#gotta unpack somethings and pack others

[dreams-in-daylight]

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[shockercoco]

A House to a Home

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings - some suggestion, lighthearted, fluff

Word count - 1926

a/n - request: “i don’t know if you’re taking request but what about the reader & austin moving into their first house together? reader is so hellbent on unpacking and getting everything out together but someone has other ideas” - this was such a good idea tysm! i hope you all enjoy :)

“Where do you plan on putting these?” Austin asks, looking over at you with a handful of your knick-knacks in his hands.

“I’m not sure yet, I’ll figure it out later,” you respond as you go to open up another box.

You still can’t process the fact that you’re actually moving in with him — that the two of you are owning a home together. The two of you have been dating for about a year and a half, and it was Austin’s idea that you move in with him.

He had just come back home after one of his meetings, and he had found you standing in his walk-in closet trying to figure out how to organize it. He didn’t even say ‘hi’ to you, he just blurted out the question, causing you to turn around and give him a speechless look. 

You were iffy at first because you’ve never lived with someone else after you moved out of your parent’s house – you’ve never even had a roommate so you wondered how it would be to go back to no longer living alone. You also wondered if the two of you were moving too fast. You were both adults and had been dating for long enough without too many problems, so it makes sense that Austin would want to take the next step.

But, that would mean moving into a large home in the hills of LA, where a lot of other celebrities and influencers lived. Did you belong in an area like that? Did you even deserve to live in such a nice part of LA just because you were dating a famous person, even though you yourself weren't rich or famous?

What if the two of you just happened to break up and you no longer had a place to stay?

Austin had seen the panic in your face and was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to give him an answer right that moment. That you could take all the time that you needed and he would be patiently waiting for your answer.

How could you say no to a face like that, though?

You don’t say no, which is why you didn’t.

“And this?” Austin raises an eyebrow at you, holding in a laugh as he holds up one of the stuffed animals you packed.

You playfully roll your eyes before grabbing a pillow from his bed and throwing it at his head. Austin dodges it, though, using the stuffed animal as a shield.

“Put him down,” you laugh.

“Him?” He gives you a look. “Your stuffed animal is a ‘him’?”

You continue to laugh as you walk towards him and snatch the plushie out of his hand. “Why are you jealous?” you joke.

“Of course not, there’s nothing to be jealous of,” Austin snickers and goes to bend down to retrieve something else out of a box, but stops when he sees you toss the stuffed animal onto his bed. “What are you doing?”

“He needs a place to stay too,” you giggle as you walk into the closest to begin putting some of your clothes away.

“And he’ll find one, just not here,” you hear his voice say from behind you, but you continue your task.

You manage to fill up the majority of your side of the closest before deciding to take a break and move onto something else. Walking out, you expect to see the bedroom with more decoration, but instead all you see is Austin on the floor, going through your box of books.

“Have you done anything in the past 45 minutes?” You ask, your hands on your hips.

“Of course I have. I’ve managed to read one page from almost all of these,” he answers, motioning to the box in front of him, “and I gotta say, some of these are a little spicy. No wonder you’re always reading.”

Your eyes widen as you quickly take the book in his hands away from him, put it inside the box with the rest, and move the box out into the hallway. You’re an adult and you're allowed to read whatever you want, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed because some of the books are really dirty.

Austin chuckles as he watches you. “You know, sweetheart, you don’t need any of these books as your source of pleasure, that’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s not what I use them for,” you mumble as you step back into the room.

“Oh, really?” Austin raises an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Y’know, while you’re so focused on me, you could use some of that energy to actually get some of these boxes empty,” you huff, standing above another full box of items.

“But I’m supposed to be focused on you, am I not?” Austin asks, tilting his head in full confusion.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” you tell him.

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to do?” Austin questions, standing up from his spot on the floor to look at the mess scattered around the bedroom floor.

“Stop taking breaks, and unpack,” you emphasize, shoving a box into Austin’s chest. He stumbles back, but takes the box from your hands.

You leave him in the bedroom, heading towards the kitchen for a change of scenery — and so you don’t strangle Austin.

The house is still pretty empty, except for some small things and decor. The rest of your furniture was supposed to arrive today, but everything got delayed. It had upset you at first, but hey, what can you do? Besides, this gives you a chance to fully admire the home before you completely make it yours. 

You head into the kitchen to begin putting the dishware and kitchenware up where they belong. Surprisingly, the majority of it is Austin’s, given the fact he likes to cook, and you don’t really know how.

When you come across a mug Austin had bought you while he’s out of the country on a press tour, you can’t help but take a second to admire it.

You and him both know that you don’t really use them and that you just like to collect them because they look pretty.

Honestly, how did you ever get so lucky with a man like him? What did he see in you all those months ago when he had seen you on set? You were part of the crew, and that day Austin had been invited on set to meet the director. Of course, you thought he was cute, but you didn’t think anything could actually happen between the two of you – which is why Austin made the first move instead of you.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear Austin’s footsteps enter the kitchen. You feel him come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You told me to stop taking breaks, but look at you. You’re in here daydreaming,” Austin says.

“I get to because I’m actually doing my job and putting things away,” you tell him.

“Hey, I did put some things away,” Austin feigns hurt. “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, placing the mug into the cabinet with the rest of the cups.

“Okay, let’s try again, but this time you actually tell me the truth?”

“Austin…” you sigh. You’re not really in the mood to pour out your feelings.

“No, don’t ‘Austin” me. Tell me,” he insists, giving you a light squeeze as encouragement. You breathe out another sigh as you contemplate whether you should tell the truth or not. When you take too long to decide, you feel Austin remove his head from your shoulder and turn you around to face him. He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue.

You just decide to say, “I’m just in my head is all.”

That’s all you needed to say for Austin to understand what you meant. “Sweetheart, I’ve already told you several times there’s no need to overthink.”

“I know, I know,” you nod.

“Do you?” Austin asks, dipping his head down so his eyes could meet yours.

“Yes, I do,” you reply, giving him a soft smile to try and reassure him.

“Okay…” Austin squints his eyes, not completely believing you, but he decides to move on. For now. Then he adds, “but just so you know I have no problem reassuring you.”

Your jaw drops as you hit him across the chest, causing him to smile. “And since we’re both doing such a good job with everything, I think we should take another break. I’m tired,” he continues.

You playfully scoff. “Of course you are. How about you go rest, while I continue,” you answer and go to move out of his grasp, but Austin just tightens his hold on your waist.

“Why don’t you join me?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Come on, baby,” Austin whines.

“No,” you laugh. You place your hands over his and try to pull them off of you, but again, no use.

“Okay, how about we do something else then?” Austin suggests, his voice getting lower as he begins to kiss the side of your neck.

“I thought you said you were tired,” you recall as you turn your head the best you can to get a good look at him.

“I am,” he tells you. You raise an eyebrow at him, already knowing he’s not finished. Austin then hovers his lips over the shell of your ear and whispers, “I’m tired of unpacking.”

You playfully shove him off of you, and this time he lets you. “Well, maybe if we get everything finished by the time the sun goes down, I’ll let you have what you want,” you offer, suppressing your smile as you move to the other side of the kitchen to tackle some of the boxes over there. 

“Y’know that is a good idea, but I have a better one,” you hear Austin say behind you, before you feel him grab your arm and spin you back towards him. A surprised gasp leaves your lips along with a giggle as your chest collides with his. “How about I just have what I want now?”

Before you could get another word out, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, already making his way in the direction of the bedroom.

“Oh come on!” you shout as you're turned upside down. You don’t put up much of a fight, as you allow Austin to drag you away.

“What? I gotta reassure you that you’re what I want,” you hear him say.

Once inside the bedroom, Austin plops you down onto the bed. As you start to crawl back towards the headboard, he just pulls you back down by the ankle.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you point out, your tone light. 

“And so are you,” Austin smirks as he begins to crawl over you. 

Just as his lips are about to connect with yours, you place a finger on his lips as something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

“Austin?”

“Yeah?” his eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“Why is my stuffed animal on the floor?”

“He wasn’t invited. That is unless you enjoy being watched, but I didn’t peg you for the type, baby,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Ew, quit it,” you lightly give his chest a shove.

“Wait a second, I didn’t hear you deny it,” Austin raises an eyebrow.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[mggssocks]

The Eighth

the eighth masterlist

pairing: Fem!Kook!Reader x Rafe Cameron

cw: a little nsfw smut but it's quick. that's it.

a/n: last chapter got so much love my heart is exploding so much rn. here's my appreciation: an extra long chapter five days before it was supposed to drop. lol thanks again.

“What?!” Becca’s voice shrieks through your phone speaker, nearly making you drop the blouse in your hand. You’re halfway through unpacking your suitcase- this time, for good.

“I just don’t see any point in going back to the OBX,” you say, folding the blouse and placing it into the drawer like it’s the final brick in a new chapter. “I mean… besides you. But even then, you’re about to start your whole family-business journey. I’d just be a distraction.”

“No, you wouldn’t! Stop saying that,” she argues. “And what about my birthday? You promised you’d help me set up.”

You sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be back this week to grab the rest of my stuff. And obviously I’ll be there for your birthday. But after that… it just doesn’t make sense to move back. My future’s here. You know it is.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end before she groans. “You’re the worst. But I love you, so I’m letting it slide.”

A small laugh slips from you. “Fair enough.”

“You’re gone. Marie’s going back to Charleston once summer’s over…”

“She lives in Charleston,” you tease. “Did you forget?”

“I know,” she says defensively. “But now I won’t have any real friends around.”

“Since when are you and Marie so close?” Your brows lift in amusement, even though she can’t see you.

“We’ve… gotten to know each other,” Becca answers carefully, her tone softer, layered.

There’s a pause -just a second too long- but you let it go.

“Well, at least thank you for finally taking my advice,” you say, flipping through the hangers in your closet. “Anyway, I gotta go. Celeste and I are heading to the spa.”

“Ohhh, remember when we used to go to the spa together?” Becca replies in a playfully jealous voice. There’s still a hint of something real beneath the teasing.

“Bye, Becca,” you say with a smile, shaking your head.

“Bye, Y/N. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hang up and sit back for a moment, looking around the room. Your new room. For the first time, the thought of not going back doesn’t make your stomach drop. It just feels… like the beginning.

-

Fashion shows. Board meetings. Watching designers drape, pin, and sketch. It all flies by in a blur of espresso, stilettos, and showroom lighting. Before you know it, it’s Thursday evening, and your driver is pulling up in front of your parents’ house.

You step out of the car, instinctively glancing at Tannyhill across the lawn. Same wraparound porch. Same house you used to sneak out of just to crawl into his bed.Now it just feels… far away. Like it belonged to a different version of you.

“Thank you,” you murmur as the chauffeur shuts the car door behind you.

The house is quiet when you enter. Too quiet. The type of silence that tells you no one’s home- and for once, you’re grateful.

You don’t have the patience for your mother’s smug “I told you so” about how much you enjoyed your New York experience.

You head upstairs and start packing two more suitcases. and when you go to look for your sewing kit, you remember exactly where it’s at and your heart sinks. You’re folding dresses when the sound of raucous laughter and revving engines cuts through the calm.

You pause. Walk to the balcony.

The street is packed. People line the sidewalk with their phones out, filming and laughing. A car crawls in reverse down the road, someone splayed dramatically across the hood, exhaling a bong rip toward the sky like it’s a music video.

You don’t need to guess whose party it is. Typical Rafe.

You roll your eyes, grab your hoodie, slip into your shoes, and snatch your keys. You’re not doing this for him. You just need your sewing kit. Nothing more.

You drive the short distance. Park a few houses down, out of sight. The place is chaos. Drunken twenty-somethings everywhere- red cups in hand, bass shaking the ground.

Children, you think to yourself, and you’re caught off guard by the word. Just a couple months ago, you were them.

Now? You feel different. Older, somehow. Maybe not wiser- but definitely not the girl who used to show up at these parties.

You slip through the front lawn, head down, hoodie up. You move like muscle memory through the crowd, avoiding faces, avoiding his face.

You know exactly where your kit is. In the sitting room. The one where you told each other you loved one another for the first time.

The memory stings, but you keep moving.

You round a hallway corner—and pause. There he is.

Rafe.

He’s laughing with some guy, drink in hand, head thrown back. Effortlessly magnetic. You duck your head and detour down another hallway, heart hammering.

In the sitting room, your kit is still there. Tucked in the corner behind the couch. Moved, definitely. He didn’t throw it out, though. He kept it. You spot the mannequin with the fabric still pinned in place. Part of you considers taking the whole thing, but it’s too bulky, too obvious. You rip the fabric off, fold it quickly-

“Hey, don’t touch my shit-”

You freeze. You know that voice. You turn slowly. There he is.

Rafe Cameron.

Arm draped casually around Sofia’s shoulder. Her expression shifts the moment she sees you.  She steps slightly out of his hold, discomfort flashing across her face.

His entire demeanor changes. The laughter’s gone. His eyes soften, like he didn’t expect to see you again, especially here.

You feel your throat tighten, but you won’t let yourself cry. Not in front of him.

You hold up the sewing kit wordlessly, forcing out a quiet explanation.

“I left this.” You don’t meet his eyes.

He blinks. Swallows. “Oh.” It’s all he says.

The weight of the summer sits heavy between you. He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

“I’m gonna-” you start, voice barely above a whisper.

But then you stop. There’s nothing left to say.

You push past him before he can see you fall apart, the sewing kit clutched tight in your arms like it might hold you together.

You move through the crowd. Down the porch stairs. Out of the noise.

You toss your things in the back seat, climb behind the wheel, and slam the door shut. You don’t know where you’re going. Just that it’s anywhere but here.

Somehow, you end up at the marsh- the one Rafe brought you to that first night. The place where everything started, when the both of you stopped pretending and actually saw each other for the first time.

Now, your knees are pressed tight to your chest, your arms wrapped around them, staring blankly at the dark water stretching in front of you. The marsh is quiet, save for the occasional chirp or rustle in the trees, but all you hear is static in your own head. A buzzing from the weight of it all crashing down on you.

Life is moving too fast. Too much.

And you’ve been trying to outrun it since the second you landed in New York.

That phone call. Her voice answering his phone. You shoved it so far down in your brain it doesn’t even feel real anymore. Probably some sort of trauma response. But seeing him tonight -really seeing him- with her?

His arm draped so effortlessly around Sofia, like it belonged there. Like the last two and a half months never happened. Like you didn’t say “I love you” in that exact same room where he stood tonight, letting another girl anchor herself to him like she knew him better than you ever could. It burns.

Your chest aches as the tears start to come. Slow at first, and then all at once. The memories, the pain, the humiliation. It feels like mourning a life that barely even had time to exist.

And then—

“You’re here.”

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. It slices through the silence, warm and familiar, even now.

But still- you do. You turn. And there he is.

Buzzed hair damp, probably from the humidity or maybe the beginnings of rain. Eyes glassy. Breath uneven. His party-boy sheen is gone. It’s just him, stripped down in the moonlight.

You look away quickly, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, praying the darkness hides the wreckage on your face.

“Yeah… I am,” you say, trying to sound indifferent. You fail.

He steps closer. “Mind if I sit?” he asks, nodding toward the spot beside you.

You barely respond, just shift slightly to make room.

A flash of lightning splits the sky above, casting everything in sharp silver for half a second. A warning, maybe. Or a sign.

He settles beside you. The space between you is small, but it feels like miles.

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” he says, voice low, eyes locked on the water like it’s safer to look at something else.

You let out a hollow laugh. “I’m not really back. Just picking up some more stuff.” You pause. “So… yeah. I guess I made up my mind.”

He turns to say something, but before he can-

“You moved on pretty fast,” you say, finally meeting his gaze.

He blinks. “I’m not moved on.” His voice sharpens. Defensive. “You think I wanted this?”

“You didn’t not want it,” you fire back. “You gave up, Rafe. You didn’t fight for me, you didn’t call, you didn’t even text. You let Sofia answer your phone like nothing between us even mattered.”

He stands now, breathing harder. “You think that’s what this is? Me moving on? I was drunk. She picked up my phone because I was too messed up to know where it even was.”

“Don’t,” you say, standing too. “Don’t blame the alcohol or the party or anything else. You ended things. You pushed me away. You told me if I left, we were done. So I left.”

“And that was a mistake,” he mutters.

“Yeah, no shit.”

The thunder rumbles in the distance. Rain starts. Light at first. Barely more than a drizzle.

“You said you loved me,” you say quietly, eyes on his. “If you did -really, truly did- you wouldn’t have ended things the way you did.”

His eyes shimmer, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. Not yet. “I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

“I wanted you.” Your voice cracks. “I would’ve fought for us. You were just… too scared to fight with me.”

Silence. The kind that feels loud. And then it starts pouring. A heavy, curtain-like rain that soaks your hoodie and your short and makes the whole world blur around the edges. You’re crying again. But you don’t care.

You step closer. “You say you love me, Rafe, but when it mattered- you shut down. You ran. You always run. So no. I don’t believe you ever loved me. I don’t think you ever could.”

He’s silent. Frozen. Staring at you like he wants to say everything but can’t find the words.

You scoff through your tears. “That’s what I thought.”

You turn, soaked, heartbroken, shaking..but then-

His hand wraps around your wrist. Firm. Certain.

“Wait,” he breathes, spinning you around so fast your chest bumps his.

Your breath catches.

His voice drops, rough and shaking. “What do you think about this?”

And then- He kisses you. Not soft. Not sweet.

It’s everything. Angry. Desperate. Like he’s trying to prove every word he couldn’t say. And for a moment, the rain, the hurt, the heartbreak- It all stops.

You’re soaked- and not just from the rain.

The moment your back hits the leather seat of Rafe’s car, it’s clear where this is going. His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and unrelenting. There are no words. None needed. You’ve both already said too much, and yet not nearly enough.

His hands roam under your soaked hoodie, gripping your waist, peeling the fabric off like he’s starving for you. Your tank top follows, tossed somewhere into the front seat. And then it’s him- his shirt, his jeans, every barrier between you stripped away until all that’s left is skin and heat and rain-slicked desperation.

You don’t even remember climbing into the back seat. Maybe he pulled you. Maybe you pulled him. But it doesn’t matter now. His body is between your legs, his glistening tip sliding slowly along your entrance, teasing you, taunting you. Your hands brush against in his damp hair as he trails kisses down your neck, grazing your collarbone, biting gently at the shell of your ear.

And then-

He thrusts into you.

A broken moan escapes you both, loud and raw. He holds you closer than he ever has during sex- like he’s trying to crawl inside you, like he’s trying to stay. His thrusts are deep, slow, and intentional, hips grinding against yours with every movement. It’s not just sex- it’s something else entirely. Something heavier. More dangerous. More real.

Your lips find his again, mouths moving in sync, tasting each other through moans and shallow breaths.

Rain drums hard against the roof of the car, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sounds between you. The wet slap of skin, the soft gasps, the cries of pleasure. Steam fogs the windows, wrapping you both in this cocoon of lust and love and unspoken heartbreak.

“Rafe,” you whimper, breath shaky.

He hears you this time. “I’m here, baby,” he breathes against your lips, biting gently on your lower one, then trailing kisses along your jawline.

Your head falls back. Eyes roll. One hand braces against the fogged window, streaking down with condensation. The car rocks beneath you.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, voice trembling. You pull him closer, your lips finding his in a messy, desperate kiss.

“Cum for me,” he growls, holding your face in one hand. “Cum all over my dick, pretty girl. Show me how much you missed me.”

He laces his fingers through yours, grounding you, anchoring you.

“That’s it -right there-” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m cumming-”

Your thighs clamp around his hips, and your body goes rigid- completely still as the orgasm rips through you. White-hot. Paralyzing. Perfect.

“Oh, baby,” he moans into your neck. His thrusts grow sloppier, more frantic. He’s close. So close.

And then he stills. A soft curse under his breath, followed by a deep, guttural moan as he spills inside you, hands gripping you like he never wants to let go.

The only sound now is your breathing. Heavy. Labored. Quiet.

You both move slowly, silently, gathering your clothes in the dim light, pulling them back on like armor. No words exchanged. Not yet.

You clear your throat, adjusting your hoodie. “I should get going,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, not on him.

He nods and opens the car door, stepping into the wet gravel. He reaches a hand out to help you down, knowing your knees are shot. You take it. His touch still lingers when you let go.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, walking with you to your car parked nearby. The rain has lightened, but the world still feels heavy.

Thank God you’d put the top up on the convertible earlier.

He opens the door for you. You slip in. He doesn’t close it right away. Instead, he leans against the window frame, chin resting on crossed arms, staring at you like he’s memorizing your face.

“I love you,” he says softly.

It almost breaks you. You want to melt into him. You want to say take me with you or come with me. You want the whole fairy tale. But this isn’t a story with a perfect ending. Not tonight. So instead, you give him a small, pained nod.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

He steps back as you start the engine. But just before you shift into gear-

“Hey,” he says again, and you look up. His eyes are pleading. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”

You pause. The words claw at your throat. You wish you could say yes. God, you want to say yes. But you know better.

“I can’t,” you say truthfully.

And then you’re pulling away.

You drive off into the night, the sound of gravel crunching beneath your tires. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t stop.

Not this time.

- 

The familiar weight of landing in New York hits your chest the second the plane touches down- though this time, it doesn’t feel like a trip. It feels like a turning point. You stare blankly out the window as the chauffeur navigates through the familiar rush of yellow cabs and honking horns, the skyline rising in front of you like it’s daring you to start over.

When you arrive at Celeste’s building, the doorman greets you by name this time. The little things -like that- make it feel real. Permanent.

You step into the penthouse, expecting to feel overwhelmed, but instead, it’s like the city has exhaled just for you. Celeste is, as always, dressed like she’s about to be photographed for Vogue- today in tailored wide-leg trousers and a silk blouse, sorting through a stack of mail with a glass of green juice in hand. She glances up as the door clicks shut behind you and offers you that signature smirk of hers. Knowing. Effortless.

“Hey, you,” she says, setting the mail aside, fully turning her attention to you. “Back in the city for good?”

You try to sound upbeat. Normal. Like your heart isn’t still bruised. “Hey. Yeah, looks like it.”

You nod once, tight and unsure, like saying it out loud might make it more real. Celeste reads you like a book but doesn’t push. Instead, she lights up like she’s been waiting for this moment.

“I actually have a little something for you,” she says, opening a drawer and pulling out a small black box.

Your brows lift. “What’s this for?”

“Just open it,” she insists with a twinkle in her eye.

You walk over, the heels of your boots clicking against the marble, and open the box. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, is a gleaming silver key.

You blink. “A… key?”

“To your own apartment!” she grins, practically bouncing.

You blink again, this time slower. “Wait, seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

You laugh, stunned. “Is this your really polite way of kicking me out?”

She gasps playfully. “Never! I just figured you’d feel more creatively free in your own space. You’re building something. You deserve to do it in your own place.”

You look at the key again. It shines like a new beginning. “When do I move in?”

“Well, I’ve got to get to the studio for a shoot, but this weekend for sure. Oh! And we are definitely going furniture shopping.”

-

The weekend blurs into a frenzy of shopping for fabrics and furniture, installing bookshelves, choosing wall art, and figuring out if you’re a “scented candle girl” or not (you decide you are). The apartment is high above the chaos of the city- quiet, sunlit, and breathtaking. A place that feels like yours. You barely have time to think about Rafe. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about you.

Chelsea texts to say Rafe stopped by. Brought flowers. A little box. A note. You promise to respond. But you don’t. You tell yourself you’re busy. The truth is, you’re scared of what answering him might do to the carefully built walls around your new world.

Nights are harder. You unpack your OBX things alone, piece by piece, item by item. A hoodie. A half-full sketchbook. The sewing kit. The mannequin.

You sit on the edge of your bed at 1:03 a.m., phone in hand, his contact open. You think of calling.

But instead, you imagine him asleep. At Tannyhill. Or not asleep at all. Maybe with someone else. Either way, you lock your phone and press it to your chest.

-

The weeks slip by like water- fashion meetings, showroom launches, networking brunches. You’re productive. Pulled together. Floating between espresso machines and editorial boards like you’ve been doing it your whole life. There are flashes where you feel like yourself again. Then there are moments where you wonder if you’ve just gotten really good at pretending.

You’re wandering the halls of the Met one late afternoon, alone, trying to trigger some spark of inspiration for your next collection. You linger in front of a massive piece that feels too abstract to be brilliant but too deliberate to be random.

“This is stupid, right?” The voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You glance to your side. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, tousled dark hair and that New York City jawline. He’s beautiful. Effortlessly so.

You raise a brow. “Stupid’s a strong word for a piece that’s hanging in the Met.”

He grins. “Alright, pretentious, then.”

You cross your arms, turning slightly toward him. “It’s commentary on chaos versus intention. Maybe it’s not meant to be pretty. Maybe it’s just honest.”

His smile deepens. “Okay, art school. I stand corrected.”

You laugh -actually laugh- and it surprises you. The tension in your chest loosens a little.

“I’m Owen,” he says, offering a hand. “Photographer. Born and raised here. Are you one of those impossibly cool transplants?”

You take his hand. “Y/N. Designer. Recently relocated. And yes, impossibly cool.”

He tilts his head toward the museum café. “Can I buy you a coffee to make up for calling your art stupid?”

You hesitate, glancing down at your phone. “I actually have to be somewhere in a few. But… I wouldn’t mind keeping the debate going sometime.”

He grins again, slower this time. “You’re smooth.”

You shrug. “I’ve been told.”

He pulls out his phone and opens a new contact. “Then let’s make it official. Number?”

You trade phones and type in your info. A moment later, your phone buzzes with a text.

[Unknown]: I owe you a latte and a second opinion on pretentious modern art.

You glance up at him with a soft smile. “Looking forward to it.”

You smile softly as you step back out into the golden hush of early evening. The sidewalk is bustling. The city smells like roasted peanuts and ambition. But as you make your way through the crowd, your mind drifts.

You think of Rafe.

You shake your head and try to focus on the present- the sound of car horns, the art still swimming in your head, Owen’s text lighting up your phone.

But the ache? It lingers anyway. Like a bruise in a place only you can feel.

-

The city glows below, windows lit like stars scattered across the skyline. You’re tucked up at your desk by the window, sketchpad in front of you, a soft pencil dragging across the paper as you bring a new design to life. Your Mac is on in front of you, FaceTime connected to Becca, who’s lying across her massive bed back in the OBX.

“I swear to God,” she says, mid-rant, “if my mother tries to set me up with another guy who ‘owns his own landscaping business,’ I’m committing to girls only. I’m done.”

You grin without looking up. “So girls only now?”

“Girls only,” she confirms, sighing dramatically and rolling onto her back. “Men are exhausting.”

At that moment, both your phone and Mac ding. Instinctively, your eyes lift to your Mac screen.

Unknown Number: You doing anything tomorrow night?

You pause, blinking. You don’t recognize the number, but you already know. A smirk tugs at 

your lips as you pick up your phone and type back:

You: I’m sorry… who is this?

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Becca’s voice cuts in, amused.

Your eyes flick back to the screen just as the reply comes in.

Unknown: You’ve gotta be kidding me. Camera guy? Bad at reading art? Does any of that ring a bell? You schooled me earlier today on it.

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head.

“Y/N!” Becca’s calling again, waving a hand in front of her camera.

You type quickly:

You: Ohhh. Yeah, you were pretty bad at reading art.

“Okay, spill,” Becca says, sitting up and propping her phone on her bed. “Who is he?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Just this guy I met earlier today at the Met. I was looking at one of the new installations and he came up and started talking trash about it. I couldn’t not correct him.”

Becca gasps. “You schooled a stranger?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” You grin as another message pops up:

Unknown (now saved as Owen): So???

You: ‘So’ what?

“What’s his name?” Becca asks, practically bouncing.

“Owen,” you say, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. Not on purpose- just instinct.

“Owennn,” Becca drawls teasingly. “I like that. Is he cute?”

“He’s actually really cute,” you admit. “And a photographer.”

“Oooh, artsy. That’s very New York of you.”

Owen: You doing anything tomorrow night?

You: Most likely not doing anything. What’s up?

Owen: A friend of mine is hosting an art exhibition. You should come.

You raise an eyebrow at your phone.

Becca watches you with narrowed eyes. “So is Rafe just… gone? Like, totally out of the picture now?”

You pause, your pencil hovering above the sketchpad. “I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “I mean… what picture is there to be in? He ended it.”

Becca makes a face, then hesitates.

“What?” you ask.

“Speaking of him,” she says slowly, “he won’t stop harassing me about you.”

Your heart dips unexpectedly. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you or if you wanted to hear it. But he keeps texting, asking how you’re doing, if I’ve heard from you. He’s… kind of a wreck.”

You don’t know what to say. Your chest tightens but you quickly sit up straighter, clearing your throat. “I don’t know what he expects,” you say. “He made his choice. And I made mine.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I just thought you should know,” Becca says gently. “I didn’t want to keep it from you.”

You nod, eyes flicking back to your phone. Owen’s message is still glowing.

Owen: It’s in SoHo. Chill crowd, I promise. Come have fun.

You press your lips together, then type:

You: Okay. I’m in.

Becca catches the subtle shift in your mood but doesn’t press.

“Owen better be worth it,” she teases instead.

You smirk and shake your head, looking back down at your sketchpad. “I’m just trying to make friends.”

-

You step into the warehouse, the scent of paint and champagne mingling in the air. The space is dimly lit with warm amber bulbs that hang loosely from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the exposed brick walls and concrete floors. Occasional bursts of flash from both professional cameras and iPhones flicker through the room like fireflies.

Clusters of people sip from slender champagne flutes and laugh in that low, throaty way that only people born into wealth seem to perfect. At a glance, you could almost believe they’re just normal twenty-somethings living the starving artist dream. But it only takes a few seconds to tell- these aren’t broke New Yorkers chasing artistry. These are the children of CEOs and hedge fund managers, reveling in the aesthetic of struggle like it’s performance art.

You shift slightly in your powder blue backless halter top and tailored black capris that kiss just below your knees. The outfit is simple, elevated, and perfect for the fading end-of-summer warmth. And yet, you feel entirely out of place. You can feel the stares, subtle but unmistakable, trailing you like perfume as you walk further into the gallery.

You pull out your phone.

You: I’m here. Where are you?

As you lower your phone, your eyes scan the artwork- colorful, chaotic, interesting in a raw kind of way. You pause in front of one, arms crossed as you tilt your head thoughtfully.

Then you hear it- an enthusiastic voice floating across the room.

“Thank you! Thank you so much for coming! You guys are amazing!”

You glance toward the source and spot her. She’s moving from group to group like sunlight, radiating ease. She’s got blonde hair styled in a messy ponytail tied with a vintage scarf, a pale pink off-the-shoulder t-shirt tucked into white bloomer shorts, and beat-up, hand-drawn Converse covered in doodles and signatures. She looks like Gigi Hadid if Gigi had a passion for art school critiques and lavender incense.

She sweeps her bangs out of her eyes and makes direct eye contact with you, her bright smile catching you a little off guard.

“Well, I know I haven’t seen you before,” she says, walking right up to you.

You offer a polite smile and extend your hand. “Hi, I’m-”

“Oh, sorry- I’ve got this germ thing.” Still, she takes your index finger between hers in a loose little shake that somehow feels more genuine than any firm handshake you’ve had. You laugh.

“-Y/N,” you finish.

“Noel,” she replies, her cheekbones practically casting shadows in the moody lighting. “Thanks for coming to my exhibit. I seriously appreciate it.”

“Y/N!” a voice calls from behind you.

You turn and spot Owen, striding over in a white long-sleeve layered under a black T-shirt, well-worn jeans, and his camera slung around his neck. He looks like he just walked off a ‘cool guy at an indie film festival’ Pinterest board.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Noel,” he says.

“I have,” you smile, glancing between them.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Noel asks, pointing between the two of you with a curious look.

“Barely,” you tease.

Owen clutches his chest like you’ve wounded him. “Wow. That’s bestie to you.”

You laugh -really laugh- and feel some of your nerves melt away.

“We met at the Met yesterday,” you explain.

“She schooled me on art,” Owen adds with a shrug.

“I like you already.” Noel loops her arm through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You’re surprised- but not unwelcome to it.

“Wait, wait- Noel, are you cheating on me already?” another voice rings out.

You turn to see a tall, stunning girl walk over. She looks like a young Kimora Lee Simmons- statuesque, glam without trying, dressed in sleek trousers and a cropped blazer with a diamond tennis bracelet that sparkles every time she moves. Her presence is commanding in that effortless New York way.

“Don’t pay her any mind,” Noel says with a grin, squeezing your arm lightly.

“Hi,” the girl says to you with a slow smile, already assessing your vibe with ease.

“Y/N, this is Allegra, my roommate. Allegra, Y/N, Owen’s friend,” Noel says. 

Allegra narrows her eyes at you, then points a manicured finger in your direction. “Wait a second… you’re the girl who moved in at Lucent apartments, aren’t you?”

You blink. “Um- yeah, I guess I am.”

“I knew you looked familiar. I saw you coming in with Celeste the other day. She’s basically Manhattan royalty, by the way.” Allegra smirks. “Nice to finally meet our mystery neighbor.”

You nod with a nervous smile, but she’s already waving it off like she’s claimed you as one of her own.

The rest of the night becomes a blur of laughter, art debates, and light gossip. You find yourself trailing after the trio like a lost puppy- Noel’s bright warmth, Owen’s quiet charm, and Allegra’s bold confidence make it easy to fall into step. Somewhere between sips of rosé and Noel dragging you to see her favorite piece (“it was inspired by a dream I had after eating expired cheese”), you realize something surprising.

You could really see yourself being friends with them. Allegra reminded you so much of Becca’s attitude and Noel had that same sweetness of Marie.

-

“Do you ladies need me to walk you up?” Owen asks as the four of you step out of the cab in front of your building. The city hums quietly around you, late-night traffic whispering in the distance. He’d been sweet enough to cover the ride, despite Allegra’s half-hearted protests.

Noel raises an eyebrow, a few stray paintbrushes and a folded sketch in her hand. “What, to like… protect us?”

Owen shrugs. “Well… yeah.”

Noel bursts out laughing. “What are you gonna do? Blind someone with the flash of your camera?”

Allegra tosses her hair over one shoulder, smirking. “Or maybe hit them with an aggressively artistic critique?”

The two of them crack up and you stifle your own laugh, trying not to completely gang up on him- though the image was funny. Still, there’s something endearing about his concern.

“We got it,” Allegra says with a wink as she slips her arm through yours, leading you and Noel toward the front entrance.

“Bye,” Owen calls, one hand in his pocket and the other lifting into a lazy wave.

“Byeeee!” Noel chimes back, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet street. You glance over your shoulder and smile, waving with the hand not tangled up in Allegra’s.

The elevator ride up is slow and golden-lit. Allegra leans casually against the mirrored wall, like she’s in a Vogue street-style spread without even trying.

“So,” she starts, eyeing you with genuine interest, “where are you from?”

“Outer Banks. North Carolina,” you reply, shifting your weight slightly.

Noel perks up. “Is that like… beachy?”

You smile at her phrasing. “Yeah, it’s a string of barrier islands off the coast. Small town. Lots of boats. Lots of gossip.”

Allegra hums. “Sounds like an Instagram dream but also my personal nightmare.”

The elevator dings softly and the doors glide open.

“You guys from here?” you ask, stepping out into the hallway.

“Born and raised,” Noel says proudly, tucking her brushes into her tote. “Well, technically Westchester, but still. Close enough.”

“I’m from L.A. Originally,” Allegra says. “Moved here at eighteen to kickstart my modeling career. Got bored of having palm trees in every picture.”

You knew it -her bone structure, that effortless confidence- she had to be a model.

As you approach your door, Noel strides across the hallway and grabs the handle of the one directly across from yours. She stops suddenly and gasps.

“No way!” Her voice is way too loud for nearly two in the morning.

Allegra quickly shushes her with a finger to her lips. “Noel,” she hisses. “It’s 1:47 AM.”

Noel ignores her, spinning back to face you. “You live here?”

You nod, slightly amused. “Moved in a few weeks ago.”

Allegra’s eyes widen slightly. “Small world.”

“Astoundingly small,” Noel says in a much more hushed tone. Without warning, she wraps you in a tight, excited hug. “We’re literally neighbors!”

Allegra raises an eyebrow and gives you a more reserved, almost too cool hug- the kind where her arms barely touch you but still somehow feel polite.

“Well,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “welcome to the building. And thanks for showing up for the art show. That meant a lot to her.”

“Of course. Thanks for kind of adopting me for the night.” You grin, unlocking your front door.

The three of you exchange quiet goodbyes before you slip inside and click the door shut behind you.

The heels come off first.

You lean against the wall for a second, the silence of your apartment washing over you like a long exhale. Then you smile -genuinely, softly- as you realize that for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel… home.

-

It’s officially one week before the first day of fall- and just two weeks before you’ll have to head back to the Outer Banks. You’re trying not to think about that too hard. For now, you’re tucked inside a thrift store in the East Village with Allegra and Noel, weaving through tightly packed racks of vintage coats and worn-in leather jackets.

You tug on a long camel trench and examine yourself in the dusty mirror near the corner.

“You’re giving cool-mom-at-school-dropoff,” Noel comments, deadpan as ever, while she flips through a rack of oversized corduroy blazers.

“She needs something edgier,” Allegra declares, sweeping over with a ridiculous faux-fur bucket hat that looks like it crawled out of a 90s music video. She plops it on your head without warning. The three of you burst into laughter as you turn to face the mirror, your reflection looking like someone who accidentally time-traveled from a Beastie Boys tour.

Then your phone starts ringing. Becca. She’s FaceTiming you.

You quickly swipe to answer, tugging the bucket hat off your head. “Hey, Becs!”

“Hey,” she replies, slightly breathless. Her phone is propped up on a treadmill at the gym- she’s mid incline walk, cheeks pink, hair up. “Where are you?”

“Thrift store. Jacket shopping. It’s about to get cold and I’m wildly unprepared,” you say, brushing a lint-covered sleeve off your shoulder as Noel places another tragic-looking hat on your head, sending both girls into another fit of giggles.

Becca squints. “A thrift store? In New York?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I mean, I get the ones in Kildare. They’re basically curated. But New York City thrift stores? That’s… bold.”

Allegra immediately grabs your wrist and flips the camera so it faces her.

“It’s a New York thing,” she says smoothly, flashing Becca a perfectly casual smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

There’s no venom in her tone, but it still makes your stomach twist slightly.

Becca presses her lips together, raising her eyebrows like she’s biting back an opinion. You know her well enough to read her thoughts before she says them. So before any passive-aggressive digs can happen, you swipe the camera back to your face.

“Anyway,” Becca says, changing the subject. “Just calling to remind you my birthday is in exactly two weeks.”

“I know, Becca,” you say with a smile, balancing your phone on top of the shelf of racks as you flick through a rack of quilted jackets. “I don’t need reminders for things I’d never forget. I already bought my ticket- I’ll be there two days early to help set up.”

“Okay, well… that’s the other thing,” she says, tone dropping. Her pace on the treadmill slows.

You freeze a little, glancing up at Allegra and Noel, now throwing what they’ve dubbed “ugly hats” at each other across the aisle. One lands on the floor and earns them a death glare from the teenage employee behind the counter.

“What ‘other thing’?” you ask cautiously.

“Rafe is also helping.”

You blink. “I’m sorry… in what world is Rafe Cameron helping set up for your party? And why?”

Becca exhales. “Apparently, he and Beau are friends again. I don’t know all the details. But if you ask me? He’s using Beau to get to me to get to you. Classic Rafe move.”

You sigh deeply, head tilting back slightly as you stare at the ugly fluorescent lights above.

“Anything else I should know before I book a hotel instead of staying with you?”

Becca hesitates. “Yeah… but I’ll save it for when you get here.”

“Great,” you mutter, sarcasm clear. You say your goodbyes, and after the call ends, you slip your phone into your pocket, shoulders heavy.

“So…” Noel starts, her voice light and curious. “Who’s Rafe?”

“And seriously, what kind of name is that?” Allegra adds, tossing a vintage wool beret back onto the hat rack.

You exhale slowly, stepping toward the exit. “He’s my ex. And I honestly don’t know.”

Allegra and Noel exchange a look as the three of you step back out onto the sidewalk, empty-handed.

“He’s gonna be at your friend’s birthday?” Noel asks, already adjusting her oversized denim jacket.

“Apparently,” you say with a tight, exhausted smile. Just the thought of seeing Rafe again has your stomach in knots. Not because you miss him -though you do, in ways you haven’t admitted- but because you’re not ready to answer the question of why you haven’t responded to him. Why you’ve left all his texts unread. Why you’ve made it so easy for him to believe you’ve moved on.

“You need a pick-me-up,” Allegra says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Sushi? I know a place in SoHo. It’s low-key but their spicy tuna rolls are transcendent.”

You nod quickly, grateful for the change of topic. “Yes. God, yes.”

The three of you link arms, laughter trailing behind you as you disappear into the golden hour glow of the Lower East Side, pretending -for now- that your past wasn’t about to catch up with you in two weeks.

-

Your stomach twists as you turn into the long, curved driveway of Becca’s house, the gravel crunching beneath your tires like it’s warning you to turn back. Familiarity should bring comfort, but today it just heightens your nerves.

You don’t see Rafe’s black SUV anywhere- your eyes scan the area twice just to be sure. But there is a new, sleek Porsche parked off to the side. You can’t tell if it’s his or Beau’s. It could belong to either of them, and honestly, that uncertainty only makes your anxiety worse.

You kill the engine and sit for a second, hands still on the wheel. Just breathe.

Grabbing your duffle bag from the back seat, you walk up to the house. You don’t bother ringing the doorbell. Her parents are out of town, conveniently avoiding the chaos of their daughter’s birthday weekend. Classic. Still, even after all these years of friendship, they never quite warmed up to the idea of you letting yourself in like this was your second home. Maybe it was a wealth thing- boundaries and status, even among best friends.

The front door clicks shut behind you, muffling the sounds of muffled music and distant voices. You head straight down the hall, past the grand staircase, through the foyer lined with glossy family portraits, and toward Becca’s favorite part of the house- the theater room. Well, favorite aside from her bedroom, which was more like a curated showroom of mood boards and mid-century modern dreams.

As you round the corner, you collide -hard- with a firm, familiar chest. The contact knocks the breath out of you, and your fingers tighten reflexively around your bag strap. You look up. Rafe.

His hair is more buzzed than you remember, and he smells like expensive cologne and laundry detergent and summer. Your throat tightens. For a second, neither of you moves.

“…Hey,” he says, voice low and uncertain. He doesn’t sound surprised you’re here- more like caught off guard by how early.

“Hi,” you say, stepping back quickly like distance will give you composure.

He stares at you, jaw clenching slightly, like he’s holding back words that have been sitting on his tongue for weeks.

“Rafe! Can you grab more waters for the cooler?” Becca calls from inside the theater room, her voice cheerful and oblivious to the sudden tension in the hallway.

You take the moment to sidestep around him, not looking up again until you’re safely inside the room. And when you do glance back -just for a second- he’s still standing there. Still watching you. Like he hasn’t seen you in months. Like he’s afraid to blink. And just like that, your heartbeat kicks up again.

You hate how much it still affects you.

“Becs!” you shout, dropping your duffle bag to the floor as you step into the theater room.

Becca is halfway up a ladder, taping a curly string of party décor to the ceiling. She looks down at you and beams.

“Y/N!”

She doesn’t even think- she jumps from the ladder without a second thought and launches herself at you. You yelp as the two of you tumble backwards, collapsing onto the plush theater chairs in a heap of limbs and laughter.

“Ow!” you cry through a laugh, clinging to her. “Are you trying to kill me before the party even starts?”

“She’s trying to kill herself,” Beau calls from the other side of the room, where he’s fiddling with some laser lights near the stage setup.

“Hush, Botox,” you tease without looking at him.

Becca gasps dramatically but doesn’t snap back- she’s too giddy. She’s hugging you like you’ve been gone for years, not weeks, and you hug her back just as tightly.

Once you’re both upright again, she brushes glitter off her leggings while you catch your breath- only to glance up and freeze.

Rafe’s just walked in, a heavy case of water bottles balanced in his arms. The moment your eyes meet, something sharp twists in your stomach. You drop your gaze just as quickly.

“Over here,” Beau calls, gesturing to the snack bar setup.

Rafe silently detours, dropping to one knee as he begins loading the bottles into the mini fridge. His shoulders are tense, but his gaze flicks up to you more than once as he works.

Beau comes over and throws a one-armed hug around your shoulders. “Glad you made it, trouble.”

You smile, distracted, and glance back toward Rafe before turning your attention to Becca, who’s unplugging the vacuum and wrapping the cord in her arms.

“You could’ve warned me,” you mutter under your breath, lips barely moving as you smile in that painfully fake, we’re-in-front-of-other-people kind of way.

Becca glances at you and mimics the exact same forced smile. “You knew he’d be here.”

“Not this early!” you hiss, still smiling, both of you locked in this weirdly telepathic girl-code exchange of facial expressions and fake grins before you break into real laughter.

“We’re going up to my room,” Becca announces to the guys as she tosses the vacuum cord over her shoulder.

Beau nods. “Cool. We’re ordering pizza- what do you want?”

“Pepperoni, please,” Becca calls back.

“Pi-” you start to say, but Rafe cuts in from behind the counter, not even looking up.

“Pineapple,” he mutters.

Your eyes snap to him.

Beau looks between the two of you, eyebrow raised, clearly clocking the tension.

“Yeahhhh,” Becca says quickly, clapping her hands. “We’re going upstairs now.”

She grabs your wrist and guides you toward the hallway. “Call us when the pizza gets here!” she tosses over her shoulder as you both leave the room, her voice a little too bright, a little too fast.

As soon as the door swings shut behind you, you exhale.

She doesn’t say anything for a few steps. Then: “Well, that wasn’t as awkward as it could’ve been.”

You groan. “It’s barely been two minutes.”

“And look at us- already surviving.”

You bump her shoulder lightly with yours. “We’ll see.”

You and Becca are sitting cross-legged on her bed, knees almost touching, her hands gripping yours like she’s about to deliver life-altering news. She’s got that look on her face- eyebrows pinched, lips pursed, eyes dancing like she’s fighting the urge to burst.

“Becca, you’re scaring me,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Just… don’t freak out, okay?” she pleads, squeezing your hands once before pulling hers back to brace herself. Her eyes squeeze shut. “Marie and I slept together,” she blurts, then immediately shoves her fist into her mouth, eyes wide and panicked like she just confessed to murder.

There’s a full five-second delay in your brain. Like a loading sign. Spinning. Spinning.

“Like… slept slept together?” you ask slowly. “Or just… same bed, passed out after a movie…?”

Becca groans. “Slept slept together,” she repeats, cracking her eyes open, waiting for your judgment.

You blink at her. Then again. “Wow,” you finally breathe. “I have so many questions.”

She exhales sharply, half laughing, half still bracing. “Remember when you and Rafe went to breakfast that one morning? And you told us to hang out?”

You nod slowly. “Oh, trust me, I now know exactly what kind of ‘hanging out’ went down. Ew.”

“I was gonna tell you,” she insists, flopping back onto the bed. “That night we were on your balcony? When you were crying and I told you to go after him instead? I had the perfect opening!”

You lean back on your palms, eyes wide. “Wait… is that why you said you were done with guys?”

She blushes instantly. And then bursts into laughter, covering her face with her hands.

You laugh with her, shaking your head. “Oh my god, Becca.”

“I mean… girls are still men, in some ways,” she groans into her hands. “But like, at least this one moisturizes and smells like lavender.”

“I need a minute to recover,” you say, pretending to fan yourself.

The two of you fall into light chatter, laughter trailing into comfort. Eventually, Becca groans and hops off the bed.

“I think I have an eyelash stabbing my retina,” she says dramatically, disappearing into the ensuite bathroom to investigate in the mirror.

Just as she closes the door behind her, there’s a soft knock at Becca’s bedroom door.

“Y/N!” she calls from the bathroom, voice muffled. “Can you grab that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting it,” you mutter, rolling off the bed. You open the door- and freeze.

Rafe is standing there, a plate in each hand and two bottles of water awkwardly tucked beneath his arm. His eyes unreadable, flicking from your face to somewhere over your shoulder and back again.

You’re surprised. But not really.

“I brought these up… for you guys,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not sure if this is going to earn him a thank you or a door slammed in his face.

Your mouth opens a second before your brain catches up. “Thanks,” you say dryly, reaching for the plates.

He nods, then grabs the water bottles from under his arm and reaches past you to set them down on the dresser near the door. You notice the way his arm brushes yours- probably not by accident.

As you start to close the door, he hesitates. “I, uh-” he points to one of the plates, the one clearly meant for you. “I picked the ham off the pineapple. I know you don’t like it.”

You glance down at the plate. Then back at him. Your walls threaten to slip. “Thanks… again.”

He shrugs, shoving his hands deep into his pockets like it’s the only way to stop himself from saying more.

And then -because of course he can’t help himself- he leans a little closer, that smug half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You always get that look when you’re about to close the door on me,” he murmurs. “Just like you did that night in the rain- right after you let me fuck you in the back of my car.”

Your breath catches. Heat shoots to your cheeks.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god,” you whisper, scandalized.

Rafe raises both eyebrows innocently, clearly smug.

Without another word, you slam the door in his face- not hard, but not gently either.

From the bathroom, Becca calls, “What was that?!”

You walk back to the bed with the plates and water, cheeks burning. “Rafe being Rafe,” you mutter, flopping down and groaning into the pillows.

Becca pokes her head out from the bathroom, eye red and watery. “Was he shirtless? I feel like that is something he’d do.”

You throw a pillow at her, laughing.

-

You’re in the kitchen flipping pancakes, the warm scent of butter and syrup wafting through the air. You’re dressed in a black bikini, a semi-sheer white sarong tied low on your hips. Your hair is out, natural and untamed, curls soft and framing your face. You hadn’t bothered to style it today- and somehow, that made you feel more like yourself. More like home.

Behind you, Becca dances barefoot around the island, her playlist blasting through the portable speaker as she chops a medley of strawberries, kiwi, and mango into a giant fruit bowl.

“With how loud your music is and how good those pancakes smell, you better be making some for us too,” Beau’s groggy voice cuts through the beat. You turn your head and laugh as he steps into the kitchen, shirtless and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“I’m making damn near the entire box,” you say with a grin. “Trust me, Becs and I aren’t about to eat a dozen pancakes on our own.”

“Speak for yourself,” Becca calls from across the kitchen.

You flip the final batch onto a plate and start assembling them into four neat servings, layering fruit for yourself and Becca and leaving two plates plain.

That’s when Rafe walks in. He’s in a white ribbed tank and low-slung shorts,he clearly just rolled out of bed. Your eyes meet for a brief moment- just long enough to make your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

You quickly pass a plate to Becca. “This one’s for him,” you say under your breath.

She raises an eyebrow but takes it anyway, walking it over to Rafe without a word. Still, when you turn around, you nearly crash into him.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping back.

He steadies the plate in one hand. “Thanks… for the pancakes.”

You nod once. “Yeah… No fruit?”

“Not today,” he says with a shrug, then glances at your plate and back to your face. “You think I should get some?”

The question is simple, but something in the way he asks it makes your stomach tighten. You raise an eyebrow and smile, unsure why it feels like middle school-level flirting all over again.

“You should probably get some,” you say softly.

His grin creeps in slowly. “Do you want me to?”

You bite your lip, trying not to look too amused. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” he repeats, that teasing lilt in his voice now, like he’s enjoying this more than he’ll admit.

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get some just for you.” He’s already reaching for the fruit bowl, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he scoops a generous helping into a smaller bowl. You catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You take the bowl from him and set it on his plate, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. His gaze lingers for a second longer than it should.

“You look really pretty,” he says suddenly, looking down as he adjusts the bowl next to his pancakes like he’s trying to hide the heat rising to his face.

You freeze for half a second. The compliment lands heavier than you expected.

“Thank you, Rafe,” you say quietly, warmth spreading through your chest and up your neck.

“Y/N!” Becca calls through the sliding door, already stepping out toward the patio with her plate and a drink in hand.

You grab your own plate and cup, your pulse still dancing from the interaction.

“Yeah! I’m coming,” you call back, but your eyes flick back to Rafe one last time before you follow her out. He’s watching you walk away.

And for a moment, it feels like everything -the tension, the history, the attraction- is suspended in that charged space between pancakes and fruit.

You push the door open, the summer air hitting your skin as you step outside, trying to shake the feeling that you’re still carrying Rafe with you. Even out here.

“Tell me you weren’t just in there flirting with him,” Becca says flatly, popping a strawberry into her mouth as she reclines back on the lounge chair beside you.

You roll your eyes, chewing on a bite of pancake. “We were having a normal conversation, like functioning adults. Shocking, I know.”

“Reminder: he broke up with you. Over the phone.” Her tone is calm but edged with just enough sass to land the blow.

You wince and narrow your eyes. “Jesus, Bec. You don’t have to remind me like that.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “Don’t let him sweet-talk his way back into your life. You’ve come too far for that.”

“I ignored him for weeks after the breakup,” you say, your voice tight. “And that was after we slept together.”

Becca’s head snaps toward you so fast her sunglasses nearly slide off. “Wait… what?”

You freeze, a half-chewed bite of pancake turning to dust in your mouth. “Oh.”

Her brows shoot up. “Did you just say you had sex with him after you broke up?”

You swallow hard and glance away. “Technically, yes.”

She spins on the lounge chair to fully face you, abandoning her plate altogether. “Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you groan, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. “We did.”

Her mouth drops open in pure betrayal. “When? When the hell did this happen?”

“Shhh!” You reach over and swat her arm, scanning the patio door nervously. “Keep your voice down.”

“Well maybe don’t drop breakup bombshells like that poolside and I wouldn’t have to yell.”

You sigh and tuck your legs underneath you. “It was when I came back to grab more stuff. I wasn’t planning on seeing him- swear. But I went to the marsh to clear my head and… somehow he showed up too.”

Becca raises a brow. “You’re telling me this was a coincidence?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” You shrug, embarrassed. “One minute we’re arguing, the next it’s pouring rain, and we’re in the back of his SUV and he’s-” You pause, waving a hand vaguely. “-doing things.”

Becca blinks. “Okay. First of all? Public, post-breakup sex in a rainstorm? Iconic. That’s some Titanic level drama. Love that for you.”

You smirk in spite of yourself.

“But second of all,” she continues, “how did you not tell me this? I’m your best friend. This is the kind of stuff we live for.”

You groan and sink deeper into your chair. “Because I’ve been trying to forget it happened myself, that’s why.”

“Forget what?” Beau’s voice interrupts as he and Rafe push through the patio door, both holding plates stacked with pancakes.

Your eyes widen. You glance at Becca like please say nothing.

“None of your business,” she says breezily, standing up as she spots the massive wheelbarrow full of bright pool floaties behind them. “What are you two doing?”

Beau sets his plate down on the nearest table. “Blowing up floaties. We got dolphins, flamingos, one of those ridiculous oversized pizza slices-”

“Wanna help?” Rafe asks, looking mostly at you.

Becca doesn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely not.”

You take a long sip from your iced coffee and look away, pretending to suddenly find the trees in Becca’s backyard fascinating. Because if you look at him again, even for a second, you might not be able to keep pretending last time wasn’t unforgettable.

-

You and Becca are waist-deep in the pool, rotating through floaties under the guise of “testing” them. In reality, the boys are doing all the heavy lifting -Beau manning the electric pump, Rafe handling the ones that need manual inflation- while you and Becca lazily drift around, swapping floaters every now and then.

You’re currently slung over a giant yellow banana float like a sleepy panda on a tree branch, arms and legs draped dramatically, your sunglasses hiding the fact that you’re shamefully watching Rafe.

Why did he have to take off his shirt? And why does he look so hot blowing up pool floats? You’re pretty sure no one’s ever had that thought before, but here you are.

The sun reflects off the water, and you feel yourself slowly drifting toward the pool’s edge, still clinging to the banana float and trying not to stare too hard as Rafe finishes with a donut-shaped one.

He walks over to the edge where you’ve floated, shirtless, tan, and looking maddeningly unbothered. His hand wraps around the front tip of the banana float, halting your journey. The water ripples against you.

“Heyyyy,” you whine, startled from your daydream. “I was floating.”

He laughs, low and amused, and plops the donut float into the pool beside you. “Time to switch out,” he says with a smirk, like he’s talking to a child refusing to get off the swing.

“I don’t feel like switching.” The protest barely leaves your mouth before he’s stepping into the pool with zero hesitation, water sloshing around him. In one smooth motion, his arms are around your waist, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp as he gently drops you into the donut float.

“I would’ve gotten up,” you grumble, adjusting your position. “This is just… a lot. All these float switches? I think my fingers are officially prunes.” You lift a hand for dramatic effect and flop your head back.

“Oh yeah,” Rafe says, climbing out of the water again, his shorts clinging to his legs. He shoots you a playful look over his shoulder. “You’ve definitely got the hardest job here. Lounging in the pool while we blow up thirty inflatables.”

“You forgot the part where I also have to rotate every five minutes so my tan doesn’t get uneven,” you add.

“Tragic,” he calls back, grabbing another deflated float from the pile.

Becca, across the pool on a flamingo float, calls out, “If she complains one more time, throw her 

on the pizza slice and spin her around.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rafe says with a teasing glance your way, his lips tugging into a familiar smirk- the kind that makes your heart beat faster than you’d like to admit.

You sink a little deeper into the donut float, willing your pulse to chill out.

Because God help you… he’s still got it.

[luvergirl-535]

something like love

part - 5

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.0k

c/w - language

a/n - yall have been all up in my asks today, so i pumped this chapter out. gotta give the people what they want fr. sorry it’s a lil short, this chapter was kind of a filler tbh! also, did anyone catch the irl past references in the first scene? ;) as always, hope yall enjoy!! (also, this is unedited. like usual lol)

Azzi is woken bright and early the next morning by none other than her best friend, who seems awfully cheerful considering the night they just had.

“Wow, P,” Azzi grumbles once she’s sitting up in bed, watching Paige buzz around the room through bleary eyes. “It’s early for you.”

“Didn’t really sleep,” Paige says, slipping out of her pajamas so she’s only in boxers and a sports bra. (Azzi knows she should probably look away, but she doesn’t.) “We gotta run to the store, get up.”

“Okay,” Azzi yawns, blinking slowly while Paige slips into a pair of basketball shorts and a crop top that Azzi’s pretty sure belongs to her. “Be up in a sec.” But Paige disappears into the bathroom and Azzi can’t help but lay back down, snuggling under the warm sheets—if she’s being honest, she didn’t get much sleep last night, either. But where the lack of sleep is making Paige hyper, it’s making Azzi want nothing more than drift back off for just a few more minutes.

She’s barely fallen back asleep when something large and solid lands on top of her, and she buries her head into the pillow, groaning. “Ow, Paige, get off.”

“Get your ass outta bed,” Paige responds, but she is laying across the entire length of Azzi’s body like a warm, nice-smelling weighted blanket, and it only lulls Azzi back to sleep. She thinks about the irony of it, that their roles have switched this morning—usually Azzi is the one who has to drag Paige out of bed.

She’s only half-asleep but she swears she’s started snoring when Paige rolls of her and jabs her in the ribs. “Azzi!”

“No, Paige, please,” Azzi mumbles, throwing an arm over her face. “I’m tired.”

“Well I’m not going to the store by myself,” Paige says stubbornly, tugging on Azzi’s hand. “Come onnn.”

“We’ll go later,” Azzi tries to reason, but Paige won’t have that, pulling on her arm even harder.

“We gotta go now, Lauren’s gonna be here in a couple hours.”

Oh. Right. Paige’s siblings get back from their respective activities this morning, and of course Paige would never reunite with them empty-handed.

“Okay, okay,” Azzi concedes, finally sitting up once again, stretching out her arms. Paige, satisfied that Azzi is up now, gets back out of bed and heads back to the bathroom.

“Get ready fast, I wanna give ourselves plenty of time,” she calls, and Azzi watches her as she washes her face in the sink, rubbing her face aggressively like she always does.

Yawning, Azzi finally gets out of bed, wincing when she finds her neatly packed suitcase next to Paige’s already disorganized one, her clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. “Paige, we need to unpack today.”

Paige pokes her head out of the bathroom and looks down at the mess that is her suitcase, then shrugs. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Azzi says, kneeling down to move her suitcase away from Paige’s before she starts carefully rifling through the outfits she packed. “I dunno what to wear.”

“It’s warm out today,” Paige says, disappearing back into the bathroom. “You pack those lil jean shorts? With the flowers on them?”

“Yeah,” Azzi replies, instantly looking for those. “But my ass hangs out in them.”

There’s silence in the bathroom and Azzi thinks maybe Paige didn’t hear her, but a moment later she’s saying, “Yeah, wear those with your purple tank.”

It may raise her eyebrows, but it also makes her smirk, and Azzi does exactly as Paige says.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them—after successfully sneaking out of the house without running into Paige’s parents—are at the store, tossing anything they think her siblings will like into the basket. A new video game and snacks for Ryan, and some brand-name makeup and flowers for Lauren. (They also get energy drinks, even though Azzi doesn’t think Paige needs it.)

By the time they get back home, they should still have an hour until Lauren gets home—but as soon as they walk through the front door a young, strawberry-blonde girl is barreling into Paige’s arms, squealing.

Paige grunts dramatically, and then hands off the grocery bags to Azzi so she can wrap her arms around her little sister. “Whoa, what you doing home?” she asks, bending down to kiss her hair. “We were supposed to get here before you.”

“I couldn’t wait,” Lauren replies, muffled from where she’s buried in Paige’s chest. “So I came home early but you weren’t even here, and Mom and Dad said they didn’t know where you went to.”

“Sorry, Laur,” Paige responds, rubbing her sister’s back before pulling away. “We were out getting some stuff.”

Lauren waggles her eyebrows. “Gifts?”

“Mm. Maybe.” Paige smiles when Lauren giggles excitedly, and it’s only then that they address Azzi, who is standing somewhat awkwardly, trying to let the two sisters have their moment.

Lauren’s smile falters only a little when she sees Azzi. To her credit, she still sounds cheerful when she says, “Hi, Azzi, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, good to see you too,” Azzi responds, smiling as openly as she can. She’s only met Paige’s siblings a few times—not counting Drew, obviously—and so it’s a little uncomfortable when Lauren goes in for a hug. But this is a twelve-year-old girl, and Azzi is a grown adult, and she welcomes her with open arms, hugging her as well as possible with her groceries still in her arms. Paige takes them back from her after only a second of her struggling.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Azzi comments, because that’s something that you say to kids, right?

It seems to be a good thing to say because Lauren pulls back and beams up at her. “Mom says I’m almost as tall as Paige was at my age.” She looks back at Paige with a proud smile.

Paige grins back, ruffling her hair. “That mean you gonna start playin’ ball?”

“No way,” Lauren replies, playfully vehement. “Ryan keeps saying he wants to try, though.”

“I’ll convince him, for real,” Paige insists, and they all start moving to the kitchen so they can set the grocery bags down.

“Can I see my gift now?” Lauren asks, sliding into a bar stool.

Paige wags a finger at her. “Nuh-uh. We gotta wait for brother.”

Lauren groans dramatically, then giggles at herself and looks curiously at Azzi. “So, is Josh not here, then?”

Beside her, Paige freezes. Azzi glances cautiously at her, and she collects herself quickly, sharing a comforting look with Azzi. “Um,” she says, rounding the island to sit next to Lauren, “did Mom not tell you?”

Lauren wrinkles her eyebrows. “Tell me what?”

That’s enough of an answer, and Paige runs a hand over her face, clearly nervous to have to go through this all over again. It makes Azzi angry, for the millionth time, at her parents—of course they wouldn’t tell her younger siblings. Of course they’d make Paige do it.

“Well, uh,” Paige starts, “yeah, no, Josh isn’t coming. He and I, we actually broke up.”

“Oh.” Lauren frowns. “Sorry. Are you sad about it?”

“No, um, it’s okay. I realized I didn’t like him that much.”

“Why not?” Lauren asks.

“Well, because,” Paige looks to Azzi for help, and all Azzi can do is nod at her. “It’s because he’s a boy.”

Lauren’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she looks down at her lap, then makes eye contact with her little sister, “I mean I don’t really like boys, Laur.”

Lauren stares at her sister, and then she glances at Azzi before looking at the countertop, eyebrows furrowed just like Paige’s do when she’s thinking. “So,” she begins slowly, looking back up to Paige, “you like girls? Like, you like like them?”

“Yeah,” Paige says, and she and Azzi share a look, unsure of where this is going. Azzi hasn’t even noticed until now that she’s holding her breath.

“And you wanna date them?” Lauren clarifies.

“Well, I actually am dating one already,” Paige says, and before she can finish her sentence Lauren looks back at Azzi and she can swear she sees the moment it clicks in her brain.

“So Azzi is your girlfriend?” she says.

Paige hesitates, then says, “Yeah, she is.”

Azzi was expecting a lot of reactions, but Lauren’s bright, proud smile wasn’t one of them. “I guessed!” she hops off her barstool to round the island and give Azzi yet another hug. “So that means I have a new sister!”

Sort of incredulously, Azzi laughs, rubbing the younger girl’s shoulder. Paige blinks once before saying, “That’s not how that works.”

“She’s my in-law now,” Lauren replies with a duh tone, like Paige is slow, and it makes Azzi laugh again.

“No, she’s not your in-law until we get—“ Paige cuts herself off, biting her lip and Azzi stops laughing. Because they’re going to ‘break up’ almost as soon as this trip is over and they can’t get Lauren’s hopes up too much about things like marriage.

Lauren doesn’t seem to notice. She shakes her head firmly. “She’s my sister. I don’t care what you say.” Smiling slyly up at Azzi, she says, “So, cooler older sister,”—Paige gasps, offended—“will you please convince your girlfriend to let me open my gifts now.”

Azzi falters, but then she’s looking over at Paige, who is staring at her little sister with something like awe, and she decides that for now, they should just enjoy the innocent, loving acceptance of 12-year-old girls.

——————————————

By the time Ryan gets home Paige’s parents have joined them in the kitchen, and even though it’s tense with them around, Lauren’s chatter lifts the tension significantly. When the front door opens, Ryan barrels into Paige in a similar fashion as his little sister did, and the three siblings reunite happily, all of them a bundle of teasing and arguing and catching up.

When Ryan catches sight of Azzi, nobody has time to be nervous or hold their breaths because Lauren wraps an arm around her waist and says, “Azzi is here because she’s Paigey’s girlfriend. Say hi.”

Ryan opens his mouth, then closes it, then glances at his parents—who are stubbornly avoiding anybody’s gaze—before looking at his older sister with a questioning expression. Paige nods, and so he turns back to Azzi and says, in classic teenage-boy fashion, “Hey.”

Azzi takes much satisfaction in the way his parents fumble over themselves, apparently shocked that their children are capable of so much more love and acceptance than they are.

After the kids open their gifts, they drag Paige and Azzi upstairs to give them the ‘grand tour’ of their rooms. “Mine has changed,” Lauren says once they arrive at the room across the hallway from Paige’s. “We painted it sage green because the pink was too babyish for me.”

Paige and Azzi nod in agreement.

“And I don’t have my unicorn blanket anymore,” Lauren continues, jumping onto her bed to showcase this fact.

Paige places a hand over her heart. “You got rid of blankie? You love that thing.”

Azzi smiles, knowing that exact feeling—being a big sister and watching your siblings grow up without your permission.

But then Lauren heads to her closet and rummages around inside before pulling out a tattered, pink baby blanket with unicorns sewn into the fabric. “Don’t tell Ryan, but I couldn’t actually get rid of it.”

Paige sighs in relief.

Ryan’s room is dark, lit only by red LED lights, and his bed is unmade. He’s got a PS5 set up in one corner of his room and a desk that looks widely unused in the other. There’s dirty clothes everywhere.

“It’s kinda messy,” he says, carelessly tossing a few clothes off his bed to sit in it, powering up his TV.

“You take after me,” Paige says proudly, and Azzi nudges her in the arm, rolling her eyes. Paige grins at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and Ryan glances away from his TV at them.

“So, you guys are really dating?” he asks.

At the question, the both of them share a nervous glance—does he suspect something? But when Paige says, “Yeah, why?” he replies with a simple, “I figured.”

“Whatchu mean?” Paige asks.

He shrugs nonchalantly, looking back at his TV. “I could tell. Whenever we came to visit you were always texting Azzi or calling Azzi or talking about Azzi. It was all, Azzi this, Azzi that, my name’s Paige and I’m soooo in love with my little Azzi-Wazzi—“

“Yo, okay, bye!” Paige says loudly, going to shove Azzi out of the room, but she keeps her feet planted, amused and so, so curious.

“No, seriously, it was annoying.” Ryan sighs. “I remember the one time we came up and Azzi was staying with you and y’all kept playing footsies under the dinner table. It was gross.”

“We did not!” Paige exclaims as Azzi laughs loudly.

“Did too. And that night you dragged Azzi to your room and I heard you moaning really loud allll night.”

Azzi is cracking up now, and Paige puts her hands on her hips, having given up on trying to drag her away. “Okay, now you’re just making shit up. That’s inappropriate.”

Ryan shrugs again, a slight smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that actually happened, though.”

Paige puts her face in her hands. Azzi looks over at her, grinning widely, and knows it’s her duty to give her shit for this later.

——————————————

During the aforementioned later, while the two of them are getting ready for bed side-by-side in the bathroom, Azzi’s barely even opened her mouth before Paige says, “Don’t.”

The two of them didn’t get a second alone for the rest of the day, because Paige has a little sister and it’s kind of her job to follow them around everywhere and ask annoying questions. Or at least, annoying to Paige. Azzi was more than happy to let Lauren talk her ear off—she’s never had a little sister before.

And besides, she’s used to it considering who her best friend is.

Lunch was spent outside on the porch, soaking in the sun, and it was good because Paige’s parents opted to eat inside. But dinner was awkward, all of them sitting around the table, eating the roast beef Dean had made. Lauren still didn’t seem to pick up on the tension, but Ryan, being a little older, did—apparent in the way he looked curiously between the four adults at the table. He never asked about it, though, and when Paige held Azzi’s hand over the table her parents didn’t say a thing (though Dean looked a bit like he wanted to smack their hands apart) so that’s gotta be a good thing.

Now that they’re finally alone, Azzi is not going to miss out on her opportunity to tease the hell out of her best friend.

“So, you’ve always been a little obsessed with me, huh?” she grins, ignoring Paige’s warning.

Paige rolls her eyes, but Azzi swears her cheeks turn a little pink. “He was making that up.”

“Weird, because I believed him,” Azzi replies, watching as Paige starts brushing her teeth. “Seems like a trustworthy kid.”

“He’sh a fifteen-year-old boy, you can’t trusht none of those,” Paige says around the toothbrush in her mouth.

“Maybe it’s you I can’t trust.”

Paige spits and then gives her an offended look. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Would you?” Azzi teases, and for some reason, it seems to actually make Paige nervous.

She turns away, wiping her mouth on a towel. “‘Course I wouldn’t.”

“Not even if you had a big, fat crush on me?” Azzi says, wish is super unfair because Azzi is the one lying about her big, fat crush, but it feels pretty good to project.

“Bro,” Paige groans, walking into their room, kicking off her basketball shorts on the way.

But Azzi isn’t going to let up. “He seemed pretty serious.”

“He said he heard us moaning,” Paige says, looking around on the floor for a pair of pajamas. (They did not, in fact, unpack today.)

“Okay, he might’ve lied about that,” Azzi admits. She watches, amused, as Paige mumbles to herself while pulling on a pair of PJ pants before she pulls her shirt over her head. “What’re you getting all nervous for?”

“You’re teaming up with my brother,” Paige replies, flopping onto her side of the bed.

“You apparently talk about me 24/7,” Azzi counters.

“Talked,” Paige immediately corrects, and when she sees the triumphant grin on Azzi’s face, she backtracks. “I mean, I didn’t! Obviously I didn’t, that’d be weird.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, “super weird.”

“And I’on even think about you like that, you’re my best friend.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not even my type, for real.”

“Uh-huh.” A week ago, maybe even yesterday, that sentence would’ve been a dagger straight through Azzi’s heart, a harsh reminder of her unreciprocated feelings. But Paige says it like she’s trying to convince herself, and she’s clearly all flustered, her cheeks very evidently pink now, and Azzi wonders—

Slowly, she makes eye contact with Paige, unbuttons her little jean shorts, and shimmies out of them.

Paige averts her gaze, reaching onto the bedside table to take a drink of water.

Interesting. Taking it a little further, Azzi turns away from Paige and pulls her shirt off, letting Paige know two things at once: one, she is wearing a thong, and two, she has not had a bra on all day.

Behind her, a coughing fit starts and she can hear Paige thumping at her chest while her water goes down the wrong pipe.

She grins to herself, sauntering into the bathroom. “Imma take a shower. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” And without a glance behind her, she closes the door.

Pressing her ear to it, she can hear Paige mumbling to herself. She can’t make out exactly what she’s saying, but she does make out a few strings of curse words.

Well. What an interesting development this is.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

[fandom-lover2]

Hope To Stay A While, Just Till The Rain Stops

Chapter Eight - Changes

-image not mine-

Chapter Seven - This Is Why We Need Paper Maps

Chapter Nine - Locked Down

“No, you’re just an asshole who uses being dead as an excuse to be a douche.”

In my ear, Jason laughed. “Nuh uh, it’s a trauma response.”

I slipped my key into the lock, twisting and pushing the door handle down. “Being an ass is a trauma response? Dick says you were always this way.”

“His words can’t be taken as truth. He wasn’t even around when I was robin.”

I intended to say something back, but froze.

There, sitting on our sofa, was my mother’s ex-husband. And surrounding him, boxes.

“Hey, Kid? You there?” Jason called.

“Yeah. Just got up. Gotta go.” I hung up before he could say anything else, removing the airpod from my ear. “Da-“

I cut myself off. He wasn’t my dad. And we both knew it.

But what the hell was he doing here? And why were there boxes everywhere?

The man looked at me, with hollow, uncaring eyes. He didn’t even attempt to act as though he cared.

And then Mom came breezing in from the kitchen, smiling. “Hey. Just in time.”

For what?

I glanced around the apartment, noticing that the boxes weren’t for unpacking, but packing.

We were moving?

Away? From Bruce.

“What the hell?” I demanded.

She dropped the false positivity. “We’ve decided to give our relationship another try.”

 My knees almost buckled, my eyes bulging. “What? That’s ridiculous. He cheated on you. You cheated on him!”

“Which is why you aren’t coming.”

All other points I had about why this was the worst fucking decision my mother had ever had ended the moment his words reached my brain. “What?”

My mom sighed, moving to sit on the arm of the sofa, looking at me with an unreadable expression. “I love him. Always have. And we recently reconnected and decided to give this another shot. But you are not his, and Michael does not want you moving with us.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on me, the icy liquid slapping me in the face and stealing my breath.

She was abandoning me. Just like he had. Just like he’d done to her.

Despite the shock, my thoughts flowed clearly. It was just my body that seemed frozen.

“Was that why you brought us here? So I’d meet Bruce? Was that the only reason?”

This hadn’t been about letting me learn the truth, or gaining a relationship with my real father. Hell, my thoughts had barely been a consideration.

It was so she could leave me with a clear conscious.

“Oh, stop it. I’m a good mother. I could have kicked you out with nowhere to go.”

“Good mother?” I repeated, feeling my vision tunnel, my ears ring.

This is what she considered good parenting?

I turned, numb, and left the apartment.

I had sensed something coming for a long time now. She’d grown distant, even when we shared a dining room table.

She stopped making conversation, stopped looking at me. I assumed she was just mad I’d been spending more time with Bruce and constantly speaking about him even when I was with her.

I had thought it was what she wanted. To know I was happy and felt accepted by my real father. But no, she was pulling away.

She was getting ready to leave me.

I stood outside the apartment door for a while, not sure what to do.

I couldn’t go back in there and face her, even if she agreed to let me stay the night.

I hated her, and I wanted to get as far away from her as I could.

I pulled out my phone, tears blurring my vision as I pulled up my contacts and hit Jason’s.

He’d be on his way to whichever safe house he was choosing for the night. Hopefully he’d be able to turn around and be back soon.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce answered on the first ring.

I pulled my phone back, seeing I’d hit the wrong contact.

“I meant to call Jason.” I mumbled back, my brain lagging behind.

“Y/n, what is wrong?”

“Mr Wayne?” someone called, and I heard my father grunt to them as it sounded like he was walking away.

“Are you in a meeting?”

“Doesn’t matter. What’s wrong?” He sounded weird, voice tight and tense. And I could hear him hurrying, wherever he was walking to.

I started walking, because that seemed like the thing to do. I readjusted my backpack on my shoulder and began down the steps of the apartment.

“She’s leaving me here.”

I heard him stop, followed by a couple seconds of silence. “What?”

“My mom’s moving back in with Michael. She’s leaving me here.”

It was quiet on his end for a second more, before I heard him walking again.

“Dad?” I whispered, the wobble in my voice evident that I was now crying, even if I hadn’t acknowledged it yet.

“Yeah, Baby girl?”

“Can you come get me?” I sniffed, making it to the first floor and pausing in the lobby.

“I’m already in the car. I’ll be there soon. Five minutes. Wait for me in the lobby, ok? Don’t go outside.”

“Ok.”

It was silent for a few seconds, neither of us speaking. I sniffed, wiping away the hot tears that rolled down my cheeks.

“Want me to stay on the phone?”

I nodded, and then realized he couldn’t see that and whimpered a “Yes.”

We didn’t talk, but I heard the car peeling out of the garage, and his occasional grunts at the traffic.

He counted down the minutes, four. Three. Two. One.

I heard the car before I saw it, the sound of a fancy engine echoing off the surrounding buildings.

I charged out the lobby, him barely making it out the car before I threw myself into him. Finally in the arms of my dad, I sobbed.

I didn’t even know why I was crying. It wasn’t as if my mom and I had ever been particularly close. And if anything, I was gaining a hell of a lot more than I was losing.

Bruce shushed me gently, rocking us back and forth as he cradled my head close to his chest, moving us out of the way of passing civilians.

“Can we go home?” I sniffled, still very much crying.

Bruce ducked his head to drop a kiss to the top of my head. “Yeah, baby. Let’s get you home.”

He moved me to his passenger seat, buckling me in and hurriedly sending a text before starting up the car and pulling into the street.

I leaned my head against the window, the building passing overhead, the tears slowing. By the time we were out the concrete jungle, they had dried up completely. Still, I kept my head turned away, eyes not taking in the world passing by.

“I didn’t get to pack anything.” I mumbled.

Bruce squeezed the hand he had been holding the whole time. “I’ll sort it out.”

A motorbike pulled up alongside us, and I thought it would pass, until I looked up and found Jason looking over at me.

I didn’t need to have x ray vision to see the frown that was hidden beneath the helmet.

He stayed beside us the whole drive to the manor, Alfred greeting us as we pulled up to the front door.

It had started to rain.

Bruce didn’t bother to wait for an umbrella, greeting Alfred at the passenger door and helping me out. My father kept his arm wrapped around me as he guided me inside.

He and Alfred talked, and someone scolded Jason for walking in while dripping water before my dad led me through to the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling me into him.

I curled into his side, my face burying in his damp chest once again. Wet from both my tears and the rain.

He squeezed me tight, kissing my hair line. “I got you, baby girl. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I stayed like that a while, not crying but not ok either. I felt empty, lost. Confused.

“What’s her problem?” Damian entered the room, arms crossed and rolling his eyes at my position.

“Damian!” Bruce barked. “Not now.”

My brother’s brows raised and then narrowed when he realized I wasn’t even acknowledging him.

He said something in Arabic, and Bruce replied.

Slowly, like a cat, me approached the sofa we were curled on and sat. Not close enough to touch, but he was there.

Jason stormed in a while later, Dick practically stumbling in after him.

Dick knocked Jason aside, kneeling before Bruce and I and not giving Bruce an option as he pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on my head as I settled in his lap.

“Don’t make her sit on the floor.” Damian snarked, as he moved to sit beside us, his back resting against the sofa.

“You doing ok, sweetheart?”

“That’s a stupid question.” Jason drawled, moving to sit on the other side of Dick.

Now we were four out of five siblings all piled on the floor despite five good sofas around us and a father seated on the largest one.

“Better now that I’m here with you guys.” I replied honestly, relaxing into my oldest brother’s hold.

No one said anything for a long while, only the rain and thunder filling the room. We didn’t need to say much.

It hurt, and probably would for a while, but I wasn’t alone. And I was a hell of a lot better off here than with her anyway. That’s what I’d keep telling myself, til the hurting stopped.

Tim came in a good hour later, finding us still sitting on the floor playing Uno. Bruce was surprisingly competitive, and not above cheating.

“Oh so I have to sit in meetings and you guys are here playing games.” he snarked, moving to join our circle as Dick delt in him.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to call him out.”

Tim reached over to place a hand on my knee. “As long as you’re ok. That’s all that matters.”

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, big bro.”

Five minutes later, Alfred saved us from a pillow fight, started by Jason, after we finally got evidence that Bruce had been cheating.

“Dinner is served.” he called, monotonous, and left the room with a sigh.

Dick, who was crouched over me, hit me twice more with the pillow before standing and hauling me up. “How ya feeling?”

I had laughed so hard I was wheezing, my stomach aching and cheeks burning from smiling so damn much. “Better.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and threw the pillow at the back of Damian’s head.

The force he put behind the throw, plus my youngest brother being distracted arguing with Tim, and the kid face planting with a loud thud.

“Dick!” Bruce snapped, but he didn’t move to Damian’s aid.

A second later, the child rose like a resurrected demon and charged, vengeance in his eyes.

Dick took the chase out the room, Tim shaking his head as he continued to full Bruce in on the meeting he’d missed.  

Jason slid up beside me, tilting his head to the side to look me in the eye. “Sure you doing ok?”

I smiled up at him. “I got something way better here. I don’t need her anymore.” I repeated my mantra.

He nodded, almost like he didn’t believe me, but accepted my answer and walked with me to the dining room.

---

“Once upon a time,” he started.

“Oh my god, please get out.”

My bed was, as we discovered, somehow large enough to hold 4 men and me. We also discovered it could not comfortably do so.

So, we ended up in Bruce’s bed.

Yes, all four of us.

Alfred sat at the desk in the corner of the room, reading a book.

I didn’t even know what we were doing in my bed to begin with, or why Dick had thrown me over his shoulder and dragged us all here, but here we were.

“Don’t you people have places to be?” I asked, being the only one in pajamas.

Tim hummed, typing on his phone.

“So go do that.” I grunted, trying to push Dick off me. Why was I the only one getting squashed by him today? Didn’t he have other people to smother?

Bruce sighed. “She had a point.” But he didn’t make a move to stand.

“Since you arrived, we have skipped many patrols.” Damian chimed, Alfred the Cat purring away on his lap.

“Well now I just feel sorry for Gotham.” I tried to wiggle free again, finding I was sufficiently trapped. “Dude, what do you eat?”

“Cereal, mostly.” Dick replied, flinching when Alfred the Human cleared his throat pointedly.

“As I was saying,” Bruce started again, contently resting against his headboard, Tim’s head on his chest. “Once upon a time-”

“Five brave knights ventured into the darkness and left the princess alone. Good story, now fuck off.”

I didn’t want them to leave, but the more I fought and whined, the closer they attached themselves.

But they would have to leave soon. Night had fallen and the city needed Batman and his robins.

And so, twenty minutes later I was standing in the cave, waving them off as they sped out on their various vehicles, off to save the world.

“My dear, I know you are probably tired, but may you indulge me in some company over a cup of tea?” my grandfather requested, guiding me upstairs.

“I would be delighted to.”

A short while later, I was settled on the sofa once again, this time in his personal room.

It smelled like him. Like lavender, and fresh laundry, with a hint of oak.

“So, tell me my dear, how are you? Really?”

I took a deep breath, having a sip of tea a moment later to give me a second more to stall.

“I’m sad. And I’ll miss her. But she hasn’t been the woman who raised me for a long while. I think a part of me always knew this might happen. That one day she too would leave. I just didn’t see it happening with Michael.”

Alfred was quiet a while, frowning at the unlit fireplace and taking sips of tea before looking to me again. “You won’t be alone here. No one will leave you.”

Fresh tears stung my eyes, and I nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

And somehow, I did know.

My whole life had been about people abandoning me, leaving me behind for something better. I had come to expect it these days.

But here, in this home, with these people, I knew I didn’t need to worry about that. They’d be there, always.

Alfred opened his mouth, but the lights cutting out took what words he was going to say.

I was washed in darkness, eyes unadjusted.

“Alfred?”

“The generator hasn’t turned on.” he replied, with the same gravity as telling someone they were heading for the edge of a cliff.

I heard him move, his teacup placed down as he stood and began around his room. I blinked when he turned on a flash light, heading back to me.

“Take this.”

And then he moved to the chest at the end of his bed and opened it, pulling out a shotgun and loading it.

This wasn’t just a blackout. “Why do you need that?”

“You are going to stay behind me, and we’re going to go to the Cave, alright?”

“Alfred, I-”

He made his way to me, dropping to a knee to use one hand to cup my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I know you’re scared. But I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I wish we could barricade in here until the boys get back, but the Cave will be safer. Do you understand?”

I nodded, not hearing a word he said, but I knew that look in his eyes. I trusted it, him.

“Good.” He took my teacup from me and placed it down, then took my hand and pulled me up, making me fist the back of his shirt and beginning out the room.

We crept through the manor, my heartbeat pounding in my ears so loud I couldn’t hear anything, not even Alfred’s steady whispers.

I jumped at every flash of lightning, the bolts of electricity casting shadows on the walls.

We had been so close, almost to the secret entrance, when people jumped from the shadows.

Alfred fired without mercy, killing two before they managed to get close enough to force him into hand-to-hand combat.

They had swords. My grandfather didn’t.

“Alfred!”

“Cave! Go!” he ordered, seeming to be handling himself well enough, despite no weapon.

I darted for the secret door, somehow getting the code right first try even though my fingers shook so much.

I waited at the door for a second, waiting for Alfred, but he’d taken the fight out the room, down the hall. I had to go alone.

Making sure the door locked behind me, I raced down the stairs and charged for the computer.

The Cave must’ve had a separate power source, cause all the lights were still on.

I skidded to a stop at the controls and hit the comms. “Dad! Dad, the power went out and Alfred needs help!”

“I got the alert. We’re on our way. Just stay there and-”

I didn’t hear what the rest of what my dad said, something pricking the side of my neck. Before I had the chance to look, white hot liquid was injected into me.

My eyes fluttered, my legs going jelly.

“Y/n? Y/n!” my father’s voice boomed over the speakers, but my eyes closed and the world went silent, a pair of arms catching me as I fell.

When I opened my eyes again, I was on a bed and standing at a window, a tall, tanned man.

He turned to me and smiled. “Welcome to the League of Assassins.”

[pbaz7]

It’ll Always Be Her Chapter 18

AN: Well that game was something. In all honesty it wasn’t completely terrible and Paige did what she could with what she was given but I really wish we would stop over helping and leaving shooters open ✨. Anywho here’s the next chapter to brighten the mood around here. Let me know what you think and leave comments or live reactions if you can. Only one more chapter after this

Word Count: 6.2k

The day had finally arrived. UConn was set to face South Carolina in the NCAA Championship—a showdown the entire country had been anticipating. Up in their hotel room, Paige and Azzi were getting ready in their usual contrasting styles. Azzi stuck to her serious game-day routine, meticulously going through her steps to prepare. Paige, on the other hand, was her usual goofy self, bouncing around the room and yapping Azzi’s ear off about random things that would barely make sense to anyone not named Azzi who knew the blonde like the back of her hand.

"Okay, but hear me out," Paige began, lying upside down on the bed, legs propped up against the headboard. "What if I started wearing sunglasses on the court? Would that count as a performance enhancer? Like, would the refs freak out, or would they just assume I’m too cool to care?"

Azzi popped her head out of the bathroom, her expression one of amused disbelief. “Paige, you can barely see the basket as it is without your contacts. Add sunglasses, and we’d lose by thirty and you’d play the worst game of your life.”

“Rude,” Paige shot back, rolling onto her stomach. “But think about the drip, babe. The aesthetic. The world wouldn’t be ready.”

Azzi disappeared back into the bathroom, muttering, “The world isn’t ever ready for your antics, that’s for sure.”

Paige grinned, hopping off the bed and trailing into the bathroom doorway. “Speaking of antics, I was thinking—TikTok time! We haven’t blessed the fans in a minute.”

Azzi groaned audibly, stepping out with a towel draped around her neck. “Paige, we’re about to play the biggest game of our lives. I don’t think TikTok is on the priority list.”

“But that’s exactly why we should do it!” Paige countered, her voice rising with excitement. “Last UConn game day. Gotta give the people what they want!”

Azzi paused to unpack her suitcase, carefully placing items back in their designated spots. “The people want a championship, not a dance video,” she said dryly, not even looking up at her being so used to the girls' antics.

Paige pouted, pulling out her secret weapon: wide, puppy-dog blue eyes that Azzi could never say no to. “Please?” she pleaded, her voice soft and sugary. “Just one? For me? I promise I’ll stop bothering you for the rest of the day.”

Azzi glanced up briefly, then sighed, shaking her head. “You’re a liar. You’re definitely going to bother me again.”

“Okay, maybe,” Paige admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’ll try really hard not to.”

Azzi shook her head, a small laugh escaping despite herself. “You’re impossible. Fine. After we’re ready.”

“Yessss!” Paige celebrated before darting off to finish getting dressed, leaving Azzi to shake her head in fond exasperation.

Once they were both ready, Paige eagerly dragged Azzi into the TikTok operation. It took some time, mostly because Paige kept breaking out into giggles whenever they messed up the moves, and Azzi—ever the perfectionist—insisted they start over until they got it just right.

“Paige, focus!” Azzi said, trying to stifle her own laughter as Paige flopped onto the bed mid-dance. “We are never going to finish this.”

“I am focusing!” Paige argued through her giggles. “It’s not my fault your serious face is hilarious. You look like you’re plotting world domination.”

Azzi crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want this TikTok, or do you want me to pack my bag and leave you here?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll behave,” Paige said, standing up and saluting. “Captain Serious, reporting for duty.”

Eventually, they nailed the routine, with Paige cheering triumphantly as she hit the post button on Azzi’s TikTok account—a rare move, given how private Azzi usually was online. They captioned it simply: “Last UConn game day.”

The comments came pouring in almost immediately. Paige leaned over Azzi’s shoulder, reading them out loud while Azzi scrolled.

“‘Omg, queens blessing us before the game 😭😭,’” Paige read in a dramatic voice. “‘Good luck!! Bring that trophy home!!!’” She grinned. “See? They love it. I told you this was a good idea.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “Let’s just hope they’re this excited after we win.”

“They will be,” Paige said confidently, grabbing her bag. “Because we’re awesome. And by ‘we,’ I mean me, obviously.”

Azzi smirked, grabbing her own bag. “Keep talking like that, and I might pass you the ball once tonight.”

“Gee, thanks, MVP,” Paige said with a mock bow as they headed out the door. “Remind me to show you how much I appreciate you later.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head as they made their way toward the team bus. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it,” Paige shot back with a wink, earning another groan from Azzi as they stepped into the hallway.

As the elevator doors slid open, Paige and Azzi stepped out with their security team, immediately greeted by the buzz of a crowd gathered outside the hotel. Fans were lined up along the barricades, yelling their names, holding up posters, and waving phones in hopes of snapping pictures or getting autographs. The energy was electric, but Paige felt the subtle shift in Azzi’s demeanor instantly.

The playful, relaxed Azzi from just minutes ago was gone, replaced with someone more guarded. Paige knew why. Ever since the stalker incident, these moments had been difficult for Azzi. The overwhelming attention wasn’t just part of the job—it was a trigger. Paige, ever attuned to her girlfriend’s moods, reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against Azzi’s back as she tried to gently guide her forward, like she always did.

But this time, Azzi didn’t move. She stood firm, her eyes scanning the crowd as if lost in thought. Paige stopped beside her, lowering her voice. “Azzi, you don’t have to do this. We can head straight to the bus.”

Azzi turned to her, her beautiful brown eyes filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I have to get over this hill eventually,” she said softly, but with conviction. “The fans deserve it.”

Paige studied her for a moment, then nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Alright. But I’m right here, okay?”

Azzi’s lips twitched upward in a faint smile, and together they approached the crowd. The fans erupted as they came closer, the excitement palpable. Paige took the lead, chatting easily with the fans, signing autographs, and taking selfies. All the while, she kept a careful eye on Azzi. At first, Azzi was tense, her movements measured, her smile polite but a little forced. Paige recognized the unease in the way her hand hovered over the sharpie she was holding, hesitating before signing anything.

But as the minutes passed, Azzi started to loosen up. A fan complimented her three-pointer in the last game, and she finally cracked a genuine smile. Another asked for advice on shooting form, and she launched into a quick explanation, her voice steady and confident. Paige watched as the Azzi she knew—the Azzi who loved connecting with people and sharing her passion for the game—slowly emerged from behind her cautious exterior.

It was going smoothly until a group of fans got a little overzealous. A couple of them jostled forward, eager to get Azzi’s attention, and in the commotion, one bumped into her. Azzi stumbled slightly, her balance wavering. Before she could even fully react, Paige was there, wrapping an arm securely around her waist and pulling her close.

“Hey,” Paige said, her voice low and steady as she looked her over. “You okay?”

Azzi blinked, looking up at Paige. Her eyes softened as a grateful smile spread across her face. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you,” she murmured, her voice laced with admiration.

Paige nodded, her hold on Azzi lingering for just a second longer than necessary before she loosened her grip. She offered the fans a calm but firm reminder to be careful, her usually playful tone replaced with quiet authority

Azzi seemed more at ease now, laughing with fans and joking with Paige who easily switched the mood back to playful.

“Alright, who’s ready to see the future champs?” Paige teased, earning a cheer from the fans. She turned to Azzi with a smirk. “That includes you, obviously.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, letting out a small laugh. “Glad to know I made the cut.”

Paige shot her a look. “Barely. Gotta see how you play tonight first.”

The fans around them chuckled, one yelling out, “Don’t listen to her, Azzi! You’re the real MVP!”

Azzi grinned at the comment. “Thank you! At least someone around here appreciates me.” She side-eyed Paige with mock offense, and Paige raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, she may win the MVP,” Paige said loudly, pretending to announce it to the crowd. “But only because I taught her everything she knows.”

Azzi turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really? You’re the one teaching me?”

Paige shrugged, her grin widening. “You’ve seen my highlights.”

Before Azzi could respond, a fan jumped in with a sly smile. “Is this how you two always are? Like, this constant back-and-forth?”

“Pretty much,” Paige said without missing a beat. “I can’t help it. She makes it too easy to.”

“Right, because you’re so much harder to deal with,” Azzi replied dryly, crossing her arms.

A younger fan, barely holding a sign steady, piped up nervously. “You guys are so cute!”

Azzi glanced at Paige, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly, but Paige didn’t skip a beat. “You hear that, Az? I’m cute. Not annoying, cute.”

Azzi shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I think they’re talking about me, not us as a whole. You’re still annoying.”

They continued signing autographs and taking selfies, Paige taking the lead in conversations. She joked with fans about their favorite plays, hyped up UConn’s chances in the game, and teased Azzi at every opportunity.

At one point, a fan handed Azzi a poster with her own face on it. Paige, standing nearby, immediately burst out laughing. “Wow, Az, they even brought your headshot. Is this for motivational purposes or—”

“Unlike you, I’m not obsessed with myself and don’t need extra motivation,” Azzi quipped, cutting her off. “But I’ll sign it anyway.”

As Azzi scribbled her signature, another fan boldly asked, “So, uh...are you guys, like, dating?”

At the fan’s bold question, Azzi paused for a brief moment, glancing at Paige with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Paige caught her gaze, her own smile widening into something mischievous yet soft.

Neither of them said a word.

Instead, Azzi turned her attention back to the poster she was signing, her cheeks faintly tinged with pink, while Paige let out a light chuckle and moved on to the next autograph. The fans around them buzzed with excitement, catching the silent exchange and immediately reading into it.

“Did you see that? They totally just gave each other that look!” one fan whispered loudly to their friend.

“I knew it!” another said, practically bouncing with joy.

Paige, overhearing the comments, glanced up and raised an eyebrow at the fans. “What are you guys whispering about over there?”

“Nothing!” one of them squeaked, clearly lying, which made Azzi smirk as she handed back the signed poster.

“Uh-huh,” Paige said, her tone playful as she moved to take a selfie with a group of fans.

After a little more time they made their way to the bus. As they waited for the rest of the team to join them, Paige leaned against the side of the vehicle, her eyes still on Azzi. “You handled that like a pro,” she said with a grin. “Proud of you.”

Azzi tilted her head, her expression soft. “I had a good safety net,” she replied, her voice warm. Paige smirked, nudging her shoulder playfully, but inside, she was beaming.

As they finally stepped onto the bus once everyone was there, the buzzing energy from the fans still lingered in the air. Azzi and Paige settled into their usual seats, a comfortable quiet replacing the chaos of earlier. Paige glanced at Azzi, who was already slipping on her headphones, and gave her a small, knowing smile. She resisted the urge to tease her girlfriend for the first time all day, understanding how focused Azzi became as they got closer to game time.

Instead, Paige popped in her own headphones and leaned back into the seat, keeping her energy more subdued. Azzi, letting out a soft breath, leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige didn’t move, letting her rest, her hand casually resting on her knee as the bus rumbled toward the arena.

The surreal weight of the day settled over them both. This was it—their final game in UConn jerseys.

In the locker room, the air was electric, the quiet tension almost palpable. Paige and Azzi sat next to each other as they laced up their sneakers. Paige, ever the goofball, nudged Azzi lightly with her elbow.

“You nervous, superstar?” Paige asked, her voice teasing but soft.

Azzi glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Nope, not as nervous as you should be. You’re the one with all the expectations.” she quipped back, tightening her laces.

Paige smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Please, I was born for moments like this. You, on the other hand…” She let the sentence hang, drawing out a reaction.

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “If you spent half as much time focusing as you do bothering me, we’d already have this game won.”

“Yeah, but then who’d keep you on your toes?” Paige shot back.

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Paige said, grinning.

Azzi didn’t respond, but the warmth in her smile said enough.

When they stepped onto the court for unofficial warm-ups, their usual routine took over. Among the drills and team stretches, Paige and Azzi made time for their tradition—a quick game of one-on-one. It had started as a way to loosen up and get in rhythm, but over the years, it had become their thing.

Today’s match-up was particularly playful, with Paige trying to trash-talk Azzi as she drove to the basket.

“Told you you can’t guard me” Paige teased, sinking a fadeaway jumper.

Azzi smirked, taking the ball and stepping back to the three-point line. “Keep talking. You’re about to regret it.” She drained the shot effortlessly, holding up three fingers as Paige groaned dramatically.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Steph Curry Jr,” Paige said, shaking her head with a laugh. “Save some of that for the actual game.”

Azzi grinned, tossing her the ball. “I don’t need to. I’ve got plenty.”

Their banter drew a few laughs from their teammates, who were used to their antics but still found them entertaining. By the time warm-ups ended, they were both grinning, their energy high and ready for the game.

As they stood in the huddle just before tip-off, Paige gave Azzi a quick pat on the back. “One more,” she said, her voice laced with determination.

Azzi’s gaze hardened with focus, but her lips quirked into a small smile. “One more,” she replied.

And with that, they stepped onto the court, ready to make their final game one to remember.

…

The championship game against South Carolina started with an intensity that promised a battle until the final buzzer. South Carolina’s size and defensive pressure gave them an early edge, forcing UConn into tough shots. On the other end, their star forward dominated in the post, scoring on back-to-back possessions to give South Carolina a quick six-point lead.

But UConn was no stranger to adversity. Paige and Azzi, as they had done all season, answered the call. Paige got things going by splitting a double team and sinking a floater in the lane, drawing a foul in the process. She stepped to the free throw line and sunk the shot, cutting the lead in half.

On the next possession, Azzi picked off a lazy pass, sprinting down the court for an uncontested layup. As she backpedaled on defense, she glanced at Paige, who gave her a pat on the back in approval.

South Carolina responded with a three-pointer, but Paige wasted no time striking back. She dribbled up the court with a defender hounding her, then threw a perfect no-look pass to Azzi in the corner. Azzi caught it in rhythm and drained the shot, sending a ripple of excitement through the UConn bench.

The game became a tug-of-war, with neither team able to establish dominance. South Carolina used their height to crash the boards, earning second-chance points, while UConn relied on quick ball movement and the undeniable chemistry between Paige and Azzi.

Midway through the first half, Paige took over. She drilled two deep threes in a row, the second coming off a screen set by Azzi. On the next possession, Paige returned the favor, threading a bounce pass through traffic to Azzi, who finished with a reverse layup that drew gasps from the crowd.

South Carolina adjusted their defense, throwing double teams at Paige and switching on Azzi to limit her opportunities. But the two stars adapted just as quickly, finding ways to free each other up. When Paige was trapped, Azzi slipped into open spaces for quick jumpers. When Azzi was blanketed on the perimeter, Paige drove to the hoop, forcing defenders to collapse and creating openings elsewhere.

By halftime, Paige had 22 points on an array of dazzling plays, including a transition three that left her defender stumbling. Azzi added 14 points, most of which came off assists from Paige. Despite their heroics, South Carolina’s relentless play and physicality gave them a 46-43 lead heading into the break.

As the UConn players headed to the locker room, their faces were a mix of determination and exhaustion. The crowd, buzzing with anticipation, knew the second half would be just as thrilling.

Inside the locker room, the tension was palpable. Players stretched, drank water, and wiped sweat from their faces as they prepared for Geno’s halftime speech. But before he entered, Paige found Azzi sitting at her locker, adjusting her shoe.

“They’re crowding you up top every time,” Paige said, sitting next to her. “Let’s hit them with those back cuts we talked about. I’ll find you.”

Azzi gave her a knowing smile. “And if they collapse, I’ll kick it back out. You’ll be open.”

Paige bumped her shoulder lightly. “Classic two-for-one special.”

Azzi laughed softly as Geno walked in

The second half began with the same ferocity as the first. South Carolina continued to dominate the boards, their bigs muscling through traffic for contested putbacks. But UConn’s pace and precision kept them in the game. Paige opened the half with a step-back three that sent the arena into a frenzy, followed by Azzi cutting behind her defender for an easy layup.

Each possession felt like a battle in itself, with the lead shifting multiple times. South Carolina’s star guard hit a clutch jumper to give them a brief advantage, only for Paige to answer with a quick crossover and a pull-up jumper.

By the final minute, the score was tied at 87-87, both teams trading blows like heavyweight fighters. The tension was almost unbearable as UConn had possession and called a timeout with 5.6 seconds left on the clock.

Geno grabbed his clipboard and began to draw up a play. “Here’s the plan. Paige, you’ll take the ball out. Pass it in to KK, and then get it right back. South Carolina’s going to double you, no doubt about it. That’s where Azzi comes in.” He pointed to the baseline. “Azzi you’re going to fake ball side but you’re coming off a screen on the backside baseline. If we do it right they’ll get stuck and be too many steps behind. As soon as Paige gets doubled, she’ll find you. Quick release. Game over. Simple” Geno describes the play as if it’s the easiest thing in the world as he has complete faith in the two girls who’ve led the team all season.

Paige and Azzi exchanged a glance, their confidence in each other unshakable. This was the kind of moment they had trained for thousands of times. All the time they spent in the gym together passing to each other, making up scenarios, all for this moment they dreamed about.

The players broke the huddle and took their positions. The arena was deafening, the crowd on their feet, the tension so thick it felt like time had slowed. Paige stood on the sideline, the ball in her hands, her face calm but determined.

The referee blew the whistle, and the play began. Paige passed the ball in to KK, then darted to the wing. As Geno predicted, the double team came immediately when she got the ball back, two defenders swarming her. But Paige didn’t panic. She knew where Azzi would be—she always did.

On the opposite side of the court, Azzi cut hard off a baseline screen from Ice, her defender trailing just a couple of steps too late. Paige spotted her, their connection automatic, and fired a perfect pass.

The ball sailed through the air in what felt like slow motion. Azzi caught it in stride, her feet set behind the three-point line. Without hesitation, she rose up for the shot. Her release was quick, smooth, and precise.

The ball arced high, the crowd holding their breath. It swished through the net without touching the rim.

The buzzer sounded. UConn had won.

As the ball swished through the net and the buzzer sounded, the entire arena erupted in cheers. Azzi stood frozen for a moment, her mind still processing what had just happened. They had won. The NCAA Championship was theirs. But before she could fully take in the moment, she felt a body collide with hers, Paige running toward her at full speed.

Without a second thought, Azzi’s arms went around Paige, who pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground for a brief, euphoric moment. The crowd roared around them, but all Azzi could focus on was the weight of Paige's arms around her, the feel of her steady heartbeat against her chest.

“WE DID IT!” Paige shouted, her voice muffled slightly as she buried her face in Azzi's shoulder.

Before either of them could process much more, the rest of the UConn team was pouring onto the court. They huddled together in a jumble of players, screaming, jumping, and celebrating, all of them caught up in the emotion of the championship win. Azzi’s heart was racing, but there was no time to catch her breath—there was still the handshake line ahead.

Paige, always the leader, was the first to move toward the line, her infectious smile lighting up her face. Azzi followed, her heart swelling with pride as she watched Paige lead her team with such confidence and grace.

After the final handshake, Paige immediately found Azzi and pulled her into another hug. This time, they both held on a little longer, savoring the moment of the win and everything it meant. Azzi melted into the embrace, her heart racing as she buried her face in Paige’s shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” Paige whispered, her voice full of pride.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, smiling in that soft, quiet way that always made Paige’s heart skip a beat. “Yeah, right. You’re the superstar here.”

Paige chuckled, brushing her hand gently on Azzi’s face. “Nope we’re a team, remember?”

Azzi smiled, her eyes full of love as she whispered, “I love you.”

Paige’s eyes softened. “I love you too.”

Just as they were about to pull away, the entire team surrounded them, pouring water on both of them in celebration. Azzi laughed, shaking her head as the cool water drenched her, but she didn’t mind. This was their moment, and she couldn’t have been happier to share it with Paige.

…

After some time celebrating on the court, the team finally began to settle into the moment. Hats and championship shirts were handed out, each player eagerly pulling them on over their jerseys. They posed for pictures and cheered, and the energy remained electric. When the stage was ready, the announcers ushered the team forward, and the crowd roared as the official ceremonies began.

After a few words honoring their incredible season, the team was presented with the championship trophy. The players exchanged glances, everyone hesitating for a moment—until Ice, KK, and a few others practically shoved Azzi forward to claim it. Azzi stumbled slightly, laughing nervously as she walked up to receive the trophy. She held it up high for the crowd, her usual serious demeanor softening as her teammates cheered loudly behind her.

Shortly after, the announcer called Paige’s name as the tournaments Most Valuable Player, listing her impressive stat line that night: 37 points, 8 rebounds, and 7 assists. The arena erupted once again as Paige stepped forward, a mix of joy and humility written across her face. She accepted the MVP trophy, glancing back at her team as they clapped and hollered for her some even throwing confetti that they collected in their hats.

Paige raised the mic and spoke with her usual poise. “Thank you,” she started, her voice clear but humble. “This is a huge honor, but I want to make it clear—I couldn’t have done any of this without my team. Every single person here contributed to this win and this season. We did this together.” She paused, smiling at the group behind her before continuing. “And I want to shout out Azzi specifically. She was incredible tonight, just like she’s been all year after battling back from tough injuries. I’m extremely lucky to play with someone as amazing as her.”

The team whooped loudly, laughing as Azzi groaned and buried her face in her hands. Paige grinned at her reaction before finishing, “Thank you all for the support, and let’s celebrate together Husky nation!”

The crowd cheered, and as the announcer handed the mic to Geno, Paige stepped off to the side. She immediately made her way over to Azzi, the MVP trophy still clutched in her hands. Azzi, already shaking her head, started to back away playfully.

“Nope,” Azzi said firmly as Paige held the trophy out to her.

“Come on, Az,” Paige teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You deserve this as much as I do.”

Azzi crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You know that’s not true. You earned this. Ms.Thirty-seven points. Don’t even try.”

Paige shrugged dramatically, still holding the trophy between them. “Fine, but I’m letting you get the next one,” she said with a sly grin.

Azzi smirked, tilting her head. “Oh, you’re letting me win now?” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Paige chuckled, nudging her lightly with her shoulder. “I’ll give you a head start.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head as the playful banter between them faded into the background of the ongoing celebration.

…

The atmosphere was electric, a mix of celebratory chaos and genuine happiness. Paige, now a little more than tipsy, had stationed herself next to Azzi at the bar, fully committing to her self-assigned mission of making Azzi blush. Azzi, who had only had one drink, was clearly enjoying Paige’s antics, though she tried to maintain her usual composed demeanor.

“Okay, okay,” Paige started, holding her hands up like she was about to say something profound. “How about this one, Az? If beauty were time, you’d be eternity.”

Azzi snorted mid-sip, nearly choking on her second drink. “Are you Googling these? Be honest.”

“Nope.” Paige tapped her temple with a sly grin. “All me. Original content.”

So, Az,” Paige began again, leaning closer and resting her chin on her hand. “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’ve used that one before. Try harder.”

“Alright, alright,” Paige said, straightening up like she was about to deliver something groundbreaking. “If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.”

Azzi groaned, shaking her head as laughter bubbled out of her. “That one’s worse.”

Paige smirked, undeterred. “You’re laughing, though. Admit it—I’m charming.”

“Charming? Sure,” Azzi teased, taking another sip. “But I think the alcohol is doing most of the work.”

“I don’t need help to be charming,” Paige shot back, gesturing dramatically before leaning closer to Azzi again. “But if you think this is bad, wait ‘til I really start trying.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “This isn’t you trying?”

“Not even close,” Paige replied with a confident grin.

Azzi doubled over, her laughter drawing the attention of their teammates nearby. KK and Ice walked over, clearly amused.

“Paige, are you seriously trying to pick up Azzi right now?” KK asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replied innocently. “I’m just admiring the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“Uh-huh,” Ice said, smirking. “How many drinks have you had, P?”

“Not enough,” Paige shot back, grinning as she leaned into Azzi again. “So...do I have a chance, or are you out of my league?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Definitely out of your league.”

The team erupted into laughter, the lighthearted banter filling the air. Paige pretended to be wounded, clutching her chest dramatically. “Ouch, Az! That’s cold.”

“Don’t worry,” Azzi replied with a smirk. “I like a a good challenge.”

Aubrey who was on TikTok live sauntered over with her phone. She panned the camera to Ice and a few other teammates who cheered. Then she moved to Paige and Azzi. Paige immediately straightened up, leaning into the frame with an exaggerated smile.

“Hellooo, internet!” Paige said, waving dramatically. “Your favorite champs reporting live.”

Azzi shook her head, already sensing where this was going. “Don’t let her talk too much,” she warned Aubrey.

The live chat exploded with comments as KK laughed, reading them out loud. “Oh, they’re already asking about y’all. ‘Paige and Azzi look so good together.’ Pazzi confirmed?’”

Paige leaned closer to read the screen, squinting slightly. “Pazzi? That’s… creative,” she said, clearly a little slower than usual as she casually addressed her and Azzi’s rumored relationship.

Azzi chuckled. “She’s not drunk, I promise,” she said, addressing the camera before turning to Paige. “Right?”

“I’m not drunk,” Paige insisted, pointing at Azzi. “But you’re dodging the important questions.”

“Oh, yeah? What questions?” Azzi asked, humoring her.

“Like… how do you look this good after playing 40 minutes?” Paige said, her tone teasing but genuinely impressed.

KK groaned, dramatically tilting Aubrey’s phone away before bringing it right back. “Y’all are too much.”

Azzi laughed as Paige blinked at the phone, trying to think of a comeback. Before she could, a fan comment caught her attention.

“‘Who’s the better shooter?’” Paige read out loud, turning to Azzi. “Obviously me, right?”

Azzi smirked. “Yeah, if we’re talking about shots you’ve taken in the bar. On the court? Me, all day.”

The team burst into laughter, Ice shouting, “She got you, P!”

Paige, undeterred, grinned and pointed at the camera. “Alright, internet, I’m gonna remember this moment when I outshoot her in our next game together.”

“Sure you will,” Azzi said, still smiling as she reached over and gently covered Paige’s mouth not wanting her to say anything about Golden State. “And on that note, we’re taking a break from the live.” She pulled Paige slightly out of frame, ignoring Paige’s muffled protests.

The celebration continued, with Paige and Azzi rejoining the team. Drinks flowed, the music thumped, and the energy only grew as more fans and family filtered into the space. Paige eventually returned to the bar with Azzi, her tipsiness making her even bolder.

“I’m just saying,” Paige started, leaning against Azzi with a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Oh, yeah?” Azzi asked, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Because otherwise, you’d never survive my charm,” Paige replied with a wink.

Azzi laughed, leaning closer to whisper. “Your charm is dangerous, alright. But not for the reasons you think.”

Their banter was interrupted by KK, still on live and now moving the camera back toward them. “The people want more of Paige and Azzi,” KK said, grinning. “What do y’all have to say to the fans?”

Paige leaned into the frame again, this time draping her arm over Azzi’s shoulders. “Hi, fans,” she said with a dramatic wave. “We love you. Stay hydrated. Be great. Go UConn.”

Azzi, smiling but exasperated, pulled Paige back slightly. “She’s had enough screen time for one night.”

The live chat erupted in protest, flooded with “Noooo, don’t let Paige leave!” and “We need more MVP content!”

Azzi, amused, glanced at the screen. “Oh, the people are rioting.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Guess they’re not ready to say goodbye to you, huh?”

Paige grinned triumphantly, leaning closer to the phone. “See? They love me.”

As Azzi tried to nudge her away, Paige’s eyes locked on a specific comment. She tilted her head, then read aloud with absolutely no filter, “‘Y’all should just kiss already.’”

The room fell into a momentary hush as Paige’s words hung in the air. Realizing what she’d just said, Paige’s eyes widened, and she immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops,” she mumbled, muffled by her fingers.

Azzi stared at her for a beat before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, you’re unbelievable.”

The live chat exploded: “DO IT!!!” “Paige drunk and exposing herself lmao.” “Azzi, please end us with this kiss and we promise we’ll never complain again!”

Paige, her cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and the drinks, dropped her hand and looked sheepishly at Azzi. “Uh… sorry?”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as she turned to face her girlfriend. “You’re a mess,” she said softly, though her tone was warm.

Azzi glanced at the phone in KK’s hand, her eyes narrowing playfully at the sea of messages. She reached out, gently nudging Paige aside, and leaned slightly toward the camera. “This is never happening again on social media, so don’t get used to it.”

Before anyone could react, she turned to Paige, who was still blinking in a mix of tipsy confusion and nervous excitement. Without hesitation, Azzi reached out, cupped Paige’s jaw with a gentle but assured touch, and pulled her into a kiss.

The bar erupted into chaos as cheers, whistles, and laughter filled the room. KK nearly dropped the phone, shouting, “No way! Yo, they really did it!”

The live chat exploded: “OMG THEY ACTUALLY KISSED!!!” “PAZZI IS REAL!!!” “WE WONNNNNNN!”

When Azzi finally pulled back, Paige’s cheeks were flushed, her expression a mix of awe and giddy disbelief. Azzi smirked at her and leaned in close, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear, “That’s for making me deal with all this tonight.”

Paige’s grin spread wide as she stammered, “Totally worth it.”

Azzi straightened, glancing back at the camera. “Alright, now she’s really done for the night.” She waved at KK’s phone with a chuckle. “Bye, internet.” Then, taking Paige’s hand, she tugged her out of frame as the live chat continued to explode.

KK turned the camera back to herself, laughing so hard she could barely speak. “Y’all, you saw it here first! The MVP and Ms. Azzi Fudd. I can’t believe this!”

The team swarmed Azzi and Paige as soon as they returned, cheering loudly and teasing relentlessly. Paige, still tipsy and smiling ear-to-ear, leaned against Azzi, her voice light with laughter. “You really kissed me in front of everyone.”

Azzi smirked, her hand slipping to Paige’s waist to steady her. “I did,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “So let’s go, and you can thank me properly back in the room.”

Paige’s cheeks flushed, though whether it was the drinks, Azzi’s words, or both, she wasn’t sure. Without hesitation, Azzi took her hand, gently pulling her through the crowd.

The team called after them with a mix of cheers and playful jabs. KK’s voice rose above the noise, shouting, “Don’t forget to hydrate, lovebirds!”

Paige turned just enough to stick her tongue out at KK, making the team laugh even harder. Azzi shook her head, her smirk never fading as they made their way outside.

The cool night air hit them as they stepped out of the bar, the sounds of celebration fading behind them. A sleek car pulled up to the curb, its driver stepping out to open the door. Azzi helped Paige in before sliding in after her, the door closing softly behind them.

Paige leaned her head against Azzi’s shoulder, her giggles subsiding into a contented hum. “I can’t believe you kissed me in front of everyone and on live.”

Azzi glanced down at her, her hand finding Paige’s. “I told them it wouldn’t happen again,” she said, her voice warm. “But you? You’re worth it.”

Paige smiled, her fingers lacing with Azzi’s as the car pulled away, leaving the celebration behind.

[homoeroticfisticuffs]

WIP Wednesday - Sambucky Sickfic

Been working on this one on and off for a few weeks now whenever I've had the free time and I keep forgetting to post a WIP!! So here it is finally lol... working title is "There's No Need to Be Brave," from I Will by Mitski :] Once this is finished I'd like it to be maybe closer to/over 10k like the rest of my more recent fics, and I will only be posting the finished version to my AO3 because I just prefer to only post WIPs on here ;w; anyway Sambucky

Word count: 4.1k

He hadn’t even spent two weeks back in Brooklyn before he got the text; not from Sam, no, from Sarah, which made this whole situation all the more hilarious.

“Hey Bucky, I really hate to ask you for yet another favor after all you’ve done for my family, but my stubborn jackass of a brother got himself real sick with a bad cold somehow and I just don’t have the time to take care of both him and the boys. Would you mind maybe coming back down here to stay and watch over him for a bit? I think you’re the only other person he’d let see him like this.”

(The fact that he was actually checking and responding to his texts now was a new development for him, one he was glad Dr. Raynor wasn’t around to see. He really didn’t need to see her sarcastic grin or hear her smug ass voice giving him an “I told you so” or “see how easy it is” or whatever the hell she’d have to say.)

He smirked to himself as he saw Sarah’s text; it was timestamped at 6:47 AM, probably sent out of exasperation while trying to get the boys ready for school and also having to deal with taking care of Sam. The thought of Sam Wilson, the famous Falcon and now the brand new Captain America, lying helpless and miserable in bed was admittedly a little funny. He was probably wrapped up in a bunch of blankets right now with a bulky ice bag sitting atop his head and a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. It really was comical when he thought about it.

“No worries, Sarah. I can come help out.”

He genuinely didn’t mind going back down there to offer his help, and he would have done it either way to help the people he cares about, but he also loved being a little sweet on Sarah because of how mad it made Sam.

He also needed to get out of Brooklyn, as much as he hated it. After offering closure to Yori, things just hadn’t felt the same. It didn’t really feel like home anymore. Part of him wished he could just stay in Louisiana; and maybe he could. The thought wasn’t so bad. 

He sighed for a moment, looking down at his duffle bag that he never really got around to fully unpacking in the first place from his last trip. He could use the travel, really; it’s not like he had any other plans anyway, and it was always a nice treat to visit the Wilsons. Plus, this would give him a lot of ammunition and blackmail to hold over Sam’s head for a good long while. He smiled at the thought of bantering and bickering with him as he packed, looking forward to getting to see him again, though he’d never in a million years admit it out loud.

-

The sun was starting to set over the water in Delacroix, the last few rays of sunlight beaming in through the windows and casting a warm glow over the living room. Sam laid exhausted on the couch, hopelessly flipping through different TV channels in hopes of finding something other than the countless shitty movies and reality shows that litter the guide on the screen. He sighed in defeat before giving up and leaving it on a channel showing a cheesy eighties action flick, tossing the remote aside and curling further into his blanket.

“You feeling any better today?” Sarah asked from the kitchen, starting to cut up some vegetables to prepare dinner for the night: a nice and hearty vegetable stew.

“No,” Sam groaned softly, his voice weak from illness. “If anything, today’s been worse.”

She sighed, and he felt a stab of guilt at the sound. He hated putting all this on her. “Well, we’ve just gotta make sure you’re taking meds at the right times then and try and stay on top of that fever. Plenty of rest and fluids, it’ll be gone in no time. Can’t keep Captain America down for too long.”

He chuckled, knowing she was giving him shit for his new title. It was still taking some time for everyone to get used to, especially himself. No one had exactly seen it coming. 

He hated this, all of it. He hated feeling this sick and miserable, and he hated being so useless and unable to help Sarah out around the house and with the boys. He knew she managed just fine on her own in the years that he was gone, but part of him will always feel a need to help and protect her whenever he can. She had gotten used to having him around lately, and had shared some of her responsibilities with him so that she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with the workload. Now that he was unable to help take some of that weight off her shoulders, she’s been a lot more noticeably stressed out since he got sick.

His phone rang then, and he lifted it to see that it was Joaquin video calling him. He reluctantly hit the accept button; not because he didn’t enjoy talking to Joaquin, just that it was a little difficult to talk at all in his current state.

“Hey man!” Joaquin greeted him through the phone. “Oh, shit, you don’t look so good. You alright?”

“Yeah, just got a cold,” Sam responded quietly. It hurt his throat a little to speak, but he was fairly sure he could handle a brief phone call for now. “What’s up?”

“I was just checking in to say hey. You mentioned not feeling so hot so I just wanted to see how you were doing. Anything I can do to help? I could DoorDash you some soup or medicine or something.”

It earned a good laugh from Sam, possibly being the only real smile he had cracked yet today. “Nah, man, I’m alright. I doubt any sane Dasher would come this far out, anyways.”

“Well, offer’s still on the table if you end up changing your mind,” Joaquin said earnestly. “I’ll let you go for now, though. Rest up buddy, and take care! I’ll be thinking of you. Hope you heal up fast!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam replied, exhaustion clear in his voice. He was on day three of the cold now, with no sign of it improving. He was starting to get really tired of it. “I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for checking in.”

“No problem, man. And seriously, rest up, you sound like shit,” Joaquin laughed. “Okay bye, talk soon.”

“Seeya.”

Once the call had ended, Sam finally let out a couple of coughs that he had been holding in and took a big long sip of his water; engaging that much in a conversation, even if it was short, had rendered him a little worse off than he was before he took the call. Saying a couple short sentences a day was one thing, but his throat was seriously sore, and he sounded absolutely miserable with how nasally his voice was from being so congested. He let out a deep sigh before unwrapping yet another cough drop and tossing it in his mouth, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch.

Suddenly Sam heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching the house. He was a little too fatigued and feverish to connect the dots immediately, but he lifted his head and squinted his eyes at Sarah in confusion, wondering who or what the hell it could be before it finally clicked in his head after a few too many moments.

“You didn’t,” he said around the cough drop, unable to believe what he thought might have happened without him knowing.

“I had to!” she responded, her hands going up to defend herself from Sam’s criticism that she could already tell was coming. She moved quickly around the kitchen, trying her best to get dinner done in a timely manner and avoid getting any more grief from her brother. Sam noticed now that she was preparing five bowls instead of four, and he heard the motorcycle outside turn off.

“You really didn’t,” he said, exhausted. He tried to stand up slowly, grumbling to himself in the process. “Now I’ve gotta deal with his ass. Can’t just have my damn stew in peace.”

“Would you calm down? This is a good thing,” Sarah chastised him, getting irritated with his attitude. “Having an extra set of hands around here will be a big help. Not that you’d know what accepting help feels like,” she added, the last sentence being said under her breath, but still loud enough for Sam to hear.

Dumbfounded, Sam opened his mouth to hit her with another smartass reply, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Sarah quickly dumped a chopped up onion into the pot of broth on the stove before going over to the door, unlocking it and opening it for none other than the one and only James Buchanan Barnes to enter the house with a bag slung over his shoulder. He moved his sunglasses to rest on top of his head before he smiled at Sarah, and she went in for a hug. Sam could feel his fever rising as his blood boiled at the sight of it.

“Welcome back!” she said excitedly, looking him over. “I’m glad you could make it! Do you need help with your bag or anything?”

“I am too,” Bucky replied through a smile, his voice dropping lower than it needed to. “And no, I should be alright, thanks. Whatever’s cookin’ smells real good, what’s for dinner?” He freely carried himself throughout the space as he responded, and his familiarity and comfortability with the house made Sam feel a little funny.

“Just some stew, nothing fancy,” she said as she went back to stirring the pot and starting to chop up more ingredients. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bucky drawled casually, walking over to where Sam was standing by the couch. He set his bag down and got a good look at him, head to toe. “Not looking so hot, Cap. Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Something like that,” Sam rasped before a cough broke through involuntarily. He sat back down on the cushions, grabbing for his water bottle, but Bucky was faster; he handed it to him gently, and Sam eyed him, annoyed, before reluctantly taking it from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded a little quietly, pursing his lips. Sam knew his annoyance with the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re welcome.”

A door opened down the hall, and Bucky heard them before he saw them. “Is that uncle Bucky?!” Cass yelled excitedly, and both boys ran towards him as fast as they could.

“It sure is!” Bucky beamed back, reaching down a little to meet them halfway, picking them both up in each arm and swinging them around the living room with a big smile. Bucky had always been a natural when it came to the boys, and Sam found himself feeling a tinge of fondness seeing them all get along so well. Bucky used his vibranium arm to lift AJ up onto his shoulders, still swinging Cass around in a circle. “I’m playing doctor for uncle Sammy this week, if you can believe it.”

“No way!! A whole week? That’ll be so awesome!!” Cass exclaimed, as Bucky started to set them both back down on their feet.

“Yeah,” Sam groaned, barely audible. His voice dripped with sarcasm and with dread. “So awesome.”

“Could you pick me up from school one day this week so that everyone will see that I’m friends with the Winter Soldier and think I’m super cool?” AJ asked quickly, looking up at him expectantly. 

Bucky laughed nervously, looking over towards Sam for help. Seeing him look so lost and unsure what to say was endearing and funny enough to make Sam crack a bit of a smile.

“Actually yeah,” he said. “I’m usually the one who picks them up. They’ve had to carpool the past couple days.”

“Well, uh,” Bucky started, “my bike can only really fit two, and I don’t wanna try and stick ‘em both on there. Could I borrow your car?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just get ‘em on time.”

“Alright boys,” Sarah interrupted from the kitchen, stirring the stew and turning the stove down. “Dinner’s ready, come get it.”

Sam went to stand, but Bucky gently put his hand up to stop him.

“Stay put,” he said, “I’ll get you some.”

Sam found the charity somewhat irritating at first; but he couldn’t deny that he really did not want to get up to get his own bowl. So to have Bucky bring one over to him was… nice.

The boys both ran over to the kitchen, grabbing their bowls and waiting patiently for Sarah to be done serving herself before they stepped in to get their own stew. As they did, Bucky moved to the other side of the kitchen and got out four glasses from the cabinet, opening up the fridge to get out the pitcher of sweet tea, filling them all up with ice before pouring the tea in. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion; he remembered Bucky being obsessed with Sarah’s sweet tea the first time he tried it. Why wasn’t he having a glass?

He set three of the teas at the table, then brought the last one over to the couch. He then, though, set the tea down on the coffee table, not in front of Sam but a good ways beside his water bottle, right in front of the other seat on the couch. 

“You don’t need the sugar,” Bucky deadpanned preemptively, already seeing Sam’s glare and knowing he was about to complain. He picked up Sam’s water bottle, making his way back to the kitchen.

“I don’t remember you being a doctor,” he shot back anyway, challenging him with an angry stare.

“Sam,” Sarah firmly chastised from her seat at the table. “Quit it.”

Bucky chuckled, and looked back over to him with a mischievous grin. “Yeah Sam,” he said with raised eyebrows, continuing his trek to the kitchen to get their dinner and fill up Sam’s water.

Sam grumbled to himself, wanting to argue yet again but choosing instead to just grind his jaw and crunch up the remains of his cough drop so that he could eat. With the way things were already going, he swore to himself that he’d kill Bucky before the week was over.

-

Like every night before, Sam’s symptoms got worse once night fell. Blowing his nose every ten minutes and barely able to speak, he was popping cough drops constantly, putting in a new one almost as soon as the last one faded away. He didn’t feel up to doing anything other than laying his sorry ass on the couch with his blankets and flipping through the channels on TV, and he really, really just wanted to be alone; but that wasn’t an option right now, seeing as Bucky had to be here, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He was at the very least thankful that he was being silent (it was easier that way to pretend he wasn’t even there), just reading one of his books while Sam lounged comfortably though unable to engage in conversation. He doubted he would want to even if he could.

He was tired, exhausted even, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night. He never could when he was sick; each night he’d fall asleep, rest for an hour or two, wake up coughing or choking on his own spit, stay awake for an hour, fall asleep for another two hours or so, and repeat until he gave up on sleeping once the sun finally rose. It was miserable, and after several days, he was starting to feel the effects of sleep deprivation as well as the cold.

An alarm went off on Bucky’s phone then, startling Sam out of his thoughts.

“What’s that for?” he croaked, instantly regretting it when he felt the dull swollen ache in his throat and heard how pitiful his voice sounded.

Bucky looked at him with pursed lips. “Your medicine,” he said. “It helps to keep you on a schedule.”

Sam huffed in annoyance, but he was too tired to argue.

Bucky put a bookmark in his book and stood from his spot at the couch, taking Sam’s lack of protest as acceptance. Wordlessly he made his way into the kitchen, sorting through the medicine cabinet because he knew just where everything was, and Sam decided to ignore yet again the way that made him feel. He was tired, that was all. That’s why he was overthinking the way Bucky occupied the space like he belonged there, surely. That was all it was.

Sam turned his attention back to the TV, choosing to focus instead on the rerun of Bar Rescue that was currently playing, even though he had been watching this same damn show for hours now and he had kind of lost interest in how much alcohol this particular bar was wasting every month.

Bucky returned after a few minutes, longer than Sam expected it to take to pour out a little dose of cough syrup, but when he did he saw it was because he was also holding a steaming hot mug in his other hand.

“Made you some tea,” he said, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of Sam. “Should help you sleep.”

Sam just stared up at him, feeling frustration bubbling up in him at the feeling of being constantly coddled like this, but he was too exhausted to put up too much of a fight. He could manage a little bit though.

“I don’t like tea.”

Bucky sighed, irritated but not surprised by Sam’s resistance. “Just drink it.”

Still glaring, he wordlessly reached for the medicine in Bucky’s hand and downed it like a shot, not wanting the taste to linger. His nose scrunched up at the flavor anyway and he reluctantly reached for the tea, blowing on it for a moment before giving it a sip. It actually wasn’t too bad; he could taste the lemon, honey, ginger, and…

“Is that whiskey?”

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky replied, beginning to walk back over to the kitchen to put the medicine back up. “It’s a hot toddy. You’ve never had one?”

“No. Sounds old.”

Bucky chuckled a bit in response. “I guess it is. I used to make ‘em a lot back in the day, they work real well, trust me.” He then came back over to stand by the couch, looking down at where Sam was laying.  He thought for a moment, and his eyes squinted just a bit. “Do you wanna sleep out here or in the bedroom?”

“I’m fine here,” Sam replied, his voice barely registering above a whisper. The drink was helping, though, as much as he hated to admit it. “You can take the bed.”

Bucky nodded, sitting back down in his spot at the end of the couch and picking his book back up. “‘Kay.”

Sam kept sipping on his mug, drinking on it slowly until the last of it was barely warm. He felt his eyes slowly getting heavier as well, also due to the nighttime medicine making him drowsy and sleepy. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t fight to stay awake any longer, finally letting his eyelids fall shut and stay that way, curled up into his blankets.

-

He woke up with a sharp and fearful intake of breath, sitting up straight as quick as a bullet and immediately starting to cough up the phlegm that had tried to choke him in his sleep. As soon as he did, Bucky was at his side in a moment’s notice, kneeling beside the bed and gently rubbing his back while he held Sam’s water bottle in his other hand. It took Sam a few tries, but once he properly cleared his airways, he took several heavy and labored breaths to try and recover from the anxiety of it all and to return his breathing to normal as much as he could. Having Bucky there was definitely a help; whenever this would happen while he was alone, it took him a lot longer to calm himself down, nerves running rampant with the fact that he could have almost died from asphyxiation (or so he convinced himself).

With one last deep breath, he looked over at Bucky, who was closer to him than he expected him to be. He squinted in confusion as he huffed, and looked over to see a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor opposite the coffee table.

“You slept on the floor?” he whispered.

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I sleep better that way.”

Sam understood the sentiment; he remembered having a talk with Steve about it when they first met. Sam also understood but didn’t comment on the fact that it was probably also so that Bucky could keep a better eye on him this way. He decided yet another time that he didn’t want to explore how he felt about it.

Bucky handed him his water bottle, and he drank greedily. He needed to clear some of the thicker saliva out of his mouth so that he wouldn’t choke on it again, at least not for a while. The coolness of the ice-cold water made him sigh with relief as it eased some of the pain in his throat on the way down.

“Lean up a bit,” Bucky spoke softly, his hand leaving Sam’s back as he stood to grab another pillow from the other end of the couch. He slotted it behind Sam, stacking it with the pillows that were already there. “You gotta stay upright.”

Sam leaned back into the new pillow arrangement, and it felt all wrong. He didn’t know if he could sleep sitting up, and when he tried to rest his head, his neck bent at an awkward angle. He scowled and scooted down the cough enough to get comfortable, trying his best to stay as vertical as he could.

“There,” Bucky said, standing up and stepping back. Sam noticed he was only wearing a pair of lounge shorts, his dog tags dangling over his bare chest. “That should help.”

“Why are you doing all this?” he heard himself say, not entirely intending to speak his thoughts aloud. His voice was soft and slow with sleep as the question fell out. “Going through all this trouble just for me?”

Bucky took in a breath before responding. “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.”

Sam would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that; getting Bucky to admit literally anything about his feelings (in any form other than a complaint) was no small feat. He smiled a little at the thought of being the reason for it. “Thank you, Buck. It’s mutual.”

“Good,” Bucky huffed, his discomfort palpable. He clearly was not used to this kind of talk. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Of course. Can’t have people knowing the Winter Soldier’s gone all soft.”

“Exactly. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

Sam laughed again and pulled his blankets tighter to him, getting as comfortable as he could in his new sleeping position. He turned his head to the side and let his eyes drift shut for a moment. “Aren’t you nervous about getting sick, though?”

“Perk of the serum. Haven’t been sick since the thirties.”

“What makes you so good at all this then?” Sam asked, his voice becoming less and less audible as he felt himself start to get sleepy again. “The caring stuff.”

Bucky paused and looked down at the floor for a moment before gathering himself. “I used to care for Steve a lot when he’d get sick. Which was pretty much all the time, so I learned a few tricks along the way. Glad they’re coming in handy.”

“Me too,” Sam mumbled, the words barely coming out. “He was… real lucky.”

Sam didn’t stay awake long enough to hear the way Bucky’s breath hitched at the comment, or see the way his eyes watered ever-so-slightly; but when he fell back asleep, he slept through the night for the first time all week, knowing that Bucky was right there next to him.

Would love initial opinions/critique on this if you have any !! And again this is only a WIP, I'll probably keep posting more WIPs as I work on it and I'll make a little announcement post whenever I finish it and post it on my AO3. Just wanted to get a little bit of it out there after talking about it for so long. Anyway thank you for reading I hope you have a nice day :]

[chibikyo]

Day 14 - Voyeurism

Johnny Cage (mk1) x F!Reader

Reader, sensing Johnny might be a feeling a little lonely at the thought of returning to an empty home, agrees to return to L.A. with Johnny after the battle on the pyramid. After a long flight both are tired and just want to sleep, but reader happens to catch Johnny in the shower and he puts on quite a show for her, even if he doesn't realize it.

Warnings: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Masturbating in shower, non-consensual Voyeurism (though Johnny isn't upset when reader is caught), unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, mutual masturbation

*******************************************************

Y/n sighed, stretching her back as she made her way toward the room Johnny had provided her. Before the tournament, Y/n would never have considered accepting an acting role in a motion picture, but Johnny had managed to talk her into pitching the project with him. Even if she didn’t want to accept a role in the movie he had assured her that she’d be a great addition to his presentation. ‘Sex sells, Y/n,’ he’d told her with a smug grin. She’d rolled her eyes fondly as she agreed to tag along back with him to his L.A. home. 

She hadn’t had anything else going on before Liu Kang had found her so it wasn’t like she didn’t have the time, but, if she was honest, it hadn’t been his confidence or enthusiasm that had sold her on following him home. There had been a sadness in his eyes, his smile not quite able to mask his silent plea that only she had seemed to notice. She had an idea of why he looked so despondent and she’d only been proven right as he’d guaranteed her the VIP tour of his home town. It was the idea of returning to his empty home that seemed to sit heavy in his heart.

She could understand why. His divorce had been settled in his absence while he was training with the monks and despite pretending otherwise, she knew he’d burned a lot of bridges with his friends. Likely the only friends he had were Kenshi and the others and Y/n hoped he counted her among them. He’d laughed off the rejections from the others, but Y/n had been watching him, and had seen his eyes drop just a bit before he’d turned his charm on her. Of course she’d said yes and though she tried to convince herself otherwise, it wasn’t just because she couldn’t stand to see the older man unhappy.

“Uh Oh.” She stopped in the hall and glanced at the doors on either side, trying to remember which room he’d said was hers. They had finally arrived at his mansion less than an hour ago. She’d collapsed on his couch, her muscles aching and exhausted from two days of flying and Johnny dragging her around, and he’d given her directions to her room before excusing himself to shower and change. He’d offered to carry her upstairs, but she’d waved him off saying she just needed a minute to relax and hoped he hadn’t seen the blush on her cheeks. 

They’d flown in first to her hometown so she could check in on her flat and pack a wardrobe more appropriate for a big city rather than meditating and punching the hell out of a bunch of sweaty men. Johnny had run around her place like an overexcited toddler as Y/n unpacked her bags and then he’d taken over the packing process completely, shoving her out of her own room to repack toiletries while he personally selected her wardrobe for the trip. She almost stepped in to take over when she’d heard him saying, ‘gotta pack this sexy little number, for sure’, but he’d followed it up with, ‘Oh yeah these look hella comfy for a movie night’ and ‘Ohh and I remember her wearing those cropped hoodies a lot so like, three of those,’ and she’d been so charmed he would remember something like that she had ultimately left him to the task. 

They’d flown into L.A. that afternoon, but Johnny had detoured to his favorite cafe to get them coffee, then treated her to dinner at his favorite diner, and they’d walked off the meal with a tour outside his mansion. So when they’d finally managed to actually get inside her social battery was drained, her legs felt like lead, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the nearest soft object and melt into it. He’d laughed at her threat to simply sleep on his couch, but she had been half serious because by god it was soft.

All that had led her to this moment of frustration as she tried to remember exactly what he’d said. Based on what she remembered he had directed her to the last door at the end of the hall, but just based on the door and layout of the mansion that almost had to be the master bedroom. There was an open concept sitting room to her left, her right had another door that could be a room, then the door at the end of the hall that was emblazoned with a gold star. He hadn’t mentioned a star, but then again he’d stated it wasn’t the one across from the upstairs lounge. She was tired and decided it wasn’t worth arguing with the actor.

“At this point I don’t care as long as there’s a bed.” She sighed, heading down the hall and through the ornate door. The room was actually quite cozy, less of the modern contemporary feel of the main rooms and more intimate. It had a feeling of being lived in and Y/n still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t the master. The bed at the center of the room looked so comfy and inviting that she actually felt herself swaying toward it. Her bags were waiting at the foot of the bed and Y/n considered just stripping and crawling into the bed as she was, but she decided it would be best to wash off the sweat and grime of several airports and greasy diners so she spent a few minutes digging out what she would need to get cleaned up.

There was a changing room with his and her vanities that opened up to either the bathroom or a walk in closet. The bathroom door was ajar and as she started to push it open Y/n was hit with a puff of warm, steamy air and the sound of running water. She glanced up, confusion giving way to shock as she saw Johnny standing in what may have been the most decadent shower she’d ever seen. The shower had multiple recessed sprayers making it look more like Johnny was standing under a rain cloud. It was huge too, easily enough room for two or three people to shower comfortably. She was so engrossed in the design that it took her brain a moment to catch up to the most important and prominent feature; Johnny was in the shower, fully nude, and his left hand was slowly stroking the length of his cock.

She was sure she heard as her brain powered down for a few seconds, vision blurring as she rubbed at her eyes, sure that she wasn’t seeing things right. It didn’t help, as when things came back into focus it was to the sight of Johnny bracing himself against the shower wall, his forehead resting against his supporting arm as he steadily increased his pace. She swallowed as she watched his lips part as if letting out a wanton sigh, but she couldn’t hear it over the rush of water or the pounding of her own heart. She felt a spike of arousal coil thick and heavy between her legs and her face flushed with shame.

‘I need to leave. Johnny is my friend and I’m just standing here watching him like a pervert.’ She chastised, but her legs were frozen in place, her eyes glued to his strong fingers gripped around his leaking shaft. She clenched her thighs as she watched his hand give a little twist over the tip, wanting nothing more than to join this display of pleasure, but it would be wrong to masturbate to the sight of him, right? To bring herself to completion like the perverted voyeur she was. 

He readjusted, leaning his back against the wall so his other hand was free to roam. He kept the same languid, easy pace on his cock as his other hand skimmed his chest, teasing and pinching. Y/n had to bite down on her free hand to stifle a moan at the sight. How the hell had he maintained a perfect tan underneath his shaolin robes? All that slick, tawny skin on display was making her ache to feel it under her fingers. He moved lower, stroking down his abs, down past his cock to fondle his balls. He had his eyes closed and mouth open and Y/n could just hear the little gasps and moans likely falling from those plush lips.

She stopped thinking of anything that wasn't Johnny. She bit back a whimper as her hand slowly skimmed down her body, sliding beneath the lip of her shorts and pressing roughly against her clit. She rubbed it slowly, her panties wet with slick already creating a rough drag across her skin. She could feel her arousal growing, tight and hot and she nearly drew blood to hold in her moans. She saw Johnny adjust his grip on his cock, his hips thrusting in time with his strokes which were becoming faster, rougher. Her own fingers sped up to match his pace. His face was flushed and twisted up in ecstasy and Y/n could see the moment when his orgasm hit, shuddering and hand jerking erratically.

"Ahh, hnn, Y/n!" He moaned, loud enough she could hear it over the rush of water as he came and she couldn't help but gasp as she felt herself spill over with him. Her other hand twitched violently as Johnny let out a needy whine and to her horror the small bundle of toiletries she was holding clattered to the ground, echoing loudly as it hit the marbled tiles.

She froze as Johnny’s eyes shot up to meet hers, honing in on where her hand was disappearing under her shorts. His cock slipped out of his grasp, still not yet soft but he did nothing to hide his nudity. She wanted to run, but it was like being a deer caught in his headlights as she saw a little smirk grace his lips. He was moving, sliding open the glass shower doors, pace strong and steady as he approached her. She only managed to snap out of her stupor when she felt his hands slide down her sides, settling along the dip of her waist as he tugged her forward into the hot, moist air of the bathroom.

“Enjoy the show, stardust?” Johnny asked, his voice sly as one eyebrow raised up inquiringly. She felt her face flush even redder at the nickname, something he’d started using after he’d watched her fight the first time. ‘You move so fast, like a shooting star. Going to leave the rest of us in the dust aren’t you?’ He’d said it sincerely and Y/n had laughed it off, but then he’d started calling her stardust ever since. “Let's check."

She gasped as he reached down to tug her hand from her shorts. He brought it up to inspect, his tongue darting out to lap at the wet, sticky essence still clinging to them. Y/n let out a small groan as she watched him sucking her cum off her fingers. He released them with an obscene pop."

"Mmm. Delicious." He hummed. "If you wanted to see me naked you just had to ask, honey."

“Omg, Johnny what the hell?! I wasn’t trying to see you naked!” Y/n exclaimed, eyes snapping shut in horror as her brain finally caught up with what was happening. She pressed at his biceps to try and pry his hands away as she let out a slew of verbal nonsense. “I thought this was the guest room cause this is the room you told me to use and my bags are beside the bed and I didn’t mean to walk in on you and I, omg I shouldn't have watched you that was so wrong. Im such a fucking pervert, I'm so sorry Johnny, I never…"

"Calm down, stardust." Johnny interrupted gently. She glanced up as she felt Johnny’s hands tighten on her waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the fat of her hips as he stared at her. Her own hands settled along his upper arms, gripping them tight as she watched his eyes dance with barely contained laughter. He leaned down, captured her lips beneath his own as he pulled her firmly against him. His mouth was warm and soft and he kissed her like she was made of the very oxygen he needed to live. It was desperate and needy but filled with a tenderness that had her melting into him, seeking more. She didn’t even notice the hot press of his cock against her stomach or the wetness seeping into her clothes as he took her apart with his clever lips.

“Why not? After all, It was you that had me all hot and bothered to begin with.” Johnny kissed her again, chaste and sweet as he let one hand drift down to squeeze at her pert ass. “Knowing you were going to be sleeping in my bed, hopefully in those cute little PJ’s I packed for you. God, stardust, do you even know how pretty you are? How much I’ve wanted you for months now?” Y/n shook her head.

“Let's get a few things straight.” Johnny laughed. “First of all, I'm not at all upset that you enjoyed my performance. I'm honestly flattered. I would have loved to see your face when you came. Shame I missed it. Next time you should just join me.” He tugged at the hem of her shirt for emphasis and Y/n blushed. “Second, it’s my fault not yours. I wasn’t ready to sleep in that big bed all by myself, so I was going to use one of the guest rooms. I was going to just take a quick shower, but I got a little carried away and that’s on me, not you.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have been watching you… doing that.” Y/n murmured.

“I thought it was just me.” She squeaked and Johnny’s smile grew wider. “Thought maybe you weren’t ready to start looking again, with the divorce and all.”

“I wasn’t before, but that didn't stop me from noticing you, honey.” He smirked. "Now, how about you join me for a nice, long, hot shower and maybe you can give me an encore?" He tugged at her shirt again and Y/n couldn't help the grin spreading across her own face.

"Sounds perfect, Johnny."

[hanstruman]

The warmth we make

Chapter 24

"No. We need to go in tonight."

Han pauses, the scarf around his neck fluttering in the breeze. "Seriously?"

"We'll lose too much time if we wait," you explain, already stepping forward. "We'll stay in my old place. If it's still intact, it's safe enough for the night. We'll rest, leave at first light."

Hyunjin groans. "Oh no. She's got the Chan look."

"What look?" you ask, confused.

"The 'I've done the math and we're doing it my way' look," Han mutters.

Jeongin sighs but adjusts the strap on his bag. "Can't believe I left the warmth of home for this."

"You begged to come," Minho reminds him with a smirk.

"Yeah, well. I thought we'd be sneaking around in the morning. Under sunlight. With snacks."

Despite the jokes, they follow your lead.

As you cross into the outskirts of the city, everything narrows. Streets wind tight, buildings crowd overhead, casting long shadows even in the low light. The air changes too—denser, still, almost waiting.

You clutch your weapon tighter.

Minho walks ahead of you now, motioning for silence as you weave through a back road that cuts behind your old neighborhood. You direct him left at a rusted-out truck, then right at a storefront where mannequins still stand frozen in dusty glass.

"There," you whisper, pointing across the street. "That building. Top floor."

The safe house.

Or it was, before.

It looks mostly intact from here. The boards you nailed over the windows remain, the rooftop ladder still hidden under the loose panel by the side stairs.

Minho studies the exterior, then glances back at you. "If this place is full of infected, I'm blaming you."

"Deal."

Hyunjin covers the rear as Han quietly lifts the panel, revealing the rusted ladder. You climb first, heart hammering at each creak of metal, praying your stash of traps still works.

At the top, the rooftop door opens with a groan—but no growls greet you. No shuffling.

Inside, it's dusty but empty. Your bedroll is still there. A few of your supplies. The faint scent of something herbal—an old candle, maybe.

You breathe out, tension draining from your shoulders.

"This was yours?" Jeongin whispers, peeking into the main room.

"Yeah," you say softly. "It's not much, but it kept me alive."

"It's better than any safe house I've ever had," Han shrugs, already setting his bag down and flopping onto a makeshift cot.

Minho gives you a small nod, one that says more than words: Nice work.

They start settling in—clearing windows, checking closets, unpacking quietly. You don't relax fully, not yet. But it's the first time you've seen this place with other people, the first time it hasn't felt lonely.

And somehow, that changes everything.

-

Minho shifted closer as the night settled in, the shadows of the ruined apartment stretching long across the floor. The others were quiet, their breathing soft around the makeshift camp they'd built in what used to be your living room. A few candles flickered from broken shelves, casting a warm glow against the peeling walls.

Outside, the world was too still.

"You cold?" Minho's voice was low, barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tugging the sleeves of your jacket down over your fingers. "Told you there's no heat."

He smirked, eyes glinting as he leaned back against a backpack. "Guess we'll just have to snuggle for warmth, huh?"

Han snorted from across the room. "I'm sure you'd love that."

Minho didn't even try to deny it—just raised his brows and gave a little shrug. "Gotta survive somehow."

Everyone laughed, the tension of the long day slipping off their shoulders for a while. They passed around some old protein bars and a dented thermos of tea Hyunjin had insisted on bringing. You'd already packed the essentials from your stash—medicine, the least-expired food, a tattered book, a cracked polaroid frame. The rest would have to be left behind.

Once the bags were mostly ready and the last bites of their shared dinner were finished, the group sprawled out more comfortably, blankets and coats layered wherever there was space.

Han kicked at Jeongin's foot. "Alright, story time. Who was the weirdest version of you before the world ended?"

Hyunjin didn't hesitate. "I used to pretend I was allergic to dairy to get out of cafeteria lunches. But really, I just hated the school milk."

"You monster," Han grinned. "You robbed the lactose-intolerant community of their truth."

Jeongin rolled his eyes. "I took ballet lessons for a month and quit because I couldn't handle how much my calves hurt."

"That explains why you're weirdly graceful for someone who tackles zombies with a shovel," you joked.

Minho chuckled beside you. You were leaning against him now, both your shoulders tucked together beneath one of the larger blankets. He hadn't said much during the stories, but his eyes kept drifting down to you.

"Come on," Han pointed at him. "You haven't gone."

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh. "I was in a dance crew. Like, a serious one. Matching jackets and everything."

"No," Hyunjin gasped.

"Yes."

"Did you do flips?"

"I was the guy who did the intro with the hat spin."

Everyone howled, and Minho groaned as you giggled against his arm.

"You're never living that down," you grinned.

He shot you a mock glare. "I was cool, okay? Cooler than I am now."

"You were never cool," Han said. "We let you think you were. That's different."

Even Jeongin cracked a smile. For a moment, it felt almost normal. As if the city outside wasn't falling apart. As if the world had never ended.

Eventually, the laughter ebbed into a warm quiet. A silence that held comfort instead of fear. That soft pause before dreams.

When the bags were filled and the warmth of the tea started to lull your bones into stillness, the group settled onto the floor. Han curled into a blanket on one side, already halfway asleep. Jeongin had his hoodie over his face. Hyunjin stretched out beside you, groaning at the stiffness in his back.

You felt the mattress shift again as Minho leaned toward you, holding something small in his hand. You recognized it instantly—your old locket. The clasp was broken, but the photo inside was still visible.

"Hey," he said gently, "this yours?"

You took it from him slowly, thumb brushing over the faded image. "Yeah. It was my mom's."

Minho didn't say anything right away, just watched your face for a beat. "You gonna keep it?"

"Wouldn't feel right to leave it."

He nodded, and for a moment his voice was softer than usual. "She'd be glad you're still here."

You swallowed, and nodded. "Thanks."

After that, no one really spoke. Everyone slowly bundled together in sleeping bags and layered coats. You ended up squished between Minho and Hyunjin, the three of you tangled in a mess of borrowed blankets. Minho draped an arm lazily over your waist, and Hyunjin's head bumped against your shoulder.

"This is definitely not how I pictured my twenties," you murmured.

Hyunjin hummed, half-asleep. "Same. But you're trouble, so it makes sense."

Minho chuckled lowly, breath warm against the back of your neck. "Sleep, or you're carrying all the bags tomorrow."

You smirked but didn't reply. The room fell into silence, save for the occasional creak of old floorboards.

Then the sound came—distant at first. A dull, dragging shuffle. Then another. And another. You all sat up slowly, the hair on your arms standing on end.

Minho crawled toward the cracked blinds and peeked through. His whole body stilled.

"There's... a lot of them."

You sat up fully, your chest tightening. "How many?"

"Dozens. Maybe more."

Hyunjin got to his feet and moved beside Minho to look. "Shit."

Han stirred, voice still thick with sleep. "What? What's happening?"

"They're just walking," Minho murmured, brows drawn tight. "They're not coming here. Just passing by."

Still, everyone moved quietly, carefully. Jeongin had his hand on his knife. Han tucked himself behind the old couch, heart pounding audibly in the room's silence.

But then—something else. A flicker of movement. A shadow, taller than the others. It didn't walk like the infected.

"Was that a... person?" Hyunjin asked, voice sharp.

No one responded.

You stayed awake for the rest of the night, hearts pounding in your throats as the horde shuffled by. They didn't break toward the building. They didn't charge or sniff or scream.

They just passed.

And somewhere in the quiet, the unease took root in your chest.

-They didn't speak for a long time.

No one moved much either, save for the occasional shift of fabric or the low creak of someone adjusting their weapon in the dark.

The infected kept walking.

Past the windows. Past the cracked brick and broken streets. An endless shuffle of limbs and groans. Some with heads bowed, others with arms dragging, a few twitching with that eerie, jerking cadence that made your skin crawl.

You'd all frozen the moment they were spotted. There wasn't a single breath in the room that hadn't felt held for too long.

And even when they were gone, the weight remained.

A silence that felt heavier than the horde.

Jeongin was curled against the wall, eyes wide but dry. Hyunjin sat with his knees pulled to his chest, mouth pressed into a thin line. Mingi gripped a crowbar in one hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. Han hadn't even blinked in a while.

Minho sat beside you, one arm behind you on the floor, the other resting on his knee, hand loosely holding a knife.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye.

The flickering candlelight softened the sharpness in his face, made his expression harder to read. But there was something there—worry, maybe. Or... focus. A kind of distant tension that hadn't been there earlier.

"Do you think it was really a person?" you whispered.

Minho didn't look at you right away. His gaze was fixed out the window, on the path the infected had taken.

"I don't know," he said finally. Quiet. Honest. "But I think we need to be careful tomorrow."

You nodded. "We were already going to be careful."

His lips curved into a faint smile. "Then be more careful."

He turned his head then, met your eyes.

There it was—that soft flicker again. The same one he'd given you when he found the locket. The same one he gave you sometimes during training when he thought no one was looking.

You didn't know what it meant yet.

But it made your stomach flip.

Outside, the wind howled low and cold through the broken buildings. Somewhere far off, something groaned—too distant to know if it was infected or just metal moving in the dark.

Inside, your safe house didn't feel so safe anymore.

And morning couldn't come fast enough.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hey, Sisyphus. Kez again. Uh, Kestrel. I mean.

Man, I thought coming home was supposed to be relaxing, heh. I got a flat tire on my way back yesterday, so that was fun. And then I've gotta help Mom with some of Gramma's stuff— I think we're just packing away her clothes right now, though. I know Mom wanted to wait on the more valuable stuff. She'll probably ask if you want to keep anything, too. You know, uh, just for the sake of it. Still need to unpack my car, I was too tired to do that yesterday. That can wait til whenever, though. What else did I need to...? Dammit. It'll come back to me. I hope.

Anyway, uh, in between all of that I've been managing to scrape up some crumbs on Minos before you guys land. I swear, finding anything at all on this place is like finding a weed in a meadow— nobody gives a shit about Minos! It's all about those bigger planets with Étoile Dorure. (I know, that pronunciation was shit. Don't make fun of me. My blood is half Romanian, not French.) Uh, anyway, seems like Minos can't really keep up with the popularity. Maybe why they have that bigass cruise ship you guys are on. Except for the fact that nobody wants to vacation where it's cold as shit, so, you know. Smart move.

Oh, wait, none of that's what you even wanted me to look for, sorry. Hang on— the uh, conversion rate's not too pretty. One Minos credit for every one-point-two-five Earth credits, give or take. Couldn't really find much about the healthcare, though. Seems like most of the benefits go to people who have been employed terra firma for two consecutive years. Two consecutive Minos years, I mean. Which is like, uhh... I dunno, three Earth years, more or less? Their years are like, over five hundred days long. So, y'know, that's real great news for you guys, obviously. 

And trying to find anything at all about traveling between systems was basically impossible— most everything was just bloated tourism advertisements. Really, with such a big difference in orbital cycles, I can only imagine trying to schedule anything between here and there is a total shitshow. Sorry, man. But hey, I'm sure uh, the others will be trying to find out the same stuff once you guys land. They'll probably have way better luck than what I can access from Earth's servers. Here's hoping the best window hasn't passed already. I know Mom wouldn't be too happy about it either, aha— 

!!!

That's what I forgot! The sanctuary tickets! Okay, I gotta go do that so I don't forget again, and then help Mom. Thanks for the ideas, by the way. I know she'll love this. Oh, and uh, I signed the card I gave her with both of our names, too. Just so you know. Okayanywaycatchyoulater.

Hey! Listen, if you want me to call you Kez, I definitely can. Just say the word.

No, yeah, I know what you mean. It's a big change. A flat tire? That's the worst. Hey, but you made it! Why would she ask if I wanted— Yeah no she probably will. It'll come back to you, yeah. Rest up. Sounds like you need it.

You have?! Great, good, okay. Uh— Étoile Dorure would be the name of the star system, then? (Hey, I don't judge.) Considering the whole point of a luxury ship is to get off the planet, maybe you're onto something.

...All right. That's not so bad. Figured as much with the healthcare stuff. Jeez, five hundred...? Hopefully that won't be much of an issue. It's all right. Thank you, seriously, for going to all the trouble of getting this information. It means a lot.

The— Would that be a bird sanctuary? Something like that? I bet she loves it. Good pick! Hm? Yeah, of course. I'm pretty sure you made the right choice, though. ...You did? You didn't have to— That— Wow, uh— That was really kind of you, Kestrel. Thank you. Catch you later.

[timkontheunsure]

I’d like your opinion on a few theories about something Viv teased about the next episodes. She said that they culminate in the ending of an arc they’ve been building up for awhile. I have 3 theories what that could be

1. Blitz-overcoming his low self esteem and demons, able to move on

2. Stolas- he stands up for himself against the goetia, possibly stripped of his title.

3.stolitz- they finally talk, possibly confess and reconcile

Or it could be a combo of all 3. But it sounds like she’s talking about a specific arc, and while I’d like for it to be Stolitz development, I have a feeling it’s a specific character arc.

What do you think?

Humm ok (again obligatory warning about head injury, so sorry about typos, or not connecting things properly ect).

But kinda think all 3 are getting advanced, but only 1 of them finished by the end of this season.

1)Blitz-overcoming his low self esteem and demons, able to move on.

Well we've definitely had some of that Oops and Blitz getting the unattainable of Fizz forgiving him, and being his best friend again.

And I think we're going to see some of that trauma get explored in Ghostfuckers.

It's also likely that it's going to be the episode with Blitz's hearing he makes everything worse from evil Millie.

But I don't think that's going to be neatly packed away, because Barbie's met to be back in s3.

It also doesn't quite make sense if that's not the main focus of the last two episodes. Mastermind and Sinsmas don't seem to be able that. Though we do appear to have the least clips about those.

But honestly mostly because this show understands trauma is with us for the long haul. We can unpack it, make it lighter to carry, but it's always with us.

2) Stolas- he stands up for himself against the goetia, possibly stripped of his title.

Could be. A big theme is Stolas learning he's allowed to choose, but also setting up one hell of a backlash for stepping out of line.

We've had a theme of people standing up to the powerful.

With Blitz standing up to Ozzie for M&M,

Loona standing up to Bee,

Fizz standing up to Mammon.

Stolas either telling Paimon, or the Goetias council, that he's getting the divorce no matter what they do; could play into that theme.

The tile striping seems fairly likely, but possible down the road. Maybe suspension first?

But again I don't think that's going to be nice wrapped up either. With the trail plot starting in series 3.

Assuming that'll be about the book deal, because chekhov's gun says it's gotta blow up in their faces at somepoint.

Also Stolas coming out in his 30s was always going to be a bit messy.

Can't really see that being fully over in a couple of episodes because this show gets trauma, and missed developmental stages and secondary adolescence take a while to work through.

(Take it for someone who was parentified from an early age, you don't really get to move on till you've dealt with it. Even if it's as small as being silly every now and again. Or just keeping a teddy.)

Pretty sure this is why Stolas has to hug himself to sleep. (Link for people that have no clue what I'm on about here)

3)stolitz- they finally talk, possibly confess and reconcile.

Yer this would be my bet for the one that's getting nicely tied up.

Best guess it'll be them both admitting they love eachother.

Because Blitz has spent the first 2 series pretending as hard as possible that he doesn't like Stolas, and definitely doesn't love him.

(Despite everyone around him, but Stolas, able to tell he's head over heels for his fluffy owl).

I'm not expecting miracles with our sweet dummies though.

That's kinda all I'm expecting to sort.

With them probably not full getting together because of issues they need to work though, the divorce, Stella's abuse and plot to kill Stolas, and Via being against them dating ect.

(She's gotta be called CockblOctavia for a reason after all. Ok had to add the other link to Brandon calling her that, cus too funny).

[keaganz]

@corrodedcoffinfest for the off leach event.

Rating: Teen & up| Word count; 2,410| Relationship; Harringrove, end game Matelsandwich| CW; some swearing| pov: Eddie| Upside-Down, S4, Canon divergence, Billy and Robin are platonic soulmates, unreliable narrator because author has a migraine, Demo!Dog Chomp, Steve in the Upside-Down, fade to black implied sex, Eddie has a bisexuality crisis at the worst time, stancy mentioned

“ Don't step on the vines everything here is connected to each other and Vecna”

“We know Wheeler! This ain't our first time, for some of us it's not our trip into this hell hole”

“Yeah and last time you were here, you got Steve killed, Hargrove!”

“A fucking vine pulled him in to the tunnels just as they were closing up! I fucking tried to save him! My fucking fingers were bleeding from trying to dig him out! Oh yeah and where were you huh? Oh yeah off with Buyers, you didn't even have the decency to properly break up with him”

“Guys! Guys! Come on, can we not do this now? I don't know about you but I think Billy has gotten rabies from the bat bites. And I feel like we are being watched and this bickering really isn't helping. Let's just get to Nancy's house, because guns sound good to me about now”

Eddie still can't believe this is his life right now. He shouldn't have been really surprised, after seeing a possessed Neil Hargrove feeding people to a melted people monster just the summer before. He doesn't know what's more unbelievable actually, Hargrove and Buckley becoming surgically attached at the hip or indeed the melted people monster, a pack of rabid gremlins called the Mind Flayer.

He really only has himself to blame, it was his unhealthy curiosity and obsession with Harrington that led him here. His sudden disappearance, Hargrove's sudden cordial attitude towards Wheeler and Buyers and said pack of rabid gremlins that knew more about King Steve's disappearance. He learns about the Upside-Down, Demogorgans and superpowered children.

As he looks around, doing his best to ignore Billy's bare chest, he's not unpacking his apparent sexuality crisis right now, he's in awe that baby Bayers had spent nearly a fortnight here alone.

Hargrove and Wheeler are still arguing with Buckley standing in between them trying to defuse them. They are all aware that while they may be relatively safe for now huddled around Skull rock he knows it can't last and they really need to get going. Not to mention that Hargrove is missing some chunks out of his perfectly chiseled abs. And again this isn't the time or place for him to unpack that.

He shrugs off his battle vest and chucks it at Billy “For your modesty dude! And hopefully to cover up the scent of blood”

Billy catches it easily and leers at him, licking his lip in that annoyingly hot way he does. “Modesty you say? You getting distracted by my tits Munson?”

He does look away when Hargrove wiggles his pecs as he raises an eyebrow before putting on the vest with a slight grimace. That's gotta hurt like hell, being a chew toy for some interdimensional bats. He whips his head around, thinking he just saw something moving in his peripheral. “Guys, I think we need to get moving. Because I'd feel a lot safer with guns right about now”

As they start the relatively long walk towards the Wheeler house, he can't shake the feeling that they are being watched and possibly headed through the forest. He shares his suspicions with Hargrove, who agrees that it's strange that they reach their destination without further confrontation with the locals.

Once inside they learn that Hawkins in the Upside-Down is stuck in 1983 and how the two realities sometimes bleed into each other when Billy starts calling out to Red when he starts hearing her. Everything that follows happens fast. One minute Dustin is explaining about the gates and the next they are biking towards the trailer park.

He doesn't want to go back to his trailer. He doesn't want to see the evidence of Chrissy's death. He should have seen the red flag when she asked for the hard stuff. He should have picked up on that something freaky was happening when she kept zoning out. He choked as he hold back his sobs, nearly causing him to slip and fall from the too small bike.

He can still hear her bones cracking and each time he closes his eyes he relives those horrifying moments over and over again. Maybe in another life they could have been friends, maybe even lovers. Her physical beauty was only outshined by her sweet and kind personality. Jason really didn't deserve to be her boyfriend.

Their luck does hold as they get ambushed by two Demogorgans that just came out of nowhere when they enter the trailer park. He and Buckly go right as Wheeler and Hargrove go left. Their odds of successfully fighting off one Demogorgan between two people are higher than fighting off both at the same time.

He will deny it to his last breath but he screams out when suddenly three Demodogs skid on the road they are on and run at full speed towards him. He can hear Buckley also letting out a terrified scream and hears her skidding on the gravel and falling. He braces himself for the inevitable but the Demodog heading straight at him swerves to pass him.

He nearly falls as he gives the handlebars of his bike a wild tug to turn around. He jumps off the bike and rushes to Robin's side. He drops to his knees next to her and looks her quickly over, but hearing the dying screaming of the Demogorgan at the hands of the Demodogs roots them both to the ground in horror. They watch the terrifyingly gory scene unfolding before them.

The Demodogs click and chatter excitedly as they feast on the dead Demogorgans flesh.

“Tha..that's strange right? I mean… hive mind and everything?”

“Yeah, but ah ..I think we need to go, like right now. Before they remember us” As he helps her stand up one of the creatures turns its head to look straight at them. His eyes widen comically as he sees a bright pink bandana around its neck. The dog crooks its head to the side, before it's five petal maw opens up.

It's teeth are stained red and Eddie is will later swear, a he didn't shriek, b didn't pee himself a little and that c it still had chunks of Demogorgan stuck in its maw. The Demodog appears to be scenting the air before he trills loudly, petals snapping closed before taking off, the others fallow.

He turns to look at Buckley, his mouth opening and closing a few times. For the first time he's rendering speechless. It feels like an eternity as they stare at each other, neither knowing what to say. In reality it's only a few seconds before she breaks the heavy silence.

“Eddie ….. please tell me you saw it was wearing a pink bandana, aswell. Because if you didn't then digus gave me rabies. I don't want to have rabies!”

He nods “Yeah, yep, absolutely. I wish I could blame this on a bad trip, but I don't think my mind is that fucked up….”

A sudden loud scream starters them, they both say Nancy's name simultaneously as they start running in the direction the scream came from. He's seriously starting to think that the air is laced with some kind of airborne hallucigan because as they round a row of trailers they are met with the same pack of Demodogs that saved them. They skid to a halt next to Hargrove and Wheeler.

“ Why are they not attacking us? It makes no sense. They are part of the same hive mind”

“Wheeler, nothing in this hell dimension makes a lick of sense!”

He moves aside a bit to let Buckley brush past him to glue herself against Hargrove’s side and checks on his wounds. He can't help his eyes straying to check out his chest as she pushes his vest aside, and again he isn't going to unpack that. He's just worried about his customer and maybe kinda friend.

“Maybe we can sneak past them? I mean they weren't interested in me and Munson, just now. And his trailer can't be too far from here right? Dingus here needs a doctor”

He scans the area and nods “Yeah it's just two rows back. And I don't care why they are attacking each other, as long as they don't suddenly decide we are food”

They quietly but quickly start inching around the pack. A sharp loud whistle stops not only them in their tracks but also makes the Demodogs snap to attention as one.

The creature with the bandana around its neck crouches low, its rump starts vibrating with how fast it wiggles and it's front paws start tip tapping before it springs up and bounds over to a figures, a human shaped one, with an obvious limp, that walks from behind a trailer.

The creature trills and chirps as it dances around … Steve Harrington! He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again, he has to make sure it's real so he also pinches himself and hisses at the sharp pain. Next to him he can hear Wheeler gasping in shock.

“STEVE!” “HARRINGTON”

Both Wheeler and Hargrove call out to him at the same time, making the not so dead teen lift his head and stops petting the creature and walks closer, the dog? Dog, following his lead.

Wheeler moves to step forward but it's Hargrove that moves first and walks towards Harrington but stops when the dogs petal maw twitches open.

“Chomp, it's OK girl, Billy is a friend”

“Chomp” Robin mouths the name as give him a look that conveys their collective confusion. It nearly makes him miss seeing Hargrove and Harrington hugging and …. His brain short circuits as all of his blood rushes to his dick, because Jesus H. Christ! Hargrove and Harrington are kissing like their life depends on it. He tries to discreetly shift and adjust himself, because this isn't the time or place.

Luckily Wheeler's sputtering shriek pulls everyone's attention to her. Eddie frowns, she had gotten with Byers really quickly after his disappearance and if Hargrove’s to be believed she cheated on him, so her outrange feel performative.

“Steve??..I..!”

“Can we please do this top side? I don't trust Henderson and Mayfield to not try and enter the gate” He's spent enough time here and he thinks that Harrington shares his sentiments.

“ Gate? You .. you guys have a way out?”

Harrington's face lights up in hope. It makes butterfly's flutter in his gut. Again he isn't going to unpack that, partly because he doesn't think Hargrove is big on sharing.

~~~~~~

The rest of the day and night pass in a blur. There is a teary reunion between Steve, Dustin, Max and Lukas. They compare notes, make plans, steal a winnebago, narrowly dodge a run in with a vigilante mob, preparing for a suicide mission, giving the most metal concert ever, nearly dying multiple time, their town being struck by multiple earthquakes causesing the ground to literally rip open, narrowly escaping the Upside-Down and Chief Hopper returning from the dead.

When he wakes up in the hospital with his uncle at his bed he breaks down crying, swearing that he didn't kill Chrissy or any of the other people. Wayne assures him he knows and that Hopper had his name cleared. He stays in the hospital for a week before he's released into his uncle's care.

Harrington offered up his abandoned house, well not so abandoned house, for him and his uncle to stay while they figure things out and the government checks to come. Living with Harrington, Steve is interesting. For one his pet Demodog Chomp that still scares him each time it wanders into any room he's in, his uncle takes it in stride as if Demodogs are just your run of the mill dog breed, second is how he's readjusting to normal things.

He quickly finds out that Steve is completely touch starved and will fund any and all opportunities to touch everyone. He constantly ruffles the kid's hair, touching people's arms and back when he's standing next to them or just in passing. He’s also lost count how many times he's walked in on him and Billy making out.

He still hasn't unpacked his apparent and blatantly obvious bisexuality. Seeing Steve's hairy tits for the first time, sends his head reeling. He quickly excuses himself when Billy catches him looking. After that he can't escape Billy's leering looks and thinly veiled sexual innuendos.

It comes to a head when the three of them are sitting outside sharing a blunt. They had spent the day entertaining the party around the pool with Hopper and Wayne standing at the grill, in a picture perfect rendition of the white picket suburban middle class fathers neither of them are. Mostly because of Chomp begging for food at their feet.

Now it's just the three of them enjoying the quiet and calm cool night. No one has said something in a while so he startels a little when Billy suddenly speaks up.

“So Munson, you an ass or titts man?”

The question nearly makes him choke on his beer. He's no blushing virgin but he doesn't exactly have girls lining up to jump in the sheets with him. All of his escapades were either quickies at gigs and the two times he actually got a girl into his bed. “Both, they both have a nice jiggle to them”

He misses Billy and Steve sharing a look before turning to take the blunt from Steve.

Billy licking his teeth puts him on edge a bit, It reminds him of a shark.

“Hmmm so who has the better titts and a better ass? Me or pretty boy here”

“Stev….I…I.. mean…” His eyes go wide as he sputters and fails, causing him to slip into the pool. He breaks the surface gasping for air and two pairs of arms encircling him.

~ ~

He wakes up the next morning, he scrunches up his face as he pushes hair that definitely isn't his out of his face. He takes stock of the two warm and very naked bodies pressed against his own very naked one. Then he feels what awoke him, fat drops of cold slimy liquid. His eyes snap open as he comes face to face with Chomp hanging over him with a food bowl.

“Steve…Steve! Please get your dog off the bed”

[buckybuckyboo]

The men in the woods

A/N: This has been in my to finish pile for a while and I just can't seem to get past where I am XD. I hope you enjoy whatever this is.

Word count - 869

Warnings: alcohol (wine) kidnapping??

------------------------------------------------------------------

After just moving into your new house, happy to be away from the city for some peace and quiet. There was a couple of houses around the area and there was a wooded area not far from your house. You were unpacking when you heard a knock at the door. Quickly getting up to answer it, it was your neighbour from down the road. She had a home baked pie in her hands.

"Hi there! Wanted to welcome you to the neighbour hood!"

"Oh thank you so much! You're so kind. Would you like to come in?"

"No honey, maybe some other time gotta get back to the kids" she laughs "But welcome Oh one thing, don't go into the woods"

"Oh? Is there a big bad wolf?" you joke.

"Oh no but deep in the woods there are two men. They don't talk and nobody goes near them. They could be dangerous".

"Oh, okay. So they just live deep in the woods?"

"Yeah, nobody bothers them and they don't bother us"

"Okay um, thanks"

"You're welcome! Bye!"

Closing the door and leaning against it. "How strange".

Walking into the kitchen and leaving the pie on the counter top. You went back to unpacking and making your new home feel more like home. A few days have passed and you have introduced yourself to everyone in the area. You really clicked with your neighbour Jane and it felt like you two were going to become great friends. The two of you were sitting on Janes porch drinking wine when you decided to ask her about what your other neighbour said.

"Hey um, what's the deal with the woods? Sam told me not to go in there. Why?"

When you got home you showered and made dinner and sat down to eat. After, you watched some TV with your glass of wine you heard some noise coming from your porch. Pausing the movie and listening closely "hm, must have been a raccoon or something". When you finished your wine you head to bed. Like the morning before, you prepare your bag and set off again in the opposite direction that you went yesterday. The woods were so peaceful and that's what you enjoyed so much after living in the city. Listening to the birds sing and the squirrels in the trees and all the other wonderful nature noises. It felt good taking a deep breath with the fresh air away from the city life.

"Oh there are these two guy's that live deep in the woods. We don't bother them and they don't bother us. But girl, if you seen what they looked like. They are fucking gorgeous!" She laughs.

"But yeah, we just stay away from them. We don't know anything about them"

"Oh, okay" you smile and take a sip of your wine. You couldn't stop thinking about it though. You wanted to know what they looked like and why they live deep in the woods. Getting up early the next morning and packing to go on a hike into the woods but after a few hours of nothing, you decided to head back home and tomorrow you were going to go the other way.

As you go deeper into the woods you start to hear something different, banging. Listening for a moment and walked in the direction the noise was coming from. You knew you were going the right way as the noise was getting louder and then you saw him. Ducking behind a tree and peaking out behind it looking at him. He was chopping wood. He was tall, blonde short hair, no shirt and something around his waist. He looked gorgeous! Why were people telling you to stay away? He doesn't seem dangerous. As you were going to come out from behind the tree, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn around seeing the other man, same kind of build with dark long hair and a beard. You didn't know what to do or where to look.

"I uh, I'm sorry I'll just-"

He turns his head to the side and his brows knitted together. He shouts something out, a different language you haven't heard or you are just too overwhelmed to recognise it. He starts to walk forward towards you and you step backwards but you slip on some leaves and hit your head knocking you unconscious. You can feel yourself being lifted and carried but you pass out again.

When you wake up, you are in a dark room with some candles. Sitting up in the bed makes you wince in pain as your head still hurt but no cuts.

"Hello?" you call out but nothing. You get off the bed and head for the door but as soon as you reach for the handle it swings open. The two of them standing in the doorway blocking you from getting passed them. They exchange some words and the blonde one smiles. They shove a bowl of food into your hands and close the door again. You look down at the bowl of food and back at the door "Sh- should I leave? Will they let me leave? What should I do?"

[asksoldieron]

SO-36: GET DOWN, MR. PRESIDENT!

If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand.

There's the map, but I am working on illustrations and I will add them retroactively. I hope.

Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for Hujambo! (265|36) an instalment! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a 475 character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!

You know, I'm not trying to end each six-pack on a cliffhanger, but it keeps working out like that. I've got half the next one done, I could probably get it posted after a two week break, but I wouldn't have time to do anything else. I gotta see about art, and whatever else I can do for readers. So, probably, I'll post the next six in draft form at Ko-Fi for you, my few supporters, and leave the site on hiatus while I work on the other stuff. I will try like hell to do something for our birthday in April, but I can never be sure what'll happen between now and then.

So we're in Zanzamin now! Yay! An island nation/terrorist enclave that's out to free the world! It's not going very well by the numbers, but they're trying, and stealing things off bloated empires while they're at it. I shouldn't take sides, but I like them. They're a lot of fun. We're gonna have fun.

Erik isn't having any fun, but he'll be okay. I filkified one of my "mood" songs for the end, so you'd be sure there's no evil intent. I'll leave the music here:

The other song I've been listening to a lot is Turn the World Around

but I don't think I can rewrite the lyrics. They're too on-the-nose! Zanzamin has a lot of cultures crashing into each other and so many new arrivals with trauma to be triaged. They're inclined to help each other, but they have some Spirit to keep them honest, lest they forget. It barely had time to say "hujambo!" before Erik passed out, but it means well!

Erik doesn't know anyone with a brain octopus who's good at using it (well, he doesn't know he knows anyone). The only people who can help him are teaching him things Diane taught them, and Seth and Mordecai didn't want to/couldn't learn much. The end result is that Erik is driving a forklift around and he is NOT CERTIFIED! If and when he picks something up, he has no idea how to put it back down - save distraction, which is not the easiest or safest thing. And, in all the confusion, nobody realized he might have trouble during a huge, emotional gathering while he's operating in overdrive.

Well, it's always the problem you don't see that's going to bite you in the ass! So they're not going to quite have the Zanzamin visit they wanted...

But it's gonna be better. You saw how Maggie gets along with her current "family," the alternative is better.

Yes, I have changed the Setting page again, to reflect the new circumstances. I unpacked the kanga styles a little more there, among other things, but that's really the sort of thing I ought to draw at some point.

See you when I see you, hopefully with art in hand!

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour. 

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.” 

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.” 

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer. 

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?” 

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible. 

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?” 

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who… 

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle. 

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.” 

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.” 

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.” 

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!”  Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.” 

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction..  Damn, the boy can kiss! 

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless. 

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[thekinkyleopard]

Move-in Day

A Sven and Elex Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fet, Smut, Slight Domestic Bullying, Bj

Author’s Notes: I wanted to write something before October of the new boys 🥹 @aller-geez did the art and owns Sven!

Description: The boys are finally moving in together which is going to come with quite a few challenges. Such as boundaries. Something Elex struggles greatly with as he realizes his boyfriend can no longer hide his secret.

“Yo, 7! Where the fuck am I putting these boxes at? And why, or more so, HOW DO YOU HAVE SO MUCH SHIT?!” Elex exploded over the mountain of packed objects he carried through the threshold of their new rented home.

“Just set them in the living room, Lex…I gotta arrange this bathroom real quick…” the cat sounded distant, lost in his current task of getting their home looking like a home. “Also, you’re lucky I have all this shit or else we’d be sitting on lawn chairs watching some bunk ass TV you found on the side of the street,”

“Hey! I’m resourceful, and it’s handy, don’t act like it’s an inconvenience now,” rolling his two toned eyes. The grumpier of the two finally walked through the abode and set the large boxes down with a THUD. “Okay, so there’s this shitload in here and still 48 more shitloads in the truck..how the fuck do you expect to fit all this stuff? Where the fuck were you keeping it all??” The green haired mongrel looked about the small space of their two bedroom one and a half bath home.

“I had a storage unit, and decided to collect home decor the second I started getting a paycheck,” Sven now came walking out of the bathroom, fiddling his hands with some sort of plastic between them. “I figured I was going to need stuff if I was to inherit the family business…til Drae got adopted,” rolling his orange slitted eyes as he now stood in front of his grouchy boyfriend. “You’re welcome,” he stuck his tongue out at the other who swiftly grabbed it in between his index and thumb, giving the organ a light kiss before releasing it. “Hey!” Sven lapped his tongue and tried to remove the taste of Elex’s salty fingers.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the one fuckin’ luggin’ it all in here!” Snickering at his own cheeky behavior, and the other’s narrowed eye response.

“Go grab the rest of the shit tons you cretin,” snorting a bit through his nose, truthfully in hopes the man would skitter away faster because truthfully he could feel, deep within his sinuses, it was coming. He forgot to take his allergy meds, in all actuality, he packed them. That’s why he was unpacking the bathroom first. Yet, it seemed, he did not pack them according to his memory so he thought. Which means his allergy medication was floating somewhere in the several boxes he had recently packed. He sighed deeply.

“Why are you so antsy today? Like there’s a fire under your ass, chill,” Els looked the cat up and down almost worried he may explode into flames.

“Can you please just go get the other fucking boxes?!” Sven finally cracked, it was any minute before he started up, and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for Elex to see him actually sneeze without it somehow being stuffed behind something or completely swallowed back.

“Alright! Fuck! Someone’s on their Fuckin’ period,” the badger scoffed before taking his apparently needed exit, grumbling the whole way as he did so. He was alone. Sven looked around and quickly fell into disarray. He outwardly sighed and allowed himself to feel like he was full of rocks. Body visibly slumped from his perfect posture. The second he did, there it was, having been waiting in the dark depths of his allergetic sinuses. His nose began to twitch, and as he scrunched it back and forth…a sneeze came shooting out.

“H-!! H’Tshhkt!” He shook his head back and forth, puffs of spray hitting the air as he almost looked like he was fighting off a ghost. Hands flailing. “Ktch! N’GSH!” He groaned swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his white button up. “Stupid…N’GT! Allergies…H’tshh!!” He continued as he scrambled around the home full of boxes for anything he could use. “Bathroom!” He quickly shouted running back towards the area, snagging a string of toilet paper off the roll he’d set up. “Thank god…” he mumbled before blowing his nose, roughly, violently, with real purpose. He wanted not a single drop left when he was finished. He rubbed at his nose so adamantly there was a gentle clicking sound emitting from the area. Unbeknownst to him, Elex had re-entered the home, with another armful of boxes, muttering about heavy useless garbage, why not get stuff at the dollar tree. Sven’s head snapped to the bathroom door and he quickly shut it with panic. Locking the knob.

Elex sat the boxes down and at the same moment, heard the bathroom door click, as it were being secured. “Sven?” He called out curiously, his head tilted to the right as he walked towards the bathroom now. “…Sven??” Starting to feel a bit worried his voice picking up to that of slight panic. His boyfriend wasn’t the silent type, and he knew the badger was nosey, so typically calling for him would have triggered some sort of response in update. Yet there was nothing. Elex furrowed his brows and stepped forward to jiggle the knob.

From the other side Sven sat up against the wall, fighting for his life. ‘Fuuuuuck why are you so nosey Elex ?!’ He screamed internally as his body worked against him. “I’m uh…” he called out trying to speak without interruption. “I’m..Nn..trying to shit…do you..KT! … mind?!”coming up with something he seemingly found less embarrassing than sneezing…..shitting? He panicked. Wiping desperately at his nose in hopes it would keep it settled.

“Uh…k my fuckin’ bad,” Lex held up his hands defensively and smoothly turned from the door to give his partner some privacy. He plopped himself down onto..well…one of the sturdier boxes, and started scrolling through his media news feed. Every so often snorting a chuckle through his nostrils. He could be shoveling in more boxes, but why would he do that right now?

Sven gasped for air as he finally realized Elex was no longer standing by the doorway. He grabbed a handful of toilet paper and formed a perfect little nest, because he was surely going to need it. He huffed, hitched and his watering orange eyes rolled into the back of his head before he blew his mess into the handful of paper. “Hh’gsch!! K’GNSH!” Though his sneezes were relatively quiet, not too much to be bothered by the average listener, Elex just barely heard the whispering end of it. He looked up from his phone. The man was a walking question mark symbol as he slowly got up from where he sat and quietly crept closer to the door. “H’tshhkt!! Hppt’CH!” Sven tried muffling them into the now dampening piece of mulched tree, but unfortunately for him, the sound traveled quite fluently in this new home.

Elex was standing at the door, ear pressed tightly against it with one palm flattened beside him to keep him steady, his darkened patchy skin, illuminated a bright pink. Sven was sneezing? Openly? Without him?! Clearly the cat was trying to hide it…but why? What was he so ashamed of? Frankly…his little sounds were quite delightful. He bit his lip before listening in for more.

“Fuck…Nkch! Ngt’ch!! KTCH! Pleeeease…” he tried to reason with the universe to allow him just a smidge of freedom from this darkened, evil curse. This was supposed to be a blissful day. He was supposed to enjoy this new found independence and be able to enjoy his new life with his boyfriend. Not held up in the bathroom sneezing his brains out of his ears. “Hh’gsch!! Hptt’CHHH!”

Elex couldn’t stand it anymore by this point, so he pulled his head back and gently knocked again. “Sven? Come on puss, why you still in there?”

“Go away Lex! I can’t let you…H’GNXT! see me like this…” stifling into his hand, long abandoning the soiled tissue. He couldn’t allow Elex to see him this way, he couldn’t! It was humiliating! The opposite of manly! He couldn’t do it.

“Babe…seriously just open the door,” The badger began to grow impatient. “You either open it, or I knock it the fuck down, pick your poison cause this hiding secrets shit isn’t going to fly with me,” now feeling a bit more grudgeful. Why was the man acting like this? Reserved and hidden? He was usually so passionate and proud! An open book almost, but this was starting to concern the green haired male.

“No! You’re going to laugh at me…” a muffled, insecure voice was heard through the thin wood of the bathroom door. It almost made the Badger soften, almost. That wasn’t like him though.

“Barker, I’ll take ‘Things That’ll Never Fuckin Happen’ for 800 please…Puss, open the damn door,” trying to reason with the other by sprinkling in some light humor, his knuckles still tapping against the wooden material. Eventually, the green haired male heard the click of the lock and the door came slowly creeping open. “Puss?” He called open from his position, before sneaking his head in first.

He saw Sven a mess on the ground, sniveling and sniffing as he rubbed his reddened nostrils, clearly having been fighting a battle in here, surrounded by discarded tissues. “Don’t look at me..” he whimpered with his head hanging low, the loose strands of his aqua hair hiding the disdain behind those glossy orange orbs.

“Oh Puss…” he chuckled shaking his head back and forth, taking a seat next to the smaller. “You sick?” He asked curiously, placing a flat hand on the other’s back and rubbing him lovingly.

“No…I can’t find my Allergy medication…” Sven sighed pitifully, shaking his head slowly back and forth, hugging his knees as he tried his best to starve off what was surely inevitably coming back for more.

“You have allergies too?” Els turned his head, cocking his pierced green brow with curiosity. Surely, he knew the other had some allergens but, so severe? No wonder he never noticed if he was always on meds or stifling….

“Yeah…myself…I’m allergic to MYSELF! K’TCHH!” His face fully vermillion now as he sneezed into the crook of his elbow, trying to avoid a mess across the two of them. Ashamed and embarrassed by his very existence.

“Oh babe…” Elex clicked his tongue and ran his once back rubbing hand, now through the strands of soft colored hair. “What can I do?”

“Not perceive me..SNNDDFF…Nkch!” The quick sniffle to clear his sinuses only made it infinitely worse as he twisted his nose in large circles across his face, then scrunching it with vicious fervor. “Ktch! K’GNSH!”

“Well, that ship has long fuckin’ sailed my face exploding lover, but I can at the very least offer you a distraction,” now bringing both his hands up to massage each of Sven’s shoulders, causing the Cheshire to relax a bit under the touch, his tension slowly melting under Elex’s hands.

“What do you…K’GTCH! Have in mind?” Forcing it out into the palms of his hands as he tried to stay intrigued and engaged within the conversation with Lex, who in turn couldn’t wipe the brightened blushing red hue off his own cheeks.

“Oh you know…” trailing his hand down the front of his boyfriend’s chest, he stopped at his audibly clinky belt, fiddling with the mechanics as he leaned closer into Sven’s soft, orange cat ear. “Suck you senseless?” Starting to work the main belt pieces loose, as it clanked open swiftly with expertise.

“Ng…I might..h’…might quite..nkcht! Enjoy that…actually…sndf,” struggling to make it through his sentence as he grabbed another load off the toilet paper roll, finding it almost needing replacement yet again. Jesus.

Elex licking his lips and swiftly began chewing on his lower lip ring. “I honestly don’t know why you were hiding those sounds from me Sevvy~ I reeeeaaallly enjoy them…” already working his partner’s belt loose from his pants as he slid it out completely and tossed it to the side of the bathroom. “I find it actually…”

“KTCH!” Sven couldn’t hold back another, snapping his hand back up to his face to cover himself, he blushed brightly, his crying eyes now looking over to make contact with Elex’s hungry glare. Whom was bringing his hand back to his mouth.

“Mmm, fairly selfish, that you would hide such an arousing fact about yourself….” Spitting into his palm with a lustful force that made the cat swallow harshly.

“A-Arousing? What are y-you even talking about…Hh’GSCH!” Humbled again, his body shook with the force against the side of Elex’s body, that now hovered him.

“I think you know…Stud,” diving his newly dampened hand into the hem of Sven’s boxers, and taking hold of the other’s hard cock now, Els continued to chew his piercing.

“N-Nuh…uh! Aah~” the aqua haired man tried to argue but it was no use as his pleasure receptors began to buzz and vibrate within his entire body, feeling his boyfriend’s slick hot hand now working his awakening length.

“You’re so shy?? For what reason my strong, handsome, pussy cat? It’s just me…” Lex’s hand twisted expertly, knowing all the right spots to make his normally in charge boyfriend, purr. Els squeezing with lustful power as his digits worked to please him.

“Y-You’re so Lu-lucky I can…t…Hnn..K’gnsh!!” Falling back against the wall, his hair fell beside him, sticking to his slowly dampening temples as his sneezes continued to make him jolt and spray. His nose relentlessly leaked despite how many times he swiped and rubbed at it with the dryer sides of his handful of paper.

“Can’t wait? Toss me around and stick it up my ass? Treat me like the slut I deserve to be?” Snickering lightly into the other’s ear before nipping it playfully, his thumb dipping and teasing at Sven’s aching head.

“Elex…” he moaned loosely, sniffling with soft reserve as his eyes shut tightly. “…Jesus do something with that dirty fucking mouth besides talk shit hm? Sndfff,” snorting back a sneeze, some congestion and a whole lot of vulnerability, Sven took a fistful of Elex’s hair now and dragged him to the space between his legs. “If you’re gonna…hptt’ch!” Using his free hand to brush the leaking fluids from his face. “Be about sucking my dick, then be about it…you foul mouthed whore,” his wet orange gaze now snapped open and narrowed down at the taller of the two, who blinked several times with his multi colored gaze before a devious smirk slid across his lips.

“My pleasure, boss,” settling comfortably between Sven’s thighs, the Badger slowly pulled the cat from behind a wall of boxer and forced open pants. Face to face with it, the green haired man shivered in anticipation, sticking his split pierced tongue out he wrapped it delicately around the head, slipping each side up and down, opposite of each other. This caused the cat to gasp loudly, his grip on the forest locks only tightening.

“Shiiiit…” the warm metal balls rubbing and teasing the ridges of his head was almost enough of a distraction to keep his allergies at bay, but almost doesn’t pay the bills. “K’tchh! Ngt’chh!” Using his free hand like a tissue, though it was already pretty used up and clammy by now, it was all he had. The toilet paper was inconveniently out of reach now. The sounds and scene of his feline boyfriend blowing out, only fueled the naughty badger even more as he spoke once.

“Don’t stop doing that…” Elex now swallowed Sven’s length in one swoop after his plea, slipping the large cock furthest down his throat he could. Taking his right hand he began to fish it inside his own jeans, needing to release at the sight of this. A special occasion, a new secret unlocked. Everyday he learned more and more about the elusive cat and it only drove him further in love with the asshole. His tongue, caressed and hugged around the cat’s length in a whole new way no other without a surgery like his could. It was almost one Sven’s most favorite things about the slightly younger, beside his overall personality. He liked his boys a little, spicy. Sven would loosen his grip upon the other’s hair only to tighten it back up the second his cock would hit the back of his throat.

“H’h…aah~ nn..El…H’tshhkt!! Nkch! Ngsh!” The older of the two cried out gently, his small explosive light sneezes dusting and decorating the space now between them. Cascading down onto Elex’s face causing the badger to moan around the other’s thick length. “I’m-..so…H’NgXt! Nnch! Hah…close…” fighting to at least finish the thought while his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Elex sucking purely on his tip before pushing down again. The taller’s head continued to bob gracefully, each side of his tongue working over time to massage and press at every individual dip and vein. His hand pumping quickly at his own leaking, needy member.

As each second passed, with Elex’s mouth on his cock, and the new found freedom that the other was less than a bully about this exposed secret, his groin tightened. “Elex…” he groaned his lover’s name, pushing his head with each downward suck, he couldn’t take it anymore. The badger was simply too fucking good at pleasing him. His back straightened against the wall and he threw his head up with existential pleasure. Sven came, hard inside the other’s working mouth. His hips stuttered and he forcibly shoved Lex’s throat down almost drowning the other in his explosive seed.

No matter the difference. Els swallowed every drop as his own shaking fist began to stagger and suffer. Trying to keep pace but finding himself lost in ecstasy and before long his efforts were just enough to send him over the edge, filling his boxers with cum. “Fucking shit….” He hissed plopping Sven’s cock from his mouth as a thin white line of fluid dribbling down his chin now. Sven chuckled, watching his mate in the throes of an intense orgasm, he reached over with his thumb and swiped the line of cum from the other’s face. He held his hand there for a moment , caressing the other’s discolored cheek, while Elex tried to catch his breath.

“Sndfff…Thanks…” he huffed, out of breath between the allergy attack and his lover’s mouth.

“For the blowjob? No problem,” chuckling playfully as El now too sat back, but against the lower cabinet of their sink.

“No…for not making fun of me,” he shrugged. “I know it’s one of your favorite past times but…this time it meant a lot that you didn’t,” Sven smiled over at the badger who met him with a cocky grin and a roll of his duo colored eyes.

“Hey I might be an asshole, but I can read a room…plus…you’ve grown on me through the years…I can’t make you wanna kill yourself ALL THE TIME…” chuckling loosely before reaching over and lightly gripping the other’s chin lovingly before letting go.

“Touché…” the cat responded with a carefree smirk and a quick reach to grip, and hold onto Elex’s hand.

“I love ya, Puss, stop keeping secrets, alright?” The badger said softly, his thumb rubbing over the top of Sven’s embracing hand.

“Yeah, alright. I love ya too, kid,” his orange eyes sparkled with slight mischief but overall love for the bratty male.

“Don’t fuckin call me that,” his green and brown eyes shifted to a narrow glare, sizing the other up now and ripping his hand away from Sven’s loving grasp.

“I’ve told you several times to stop calling me puss,” the Cheshire shrugged almost unphased by this sudden mood swing the other was having, since he was always having one.

“Puss is cute! You’re a cat! Kid is fuckin’ weird…makes me feel less manly, stop it,” pouting now, folding his arms across his chest he certainly fit the description more than ever now. It was more or less not helping his case.

“Whatever you say, kid,” shifting slightly the badger jerked forward and slugged the cat in his arm, hard, no holding back, he did not care and there would surely be a bruise the next day. “Ow! You god damn animal!” His voice said stern but his facial expression said bring it, always ready for some rowdy action.

“Yeah well, maybe it’ll teach you to listen! Dick for brains!” Sticking his tongue out with defiance, Elex continued to uphold his protests, folding his arms back up over his chest.

“Zip it, you neanderthal, and get up…help me find my damn meds…Sndfff…” Sven snuffled loudly again and finally began to lift himself off the bathroom floor, extending a hand out to his partner, offering help but was met with a very stubborn badger.

“Maybe I don’t want to…I’ll have you sneezing all over this house for my personal enjoyment,” turning his head swiftly away to avoid looking at his boyfriend, still pouting, crossed up and avoidant.

“There really is something mentally wrong with you,” bringing his hand back in, Sven now also crossed his arms over his chest and slowly shook his head at the very bratty man on the floor in front of him.

“Yes, but you knew this, and still chose to go out with me, so what’s that say about you? Huh Einstein?” Sharply turning his head back to deliver his final argument it actually made the cat shrug his shoulders and nod his head in agreement.

“You make a sincerely valid point, now please help me unpack all this shit…” again, the cat unfolded his arms and reached a hand out to offer, one more time, his mate a lift back up to solid footing.

“That’s better, a please never hurt no one,” finally, Elex took the offering of the cat’s hand, and connected their palms in a hitch. The shorter of the two promptly pulling himself up on to his feet again. Elex subconsciously began to wipe down his pants and wash his hands.

“I fear I may have made a mistake moving in with you….” Looking the other up and down, he sincerely was starting to question whether or not he made a good choice. He did after all move in with an unhinged criminal that he often stood toe to toe with many times through out their childhood together. This surely, was going to be a rollercoaster ride.

The End

Author’s Notes: What better way to break in the new couple than some smutty snz action. I hope you all enjoyed the new OCs and their sexy, slightly abusive and toxic dynamic. 🫠🫠🫠 I’m sorry y’all we needed something with a bit more umpf. Elex is so BabyGirl 🤭🤭 he just won’t ever admit it 🤪