and Abigail’s laughter and float over. All of their eyes move to you and Rafayel.

“No,” Thomas sighs, grabbing a champagne glass for himself and Abigail as the server passes by. He hands it over and brings it to his lips, drinking the golden liquid. “They are definitely not cute.”

“Whatever the opposite of what ‘cute’ is, that’s what they are,” Abigail chimes in.

“Ugly, plain, unattractive, hideous, a fucking train wreck,” Thomas finishes his glass.

The group’s eyes follow you and Rafayel as you move to the next piece of art on the wall. He leans down and whispers something into your ear. A squeak comes from the forming group. Everyone leans in, dragging in a collective breath. When Rafayel’s face is pushed away by your hand, the group exhales and relaxes into their spots.

“How did they meet?” another person in the group asks. Abigail sighs and drinks the rest of her champagne, looking at someone else in the growing group. She hands them her empty flute and they replace it with a glass filled with red wine. She nods with an impressed smile and tips the glass to them.

“It’s a long story,” she breathes out.

“Is it, though?” Thomas shoots back. Abigail rolls her eyes and take a deep sip from the glass. “Well…their complicated friendship started two years ago on Rafayel’s twenty-second birthday…”

Rafayel stands in front of a large painted canvas. A proud smile lays on his face, one arm crossed over his chest while the other holds up his chin. His purple and blue eyes scan the dark pigmented paints, the blues and reds calling out to him from his spot against the light wooden floors. He tilts his head from side to side, taking in the painting from a new angle.

You stand from behind but you don’t observe the piece, no, you observe him instead. You tilt your head with him, a small smile forming on your face. Boldly, you take a few step forwards and take the place at his side, hands behind your back. Rafayel doesn’t look at you. His eyes remain on the pain strokes on the canvas.

“So,” you begin in a calm, cool, and collected tone, “what do you think about the piece?” Your gaze flickers down to the small piece of paper that displays your name beside the painting. Pride fills chest, knowing that you have worked so hard to get one of your paintings to be displayed in a prominent art gallery, even if it is in a desert city like Aridum.

“It’s grotesque,” Rafayel’s voice is intrigued, filled with wonder and awe. “It defies all rules of art. There’s standards and this…” he makes a ‘tsk’ sound, “does not follow those standards.”

You, on the other hand, take his ‘compliment’ as an insult. Your face immediately sours and you turn to face him.

Smack!

Rafayel gasps, finally looking down at you. He places his hand over his arm on top of the spot that you hit him. You smirk and flip your hair over your shoulder, looking back at the painting. Rafayel laughs from shock and complete and utter disbelief. He diverts his gaze to look around the art gallery.

Nobody saw your surprise attack, nobody even flinched!

His jaw drops. The Lemurian swivels back to you. Without thinking, he reaches out and pinches your arm. You gasp and face him. He has the same smug smirk you wore just seconds earlier. You slap his arm again. He slaps your arm back. You hit him again, a hit in which he returns. The two of you begin to fight now, exchanging blows and slaps.

There’s a slap to the face! A punch to the stomach! A half-opened hand to the groin! Did Rafayel just slap your ass?

The two of you fall to the ground and roll around, bumping into nearby patrons as you pull on his hair and he scratches into your skin. Your yells and screams fill in the quietness of the art gallery.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? That’s not how it went!”

The group turns to look at Abigail. They lean in towards her and away from Thomas, who crosses his arms over his chest with an eye roll. Abigail chuckles and waves the group in closer. They follow her silent instructions like an obedient puppy dog.

“This is how it really went…”

You stand in front of your painting with your arms crossed over your chest. You wear a prideful smile on your face, eyes trailing over the painted lines on your red and blue coated canvas. The colors merge together and form a dark purple, although in the darker lighting of your studio it looked brown, and forms into the shape of a woman sobbing on the floor.

You gasp. Your shoulder lurches forward as Rafayel pushes past you. He reaches up to the wall, his hands grabbing the sides of the golden painted frame that hold your painting. The Lemurian rips it off the wall. A screech flies from your lips. He turns around and begins to walk away before you snatch the other side of the frame from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you yell at the man. He leans in, his torso now hovering over the large canvas.

“This belongs at the bottom of the sea! It’s hideous! We need to drown it!” he tugs on the painting.

The two of you take a few steps in his direction. Your fingers curl over the frame and pull back on it, moving back in your direction.

“It is not hideous!” your voice raises, “It is art! And art is subjective, motherfucker!”

“Mother…motherfucker?!I am not a motherfucker!” Rafayel screams back.

“Yeah?! Well you look like a bitch and a half then!” your retort is quick and sharp. It pierces Rafayel’s heart. His posture straightens, grip tightening on the frame so hard that the wood splinters. The man pulls on the painting and you pull back. His grip inches up the frame, moving closer to yours side. The two of you move in a circle, slowly picking up speed as you hurl insults at each other.

“Bitch!”

“Pufferfish!”

“Blobfish!”

“Asshole!”

“I bet your penis is microscopic!”

“Yeah? Well it’s bigger than yours!”

The room gasps. You let go of the painting, hands slapping over your mouth. The canvas tilts up with such force that it smashes over Rafayel’s head. The canvas stops right below his shoulders. His blue and pink eyes are wide, looking down at you. He clears his throat and adjusts his stance, relaxing with his hands on his hips while the canvas acts as a new fashion trend around his shoulders.

“Well…at least it’s destroyed now!”

“And now here we are!” Abigail proclaims with a smile. She finishes the wine in her glass and sets it down on a nearby table. “They have been rivals ever since that day!”

“You are so fucking ridiculous,” Thomas points his finger at Abigail who holds her hands up in the air as a defense against his words. “I mean, they are rivals, yes, but that’s not what went down between them. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh and yours isn’t?” she quips back, crossing her arms over her chest.

The group is suddenly bigger now with you and Rafayel out of sight, now on the third floor. Their eyes move back and forth between Thomas and Abigail as if they are at a tennis match where the current rally is tension filled and never-ending. If they didn’t know any better, they would think that they are the real enemies here instead of being really, really, really passionate allies.

“So, are they dating?” an older man’s voice rings out. Thomas snorts and looks inside his champagne flute, the glass now void of its golden beverage.

“Oh, no, they—” Abigail goes silent. Thomas looks at her, amused. Her eyes are big and wide, lips formed in a small frown, gulping away her sorrows. He shifts back and forth on his heels, slowly turning around to finish her answer.

“No, they are—” Thomas’s eyes shoot open. He stumbles over his words, incoherent blabbering now leaving his mouth. The large group that blossomed for your and Rafayel’s rival origin story now vanishes. The once gargantuan group disperses, a lot of the artists and agents flocking to nearby paintings and pretending to be invested in the abstract artwork. “They are…uh…” Thomas looks at Abigail. She’s of no use, completely frozen.

“They…they are not dating?” Rhys Nixon smiles at Thomas, hands resting on top of a simple black cane, leaning on it for support. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to talk to them about my next exhibit—”

“Yes!” Thomas breathes out, clapping his hands together. Rhys raises an eyebrow. He takes a step closer to the agents. Their hearts race in their chests the closer the famed art director gets. Thomas gulps and Abigail grabs his wrist, nails digging into the fabric of his silver-blue suit sleeve. “Yes! They are dating! I’m sorry for the confusion, Mr. Nixon.”

“Please,” Rhys extends his hand, Thomas immediately taking it, “call me Rhys!”

‘O-Okay, Rhys!” Thomas beams. “My name is Thomas and I am Rafayel’s agent!” Abigail pushes Thomas to the side and is the next one to shake Rhys’ hand.

“And I’m Abigail! I’m her agent! She adores your curations, truly!” the woman gushes over the elderly man. Rhys’s chuckle is gravelly yet is filled with warmth and delight. It puts both Thomas and Abigail at ease.

“Do you mind introducing me to them? I would love to discuss my final exhibit as The Dreamscape’s art director.”

“Yes! Of course! Follow us, please!” Thomas steps to the side, holding his arm out for Rhys to pass by. Abigail and Thomas attach themselves to Rhys’ side, helping him walk up the stairs to the third floor where you and Rafayel stand.

The third floor is empty. There’s a few sculptures scattered across the barren wasteland. The walls are lined with more canvases but the art pieces themselves are more conservative within the abstract style. Rafayel observes the pieces, humming to himself, while you stand by the large glass window that overlooks the sea. You sigh heavily. The lights from the building illuminate the nearby waves, the white bubbles from the collision capturing your attention.

Rafael’s attention soon turns to you. A faint smile spreads across his face. Je never knew you that you liked the ocean so much. Every time you ran into each other in Whitesand Bay, he always caught you looking out at the waves, a sense of longing in your eyes.

The Lemurian steps forward, silently closing the distance between you. His eyes catch how your smile grows when there’s a particularly large wave of water that crashes against the sandstone rocks. He stands right behind you. He can feel the warmth from your body on his chest, chills running down his spine. He tilts his head to the side, admiring your side profile.

He wonders how your features would look on a canvas but in his style instead of yours.

“You know, I can always throw you into the ocean if you want me to,” Rafayel’s voice is close to your ear. You shriek and jump, your hand backhanding him across his face.

“Fuck! You scared me!” your voice is loud and trembles. Rafayel stumbles backwards, holding his face in his hands. “Please tell me I didn’t break your nose! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! You were just…there!” You reach out for him but he takes a step back, shaking his head no. You obey his silent command and stay where you are, watching as he slowly uncovers the bottom half of his face.

His nose isn’t broken, at least it doesn’t look like it, but his cheek is definitely a bright red color with a hint of purple shining through. You flinch and close your eyes, shaking your head, the stinging sensation somehow attaching itself to your cheek now.

“What?!” Rafayel’s voice is loud and trembly, “Is it bad?! How badly did you fuck me up?!”

“It could be worse! It could be a lot worse!” you immediately respond. You turn to face the stairs, giving him some privacy for whatever reason.

Well, the actual reason being that you’re so fucking embarrassed that you just did that to him. You hate the guy and his stupid fucking fish-themed guts, but you would never want to purposefully and physically hurt him! Just his career…and pairings…and the occasional sculpture he comes up with every now and then to try and one up you.

Thomas and Abigail’s head pop out from over the stairs. You sigh and wave to them, but they wear an expression on their face that tells you that something is simply amiss. Your face falls. Rafayel’s footsteps grow loud behind you, his presence becoming all too familiar at your side. Your cheeks heat up and you avoid his gaze, feeling his disappointment and annoyance burning into the side of your head.

“And here are the lovebirds!” Abigail declares with a bright smile.

Rafayel and yours faces contort from confusion. With a shared glance, you watch as Thomas and Abigail appear over the stairs with the one and only Rhys Nixon. Abigail walks ahead, her hands frantically waving at the two of you and hidden from Rhys’ sight. She mouths three words to you and Rafayel.

You. Are. Dating!

“What?” you whisper. She shakes her head as Rafayel takes a step away from you. She rushes to his side and bumps her hip into his, your bodies colliding, and she wraps his arm around your waist like a pro before Rhys can notice.

“Ah! Hello you two!” Rhys smiles. You return it, feeling Rafayel’s grip on your waist tighten. You clear your throat and nudge your elbow into his side before moving your arm around his torso. “How is the lovely couple doing?”

“The lovely couple!” you repeat his words with a shocked laugh. You look up at Rafayel, who looks completely bewildered despite the grin that spreads across his lips. You turn look at Thomas, who stands behind Rhys, furiously typing on his phone. “The lovely couple is……doing well!”

“Yes! They are!” Abigail chimes in, stepping in front of you two just as Thomas passes off his phone to Rafayel.

He wants a couple to headline his next exhibit. You two fuckers are dating! Act like it!

You blink at the message, struggling to understand before Rafael slips the phone into his pocket. He pulls you closer to his side, fingers curling into your dress and body. You gulp. Abigail steps back out of the way, no longer eclipsing the happy couple.

“What happened there?” Rhys chuckles, using his cane to gesture to Rafayel’s freshly bruised face.

“Oh! That!” Rafayel’s laugh is effortless and cool. It didn’t come off as unnatural or forced, but rather genuine and wholehearted. “My silly cutie here got a little too excited when she saw the beautiful view from up here!”

A belly laugh booms from Rhys’ mouth. Everyone else joins in with his laugh, exchanging awkward glances and winks from the agents behalf. His laughter dies down and he places his cane back down onto the floor, resting some weight onto it.

“How long have you two been together for?” Rhys’ question makes you and Rafayel look at each other with puckered lips and narrowed eyes.

“Um…great question, first of all,” you gush, buying the two of you time. “We met two years ago at a gallery!”

“Yes! And I asked her to be my girlfriend a year later!”

“So…you have been together for a year?” Rhys leans in. The two of you nod and exchange timid smiles and nods.

“Yup! She’s my little guppy!” Rafayel laughs.

“Yes! And he is my…” you pause, swallowing as you try to come up with something, “he is my…fathead sculpin?”

“Now that is just wonderful!” Rhys turns to your agents, who feverishly nod. When he turns back to you, they signal for you to keep going with thumbs up. “Your wonderful agents were telling everyone your meet cute! It caught my attention and, well, I thought I would introduce myself and extend an invitation to be courted.”

“Courted?” you repeat. He nods.

“Yes…as you may know, my next exhibit shall be my last. I want it to be a testament to the time and energy I have put into The Dreamscape as well as a celebration of my love for the art community and my family,” Rhys sighs.

He walks to a nearby painting, one that has bright pinks and reds and purples on it. Rafayel guides you over to him, settling in the space beside him. You pinch his waist. He lets out a quiet ‘oof’ before pinching you back, your hips pushing into his as you try to escape his touch. When Rhys turns around, the two of you immediately return to normal and smile at him.

“Love. That is the final theme,” he nods a knowing nod, “I know it may be cheesy, but I have never done it before. I wish for a couple to fill up all three floors The Dreamscape. I want to see their passion and desire for each other on these walls. I also want it to tell a story…your stories. How you fell in love.”

“That sounds like a wonderful theme, Mr. Nixon,” you breathe out.

Your words are genuine. If you weren’t stuck in a fake relationship with Rafayel and in a real one with someone else. Another creative who matches your artistic genius — one that is not Rafayel — and is there to push you past your limits instead of holding you back

“Thank you, young lady,” Rhys nods his head and takes a step closer to you and Rafayel. “I need to make for sure that the couple I choose are pure and not in it just to be featured in the gallery. I wish it to be as genuine as possible. There are many others who have already tried to be my…perfect couple, but I can sense that there is something real between you two...I need the epitome of soulmates for my final work. Nothing more, nothing less!”

Rafayel pinches your waist. You chuckle and look up at him, face scrunched and disguised as a loving face when in actually you’re silently planning for his demise.

“See! That is what I’m talking about! The love you share!” Rhys beams. “I’ll be in contact with your agents about meeting again soon, yes?” The two of you nod. “Wonderful! I will see you soon, then!”

Rhys bows his head and walks off. You wave, watching as the elderly man is helped down the stairs by Thomas. Once he is out of sight and Abigail gives a thumbs up, you shove the Lemurian away from you and shudder.

“Too close!” you quietly squeal. “Now I have your douche perfume all over me!”

“Okay, first of all: rude! Second of all: bitch! My perfume is delightful! It carries the scent of the sea with hints of—”

“Rafayel, shut the fuck up,” Thomas rushes over. The four of you stand in a circle. You stand across from Rafayel and stare at his face, memorizing the way a crease forms between his furrowed brows and the way he pouts when his agent chastises him. He turns his head and your eyes meet for a split second before you turn away, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“So, you heard the man,” Abigail takes a deep breath. “You two are a couple until this whole thing is over…or until he doesn’t pick you then we can stage a very convenient break-up to convince him that the stress was just too much. Maybe we can guilt him into giving us some connections, you know, gain something from this!”

“That’s horrible, but I agree!” Thomas points at Abigail. “We need to keep this charade going. Think you two can handle it?” Before either of you can disagree, Thomas claps his hands and smiles. “Great! Now, I’ll be in touch with Abigail about making you two appear more…loving with each other.”

Thomas takes Rafayel’s arm and yanks it back around your waist. He gasps and his cheeks turn pink. The agents furiously fix your appearance; they fix your hair and cover up the bruise on Rafayel’s face with a smudged kiss from your red lipstick (thank you, Thomas), and even switch around a few accessories to make it seem like you two share everything. Once they are down, they push you in the direction of the stairs, ready to feed you to the wolves.

Both of you hesitate when you reach the top step. Rafayel’s hand is at home on your love handle, dangerously close to your ass while your arm is wrapped around his torso and your other hand rests on his chest. You gulp. His body trembles, just ever so slightly, and you take a deep breath in sync. With one final look, the two of you nod, stepping down the first step.

Rhys’ courtship will only be a few weeks, right? He’ll probably only have a few meetings here with you two here and there. A simple few interrogations to try and weed out the phonies from the real couples. You and Rafayel descend into a minefield, a no man’s land where your only ally is each other.

Buckle up, fuckers, because oh my, my! What a ride this is going to be!

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 i love seeing what y'all have to say! <3

#rafayel x non!mc reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel fluff #rafayel romcom #love and deepspace romcom #love and deepspace #qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #rcvcgers writings #loathe to paint you ✐ᝰ

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winterdeepelegy · 6 months ago

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Vanilla Gpose Tips

I get asked occasionally how I make my screenshots if I'm not using shaders or mods. The short answer: Patience. Gpose's suite of tools is a lot more robust than it used to be when it was first released. But if you want a screenshot to really shine without using third party add-ons, it's not something you can just go into gpose, take a printscreen and get back out. You might capture a moment with nice lighting that way, but it takes more than that. 1. Choosing a location and time of day is job one. What kind of mood are you trying to convey? Does your intended screenshot have a theme (or a prompt?) or are you just looking at your new glam and marveling at how fine your character looks in it? Does a lighter or darker setting suit the character better? Setting, time of day, and weather can affect this. 2. You can stop time and weather from changing. I keep this on by default because it can take upwards of 30 minutes IRL to fine tune a screenshot. The middle button below. Make sure it's highlighted.

3. Toggle battle effects on/off. It's the button right next to the time/weather stop, the icon of the guy holding the sword. If the icon is highlighted as it is in the screenshot, your battle effects are on. If you want to capture pure motion and not worry about battle effects, turn this off. 4. Wet effect. Use it, use it, use it. It doesn't just make clothes look wet and make skin glossy, it actually helps to bring out texture and detail on the character's outfit. Especially since the graphics updates in 7.1. I've found it also adds shine to hair and can help the eyes stand out more.

5. Sticker Mode. Yes, there are oodles of cute minion stickers, flags, and numbers, but there are also some great effects to be found in the Decorations category! Sparkles and twinkles, lens flare, among other things can help enhance metallic points on a glamour, AND they can be resized! So if you want a more subtle twinkle on the edge of your spectacles or earrings, you can tilt and downsize your desired sparkle. There are also cute flowers and hearts. 6. Quick Keys. If you're playing on a keyboard, the 1 on your top number row freezes the screenshot. This is extremely helpful if you're trying to catch a battle emote right at a specific moment. If you miss it, keep trying because emotes will continue to cycle until you change them. R and Scroll Lock will both hide/unhide the gpose controls. X will turn on lighting. Space Bar will toggle your character to stop them from facing the camera and vice versa. 7. Lighting Intensity is Dependent on Distance. The closer you're zoomed in on your character, the brighter the light is going to be when you turn it on. Try adjusting your zoom in or out and toggling the light to see if the illumination is to your liking. You can also adjust the RGB on the lights to fit the mood/environment. I also recommend turning on Manual Brightness. 8. Color Filter and Screen Effect. These two features, in my opinion, require the most patience. Not every color filter and screen effect will work well together in every scenario. Click through and preview all of them in your screenshots and see if some SE's work better with your preferred CF. You might find an unexpected combination that you love. Trailer and Echo color filters are great for flashbacks (no one uses Aetherometer, it's an eye bleeder). Use the Pencil or one of the monochrome CFs and Noise 2 SE to create a nice black and white film or photo effect. 9. Frames. Frames are one of the more limited features and not always needed in order to capture a great screenshot. Action poses benefit from the Cinema frames, however, while more lighthearted moments play well with the photo options.

10. Emotes. Before you enter Gpose, be sure to /groundsit to clear your most recent emotes. Summoning mounts and minions also count as emotes for the sake of Gpose. By the same token, you can use battle abilities before entering Gpose, and this is what it will cycle through. You can't activate a battle ability while IN Gpose. You will have access to all of your non-battle emotes and facial expressions, though. You can combine any emote with any facial expression by choosing the action first, and expression second, so you can /prettyplease and /awe at the same time to make your character look hilariously horrified. If you enter Gpose with an active battle ability, you can still apply a facial expression to it from within the tool. 11. Bits and Bobs. Enable Manual Focus and Depth of Field will help bring out the details of the background more, and will help to make a more cohesive screenshot. Manual Focus is great if you want your character in the frame, but you want to shift the focus elsewhere, to an object or another person in the background for example. In the same menu where you'll find emotes, click the second eye button to "Track Camera". Your character's eyes will follow the position of the camera. Lastly, again, have patience. Allow yourself time to play with all the tools Gpose has to offer. You're probably not going to get the winning screenshot after clicking Printscreen just one time, you should take multiple shots from different angles with different lighting and effects, then compare them all and pick the ones you like best. And remember, even if it's the true endgame, it's not a competition. Your screenshots are not "worse" or "boring" just because you're not using third party tools. I look forward to seeing what you create, and you should too.

#ffxiv #ff14 #ooc #out of ice

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

Text

A Manly Guard Dog

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: You've been asking your husband for a dachshund, but he tells you that you need a manly dog. When the K9 unit gets a new recruit, Tim reevaluates his view of dachshunds.

Warnings: teasing/banter, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Tim?” you whisper over your dimmed phone screen. “Are you asleep?”

“That depends,” your husband Tim answers. “Why?”

“Look at this.”

“I’m asleep.”

You roll your eyes at his poor attempt to avoid talking to you, even though it is the middle of the night and he has to be at the station in the morning. Despite feeling bad for waking him up, you know he’s awake and need to ask him something important.

“Tim, it hurts,” you add.

“What hurts?” he asks as he sits up quickly. After he pushes up onto his hands, Tim leans toward you and reaches over you to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.

“Look,” you repeat, extending your phone toward Tim so he can see the dog on the screen. “It hurts because I don’t have one of my own.”

“A dachshund? We’re back to this again?” Tim asks incredulously.

“Tim, I want a dog.” Your words are emphasized by your pout, but Tim only grunts as he turns the light off and lies down again.

“If we ever get a dog - big if,” Tim murmurs, “it has to be a manly dog. One that can protect you when I’m not here.”

“We can train a dachshund to be a guard dog,” you argue. “They’re vigilant, loyal, vocal, and easy to train. Tim, it would be perfect and so cute!”

Tim tosses an arm over your waist and kisses your temple before he responds, “Go to sleep.”

As you move closer to him to do just that, he whispers, “I love you, but we’re not getting a wiener dog.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Lucy calls as Tim exits the locker room the following morning. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Then don’t tell me,” Tim deadpans.

“So, there’s a new K9, right?” Lucy begins as they walk toward the bullpen.

“And you’re telling me.”

“The trainer brought Officer Fuzz over. Cutest name ever, I know. But when we heard that they were working with a new breed we thought it would be a husky or something. It’s not. It’s so much better. Guess what it is, Tim!”

Tim stops in the middle of the bullpen. A crowd of officers surrounds the K9 trainer, and between two cops, Tim can barely make out the shape of…

“A dachshund?” Tim asks loudly.

“Yes!” Lucy cheers. “Isn’t it awesome?!”

“I can’t believe this.”

“C’mon,” Lucy urges, pulling Tim along by his arm. “Meet Officer Fuzz.”

Tim squats to pet the friendly dog and shakes his head at the tiny K9 vest he’s wearing.

“Nice to meet you, Fuzz,” Tim mumbles. “My wife’s never going to let me hear the end of this, pal.”

“Bradford,” Wade calls from the other side of the circle. “How would you like to take them out for a ride along?”

Tim stands as the trainer adds, “I’d love to join one of the best officers in the field to test Officer Fuzz’s progress.”

“Sure,” Tim answers through gritted teeth. “But are dachshunds really worth anything in a job like this?”

The trainer and Officer Fuzz follow Tim toward his shop, and Tim can’t help but watch the small dog walk happily through the station on his first day.

“If they’re trained right, they certainly can. They’re bred to hunt badgers by tracking scents and entering their burrows. A lot of those skills translate to police dog responsibilities. Basically, because of their intimidating bark, alertness, devotion, braveness and stubbornness - courtesy of their hunting instincts - they’re perfect. Fuzz here can scare a suspect or locate bombs, drugs, you name it.”

“Scare suspects until they see him, you mean,” Tim points out.

“Well, Bradford. Let’s test your theory.”

“LAPD!” Tim yells. “On the ground!”

Behind him, Officer Fuzz barks.

“Is that a dog?” the suspect attempting to steal a sports car asks. “Your car doesn’t say K9.”

“Show me your hands and drop to your knees!” Tim repeats. “Or I can call my K9 partner over here.”

The man seems to weigh his options, then drops his tool and raises his hands over his head.

“Scared of dogs?” Tim asks.

“Police dogs are crazy dangerous, man. Scared is smart, that’s what my-“

“I don’t care who said it,” Tim interjects before he begins reciting the Miranda rights.

When Tim opens the back door of his car, Officer Fuzz growls lowly before barking once.

“Whoa! I’m not sitting by that thing!”

“See the barrier? That’s for your safety, not ours,” Tim says. “Now get in.”

At lunch, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and begins to type. He hesitates, however, and looks away before he can finish the search.

“Chen!” he calls, waving for Lucy to join him. “Where can I adopt a dachshund?”

Lucy’s eyes widen in excitement before she asks, “You’re getting a dog?!”

“I’m getting my wife a dog.”

“Because of Officer Fuzz,” Lucy states (not asks).

“No,” Tim defends. “No, I just… Dachshunds are a good option for family pets and protection.”

“Which you know because of Officer-“

“Fine, yes,” Tim admits quickly. “Do you know where I can adopt one or not?”

“Maybe you should ask the K9 trainers,” Lucy suggests. “They’ll know where to get a good one.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“Sure thing.” Lucy stands to return to her partner, but not before she says, “And I’m glad you’re finally listening to your wife.”

“No, quiet,” Tim commands. “Good. Now, sit.”

“Tim?” you call from the front door.

“Uh, one second!” Tim calls.

He sounds frazzled, and you walk toward his voice before you stop. Tim is whispering to someone, but you can’t make out what he’s saying before the bedroom door opens.

“Hi,” you greet. “Are you okay?”

“You’re home early,” he replies, gripping the doorknob tightly.

You glance at the time on your phone and say, “No, I’m not.”

Tim’s brows furrow as he looks at his watch. He nods, then laughs and locks eyes with you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask.

“No, well, yes, but no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Tim sighs and reaches toward you. You don’t hesitate to step forward and lay your hand on his. With his hand wrapped around yours, Tim leads you into the bedroom, and inside, a brown blur races toward you.

“Tim!” you exclaim as the long-haired dachshund puts its front paws on your leg and wags its tail happily. “A dachshund!”

“Canis lupus familiarias. The K9 trainer that helped me out told me all about them,” he explains.

“Is he…” You trail off, unprepared to hear a negative answer.

“He’s ours,” Tim answers happily. “He’s already been obedience trained and I’m going to work with him to create the smallest but mightiest guard dog you’ve ever seen.”

You pull the dog into your arms and hug him kindly before you lean against Tim’s chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into Tim’s eyes.

“Sorry I said no for so long.”

“What changed your mind?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and you turn your attention to your new pet, or guard dog as Tim introduced him to you.

“Was it Lucy? I bet it was Lucy,” you whisper to the dog.

“It was Officer Fuzz,” Tim grumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Officer who?”

“New K9 who I’m sure you’ll meet next time you visit the station.”

“I love you.”

Tim kisses your head before he asks, “Wait, me or the dog?”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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hereforuconnwbb · 21 days ago

Text

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER NINE

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 11.2k

warning: mentions of drugging and sa

heres chapter 9 for u guys !!! 🫶🏽 i wasnt too sure on how to continue at first, but i think ive finally got it. im hoping this chapter makes sense and ties everything together well 😭 im coming towards the end of this series—maybe just one or two more chapters left ?? im not entirely sure yet, it really depends on how i can wrap up the story and get it to flow. but um anywayssss i hope yall enjoy it !!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days had passed since Azzi unblocked Paige, but no messages had been sent. The silence lingered between them, heavy and unspoken. Paige had no way of knowing she was unblocked, and Azzi wasn’t sure if she wanted to be the one to break the silence first.

Paige, on the other hand, was still trying to process everything. She had spent the last few days running on autopilot—going to practice, going to class, pretending everything was fine when, in reality, she was anything but. The weight of everything with Lexi, the betrayal, the misunderstanding with Azzi—it all sat on her chest like a crushing force.

And now, Paige was faced with a decision.

Would she take the risk of reaching out, knowing she could be ignored? Or would she let Azzi come to her when she was ready?

—------------

Paige was sitting in her dorm, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, when it rang. She didn’t recognize the number at first, but as soon as she picked up and heard the voice on the other end, her heart started racing.

“Paige Bueckers? This is Officer Reynolds from the Storrs Police Department. We’re calling to follow up on the investigation regarding Alexis Carter.”

Hearing Lexi’s full name sent a chill down Paige’s spine. She sat up straighter, gripping her phone tighter. “Yeah, I—um—yeah. What’s going on?”

“We wanted to inform you that we’ve taken Alexis Carter into custody.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected them to move this fast.

“We gathered enough evidence based on the videos you and Serena provided, along with the footage we obtained from Ted’s and testimonies from other witnesses. She was located earlier today, and after questioning, we proceeded with the arrest. She’s facing multiple charges, including administering a substance with intent, identity fraud for the messages she sent from your phone, and harassment.”

Paige exhaled, but the relief she thought she would feel wasn’t there. She still felt suffocated, still felt the weight of what had happened pressing down on her.

“So…what happens now?” she asked quietly.

“She’s being held in custody, and the case is moving forward. We’ll be in touch if we need you to provide further statements, but we have substantial evidence. We also wanted to check in with you—make sure you’re alright and see if you need any additional support.”

Paige wanted to say she was fine. That now that Lexi was out of the picture, everything would just go back to normal. But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The officer was silent for a moment before speaking again, their tone softer. “That’s understandable. This was a traumatic event, and it’s going to take time to process. If you need resources or someone to talk to, we can arrange that for you. You’re not alone in this, Paige.”

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure what she needed. Right now, all she could think about was Azzi.

“Thank you,” she said after a pause.

“Of course. We’ll keep you updated as things progress. If you remember anything else or need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

With that, the call ended. Paige let her phone drop onto her bed as she stared at the wall, mind racing.

Lexi was finally gone. But the damage had already been done.

And now, she had to figure out how to pick up the pieces.

Her mind swirling with emotions after the call with the police. She didn’t know what she was expecting by sending the message, but something in her made her grab her phone and type it out anyway. She stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send, her finger hovering over the send button for a moment longer than necessary.

It was a long shot, a desperate move, but at this point, she had nothing left to lose.

“Azzi, I don’t know if this will even go through, but I just need you to know… I was the victim in all of this. I would never want to hurt you. Whatever happened wasn’t me. Lexi is the one who did this. There’s proof now, and the police are involved. I thought you’d never want to talk to me again, but I’m not giving up on us. I just want you to know the truth. I can’t keep living with this silence between us. Please, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just had to say this. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

She reread the message a few times, wondering if it would even reach Azzi. Maybe the damage was too deep. Maybe she didn’t want to hear from her anymore. But then again, Paige hadn’t known what Azzi had been thinking. She didn’t know if Azzi had even been given a chance to see the full picture.

Before she could second guess herself, she tapped the “send” button.

The seconds stretched, each one feeling like an eternity as Paige watched the little spinning icon. She held her breath, waiting. And then, the message went through.

It wasn’t a huge sign, not by any means, but it was a glimmer. She blinked, staring at her screen. Her heart skipped a beat. The message was sent.

She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t thought for a second that Azzi would unblock her. But the fact that the message had gone through meant something. Azzi had at least read it—or would, eventually.

But that was all she could do for now. There was nothing more she could say. She had apologized. She had explained. The rest was up to Azzi.

Paige set her phone down beside her, a weight still heavy on her chest. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but a small part of her felt a glimmer of hope. Even if it was just a sliver, it was something.

She wiped away the tear that had escaped her eye and curled into herself, hoping for a message that might never come.

—------------

Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup, her mind racing with thoughts of everything that had happened. She hadn’t thought much about Paige in the past few days—not really. It was hard not to, of course, but Azzi had done her best to keep herself distracted. Her heart ached every time she thought of Paige, but she knew she needed time. Time to process everything, to let the anger fade, and to try to heal.

And then, her phone buzzed.

Azzi glanced down, seeing Paige’s name pop up on the screen. She hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t even thought about whether or not Paige would reach out again.

Her thumb hovered over the message. She hadn’t blocked Paige’s number, not completely, but she’d kept herself away for a reason. But now, as she stared at the message, something in her shifted. Her thumb tapped the notification, and the message opened.

Paige: Azzi, I don’t know if this will even go through, but I just need you to know… I was the victim in all of this. I would never want to hurt you. Whatever happened wasn’t me. Lexi is the one who did this. There’s proof now, and the police are involved. I thought you’d never want to talk to me again, but I’m not giving up on us. I just want you to know the truth. I can’t keep living with this silence between us. Please, when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I just had to say this. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Azzi closed her eyes, the weight of Paige’s words sinking into her chest. She exhaled a shaky breath, trying to process what she had just read. For the longest time, Azzi had been convinced that Paige had hurt her. She hadn’t understood the truth, and the anger and pain she’d carried had clouded her.

But now it made sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Caroline’s voice from a few days ago. She had shown Azzi the videos, the evidence Paige had sent. Azzi hadn’t wanted to look at it, hadn’t wanted to know, but Caroline had insisted. The proof had been undeniable. Lexi was the one who had drugged Paige, and she had kissed her while Paige had been unconscious, taking a picture to frame her. Azzi had watched the videos, and each one had broken her heart even more.

Azzi had been so angry with Paige, but Caroline had shown her the truth and it was a lot for her to take in. And now, reading Paige’s message, everything was clearer.

Azzi: Paige… I didn’t know. I should have listened to you from the start, and I’m so sorry for blocking you. Caroline showed me the videos, and I see what happened. I can’t imagine how you must have felt. I’m sorry for everything… for not giving you the chance to explain. I was hurt, but I know now you didn’t deserve that. I understand now, and I’m so sorry.

Azzi sat back, her chest tight. She had no idea how Paige would respond, but she knew this was a step toward healing. Toward understanding. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in days, Azzi felt like she could breathe again.

She had forgiven Paige, but now, they had a lot to work through.

Her heart still ached, but there was hope now. Hope for something they could rebuild, piece by piece.

—------------

Paige’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared at her phone, waiting for Azzi’s reply. Her fingers felt cold, and she was almost afraid to open the message. What if Azzi didn’t respond? What if this was it?

When her phone buzzed, Paige quickly unlocked it, holding her breath as she saw the message from Azzi.

Paige let out a shaky breath, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. Her thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of what to say next.

Paige: “Thank you for saying that. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but I didn’t know if you’d ever want to hear from me again. But I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She paused, thinking about everything that had happened. It was still a mess, but at least they were starting to clear the air.

Azzi: “I was really mad at you, Paige. But I see now that it wasn’t you. I should’ve trusted you more. I just couldn’t understand.”

Paige: “I get it. I messed up too, but I promise, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Azzi: “I know. It’s just going to take me some time to process everything. I don’t know what happens next, but I think I’m ready to start figuring it out.”

Paige smiled at the message, her heart a little lighter now.

Paige: “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Paige sat on her bed, staring at her phone, rereading her conversation with Azzi. She didn’t know what this meant for them, but at least they were talking again. That was something.

Before she could get lost in her thoughts, her dorm door swung open.

“Knew it!” KK’s voice rang out as she and Ice stepped inside, grinning.

Paige blinked up at them, confused. “Knew what?”

Ice smirked. “That you and Azzi would talk again. You were looking miserable as hell the past few days, but something about you feels different now.”

KK nudged Ice. “Look at her, man. She’s literally glowing.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips.

Ice crossed her arms. “So? What happened?”

Paige exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “She unblocked me.”

KK let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh shit, for real?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah… we talked. She saw the videos, and she gets it now. She apologized for not listening to me.”

Ice grinned. “That’s big, P. She still cares.”

Paige shrugged, but she felt lighter than she had in days. “She needs time, which I get. I just—” She sighed, shaking her head. “I just hope we can move forward.”

KK flopped onto Paige’s bed. “You will. She knows the truth now. Just give it time.”

Ice sat beside her, nodding. “And we’ll be here making sure you don’t spiral while you wait.”

Paige huffed out a laugh, appreciating them more than she could put into words. For the first time in a while, things didn’t feel so hopeless.

The conversation shifted to the next game, and KK leaned forward, her tone teasing. “So, speaking of moving forward, there’s a little matter of that upcoming game against UCLA. It’s at their arena, in California. You should totally catch a flight to Azzi after our game. You’re technically already there, right? Just fly to see Azzi. Take a break before the next game. We’re all thinking it.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard. “You really think I should?”

Ice nodded seriously. “Yeah, why not? It’s the perfect time. Geno and CD probably won’t have a problem with it.”

Paige hesitated for a moment. “I mean, it would make sense… we’re already in California. I just need to get their approval.”

KK shot her a wink. “Exactly. And come on, you’ve guys got to fix things. Take this chance.”

—------------

Later that day, Paige walked into Geno’s office, where both he and CD were reviewing some game footage. They looked up when she entered.

“Paige, what’s up?” Geno asked, his expression neutral but welcoming.

Paige took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Hey, so, I was thinking… after our game against UCLA in California, I could catch a flight to Stanford instead of coming back with the team. There’s a bit of a break before our next game, so I thought I could use the time to sort out some stuff. Relationship stuff”

CD raised an eyebrow. “Relationship stuff, huh? Sounds serious.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah, it’s… with Azzi.”

The room went silent for a moment. Geno and CD exchanged a look, both clearly surprised. Geno leaned back in his chair. “Azzi? The Azzi Fudd? I didn’t realize that was happening.”

Paige bit her lip, feeling slightly awkward now. “Yeah, it’s been complicated. But we’re trying to work things out, and I think this is a good time to talk.”

CD gave her a thoughtful nod. “Well, if it’s important, we’re not going to stop you. But we do need to make sure the team stays focused. I trust you can handle it. Just don’t forget the bigger picture.”

Paige nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Then Geno added, “Oh and just so you know, we’ve been hearing some things about Azzi and Caroline. Apparently, they’re both entering the transfer portal.”

Paige froze, eyes widening in shock. “What? They’re… what? They didn’t tell me.”

CD sighed. “It’s a bit of a mess. Apparently, there’s some internal conflict at Stanford, and both of them are looking at other options.”

Paige felt a wave of disbelief hit her. “But… they didn’t even mention it to me.”

Geno looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You might want to talk to them about it. It’s something a lot of teams are looking into, including us. If you’re going out there, maybe you can try to convince them to come to UConn. I’m sure they’d fit in well here. And, we would really love to have them here.”

Paige’s mind was racing. Azzi and Caroline leaving Stanford was something she hadn’t expected at all. She hadn’t known the extent of the situation between them, and now it seemed like everything was about to change.

“Thanks for the heads up,” she muttered, still processing. “I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, Paige left the office, her thoughts swirling. She had a lot more to think about than just her relationship with Azzi. Now, the future of her team—and possibly Azzi and Caroline’s futures—were hanging in the balance. She knew she needed to handle this carefully.

—------------

Later that night, Paige sat on her bed, staring at her phone for a while before typing out the message to Azzi. She wasn’t sure how Azzi would react to the news about the transfer portal, but she had to tell her. She took a deep breath and began typing:

Paige: Hey, I just found out about the transfer portal with you and Caroline… You didn’t mention it to me. What’s going on?

She hit send, her heart beating a little faster as she waited for Azzi’s response. Paige wasn’t sure what to expect. She was already dealing with a lot of uncertainty with their relationship, and now there was this unexpected development with the portal. The last thing she wanted was to make things more complicated.

After a few moments, Azzi’s reply came through.

Azzi: Yeah, I didn’t want to tell you yet… We’ve been trying to figure everything out. It’s not easy, but I guess it’s time to move on. The situation here just… isn’t working anymore.

Paige’s chest tightened as she read the message. She understood the decision, even if it hurt to see Azzi’s words so final. She thought about the implications—Azzi leaving Stanford, everything changing. But she wasn’t about to give up on them just yet.

Paige: Hey, I get it. I really do. Look, after the UCLA game, I’m gonna head over to Stanford to see you. I need to talk to you in person. I know it’s been rough, but I want to make things right.

Azzi’s reply came quickly, and Paige felt a bit of relief when she read it.

Azzi: Sounds good. I’ll be here. I’m glad you’re coming.

Paige smiled to herself as she read the message. She knew there was a long road ahead, but this was a step in the right direction. She had to fix things with Azzi, no matter what it took.

She put her phone down for a moment, taking a deep breath. She still had the game against UCLA to focus on, but for the first time in a while, things felt like they were moving forward.

—------------

A few days later, the UConn team touched down in LA, the warm California sun blindingly bright against the backdrop of the towering skyscrapers. The city was alive with energy, a stark contrast to the chilly weather they had left behind. The team moved through the airport, their chatter filling the air, but Paige’s mind was elsewhere. She followed the others, but her focus was on one thing: the game tomorrow. She had one more challenge to face before she could finally board a flight to Stanford.

Ice and KK walked alongside her as they made their way to the team buses, the three of them talking casually, but there was an underlying tension in the air. Ice, ever the curious one, raised an eyebrow as Paige remained quieter than usual.

“So, we know you’re heading to Stanford after the game, huh?” Ice asked, her voice teasing but with a knowing look in her eyes. “You sure about this?”

Paige’s lips pressed together into a thin line. She had told them her plan earlier, but there was a difference between talking about it and actually going through with it. She nodded, pushing aside the anxious feeling in her chest. “Yeah, I need to figure things out with Azzi.”

KK chimed in with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more excited to get there than play tomorrow.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the flicker of nerves in her gaze betrayed her. “I’m focused on the game,” she said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “We’ll see how things go.”

They reached the hotel, and the team began filing inside, luggage in tow. Paige’s teammates found their rooms, and she followed the group, but her mind kept wandering back to Stanford. She didn’t know exactly how Azzi would react when they see each other at the airport, or what their conversation would be like, but she knew it had to happen. No more running.

“Don’t worry, P,” Ice said softly, falling in step beside her as they walked down the hallway. “Whatever happens, we’re all here for you. Just remember to focus tomorrow. Then you can do whatever you want after.”

Paige gave a small smile, grateful for the support. Her friends had been there for her through everything, especially the mess with Lexi and all the emotional turmoil that had come with it. Ice always had a way of making her feel like everything would be okay, even when it didn’t feel that way.

“I know,” Paige replied quietly. “But tomorrow’s game… it’s important. I just want to get through it.”

KK nudged her. “You��ll do fine, P. You always do. But then, you have to come back and deal with whatever happens next.” She gave Paige a knowing look. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

Paige let out a small laugh. “You’re gonna be the first to know.”

They arrived at the room, and Ice and KK dropped their bags, taking their usual spots on the beds. Paige’s mind, though, was already a million miles away, picturing the flight she’d be catching after the game tomorrow—her chance to set things right with Azzi.

—------------

The next day, the game against UCLA was nothing short of intense. The atmosphere in the arena was electric, with fans packed into the stands, the tension palpable in the air. UConn and UCLA were evenly matched, trading points in a high-paced battle that seemed to keep everyone on the edge of their seats. Every possession felt crucial, and both teams played with relentless energy, their defenses pushing back against any attempt at a clean shot.

Paige moved quickly on the court, the familiar rhythm of the game grounding her, even though her mind kept straying. She felt the pressure of the upcoming trip—Stanford was calling, and there was no turning back now. But despite the whirlwind of thoughts, the game was all she knew in that moment. When the ball was in her hands, everything else faded away.

She sank shot after shot, her focus sharp despite the chaos surrounding her. Her teammates relied on her, and she didn’t let them down. Every assist was well-timed, and every play was made with precision. When the game reached its final moments, with the score neck-and-neck, Paige found herself leading a fast break, pushing the ball down the court with urgency. The defense closed in, but Paige faked left and made a slick pass to her teammate, who finished with a quick layup.

The buzzer sounded seconds later, signaling UConn’s hard-fought victory. The crowd erupted, and the team erupted with them. Paige, though, was already thinking ahead. The relief of winning the game was temporary, fleeting, like a breath she could finally release. But her mind quickly shifted back to the flight waiting for her after the final whistle. The night was still young, and she had one more step to take, one more conversation to have.

As the team celebrated their victory in the locker room, Paige kept her composure, letting the excitement of the win wash over her but not getting swept away. She exchanged high-fives with her teammates and smiled at their praise, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. The countdown was on, and soon, she would be on her way. She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The next chapter was about to unfold, and she didn’t know how it would go, but one thing was clear: she was ready.

—------------

After the game, the team gathered their things and headed back to the hotel. The atmosphere was a mix of excitement and relief. Paige, however, had her focus on the next chapter—getting to Stanford and facing whatever awaited her with Azzi.

At the hotel, Paige took her time packing. She didn’t want to rush the moment. Once she was done, she left the room and met up with Ice and KK in the lobby.

“I’ll see you guys soon,” Paige said, hugging both of them. “Thanks for everything, seriously.”

“You got this, P,” Ice said with a smile. “We’re proud of you.”

“Take care of yourself, alright?” KK added, giving Paige a tight squeeze. “Let us know how everything goes with Azzi.”

Paige nodded, grateful for their support. She didn’t know what the next few days would hold, but she knew that having her friends backing her up was all she needed.

She made her way over to Geno and CD, who were talking with a couple of the other coaches near the entrance. As she approached, Geno turned to her, giving her a quick nod.

“Headed to the airport now, huh?” he asked, his expression a little serious but supportive.

Paige smiled nervously. “Yeah.”

CD raised an eyebrow. “Let us know if you need anything. And… if you convince her and Caroline to come to UConn, we’ll be waiting.”

Paige chuckled, but the thought lingered in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen with Azzi, but she knew that was something they’d have to work through together.

“Thanks, guys,” Paige said, giving them both a hug. “I’ll keep you posted.”

As she walked out of the hotel, the cool evening air hit her face, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the building she was leaving behind. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nerves. She was about to head to the airport—about to catch her flight to Stanford to see Azzi. The weight of what was ahead settled on her chest, but she pushed it down. She had to stay focused.

She grabbed her bag, dialing for an Uber as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The car arrived quickly, and she slid into the backseat, trying to keep her thoughts in check as the city of LA passed by outside the window.

—------------

Paige sat back in her seat, buckling her seatbelt as the plane began to taxi down the runway. She pulled out her phone, fingers hesitating for a moment before she sent a quick message to Azzi.

Paige: “Just boarded my flight. Should be there in 2 hours.”

She stared at the screen, her heart thudding a little faster than usual. She hadn’t been this nervous in a while, but this was different. This was about fixing something she had broken, something she wasn’t sure could be fixed.

It didn’t take long for Azzi’s reply to come through.

Azzi: “I’ll be waiting at the airport for you. See you soon 💗”

Paige smiled softly at the message, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. She was actually going to see Azzi. It felt surreal, knowing how much had happened between them. There was a lot to say, but right now, just knowing that Azzi would be there, waiting for her, gave Paige a little hope.

As the plane lifted into the sky, Paige leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt a mix of emotions—nervousness, relief, anticipation. She didn’t know what the next few hours would bring, but she was going to take it one step at a time. The first step was seeing Azzi. And that was all that mattered right now.

—------------

The flight was short, barely an hour and a half, but it felt longer to Paige. Her mind raced as she watched the passing clouds outside the window, thinking about everything that had led her here. The thought of Azzi waiting at the airport kept bringing a small smile to her face. She felt a sense of warmth and nervousness mix in her chest, like she was preparing for something significant, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what that would be.

When the plane finally began its descent, Paige’s heart quickened. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she landed—whether Azzi would be waiting with open arms, or if the tension between them would be too much to overcome—but she was about to find out.

The plane touched down with a soft jolt, and Paige quickly grabbed her things, eager to get off. She checked her phone one more time, seeing Azzi’s message again. Paige’s hands were shaking just slightly, the reality of the situation settling in. She was finally here, finally going to see Azzi.

As soon as she stepped off the plane, Paige scanned the crowded terminal, her eyes searching for the one person she knew would be waiting for her. It didn’t take long. Through the crowd, she saw Azzi standing by the baggage claim, looking around. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she had a small, hesitant smile on her face.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She walked toward Azzi, their eyes meeting in a quiet, unspoken understanding.

When they were close enough, Paige didn’t hesitate. She opened her arms, a simple gesture, but one that felt huge in the moment. Azzi’s face softened, and without a second thought, she stepped into Paige’s embrace. The moment their bodies met, a wave of relief seemed to wash over both of them.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Paige tightly, and she pressed her face into the crook of Paige’s neck, inhaling deeply. All the anger, confusion, and hurt of the past few days seemed to fade away in that moment. There was nothing but the warmth of Paige’s arms and the quiet comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

Azzi closed her eyes, feeling her heart settle for the first time in what felt like forever. All she had needed was this—the simple reassurance that Paige still cared. That maybe they could still figure things out, even after everything that had happened.

For Paige, it felt like the world had paused, the noise of the airport fading into the background. Holding Azzi like this, feeling her warmth, it was everything she’d wanted but never knew how to ask for. She wanted to say so much, but for now, just this felt like enough.

They stood there for a moment, the embrace lingering longer than either of them expected. Azzi finally pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Paige’s shoulders as she looked up at her, her face soft but guarded.

“I’m sorry,” Paige whispered, her voice barely above a breath, though she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Azzi simply nodded, not saying a word, but Paige could see the quiet understanding in her eyes.

After a few moments, Azzi cracked a small smile. “Let’s just… take it one step at a time, okay?”

Paige nodded, her chest tight but hopeful. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

And that was all either of them needed right now.

—------------

The car ride back to Azzi’s dorm was filled with a strange tension that neither of them knew how to break. Paige sat in the passenger seat, nervously picking at her fingers, stealing occasional glances at Azzi, who kept her eyes focused on the road ahead. The weight of everything that had happened was still hanging in the air, making it hard for either of them to find a natural way to ease into conversation.

As they passed through the busy streets, Paige decided to push through the awkward silence. “So… the transfer portal situation,” she started, her voice slightly hesitating. She was nervous, but she knew they needed to address it. She’d been holding onto the question ever since hearing about it, unsure of how to bring it up without making things feel too heavy.

Azzi glanced at her quickly, her face unreadable, before focusing back on the road. She didn’t say anything, but Paige could feel the unspoken weight of it.

Paige swallowed, gathering her courage. “I know… I know it’s been tough. But, uh, which schools have been reaching out to you guys? I know UConn’s one of them.”

Azzi was quiet for a moment, then gave a small, almost resigned sigh. “Yeah, UConn’s reached out. A lot of schools have. Tennessee, UCLA, ND… and some other big ones, too. But, honestly, we’re still exploring all the options. Caroline and I, we have an idea of where we might want to go, but… it’s still up in the air.”

Paige nodded, trying to hide the rush of emotions that came over her. She wasn’t surprised that UConn was one of the schools reaching out—Geno had always made it clear he wanted the best players, and Azzi and Caroline were among the best.

A part of her couldn’t help but feel hopeful, though she pushed that feeling down, not wanting to get her hopes up too much.

“I talked to Geno about it,” Paige said, her voice a little softer. “He really wants you and Caroline there. He believes you two could make UConn unstoppable.”

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but Paige could see the slight tension in her shoulders as she kept her eyes on the road. She didn’t know what Azzi was thinking, but it was clear that the transfer portal situation was just as complicated for her as it was for Paige.

“We’ve talked about it,” Azzi finally said, her voice quiet. “Caroline and I… we’ve got some ideas. But, yeah, we’re still figuring things out.”

The silence settled between them again, though it felt less heavy now. Paige’s mind was racing with thoughts of what this all meant. She wasn’t sure if they’d be able to work things out between them, but she was starting to think that maybe… just maybe, they could both find a way to make it work—both with their teams and with each other.

Azzi took a sharp turn, heading into the parking lot near her dorm. Paige shifted in her seat, the nerves creeping back up again. The anticipation of what was to come next—the conversation, the possible change in direction for their futures—was almost too much to bear.

Azzi parked the car and turned off the engine. She looked over at Paige, her expression soft, yet thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out.I just need some time.”

Paige nodded, her heart heavy but hopeful. “Yeah… I know.”

They sat there for a moment, neither of them speaking, just letting the quiet settle between them as the night deepened around them.

—------------

As Paige and Azzi walked through the parking lot, the cool night air brushed against them, and Paige carried her own bag despite Azzi’s insistence that she help. Azzi had offered multiple times to take the bag for her, but Paige had declined each time with a small smile, not wanting to seem like a burden. There was something comforting about the familiar weight of her own belongings in her hand, and it felt right for her to carry it herself.

They reached the dorm building, and the familiar hum of campus life surrounded them as they entered the building and made their way up to Azzi’s floor. The soft sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway, and as they reached Azzi’s door, Paige was already mentally preparing for whatever the next few days would bring. She was hoping they could talk, finally process everything that had happened, and see where things stood between them.

Azzi opened the door to reveal Caroline lounging on the couch, her attention on her phone. She looked up when the door clicked open and, for a moment, froze. When her eyes landed on Paige, she blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing.

“Paige?” Caroline’s voice was laced with a hint of confusion, but there was something more there—a mix of curiosity and cautious hope. She quickly pushed herself up from the couch, standing to face them both.

Paige gave her a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Azzi shot Caroline a knowing look as she stepped inside. “We’re working things out,” Azzi said, and even though her voice was calm, there was an undeniable weight to it, a promise of something better to come.

Caroline nodded, relief washing over her face, though she didn’t say anything right away. She just gave Paige a small, tentative smile before sitting back down on the couch, her phone forgotten in her lap. “I’m glad you two are figuring things out,” she said with a sincerity that softened the tension in the room.

Paige nodded, not sure what else to say, her own nerves still raw from the past few weeks. She followed Azzi to her room, feeling the slight unease in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here, in Azzi’s space, but everything still felt so new and fragile. She wasn’t sure if they were fully back to where they used to be, or if they were even capable of getting there.

Azzi’s room was cozy and familiar, just like Paige remembered. The bed was slightly unmade, clothes scattered on the floor in the usual places, and the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated the room with a warm, intimate light. Azzi sat down on her bed, laying back and propping herself up with a pillow, her eyes following Paige as she started to sort through her things.

Paige set her bag down beside the dresser and began putting Azzi’s clothes away in the drawers, the mundane task helping her focus and calm her nerves. She had missed this—this small part of her life, the simple act of being in Azzi’s space and settling in like everything was normal. But it wasn’t normal, not yet, and the tension between them remained, though neither of them was sure how to break it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Azzi said softly from her spot on the bed, her voice gentle but with an underlying tone of concern. “I could’ve helped you. You don’t need to do everything on your own.”

Paige paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder at Azzi, her expression softening. “It’s fine,” she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I need to do something. Keeps my mind busy.”

Azzi nodded, watching her for a moment before sinking back into the pillows. She hadn’t fully processed everything either, but for now, this—just having Paige there—felt like the right step. They didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no immediate urgency to fix everything. It could wait.

As Paige finished settling in, she turned to see Azzi looking at her with a mixture of exhaustion and something softer, like she was grateful for Paige’s presence, but also unsure of where they stood.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands before turning to face Azzi. She took a deep breath, the silence lingering between them.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you, Azzi. Not again.”

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she reached out, brushing her hand lightly against Paige’s. “You won’t. We’re figuring this out. Together.”

—------------

Paige took her time tidying up Azzi’s room, folding the scattered clothes and stacking them neatly in a pile by the dresser. It was a simple task, but it grounded her, kept her hands busy while her mind raced. Azzi stayed on the bed, watching in silence, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her hoodie. The air between them was heavy—not tense, exactly, but weighted with everything they hadn’t said yet.

When Paige finally finished, she turned back toward the bed, wiping her hands on her sweatpants. Azzi was still looking at her, eyes flickering with hesitation and something else—regret. Paige could see it before she even spoke.

Azzi sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. “Paige,” she started, voice quiet, unsure. She glanced down, like she was trying to piece her words together before finally meeting Paige’s gaze again. “I need to say this. I—I was wrong.”

Paige’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t say anything, letting Azzi continue.

“When I first saw the picture… when I got those messages,” Azzi swallowed hard, shaking her head as if frustrated with herself. “I didn’t even stop to think. I should have. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve trusted you instead of letting my emotions get the best of me.” Her voice grew softer, guilt weighing down her words. “And when I saw the proof—the video of how she kissed you while you were unconscious, how she drugged you—I felt… sick. Sick that I ever doubted you.”

Paige exhaled, her expression unreadable.

Azzi clenched her hands together. “I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in how it looked, how it felt, that I didn’t even give you the chance to explain. I just—” She hesitated, eyes dropping again. “I just reacted. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

Paige stayed silent for a moment, processing Azzi’s words. She could see the sincerity in her eyes, the way her voice wavered just enough to reveal the emotions she was holding back. Azzi wasn’t just apologizing—she was hurting over how she had handled it.

Paige finally sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi… it’s okay.”

Azzi’s head snapped up, her brows drawing together. “No, it’s not.”

Paige shook her head. “None of this should’ve happened in the first place. Lexi… she’s messed up. And yeah, it hurt when you didn’t believe me, but I get why it was hard to process.” Her voice softened. “I would’ve been hurt too if the situation was reversed.”

Azzi looked like she wanted to argue, but Paige gave her a small, reassuring smile. “The important thing is that we’re here now. We’re working through it.” She nudged Azzi’s knee lightly. “We’re not gonna let her win, okay?”

Azzi exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

A comfortable silence settled over them, the weight of the conversation lifting, even if it wasn’t completely gone. Paige glanced at Azzi’s bed, then back at her. “Can we… can we cuddle?”

Azzi blinked in surprise before nodding almost immediately, shifting back to make space. “Yeah. Of course.”

Paige climbed onto the bed, pulling the blankets over them as she settled in. Azzi didn’t hesitate before burying her face into the crook of Paige’s neck, her arms wrapping around her like she had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Paige sucked in a quiet breath at the closeness, but after a moment, she relaxed, resting her chin on top of Azzi’s head. The warmth of Azzi’s body against hers, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it was calming. Familiar.

Paige hesitated, but then, gently, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s head. Azzi let out a quiet breath, holding Paige just a little tighter. Neither of them spoke, both content in the silence, in the feeling of being wrapped up in each other.

And slowly, with their bodies tangled together, they drifted off to sleep.

—------------

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Paige and Azzi were still tangled together beneath the blankets, their breathing slow and steady. Azzi’s head remained tucked beneath Paige’s chin, her arms loosely wrapped around Paige’s waist. Paige had one arm draped over Azzi’s back, holding her close even in sleep. It was the kind of peaceful scene that made it easy to forget all the complications surrounding them.

Caroline didn’t forget, though—not when she walked into the room with a plate of food in hand, fully expecting to wake Azzi up for breakfast, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight before her.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she took in the sight of Paige and Azzi curled up together, completely unaware of the world around them. It was almost unfair how cute they looked. Paige, who had always tried to play things cool, was practically cradling Azzi in her sleep. And Azzi? She looked like she had no intentions of ever letting go.

Caroline bit her lip to hold back a laugh before quietly pulling out her phone. She made sure the angle was just right before snapping a picture. She knew Azzi would kill her if she found out, but this was too good not to capture.

With the evidence secured, she finally cleared her throat. “Alright, lovebirds, time to wake up. I made breakfast, and I am not about to let it get cold while you two continue your little cuddle session.”

Azzi groaned first, nuzzling closer into Paige as if she could ignore Caroline’s voice and go back to sleep. Paige, still half-asleep, tightened her hold slightly before blinking her eyes open.

Caroline smirked. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Paige groaned, her voice thick with sleep. “Why are you in here?”

“Because I made breakfast,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. “And also because you two looked way too cozy, and I just had to document the moment.”

Paige’s brain was still catching up when Azzi finally stirred, blinking up at her before realization hit. Her eyes widened slightly, and she slowly pulled back, her cheeks flushing. Paige reluctantly let go, rubbing a hand over her face as she tried to shake off her sleepiness.

Azzi shot Caroline a suspicious look. “What do you mean document?”

Caroline grinned, holding up her phone. “You’ll see later. Now get up before I start eating without you.”

Azzi groaned, throwing a pillow in Caroline’s direction as she walked off laughing. Paige just sighed, already regretting whatever picture Caroline had taken.

But despite that, as she glanced over at Azzi—who was still red-faced but smiling softly—she couldn’t bring herself to care too much.

Azzi let out a tired sigh, running a hand through her messy hair before glancing at Paige, who was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The warmth from their cuddle lingered between them, and for a brief second, Azzi wanted to curl right back into Paige’s arms and pretend the morning didn’t exist.

But Caroline had made breakfast, and given how rare that was, Azzi figured she should take advantage of it before she regretted it.

Paige stretched, her hoodie riding up slightly before she tugged it back down. “I feel like I should be worried about that picture,” she mumbled, still groggy.

Azzi scoffed, sliding out of bed. “You should be. Caroline has no chill.”

Paige chuckled softly, finally sitting up. “Yeah, I figured that out a long time ago.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled as she grabbed a hair tie from her nightstand and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. She hesitated for a second before turning to Paige. “You coming?”

Paige met her gaze and nodded, swinging her legs over the bed. “Yeah. Can’t let Caroline eat all the food she claims she made.”

Azzi smirked. “You’re assuming she didn’t just order it and put it on plates.”

Paige gave her a knowing look. “That’s exactly what I’m assuming.”

They both laughed as they made their way out of the room and into the small common area where Caroline had set up breakfast. A stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and some fruit sat on the table, and sure enough, a few empty takeout containers were shoved into the trash.

Azzi gave Caroline a look. “Wow. You really went all out with this homemade meal.”

Caroline grinned, unbothered. “I slaved over this. You’re welcome.”

Paige snorted, grabbing a plate. “Uh-huh. Thanks for all your hard work.”

Caroline shrugged. “Hey, the effort to plate it counts for something.” She smirked at Paige as she took a bite of her food. “So… how was your sleepover?”

Azzi shot her a warning look. “Caroline.”

“What?” Caroline grinned innocently before winking at Paige. “Just asking. You both looked real comfortable this morning.”

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. “We slept. That’s what happened.”

Caroline hummed. “Sure, sure.” She glanced at Azzi before taking a bite of her food. “Well, if y’all wanna keep playing house, don’t let me stop you.”

Azzi sighed, ignoring her as she grabbed some food for herself. Paige just shook her head, but underneath the teasing, she could see the genuine relief on Caroline’s face. As annoying as she was, she had been rooting for them the whole time.

And for the first time in a long time, Paige felt like things were finally falling back into place.

They settled at the table, the clinking of forks against plates filling the comfortable silence between them. The food, despite being very obviously from a takeout container, wasn’t bad, and Paige had to admit she appreciated the effort—at least Caroline had plated it.

Azzi sat across from her, quietly eating while occasionally sneaking glances at Paige, like she was still processing the fact that she was here. Paige caught her once, smirking slightly as she raised a brow. Azzi just shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she focused back on her food.

Caroline, of course, was the first to break the silence. “So, Paige, how long are you sticking around?”

Paige wiped her mouth with a napkin before answering. “Geno wants me back in time for practice, so… another two days.”

Azzi’s chewing slowed, and Caroline tilted her head. “That’s kinda short.”

“Yeah, I know,” Paige admitted, glancing at Azzi before continuing. “But honestly? I’m just glad he and CD let me come here instead of heading straight back to Connecticut with the team.”

Azzi looked up at that, her expression softening. Paige could see the unspoken I’m glad too in her eyes, but Azzi didn’t say it out loud.

Caroline nodded, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Damn. Geno really let you off the leash for a bit, huh?”

Paige chuckled. “More like he granted me permission. Probably helped that CD was kinda on my side about it.”

Azzi smirked. “So basically, CD allowed you.”

Paige grinned. “Pretty much.”

Caroline laughed. “Sounds about right.”

Azzi glanced at Paige again, a question lingering behind her eyes, but she didn’t voice it. Paige could tell she was thinking about the fact that they only had two days together before she had to leave. And honestly? Paige was thinking about it too.

Two days wasn’t much. But it was something.

And right now, she’d take whatever time she could get.

—------------

The conversation drifted into lighter topics as they ate, the tension from the past few days finally beginning to ease. Paige still felt the weight of everything that had happened, but at least now, sitting across from Azzi, talking, laughing—even if it was at Caroline’s expense—it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Caroline leaned back in her chair, finishing the last of her food. “So, what’s the plan for today? Are you two gonna, like… go on a cute little date or just sit here and stare at each other?”

Azzi shot her a look. “You are so annoying.”

Caroline smirked. “It’s a talent.”

Paige chuckled, setting her fork down. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning a romantic getaway, considering, you know… everything.”

Azzi shifted in her seat, twirling her fork between her fingers. “We don’t have to do anything big,” she said, glancing at Paige. “We could just… hang out. Maybe go shoot around for a bit, get some fresh air.”

Paige met her gaze, a small smile forming. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Caroline groaned. “God, you two are so predictable. Basketball is literally your love language.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “And?”

Caroline held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. You could, I don’t know, go to an actual place. Like a restaurant, or the mall, or—”

“We could,” Paige cut in, smirking. “But we won’t.”

Caroline sighed dramatically. “You’re both hopeless.”

Paige just grinned, standing and grabbing her plate. “Hopeless but happy.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through, but Paige caught it anyway. It made something warm settle in her chest.

—------------

After breakfast, the three of them decided to stay in for a bit, just letting the morning stretch out lazily. The air in the dorm felt peaceful—no rush, no pressure. Paige and Azzi spent the time lounging in the common room, chatting idly, with Caroline doing most of the talking while Paige and Azzi exchanged quiet glances when they could.

By the time afternoon rolled around, the sun had warmed the day, and the urge to get moving settled in. Caroline had already made herself scarce, and Azzi and Paige were left with the quiet buzz of anticipation for the afternoon.

“Ready to head to the courts?” Azzi asked, standing up from the couch and grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair.

Paige grinned, standing up too. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m itching for some competition.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want that? I’m in prime form today.”

Paige chuckled. “Please. I’m not worried.”

They both made their way down to the campus courts, the sound of bouncing balls and sneakers on concrete greeting them as they approached. The courts were mostly empty, the perfect setting for a little one-on-one.

Azzi grabbed a ball from the rack by the court and dribbled it lightly, glancing at Paige with a competitive gleam in her eye. “How about a game to 11?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Loser has to buy dinner?”

Azzi smirked. “That’s the deal. You down?”

“Always,” Paige said, already bouncing on her feet, ready to go.

The game started off slow, both of them sizing each other up, shots made and missed in equal measure. Their laughter filled the air, their competitive edge only making the atmosphere more electric. Paige made a few quick layups, her moves sharp, but Azzi wasn’t far behind, getting into a rhythm and hitting some impressive shots of her own.

Every time Paige thought she had the advantage, Azzi would come back with a play that made her stop and take notice. They were both in their element, pushing each other to the edge, testing each other’s limits.

The score crept closer to 11, each point feeling harder to secure. Paige was breathing a little heavier now, but she kept pushing through, giving it everything she had. Azzi, on the other hand, looked like she was just getting started, her eyes locked in with a focused intensity.

Finally, Azzi hit a clean three-pointer that brought her to 11, the ball swishing through the net with a satisfying sound.

“Yes!” Azzi shouted, raising her arms in victory.

Paige let out a dramatic sigh, putting her hands on her hips. “Guess that means I’m buying the food.”

Azzi grinned, walking over to her and offering a high-five. “You can’t win them all.”

Paige smirked and slapped her hand against Azzi’s. “Yeah, but I was still gonna pay for dinner.”

Azzi blinked in surprise. “What?”

Paige shrugged nonchalantly, turning to grab the ball. “I said I’d do it anyway. No way I’m letting you pay for it after you just won. That’s just how I am.”

Azzi’s face softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You really are something, you know that?”

Paige grinned. “It’s a gift. But I’ll still probably get you something extra, to make up for this defeat.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully. “You don’t have to do that. You already owe me dinner.”

“True,” Paige said with a wink. “But I’m still getting you dessert.”

They both continued to shoot around after their little competition.

After a while, they walked off the court together, the afternoon sun hanging low as they chatted and laughed, the game fading into the background as the idea of dinner—and the company they’d share—took center stage.

—------------

Back at Azzi’s dorm, they took turns showering, washing off the sweat from their game. Paige went first, letting the hot water soothe her muscles, the remnants of their competitive match still lingering in her body. By the time she stepped out, towel-drying her hair, Azzi was already grabbing her things, ready to take her turn.

“I’ll be quick,” Azzi said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Paige smirked. “You better be. I’m getting hungry.”

Azzi just laughed before shutting the door, and Paige took the time to check her phone, scrolling through a few texts and social media notifications while she waited.

Once Azzi was done, she stepped out with damp hair, dressed casually in a hoodie and shorts. Paige had already made herself comfortable on Azzi’s bed, looking up as Azzi ran a towel through her curls.

“So, what’s the plan?” Azzi asked, tossing the towel aside.

Paige grinned. “I was thinking takeaway and a drive-in movie.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A drive-in?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “I looked it up while you were in the shower—there’s one not too far from here. Thought it’d be nice. Chill vibes.”

Azzi smiled, clearly liking the idea. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Alright then,” Paige said, sitting up. “Let’s pack the essentials.”

They grabbed a few blankets, some pillows, and anything else they might need before heading out to Azzi’s car. The night had settled in by the time they left, the air cool but not uncomfortably so. After picking up their food that Paige had ordered from a local takeout spot, they made their way to the drive-in, pulling into a good spot near the back.

Azzi backed the car up, opening the trunk so they could set up in the back. They arranged the blankets and pillows, making a cozy space before climbing in. Azzi settled between Paige’s legs, leaning back against her chest, and Paige instinctively wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. The warmth between them was immediate, and Azzi let out a content sigh as she got comfortable.

“This is nice,” Azzi murmured, tilting her head slightly so their cheeks brushed.

Paige hummed in agreement, tightening her hold slightly. “Yeah. Perfect way to end the night.”

As the movie started, the soft glow from the screen illuminated the cars around them, creating a peaceful, intimate atmosphere. The hum of distant conversations, the occasional honk, and the quiet murmur of the film set the perfect background noise.

Azzi pulled out her phone, unlocking it as she went to Instagram. Paige peeked over her shoulder, watching as Azzi opened the camera, recording a short video of the view around them—the giant screen ahead, the night sky above, and the cozy setup they had in the trunk. Then, with a quick double-tap on the screen, the camera flipped to them.

Azzi grinned, her head leaning into Paige’s as she smiled at the camera. Paige smirked slightly, her arms still wrapped around Azzi as they both sat close, their faces almost touching. The warmth of the moment was captured perfectly—the way they fit together, the ease between them, the quiet intimacy.

Azzi typed out a caption “Nights like this with my bestfriend💗” before glancing at Paige. “I’m posting this on my story.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, people are definitely gonna go crazy when they see that.”

Azzi smirked, hitting ‘post’ without hesitation. “Oh well, I said with my ‘bestfriend’.”

Paige squeezed her gently. “You want the internet to explode, don’t you?”

Azzi laughed. “Maybe a little.”

Paige just smiled, pressing her chin lightly against Azzi’s shoulder as they settled back into the moment, letting the night carry them away.

—------------

As the night settled in and the movie played in the background, Paige’s mind wandered. She didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to ruin the calmness of the moment, but something was nagging at her.

She leaned her head back against the trunk, staring up at the stars for a moment before glancing down at Azzi, who was still curled between her legs, the warmth of her body settling perfectly against Paige’s.

“Azzi,” Paige started softly, her fingers absentmindedly running through Azzi’s hair, “where do we stand?”

Azzi blinked up at her, sensing the shift in Paige’s tone. She tilted her head slightly, meeting Paige’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

Paige hesitated, then spoke quietly, “I mean… are we still dating? Are we going to try to make this work, or are we just kind of… here, you know?”

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she reached up, resting her hand over Paige’s. “We’re still dating, Paige. And we’re working on it. I mean… there’s a lot to work on, but I want to. I want to make this work.”

Paige’s heart fluttered at the simple but reassuring words. She smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Azzi’s head. “I want that too. I love you, Azzi.”

Azzi smiled up at her, their faces close. “I love you too, Paige.”

Just as the air between them settled with the warmth of their words, Paige’s phone suddenly buzzed, vibrating in her pocket. She glanced down, seeing the group chat with KK and Ice lighting up with notifications.

Her heart sank a little. “Oh no,” she muttered, quickly unlocking her phone.

KK: So, are we calling this the hard launch or what? 👀

Ice: Is this a ‘bestfriend’ or ‘more than bestfriend’ situation? 😜

KK: Wait, Azzi’s caption says ‘nights like this with my bestfriend 💗’… bestfriend? REALLY? 😏

Paige’s face flushed a little, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly the conversation had turned into full-blown teasing. She quickly typed a response.

Paige: You guys are ridiculous, I swear.

But the teasing didn’t stop there. The messages continued to pour in, and Paige’s phone buzzed again, this time with a flood of social media notifications. She saw her story was blowing up, people commenting, liking, and sharing it.

KK: Socials are GOING OFF 😂😂 people are saying they didn’t expect this… some people are like ‘aww cute friends’ and others are straight-up denying y’all are together.

Ice: People are wild. You gotta love the denial. Also, can we just talk about how cute you two are? 😍

Paige could only shake her head, chuckling as she scrolled through the flood of comments. She could see the mix of reactions—some people totally convinced they were dating, some pretending like they weren’t, and others totally oblivious to what was really going on.

Azzi watched Paige, her expression amused as she read through the messages on Paige’s phone. “Looks like you’re causing a stir.”

Paige laughed, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. “You did this. You made the caption.”

Azzi grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? The ‘bestfriend’ part is true cause I mean, you are my bestfriend Paige, and I’m allowed to tease a little. Besides, it’s fun to watch everyone lose their minds.”

Paige smirked, shaking her head. “Well, you’re not wrong. It is pretty funny. But the internet is definitely not ready for what they just saw.”

“Too bad,” Azzi said with a playful wink. “Let them freak out.”

“Yeah, because we’ve got the real thing figured out, don’t we?” Paige’s voice softened, her hand gently resting on Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile deepened, and she shifted a little, leaning back into Paige’s embrace. “Definitely. They can say what they want. We’re good.”

Paige nodded, closing her phone and setting it aside. “You’re right. Let them talk. We’ll just keep doing us.”

—------------

As the night stretched on, the movie on the screen became nothing more than background noise. Paige and Azzi sat wrapped up in each other, cocooned in their own little world inside the trunk of Azzi’s car. The distant hum of other cars, the occasional laughter from other drive-in guests, and the cool breeze of the night made everything feel strangely serene.

Azzi let out a soft sigh, tilting her head slightly to glance up at Paige. “I’m really happy you came here.” Her voice was quiet but full of meaning, as if the words carried more weight than she was even letting on.

Paige’s grip around her tightened slightly, her chin resting on Azzi’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, shifting just enough to look at Paige fully. “Yeah. I mean… after everything, I just—I didn’t know if we were going to get back to this, you know? But now that we have… I don’t know, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Paige took a deep breath, letting the words settle between them. She knew what Azzi meant. The weight of the past few weeks—the uncertainty, the hurt, the mess of it all—had been suffocating. But now, sitting here, with Azzi leaning against her, Paige finally felt grounded again.

“I feel the same way,” Paige admitted, running her fingers gently along Azzi’s arm. “I hated being away from you, Az. Not talking, not knowing if we’d get through this… it sucked.”

Azzi turned slightly in Paige’s hold, facing her more directly, their faces just inches apart. “But we did.” She reached up, cupping Paige’s face gently, her thumb brushing over her cheek. “And I’m so happy we did.”

Paige let her eyes flutter shut for a second, just savoring the warmth of Azzi’s touch. Then she opened them, looking directly into Azzi’s. “Me too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension shifting into something softer, deeper. The faint glow from the screen illuminated Azzi’s face, casting her features in a warm light. Paige felt her heart stutter at the sight—at how effortlessly beautiful Azzi looked, how much she had missed this, missed her.

Azzi’s gaze flickered to Paige’s lips for just a second before she leaned in, closing the distance between them. The kiss started slow, tentative at first, as if they were both still processing how much they had missed this. But then Paige’s hands moved—one sliding to the small of Azzi’s back, the other curling into her hoodie, pulling her in closer.

Azzi responded instantly, deepening the kiss, her fingers slipping into Paige’s hair as she tilted her head just enough to mold against her perfectly. There was no urgency, no rush—just the warmth of their lips moving together, the unspoken emotions between them pouring into the kiss.

Paige sighed softly against Azzi’s lips, letting herself sink into the feeling. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was reassurance, a promise, a welcome home.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Paige’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Her lips were slightly swollen, and Paige knew hers probably were too.

“I really, really love you,” Azzi murmured, her voice full of emotion.

Paige’s lips curled into a small smile, her hand tightening at Azzi’s waist. “I really, really love you too.”

Azzi let out a quiet, happy hum, her fingers still threading through Paige’s hair. “I don’t ever want to do that again—go through all of that. I know we’re still working on things, but… I don’t want to be without you, P.”

Paige kissed her again, just a soft peck this time. “You won’t be. We’re in this, Az. We’ll figure everything out.”

Azzi smiled against Paige’s lips before pulling back, snuggling into her embrace again. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

Paige chuckled, resting her chin on top of Azzi’s head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, they sat there, wrapped up in each other, feeling happier and more at peace than they had in a long time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #wbb

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reverette · 21 days ago

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tattoos | ob-87

warnings : talks of needles, ollie slander?, some cursing, grammatical errors (lmk if i missed anything! and english is not my first language)

ollie loved three things in his life, racing, his family, and his girlfriend (four if you count kimi actually, but he didn’t love kimi like that). and if you ask ollie what he likes most about his girlfriend, he will proudly say he loves his girlfriend’s tattoos that located around the back of her body.

ollie likes to trace the tattoos on his girlfriend’s body. he memorized them like the back of his hand. he will always ask some random questions while tracing his girlfriend’s tattoos. she’ll lay on her stomach doing something and ollie will lay with her while absentmindedly caressing her tattos.

“what do you think about me getting a tattoo? like a bear tattoo, i think it’ll be sick.” ollie asks while laying beside her on their shared bed. “you? getting a tattoo? we all know you scared of needles ollie.” she told him while typing in her laptop.

“hey! as far i am concerned i’m not scared of needles!” ollie defended himself, but his girlfriend didn’t take him seriously. “girl, you scream like your life depends on it while i was the one who’s getting tattooed.” she laugh at him without even moving her gaze from her laptop.

ollie gasped, feeling attacked start to attack his girlfriend with tickles.

“fuck ollie! stop please!”

“you attack me first, and i’m only getting my revenge here!” ollie didn’t stop, and tickling her more so she had to move her laptop onto the bedside table.

“okay you win, i’m sorry for calling you a coward.”

“apology accepted, now what do you think about pizza?”

“aren’t you supposed to be on a diet?”

“no if we don’t tell my trainer.”

“you’re a dork.”

“but i’m your dork.”

author’s note. you can request anything, feel free to request or talk to me!

reverette 2025.

#f1 x you #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #ob87 x reader #ob87 x you #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman x you #f1 x reader #rev. writes #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

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persevereforahappyending · 4 months ago

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No Man's Land |14|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Fighting, Shooting, Guns, Stabbing, Blood, Killing, Murder, Death

Word Count: 5.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Remember, travel in public,” you heard Bailey say through the phone as you and Sam walked over to the group. “The more people around you, the less likely he is to try something.”

Sam flicked a glance at you, but you didn’t say anything. Traveling in public was useful at times, using the crowd to hide yourself and make your way to a target, or spy on them without them knowing. It could also be dangerous, you had a lot less control when traveling in public, never knowing what or who you might run into. Depending on the place, there was also the high probability of getting separated or losing sight of your target.

Ghostface had already attacked in public many times. You saw the news report of the lady killed by her student; you knew this psycho wasn’t that guy, but he stabbed her in an alley with people actively walking past it. Not to mention when Ghostface first went after Sam, it was when she was at the gym, sure it was late, but it was clearly not planned out, they had no idea if she’d be alone or how many people would be there. Then most importantly, when he attacked at the bodega, sure he came at you guys from of the shadows, but he had no problem running into a public space and shooting anyone who got in his way.

You weren’t sure what the better option was, the subway was cramped and upped the risk of getting separated. The crowd could also work against you, it was Halloween weekend, people were always dressed in costumes. You had plenty of assignments that involved you subtly taking someone out, just as they were simply walking down the street, only for them to stumble forward after you were long gone and collapse. A cab was no better, you didn’t have the risk of being around a crowd but there was no way all of you would fit in a cab, separating was the biggest risk you could take. Then there was walking, the shrine wasn’t close, and anything could happen between Gale’s apartment and there, if Ghostface came out of the shadows again he could force you into a public space, hurting more innocent people, or force you into an unknown location.

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked.

You crossed your arms as you silently debated with yourself. You went over every option, now you just had to determine which was the best course. “The subway,” you settled on. “Just make sure to stick together,” you looked at each of them. “Don’t let go or lose sight of each other.” When everyone nodded, they all made their way out of the building and towards the subway.

You pushed past people, everyone bumping shoulders as you forced your way down into the subway tunnel. Just as you expected, it was overly crowded, as usual, and half the people were wearing costumes or a mask of some sort. Once all of you reached the platform the doors to the subway opened and everyone began shoving each other to get in while others shoved to get out.

You heard someone screaming to wait but you couldn’t make out their voice. You kept your eyes on Sam, she was leading the group and shoving her way onto the subway. Tara was between you and Sam, but she started to fall behind when more people started to shove themselves between them. You instinctively reached out and caught Tara by the shoulders when she bumped into you. You felt her tense, probably at feeling someone touching her but as soon as she looked at you, you felt her relax in your grasp. You gave her a reassuring smile and continued forward, making sure Tara stayed in front of you and didn’t get pushed back again.

Once you were safely on the subway with Tara and Sam you looked back to see Chad in the doorway reaching back for Mindy. It was no use, people kept shoving Chad into the car and Mindy further away until the doors finally closed, separating them. You furrowed your brow when you saw Ethan a couple paces behind Mindy, but while she was still reaching and slamming her hand against the closed doors, Ethan remained still, as if he wasn’t even trying to get on the subway.

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered. You looked up, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of a handful of people dressed like Ghostface.

You understood the appeal of Halloween; you had dressed up plenty of times. What you didn’t understand was the appeal of dressing up like a serial killer. Jason, Freddy Krueger, you got it, they were iconic villains from classic horror movies. You also knew Stab was a movie, but it was based on real events, a real person dressed up like Ghostface and terrorized his classmates. Dressing up like Ghostface seemed rather tasteless, it wasn’t like most people were going around dressing up like Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy.

“Stay together,” you mumbled. Tara was already pressed into her sister’s side and you put your hand high on the pole Sam was next to, making sure, in a way, you had a protective arm around both of them, with Chad between you and Sam but behind Tara.

“Mindy said she and Ethan will get the next one,” Chad said. He didn’t bother looking up from his phone as he continued to text his sister.

“Tell her to keep her guard up.” Chad looked up at you and nodded before typing away on his phone again. You learned Mindy was naturally a suspicious person, you still didn’t want her to take chances. You didn’t trust Ethan and you didn’t like that Mindy was completely alone with him, even if they were surrounded by people, there was a risk.

The four of you rode in silence, your eyes flicking from each person in a Ghostface costume and back. All three of them could be standing in the same car with you and you wouldn’t even know it until one made a move. They could easily make a move, they would just need to get close enough, then once the car jostled, like always, someone could take a knife to the gut, and Ghostface could slip back into the crowd, with everyone none the wiser.

You were silently counting the stops as they happened, with each one, more people cleared out, but just as many got on. You clocked ever person entering and exiting the car, even if Ghostface wasn’t currently in the same car, it didn’t mean he couldn’t hop on at one of the stops. The stop before yours was when one of the Ghostface’s started moving. You effortlessly slipped around behind the others to get on the other side of Sam and turned so you were facing her but bocking her from any potential attack, your hand still gripped the pole, just above her head.

“Hey,” you whispered.

You could see Sam fighting a smile, but her eyes quickly shifted back to the figure over your shoulder. You used the reflection in the glass to track the Ghostface’s movements and turned your head just as they exited the subway.

“That was smooth,” Sam said, giving you a small smile. You just shrugged but didn’t bother moving, opting to stay right where you were, close, and face to face with Sam until your stop.

The four of you were the first ones out the door as soon as they opened. You followed closely behind the others as you made your way down the dark street towards the shrine. You still hadn’t heard from Mindy as far as you knew, you didn’t know if she was safe and, on her way, or if something had happened. Ghostface had appeared out of the shadows more than once and you weren’t putting it past him to do it again, you were sure he knew you were planning on taking him out tonight.

“Hey,” Kirby greeted once you were outside the shrine. “I just got done clearing the place.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Any word from Mindy?” she looked at Chad.

Chad shook his head and held up his phone as if that would make a text from Mindy magically appear. “I’m going to try calling,” he mumbled.

“Do you want us to wait for you?”

“No,” Chad waved her off. “I’ll meet you inside.”

Sam seemed reluctant but she nodded and followed Kirby into the shrine, with Tara right behind them. You moved to follow as well when you turned and looked back at Chad, frowning at his phone as he still tried to get ahold of Mindy. “Hey,” you called out, making him look up at you. “Be careful.” Chad glanced around, seeming to realize he would be standing on the side of the street at night, right outside of the Ghostface shrine, alone. “Want me to wait?”

Your offer seemed to shake Chad out of his daze as he quickly shook his head. “Nah, they need you more,” he nodded towards where Sam and Tara disappeared to.

You nodded quickly jogged to catch up with the girls. You didn’t feel right about leaving Chad outside alone, he was a perfect target for Ghostface. Ghostface could quickly take out Chad before making his way into the shrine and none of you would ever know.

“This is the only way in or out,” Kirby said, as you walked up behind them, slipping through the door before she closed it. “He comes in, the doors lock, and he’s trapped.” You hummed, it wasn’t a bad plan. “Our own little kill box.”

“Weapons?” Sam asked.

“One gun.” You and Kirby shared a knowing look, silently agreeing to still keep your gun quite. “And I have it.” Sam didn’t seem happy about only one of you having a weapon, but Kirby was quick to remind her she was the only one with a badge. You didn’t point out that a badge didn’t matter if you weren’t actually arresting Ghostface, if anything holding a badge just made things more difficult.

The four of you walked around, glancing at the display cases again. Your eyes scanned over the area, before you had been looking for threats and taking everything in, now you were scoping out spots to hide and what could be used to take someone out. If you had your gear, you could knock out all the lights, propel down and take out each Ghostface before they even knew what hit them. You could take out the lights still, but it would be less fun since you couldn’t propel down from the ceiling, and there was no window to break through.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched as she left the main room and through one of the side doors. The place wasn’t overly big, but there were still too many places you could be snuck up on.

Sam pulled out her phone and brought it to her ear. You watched her with a furrowed brow. “What?” she shouted into the phone, clearly shocked by whatever the other person said. You looked back at the cage; Chad still hadn’t entered the building yet. When you looked back at Sam she was making her way across the stage, until she was standing in front of Billy Loomis’s display case. You didn’t question her as she opened the display case and took out the still bloody knife that was inside.

You approached Sam slowly, glancing down as she tucked the knife in her jeans, but you still opted not to say anything. “Everything okay?” you asked. Almost as soon as the words left your mouth the lights flickered, several of them going out as if someone flipped the switches for them.

Sam turned to you, her eyes searching your face for you weren’t sure what. You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when a scream interrupted you. Sam whipped around and your head snapped up towards the door to the side of the room. Neither of you hesitate to run through the door, not even caring what would be on the other side.

You burst through the door and saw Tara on the ground, her shoulder bleeding, and Ghostface standing over her. You didn’t even hesitate to grab Ghostface by his cloak and slam him into the side of the counter that was next to him. Sam took the opportunity to pull her sister to safety while you faced Ghostface.

Ghostface pushed off the counter and swung his knife at you. You effortlessly dodged it, trying to keep him distracted from Sam and Tara. You barely ducked in time as the door to your right burst open and a knife was swung at your head. You whipped around to see there was now two Ghostface.

“Go!” you shouted. You slowly backed away until you heard the door open, telling you Sam and Tara had listened. You made your way towards the door and pushed an old popcorn machine over to buy you some time as you ran down the hall after Sam and Tara.

You quickly caught up with the sisters and the three of you burst through the door that led back out into the main room. “How the hell did they get in?” you asked as the three of you stood in a circle.

“Because it’s Kirby,” Sam said. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Sam cautiously, never once did it seem like she suspected Kirby. “Bailey said she was fired from the FBI,” she gave you a curious look.

“Forgive me for not taking Bailey’s word for it,” you said.

Before anything else could be said Kirby stumbled into the room, a trail of blood dripping down the side of her head. “We know it’s you Kirby,” Sam whipped around, holding up the knife she stole from the display.

“Wha-No,” Kirby said confused, shaking her head. “Someone knocked me out.”

“Get away from them Kirby!” Bailey called out, coming down the center aisle. You narrowed your eyes at Bailey, unsure of when he arrived and how he got in without anyone hearing him. “We know it’s you!”

“He’s lying!”

“You two aren’t going to get away with this!” You furrowed your brow at the word two but then your eyes widened when you realized he was looking at you. You scoffed and shook your head, now you knew he was killer.

Sam gave you a confused look and took the slightest step away from you. “He’s lying,” you said calmly. “He’s clearly behind this.”

Bailey let out a humorless chuckle. “My own daughter died because of you!” You glared at Bailey, it was obvious he was behind all of this, but you didn’t think he’d actually kill his own daughter, something was off. “It’s been you two since the beginning,” he gestured between you and Kirby with his gun.”

“No,” Sam said, shaking her head. “It can’t be.” Her eyebrows were scrunched together as she tried to make sense of everything.

“Who was the one with the file on Y/N?” You glared at Bailey, that was a thin argument at best, Kirby was FBI, she would be able to get your file. “Who’s been sneaking off and conspiring in corners?” You rolled your eyes, you and Kirby never snuck off, you just whispered quietly away from the others. It seemed to be enough to make Sam look at you differently though.

“Come on,” you said calmly. “Sam, you know me,” you held up your hands to show you weren’t a threat.

“But I don’t,” she said more to herself than you.

“Sam.” She looked up at you, but you could see her trust wavering, you could practically see her questioning whether last year was happening all over again. “Remember what I told you.” You gave her a knowing look and mouthed the word ‘Three’ even if you and Kirby were behind everything, there was still a third person out there. Sam saw you in the gym when two other Ghostface attacked her, she knew this.

“I-”

“Look out!” Kirby shouted, interrupting all of you.

You all turned to see a Ghostface running up behind Bailey, with his knife raised. Bailey raised his hand and shot at Kirby before any of you had time to react. The Ghostface slowed to a stop right beside Bailey and the second one appeared on Bailey’s other side. “Good work you two,” Bailey said with a smile.

“You?” Sam said, slightly confused and disbelieving.

“Me,” Bailey shrugged, clearly proud of himself. “The only one to figure it out,” he waved a finger at you. “What gave it away?”

“I clocked all three of you the second I met you,” you said. “Isn’t that right, Ethan?” you raised an eyebrow.

The Ghostface on Bailey’s left took off his mask, revealing Ethan was in fact underneath. “Still don’t know how you figured me out,” he said confused.

“But then who…” Sam started, turning her attention to the Ghostface that was still masked. “Mindy?” her voice cracked as if she truly couldn’t believe her friend might behind all this.

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. Mindy got separated with Ethan, so it made sense for Sam’s mind to go to her first. “Right, Quinn?” You felt Sam and Tara both snap their heads towards you, but you kept your eyes on the Ghostface as they slowly took off the mask, revealing Quinn.

“Surprise,” Quinn said, holding up the mask. “You’re good,” she chuckled.

“You were all painfully obvious.”

“But you died!” Tara said. “We saw you die!”

“But I didn’t,” Quinn snarked. “It’s quite easy to fake your death when your dad’s a cop. Got me off the suspect list,” she shrugged. “And gave me the perfect opportunity to attack Gale, then Mindy on the subway.” You heard one of the sisters suck in a breath, you just had to hope Mindy would survive, though you now knew why she wasn’t answering Chad.

“But why?” Sam asked. “Why do any of this?”

“So, everyone would see you for the killer you truly are,” Bailey said.

“But I’m not,” Sam shook her head. “Those posts are lies! I didn’t kill anyone.”

“No!” Quinn cut in, her voice rising with emotion. “You killed our brother!”

“Your brother?” Tara asked confused.

“You’re Richie’s family,” Sam said, seeming to put it together before you or Tara. Your eyes widened, you didn’t know anything about Richie, but it was clear his entire family was psychotic.

“Yeah,” Bailey sighed, his eyes filled with the sadness at the mention of his dead son. “Now it’s time to die,” his voice became devoid of any emotion.

Bailey pointed his gun at Sam, but you moved quicker, whipping out the gun you had concealed. You didn’t point it at Bailey though, you pointed the gun higher and fired at the light above them. All three of them flinched at the sound of the gun but then were forced to cover their heads as the light shattered above them and glass rained down. You grabbed Sam and Tara and pulled them to safety before Bailey could start firing again.

“Go,” you said, nodding to one of the doors to the right of you. Sam looked at you then looked down at your gun, if you survived this you were sure you’d be hearing about this. You reached down and rested a hand on top of Sam’s, forcing her to look at you. “Go.”

Sam seemed reluctant to leave your side but eventually she relented. You watched as her and Tara got into position to run across the room. You gave Sam a nod and as soon as they took off you stood up and provided cover fire, forcing Bailey to duck out of the way and not shoot at them. Ethan swiped his knife at you, forcing you to dodge him and not shoot at Quinn as she made for the door on the other side. You figured Sam and Tara could hold off Quinn long enough for you to deal with Bailey and Ethan though.

Ethan raised his knife and lunged at you again. You effortlessly caught his hand holding the knife with your own, holding it high in the air. You used your other hand that held the gun and fired, shooting Ethan in the knee. Ethan howled out in pain but as he fell forward, you twisted the arm that was in your grasp, keeping him standing up right.

You drove his own knife into his back and as soon as he released his grip your hand took his place, giving the knife a sickening twist before ripping it upwards. Ethan screamed out in pain again.

“No!” Bailey yelled. You turned around, making Ethan turn with you to use him as a shield. “You sick bastard.” Bailey pointed his gun at you but didn’t fire, he couldn’t unless he was willing to kill his own son.

You couldn’t help but give a small smile, that probably looked rather sadistic to anyone else. You ripped out the knife and wrapped your arms around Ethan’s neck, effectively putting him in a headlock. You stared Bailey straight in the eye as you twisted your hands, the sound of Ethan’s neck snapping instantly filling the room. Bailey’s eyes didn’t even have time to widen in horror before you pushed Ethan’s body towards him, using it as cover as you dove behind the seats.

Bailey’s screams of horror filled the room, as he began shooting blindly into the seats. You stayed low, army crawling and rolling under the rows of seats as you made your escape. “Where are you?” Bailey screamed. You peaked your head over one of the chairs to see Bailey spinning around in circles, his gun raised as he searched for you. “Come out and face me!”

You watched Bailey, making sure to duck when he started to turn in your direction. When he wasn’t facing you, you took your chance and did a somersault across the floor, so you were now behind one of the displays. When you peaked around the display you got the perfect view of the balcony where you saw Sam and Tara facing off against Quinn.

Sam had one arm around Tara, trying to keep her as far away from Quinn as possible while her other arm was stretched out, the knife she took from the case raised. You could see Quinn smile and hop around as if she were having the time of her life. They were evenly matched, but Sam had Tara to worry about, putting her at an extreme disadvantage. Quinn knew that and was just toying with them, she just needed to keep them occupied long enough for Bailey to join her, then they’d easily take out the sisters.

You looked over as Bailey slowly made his way down the aisle, whipping his gun side to side as he continued to search for you. You slowly continued up the aisle, making sure to keep your eye on Bailey with each move you made. You made your way behind the back of the seats and did a somersault when you had to pass the main aisle. When you got to the end of the seating, you looked up, seeing Tara and Sam back against the wall. Sam stabbed the knife at Quinn, it was the only thing she could do to keep Quinn at bay.

You raised your gun over the seats and fired a few rounds next to Bailey, breaking several of the display cases in the process. Bailey covered his head as he ran for cover, he raised his gun and tried to blindly shoot once again. You took the opportunity to run to the staircase that led up to the level Sam and Tara were on.

When you got up to the top level you slipped through the door as quietly as possible. You stayed low as you made your way towards Sam and Tara, weaving in between the rows of seats as you did so. It didn’t seem either of the sisters had seen you yet, which you were fine with, you didn’t want them to react anyway. You were crouched down as you stepped down on the main pathway and slowly stood up. You tucked the gun away in the holster once again when you were directly behind Quinn.

You caught Sam’s eyes widen as she finally saw you, but you didn’t pay her much attention. Just like you did with Ethan you put Quinn in a headlock but instead of snapping her neck you drove the knife into it, then dragged it across her throat. You held the knife down at your side, not even paying attention to the small pool of blood it began forming on the ground.

You stepped back as Quinn turned around, a hand to her neck as blood gushed between her fingers. She opened her mouth but only spit up more blood. She reached out towards you as she stepped forward, but you stepped to the side. You stared emotionlessly as she stumbled forward, eventually going to far to the side and tumbling over the balcony.

Bailey let out another cry as soon as his daughter’s body crashed into the displays below. He seemed to forget about the three of you up top as he ran to Quinn’s side. You looked over the balcony, seeing Quinn’s lifeless eyes staring up at you. You let out a hum, even if she wasn’t dead yet she soon would be, you cut her neck deep enough that she would certainly bleed out in seconds.

“Let’s go,” you said and nodded towards the door.

Tara gave you a look but did as you asked. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you so you turned to her and just saw her staring at you, though you couldn’t place the emotion on her face. She just watched you slit a girl’s throat and watch her walk off a balcony, all as if it were a completely normal task for you. Even though Quinn was trying to kill her you probably most certainly scared Sam away, especially if she caught what you did to Ethan.

You led the way down the staircase back to the first floor. You peaked around the corner to see Bailey still sobbing over Quinn. “What about him?” Tara asked.

“We take him out,” Sam said before you could answer.

“Got a plan?” you asked.

Sam nodded. “First, we need to hit the lights.”

The three of you moved, sneaking around Bailey and making your way through another door. Once you were free of Bailey’s gaze the three of you began searching until you finally found the electrical room. “Stay here,” Sam ordered her sister. “I’ll send a text when it’s time to hit the lights.” Tara seemed reluctant but nodded anyway. “Ready?” she asked, looking at you, which you gave her a firm nod to.

You left the electrical room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible behind you. You and Sam gave each other an understanding nod before splitting up. Sam went around the side so she could get up on the stage without Bailey seeing her and you peaked out the little window of the door, making sure Bailey wasn’t looking as you slipped back out into the main room. You pressed yourself against the side of the stage as you waited for the signal to make your move.

“Come on!” Bailey yelled, shooting to his feet and spinning around in a circle with his gun raised. “Show me what kind of killer you really are!”

A moment later the lights shut off, throwing all of you into darkness. You smiled as you started moving, using the edge of the stage to guide you. Right on cue the giant screen clicked on, playing more of those home movie’s Bailey originally had going.

“What’s the plan Sam?” Bailey yelled as he predictably began making his way towards the stage.

You kept yourself low, blending into the shadows of the stage as Bailey got closer. Your hiding was made easier by Bailey not expecting you, he was too focused on the screen, waiting for someone to pop out somewhere up on stage. As soon as his foot got to the second one from the top you sliced your knife across his right heel.

Bailey let out a pained hiss as he tried to hold in his scream. He immediately stumbled forward, needing to lean all his weight on his left leg so he remained upright. You looked over the side of the stage to see Bailey, as predicted, hadn’t made it far, so you sliced your knife across his left heel, sending him crumbling to the floor.

You hopped up on the stage in one effortless move. Bailey raised his gun, trying to shoot behind himself but you grabbed his hand and arm, and brought your knee up, snapping the bone at his elbow. Bailey sobbed as he brought his arm to his chest, his gun falling to the floor as he was no longer able to hold it. You walked around to the front of him, kicking his gun across the stage so he didn’t get any ideas.

You crouched down so you were eye level with Bailey and tilted your head at his broken state. “I was right about you,” Bailey said through gritted teeth, tears streaming down his face from the pain he was in. “You’re just a trained killer.” You tilted your head to the other side then stood up without a word, backing away as you made way for Sam.

Sam came out from behind the screen, which was still playing the home movies. She was dressed in her father’s Ghostface costume as she walked towards Bailey. She crouched down, twisting the knife in her hands as she stared at Bailey through the mask.

“You can’t do this to me,” Bailey seethed. Sam stood up and took a small step back. “You can’t do this to me!” Sam ripped the mask off, letting it fall to her side. “You can’t do this,” Bailey shook his head. “I’m a decorated officer, you can’t-” he was cut off by Sam shoving a knife through his eye.

You gave a nod of approval as Bailey fell backwards, his body unmoving. Sam looked back at you, and it was like you could visibly see the relief of this all being over in her eyes. She looked past you and you turned, following her line of sight as Tara joined the two of you on stage.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, looking at her sister.

“No,” Tara admitted. “I’m going to get so much therapy after this.” Which made Sam chuckle.

You smiled but quickly winces when you moved to stand next to the sisters, all the adrenal quickly wearing off. “I’m going to an ambulance,” you said. “I’m pretty sure I tore all my stitches.” Both sisters laughed and you couldn’t help but join in as the three of you made your way off the stage.

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