#her pride i guess the way she carries herself

[linkspooky]

wip wednesday

Updated WIP for my Azulaang fic.

The worst part was that Aang had found her beautiful. Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl.  Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh.What he'd thought was a blazing inferno that burned everything that touched her was a gentle warmth that permeated her skin. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation black and red armor. A beautiful girl. 

It was tradition in this household to cleanse one’s body before being let into the spiritual archives. Aang respected tradition, even if spiritualism in the fire nation was different from the air nomads. 

(He also needed a bath, running away from conflict worked up quite a sweat). Step by step, he followed the little footpath of smooth, colorful pebbles under the luxuriant canopy of flowering wisteria blossoms until he found the entrance to the bath. Inside the changing room a low shelf carved from the bluestone had been placed to hold the bather’s clothes. In his eagerness to get into the water on a cold winter day (by fire nation standards) he failed to notice two other tubs packed with clothing sitting on the shelf. Aang took off his clothing, it was easy to get undressed with the simple way airbenders dressed. Imagine how many layers Zuko had to take off to bathe, especially with those huge shoulde roads.  He left his clothes in a wooden washtub, and after lifting the thin hemp curtain with one hand strode inside. 

Stream drifted through the air, it gently unfurled out from the pool, drifting slowly, filling every corner and crevice blurring his vision.  With that and the dim moonlight it was difficult to see more than a few shuka in front of you. It gave the baths a spiritual aura, like he’d stepped in the river that separated this world from the far shore.Flowers bloomed along the borders of the pool, their shed petals floated on the surface, and there was a small waterfall at the end of the pond for rinsing. 

It was pleasantly warm. Aang couldn't help the soft sigh of content that escaped him. He felt like a kid again bathing in the air temple hot springs with the other children. He let loose for a moment, extending his slender limbs and swimming all the way to the waterfall with a splash. 

Just as he rose from the water and wiped his face, he noticed someone was already showering in the surging waterfall with their back turned.

Lio. Aang should have known better to watch Lio from someplace unseen like a total stalker creep weirdo, but he stopped to watch their back as if possessed by some kind of spell. 

Their back was held tall and straight, the contours sharp and defined. But with the stars illuminating the steam Aang could make out countless scars, burn scars, and what looked to be whip marks on the center of their back. A body full of wounds. A body full of scars. So many it was impossible to find a piece of untouched flesh. 

There was no need to mention how much those wounds should hurt. 

Water fell down from above almost as if to cool off those burns, cascading over their body, rivulets gathering into a stream down the wide expanse of their back, down the valleys and peaks of their intricately carved muscles and finally into the divet between their buttocks. The water seemed infatuated with their body, clinging to them in a light stream that was loath to part. 

Lio’s head turned halfway to meet Aang’s gaze, just as Aang jerked his head up to preserve some of Lio’s dignity, “Hey, Aangie have you come to do some naked male bonding?”

“My best features are my back and my butt? What do you think, Aangie?”

Lio said , strode out from under the waterfall and pressed his hands on the rock wall blocking everything behind his massive back from view. 

That back took up Aang’s entire view. Their hair had grown out and fell in black, wild tangles just past their shoulder. Those shoulder blades slid down the small of their back. Aang’s esys followed the downward curve of their spine, their full and firm buttocks, and eyes ficxed on those fair plump curves for a moment because his head jerked up again. . “I think you are uh, very attractive, and you are connvingly using your attractiveness to try to distract me from asking about how you got that scar on your back.”

“Oh, I was a naughty boy and I was whipped before I was banished. It’s nothing… compared to the trouble I caused Li and my family back then it was absolutely nothing.” .” 

“Your pain isn’t nothing.” “Haha, what pretty words. Did the airbenders teach you to talk that way, or are you just that cheesy naturally?” Lio noticed Aang’s wince at the mention of the airbenders, “I’m sorry, Aangie, baby. I’m a bad, rude man. I just don’t like you looking at me like I’m some poor dying animal you found on the side of the road.” 

Lio’ s shoulder’s rose and fell, as they heaved a sigh. They weren’t some broken thing, it was easy to see the lean strength in those lines. Those shoulder blades were strong and massive, moving beneath the scarred skin. 

At that moment all Aang could think of was how adult Lio looked, even though they were only two years older. It wasn’t just the enormous height, it was the comfort they displayed wearing their own body, it was enough to make Aang feel like a fucking child in comparison. 

Graceful Lio suddenly gracelessly lost their balance and fell a step back from the wall. Lio quickly turned around, still hiding something behind their back, “I’m sorry Aangie, can we continue this conversation later? I thought we could bond in our nakedness, but human relationships aren’t so simple.”

Aang caught sight of it then, a smaller, curvier figure trying to slip away into the steam just then. Oh. Li mentioned Lio wanted to get married. Aang walked in on both of them in the bath. Mix gender bathing was normal in the fire nation, he told himself. Completely normal.

He caught sight of a feminine figure through the steam turning to leave. He didn’t initially recognize her - because under normal circumstances, that girl would never do something as ungraceful as stumbling and falling face first into the pool, sending a spray of water into the air. 

“Lazuli, watch your step.” One hand around Azula’s arm, Lio supported her from behind. The difference in their heights was such that their breath puffed against Azula’s ear as they lowered their head to speak, “If you’re not careful you might just fall for me.” 

“Cough, cough.” Azula inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water in her panic. Swallowing bathwater she became indignant and disgusted discarding all appearance of calm composure, scrambling and flailing as she tried to find her footing.

Aang saw Azula, it was the closest he’d ever seen her, she looked quite different than when she had appeared on the opposite side of a battlefield. Aang saw Azula, but his brain refused to process the image. He wanted to ask what she was doing here, but it got stuck in his throat. He suddenly felt pathetic and spineless. Silence only continued to fan the flames of the situation. 

Aula naked and exposed. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different.

He couldn’t look away. Even though his brain registered she was naked. When people shed their clothes and exposed themselves they usually exposed their inner ugliness, but Azula was different. The horrfiyng part, of this situation wasn’t that he’d humiliated Azula completely by accident. No, the true horror had been something that should not have even been possible. Something that would make a clown like Lio laugh.  The unsettling horror of it all was that Aang had found her beautiful.

Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl. 

Until now, he’d believed Azula hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. Now he saw her soft flesh. The girl that had always been hiding underneath the fire nation army. 

A beautiful girl. It wasn’t something as perverted as being attracted to her naked body, it was just seeing the naked truth finally in front of his eyes, that Azula was a girl not yet fully mature barely older than him. Though it was sacreligious to compare her to Katara, it was like the first time he woke up to Katara’s face. It was different from Katara though, because she was lacking many of the qualities one would typically ascribe to ‘beauty’. 

When she was fourteen years old she was certainly eye catching in a dangerous way. Now she’d lost a lot of her ‘beauty’ from when she was fourteen. He wouldn’t call her skin pale in a way that evoked purity, or compare it to porcelain, she looked almost physically ill. She wasn’t thin, or lithe, but emaciated. There were dark rings that eclipsed her sun-colored eyes. She was like a plucked flower withering away within a bell jar, and yet, there was something about her. Something so… 

“Why are you staring, avatar? Have you not gone any farther than hand holding with your little water tribe girlfriend?” Something so…“...Beautiful.” 

He should not have said it. He should not have acknowledged that feeling. These were feelings he wasn’t supposed to have because Azula was… well, Azula. 

“What is it…? Speak clearly, don’t mumble, and look into the eyes of the person you’re talking to.” “Err… beautiful…” “Is your mouth broken? Oh no, I believe I broke the avatar. Again.” He confessed again. “I’m staring because you’re beautiful.” “You’re right, I am beautiful. I guess your eyes aren’t broken.” She was… She was definitely still Azula. Whatever had happened in the three months since he last saw her hadn’t changed her fundamental “Azula-Ness.” Then his sight of Azula was cut off as Lio pulled Azula close to them, stepping in front of her to obscure most of Aang’s view. 

Aang had several questions, but the first one that jumped to mind when he saw the two of them acting so close was, “Why are you bathing with Lio?”

“Mixed bathing is normal, and besides I’d never stare at a girl to make her uncomfortable. I’m a beautiful girl myself, and you don’t know how many creeps have stared at me, ” Lio said. 

That’s right, mixed bathing was normal in fire nation culture Aang reminded himself for the thousandth time. 

Bathing under the stars. Girls and boys together. No tension there whatsoever. Nope, not at all. 

Azula looked at Aang, “There’s nothing untoward about bathing with my betrothed.” “...Your betrothed.” “Yes.” “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” “To who?” “To Lio.” “You’re getting married to Lio.” “Can you not hear me? I thought those big ears of yours would at least be good for listening.” 

“Are my ears too big? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Were they just trying to be nice?” He was suddenly, very self conscious about the size of his ears but that was besides the point. “Why are you getting married to Lio?” “I fail to see how it’s any business of yours.” That’s right it wasn’t any business of his. 

So, why did he care? 

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[punkitt-is-here]

Had to write a three-page screenplay script for a "Discovery" for class. Didn't have any further instructions. It's super off-the-cuff, but I wanted to share it. Happy pride <3

INT. COLLEGE DORM - NIGHT.

A college student sits at his desk, sketching. It's a one room apartment, and his roommate is sound asleep. He's sketching in the light of a single lamp, being quiet. The student, GABE (male, 19) is drawing a cartoon version of himself. He's studying outfits from a fashion catalogue, drawing himself in different ones. He bites the tip of his pencil, not feeling the piece he's working on. He rolls his chair back, reeling away from the desk. Gabe puts his hands in his hair, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He lets out a long exhale. It's late.

After a moment, he rolls back to the desk. Tapping the pencil to his head, he flips through the pages. It's an unremarkable task, stopping on a random page. Oh, the women's fashion section. It has simple, practical outfits for girls, including a jean skirt. Gabe peers at it. Fuck it, it's late. He erases the pants of one of his drawings and pencils in a skirt instead.

He pauses.

He stares at it.

Something here is weird.

He goes to erase it, but once he does, he just draws it in again. This time with more care. More detail. He stares at it again.

Tears well up in his eyes.

GABE

(whispering)

…what the fuck?

Gabe, confused, touches his hand to his eye. He looks at the tear on his finger. Huh? He stares at the drawing again. He looks back at his roommate, sound asleep. He's having some sort of moment, but he has to be quiet. He frantically looks back at his sketchbook.

GABE

(whispering)

Uh…

A beat.

Gabe starts drawing himself again. In the women's fashion this time. It's like a whole different world. He's drawing like crazy. It's all flowing out of him. He draws another.

And another. Slowly, details start to adjust in his art.

Longer hair. Longer eyelashes. Daintier poses. More smiles.

He's got tears running down his face, but he's not wearing any emotion. He's not sure what to think.

CUT TO

An indeterminate amount of time later. Gabe stares at his notebook. It's full. It's lots of drawings of him.

As…well, he guesses as a girl. But he's not one. He flips through the book again, then turns towards the dark window his desk resides next to. He looks at himself. Patchy facial hair and a shaggy haircut.

CUT TO

INT. DORM HALLWAY - NIGHT

Gabe rushes down the hallway, looking frantic. He's carrying a bag.

INT. DORM BATHROOM - NIGHT

It's quiet inside the bathroom. No one else occupies the space. It's just him and his reflection. His reflection? Maybe their reflection. Her reflection? No, that's not right. Is it right? Gabe stares at himself intently. The whirring of a trimmer cuts through the silence. He brings it up to his facial hair, shearing away a week's worth of fuzz.

He looks at himself like it's not him in the mirror. He holds a hand up to his face, feeling it.

It's not enough. Not yet. He has to know.

He gets out his phone and starts typing.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFHG

He frantically types, misspelling. He backspaces like his life depends on it.

HOW TO SHAVE FACIAL HAIR OFF ALL

THE WAY

He quickly scans an article and then gets to work, pulling some miscellaneous bathroom supplies out of his bag. Shaving cream. A razor. Gifts for cleaning up at college. He wets his face. Applies the shaving cream. Does careful strokes down his cheeks and neck. Slowly, someone reveals themselves.

They lean down, splashing themselves with water. They look up, and it's a different person. She's completely shaved her facial hair off. Gabe hasn't seen herself like this since she was in freshman year of high school, before facial hair was even an option. She reaches up and touches her face, smooth to the touch. She stares, enamored. A moment. She grabs a towel and dries her face off, and then looks again. She's so…different. But that's her! That's Gabe! Is it Gabe? She doesn't know anymore. A close up to her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. Her neck. It's all so new. She starts laughing. She laughs, and tears well up in her eyes a little. She laughs some more. In moments, she's full on crying tears of joy. She doesn't know why. But she is! That's her!

CUT TO

INT. SECONDHAND - DAY

Gabe is at a clothing rack, searching for something. She looks around, a little embarrassed. She browses for a moment before finding what she wants. She passes by some more racks carefully, trying not to be too obvious. She slips into the changing room, then locks the door.

GABE

…okay.

Gabe unbuckles her belt. In a moment, she's wearing black leggings. She hikes them up, then unclips a gaudy skirt from the clothes-hanger. She stares at it, a little scared of it and what it represents. She bites her lip. She stretches it out and then steps in. She looks up at the mirror.

Oh shit, that's her! That's her!

Gabe is wearing a long, patterned skirt and a tee-shirt. The colors don't match at all, and the patterns don't either.

She looks a bit like a yard sale of a person. But it's her!

She spins around, watching the fabric flow out from her hips in a whirlwind of stripes and insignia. She laughs again.

This is her! This is her!

This is her!

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: ART INSTALLATION

paige x azzi

word count: 4.5k

A/N: This one is short because I was about to crash out earlier and I didn’t want you guys to feel the effects of my own personal crash out so I wrote somethin short to keep it cute. I hope you enjoy 🥹🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

Paige was the perfect girlfriend to Azzi. At least, she tried to be. Anything Azzi wanted—or even thought about wanting—Paige made sure she had it. Whether it was a rare pair of sneakers she mentioned in passing, a book collection, a favorite meal after a tough practice, or a night in when the weight of the world felt too heavy, Paige anticipated it all. It wasn’t just about being thoughtful; it was about proving, in every way she could, that Azzi was her priority.

Anytime Azzi needed help, needed support, needed anything, Paige was there. A bad game? Paige had a motivational playlist waiting and all the right words to get Azzi out of her head.. A bad day? Paige would drop everything to sit by her side, holding her hand until Azzi's world felt steady again. Paige prided herself on it. She knew how lucky she was to have someone like Azzi—brilliant, beautiful, and steady in a way that anchored her.

But more than that, Paige loved Azzi. She loved her so deeply it used to scare her sometimes. Paige would give her the world if she asked for it. And, truthfully, even if Azzi didn’t ask, Paige would find a way to give it to her. Azzi deserved everything good life had to offer, and Paige felt like it was her job to make sure she had it.

But Paige was also human. And everyone messes up sometimes.

Right now, Paige was with Ice and KK, headed to Crumbl to grab cookies; it had become their post-practice tradition during the summer session. The car was filled with laughter, teasing, and the playlist Paige had made for when she had the two of them in the car together.

When they pulled into the Crumbl parking lot, Paige left her phone behind as it was tucked in the center console. The device was still connected to the aux, as they hopped out of the car locking the door. She didn’t think twice about it—she was in the moment, caught up in Ice’s ongoing debate about which cookie flavor was best and KK’s roasting Ice about her questionable taste.

Inside the store, they spent too much time deliberating, as always. Ice insisted they try every new flavor, while Paige argued for sticking to the classics. KK suggested they just buy the entire menu and let the team fight over the leftovers. Paige rolled her eyes but laughed, knowing she was going to pay for whatever they decided on.

When they finally left, their arms full of the signature pink boxes, the energy carried back into the car. Paige slid into the driver’s seat, pushing the button to start the car, and let the music pick up right where they’d left off. Because of this she didn’t even glance at her phone. She didn’t know there was anything waiting for her.

What she didn’t see were the seven texts Azzi had sent her. Or the three missed calls.

Azzi’s messages had started casually enough:

Azzi 💗: Hey, where are you?

Azzi 💗: I miss you

Azzi 💗: We’re still going on our date tonight right?

But when Paige didn’t respond, the tone had shifted.

Azzi 💗: Everything okay baby?

Azzi 💗: Well I guess that’s a no to the date

Azzi 💗: I’ve been calling you.

The final text was the simplest but carried the weight of Azzi’s unease.

Azzi 💗: Paige?

Paige had no idea about any of this as she was sitting in the car with Ice and KK, parked outside Crumbl, sampling the cookies they’d just bought. KK had decided to go live on TikTok, propping her phone up in the center of the console so all three of them were visible. Paige and Ice were in the front, while KK sat in the back, leaning forward between their seats to give commentary on each flavor.

“Okay, y’all, this one’s chocolate peanut butter—Paige said she doesn’t like peanut butter, but she’s gonna try it anyway, so let’s see,” KK said into the camera, her energy always infectious.

“I’m not gonna like it, KK,” Paige replied, rolling her eyes but taking a bite. Ice snorted beside her, already digging into another cookie.

The live chat was buzzing with comments from fans, with people dropping in to talk about the team, tease KK, or ask random questions about their day. They scrolled by so quickly that it was impossible to catch all of them, but KK seemed to catch enough to keep her audience engaged as she responded to some of them.

Then, suddenly, something popped up on the screen that made KK’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my god,” KK gasped dramatically, smacking Paige’s shoulder. “It’s Azzi Fudd! We got a celebrity here y’all!”

Paige froze for a split second before a small, involuntary smile spread across her lips. Her girlfriend’s name sat at the bottom of the screen, her tiny profile picture next to it. Paige tried to play it cool, brushing off KK’s excitement with a casual shrug, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

“Oh my god, it’s really Azzi Fudd I feel so cool,” KK repeated, leaning closer to the camera. “Hey, Azzi! What’s up, girly pop?”

Ice chimed in, laughing. “Azzi, you better send us some cowboy hats or something. Donate to the cause!”

Paige chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on the screen. Seeing Azzi’s name made her heart flutter, but she kept her reaction subtle. She didn’t want to make it obvious—not on a live stream with fans watching.

“Hey, Az,” Paige said quietly, her tone soft but unmistakably fond. She didn’t say more, instead breaking off another piece of cookie to distract herself.

But just as quickly as Azzi’s name appeared, it was gone. She had left the live.

“Damn, she left already?” KK frowned, leaning closer to her phone. “Azzi, where’d you go?”

Before anyone could speculate further, the car’s music abruptly stopped, and Siri’s voice echoed through the speakers:

“Incoming call from Azzi.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and all three of them froze. Paige’s eyes went wide, and Ice’s head whipped toward her, her mouth dropping open.

KK, of course, was the first to react to not make it obvious. “Oh my god, Paige!” she yelled, grabbing Ice’s arm. “It’s Azzi Fudd calling!”

The live chat exploded. Comments started flooding in:

“AZZI IS CALLING HER OMG!!!”

“Paige’s girl is calling during the live? 👀”

“Not Siri exposing Paige rn 😭😭😭.”

Paige’s face turned bright red as she scrambled to unplug her phone from the aux cord. Trying to make Siri and the ringtone stop blaring through the car’s speakers.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige mumbled, grabbing her phone and quickly stepping out of the car.

As soon as the door shut behind her, KK leaned into the live, absolutely giddy. “Y’all, Paige just got a very important phone call. Like, the most important phone call ever.” She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

Ice burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Man, Siri really just put her on blast like that.”

The two of them were always bad at being subtle when it came to Paige and Azzi.

The moment Paige stepped out of the car, she pressed her phone to her ear, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Hey baby, what’s up?” she greeted, trying to sound casual, though her heart raced slightly.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me,” Azzi said, her tone a little sharper than it usually is with Paige.

Paige’s smile faltered as her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’d I do?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “What day is it?”

Paige froze, her stomach sinking as she tried to think about it. She pulled her phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen, her eyes locking on the date. Her heart dropped.

“Shit,” Paige muttered under her breath. Bringing the phone back to her ear, she spoke quickly, panic lacing her voice. “Baby, I’m so sorry—”

“What the hell, Paige?” Azzi cut her off, her voice reflecting her clear frustration. “We’ve had this planned for like two weeks!”

“I know, I know,” Paige stammered, running a hand through her hair. “I’m so sorry, Az. This week’s just been so hectic, I lost track of everything.”

“Yeah, clearly,” Azzi replied dryly. There was a pause before she added, her voice quieter but the hurt was still clear, “We talked about this, Paige. We’re supposed to be making time for stuff like this at least once a month.”

Paige closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. “Look, I know I messed up, but we can still do it. I can come back now, and we’ll make it work—”

“No,” Azzi interrupted. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

“Az, come on,” Paige pleaded, her voice softening. “You don’t wanna at least try?”

“No,” Azzi repeated, her tone a little colder. “I don’t really want to hang out with you anymore.”

Paige’s chest tightened at the words, her voice breaking slightly as she said, “Az, I’ll come back now, okay? We can at least grab some food, just—”

“I said no,” Azzi cut in again, her voice now tinged with exhaustion. “It’s fine. I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Paige blinked, disbelief and hurt mingling in her expression. “Are you for real, Az?”

“Yes,” Azzi replied simply.

Paige exhaled shakily, leaning against the car as she struggled to find the right words. Finally, she whispered, “I’m sorry, baby. I love you.”

There was a long pause on the other end before Azzi said quietly, “It’s whatever. I love you too.” And then the call ended.

Paige stared at her phone for a moment, the weight of Azzi’s tone settling in her chest. She let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down her face before slowly making her way back to the car.

When Paige climbed back into the car, the energy inside was completely different from the heavy weight she felt in her chest. KK and Ice were still on live, chatting animatedly with the viewers, their excitement from the earlier interaction with Azzi carrying on.

“Y’all, these cookies are fire!” KK exclaimed, holding up a bitten piece of cookie to the phone camera. She leaned over the middle console so everyone could see her better. “This one tastes like a cinnamon roll! Oh, wait, let me show you the chocolate one!”

Ice laughed from the passenger seat, leaning her head back against the headrest. “You’re gonna eat all of them before we get back, KK.”

“Nah, I’m saving at least one for later,” KK replied, grinning. She glanced at Paige. “Right, P Boogers?”

But Paige didn’t answer. She quietly buckled her seatbelt, her eyes flicking to the live chat on KK’s phone. Comments were flying in.

“Paige doesn’t look as happy anymore.”

“What happened to P? She was smiling before she left.”

“Azzi called, right? She’s so quiet now.”

Paige quickly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. She didn’t say a word as she started the car, her jaw clenched.

The mood in the car shifted slightly as KK and Ice exchanged a glance. They noticed Paige’s sudden change in demeanor, but with the live still running, they chose not to address it, not wanting to draw attention to her.

Instead, KK kept the conversation light, talking about the cookies and teasing Ice about stealing bites from the box. Paige barely registered any of it, her mind replaying Azzi’s voice over and over again. She had never done anything like this.

It wasn’t until Paige made an unexpected turn that KK finally spoke up. “Uh, where we going, P Boogers?” she asked, glancing at the unfamiliar road.

Paige shook her head and mumbled, “I just gotta pick something up real quick.”

KK furrowed her brows but didn’t push further, keeping the live running for a few more minutes as they joked about Ice trying to eat another cookie. But when they pulled up to a flower shop, the sign out front indicating it was about to close, KK finally ended the live.

“Yo, why are we here?” Ice asked, leaning forward to look out the window.

Paige didn’t respond, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car. The florist inside looked up as Paige walked through the door, her face lighting up in recognition.

“Paige!” the woman greeted warmly. “You’re just in time. What can I get for you today?”

Paige managed a faint smile, her voice soft. “Hey Julia. Do you have any of those fresh lilies I like? And maybe some lavender?”

“Of course,” the florist replied, quickly gathering the requested flowers into a beautiful bouquet. Paige waited in silence, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she stared down at the counter.

Once she had the flowers, Paige thanked the florist and headed back to the car. The door shut behind her with a soft thud, and for a moment, the car was silent.

Now that the live was over, KK and Ice no longer held back. KK leaned forward between the seats, concern etched across her face. “Alright, P Boogers. What’s wrong?”

Paige shook her head, setting the bouquet gently on the console between her and Ice. “Nothing. I just... I forgot me and Azzi had plans to go see this art installation tonight,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with guilt.

“Oh,” KK said softly, sitting back. She exchanged a look with Ice, who frowned.

Paige sighed, gripping the steering wheel but not starting the car yet. “She’s mad. Like... really mad. I didn’t even realize what day it was.”

Ice placed a hand on Paige’s arm, her voice gentle. “P, it’s not the end of the world. She’ll understand.”

Paige shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line not really wanting to talk about it.

KK and Ice didn’t say anything else, choosing instead to give Paige a moment. The three of them sat in silence for a few beats before Paige finally started the car

When Paige got back to Azzi's dorm room, the weight of her guilt settled in her chest. The door creaked softly as she stepped inside, her eyes immediately finding Azzi lying on her bed, curled on her side, her face partially buried in her pillow. Paige’s heart sank when she noticed the faint redness around Azzi’s eyes, a clear sign she’d been crying. The sight was almost unbearable.

Paige hesitated for a moment before walking over to the bed. She crouched down in front of Azzi, holding the bouquet of flowers in one hand while reaching out with the other to brush a gentle thumb across Azzi’s cheek. But Azzi turned her head away from the touch, her silence speaking volumes. Paige’s throat tightened.

“Come on, baby,” Paige said softly, her voice almost pleading. “I’m sorry.”

When Azzi didn’t respond, Paige sighed deeply and stood up. She placed the flowers on Azzi’s desk, their vibrant colors a deep contrast to the heavy tension in the room. Paige lingered for a moment before deciding to climb onto the bed, trying to wrap an arm around Azzi, but the moment her hand brushed against her side, Azzi finally spoke, her tone low but firm.

“I wanna sleep alone tonight.”

Paige froze, her hand stilling mid-motion. She groaned softly, running a hand down her face. “Azzi, come on. I don’t know what else I can do. I promise I’ll make it up to you—”

“I don’t want it to be made up,” Azzi cut her off, her voice cracking just slightly at the end.

Paige swallowed hard, guilt stabbing at her again. She knew Azzi was hurt, but she also knew her girlfriend, the way her stubbornness could amplify her emotions. Azzi wasn’t usually like this, and Paige had never messed up like this, and that only made the situation worse. Paige sat back, unsure of what to say or do, feeling like she was failing in real-time.

Azzi rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her voice softened but still carried an edge. “Paige, you do so much for me. You really do, and I love you for it. But tonight wasn’t about flowers or gifts. It was supposed to be about us. Just us.” She paused, exhaling shakily. “And it feels like... like everything else in your life is more important than me.”

“That’s not true,” Paige said quickly, her voice tightening as she shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” Azzi’s gaze finally met Paige’s, her eyes glistening. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Paige’s jaw dropped slightly, incredulity flashing across her face. “Azzi, come on. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Azzi sat up abruptly, her eyebrows raising. “Don’t curse at me, Paige.”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean it like that. But you’re not being reasonable right now.”

Azzi’s expression darkened as she folded her arms across her chest. “Excuse me?”

“I know I messed up, Az,” Paige said quickly, her voice softening again, trying to keep the situation from spiraling. “And I’m so, so sorry for that. I know I’m not usually like this. I know you count on me. But for you to say I don’t prioritize you?” Paige shook her head, her voice rising slightly. “That’s crazy.”

Azzi’s voice rose to match hers. “No, what’s crazy is you being on live with KK and Ice, laughing and eating cookies, when we were supposed to have our night. The one night we get every month, Paige.”

Paige stared at her, her frustration mounting. “Az, you act like I don’t care about us. I’m always thinking about you, no matter where I am. Do you know how many nights I’ve spent in hotel rooms, sending you flowers, texting you, calling you, because I’m trying to show you that I’m still here? That I love you?”

“And I appreciate that, Paige. I really do. But I don’t want flowers from across the country. I don’t want texts and calls while you’re in L.A. or New York or wherever the hell else you are. I want you. I want you here.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over, her voice breaking slightly. "I’m here right now, Az, and now you’re telling me you don’t want me here?"

Azzi, lying on the bed, didn’t even look at her as she replied, “Because I’m not really in the mood to be an afterthought right now.”

Paige stood, running her hands through her hair. “Are you serious, bro? You’re not an afterthought, you know that.”

Azzi let out a sharp laugh, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, what else do you call it when the only reason you’re here is because I pointed out that you forgot about tonight?”

“I forgot, Azzi! I forgot! Once in four years!” Paige’s voice cracked, exasperation bleeding through. “And you’re acting like it’s the end of the world, like I don’t love you. I promised I’d make it up to you—what more do you want from me?”

Azzi sat up slightly, her expression still cool but her words quieter. “I don’t want to argue, Paige. We don’t argue, we never have and we’re not about to start now. So just… come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Not okay, Paige!” Paige mimicked with frustration, pacing a few steps before stopping herself, taking a deep breath. “You clearly disagree, so just say that. Talk to me and tell me how you feel.”

Azzi shook her head, looking away. “I don’t want to argue with you. Just go for now. I need some space.”

Paige sighed deeply, rubbing at her temples before walking back to the bed. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s temple. Her voice softened, though still laced with frustration. “I love you. I’m sorry, Az. I really am.”

Azzi looked up at her briefly, her voice subdued. “I love you too… I’m just mad right now.”

Paige chuckled dryly, standing up. “Yeah, I got that.” As she walked to the door, she gestured lazily toward the flowers on the desk. “You should put those in water before they wilt.”

Azzi didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the wall as Paige stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Paige leaned against the door for a moment, exhaling deeply, before heading back to her own room.

…

When Azzi got back to her room after hanging out with Caroline the next day, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide. The room was completely covered in flowers. Vases, bouquets—there were everywhere, sitting on her desk, lined up on the floor, spilling over onto her nightstand. The sight was so absurd that Azzi couldn’t help but laugh, her frustration from the night before melting away with each step she took into the floral jungle.

Shaking her head, she walked to her bed, where a single notecard sat propped up against one of the bouquets. She picked it up and immediately recognized the messy scrawl of her girlfriend’s handwriting:

Az, I’m so sorry. I really don’t know how else to show it besides this. Please just get ready and I’ll pick you up at 6. Wear the outfit I got you for yesterday.

Azzi stared at the note for a long moment, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. She ran her fingers over the paper, then glanced around the room again, still laughing softly at the overwhelming display of Paige’s apology.

“God, she’s so extra,” Azzi muttered to herself, but the fondness in her voice for the annoying girl she loved was there.

With a sigh, she set the card down and headed to her closet to find the outfit Paige had mentioned.

Later that night, Paige showed up at Azzi’s door with yet another bouquet of flowers in her hand—a massive arrangement of deep red roses. Azzi snorted as she opened the door, shaking her head.

“I really don’t have any more room,” she teased, stepping aside to let Paige in. “I’ve been giving them out all day.”

Paige chuckled, setting the flowers down before pulling Azzi into a hug, burying her face against her neck. “I’m sorry, Az,” she murmured, her voice full of regret. She squeezed her tightly, trying to convey just how much she meant it.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Paige’s waist, and she whispered back, “It’s okay, baby.”

They pulled back just enough to share a gentle kiss before heading out together.

In the car, a comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only comes from knowing someone so completely. Soft music played in the background as Azzi absentmindedly toyed with Paige’s hand, which rested over her lap. Paige glanced at her every so often, her heart swelling at how content Azzi looked now, her earlier frustration with her nowhere in sight.

When they finally pulled up to the building where the art installation had been displayed, Azzi furrowed her brows in confusion. “What are we doing here,” she said, glancing at Paige with a questioning look.

Paige gave her that familiar toothless smile, the one that always made Azzi’s heart flutter. “Come on,” she said, hopping out of the car and quickly walking around to open Azzi’s door.

Hand in hand, they approached the entrance. A man in a suit opened the door for them without a word, simply smiling as they stepped inside.

Azzi froze the moment she entered, her jaw dropping as her eyes scanned the space. The installation was still there—all of it. Every piece of art she’d been so excited to see, now illuminated in the quiet, empty space.

Her gaze snapped to Paige, her expression filled with disbelief. “Paige what… how is this still here? They’re supposed to have everything at the next location already for tomorrow.”

Paige shrugged, her casual demeanor a stark contrast to the magnitude of what she’d done. That small, toothless grin reappeared as she said simply, “I rented it for you.”

Azzi blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You rented the art installation?”

Paige nodded like it was nothing, like this wasn’t an extravagant, over-the-top, completely expensive gesture. “Yeah,” she said. “Figured we could have it all to ourselves.”

Azzi stared at her for a long moment, her heart full as she tried to find the words to respond. She didn’t need to, though, because the way Paige was looking at her—completely and utterly smitten—said everything that needed to be said.

“Paige,” Azzi finally managed, her voice soft, almost overwhelmed, “you’re insane, you know that?”

Paige laughed, tugging her further into the space. “I know. But I’m your kind of insane, right?”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Unfortunately.”

Paige grinned, throwing an arm around Azzi’s shoulders as they began strolling through the exhibit. The space was quiet, just the hum of soft background music accompanying their footsteps.

As they stopped in front of a vivid painting, Azzi started explaining its history, rattling off random background knowledge with ease. Paige didn’t know how Azzi kept so much information tucked away in her head, but she didn’t care. She just watched her, smiling softly, soaking in the way Azzi lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about.

When Azzi finally noticed Paige’s gaze lingering on her, she smiled, nudging her gently. “What?”

“Nothing,” Paige said as she shrugged playfully. “You’re just kinda cute when you’re being all smart and stuff.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her cheeks tinted pink. They kept moving through the space, stopping to admire sculptures and installations. Eventually, Azzi broke the silence, her tone soft and a little vulnerable.

“This is much better than yesterday would’ve been,” she admitted. “We wouldn’t have been able to be this close in a room filled with all of those people.” She glanced at Paige, her eyes warm but tinged with a little guilt. “I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.”

Paige stopped walking, turning to face her fully. Her hand cupped Azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently along her skin. “You deserve everything and I’m the sorry one,” she said, her voice steady and filled with conviction.

Before Azzi could respond, Paige leaned in, pulling her into a slow, tender kiss. It was the kind of kiss that spoke louder than any words ever could, filled with love, forgiveness, and a promise to always be there for one another.

When they finally pulled apart, Azzi let out a soft laugh, resting her forehead against Paige’s. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“Yet, here you are still my girlfriend after all these years.” Paige teased, smirking.

“Here I am,” Azzi echoed, smiling.

The two of them continued their private tour, hand in hand, stealing kisses between pieces of art and basking in the quiet intimacy of the night Paige had created just for them.

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her Princess

Part one

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 1.6k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

Part One

- Princess Ras, you are invited to the throne room.

 I knew this was going to happen. I was informed about this three nights ago, but my heart still did not believe that my own family would do this to me. Of course, we were not an ideal family, but rather the most ordinary, aristocratic one. With an infinitely angry and indifferent mother who hated her daughter, with a tyrannical father who, like the mother, did not participate in the child's life in any way because of his busy schedule and unwillingness. It seemed to me that we were not a bad family anyway. I guess I was just imagining it.

 I got out of bed, straightening my clothes.

I was wearing a light burgundy dress, the hems of which moved from any wind current, it was spectacular, just the kind I needed. And also, more importantly, it was in the colors of the Medard clan. I wanted my parents to realize that I knew. I knew what was going to happen today. But, nevertheless, I forced them to make that cherished speech on their own, looking straight into my eyes.

As I walked along the corridor, I took one last look around my ancestral mansion. There was no fear inside, I knew I wouldn't be killed or tortured. Firstly, I am quite a valuable exhibit because of my abilities. Secondly, I would kill myself faster than anyone would want to bring me harm. I will not allow myself to die at the hands of the Medard clan. Never in my life will I allow it. I will not give such joy.

 A flame of hatred burned inside me with every step I took. Each heel strike against the marble floor was accompanied by a strengthening of inner resolve.

 Disappointment at what they'd done to me. It hardened me even more, preventing me from crying or fleeing. Rather, it pushed me to think of new ideas for revenge.

 I felt more and more confident, clutching the amulet around my neck that I'd inherited from my late grandmother. It carried no magical potential, but when I touched it, I felt myself fill with the strength to go on. To go on, no matter what. 

Already standing at the door, I was brimming with determination. No blade, no arrow, no word could break me, shake my confidence.

-Princess Ros. - I entered the hall with my head held high and shoulders squared. I wore a mask of infinite calm on my face.

 The room was quiet. There were no whispers, no sighs. There was no sound at all, even the ever-noisy clock mechanism was silent, and no candles crackled in the candelabra. Everything froze, as if at a funeral.

 The clack of my heels was like a hammer hammering nails into a coffin lid. I stopped in front of my parents, who were now sitting on the throne. But this time I didn't bow, just stared at them as if they were dirt under my feet. In fact, they were now. I had lost all respect for them, and even the thought of bowing to them made me gag. From this moment on, they were no longer my family.

 Behind me I felt Medard's warriors, led by Umbressa herself. I could almost physically feel their gaze. Uncomprehending, even stunned by my antics. I wanted to shrink and cower under the oppression, but I could not allow myself to do so.

 I looked at my father, who opened and closed his mouth, staring at my clothes in shock. It was beautiful. Watching the echoes of realization appear on his face. That I knew everything. Just waiting for him to ruin his daughter's life with his own hands. When he literally sells her out.

- "In the war with Noxus," his trembling voice broke the silence of the hall, and I saw him wince at his own weakness, "we lost too many soldiers, too many civilians, too many resources. And we made the decision to retreat, to sit down at the negotiating table. And we came to the conclusion that we would end the war and sign a peace treaty. On the condition that we give Clan Medard something of extraordinary value. Something that could replace our territories.

  My father stared at me unblinkingly as I stood there, smirking in his face. But what was going on inside of me...A storm of emotions, my chest tightening, tugging as if I were about to pass out. I wanted to cuddle up to someone and cry at how painful and hurtful it was to hear those words. To realize that they see me as a resource to be exchanged for something.

-Ambressa,- my father finally took his gaze off me and looked somewhere behind me. - I'm handing you my only daughter, Sophie. She is naturally endowed with an extraordinary gift of magic. I am sure she will be useful in your future operations.

 I heard measured footsteps behind me. Soon two of Medard's warriors appeared beside me and were about to take me under their arms so that I would not run away, but I just looked calmly into the eyes of one of them and shook my head slightly. They immediately lowered their hands without touching me.

 Ambressa stood a little ahead of me, her back covered in a multitude of scars that stood out strongly in white stripes on her skin. I looked at her with mild interest, for this was the first time I had ever seen someone so strong, much less a girl. I smirked at the thought that she could take on our soldiers by herself and not even get tired. Surprisingly, I felt nothing for her. No emotion whatsoever.

-I accept this...an offering of sorts. It was an interesting negotiation, glad we all got what we wanted. As of this moment, the peace treaty is now in effect. Have a good day.

 Without bowing, the girl turned and walked away from the hall. One of the warriors gently touched my shoulder, hinting that it was time to leave. But I had something else to do.

-Can I say goodbye to my parents? - I turned my head to the side, looking at the wall instead of at the general. My pride wouldn't let me turn around to look her in the eye.

-Of course we'll wait. Family is sacred.

Ambressa laughed a little at the comicality of the statement. I, too, smiled a little and began to slowly and quietly climb up to my parents, who were sitting on the throne. As soon as I reached a flat surface, my mother approached me.

-It's best for all of us, - she said dryly and unemotionally as always. Mother pressed me lightly against her, patting me on the back and pushing me away, as if my embrace and closeness might stain her.

-Absolutely.

It hurt to hear that, but I buried it deep inside me, not letting any emotion come out. Someday I'll cry about it. Someday, but not now.

My father came over to me, pulling me quickly against him. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, anticipating my actions.

-I want you to know, - I spoke softly in his ear, hugging his back, - I've wanted this for the past few years. I've literally dreamed about it. - I knew my father didn't know what I was talking about yet, but that was just for now. - Remember when you told me that everything in the world boomerangs back?

 Quickly using my magic I created a fiery dagger that was suspended in the air. I heard a commotion nearby and sharply plunged the dagger into my father's heart. The man instantly collapsed in my arms and I threw him to the floor, a small trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, quickly drenching the expensive uniform, the floor and the hem of my dress. I instantly created an air shield around me and my father, which helped me protect myself from my mother, who was already running to her beloved husband in tears. Either wanting to kill me or spend the last seconds of her life next to him, looking into his eyes.

-So your boomerang didn't go as far as you thought.

 I saw the light of life go out in his eyes, but he couldn't even say goodbye to his wife because I wouldn't let him.

-I hope you burn in hell.

I felt my mother begin to thrash into my shield and saw my mother take her last hoarse breath and close her eyes. I, still remaining infinitely calm, got to my feet and took small steps down the stairs. I walked with my head held high, hearing my own mother's curses and hysterics behind me. I walked straight toward Ambessa, who stood with an impenetrable face. The girl might not have expected something like this, but at least she didn't show it.

 As I approached her, she held out her hand to help me down the stairs. I put my hand in hers.

 My life has changed 180 degrees in just a few minutes. I was traded for a peace treaty, I killed my own father, and I'm going after the girl who ruined my life. This is not how I envisioned my future.

I would be very grateful for feedback, as English is a language I am only practicing. I accept criticism in a milder form, do not break my heart, pls.

[03jyh23]

🌷⌇the weight of fatherhood finding our way back part 6; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood

│words: 6.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! we are finally back! thank you guys for being patient with me, and waiting for this update! as always do let me know if you enjoyed it!

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

│ @originalcupcakenacho │ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │

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│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

"Uncle Wooyoung!" Nari's joyful scream reverberated through the KQ building, filling the air with childlike excitement. Wooyoung, who had been in the middle of his stretching routine, instantly perked up at the sound of her voice. A wide, infectious grin spread across his face as he caught sight of Nari running towards him, her tiny legs pumping as fast as they could carry her. Her hair bounced with each step, and her eyes shone with happiness. Without hesitation, Wooyoung crouched down, arms spread wide, ready to envelop her in a warm, welcoming embrace.

"There's my favorite girl in the whole wide world!" Wooyoung exclaimed exuberantly, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around, eliciting a delighted squeal from Nari. As he settled her on his hip, he gave her an affectionate squeeze and asked, "How's my little princess doing today?"

Nari's giggles filled the air, her eyes sparkling with joy and mischief. She wriggled excitedly in Wooyoung's arms, barely able to contain herself. "Uncle Wooyoung, guess what? Uncle Jongho gave me a new toy! Look!" With that, she proudly held up a remote-controlled car, her little hands gripping it tightly as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. Nari's face beamed with pride as she presented her new toy, eagerly awaiting Wooyoung's reaction to this marvelous gift.

Wooyoung's eyes widened dramatically, his expression a perfect mix of surprise and amazement. "Wow, Nari! That's the coolest toy I've ever seen!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. He examined the car closely, turning it over in his hand as Nari watched eagerly. "This is absolutely amazing! I can't wait to see it in action," he said, giving her another affectionate squeeze. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, "But first, how about a super special high-five for being such an awesome girl and bringing this incredible toy to show me?" Nari's face lit up at the suggestion, and she enthusiastically raised her tiny hand, meeting Wooyoung's palm with a resounding smack. Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible, pride radiating from her entire being.

The practice room door swung open as Wooyoung and Nari continued their playful interaction. Jongho entered, with Hongjoong right beside him. The leader's gestures and hushed tones suggested he was catching Jongho up on some important details - perhaps about an upcoming performance or a change in their schedule. Jongho nodded attentively, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. However, his eyes kept darting to where Nari was playing with Wooyoung, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth every time he glanced their way.

San followed shortly after, stepping into the practice room with a knowing smile playing on his lips. As he caught Jongho's eye, he gave a subtle nod, a silent acknowledgment of their successful maneuver outside.

As Hongjoong continued to fill Jongho in on the details, his voice a low murmur in the background, San's attention was drawn to Nari and Wooyoung. He approached them slowly, his heart swelling with a complex mixture of emotions as he observed his best friend holding the little girl so close. The bond between Wooyoung and Nari was palpable, filled with genuine affection and joy. San couldn't help but think that Wooyoung was simply made to be a father - it was evident in every interaction he had with kids. Looking at him now, holding Nari close, San saw it in the way Wooyoung's eyes softened, in his patience and enthusiasm for her every word and action. Watching them together filled San with a warmth that spread through his chest, but it was tinged with a hint of something else - perhaps a touch of envy, or a longing for something he couldn't quite name. He stood there, taking in the scene before him: Nari's tiny arms wrapped around Wooyoung's neck, her infectious giggles filling the air, and her eyes sparkling with pure, joy. Wooyoung was responding to her excitement with equal fervor, his face animated as he listened to her chatter about her new toy.

As San approached, Wooyoung couldn't resist the opportunity for some playful banter. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in close to Nari, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for San to hear. "Hey Nari," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile, "I think Uncle San is getting a little jealous. Look at that pout on his face!" He exaggerated a sad expression, causing Nari to giggle uncontrollably. Wooyoung then winked at his friend, his smile widening into a full-fledged grin that radiated warmth and affection.

San, catching on to Wooyoung's playful mood, dramatically clutched his chest and feigned a hurt expression. "Oh, the betrayal!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "And here I thought I was your favorite uncle, Nari!" He then chuckled, shaking his head as he reached them. "Come on, Wooyoung," he said, playfully rolling his eyes. "You know there's more than enough of Nari's love to go around. Besides, who could resist this charming face?" He struck a comical pose, causing both Wooyoung and Nari to burst into laughter. San then extended his arms towards Nari, who immediately reached out to him with unbridled excitement, her tiny hands grasping at the air.

With a theatrical sigh of resignation, Wooyoung gently transferred Nari into San's waiting arms. Nari nestled comfortably against his chest, her tiny hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. The sight of the little girl so at ease in his arms brought a soft, tender expression to San's face. "Well, hello there, my little princess," he greeted her, his voice warm and filled with genuine affection. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her. "Did you miss your Uncle San? Because I certainly missed you!"

Nari's response was immediate and enthusiastic. She nodded vigorously, her eyes, wide and shining with unbridled happiness, locked onto San's face. "Yes, Uncle San!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with childlike excitement. "I missed you so, so much! This much!" She stretched her arms out as wide as they could go, nearly losing her balance in San's arms in her eagerness to demonstrate the extent of her affection.

San's heart melted at her words and actions, a wave of warmth washing over him. He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly, giving her a gentle, protective squeeze. "Aww, I missed you too, Nari," he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you can imagine." He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of holding her close before his eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, I've got a great idea! How about we all play with your new car together? I bet we can come up with some really cool tricks."

Wooyoung, who had been watching the interaction with a fond smile, perked up at the suggestion. His eyes twinkled with excitement, matching Nari's enthusiasm. "Oh, yes!" he chimed in, clapping his hands together. "Let's see what this amazing car of yours can do, Nari! I bet it can do some pretty impressive stunts. Maybe we can set up an obstacle course for it!" He gave Nari an encouraging nod, his smile wide and infectious.

With Nari still securely in his arms, San led the way to a clear space in the practice room. The anticipation was palpable as he gently set her down on her feet. Both he and Wooyoung watched with rapt attention as Nari, barely able to contain her excitement, eagerly began to demonstrate how to operate the remote-controlled car. Her tiny fingers moved deftly over the controls, and her face was a picture of concentration mixed with pure joy.

From the sidelines, Jongho observed the heartwarming scene unfolding before him. A warm, content smile spread across his face as he watched Nari's joyful interactions with his bandmates. It was in moments like these that Jongho truly appreciated the strong bond they all shared. They were more than just colleagues or bandmates; they were a family.

As if on cue, the door to the practice room swung open. In walked Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho, their curious gazes immediately drawn to the lively scene before them. Yunho's face, in particular, broke into a wide, mischievous grin as he saw San and Wooyoung playing with Nari. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he nudged Mingi and Yeosang, gesturing towards the trio with a tilt of his head.

"Well, well, well," Yunho called out, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "What do we have here? Hey, lovebirds!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at San and Wooyoung. "You two look good like that, you know. All domestic and cozy. Practicing for the future, are we?" His grin widened as he watched for their reactions, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke fun at his friends.

Wooyoung's head snapped up at Yunho's words, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his features. His cheeks flushed slightly, though whether from embarrassment or exertion from playing was hard to tell. "Yah! Yunho!" he exclaimed, trying his best to sound indignant but failing miserably as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We're just playing with Nari. Instead of standing there making jokes, why don't you come and join us? I bet Nari would love to show you her awesome car skills!"

San handled the teasing well. He laughed and shook his head at Yunho's jokes. "You know," he said with a smile, gently patting Nari's hair, "if we look good, it's because of this little princess. She makes us seem cooler than we really are. Isn't that right, Nari?" He gave the little girl a playful wink, and she smiled brightly back at him.

Mingi and Yeosang, standing slightly behind Yunho, exchanged amused glances at the banter. They couldn't help but smile, without a word, they shared a look of understanding before making their way over to join the group. The practice room, usually filled with the sounds of music and choreography, now echoed with the joyous laughter of friends enjoying a moment of pure, unadulterated fun.

Yeosang crouched down next to Nari, his usually composed demeanor softening into a warm, inviting smile. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he regarded the little girl and her new toy. "Well, hello there, Nari," he said, his voice gentle and filled with affection. "That's quite an impressive car you've got there. I bet it can do all sorts of cool tricks, can't it? Would you mind if we joined in on the fun?’’

Nari's face lit up, she nodded enthusiastically, a giggle escaping her lips as she thrust the remote control towards Yeosang with both hands. "Yes, yes, please play with us, Uncle Yeosang!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with joy. As Yeosang carefully accepted the controls from Nari's tiny hands, Mingi's towering figure appeared beside them. With a dramatic flourish, he folded his long limbs, attempting to squeeze into the small circle formed by the others. The sight was comical - his knees nearly touching his chin as he tried to make himself compact enough to join the play session.

"Alright, folks," he announced, his deep voice tinged with childlike wonder, "let's see what it’s capable of."

Yunho joined the group, sitting down next to Wooyoung, nudging him playfully with his elbow. Leaning in conspiratorially, he spoke in an exaggerated whisper that was clearly meant for everyone to hear. "So, tell me," he began, his voice dripping with playful teasing, "in this little family scenario we've got going on here, which one of you two lovebirds is playing the role of mom, and who's the dad? I really want to know!"

Wooyoung reacted quickly with a mock gasp of indignation, he gave Yunho a light push, making him fall back dramatically. "Oh, keep talking like that," Wooyoung said, laughing even though he tried to sound serious. He stuck out his tongue childishly before continuing, "and you'll find yourself playing the part of the weird uncle that nobody ever invites to family events. How do you like that?"

As the laughter from Wooyoung's joke faded, San's mood changed. The smile left his eyes, replaced by a thoughtful look. He gazed at Wooyoung, who was still joking with Yunho. San felt something in his chest - a mix of familiar and new feelings. It was warm but also a bit unsettling. He couldn't quite name this feeling, but it made him both excited and nervous. Without meaning to, San cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. "You know," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the atmosphere of moments ago. He paused, weighing his words carefully before continuing, "I've been thinking... and I wouldn't mind it, actually. The idea of raising a child with Wooyoung, I mean." He let the words hang in the air for a moment, acutely aware of the surprised looks being exchanged around him. Gathering his courage, he pressed on, his voice gaining a hint of conviction. "We've always worked well together, haven't we? In everything we do. I can't help but think we'd make a pretty great team as parents too. Don't you think?" The playful atmosphere in the room evaporated in an instant, replaced by a tension that seemed to thicken the air. The other members exchanged uncertain glances, clearly caught off guard by San's unexpected revelation. Wooyoung's eyes widened, his gaze locked on San with an intensity that spoke volumes. A myriad of emotions flashed across his face - surprise, confusion, and something deeper, more complex, that he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge or name. San, acutely aware of the sudden shift in mood and the weight of his words, felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. With a slightly forced chuckle, he quickly attempted to lighten the mood. "I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course," he added hastily, his hand moving to ruffle Nari's hair in a gesture that seemed more for his own comfort than hers. "We're already doing a pretty great job with Nari, aren't we? It's not that big of a leap, right?" San's attempt to lighten the mood didn't work. His words hung in the air, and the tense atmosphere remained. No one seemed to know how to respond, and the silence felt uncomfortable.

Wooyoung, still visibly stunned by San's words, managed to compose himself enough to offer a small, albeit slightly shaky, smile. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "We are." The look he gave San was a complex tapestry of emotions - a mix of confusion and hope, intertwined with something deeper, more profound. It was a feeling that Wooyoung wasn't quite ready to name or fully acknowledge, but it was there, unmistakable in the depths of his eyes.

Yunho noticed the group's mood had changed. He wanted to make things less tense. So, he cleared his throat and spoke in a kind voice, even though he had been joking around earlier. "You know what? I think you two would make fantastic parents," he said, his words carrying a weight of genuine belief. "You both have so much love to give, and you're already amazing with kids." He paused, a warm smile spreading across his face as he continued, "But hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright? For now, why don't we focus on being the best uncles we can be for our little Nari here?" With that, he turned to the little girl, his smile brightening even further. "What do you say, princess? How about we have a little competition to see who can make that awesome car of yours do the coolest trick? I bet Uncle Yeosang has some moves up his sleeve!"

Just as the group was about to dive back into their playtime with renewed enthusiasm, Hongjoong's voice cut through the air, gently but firmly bringing everyone's attention back to the reason they were all gathered in the practice room. "Alright, everyone," he said, his tone carrying the subtle authority of a leader, "I hate to be the one to break up the fun, but how about we carry on with our practice? We've got a lot to cover today." His words, while apologetic, served as a clear reminder of their responsibilities and the work that lay ahead of them.

"Hold on," Yeosang interjected, his brow furrowing slightly with concern as he glanced around the room. "Seonghwa still hasn't returned. Should we wait for him?"

Hongjoong shook his head, "He's still with one of the producers," he explained, his tone reassuring. "They needed him to re-record some parts. We'll have to continue without him today."

The members exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from the playful mood of moments ago to a more focused, professional demeanor. Wooyoung turned his attention back to Nari, giving her one last affectionate pat on the head before rising to his feet. "Alright, princess," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of regret at having to end their playtime. "It's time for your uncles to do some work now. But don't worry, okay? We'll definitely play more later. I promise."

Nari's lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, but she nodded bravely. She understood, in her own way, that her beloved uncles had important things to do. San quickly scanned the room and found a comfortable spot where Nari could sit and watch their practice. With gentle hands, he guided her to the spot, making sure she was settled comfortably. "Here you go, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft and caring. "You've got the best seat in the house to watch us practice."

As the members began to take their positions for practice, Jongho couldn't help but cast one last glance in Nari's direction. His eyes softened as he saw her sitting there, her eyes wide with excitement, ready to watch her uncles in action. The little girl caught his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile, as if to say she was perfectly content. Jongho felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sight. With a subtle nod to Hongjoong, signaling he was ready, Jongho took a deep breath. He was prepared to focus on the task at hand, but a part of his attention remained attuned to their precious little spectator, ready to ensure her comfort and safety throughout their practice session.

The practice session was intense, with each member pouring their heart and soul into perfecting their intricate moves and harmonizing their voices. As they ran through their routines, the air in the room crackled with energy and determination. Nari, seated comfortably in her designated spot, watched with wide-eyed wonder, her gaze never leaving the synchronized movements of her uncles. Occasionally, she would break into spontaneous applause or let out an excited cheer, her enthusiasm infectious. The members, feeling Nari's eyes on them, seemed to draw strength from her presence, pushing themselves even harder to deliver flawless performances.

As the grueling practice session began to wind down, the members, their shirts damp with sweat and chests heaving from exertion, gathered around Nari. Jongho, despite his fatigue, managed to crouch down beside her, a warm smile spreading across his face. His eyes, filled with affection, met Nari's as he gently ruffled her hair. "So, little one," he said, his voice slightly breathless but filled with warmth, "what did you think of our performance?"

Nari's response was immediate and enthusiastic. She nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling with excitement and admiration. "You were all so amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe as she bounced in her seat, unable to contain her excitement. Her next words tumbled out in a rush of eagerness, "Can I learn to dance like that too? Please? I want to move like you all do!"

The members exchanged amused glances, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they chuckled at Nari's unbridled enthusiasm. Yunho, his face breaking into a wide grin, stepped forward. He crouched down to Nari's eye level, his voice warm and encouraging. "Of course you can, princess!" he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. "In fact, why wait? How about we teach you a few moves right now? What do you say, guys?"

With that suggestion, the atmosphere in the practice room shifted dramatically. The space that had moments ago been filled with intense concentration now buzzed with playful energy. Each member took turns showing Nari simple steps, their movements exaggerated and slow to make it easier for her to follow. They watched with fond smiles and encouraging words as the little girl attempted to mimic their moves, her face scrunched up in concentration.

The room soon filled with a symphony of laughter and cheers as Nari twirled, hopped, and swayed, her small body moving with the uncoordinated enthusiasm of a child. Her face beamed with pure joy, lighting up the room and warming the hearts of everyone present. The members, despite their exhaustion, found themselves reinvigorated by Nari's infectious happiness, their own movements becoming more animated as they joined in her dance party.

As their dance lesson began to wind down, Hongjoong clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone," he said, a mix of pride and amusement in his tone, "great work today - both the practice and the dance lesson. But it's time we call it a day and get some rest. We've got a busy week ahead of us, after all."

The members nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of satisfaction from a productive practice and lingering amusement from their dance session with Nari. They began to gather their things, moving with the slow, careful movements of those whose muscles were just beginning to feel the strain of a hard day's work. Jongho made his way to Nari, who was now showing signs of tiredness after all the excitement. He scooped her up gently, his strong arms cradling her small form. "Ready to go home, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice tender.

Nari nodded sleepily, her earlier boundless energy now giving way to drowsiness. She rested her head on Jongho's shoulder, her voice a soft murmur. "Can we come back tomorrow?" she asked, her words slightly slurred with impending sleep. "I want to dance with everyone again."

Jongho couldn't help but chuckle, his chest rumbling with the sound. He exchanged fond glances with his bandmates, all of whom wore similar expressions of affection and amusement. "We'll see, Nari," he said gently, rubbing her back soothingly. "We'll see. For now, let's get you home and into bed, okay?"

As they made their way out of the practice room, Jongho felt a profound sense of warmth and contentment wash over him. The day had been filled with unexpected moments of joy and precious memories with Nari. He knew that balancing his responsibilities as an idol with caring for Nari will be challenging, but today - seeing her joy, feeling the support of his members, experiencing the unique blend of his two worlds - made it all worthwhile.

As they prepared to leave the building, Wooyoung and San approached Jongho and the now sleepy Nari. Wooyoung reached out, gently stroking Nari's hair, his touch feather-light to avoid disturbing her. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, "Goodbye, little one. We had so much fun today, didn't we? You're going to be a great dancer someday, just like your uncles."

Nari managed a sleepy nod, a small smile gracing her face even as her eyes struggled to stay open. San leaned in, placing a light kiss on her forehead, his actions filled with tenderness. "Sweet dreams, princess," he murmured, his voice warm with affection. "We'll see you again soon. Maybe next time, you can teach us some of your dance moves."

The three men made their way to the parking lot, Jongho carrying the now-dozing Nari. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the stuffy practice room, and they breathed deeply, savoring the freshness. As they reached Jongho's car, Wooyoung stepped forward, opening the back door with careful quietness. Jongho maneuvered carefully, gently placing Nari in her car seat without waking her. His movements were practiced and tender, speaking of the care and love he held for the little girl.

Once Nari was securely fastened, San placed a hand on Jongho's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. His voice was low but filled with sincerity, "You did great today, Jongho. Not just with the practice, but with Nari too. It's not easy balancing all of this, but you're handling it wonderfully. We're all proud of you."

Wooyoung nodded in agreement, his expression serious but warm. "And remember," he added, his voice equally low to avoid disturbing Nari, "we're always here if you need anything. For you and for Nari. Whether it's babysitting, or just someone to talk to, or even dance lessons," he finished with a small chuckle, referencing their earlier antics.

Jongho felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his friend's words and support. He smiled gratefully at them, his eyes shining with emotion. "Thanks, guys," he managed, his voice slightly husky. "It means more than you know." He glanced at the sleeping Nari in the backseat, his expression softening further. "She loves you all so much. You're making this transition easier for both of us. I don't know what we'd do without you all."

With final waves and whispered goodbyes, Wooyoung and San stepped back, allowing Jongho to climb into the driver's seat. As he started the engine, Jongho took a moment to look at his sleeping charge in the rearview mirror, then at his friends standing in the parking lot, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. With a final wave, he pulled out of the parking space and drove off into the night, his heart full of warmth from the day's events and gratitude for the family he had found in his members.

As Jongho carefully maneuvered his car into a parking spot near your apartment building, the events of the day played through his mind like a gentle melody. With delicate movements, he unbuckled Nari from her car seat. The little girl, exhausted from her day barely stirred as Jongho lifted her into his arms. Her small form nestled against his chest, her head finding its perfect resting place on his shoulder as if it were made just for her.

Jongho's steps were slow and measured as he made his way towards the building entrance only not to wake the little girl up. As he approached the elevator, a wave of contentment washed over him, the day had been long, filled with the rigorous demands of practice and the unexpected delight of Nari's presence, but it left Jongho feeling fulfilled in a way he hadn't experienced before. His heart quickened slightly at the thought of seeing you again, however, as the elevator doors parted on your floor, Jongho's peaceful thoughts suddenly changed. Standing at the door to your apartment was a man Jongho didn't recognize. Almost unconsciously, he tightened his hold on Nari, drawing her closer to his chest as if to shield her. Jongho moved forward, his eyes never straying from the unknown man. As Jongho got closer, he noticed the man acting nervous. The stranger kept fidgeting and looking at his watch. Jongho's heart pounded in his chest, he positioned himself strategically between the stranger and the door, his body language a clear statement of protection. With a soft clearing of his throat, careful not to disturb Nari's peaceful slumber but loud enough to catch the man's attention, Jongho prepared to address the unexpected visitor. His voice, when he spoke, was low but firm, "Excuse me," Jongho said, his words cutting through the tense silence, "Can I help you?"

"She was with you the entire time?" The man's sudden exclamation startled Jongho, causing him to take a few steps back instinctively. His eyebrows shot up in shock, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness. "Nari was with you the entire time?" the stranger repeated, his eyes fixed on the sleeping Nari in Jongho's arms.

Jongho's protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He shifted his stance, angling his body to further shield Nari from the man's intense gaze. His voice, when he spoke, was cautious and measured. "Yes, she was. May I ask who you are and why you're asking about my daughter?" The tension in the hallway was palpable as Jongho waited for the man's response, his mind racing with possibilities and concerns. He tightened his hold on Nari ever so slightly, ready to act if necessary to ensure her safety.

The man's eyes narrowed, a scoff escaping his lips. His earlier nervousness had completely evaporated, replaced by a confrontational demeanor that sent a chill down Jongho's spine. "Oh, so now she's suddenly yours?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and barely contained anger. The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and resentment. "That's rich, coming from someone who's been absent all this time."

Jongho's confusion deepened, his protective instincts flaring even more intensely. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. He was about to respond, to defend himself and his relationship with Nari, when suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, recognition struck him. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and with a jolt that felt almost physical, Jongho realized who he was facing. "Hyunwoo?" The name left his lips in a whisper, part question, part dawning comprehension. He adjusted his hold on Nari, preparing himself for what was sure to be a difficult and emotionally charged conversation. The tension in the air thickened as recognition dawned on both men, the atmosphere electric with unspoken words and barely suppressed emotions. Hyunwoo's eyes darted between Jongho and sleeping Nari, a tumultuous mix of emotions flashing across his face - anger, hurt, confusion, and something that looked almost like longing. The silence stretched between them, fraught with unspoken accusations and years of complicated history. Jongho took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation that was sure to follow. He knew he had to tread carefully, for Nari's sake if nothing else. "Look, man," Jongho said, his voice low but firm, every word measured and deliberate. "I'm not sure what you're doing here, and I understand you probably have a lot to say. But this isn't the time or place for this conversation. It's late, and I need to put my daughter to bed. We can talk another time if we need to."

"What gives you the right to call her that?" Hyunwoo scoffed, his face contorting into a mixture of disbelief and indignation. A wry, almost bitter smile played on his lips as his eyes narrowed, challenging Jongho's claim with an intensity that seemed to crackle in the air between them. The tension in the hallway escalated palpably, the atmosphere thick with unspoken accusations and emotions barely held in check.

Jongho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. His patience was wearing thin, but he was acutely aware of the sleeping girl in his arms. "I'm her father, Hyunwoo," he said, his voice low but carrying a firmness that brooked no argument. "That gives me every right." As he spoke, he could feel Nari stirring slightly against his chest, a gentle reminder of the need to keep his emotions in check.

Hyunwoo's face twisted further, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashing across his features - anger, disbelief, and something that looked almost like pain. "Father?" he spat out, the word laced with venom. "Where were you all these years, huh? While you were off chasing your dreams, living the high life of an idol, I was here. I was the one who was there for Nari, for Y/N. I've been the one taking care of them, supporting them, being there for every milestone, every tear, every laugh. Where were you then?"

The accusation hit Jongho like a physical blow, the words cutting deep. For a moment, doubt flickered in his eyes, but he steeled himself, holding his ground. "Look, Hyunwoo," he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "I understand you care about them. I get that you've been there. But things have changed now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. This isn't the time or place for this conversation. We're in a hallway, and Nari is sleeping."

Hyunwoo took a step closer, his body tense with barely contained anger. His voice rose slightly, the words tumbling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. "You can't just waltz back into their lives and expect everything to be okay, Jongho. You have no idea what they've been through, what I've-"

Jongho cut him off abruptly, his voice low but carrying an edge of steel. "I'm not going to listen to any of that," he said, his eyes flashing with a determination that seemed to catch Hyunwoo off guard. "And if it was my choice, I don't want you anywhere near my daughter." Hyunwoo recoiled, visibly taken aback by Jongho's sudden assertiveness. The air between them crackled with tension as Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper to avoid disturbing Nari. "Look, I appreciate what you might have done in the past. I truly do. But things are different now. I'm here, I'm her father, and I'm not going anywhere. Please, leave."

Hyunwoo's face darkened, a storm of emotions playing across his features. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. For a long, tense moment, it seemed like he might argue further, might escalate the confrontation. But then, as suddenly as it had come, the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders sagged, the anger giving way to a bone-deep weariness. He cast one last, longing look at the sleeping Nari, his eyes softening for just a moment before he turned away. His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he left, each one seeming to carry the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

As Hyunwoo disappeared around the corner, Jongho let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. A wave of relief washed over him mingled with a mix of other emotions - guilt, sadness, determination. He looked down at Nari, still peacefully asleep in his arms, oblivious to the storm that had just passed.

Suddenly, Nari stirred, her small body shifting against Jongho's chest. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in her sleepy gaze as she took in her surroundings. "Uncle Jongho?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. Jongho's heart melted at the sound, his earlier tension dissipating in an instant.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he whispered, gently rubbing her back. "We're home now. Let's get you to bed." With a gentle sigh, he turned to unlock the apartment door, his mind still racing with thoughts of the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, all that mattered was comforting Nari and finding a moment of peace in the quiet of the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│��

[aventurineswife]

So, in one of episodes of Spy x Family, during one of Yor's missions, her butt was shot which resulted in her being constantly grumpy from pain, she couldn't tell her husband Loid about it and husband himself couldn't figure out.

So, my request, some group of people tried to attack reader (either to catch her, during one of the missions or attempt to assassinate), they managed to destroy a group, but one of still alive members attempted to kill them, but shoots in the reader's butt instead, which results to them being in pain and constantly refusing to sit down, but they didn't want to confess as it's too embarrassing for them. Request for Kafka, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Blade, Feixiao, Silver Wolf and Firefly. (Can be read as platonic or romantic)

Through Pain, We Laugh

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Blade x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Firefly x Reader, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Team Dynamics, Embarrassment, Found Family, Mild Injuries, Light Angst, Banter.

Warnings: Minor injury description, mild language, brief mentions of gunfire and violence.

Kafka always carried herself with poise, even in the face of danger. When a group of mercenaries ambushed you during a mission, her calm, calculated demeanor turned the chaos into a graceful symphony of destruction. She took down most of the attackers, making them drop their weapons and stand like obedient puppets.

But as you finished off the last assailant, a desperate grunt hidden among the rubble fired one last shot. The bullet hit its mark: your rear. The sharp pain made you yelp, but you quickly covered it with a cough, unwilling to let Kafka see you falter.

She turned to you, her eyes narrowing. "Are you alright, darling? You’re limping a bit."

You waved her off, refusing to meet her gaze. "Just a scratch. Let’s move."

Kafka smirked knowingly but didn’t press further. Yet, as the mission progressed, you found yourself increasingly irritable. The throbbing pain made sitting impossible, and standing still was no better. During a stakeout, Kafka finally addressed the elephant in the room.

"You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes. What’s wrong?" she asked, leaning against the wall with her signature grace.

You froze. "Nothing. Just restless."

Her smile widened, a teasing glint in her eyes. "You’re a terrible liar. Did one of those grunts actually manage to hurt you?"

"N-no!" you blurted, too quickly.

She stepped closer, her voice a silky whisper. "Oh, I see. You’re too embarrassed to admit it, aren’t you? Let me guess—lower body, perhaps?"

Your flushed silence was answer enough. Kafka chuckled, a rich, amused sound. "I won’t press you further, but next time, don’t let pride get in the way of your health. We wouldn’t want you too sore to enjoy the spoils of victory."

Her wink made your cheeks burn hotter than the bullet wound, but you knew she’d keep your secret—for now.

Blade was no stranger to danger. He was always the first to step into a fight, his cracked sword cleaving through enemies with precision. During the ambush, he moved like a shadow, dispatching attackers before they even realized he was there.

You held your own, but one assailant got lucky. The moment you turned your back, a gunshot rang out, and sharp pain bloomed in your backside. You stumbled but quickly straightened, refusing to show weakness.

Blade noticed your wince but said nothing, his eyes briefly flicking to you before returning to the battlefield. Once the last enemy fell, he sheathed his sword and walked over.

"You’re hurt," he said bluntly, his gaze piercing.

"It’s nothing," you replied through gritted teeth.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You’re favoring your left side. What happened?"

"I said it’s fine," you snapped, your irritation fueled by both pain and embarrassment.

Blade’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened—just slightly. "If you’re injured, it’s better to address it now. Pride won’t stop infection."

You bit back a groan as the pain flared again. "It’s... not serious. Just leave it."

To your surprise, Blade didn’t push further. Instead, he turned and started walking. "Suit yourself. But if you collapse later, don’t expect sympathy."

His dry tone was infuriating, but the slight smirk you caught as he turned away told you he knew exactly what had happened—and he wasn’t letting you off the hook.

Silver Wolf treated every mission like a level in her favorite game. This one had been particularly fun—an ambush filled with “noobs” who underestimated her hacking skills and combat prowess. With her “aether editing” ability, she turned the tide easily, and you were right there beside her, holding your own.

That is, until a stray bullet hit you square in the rear. You bit your tongue to keep from crying out, your pride refusing to let Silver Wolf see your pain.

When the dust settled, she turned to you, grinning. "That was sick! You okay, though? You’re walking funny."

"Fine," you muttered, trying to play it cool.

She tilted her head, her purple glasses catching the light. "Really? 'Cause it looks like you’re trying not to sit on a spike."

"I’m fine," you repeated, more forcefully this time.

Silver Wolf raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Alright, whatever. But if you’re gonna keep standing during our post-mission chill time, I’m definitely gonna roast you for it."

You grumbled under your breath, refusing to meet her gaze as you leaned awkwardly against a wall. As she pulled out her game console and plopped onto the ground, she smirked up at you.

"By the way," she said casually, not looking up from her screen, "next time you take a bullet to the butt, just say so. I could’ve hacked their aim, y’know."

Your face turned beet red, and Silver Wolf’s laughter echoed through the room.

The ambush had been swift and chaotic, leaving you and Firefly back-to-back in a flurry of gunfire and explosions. The Stellaron Hunter’s sharp instincts saved you both more than once, her hair catching the light as she darted through the battlefield like a ghost.

The last attacker, desperate and cornered, aimed his weapon recklessly. Firefly moved to block, but the bullet veered off course, striking you in the most humiliating place imaginable.

You hissed in pain, staggering. Firefly turned immediately, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you hurt?”

“No!” you blurted, too quickly. “It’s nothing! Let’s just… move on.”

Firefly’s brow furrowed, but she nodded, respecting your privacy. However, as the mission progressed, your behavior became impossible to ignore. You avoided sitting, leaned against walls in odd positions, and grimaced every time you took a step.

“Okay,” Firefly said finally, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong? Don’t say ‘nothing.’ I’ve seen you dodge Swarm projectiles more gracefully than this.”

You sighed, heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s… personal.”

Firefly’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to tell me, but if it’s serious, we should get it treated. I won’t judge.”

Her sincerity caught you off guard. While you still couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, her support made the pain a little more bearable.

Later, as you limped off to find a private place to rest, Firefly called out, her voice tinged with humor. “Just don’t make it worse, okay? The Hunters can’t afford to lose someone as stubborn as you.”

Her teasing smile reminded you that even in embarrassment, you weren’t alone.

[starset21]

Forgetful

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr .

A/N: Just a small little comfort blurb I guess. kinda feeling some feelings.

wc: 793

Warnings: reader feels unappreciated by her family. Google translated dutch.

Y/n had always prided herself on being the glue that held everything together. For years, she had juggled her job, her family, and her relationship, always giving a little more than she had to make sure everything ran smoothly. The laundry was always folded, the meals were always warm, and the schedules were always synced up. But lately, something had been off. It had started small, the way her family didn’t notice when she kept the house running, or when she made sure everything was perfect for their gatherings. The gratitude had dwindled, replaced by a list of things she had forgotten to do.

“You forgot the milk again, Y/n,” her brother, Alex, said that morning, his tone clipped, like it was the end of the world. “I asked you to pick up the dry cleaning. It’s not that hard,” her mom added as Y/n packed her bag, already late for work. “Why didn’t you make the calls to the insurance company?” her sister asked, like it was the fifth time she’d failed them this month.

Y/n stood there, her hands frozen, a familiar ache settling in her chest. She had done everything—everything—for them. She had been the one to keep track of birthdays, to organize pickups, to be the one who was always available to listen, even when she was exhausted. But today, all she had done was forget a couple of small things, and suddenly, she was the failure. It felt like she was invisible, like none of her efforts mattered.

Maybe it was time to take a step back, she thought. Maybe they didn’t need her the way she thought they did.

As the door slammed behind her, Y/n grabbed her keys, drove through the traffic, and headed to the place she could always find some peace: her boyfriend Max’s apartment.

Max Verstappen was not only the world’s fastest Formula 1 driver—he was, to Y/n, the calm in her storm. He was the one person who made her feel like she mattered without needing to ask for it. Every time she was with him, she could feel the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. She arrived at his place, a sleek, modern flat overlooking the city. When he opened the door, his face lit up in that familiar way. The rush of comfort she felt just seeing him was enough to make her heart soften.

“Schatje” he said, pulling her into a tight hug, the warmth of his embrace instantly making her feel a little lighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest. He smiled softly, his fingers threading through her hair. “You could never interrupt me. You know that.” Y/n sighed, feeling the sting of frustration still lingering. “It’s just… everything’s so much lately. My family, they don’t appreciate what I do. I’m always the one taking care of everything, and when I slip up—just once—they act like I’ve done nothing for them. Like I’m invisible.”

Max pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering. “You’re not invisible to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re the reason I can be the person I am. You take care of everything, but that doesn’t mean you’re meant to carry it all alone.” She bit her lip, holding back tears that threatened to spill. She had never asked for much from him, knowing how demanding his life was. But hearing those words made something inside her unravel.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough,” she admitted quietly.

Max stepped forward, cupping her face gently. “You’re more than enough, Y/n. You’re everything. And anyone who doesn’t see that… well, they’re blind.”

The words, so simple, yet so profound, hit her like a wave. In that moment, she realized something: she didn’t need validation from everyone. Not from her family, not from anyone. What mattered was that she was enough—for herself.

Max’s thumb stroked the side of her cheek. “You don’t need to do everything, Y/n. You deserve to rest, too. Let me take care of you for once, okay?” Her lips quivered into a small smile. “I think I’d like that.” Max chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Good. Because for the first time in a while, I’m not letting you go anywhere.” She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As Max led her to the couch, wrapping her in his warmth, she finally felt like she was more than just the list of things she did for others. She was Y/n. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s only the fifth time that he comes in that she realizes the man is obviously going to be a regular. He orders the same thing, a single black tea with a buttered croissant, then proceeds to sit in the booth in the corner, the one that faces away from everything but also gives the best view of the entire café. It takes him exactly thirty minutes to finish the entire breakfast before he leaves, always dropping two pounds into the tip jar and gives her a tight smile before he exits.

“You’re a creature of habit,” she notes, and he looks up from his phone, blinking at her in shock.

“Pardon?”

She smiles. “You order the same thing and sit in the exact same place every morning. A creature of habit.”

“I guess I am,” he replies, looking down at his cup and plate. “Can’t go wrong with simple things.”

“You’d be surprised.” Her eyes trail up his arms, pausing on the fancy but tactical watch, then to his face. “You know we offer military discounts for active duty and retired, yes?”

At this, he pauses and meets her gaze, brows furrowing in what one could only describe as surprised satisfaction. “How’d you know I was military?”

She gestures to the seat across from him and he nods, watching as she takes a seat. “My dad was retired USN. You carry yourself like he did. Punctual, clean cut.”

“Good senses.”

“Eh, I try.”

He smiles as he takes a sip of his tea. “How’d you end up this side of Birmingham?”

A bit of sadness crosses her face as she lets out a soft sigh. “Dad died from cancer a few years ago. I just needed a change of pace.” She shrugs. “Flying halfway across the world and starting new will do that I guess.”

“Sorry for your loss,” he murmurs. “Where was he laid to rest?”

“Arlington.” Her smile is one of pride. “I don’t think I’d ever seen so many retired and active-duty members come to his funeral. It was…really something.” She shakes her head. “But back to my original question. You get a discount for being a military service member.”

“Don’t need it,” he says, shaking his head.

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you’re not getting it,” she fires back. “You fight for freedom, you get it.”

“Quite an American way of putting things,” he jokes, and her smile is wide and bright.

“The American way of life extends far.” She rises from her seat. “I have to get back to work though.” She turns but pauses and spins back around. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

He smiles, heart fluttering a bit in his chest at the fact that she wants to see him. “Of course.”

“Good,” she says holding out her hand to shake. “You never told me your name though.”

“Jon,” he answers, taking her hand. “Jonathan Price.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jon,” she answers, flushing when he presses his lips to the back of hers.

“The pleasure’s all mine, love,” he smirks, chuckling when she laughs and pulls away, practically tripping over herself as she hurries off.

[nayziiz]

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 3

As Carlos expertly parked the Ferrari right in front of the restaurant, Lola couldn't help but notice the large reserved sign that stood prominently in their designated spot. It was a subtle yet unmistakable indication of the evening's extravagance, a gesture that left her momentarily awestruck.

As Carlos stepped out of the car and came around to her side, offering his hand with a warm smile, Lola felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. Taking his hand, she allowed herself to be guided to the front door, the soft glow of the restaurant's exterior casting an enchanting aura over the scene.

With each step they took, Lola couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation building within her. This was no ordinary dinner—it was a night of luxury and indulgence, a world apart from her usual haunts. And as they reached the entrance, she finally understood what Carlos had meant when he said it was a fancy restaurant.

Stepping inside, Lola found herself enveloped in an atmosphere of opulence and grandeur, the elegant décor and soft lighting creating a sense of intimacy and sophistication that took her breath away. She had never been here before, nor had she ever been anywhere remotely as fancy. In that moment, she realised just how out of her element she was.

But as she glanced up at Carlos, his hand still clasped firmly in hers, she felt a sense of reassurance wash over her. Despite the lavish surroundings, he made her feel grounded and at ease, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of luxury that surrounded them. Lola was a simple girl in many respects. His Ferrari may have caught her eye, but lavish things were never her end-all or be-all.

As Carlos pulled out her chair with practised elegance, Lola couldn't help but feel a flutter of appreciation at his gentlemanly gesture. Taking her seat, she offered him a grateful smile as he pushed her chair in, his warm gaze lingering on her as she settled into her seat.

As she removed her jacket, revealing the sleeveless top she wore underneath, Lola caught a flicker of surprise in Carlos's eyes. She couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her pale skin, a hint of curiosity dancing in the depths of his eyes.

For a moment, Lola felt self-conscious under his scrutiny. She was used to the curious glances and whispered assumptions that often accompanied her appearance. But as she met Carlos's gaze head-on, she felt a sense of defiance rise within her. She was who she was, and she refused to apologise for it. To her surprise, Carlos's next words caught her off guard.

“I was almost expecting tattoos.” He admitted, his tone tinged with curiosity and genuine interest.

Lola's lips curved into a wry smile at his observation. It wasn't the first time she had been mistaken for someone with inked arms, but she couldn't fault Carlos for his assumption. After all, appearances could be deceiving.

But as she glanced down at her unblemished skin, she felt a sense of pride swell within her. Her arms were a canvas waiting to be painted with the colours of her choosing—a blank slate upon which she could write her own story.

“I guess I'm full of surprises.” She replied with a playful glint in her eyes, her words carrying a hint of mischief as she met Carlos's gaze. “You sure know how to treat a girl.”

Carlos's smile faltered for a moment at Lola's comment, a pang of guilt tugging at his conscience. If only she knew the truth—that his busy schedule often left him with little time for anything beyond work, let alone finding someone to share a meal with.

As he watched her peruse the menu, a wave of admiration washed over him. Despite her initial hesitancy, Lola had agreed to go on this date with him, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for her willingness to give him a chance.

But beneath her flirtatious exterior, Carlos sensed Lola's underlying hesitation, her guarded demeanour a stark reminder of the walls she had built around her heart. And as he met her gaze, he knew that he had to tread carefully if he wanted to earn her trust.

“I'm glad you think so.” Carlos replied with a soft smile, his voice laced with sincerity.

After a few quiet moments, Carlos attempted to divert the conversation to a different topic.

“I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary preferences, so I thought this place might work well.” Carlos explained. Lola's smile widened at Carlos's explanation, touched by his thoughtfulness.

“That's... very considerate.” She replied, her voice soft with appreciation as she watched him study the menu.

As she observed him, Lola couldn't help but sense the undercurrent of nervousness that seemed to linger beneath his confident facade. It was a stark contrast to the boyish charm he had exuded the day before, and she found herself feeling strangely drawn to this new side of him—the vulnerable, uncertain Carlos who stood before her now.

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Carlos closed the menu and set it aside, his movements deliberate as he met Lola's gaze.

Lola pondered the menu for a moment, her gaze flickering over the tantalising array of options before her. With so many delicious choices, she found herself feeling indecisive, unsure of what to order.

“What're you having?” She wondered, turning to Carlos for guidance.

Carlos considered the menu thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the descriptions of each dish with keen interest.

“I was thinking the Fillet Moutarde.” He replied, his voice laced with anticipation as he met Lola's gaze.

“I think I’ll have…the pork belly.” She eventually told him and placed the menu on his. Carlos nodded in understanding as Lola made her decision, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“The pork belly sounds delicious too.” He remarked, his tone warm and encouraging as he reached for her menu.

As he glanced over the menu once more, Carlos couldn't help but notice Lola's hesitation. He sensed her uncertainty, her desire to make a good impression despite feeling out of her element. And although he admired her willingness to try new things, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the realisation of just how stark the differences between them truly were.

“Good evening, sir. Good evening, madam. Can I offer you our wine list?” The waiter asked as he glanced between the pair.

“Good evening.” Carlos greeted the waiter with a polite nod, his gaze briefly meeting Lola's before returning to the waiter. “Thank you, but we won't be needing the wine list tonight. Perhaps just two glasses of Coke, please?”

Lola's heart skipped a beat as Carlos declined the wine list, a surge of gratitude washing over her. She appreciated his consideration. The waiter nodded understandingly and retreated with a polite smile, leaving Carlos and Lola alone once more.

Lola's chuckle bubbled up uncontrollably as Carlos made his suggestion, her amusement dancing in the air between them like a playful melody. The waiter nodded in acknowledgment before hurrying off to fulfil their request for sodas.

“Coke?” Lola asked, her chuckle finally escaping her lips in a soft, melodic sound. Carlos flashed her a sheepish grin.

“Well, I don't drink and drive.” He assured her with a playful twinkle in his eyes. Lola's laughter subsided, replaced by a thoughtful expression as she considered his question. 

“Mmh, I see. I don't really drink, at all, actually.” She confessed, her tone laced with honesty. Carlos arched an eyebrow in curiosity, his interest piqued by her revelation.

“Is that more of a health reason?” He wondered, his voice gentle and probing. Lola hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully.

“Partly.” She admitted with a shrug. “I crashed my bike on my way home from a party back when I was at university. Ended up breaking my ankle, so I just never had a drink after that again. It usually takes just one small mistake and the next thing you know, everything is upside down.”

Carlos listened intently as Lola shared her story, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and admiration for her resilience. His gaze softened as he absorbed her words, a newfound understanding dawning within him. Lola's experience had left a lasting impression on her, shaping her choices and guiding her decisions in ways he could only begin to comprehend.

“And yet you still get on the bike.” Carlos countered, his tone filled with admiration for her courage. Lola nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

“There's something uniquely satisfying about controlling a powerful machine, especially when every ride is different and unpredictable.” She added, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As Carlos listened to her, he couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with Lola. He too had experienced the thrill of controlling a powerful machine, the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he pushed himself to the limit on the racetrack.

But despite his success in the world of Formula 1, there was still a part of him that yearned for something more—for the exhilaration of the unknown, the thrill of the chase. And as he looked into Lola's eyes, he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing stir within him. For in her, he saw a kindred spirit—a fellow seeker of adventure, a lover of the open road.

As the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their orders and serve them their Cokes, Carlos couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment at the interruption. He was eager to learn more about Lola—to unravel the layers of complexity that lay beneath her outward appearance.

“So, what is it that you do when you're not out riding?” Carlos wondered, his curiosity piqued as he met Lola's gaze. Lola smiled warmly at his question, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“I work in software development, so I help create apps and programs.” She answered, her voice tinged with pride. Carlos's eyebrows shot up in surprise, impressed by Lola's profession.

“Wow, not just pretty, but smart too.” He mumbled, completely enthralled by the woman sitting across from him.

Lola chuckled at his remark, a blush creeping into her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. She had always prided herself on her intelligence and hard work, but to hear it acknowledged by someone like Carlos was truly flattering.

Carlos had been out of the dating scene for what felt like an eternity. Sure, there had been a few attempts here and there—dates set up by his fellow drivers, Lando and Charles—but none of the girls had ever captured his interest quite like Lola did. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew there was something special about her—something that set her apart from the rest.

As he sat across from her now, Carlos couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness wash over him—a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. It was a different kind of adrenaline, one that left him feeling more on edge than he ever did preparing for a race. But despite the nerves, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill that coursed through his veins with every word she spoke.

He found himself mesmerised by the movement of her lips as she talked, the pale pink colour matching her complexion perfectly. It was a small detail, but one that left a lasting impression on him—a reminder of just how captivated he was by her presence.

As he listened to her speak, Carlos couldn't help but marvel at the way she lit up the room with her laughter and enthusiasm. There was a warmth and sincerity to her words that drew him in, leaving him hanging on her every word.

As Lola spoke, she couldn't help but notice the intensity of Carlos's gaze, his eyes seemingly fixated on her lips as they moved with each word she uttered. It was a subtle yet unmistakable gesture—one that left her feeling both flustered and intrigued.

For Lola, this wasn't just any ordinary date. It had been a while since she had ventured into the world of dating, and she found herself feeling equally unsure about how to navigate the conversation and experience. But despite her nerves, there was also a sense of excitement bubbling within her—a feeling she couldn't quite shake.

As she spoke, Lola couldn't help but feel a surge of self-consciousness wash over her, wondering if Carlos could sense her uncertainty. But as she met his gaze, she found herself drawn to the warmth and sincerity reflected in his eyes—a silent reassurance that she wasn't alone in this.

With each passing moment, Lola felt herself growing more comfortable in Carlos's presence, her laughter and enthusiasm flowing more freely as they shared stories and exchanged banter.

“Tell me what you do for work.” Lola insisted as she took a bite of her pork belly.

Lola's curiosity was piqued as she took a bite of her pork belly, her gaze fixed on Carlos as she awaited his response. She had sensed a hint of mystery surrounding his occupation, and she was eager to unravel the enigma that lay beneath.

“Well... It's, uhm, a bit difficult to describe without sounding crazy.” Carlos began, his voice tinged with a sense of hesitation. Lola's interest only grew as she leaned in slightly, her attention fully captured by his words.

“I drive for a living. Essentially, it's just one car, really, but it gets upgraded all the time and I kind of have to see what works and what doesn't.” He continued, his words coming out in a rush as he struggled to articulate the complexities of his profession. Lola furrowed her brow in confusion, trying to make sense of his vague description.

“Like a mechanic, then?” She countered, her curiosity getting the better of her. Carlos nodded slowly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I suppose in a way, yeah.” He admitted. “I work with the mechanics to make the car perform better.”

“That's so interesting.” Lola nodded, her eyes alight with curiosity as she absorbed Carlos's explanation. “And, you said you drive a Ferrari because you work for Ferrari?”

Carlos nodded in affirmation, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah. But, I've worked for McLaren and Renault previously as well.” He added, his tone tinged with a hint of pride. Lola's interest only grew as she listened to Carlos's words, her mind buzzing with questions. 

“How did you get into the whole car industry?” She continued, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“My father was a professional rally driver... I guess he still is.” Carlos chuckled, a fond smile gracing his lips as he reminisced about his childhood. “And I was just always around that space, so it just felt like a natural career path.”

Lola nodded in understanding, her gaze softening as she listened to Carlos's words. She could sense the deep connection he had to the world of racing, the influence of his father shaping his passion and driving him to pursue his dreams.

As they continued to savour their meals, Lola found herself lost in thought, reflecting on Carlos's words. Although she had been hesitant at first, her meal was delicious, each bite a symphony of flavours that danced across her palate.

Glancing over at Carlos's plate, she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the sight of his meal. It looked ten times more appealing than hers, each dish expertly crafted and artfully presented.

“Would you reconsider taking me for that ride?” Carlos wondered, breaking the silence after a few moments, his voice filled with a hint of anticipation.

“On the bike?” Lola asked, her eyes widening in surprise as she almost choked slightly on her food at his unexpected request.

“Yeah, on your Yamaha XYZ.” Carlos chuckled again, a playful glint in his eyes as he purposely named it incorrectly. Lola couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes at him before breaking into a smile.

“Have you ever been a passenger on a bike before?” She asked, her curiosity piqued as she met his gaze. Carlos shook his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“When I was a kid.” He informed her, his tone laced with amusement. Lola laughed at his response, the sound melodic and infectious.

“Alright, we'll just go through some basics before we ride anywhere.” She replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

-----------------------

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg

[bumblebeehug]

Snippet from the wip I'm planning on posting next

“I don’t get that leftover stuff. How can there be food left from one night of cooking?” Natsu put his arms behind his head. They had started heading home and were just leaving the building, Lucy taking the lead. “Normally people don’t eat four portions in one go, that’s how.” She looked back at him, slowing her pace so she could walk beside him. “Though I guess I should thank you. I don’t exactly love reheated stuff.” “Hah,” Natsu laughed curtly, “I know ya’ don’t! That’s why I ate it for ya’!” “Oh, as if! Don’t act like you did me a favour!” She playfully hit his arm. The sky was just shifting from blue to orange, making the sun give off a golden shine. Natsu looked good in gold. He looked good in all colours, but Lucy found him especially beautiful, lit up by the sun as if he was one of its rays. His skin had a healthy glow, his brown complexion mingling perfectly with the sunshine. Adding his gorgeous, sculpted profile to the mixture was almost too much for Lucy. Her knees wobbled a little, and she made herself look away before she truly melted. *** After stopping by the store, the two of them were on their way to Lucy’s apartment. She almost made a mental note of how much money she put out for the food, but reminded herself that Natsu had been the one to pay this time. It was only fair, according to him, but Lucy felt bad either way. Even if he owed her this much, she still wanted to pay for the things in her own fridge. This once, though, she swallowed her pride and let him pay. It was nice to be cared for as well – he was even currently carrying the bags for her. Natsu loved how independent Lucy was, he really did. However, sometimes he wanted her to be a bit more selfish. Ask for more. She was always the first to offer her seat on a full train, the first to give up her comfort for someone else’s. Even today, Natsu had to argue for five minutes before being allowed to carry both of the bags. He ended up spurting out claims to “need it for passive training” even though he knew it sounded stupid – Lucy couldn’t give up without a fight. Though he reminded himself that that too was a trait he was fond of. Her spirit was unwavering, and that could be quite helpful on missions.

[callsign-rogueone]

wrong to love you

Garrick Tavis x Sloane Mairi 💌: Could I request a Garrick x Sloane angst where Garrick feels guilty/conflicted about having feelings for Liam's kid sister? words: 861 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers and mentions of sex / very mild objectification. written in third person, but Garrick's POV. I promise I love ***** as much as the next guy, but somebody has to be the antagonist here. I did not think my first character x character fic would be this, but here we are -- I read this ask and nearly fell down the stairs. literally. this pairing is something I had never considered until this very moment but I’m kinda obsessed with it — I had to put everything down and write this as a stream of consciousness (no editing, just brain worms.) let me know if you want me to make this a series, I guess?

Liam was an objectively pretty guy, but seeing his features on a woman is devastating. 

It feels wrong to call Sloane Mairi a woman, but it’s the truth; she’s grown in the six years since he’s seen her, from the tagalong younger sister into a goddess; gorgeous waves of golden hair, big ice-blue eyes and long eyelashes, soft pink lips and a little button nose, defined cheekbones…

and Gods, her body -- the muscle she’s put on in training for Basgiath, the way the flight leathers hug every curve of her waist and hips, squeeze every muscle of her thighs, all that dark black contrasting with the bits of pale skin peeking out from her collar and her sleeves… 

Garrick has always considered himself a gentleman, prided himself on being a man who thinks with his head instead of his dick, but Sloane Mairi has him re-evaluating those statements. 

Definitely wrong. Undoubtedly, incredibly wrong. Well… 

She’s an adult, he reasons. A dragon rider, even. She’s capable of making her own decisions, of defending herself with both body and mind -- she’d always been sharp-tongued, even before their lives went to shit; it’s one of the things he’d liked most about her. That and her laugh, that lovely sound that he thought he’d never hear again.

Nope. Still wrong.

It should feel wrong, he decides. It is wrong. It is so fucking wrong to sit here imagining her skin on his, how easy it would be to heft her over one shoulder and carry her up to his room, how soft and small she’d feel underneath him, those gorgeous blue eyes rolling back as he— 

Stop it, he hisses to himself, gritting his teeth. If he wasn’t in public right now, wasn’t sitting in the middle of the mess hall pretending to listen to Bodhi’s blathering about gods-know-what, he’d slap himself across the face.

Liam is totally going to haunt him for this. He’d deserve it -- the bro-code applies even in the afterlife; no perving on sisters allowed, older or younger, and Sloane is definitely younger. She’s hardly old enough to drink, for godssakes.

He could really use a drink himself right now, but that might make this even worse.

“Four years isn’t that much, even in the context of your little human lifespan,” Chradh reasons, sounding like he’s enjoying this — of fucking course he is. He’s always liked watching Garrick squirm.

“What about the fact that I’m her superior officer?”

“A small ethical complication, I agree. But if you don’t stake your claim, someone else will,” Chradh muses. “Someone might have already.”

Garrick’s about to snap back, to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, when he finally notices who she’s sitting with, whose joke she’s laughing at, who’s shoulder she’s touching. 

He’s going to bend his fork in half from how hard he’s gripping it. 

Stupid, spoiled princes and their ceaseless fucking meddling in his life. First Alic and his outspoken hatred of Garrick and the other marked ones, going as far as making an attempt on his life during threshing. He would be dead, had Xaden not intervened; Alic had the conviction to go through with it, but he’d been a coward, jumping someone who had their back turned.

And now that prick’s little brother is flirting with his girl, not a care in the world, not a thought in that pretty little head. He hadn’t even known Liam, or their parents. He has no idea what she’s been through. What business does he have giving her a shoulder to cry on, when his dear old dad had been the one to decide to execute eighty-six mothers and fathers, to orphan a hundred and seven innocent children in one fell swoop and to sentence them all to life serving the crown -- if they made it out of that deathtrap school first?

And she has no idea who he is under that little working-class costume he’s been wearing for the last four months. Aaric Graycastle. Come on. Using the first name of the last king and putting castle in the surname? Not subtle at all. 

Neither of the apples fell far from the idiot tree, apparently. If Halden is as stupid as his brothers, then Navarre is doomed. As if it isn’t already. As if it hasn’t been cursed from the moment they tried to conquer Tyrrendor. Serves them fucking right.

At least the brat had jumped ship with them and came to Aretia to finally start living on the right side of history — though that was likely due to his disdain for his father. Does every son of the royal family have daddy issues? Is it a requirement? Something they teach you at those fancy boarding schools in Calldyr? 

Maybe Sloane had been the one to convince him to come along. Maybe Chradh is right — maybe they’re already together.

So help him gods, if that little prick prince lays another hand on his girl, if he tries anything, Garrick is going to beat him to a pulp.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind, then,” Chradh says, snapping Garrick out of his rage.

“What?”  “You called her yours. Twice.”

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Can I ask you a question?”

Janet turned to face her semi-regular visitor, an alternative version of her son, and boy, wasn’t that a sentence?

“Different from the ones I’ve been asking, I mean?”

“Oh course, birdie.”

It had been rather awkward for the both of them the first time Janet had instinctively used a pet name that she used for her own Tim, one that his Mother had also used for him.

He had blinked away tears so quickly that if she hadn’t known all versions of her son so dearly she would have thought she had imagined it.

From that point on she made sure to only call him Tim or Birdie, a pet based off his hero identity, (and it still took the breath out of her lungs to think about any version of her baby fighting criminals with nothing but a belt full of tools and a metal staff. Her fear for him was not at all canceled out by her pride). The name deemed safe since her own Tim was a civilian.

Though, even “Tim” got confusing sometimes when trying to differentiate between her son and the son of dead version of herself.

She had asked if it would perhaps be better to call him Jackson and he had frowned at the suggestion, suggesting Alvin or Carl as alternatives instead with a sudden, sly smirk and a snicker when he saw her expression.

He smiled at her now, a soft, gentle thing, that spoke of comfort but his eyes were sad.

“Do you think…” he paused, “Do you think, if things were reversed between our worlds and you had passed, sorry, this is, uh, um a pretty heavy question...”

Tim trailed off, eyes glued to the bare white wall across from him and Janet walked over and sat beside him, not touching, just silently offering support.

“It’s okay, it’s obviously burdening you, let me carry some of the weight. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”

“If it were you that had die-passed, and your Tim had access to trans-dimensional travel, would it… would it make you sad or hurt your feelings if your Tim was to visit my mom?”

Janet paused, thinking it over.

Tim didn’t look at her, allowing her to consider her words carefully.

“A little bit, I think. Not hurt, but sad, because of course my preference would be to be a part of his life. However, even if it would make me a little sad, it would mean the world to me that another Janet was able to open up her arms to my son, that he had found a way to ease his pain, even if just a little bit.”

He smiled at her and it was watery.

“You know, when I come to visit, I take the information you give me and I go though my Mama’s stuff, almost like I’m gathering clues here and putting the pieces together there.”

He paused, trying and failing to not fidget.

“I had no idea, about the Emily Dickinson poem, until you told me and then I went home and she had used that poem in a couple of her poems and social media posts.”

He leaned in to her space.

“It’s nice, getting to learn about her, even now that she’s gone… I appreciate you, you giving me the chance to do so.”

Janet gently bumped shoulders with him, “Of course, Birdie.”

“It also kind of feels weird,” he confessed, “to investigate my own mom like this.”

Janet hummed, and took a chance, “Well, you are two anthropologists’ son, investigating the dead is kind of in your blood.”

Tim choked out a laugh, “Yeah,” he huffed out, voice low and rough but still amused, “guess you’re right.”

He leaned back against the sofa, “She’d love that, I think, being an anthropological revelation.”

“I’d be flattered, certainly.”

Tim snickered at that.

“Do you think your Tim is gonna be an anthologist. Like you and his dad?”

Janet hummed, “Maybe. He enjoys coming out to digs on holidays and summer vacations. But he also enjoys his photography and he keeps making jokes, that I’m not entirely sure are actually jokes about becoming a professional skateboarder.”

Tim snorted in amusement, “Well, I’m rooting for him if he goes for it.”

Janet grinned. “I will too, if that’s his passion in life, though I will expect him to have a backup plan, of course.”

“Of course.” Tim agreed.

“Anything but vigilante!” She shook his shoulder gently, “I already have one of those to worry about!”

He laughed, and he didn’t sound like her own Tim when he laughed.

He sounded like her, or well, she thought, another version of me.

——

I wrote a lot of words just to say I’m not over Batman (2016) #134 & I never will be ^.^

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SIX ♡

paige x azzi

warning: explicit language, sexual content

word count: 11.3k

A/N: Alright so this is long as hell 😭. Like I was saying earlier the spicy scene is a little detailed so be prepared for that. If you recognize the outfits I mentioned for their date you know they both looked good as hell in them lol. The comments and live reactions everyone leaves after they read makes my day so please keep it up!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 December 2023 

Paige and Azzi had spent the last few weeks navigating the complexities of their new dynamic. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. Their conversations, jokes, and banter came back effortlessly, as though no time had passed. But, now there was an added layer of tension in each interaction that they both struggled to ignore. 

They had crossed the line, and the memory of it lingered on both of their minds constantly. Laying in one another’s beds all the time or sharing a quick or playful touch carried a tension that hadn’t been there before Halloween. So they were both trying to find their footing in this uncharted territory. 

Despite the fact that they both clearly wanted to go there again, they agreed they needed to take time to fully trust one another and build their foundation before jumping into something. Paige had to learn to trust that Azzi wasn’t going to just up and leave, she had to learn how to allow herself to be with someone. Azzi had to trust that Paige was genuinely in it for the long haul, not the old Paige who would get bored and discard her like a fleeting hookup. The agreement seemed reasonable, even necessary. But despite their best intentions, they found themselves slipping up all the time. 

One of the first times happened after practice. They were lounging casually in Paige’s room, a routine born out of habit and comfort because Paige swore her bed was more comfortable. Azzi’s leg was thrown over Paige’s as Paige sat up, massaging out the lingering soreness from the last road game. Azzi’s old injury from her time at UMD still had a way of acting up sometimes, and Paige, being a good ‘teammate,’ insisted on helping every time.

“I still don’t get how this keeps happening,” Paige said, pressing her thumbs into the muscle just above Azzi’s knee. Her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued to apply firm pressure. “You’ve been so good with your recovery lately.”

Azzi shrugged lightly, her head resting back against the headboard. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo about the long plane ride.”

Paige huffed a small laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m basically a pro at this now.” Her hands worked skillfully over Azzi’s leg, her fingers kneading the muscle with a mix of care and precision.

Azzi let out a quiet hum of appreciation. “Mm. You are really good at this.”

Paige smirked, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s briefly. “I’m just good with my hands,” she replied smoothly, her tone teasing but carrying a hint of pride.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah trust me I remember.”

The words lingered between them, heavy just as Azzi intended. Paige kept her focus on Azzi’s leg, but the silence spoke volumes, the air between them a little thick with tension.

Azzi broke it first, her voice soft but pointed. “You tense up every time I hint at us having sex, you know.”

Paige blinked, her hands faltering for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning confusion.

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her tone was light, but there was a seriousness beneath it.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands resuming their work as she focused intently on Azzi’s knee which was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe one of those dreams of yours was too detailed Az.”

Azzi chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side as she studied Paige. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Because I seem to remember you were very, very thorough.”

Paige, usually brimming with confidence that bordered on cocky, faltered slightly, her usual composure slipping. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, though a faint flush crept up her neck.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back against the headboard, completely at ease. “Right. My mistake,” she said smoothly, her eyes locking with Paige’s deliberately. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a warmth that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. “But seriously though, don’t stop. It feels so good.”

Clearing her throat, Paige tried to play it off. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, focusing her attention back on Azzi’s knee.

“You started it,” Azzi countered, her voice light but tinged with something Paige couldn’t place.

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Fair enough.” She adjusted her grip, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot.

The sound that escaped Azzi was too close to something Paige had heard in an entirely different context. The sound sent a jolt through her, and she froze for a moment, her hands stilling against Azzi’s leg.

Paige glanced up, her pupils now slightly dilated as her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. The look Azzi gave her was steady, unflinching, but there was something in it that made Paige’s pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and quickly looked away.

“I, uh… I need water,” Paige mumbled, already shifting Azzi’s leg to stand.

Before she could move, Azzi’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her wrist. “Wait,” Azzi said softly, her tone was calm but insistent.

Paige hesitated, her gaze flicking to where Azzi’s fingers held her. She could feel the warmth of Azzi’s touch, the quiet undeniable firmness in the gesture. Slowly, Paige looked back at her, her expression slightly guarded.

“Azzi…” Paige said, her voice low, her tone almost a warning.

Azzi didn’t let go. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Paige’s face. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Paige asked, the slight waver in her voice betraying her.

“Run,” Azzi said simply, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Every time things get… interesting…you find an excuse to leave.”

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not running,” she protested weakly, though even she didn’t believe the words.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then stay.”

The challenge in Azzi’s voice was clear, and it made Paige’s stomach flip. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn’t have the words.

Azzi’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly, enough to pull Paige forward, closer to her on the bed. Paige could see the resolve in her eyes, the quiet determination that didn’t really leave room for disagreement. Then, without warning, Azzi tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. The moment their lips touched everything seemed to pause. A stillness that made Paige’s heart skip before it began racing. 

So Paige froze at first, her mind running a dozen directions and a dozen scenarios, but then Azzi’s arms wrapped around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss as her hands wrapped softly around the nape of her neck. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense, as if Azzi was pulling her into something that didn’t allow for hesitation. Paige felt the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the heat spreading as instinct took over and her free hand found its way to Azzi’s cheek as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, all the questions. All that mattered was the way Azzi’s lips felt against hers, the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another so naturally.

But as their bodies pressed closer and the kiss deepend, something in Paige stirred, so she broke the kiss softly pulling back just enough to catch her breath much to Azzi’s protest. 

Paige’s voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Paige's face. “Why not?”

Paige shook her head, feeling the way her mind was racing. “We’re not ready yet Az.”

Azzi furrowed her brow. “Why can’t we just let things happen naturally? We’re in a good place, aren’t we? I’m fine, P I promise.”

Without a word, Paige reached over and unlocked her phone and passed it to Azzi. She watched her closely, her expression softening.

Azzi took the phone, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go through it,” Paige urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

Azzi hesitated, a knot of doubt forming in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was behind that request although part of her knew it was absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, Paige…”

Paige’s tone softened, almost pleading. “I swear, there’s nothing in there. It's just... I need you to trust me and see for yourself.” 

Azzi sighed, fighting the anxiety that bubbled inside her. Paige was constantly reassuring her, but part of her still feared what she might find. So with a resigned sigh, Azzi locked the phone again and tossed it gently back to Paige.

“I don’t need to see it, Paige,” Azzi muttered, her voice strained.

Paige's now softly pointing out, “You can’t even go through my phone without being scared, Az. We’re not ready, and I want us to be ready before we go there again.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously playing with each other. A wave of sadness washed over her, guilt twisting in her chest. She felt torn—wanting to trust Paige, but something in her held back, unsure, afraid of what she might find. A mix of emotions swirled through her brain making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Paige, sensing the internal struggle, moved closer. She gently grabbed Azzi's jaw, lifting her head until their eyes met. Her voice was soft but firm, the sincerity clear in every word. “It’s okay. We’ll get there. We just need a little more time.”

Azzi nodded silently, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Paige smiled, her touch gentle as she settled back into her previous position, resuming the soothing massage on Azzi’s knee as the energy in the room slowly shifted back to normal.

…

Then there was today, a few weeks later Paige was leaning casually against the wall waiting for Azzi to get out of class, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she chatted with a girl Azzi didn’t recognize. Azzi was walking toward her, her pace slowing slightly as she took in the sight. Paige’s easy smile, the way she gestured animatedly, and the way the girl was giving Paige her undivided attention—all of it caused something to simmer in Azzi’s chest.

But Azzi didn’t let it show. She schooled her expression into neutrality as she approached, stopping just short of Paige. Paige caught sight of her and broke into a huge smile, her face lighting up effortlessly.

“Hey Azzi” Paige said, her voice casual as she turned to the girl. “Thank you, I appreciate the support!”

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Paige for just a second too long before walking away. Azzi’s eyes followed her briefly, her jaw tightening.

As they made their way to Paige’s car, she threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders the way she always did now when they were walking but the walk was silent. To Paige, it was a comfortable kind of silence, one she didn’t think twice about. For Azzi, it was anything but.

By the time they arrived at their empty suite, Azzi’s frustration had bubbled to the surface at Paige not saying anything. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary and turned to Paige.

“Who was that?” Azzi asked, her tone clipped.

Paige blinked, confused as these were the first words Azzi was saying to her. “Who was who?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “The girl you were talking to.”

Paige shrugged, her expression indifferent. “I don’t know. Some random fan asking about our next game.”

Azzi scoffed, her expression tightening. “A fan, huh? Right. Because you’re always just casually talking to fans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asked, her confusion evident

Azzi’s voice was sharp, but quieter now, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it out loud. “It means I’ve seen how you are with people, Paige. I know how easy it is for you to flirt without even realizing it.”

Paige groaned, throwing her hands up. “Azzi, come on. She was literally asking about the next game. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, something Paige couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” Paige asked again, her voice growing slightly.

Azzi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe you weren’t trying to. But she didn’t look like she was asking about the game, Paige.”

Paige huffed, her frustration mounting. “I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re acting like I cheated or something!”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, and her voice dropped even further. “I’m not saying that. But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes… to wonder if maybe you’re getting bored.”

Paige froze, her eyebrows knitting together. “Bored? Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi’s gaze fell, and her voice softened, no longer sharp but tinged with vulnerability. “We just haven’t defined anything. And we haven’t… you know… since that first time. I just—sometimes I don’t know where we stand, Paige and I don’t know if us trying to figure this out is enough for you. If us waiting is boring to you.”

Paige blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. Her frustration tangled with guilt, but she couldn’t find the words to make Azzi feel better. “Azzi…”

Azzi stepped back slightly.. “You’re so used to being wanted by everyone and getting what you want whenever you want it. It’s not like I don’t know that. I just..waiting is a little frustrating and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Paige repeated, her voice rising slightly. “No, Azzi, don’t do that. Don’t act like this is just on me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m literally here with you.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone weary now. “I don’t want to argue with you, Paige. Not about this right now, I was just being jealous it’s stupid.”

She turned and started toward her room, but Paige followed her. “No, wait. Don’t walk away.”

Azzi stopped just inside her room, bending over to grab something from her desk. Without looking back, she said lightly, “Seriously, Paige, I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

Paige’s frustration was boiling over. She hated the weight in Azzi’s voice, hated how the words stuck in her own throat. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to make Azzi see that there was nothing else—no one else—that mattered to her. That waiting for Azzi didn’t bother her. 

Before she could think twice about it, Paige crossed the room in two quick strides. Without hesitation she grabbed Azi’s arm, softly spinning her around. Before either of them could speak, Paige’s lips crashed against Azzi’s. The kiss was full of frustration, need, and every unspoken word between them. 

For a moment, Azzi froze, caught off guard, but then her body melted into Paige’s. Her hands clenching the fabric of Paige’s shirt pulling her closer as she kissed her back with just as much intensity. The argument dissolved between them, replaced by something much more raw.

Paige pulled Azzi backwards, guiding her with each step. Their lips never parted, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as each of them let out their frustration at their situation. Paige barely registered the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees before she fell onto it, Azzi following instantly. Azzi straddled her, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt tightly as their mouths locked in a rhythm that burned away their anger and replaced it with pure desire. 

Paige groaned into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi rolled her hips into Paige’s pressing their bodies closer, the kiss growing heavier with every second. Paige’s hands instinctively wrapped firmly around Azz’s waist, trying to steady herself but pull Azzi closer at the same time. The touch seemed to encourage Azzi who broke from Paige’s lips and began trailing urgent kisses down her neck. 

Paige’s breath hitched, her head tilting back as a shiver ran through her. “Fuck Azzi–” she whispered, her voice caught between a desperate plea and a low moan. 

At the sound of this Azzi froze. Her lips hovered over Paige’s skin, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Slowly Azzi pulled back, her breathing uneven as she propped herself up slightly with a hand on Paige’s chest, her dark eyes clouded with something indecipherable. 

Paige lay beneath her, her blue eyes dark with pure desire but also something softer—a quiet vulnerability that tugged at Azzi’s chest, that made Azzi want to just say forget it. But Azzi sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers before climbing off of Paige entirely.

The abruptness of the movement made Paige sit up on her elbows, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Azzi,” she started, her voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Azzi shook her head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Paige watched her closely, but her heart clenched when she saw Azzi grab her gym bag. A sudden panic flared within her. Paige scrambled to her feet, her voice pitching higher. “Where are you going?”

Azzi slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing at Paige with a calmness that didn’t match the rising tension in Paige’s chest. “I’m going to the gym.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. Azzi’s response was completely rational, but it didn’t stop the surge of panic that overtook her. She stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Azzi, wait. Please don’t go.”

Azzi’s expression softened already knowing what was going through Paige’s head. “Paige—”

“I’m sorry,” Paige interrupted, her words tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to push—I don’t know why I did that. Just, don’t go. Please.”

Azzi exhaled, the weight of Paige’s fear pressing down on her. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice dripping with warmth. “It’s not what you think. I’m not leaving. I just need to clear my head, okay?

But Paige’s unease was written all over her face. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted as if to plead further. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re walking out. You’re just…leaving. And what if–”

Azzi sighed again, cutting her off gently but firmly, before dropping her bag and stepping forward grabbing Paige’s hand. She led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. Azzi knelt in front of her, placing her hands gently on Paige’s knees.

“Paige,” she started, her voice firm but tender. Paige tried to interrupt, shaking her head, but Azzi caught her face in her hands, making her look directly at her.

“Listen to me,” Azzi said, her voice steady. “I’m not leaving. Baby, I promise you, I’m not leaving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, the emotions swirling in her chest almost too much to bear. “But you’re going to the gym,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “And I–I don’t know, it feels like…like you’re leaving because I messed up, and I–”

“Hey. I’m just going to the gym,” Azzi cut in gently, her thumbs brushing over Paige’s cheeks. “You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about that. We were arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, and I just need a little time to clear my head. That’s all. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want this to spiral. We both just need a little time to settle and calm down.”

Paige blinked, her mind beginning to grasp Azzi’s words. Slowly, she nodded, the realization dawning on her as her breathing steadied. “You promise?”

Azzi smiled softly, letting her hands linger on Paige’s cheeks for a moment whispering “I promise P,” before she pulled back. She slowly stood and grabbed her phone and gym bag again, heading toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she glanced back at Paige, noticing the way her mind still seemed to race, her unease still faintly visible.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before walking back to her. She bent down in front of Paige again, her brown eyes warm as they met Paige’s. “Paige I promise you I’ll be back. I was being irrational and I just need a little time to think baby.”

Paige nodded again, her lips quirking into the faintest smile at the word ‘baby.’

Then, Azzi leaned in and kissed Paige—softly, gently, with a tenderness that melted away the last of Paige’s fears.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige managed a small smile, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Okay,” she whispered.

Azzi gave her one last reassuring look before standing and heading out, the door clicking softly behind her. This time, when Azzi walked out, Paige didn’t panic. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing her lips as she continued to smile faintly.  Her heart settled as her mind finally began to quiet. 

Later that night, Azzi returned to the suite with a steaming bag of Noodles & Company and a shirley temple. The soft glow from the TV lit up Paige’s face as she sat with her legs spread on the couch, her headset slightly askew as she focused on her game of Fortnite yelling about who knows what. When Paige looked up and saw Azzi standing there, her smile was radiant—so pure and full of warmth that Azzi swore she’d never forget it as it made her heart skip a beat. 

“I’m back,” Azzi said softly, holding up the food.

Ice, sprawled on the armchair groaned dramatically, flicking a chip at Azzi. “I see how it is–bring noodles for Paige but nothing for me. Your favorite child”

Azzi laughed, her eyes never leaving Paige. “You can have what I got for myself,” she teased, handing Ice the bottle of water with a smirk.

Ice rolled her eyes. “You’re such a simp.”

Paige chuckled at that, but Azzi didn’t care. With a soft smile, she walked over and plucked Paige’s headset off her head.

“Hey!” Paige protested, reaching for it, but Azzi was already tugging her to her feet.

“Time to take a break,” Azzi said, her voice playful but firm.

“One more game,” Paige whined, her lips jutting into a pout.

Azzi shook her head, laughing. “Nope. My room. Now.”

Paige huffed but followed Azzi willingly, shooting a teasing glance at Ice, who muttered something about third-wheeling and how they never feed their child as they disappeared into Azzi’s room.

Once inside, Azzi set the food on her desk, but Paige crossed her arms, staring her down. “You’re eating some of this,” she insisted.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I brought it for you, you know.”

“And I’m sharing it with you,” Paige said, already opening the box and poking around with a fork. “Sit.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping back and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a grin. Paige sat on the bed beside her, the container of noodles in her hand. She held out a forkful of noodles, her gaze locked on Azzi’s as she leaned in a little closer.

“Really?” Azzi asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Really,” Paige replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi sighed but leaned forward, letting Paige feed her. They laughed as Paige made a show of wiping a stray noodle from Azzi’s chin, her touch lingering just a second too long.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not being subtle, you know.”

Paige grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry.”

Azzi laughed softly, her hand brushing over Paige’s, lingering just for a second. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start getting other ideas about where this night is going.”

Paige's smile widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. ”

This statement makes Azzi raise her eyebrow at the blonde sitting in front of her.

Paige just laughs, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her food. “Get your head out of the gutter, we’re watching Kyrie highlights.” 

This immediately makes Azzi groan. 

They continued eating as the quiet settled around them, neither of them noticing how natural it all felt—how their earlier tension had dissolved into something lighter, softer.

As Paige scooped up another bite of noodles and tried to offer it to her, Azzi caught her wrist gently, stopping her. Paige looked at her, confused.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Azzi said softly, her brown eyes filled with admiration.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

Azzi leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, Azzi.”

They continued eating, sharing the container of noodles as a comfortable quiet settled between them. Every now and then, Paige would sneak a bite in Azzi’s direction, insisting she eat more despite Azzi’s protests. Paige was adamant, though, grinning as she held out another forkful until Azzi rolled her eyes and relented, letting out a playful sigh of defeat.

When Paige reached for her shirley temple, Azzi playfully made a grab for it, earning a sharp glare and a dramatic clutch of the cup from Paige. “Don’t even think about it this is where I draw the line,” Paige warned, her tone light but firm, causing Azzi to laugh, her head shaking at Paige’s possessiveness over the drink.

The quiet moments stretched between them, filled with warmth and contentment. As Paige leaned back against the headboard, her mind felt unusually calm. The endless worries, the fears that usually gnawed at her, were nowhere to be found. Azzi’s presence anchored her—a steady, quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.

Azzi, meanwhile, watched Paige smile and laugh, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now. She could see it in the way Paige looked at her, in the easy way Paige seemed to settle into their shared space. Paige being at home waiting for her. This wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t temporary. Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

As Paige set the empty container aside, she leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Out of nowhere, she broke the silence. “Let me take you on a date,” she said, her voice casual, as if she were suggesting they go for a walk.

Azzi blinked, slightly caught off guard. “A date?” she repeated, her tone curious, as if needing to clarify what she’d just heard.

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Paige, you’ve never been on a date in your life,” she teased, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “Then you can be my first. It’ll just be dinner. That’s what people do on first dates, right?”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, a warm sound that filled the room. “Sure, P,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s earnest expression. “You can take me on a date.”

“Perfect,” Paige said, her grin widening. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Azzi repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “What if I’m busy?”

Paige tilted her head, giving Azzi a pointed look. “We have the same schedule. You’re free.”

Azzi playfully scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. “But don’t think this means I’m easy to impress.”

Paige leaned closer, her confidence never wavering. “Oh, I don’t need to impress you,” she teased, her voice dropping just enough to send a slight shiver through Azzi. “You’re already impressed by everything I do.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile.

“Ridiculous enough for you to go on a date with me,” Paige shot back, settling back into the pillows with a triumphant grin.

…

The next night rolled around, and Paige found herself standing outside the door of her own suite, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She’d insisted that if this was going to be a real date, she had to pick Azzi up properly. So to make it authentic, she’d gotten ready in Nika’s room, leaving Azzi to prepare in the suite they shared.

Now, as she stood there, her nerves betrayed her usual confidence. Paige wiped her hands on her pants and took a steadying breath, the flowers trembling slightly in her grip. When the door finally opened, any composure she’d mustered vanished.

Azzi stood before her in a matching hot pink set: shorts and a blazer-like jacket that hung open to reveal an extremely cropped black shirt underneath, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit framed her toned stomach perfectly, her belly piercing catching the light, while the silver heart necklace Paige had given her rested against her skin.

Paige’s breath hitched, her words disappearing entirely as she stared. Azzi, blushing ever so slightly under the weight of Paige’s gaze, let out a soft laugh. “Do you like it?” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of shyness despite her confident appearance.

Paige finally snapped her mouth shut, her lips curving into a goofy smile. “Woah… yeah…you look amazing, Azzi,” she managed, her voice quieter than usual.

Then she remembered the flowers still in her hand and thrust them forward a little awkwardly. “These are for you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her brown eyes sparkling as she took the bouquet. “Thank you,” she said warmly, clearly charmed by how flustered Paige was—a rarity for the usually self-absorbed blonde.

Azzi turned and walked back into the suite to find a vase for the flowers. Paige stayed rooted in place, still lingering by the doorway. Her gaze followed Azzi as the other girl moved effortlessly, her perfume lingering in the air where she had stood. Paige exhaled slowly, her heart pounding as she realized how completely Azzi had captivated her.

As Azzi walked back toward the door, her eyes flickered over Paige, taking in every detail. Paige had her hair down, slightly wavy—just the way Azzi liked it—and was wearing a knitted cardigan adorned with delicate flowers and a white shirt underneath it. Her patchwork blue jeans, with their various shades of denim, added a casual yet stylish touch that somehow made her look a little too good in Azzi’s eyes. 

Azzi’s gaze lingered as she raked her eyes over Paige’s figure, a subtle appreciation shining in her expression. Paige, noticing this, seemed to regain her usual confidence. The nervous energy from earlier faded, replaced by a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“What?” Paige teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head. “You already eye fucking me, and we haven’t even left yet?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s sudden shift in demeanor, but her cheeks warmed as she laughed softly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she shot back, brushing past Paige and bumping her shoulder lightly.

Paige chuckled, stepping aside to let Azzi pass, but her smirk only deepened. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Azzi to take. “Let’s get this date started before you decide you can’t wait.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face as she slipped her hand into Paige’s. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already decided.”

…

When they arrived at the restaurant, Paige made a point to pull Azzi’s seat out for her, earning a soft, amused smile. After ensuring Azzi was comfortably seated, Paige settled into her own chair, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

Azzi noticed the subtle nervous energy radiating from Paige and leaned forward, her smile warm and reassuring. “You know you don’t need to be nervous, right? It’s just us. We’ve had dinner together hundreds of times.”

Paige, not one to admit she was rattled, plastered on a confident grin. “Psh, nervous? Me? I’ve got this in the bag,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, though her knee bouncing under the table told a different story.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re such a liar. You’re literally fidgeting right now.”

Paige stilled her hands and raised a brow. “Okay, first of all, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just... uh, practicing my reflexes. Athletes do that, you know. Second, this is going to be the best date you’ve ever been on, so sit back and enjoy, Ms. Fudd.”

Azzi chuckled, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige smirked, relaxing slightly as they fell into their usual rhythm. The conversation shifted to light teasing like always 

Azzi grinned as Paige described an admittedly clumsy move during practice earlier that week that led to a turnover. “So you’re saying your hands couldn’t keep up, huh?” Azzi teased, her voice dropping just enough to add a layer of meaning.

Paige rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Not everyone has your freakishly perfect coordination, Az.”

“Good thing I remember you being pretty coordinated when it actually counts…” Azzi replied smoothly, her voice low and full of suggestion.

Paige froze mid-breath, her jaw dropping open as her brain scrambled to process Azzi’s words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk wide as she watched Paige’s stunned expression. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before Paige could even think of a response, the waiter approached their table, her attention immediately drawn to Paige. With a charming smile, she addressed Paige warmly, completely ignoring Azzi.

Paige, however, didn’t even notice the waiter’s presence. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Azzi, her expression a mix of desire, admiration, and pure shock.

Azzi glanced at the waiter, then back at Paige, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Earth to Paige,” she said teasingly, lightly kicking her under the table.

Paige blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. “Huh?” she mumbled, her head jerking toward the waiter, who was now waiting patiently with an amused expression.

The waiter gave Paige a quick once-over before flashing a flirtatious smile. “I was just asking, if you’re ready to order? I’m sure whatever you choose will be just as good as you look,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

Paige, still a little dazed, didn’t even acknowledge the compliment, her eyes having already drifted back to Azzi. Without missing a beat, she motioned toward Azzi, murmuring, “Um she’ll order for both of us.”

Azzi smirked at the subtle way Paige brushed the girl off. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, and she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, with a side of the mashed potatoes,” she said smoothly, locking eyes with the waiter.

The waiter gave a quick nod, clearly a little taken aback by Azzi’s effortless command, before she turned and walked away. 

Azzi, not letting her teasing moment pass, leaned in and whispered, “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that?”

Paige finally shook herself out of her stupor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You like making me do that, don’t you?”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. It’s cute how much I can get to you with just a few words.”

Azzi and Paige continued their light conversation, the air between them easy and familiar as they waited for their food to come out. 

As she returned with their food, her smile widening as she set the plates down in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Paige once more, and she leaned slightly closer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice soft, her tone unmistakably suggestive.

Paige, busy unwrapping her silverware, didn’t bother looking at the waiter. Instead, she gestured toward Azzi. “You can ask her,” she said dismissively, her tone a little flat.

Azzi’s lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. With deliberate ease, she reached across the table, letting her hand rest just near Paige’s wrist. She kept her touch subtle, a silent claim that didn’t go unnoticed by Paige, whose posture relaxed slightly as she smiled to herself.

Azzi finally turned her gaze to the waiter, her smile polite but sharp. “We’re all set, thanks,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for interpretation.

The waiter hesitated, clearly missing—or choosing to ignore—the subtext. She turned her attention back to Paige, leaning forward slightly. “Well, if you change your mind... you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes glinting with boldness as she lingered at the table longer than necessary.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her amusement growing at the audacity of the girl in front of her. So her fingers shifted, brushing just barely against Paige’s wrist now, her touch featherlight but deliberate. Paige’s breath slightly hitched, her eyes darting to Azzi as her face began to flush at the soft touch.

Azzi, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward slightly. Her voice dropped, soft and teasing but with a possessive undertone that was impossible to miss. “Paige, baby,” she murmured, her thumb starting a slow, deliberate stroke against the inside of Paige’s wrist as she looked her in the eyes. “Is there anything you need from her?”

Paige’s lips parted, her breath slightly stuttering as she stared at Azzi in awe. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No... I'm good,” she said, the words rushed but sincere, clearly immersed in the control Azzi was putting forward.

Azzi smirked, her fingers sliding down to lightly intertwine with Paige’s. She didn’t grip too tightly, just enough to make her point as she finally turned her attention back to the waiter. “See? She’s good,” Azzi said, her tone sweet but pointed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The waiter faltered, her confidence cracking as her eyes flicked between them, taking in the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor as she was once again completely immersed in Azzi. “I was just being friendly,” she said, her smile now strained.

Azzi’s smile tightened, and her grip on Paige’s hand squeezed just slightly, her thumb brushing along the back of Paige’s knuckles. “Friendly’s fine,” she said lightly, her tone still sweet but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Just not with her.” 

The waiter finally seemed to understand she was losing ground. With a tight, awkward smile, she mumbled, “Well... enjoy your meal,” before walking away without another word.

As the waiter disappeared, Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her thumb lazily resuming its strokes against Paige’s hand. “That was cute,” Azzi teased, her smirk widening as she watched Paige squirm.

Paige groaned, finally tugging her hand free and leaning forward to hide her face in her hands. “You’re kinda crazy Az,” she muttered, though her soft laugh betrayed her words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk still firmly in place as she picked up her fork. “Well I guess that’s the first new thing you’ll learn about me,” she said casually, giving Paige a look. “I really don’t like sharing.”

Paige peeked at her from between her fingers, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type,” she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

Azzi’s smile widened as she shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about being jealous,” she replied smoothly.. She tilted her head toward where the waiter had retreated. “I just know how to put people in their place.”

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “No need,” she said casually. “I don’t see anybody but you at this point.”

The simplicity of Paige's words struck Azzi unexpectedly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a warmth in the sincerity of it all, a reassurance that settled deep in her, and in that moment, Azzi realized how much she wanted to give herself over completely to Paige. It wasn’t just about the date or the playful teasing anymore—it was about something real, something she could feel in her bones.

A while later Azzi was grinning as Paige gave her another bite of her food, making her comment softly, “You know, this is the first date I’ve actually enjoyed.”

Paige cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cocky grin. “Of course it is,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. “Whatever,” she muttered playfully, but the affection in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t deny how much this meant to her.

Paige, with a teasing glint in her eye, reached for another bite of food, offering it to Azzi again. But Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock glare. “Are you actually going to eat any of your food, or are you just planning on giving it all to me?”

Paige shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You need to eat.”

Azzi glanced down at her plate, clearly making progress in her meal. “I’m eating,” she said, giving Paige an exaggerated look. Azzi picked up a forkful of her salmon and waved it in front of Paige’s face. “Here. You try it. It’s actually pretty good.”

Paige recoiled dramatically, holding up her hands. “Oh no, I’m good. You know I don’t do salmon.”

Azzi made a face, then went for the classic move. She looked at Paige with the most exaggerated, pleading puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Please? Just one bite? For me?”

Paige sighed dramatically, resisting for only a moment. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

But before Azzi could even manage a victorious grin, Paige relented. “Fine. One bite.” She said with mock reluctance and let Azzi feed her a bite of the salmon.

Paige chewed it slowly, her face a picture of careful deliberation. She swallowed and then, after a long pause, gave Azzi a look that was half-amused, half-disgusted.

Azzi was already smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grumbles in disagreement as she eats some of her food to get rid of the taste. 

As they continued talking Paige was mid-bite when a small bit of mashed potato found its way to her lip. She didn’t notice at first but Azzi did. So with a playful smirk, Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Paige's skin as she gently wiped the spot from her lip with her index finger. As she pulled her hand back, Azzi made a deliberate show of slowly licking the mashed potato off her finger, her gaze locked with Paige’s the entire time. The movement was teasing, a mix of subtle flirtation and confidence that left Paige a little breathless.

Paige couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azzi as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she managed to speak, her voice low, almost a whisper as she simply said, “Azzi please.”

Azzi tilted her head innocently, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Yes, Paige?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing, loving the control she had over Paige. 

Paige swallowed hard, her heart racing as she licked her lips. “You’re killing me tonight,” she murmured, her gaze never breaking from Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile widened, her voice dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just slightly closer across the table. “I know, baby,” she replied smoothly.

The air around them seemed to shift. The noise of the restaurant, the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations—all faded into the background as Paige and Azzi stayed locked in each other’s gaze. Paige’s pupils dilated, her blue eyes growing darker under the intensity of Azzi’s stare. 

Azzi, fully aware of the effect she was having, didn’t look away. There was a challenge in her gaze now, an unspoken dare, almost as if she was silently urging Paige to make the next move. 

Paige clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to pull Azzi closer, to end the dinner and take her home. She could feel her composure slipping away, and Azzi, with that smile still firmly in place, was more than happy to push her further.

Azzi’s gaze never wavered as she subtly shifted her hand, her fingers brushing against Paige's with a deliberate slowness as she let their fingers intertwine, a small yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of heat through Paige’s body. Azzi’s touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to completely throw off Paige’s concentration.

Paige had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could barely think straight with the way Azzi was looking at her. So she took a slow breath, trying to ground herself, but Azzi’s hand holding hers kept her tethered in the moment. 

“Open your eyes P,” Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but it carried authority, a command wrapped in sweetness. The edge in her tone made Paige’s stomach tighten.

Paige slowly opened her eyes, finding herself once again lost in the depths of Azzi’s gaze immediately. There was no escaping it now. She was completely under Azzi’s spell, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape at all. Azzi’s fingers tightened around hers, their palms pressed together as the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only them.

Azzi’s gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and something darker, something that Paige could feel even before the question left her lips.

Paige, unable to look away, let a slow smile curl at the corners of her mouth. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” she said, her voice low. 

Azzi’s smile widened, her eyes flickering with mischief and desire. “Take me home then,” she said, the words slipping from her lips like a secret, a command wrapped in temptation.

That was all it took.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She threw a couple of bills onto the table—definitely more than enough to cover the tab—and stood up. Both of them heading for Paige’s car with a little extra pep in their step. 

…

Once they get to the suite, Azzi starts walking towards her room, but Paige grabs her hand pulling her towards her room that’s further from Ice’s, trying to spare the girl. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as she lets Paige lead her. As they step into Paige’s room she wastes no time shutting the door behind them and locking it. 

Paige flicks on her led lamp to lightly illuminate the room and before she can gather her bearings, Azzi’s hands were on her, as she gently pushed her back against the door. Paige’s back hit it with a soft thud, her breath catching in her throat at Azzi’s confidence and her pulse quickening slightly as she met Azzi’s smile with a grin of her own. Azzi’s smile was a slow, teasing smile–one that made Paige feel like she was already a step behind in whatever was happening in Azzi’s head. 

Azzi studied her for a moment, clearly enjoying the way Paige’s body seemed to melt at her touch. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons on Paige's cardigan, her fingers grazing the fabric as she slowly started unbuttoning it. "You always look so damn good," Azzi murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. "You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me feel."

With each button undone, the white shirt underneath was revealed, the fabric clinging slightly to Paige’s frame, teasing Azzi. The room felt unbearably warm, and Paige was basically trembling, unsure if it was from desire or the intensity of Azzi's gaze.

Azzi stopped halfway through unbuttoning, her fingers still resting on the cardigan. "Tell me…" she whispered, leaning in close, her breath brushing against Paige's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Paige’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form an answer. She could feel the heat of Azzi's body so close to hers, her lips barely brushing her ear with each whispered word. She couldn’t even formulate a response. She had never felt like this before, had never been the one with a loss of words.

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s flustered expression, enjoying the way Paige’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she finished unbuttoning Paige’s sweater. With a deliberate slowness Azzi brushed the cardigan off Paige’s shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Her fingers trailed down Paige’s waist, coming to rest on her belt as she began undoing it as she watched Paige’s every reaction. Azzi's touch was firm but gentle, pulling Paige just slightly towards her, guiding them slowly toward the bed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Azzi's gaze was soft but undeniably commanding, filled with an unspoken promise that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“I want you,” Azz whispered, her voice low and laced with desire. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” 

Paige finally found her voice, her tone softer, almost vulnerable as she asked, “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she nodded, the softness of her gaze only intensifying the fire between them.

Azzi’s confirmation was all Paige needed as she immediately reached for Azzi, pulling her into a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate, their breaths mingling as the moment consumed them. Azzi’s fingers, still toying with Paige’s belt, moved to undo it with an effortless confidence that made Paige’s pulse quicken. 

Before she knew it, Paige was guiding Azzi backward the rest of the way toward the bed, her grip steady but filled with an unspoken urgency. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips, letting herself be pushed down, her body melting into the mattress. 

The sight of Paige standing above her, her belt now hanging open and her eyes completely dilated with want was enough to make Azzi bite her lip, her gaze also dark. Her hand found its way to Paige’s loose belt gently tugging Paige toward her. “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she teased, her voice dripping with desire. 

Azzi watches as Paige takes off her jeans, never breaking eye contact. As soon as she’s done she’s climbing on the bed, hovering over Azzi as their lips meet again, this time softer but no less consuming, Each kiss feeling like a promise, a declaration as they become lost in one another. 

Paige’s hands moved expertly, finding the edges of Azzi’s blazer. With a gentle tug, she slipped it off Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing against Azzi's warm skin. Azzi sat up slightly to help, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as the blazer fell away, leaving her in the cropped black shirt that clung to her frame tightly. 

Paige’s breath caught for a moment as her gaze roamed over Azzi, her hands lightly tracing along the hem of her shirt. “You’re incredible,” Paige whispered, her voice tinged with awe. 

Azzi smiles at Paige’s words, her expression soft at the girl on top of her. Without saying a word, she reached up, pulling Paige toward her again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was much more intense than the last. 

The kiss grew heavier with each moment, Paige swiping her tongue across Azzi’s lips asking for access that Azzi immediately grants as the world outside the room fades away, their focus narrowing to just the two of them. Azzi’s hands roam Paige’s sides, her touch firm, sending jolts of excitement through Paige’s skin. 

Azzi breaks the kiss briefly, pushing Paige slightly back with a playful smirk. Paige looked at her, breathless, as Azzi’s hands reached for the hem of her shirt. With a smooth motion, Azzi pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside before meeting Paige’s gaze again who had also quickly discarded her white shirt. 

The sight of Azzi like this left Paige momentarily stunned. But before she could linger on the image too long trying to capture it for memory, Azzi pulled her back in, their lips meeting again matching the intensity right where they left off. 

Azzi began making soft noises into Paige’s mouth, each sound sending a warmth through her body. It drove Paige absolutely crazy, her restraint slipping more and more with every passing second. 

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige murmured, her voice low as she pulled back just enough to begin pressing her lips to Azzi’s neck. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

Azzi let out another quiet, breathy moan at the attention she was getting, her hands grabbing Paige’s waist as she tilted her head to the side granting Paige better access. “I think I do,” she whispered, her voice teasing but strained.

Paige’s lips and teeth worked along Azzi’s neck, her kisses alternating between soft and firm as she trailed down to the delicate curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her collarbone. Azzi’s hands slide up Paige’s back, pulling her impossibly closer. “Right there baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly as Paige’s lips and tongue lingered on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Shit you feel so good,” Azzi breathed, her words almost inaudible but thick with emotion. 

Her voice was like music to Paige’s ears, the way it shook with every touch drove her to keep going. Paige’s lips curled into a slight smile against Azzi’s skin as she dragged her mouth lower, savoring the soft gasps and whispered encouragement Azzi continued to spill. 

“Perfect,” Azzi murmured, when Paige’s lips met her waist. Her voice melted into something low and satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

Paige groaned softly at the words, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as she whispered back, “You’re killing me Azzi baby.”

Azzi laughed softly, though it was laced with breathlessness. “Then don’t hold back,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t want you to.” Before Azzi could even process what she was asking for, the rest of her clothes were pulled off skilfully in a quick motion. 

Paige’s actions fueled by Azzi’s words, every whispered encouragement and breathless murmur driving her as she finally gave Azzi exactly what she wanted, pouring every ounce of her desire and affection into her touch. 

Azzi made sure Paige knew exactly how much she was enjoying every moment of it. Her voice a symphony of soft gasps, murmured praises, and loud moans, echoing through the room without a care for who might hear. 

“Fuck baby…yes just like that,” Azzi said breathlessly, her hands threading through Paige’s hair, tugging lightly as her head titled back and her hips moved to reach Paige’s movements. “Don’t stop..please, don’t stop.”

Paige just hummed as she pressed closer, her lips and hands working in perfect rhythm, completely consumed by Azzi’s responses. Each sound Azzi made spurring her on more, her own restraint dissolving as she focused on the girl beneath her. 

“You’re amazing,” Azzi murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her nails grabbing Paige’s shoulders. “I need you, Paige. Just you.” 

Paige’s heart raced at the confession, her fingers growing more intense as she kissed her way back to Azzi’s lips, capturing her in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless. 

Azzi’s laughter bubbled up between gasps, a mix of pure joy and overwhelming sensation at the way Paige was touching her. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” she admitted, her voice shaky but full of affection, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she spoke. 

Paige’s fingers continued their rhythm inside Azzi, as her voice dipped into a tone so soft yet full of conviction. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words wrapping around Azzi. “Every part of you, Azzi…I could get lost in your forever.” 

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the words. Paige didn’t stop there, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she added, “You’re everything to me Az. So perfect. I promise you I’m only yours.”

The praise sent so much warmth through Azzi and she arched slightly, her head tilting back as her lips parted. “Paige..” she murmured her voice trembling with emotion. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s back, holding onto her as if she were her anchor, grounding her in this moment. 

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering, her brown eyes dark with passion yet soft with adoration. Paige’s blue eyes mirrored the same intensity, her pupils dilated as she took in every inch of the girl beneath her. 

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Azzi whispered, her voice breathy but firm, her fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her fingers curled perfectly inside of her. 

Azzi began trembling beneath Paige biting her lip trying to hold onto some resemblance of control, her body completely attuned to every touch, every word, the way their gaze was locked onto one another. Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she was trying to steady herself but kept failing. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Paige wasn’t having it. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, her voice low but commanding, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she hovered over her. “Look at me,” 

Azzi’s long lashes flickered as she tried to open her eyes but the feeling was too much for her. Paige’s free hand gently cupped her jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she spoke again, this time softer but just as firm. “Open your eyes, Az. I want you to look at me while you finish for me baby.” 

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her lids lifting slowly until their eyes met once more. The second their gazes locked it was like Azzi couldn’t take anymore as her mouth fell open, the sheer intimacy of the moment causing a sound to escape Azzi’s lips–louder and more unrestrained than she expected. It was uncharacteristically loud for someone usually so composed but she didn’t care. “God, baby right there... please Paige... don't…fuck please don’t stop,” every word laced with need and vulnerability before she’s throwing her head back coming undone for Paige. 

Paige smiles at the sound of Azzi's voice as she leans in and kisses her slowly, their tongue tasting every part of each other as Paige's pace slows, just enough to make Azzi's body ache with the contrast. Azzi's breath comes in shallow gasps, every inch of her skin alive with need.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her thumb still stroking Azzi’s cheek. “You did so good for me,” she murmured, her words laced with affection and pride.

Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s back as she was still trying to anchor herself. Her voice trembled as she replied, “You… you’re going to ruin me, Paige.”

Paige leaned closer, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “I won’t baby, I got you. I promise.”

The exchange sent another wave of shivers through Azzi, her body arching instinctively toward Paige as she started moving again, unable to resist the pull between them. She looks up at Paige pleading for something-anything more.

Paige notices the way Azzi's body trembles under her, how her breath hitches every time she curls her fingers. Her voice drops, soothing but commanding, "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

The words themselves are almost a command, but they're gentle, like a touch trying to calm the chaos in Azzi’s chest as it rises and falls rapidly, trying to obey, but she feels the pressure inside her building again, tighter this time. Paige's thumb presses into her as she continues her movements deliberate but slow, a stark contrast to how Azzi's body wants to react.

Paige can tell Azzi’s body is going into overdrive so she starts speaking to her. "Focus on me," Paige murmurs near Azzi’s ear, her voice smooth and low, sending ripples of warmth through Azzi. "Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow." She moves her hand in small, measured circles, pushing Azzi right to the edge and pulling her back. "You're doing so good Azzi. Just breathe through it, baby. Let me guide you."

Azzi's entire body is trembling, her mind racing to keep up with the ebb and flow of pleasure. It feels like it's almost too much, but Paige's steady control-her voice, her hands keeps her grounded. The way she talks to her, calm but firm, drives Azzi crazy, and all she can do is follow, surrendering her body to the rhythm Paige has set.

"Tell me how it feels," Paige says, softly. "I wanna hear you some more for me baby."

Azzi opens her mouth, but no coherent words come out-only the sound of desperate, broken breaths as she forces herself to focus on Paige, her voice, her eyes, her touch.

"Feels... feels so good, Paige baby... I can't-" Her voice cracks, the tension too much to contain, but Paige doesn't speed up. She waits, her touch still steady.

"Good just like that baby. Breathe. You're almost there," Paige whispers, coaxing Azzi through it, her own voice filled with desire and pure admiration of the girl underneath her.

Azzi looks up at Paige, her eyes glazed over with need as she’s straining to keep them open. She trembles slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she murmurs, "P I can’t— I can't take anymore."

Paige’s hand shifts to lightly wrap around Azzi’s neck, gently but firmly guiding her gaze to her eyes, making sure she doesn’t look away. She squeezes slightly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s skin as she speaks, her voice steady but soft, full of encouragement. “Yes, you can. Just relax baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

Azzi nods, trying to steady her racing heart, her breaths shallow as she sinks into the rhythm of Paige's touch. As Paige squeezes again, Azzi’s hand moves to cover Paige’s, her fingers curling around hers, squeezing tighter as she gazes directly into Paige’s eyes. The sensation sparks something deep inside her, and without breaking eye contact, she whispers, "Harder, baby."

The words are a desperate plea, the intensity of her need clear in her voice. Paige’s eyes never leave Azzi’s as her breath hitches and the pressure builds. Azzi, feeling her body react, presses her hips closer to Paige’s movements, her chest rising and falling faster. “Fuck Paige right there, don’t stop,” Azzi breathes out, her voice low and almost frantic. “Mmm make me feel it baby, show me how much you miss fucking me.”

Paige tightens her grip, feeling Azzi’s pulse beneath her fingertips, and Azzi’s body continues to tremble with anticipation as Paige quickens her movements, fingers curling as she moves in and out of Azzi. Paige’s voice is low, almost teasing, as she murmurs, “You’re taking it so well baby fuck, you look so good under me.”

Azzi’s fingers curl tighter around Paige’s wrist, urging her on. “Yes, just like that,” Azzi whispers, her voice filled with a desire that only Paige can satisfy. “Harder, please Paige, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Paige’s touch becomes more deliberate, the pressure firm and her movements unrelenting as Azzi’s breathing quickens. She feels the way Azzi’s body reacts, every tremble and sigh pushing her to give her more. Paige leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispers, “You’re so gorgeous baby, so perfect…I always knew how pretty you would sound.”

Azzi moans softly, unable to stop the sounds escaping her lips, each one more desperate than the last as Paige’s gaze burns into her. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them thick a shared silence where only the sound of their heavy breathing and Paige’s fingers moving in and out of Azzi remains. 

After a few more seconds, Azzi's body gives in, a burning release overtaking her body again as she arches her back off the bed. A chorus of breathless moans escaping her lips.

Paige's heart stirs at the sight as she removes her hand from Azzi’s neck immediately and without hesitation. She leans down, kissing her cheek gently as if she's taking away the last bit of tension that still clung to Azzi's body. She whispers, "God you're so beautiful Az. You mean everything to me," before leaning her lips down to Azzi's, their kiss soft, almost loving.

Azzi's eyes flutter shut, her hands coming down to wrap around Paige's head as she lets the kiss ground her. It's slow and tender and everything Azzi needs. 

Paige starts kissing down Azzi’s body, ready to keep going but Azzi’s hand shoots out, gently but firmly stopping her. Her breath comes in shaky gasps as she looks at Paige with exhaustion and a small sight of desire. “Baby…I can’t. Physically… I can’t take anymore right now, I need a break.” She says, her voice strained, the edge of exhaustion clear.

Paige’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, the challenge in her eyes only growing more playful. Before she can say anything, Azzi—still struggling to catch her breath—manages a shaky smile and jokes, “Shut up, Paige. Seriously, just… shut up for a second."

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I’ll give you a break but I hope you can keep up because I plan on doing this all night,” she teased softly, her voice low and dripping with warmth.

Azzi responded with a quiet hum of agreement, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to pull her back into another soft slow kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of the night still ahead.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up groggily, the bright sunlight streaming through the window making it impossible to stay asleep. She stirred, trying to stretch, but stopped when she felt a comforting weight pinning her down. Azzi’s body was draped halfway over her, the other half sprawled across the bed. Paige couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on Azzi’s face, her soft features illuminated by the morning light.

A quiet laugh escaped Paige’s lips as she realized Azzi was definitely going to blame her for letting her fall asleep without her bonnet, she could already hear the teasing tone in her voice.

As if sensing Paige’s thoughts, Azzi began to stir, a groan slipping past her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, why is it so bright?” she mumbled, echoing Paige’s earlier thoughts.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her body to block the sunlight from hitting Azzi’s face. “Better?” she asked gently, her voice warm and teasing.

When Azzi finally looked up at her, a sleepy smile spread across her face, her dimples appearing as her cheeks flushed slightly. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Azzi’s smile grew wider at the compliment, but she quickly tried to hide her face against Paige’s chest. “Mmm, too sleepy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Paige laughed quietly and carefully shifted out from under Azzi, earning a small, dissatisfied grumble from her. She walked over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains closed and plunging the room into a comforting darkness.

As she returned to the bed, Azzi wasted no time, tugging Paige back down and pulling her close but before Paige could settle in, Azzi leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Paige’s heart immediately fluttered at the tenderness of the moment, how casual Azzi was about it.

“Go back to sleep,” Azzi whispered, her words barely audible as she rested her head on Paige’s chest once more.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and with Azzi’s steady breaths against her, Paige felt a sense of peace she hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep as Paige realized she was completely in love with the girl laying on her chest.

[sleekervae]

Wicked Games ❅ 7

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: Coriolanus confides in Sable

Warnings: blood and flesh wound, mentions of violence and murder

Word Count: 5,073

It was no surprise that the attack had been the forefront of the news tonight, instead of highlighting any details from the debate. There was talk of whether another debate should be rescheduled to make up for the lost time, while some late night news outlets had the gaul to call the attack a "publicity stunt". After all, Coriolanus was a hero -- to some people, at least.

He had been rushed to the infirmary, besides the wound in his shoulder he only suffered some minor bumps and bruises. Garrison and Tigris finally managed to rendezvous with Coriolanus as well, fearful yet so, so grateful that he was okay. Sable wasn't family, so she wasn't allowed into the infirmary ward. Nevertheless, she sat outside in her dress and her heels, staring blankly at the stone white wall as she waited for... something. Any update would at least give her reeling mind something else to focus on.

Coriolanus killed a man.

Growing up in the rebellion, Sable had unfortunately come across her fair share of deaths; some more violent than others. She never really watched violence become so glorified until she came to the Capitol, where she couldn't escape the wretched Hunger Games no matter where she went. Oh sure, she'd do her best to avoid the violent acts the best she could, but tonight there was no getting away from it.

Terror flooded Sable’s veins, raw and relentless. It wasn’t just the nightmarish vision of blood spilling across the convention floor that clung to her, or the horrific sounds of panic from the crowd—it was Coriolanus. He had stood on that stage, unflinching, so utterly composed as he loomed over the poor soul’s lifeless body. His face was a mask, devoid of emotion, as if the violence had merely been a task to complete, something mundane. That was what truly frightened her.

She replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. The way his grip had tightened on the microphone stand, the lethal focus in his eyes as he stared down his attacker. And afterward, the eerie calm that settled over him, like nothing had happened. Like taking a life was just another part of the game. There was no trembling, no shock in his demeanor. Only cold, calculating detachment.

Sable’s heart twisted, her stomach knotting with unease. It was one thing to be ambitious, to make strategic moves in their political arena, but to be so unaffected by the death of a man—that unnerved her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

She had no qualms about continuing their partnership. It was still mutually beneficial, and they both needed this arrangement to further their ambitions. But now, she had something new to look out for. Coriolanus had always been driven, determined, and a little dangerous, but now she understood how far that danger could go. It wasn’t just a game for him anymore—he was willing to do whatever it took, no matter the cost.

The realization weighed heavy on her chest. She had always prided herself on being able to read people, to anticipate their next moves. But now she wasn’t sure what Coriolanus would do next, or how far he would go to secure his position. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Sable drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Not when the stakes were so high.

"Sable," Tigris's voice carried down the hall, effectively snapping the socialite from her own head, "You're still here," she sounded more surprised than anything, though she appeared grateful as she came to stand before her.

Sable nodded, her shoulders tense as her face flooded with concern, "Yes -- I... I mean I wanted to know if he's... is he--?"

"He's fine," Tigris assured her, taking the seat next to her, "The wound is superficial but the doctor wants him to rest for a couple days. Good luck, I guess," she simpered anxiously.

The girls sat side-by-side, their eyes drawn to the far wall as if the chaos from earlier still lingered in the shadows. It was only now, in the heavy silence of the room, that Sable realized how little she truly knew about Tigris Snow. Despite their occasional meetings and the growing partnership between her and Coriolanus, she had never really spoken to Tigris, never dug deeper into the woman who had been by his side for so long. Their connection was shallow at best—much like her connection to Coriolanus himself.

"That was scary," Sable admitted, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress until her knuckles turned white. The tension was still humming in her veins, her thoughts spiralling back to the bloodshed and the disquieting calm in Coriolanus’s eyes, "I haven’t seen such chaos since… the rebellion, I guess."

Tigris nodded, her expression distant but knowing, lips pursed as if she, too, was wandering down those dark corridors of memory. The rebellion had been a lifetime ago, yet the scars it left were still visible, woven into the very fabric of their world, "It never really leaves you," Tigris said quietly, her voice low and measured, "The fear. The uncertainty,"

She didn’t need to say more for Sable to understand. They all carried the weight of the rebellion on their shoulders, some heavier than others. For Coriolanus and Tigris, it was not just the loss of their family’s fortune or status—it was survival. The things they’d done, the lines they’d crossed, and the decisions made during those desperate times had shaped them into who they were now.

"He’s changed," Tigris continued, her eyes lowering to her lap as though the admission cost her something. "Corio… he’s not the boy I remember. So much was taken from him. Not just the rebellion, but the Hunger Games. What you saw tonight… it’s not the first time..."

Sable swallowed hard, her stomach twisting at the thought. The rebellion had been brutal, sure, but it hadn’t stripped her of her ability to feel. She could still remember the panic, the helplessness, the way the Capitol turned against itself. But Coriolanus? He had been in the thick of it, navigating survival in ways she couldn’t imagine. Even in the Hunger Games, eighteen-years-old and despite all the chagrins, he somehow managed to keep his head on.

"He's always been able to detach like that?" Sable asked, though she already suspected the answer.

Tigris looked away, her gaze distant as though reliving moments from years past, "There have times he had no choice. It’s how he survived." Her voice was tight with emotion, a trace of sadness lacing her words. "But now… I don’t know if he remembers how to stop. Or if he even wants to,"

Sable bit her lip, the weight of Tigris’s words settling in her chest. This wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about power. Control. Coriolanus was chasing something far more dangerous than mere victory, and she was tethered to him, willingly or not.

"Is that what this is for him?" Sable murmured, almost to herself. "Another battle to survive?"

Tigris glanced at her, a faint sadness in her eyes, "Perhaps. But it’s also a battle he intends to win at any cost,"

Sable shivered, her mind replaying the way Coriolanus had stood over the attacker’s body, unbothered, unshaken. She had agreed to this partnership knowing it was dangerous, knowing that Coriolanus was driven by ambition. But now, she was beginning to realize just how far that ambition could go—and how little room there might be for her, or anyone else, should they get in his way.

"Be careful," Tigris said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Whatever this is between you two… just be careful,"

Sable nodded, though she wasn’t sure what else to say. The line between her and Coriolanus was becoming dangerously blurred, and for the first time, she wondered whether she was in over her head.

Coriolanus went home that night, though sleep remained elusive. He lay in the dark, his mind racing, the events of the evening playing on a loop in his head. The moment the attacker had rushed the stage, the instinctual way he had grabbed the microphone stand, the sharp crack of the impact—those seconds had felt both agonizingly slow and lightning fast. Even now, hours later, the adrenaline still hummed faintly beneath his skin.

He turned over, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to Sable. What must she have thought as she watched him, calm and calculated in the midst of chaos? He had caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye—her wide, shocked expression, the way her body had gone rigid in her seat. She’d seen him in control before, but never like this. Never so cold, so utterly detached from the violence.

There was no denying it—she had to be scared of him now.

He couldn’t blame her. The calm that had come over him wasn’t something he could easily explain, not in a way that would make sense to her. She hadn’t been through what he had—hadn’t seen the Hunger Games and its fallout the way he did. He learned to keep his emotions in check because emotions were liabilities, distractions. And in the world he was aiming to rule, there was no room for those.

Still, a part of him wondered if he had overplayed his hand. Sable was his ally, a vital part of his campaign. He couldn’t afford to lose her trust. But after tonight… had that trust been shattered? He knew how observant she was, how quickly she could read a situation, and tonight she had witnessed something deeper than the charm he’d usually wrapped around himself like armor.

He thought back to her gaze when their eyes had locked after the attack. There was no relief, no reassurance. Only fear. It was a look that he couldn’t shake.

What would she do now?

Sable was smart, calculating in her own way, and he knew better than to underestimate her. But he also knew she wasn’t like him. She wasn’t built for the kind of ruthlessness that came as second nature to him. Would she still see him as her partner, or would she start seeing him as a threat? Would she try to distance herself, put space between them as a way to protect herself? Or would she play along, pretending nothing had changed while silently reassessing everything?

He couldn't quite predict her next move.

He winced as he rolled over again, the wound under his bandage tugging painfully at his shoulder. Coriolanus shut his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had bigger things to focus on—the debate, the campaign, his rise to the top. But in the back of his mind, Sable lingered like a shadow, and he knew that this partnership, whatever it was becoming, had shifted. She had seen something tonight that couldn’t be unseen.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Coriolanus knew the audience had been watching too. Every move, every reaction, carefully documented and filed away in their minds. He had remained cool in the face of chaos, but was that what they wanted? Or had they seen a man too comfortable with violence, too detached from the humanity of it all?

Was this the beginning of his rise—or the start of his downfall?

In the shadows of that question, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard the doorbell reverberate through the penthouse. Coriolanus sat up sharply, the chill of the night air biting at his skin as he glanced at the clock. It was far too late for visitors, and his security detail was supposed to prevent unannounced guests from even reaching his door. Tigris or Garrison would've let him know beforehand if they dropped by.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling on a robe before padding silently toward the entrance. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. The events of the night had already left him on edge—was this another escalation?

As he neared the door, Coriolanus took a steadying breath, his hand hovering over the handle before he yanked it open. His eyes widened in surprise.

There, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was Sable.

"How did you get in here?" His voice was sharp, more out of confusion than aggression. He searched her face, noting the tension in her jaw, the slight tremor in her hands as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Sable shrugged casually, but there was an edge to her voice, "Nice to see you, too,"

"Sable..."

"Your doorman likes me, what can I say?"

Her answer didn't satisfy him. His grip tightened on the doorframe as he scanned the empty hall behind her. No guards. No sign of how she had bypassed the extensive security measures.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, though his words lacked conviction. A part of him was relieved to see her, despite the suddenness of her appearance.

Sable took a step closer, her gaze piercing as she looked up at him. "I wanted to see you."

"For what? To tell me you want out?" His words hung in the air, heavy still. He studied her, trying to gauge what had driven her to show up at his door in the middle of the night.

"I don't want out," she said softly, though he could hear the waver in her voice.

"Then what do you want?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing.

For a long moment, Sable didn't answer. She just stood there, her eyes locked on his, as if searching for something—maybe the man she had thought he was, or maybe a glimpse of the one who had calmly taken a life hours before.

"I wanted to see if you're okay," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're my friend."

Coriolanus stared at her, her words hanging in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. Friend. The weight of that single word settled over him like a shroud, pressing against the image he had so carefully crafted of himself. There was no simple answer to that sentiment, and he knew it. Sable had witnessed something tonight that couldn't be undone, something darker—something that had always existed beneath the surface, now laid bare for her to see.

He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of fear or doubt, but all he saw was concern. Genuine concern. And that unnerved him more than anything else.

"I don't need you to worry about me," Coriolanus replied, his tone measured but distant. "I'm fine,"

Sable took a step closer, the tension in the space between them thickening. "I know you're fine. But that doesn’t mean you’re okay." Her gaze softened, lingering on him as if she could see through the layers of composure he wore.

Coriolanus let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly, "This is what we signed up for. What I signed up for," he said, though it felt like a hollow justification even as the words left his mouth.

Sable didn’t respond right away. She simply stood there, watching him with that same unreadable expression, "It doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone,"

Her words, simple as they were, stirred something in him—something dangerous, something he couldn’t afford to feel.

"...Are you gonna' invite me in, or do I just get to stand here and look pretty?" Sable teased, the tension between them shifting with her playful tone, though the weight of the night still lingered.

Coriolanus blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the change in mood. Her lightness was disarming, and for a moment, it almost felt like things could return to their usual banter. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter, "I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing both,"

She glided past him, her usual air of confidence intact, but as she crossed the threshold into his space, there was a subtle hesitation in her step. Coriolanus noticed. It was as if, despite the teasing, she was still processing what had happened. And, in truth, so was he.

As he closed the door behind her, a part of him wondered why he had let her in—why he hadn't kept her at arm's length, as he had with everyone else.

Sable had changed out of her dress from before, now wrapped in a cozy grey wool sweater and a black skirt that fell just above her knees. It was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than blue, and the sight made him simper as she settled into his couch. She wasn't so much sultry now as she was... cute. Plainly and simply cute.

“So, you do own other colors,” Coriolanus remarked, sitting across from her, his tone lightly teasing.

Sable met his gaze, smirking back, “That’s more than I can say for you,”

He let out a low chuckle, leaning back, "I have other colors," he assured her. Sable cocked her head, glancing up and down at his broad physique in the rich red housecoat, "... Besides this,"

“Oh, of course,” Sable nodded, her eyes softening with a hint of concern. His bandage was peaking from under the lapel of his house coat, a faint shade of red soaking through, “How’s the wing?”

“Fine,” Coriolanus replied, though the physical wound wasn’t what truly ached. “I just have to take it easy for the rest of the week.”

“Did the doctor tell you that, or is it more of a 'suggestion'?” she asked, an eyebrow quirking up.

“I’m fine, Sable,” he assured her, a touch more firmly this time, trying to dispel the topic with his tone. He didn’t want to discuss it, not when other wounds—the deeper ones—were still fresh.

She leaned back slightly, her fingers absentmindedly grazing the edge of the couch. There was a silence between them, the kind that felt loaded, waiting for one of them to break it.

“You’ve… done it before, haven’t you?” Sable’s voice was barely above a whisper, but her words sliced through the quiet like a blade. Her eyes met his, no judgment in them—just curiosity. Maybe even fear.

Coriolanus stared at her, the weight of her question sinking in. He could feel it—the unspoken horror of what she’d witnessed, still hanging between them. She had seen him in a way no one else had -- no one still alive, anyway -- and that knowledge made this moment heavier than it should have been.

“Why do you ask?” he finally responded, his voice low, cautious.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, looking away for a moment as if searching for the right words, “The way you handled it… You were so calm. Like it wasn’t anything new,”

She glanced back at him, waiting for him to fill the silence with an answer that could either draw them closer or push her further into the distance.

"... Are you scared of me?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

Sable shrugged, her eyes drifting down to the coffee table between them. An empty mug sat there, faint tea stains lining the inside—clearly neglected for some time. Next to it, a well-worn book on chess lay open, its spine cracked and frayed from overuse. Of course. Coriolanus treated life like a chess game. Every move calculated, every decision a strategy. That much was obvious.

But this? This wasn’t just a game.

"No," she murmured, though her voice faltered, uncertain. Her gaze remained fixed on anything but him. "I grew up in the peak of the rebellion. District 3 was in chaos—neighbors turning on neighbors, people killing over the smallest scraps of food. There was a time when we had no housing, and we had to sleep in the church basement… surrounded by rats," she paused, a shudder passing through her, "So many nights I'd wake up screaming, finding them chewing at my fingers,"

Coriolanus's eyes drifted down to her hands, now perfectly manicured and moisturized. He again noticed the faint, almost invisible scars that lined her fingers and palms, remnants of a past she’d never spoken of until now.

"That's terrifying for an adult, let alone a child," he noted.

"Yes," she looked at him again, "You've killed before, haven't you?" she asked again.

With bated breath, Coriolanus tentatively admitted, "Yes, I have,"

"Who?"

"... three or four people,"

Sable scoffed quietly, "We're not counting candies, Coriolanus. Was it three or four people?"

Coriolanus slumped back in his seat, weighed down by memories that clung to him like shadows. The faces, the names, they never left him: Bobbin, Mayfair, Sejanus... He hadn't pulled the trigger on his friend, but his actions had sealed Sejanus’s fate. He may as well have been the one to execute him. And then there was Lucy Gray...

“I don’t know if... the fourth might’ve gotten away,” he muttered darkly. “I never found her again.”

He half-expected Sable to recoil, to stand up and walk out of his life. It would’ve been the smart choice. She should’ve left him sitting there, a man with too many bodies weighing on his conscience. But she didn’t move. Instead, she stayed rooted in her seat, her gaze fixed on him, watching an exhausted predator licking his wounds.

"Were they a means to an end?" she asked, her voice a careful balance between cautious and curious.

“Yes,” he admitted.

"... Would you kill again if you had to?" she asked.

He hesitated before he answered, the weight of his actions bearing heavily on him. The answer however was clear in the depths of his conscience:

"Yes,"

Sable’s eyes never wavered, though he could see the gears turning in her mind. “And if pushed far enough, would you... do the same to me?” Her question hung in the air, both fair and terrifying.

"I can't think of a reason—"

"If pushed, would you hurt me?" Sable asked again, leaving no room for ambiguity.

He didn’t want to answer that, didn’t want to admit the truth that gnawed at him in the quiet corners of his soul. But he knew better. His nature was too greedy, too ruthless. He’d take what he wanted, just like she would. Only, there was one stark difference between them: Sable had never crossed that line. She’d never killed anyone. He wasn't sure if she ever could. She was delicate in a way he no longer was.

But him? He had crossed that line long ago. He’d become something else, something darker—a ticking freak who could snap at any given moment.

And if Sable ever pushed him far enough, he feared the truth. He feared that he could snap at her, too.

"If pushed enough, yes," he finally admitted it, "I don't want to... but I could,"

A tense silence settled between them, the weight of his answer hanging heavily in the air. Two months ago, Coriolanus might not have cared. Sable would have been just another casualty, someone who could easily be added to his secret body count. He could make her disappear with a perfectly crafted lie, something so convenient no one would question him.

But now? Something had shifted. He'd grown to like having her around, grown to appreciate her wit, her sharpness. There was something magnetic about her presence. He might have even been attracted to her in ways he hadn’t fully acknowledged.

Yet that was the problem. One stray decision, one wrong move, and he could destroy her completely. The thought lingered like a dangerous temptation, reminding him that, no matter how close they became, he was capable of destroying her.

Sable should be terrified.

However, she stayed on the couch, looking at him -- through him, really -- and he had to wonder what gears were turning in her mind. Her gaze averted to his bandage, her brow quirked.

"You should change that," she noted, "It's bleeding through,"

Coriolanus followed her gaze to the bandage, brow furrowing as he peeled back his coat lapel. Sure enough, the white gauze was stained with fresh crimson, seeping through in small patches. He hadn't even noticed.

"I’ll manage," he muttered, brushing it off as if it didn’t matter.

But Sable didn’t seem convinced. Without hesitation, she stood from the couch, crossing the room before he could even think to protest.

"Oh, please," she insisted, already finding his bathroom, "Men say they're fine one day, then they're having catheters put in the next,"

Coriolanus blinked, momentarily stunned. The last thing he expected was for her to offer help like this, especially after his... admission. It wasn’t just that she cared, it was that she didn’t seem rattled by the idea of getting close, even after what he’d just admitted to her.

He followed her to the bathroom, finding her rummaging around in what little he had in his medicine cabinet. Her brows furrowed in frustration, "God, you really need to fill this up! Maybe with some pain meds, at least. Some bandages, burn cream..." she huffed, "Everybody burns themselves in the kitchen,"

Coriolanus couldn't help but be amused by her frustration, "You may find this a shock, but I don't cook often," he reached for a drawer in the bathroom counter and pulled it open, revealing a basic collection of gauze and medical tape. Sable glowered back at him.

"Now, was that so hard to tell me?"

"Maybe I just like watching you struggle?"

She hummed as she picked through his supplies, "You must truly be a sadist. Sit," she directed him to the lid-down toilet.

Coriolanus sat back, unsure, watching as she kneeled down beside him, delicate fingers carefully peeling away the blood-soaked bandage. It dawned on him then that this was the closest, physically, they had been in private. No Capitol elites, no rubbernecking reporters, no cameras blinding him. It was just the two of them, blood beginning to stain her fingers as she cleaned up around his gash.

He found Sable maddeningly complex—annoying in her ability to read between his carefully crafted lines, manipulative in the way she twisted conversations to suit her agenda. Yet, despite the frustration she stirred in him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She moved through his world like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve, and it drove him to the edge, tempting him with the allure of understanding her layers. He knew there was danger in letting her get too close, yet her unpredictability only deepened his fascination. Even as she knelt before him now, tending to his wound with a gentleness that clashed with her sharpness, he was drawn to her in a way that defied all logic.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended.

Sable didn’t look up, her focus on his wound, "Maybe I’m just not scared of you like you think," she replied.

"You should be," he muttered.

Her eyes flicked up then, catching his gaze with an intensity that made his heart skip. Those deep brown eyes, flecked with gold, shimmered in the dim bathroom light. Her lips—so soft, so close—shimmery with gloss, full and inviting. The thought flashed through his mind again, unbidden but undeniable, wondering how they would taste, how she might react if he leaned in just a little closer, if he dared to cross that line.

"Are you telling me, or threatening me?" she asked, her gaze never wavering.

"I'm telling you," he assured her, "I might not be the shiny gold prince you think I am,"

Sable’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she continued to tend to his wound, "Well," she said, her tone light but thoughtful, "I'm not exactly a polished princess either, if you think about it. And yet, here we are,"

Coriolanus chuckled, the sound low and amused, “Are you joking? You're the very definition of 'princess'” he said, his gaze still locked with hers.

"But I got parts of me I'm not gonna show to everyone, just like you," she told him.

"I told you that I could kill you not five minutes ago," he reminded her.

“And do you want to?” she asked, sitting back on her knees, her gaze unwavering and challenging.

The question hung in the air, charged with unspoken tension. Coriolanus observed Sable as she knelt on the bathroom tiles, the flickering light casting delicate shadows across her face. Her position made her appear vulnerable, her delicate frame small and exposed in the dimly lit room.

He couldn't help but notice the way her breath hitched slightly with each movement. Their proximity stirred his thoughts, he could think of a plethora of things he could to do to her... even right here in the bathroom, up high in front of the full scale window. No one in the Capitol would be the wiser to all the carnal things he could do to her, no one would hear how he would make her scream.

Coriolanus shook off the darker thoughts, his gaze returning to her eyes, which remained steady and defiant. The contrast between her calm demeanor and his tumultuous thoughts only deepened his fascination.

“Not right now,” he finally replied, his voice softer, “But I can’t promise you forever,"

Her smile widened as she continued to tend to his wound. "I'm not asking for forever, remember? Just until after the election," she teased, her tone light, "After that—you can do whatever you want with me,"

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, "Sable..."

Her hand rested on his knee, the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of his trousers. She sat back on her knees, her gaze steady and her voice serious, "But if I ever do something that irks you or makes you angry... talk to me first before you consider murder. I'd appreciate it more,"

He couldn’t help but smile at her nonchalance. Despite the gravity of their conversation, her ease brought him a strange comfort, "You're crazy," he remarked.

"So I've been told," she shrugged, rising to her feet.

Coriolanus watched her head toward the sink, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer, "You might be even crazier than I am," he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Sable glanced back at him, a playful glint in her eye as she washed her hands, “I’ll take that as a compliment,”

[reallygroovyninja]

Read the tags

Clarke stepped into the practice area, her presence commanding, the sunlight catching the gleam of her sword. She locked eyes with her trainer, a seasoned warrior known for her sharp mind and unmatched combat skills.

"Clarke," the trainer's voice rang with authority, tempered by respect, "show me your skill. Let me witness the strength and precision of a true warrior."

Clarke's lips curved into a confident smile. She adjusted her stance with practiced ease, the weight of her sword a familiar extension of herself. "Prepare to be impressed," she replied, her voice steady with determination.

The trainer circled her, eyes keen and critical. "Your movements are swift, deliberate," she observed, approval lacing her tone. "But remember, even the most skilled warrior can fall into predictability. Keep your opponent guessing."

Clarke absorbed the advice, her gaze unwavering. "Understood," she said, her voice firm with the confidence of experience.

"Vary your approach, strike from unexpected angles, and adapt to the rhythm of battle." The trainer’s words carried the weight of years of wisdom. "A true warrior knows when to wield power and when to conserve it," she advised. "Master the art of timing, and you will become an unstoppable force."

Determination flared within Clarke as she unleashed a series of strikes, the clash of steel ringing through the air. Each movement was precise, a testament to her rigorous training and the battles that had shaped her.

The trainer’s gaze remained sharp, her voice guiding Clarke to greater mastery. "Channel your focus," she urged, her tone tinged with admiration. "Let the rhythm of combat guide your instincts and trust the skills you’ve honed."

Clarke’s sword sliced through the air with fluid precision, her strikes a perfect balance of strength and control. The dance of combat flowed through her, each move instinctive yet calculated, a reflection of the teachings she had embraced.

As the session wore on, exhaustion crept in, but Clarke pushed forward, her spirit unyielding. She knew that to stay at the pinnacle of her abilities, she had to continually challenge herself. The trainer’s words echoed in her mind, driving her toward excellence.

At last, the session came to an end. Clarke lowered her sword, breath heavy but triumphant. She turned to her trainer, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "Your guidance has sharpened both my blade and my spirit."

The trainer’s gaze softened, a nod of acknowledgment passing between them. "You’ve become a formidable warrior, Clarke," she replied, pride evident in her tone. "Your skill and dedication are a testament to your journey. But remember, a true warrior’s path is one of constant growth and self-reflection."

Clarke nodded, her smile resolute. "I will never stop seeking improvement," she vowed. "I will carry the spirit of a seasoned warrior, always striving to protect and inspire."

With a final nod, the two shared a moment, the bond between teacher and student deepened by the trials they had faced together.

As Clarke completed her sword practice in the bustling training area, she noticed a messenger weaving through the crowd, his pace quickening with each step. His voice, strained with urgency, cut through the noise to reach her.

"Clarke! The elders request your presence immediately," the messenger called, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Clarke's brow furrowed, her focus shifting from her blade to the anxious figure before her. The summons from the elders stirred a mix of curiosity and concern within her. Without hesitation, she sheathed her sword and nodded to the messenger.

"Lead the way," she replied, her voice calm but laced with resolve.

The messenger, visibly relieved by her swift response, turned on his heels and set off at a brisk pace. Clarke followed closely, her senses heightened by the unexpected call. Questions swirled in her mind, each one adding to the tension that hung in the air. What could have prompted such an urgent summons from the elders?

As they navigated the winding paths that led to the heart of the pack's dwelling, Clarke's thoughts raced. She replayed recent events, searching for any clue that might explain the urgency. Was there a looming threat? A crucial decision awaiting her input? Or perhaps news that could alter the future of the pack?

Each step brought her closer to the unknown, her mind bracing for whatever awaited her. The path seemed longer than usual, each turn adding to the weight of anticipation. By the time they reached the elders' chambers, Clarke's resolve was steeled, ready to face whatever challenge or revelation lay ahead.

Clarke entered the meeting room, her footsteps steady but her heart pounding with apprehension. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with anticipation, as the elders awaited her arrival. She took her place among them, her gaze shifting from one elder to another, searching for clues about the weighty announcement to come.

The head elder, their countenance grave yet tinged with empathy, rose from their seat. Their voice resonated with authority as they addressed her. "Clarke," they began, their voice carrying a weight that settled over the room. "Our pack is at a crucial juncture, and it is with great consideration that we inform you of the decision we have reached."

Clarke listened intently, her instincts already whispering of the unexpected path that lay ahead. Her apprehension grew as the head elder continued, their words unfolding the intricate web of their alliance. "In order to strengthen our position, we have entered into an alliance with the rival kingdom of Silvarond" they explained, their voice measured yet resolute. "And it is you, Clarke, who will be joined with their Omega."

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over Clarke as the words sank in. Joining with an Omega from a rival clan was not what she had anticipated. The prospect of uniting with someone she didn't know was daunting enough, but to do so with an Omega from a clan that had been their adversary for generations left her questioning the wisdom of this decision.

She mustered the courage to speak, her voice laced with skepticism and concern. "Forgive me, esteemed elders, but is this truly the best course of action?" Clarke questioned, her words echoing the doubts that swirled within her. "The animosity between our kingdoms runs deep. Can we truly expect unity and harmony from such a union?"

The elders exchanged glances, acknowledging the complexity of the situation. The head elder responded, their voice carrying a mix of understanding and determination. "Clarke, we understand your reservations," they said, their tone compassionate. "But we believe that through this union, we can forge a path towards reconciliation and prosperity. Our hope is to build bridges and mend the wounds that divide our kingdoms."

Clarke's mind raced, grappling with the conflicting emotions that surged within her. The gravity of this decision, the implications it held for both clans, and the responsibilities it would place upon her shoulders weighed heavily on her conscience.

Before she could voice her thoughts further, the head elder spoke again, their words final and resolute. "The joining will take place in one month's time," they announced, their voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Your father will provide you with additional details regarding the stipulations and expectations of this union."

Clarke's heart sank as the reality of the situation sank in. The joining was imminent, and the elders' decision was final. She knew she needed to face her father, to seek guidance and clarity amidst the uncertainty that clouded her thoughts.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Clarke left the meeting room, her steps heavy with the weight of her responsibilities. She sought out her father, their connection a pillar of strength and guidance in times of uncertainty.