#how many words for chest can i come up with

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[windixie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ out of touch ♱ soccer player! gojo x alt! reader pt.1

summary : gojo is the university's most popular boy and soccer player. he can get any girl he wanted to warm up his bed, so why did he catch feelings for the girl who looks like she just woke up out of a coffin?

warnings ☠︎︎ this will contain smut throughout the story. reader is implied to have a smaller chest! gojo is an asshole :( so angst, profanity, insecurities, p in v, creampie, comfort, fluff, slight breeding kink, light choking, jealousy, ill prob add to the list as the story progresses!

word count : 1.03k

let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !!

you knew gojo. hell, everyone knew gojo. annoying, loud, obnoxious, ah should I go on? that's how you described the so called star player on the soccer team. his ego reached all the way towards the clouds by how much he was admired in the community. you on the other hand, not so much. sure you were known by many but not in such a positive way. you were intelligent sure, but the way you dressed wasn't entirely accepted. you were always getting bothered by other students, one of them being no other than satoru gojo. although, it seems that you two have grown into a friendship lately.

"hey pretty" you heard an awfully familiar voice come up behind you. the white haired boy was still in his blue and white soccer jersey covered in grass stains and some of his sweat from his practice that he just came from. you gave him one of your small sweet smiles."hi gojo" you mumbled back.

he looked down at your figure. the pretty black blouse fit you so perfect as well as those mini grey jean shorts that cupped your ass so deliciously. gojo took notice of you wearing your earbuds which he took one of them and placed it in his ear. "whatcha listening to?" you faced him slightly annoyed as you looked at how his face scrunched up in disgust.

"seriously? how can your ears support all that screaming?" he grimaced as he heard the loud singing.

he let out a chuckle at that before his eyes lit up as he realized something. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper handing it to you. you blamed the shot of arousal that traveled towards you as you took notice of how veiny his arms were. you glanced down to see it was a ticket. a ticket to his upcoming soccer game, to be exact.

your eyebrows picked up as you turned to him. "you want me to go to your game?" the question made the blue eyed boy nod. "want you there on the stands baby, if you can, then I promise to play even better than I usually do." you were shocked to say the least. the satoru gojo inviting you to his game personally even after countless months of relentless bullying was not something you could see coming.

but you couldn't help yourself from nodding. "yeah sure ill be there!" the feeling of your heart beating against your chest brought a scary but not unwelcome feeling. You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing things correctly. The blue-eyed boy, a walking angel blessed by God himself, smirked down at you with a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk. It was different—something warmer, maybe? Or maybe you were just imagining it.

"I'd like that."

"great, ill see you tomorrow after school then?" he asked in which you let out an mhm in return. "okay pretty, try and get some sleep. you need some just by judging off your eye bags" he teased. "shut up!"

you watched the taller boy walk off. his use of the sweet and loving names made you feel a little awkward, but you shoved it down. You had a feeling that this was just another one of his ways of throwing you off. It wasn’t like he was being sweet. Not Gojo. He never was.

As you walked off to the other side of where the dormitories where taking note on how the night was now awakening due to time change. as you reached for your AirPods case to put back your earbuds your fingers stopped on your left ear. your earbud was missing.

gojo didn't take notice of the music cutting off. he was in a completely different world thinking about none other than you. he didn't understand how he caught feelings. no matter how many times he reminded himself it was you and how he could do some much better that that. he only gave you to ticket to his game only to be nice, is what he told himself. a friendly gesture friends do all the time!

"yo Satoru!" one of his friends called out to him. gojo turned to look at the boy with long black hair and big ass gauges walking up to him along with some other boys from the team. a smile crept up on his face dabbing them all up. "hey you all did well at practice today"

"yeah man that's what we came to say as well but we saw you talking to that emo freak uh whats her name, y/n?" this made gojo slightly embarrassed on how they caught him. "don't tell me you hitting on that emo pussy, it can't be that good" one of the other teammates chuckled making the white haired boy slightly uncomfortable.

"nah man, too busy with uraume" Geto patted his back "good good, lets keep it that way. she's got a better body anyways. let me burrow her sometime yeah?" the blacked hair boy received a nudge at that making him chuckle.

you looked around you trying to find the taller boy to retrieve your airpod. sighing in relief as you saw him. "gojo!" you called out making the boys turn around.

"ah she came back for round two?"

you walked up to him. "hey uhm you still have my AirPods." you said pointing to his ear. "give back your friend her AirPods satoru" his friend teased.

"we're barely friends. acquaintance is a better term" he mumbled out. as you received back your airpod, you stopped. eyes widening as you heard what he said. "acquaintance? thought we were-"

"friends?" he cut you off. "cmon I pay attention to you two or three times and now suddenly we're friends?" he scoffed. why was he acting like this? that's right, because he's satoru gojo. you were nowhere as close as him. you never will be. your face turned serious before you reached into you pocket handing him the ticket he gave you. "here, you dropped this" you mumbled.

gojos eyes fell down to the ticket in his hands. his heart broke a bit. "wait.. y/n-"

"forget it" with that you retrieved back to the direction to your dorm fighting back tears as you left the boy stunned.

"looks like you hurt her feelings, gonna go apologize?"

"nah."

© 2025 windixie. All work belongs to windixie . please do not copy, repost, plagiarize, any of my works as your own.

[mosoderbergh]

Emmrich and the good old fashioned body heat trope

Ok, there’a a thing about Rook and Emmrich pre-romance and the “caught in the cold” trope that is just beautiful to me. Because it would go a lot more innocently than with other pairings. Emmrich is far too much of a gentleman. But that’s what makes this so cute. Like… hear me out.

Emmrich knows the importance of keeping warm and the advantages of sharing body heat. He’s the sort of man who would read up on survival procedures before venturing out into extreme weather.

But surely, a shirt is thin enough to not significantly hinder the transmission of warmth. Surely he couldn’t be expected to strip entirely. He gets rid of some layers, but stays buttoned up to his neck. (Rook is shirtless the moment the words “it might be advisable to, well, huddle up” exit Emmrich’s mouth. They notice Emmrich spends the rest of the night holding intently focussed eye contact.) They cocoon themselves in blankets, sitting by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, backs leaning against insert obligatory cave/cliffside/tree trunk here. Emmrich has read just enough bodice rippers that an image comes, unbidden, to his mind. Of a broad-chested hero gallantly drawing the object of his desire into his muscled arms as they shiver and swoon. He is shocked at himself when he feels a blush creep up his neck. To even allow such a thought! This is nothing like that. A dashing hero may be present, yes, but they are caught in the cold with a colleague several decades their senior. There is nothing swoonworthy about it.

Emmrich files the thought away, and despite the awkward situation, the evening goes on… really rather pleasantly. They end up talking for a good long while. Rook opens up about their own upbringing and Emmrich elaborates on his. They share nostalgic memories. Emmrich recounts some shenanigans from his student days, and Rook can’t believe there’s a mischievous side to him (the mischievous side in question was called Johanna, but Emmrich doesn’t speak her name).

At some point, the comfortable silences stretch out longer and longer. Rook’s head rests on Emmrich’s shoulder. They aren’t quite asleep yet - when he reacts to the contact with an intake of breath, they draw back for a moment. But then, Emmrich leans in, just slightly. Just enough to let them know the touch is not unwelcome. The way Rook curls up at his side then makes Emmrich ache a little. As someone who is an authority figure to so many people (in a way that isolates him sometimes) this simple act of intimacy is precious to him. A show of trust on such a personal level. It takes him more courage than he’d like to admit to rest his cheek against Rook’s hair. The way Rook sighs contentedly gives him goosebumps. It’s been quite a while since Emmrich has shared a bed with anyone. And this is an unusual situation, but still… he can’t help but think how he has missed it. The companionship. The warmth. Sinking into sleep with the comfort of a friendly presence. The intoxicating closeness of someone who has found their way into his heart - this is another thought he tucks away neatly.

And because I can’t resist another trope, of COURSE they shift in their sleep. Emmrich wakes to find himself spooning Rook, with one hand resting on their stomach. They are soft there, and radiating heat. Emmrich thanks every deity he can recount that he tends to wake up early, because if he hadn’t been hard upon waking, the sensation of their body against his, their skin underneath his fingertips would have done the trick. He retreats discreetly to lie on his back. Only for Rook to shift and settle with their head on his chest, one leg draping over him, grazing his erection in the movement. Emmrich forgets to breathe.

He does wake them up, after he’s gotten a hold of himself somewhat. They untangle from him with a sleepy apology. And Emmrich, for a moment, wants nothing more than to stop them, or pull them back into an embrace, or…

He chastises himself for being a touch-starved old fool. Making so much out of nothing. But then Rook slides a hand up to squeeze his shoulder, and they smile at him brightly, beautifully, and ask him if he slept well. And it’s all he can do to swallow a rather wordy confession of his growing infatuation.

(The beauty of Emmrich, to me, is that he’s both a “I could out-sex any man in this room” kind of guy AND an “omg I can’t believe our hands touched” kind of guy. I love him.)

[imaginespazzi]

Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest. 

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time. 

They’d stayed. 

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people of her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether banana or chocolate chips go better with pancakes. 

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate. 

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it. 

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as shift herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a sword, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck, so close to reaching them but unable to finally get there. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours. 

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl. 

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart. 

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother. 

“Please can we go home now Mama?” 

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream; that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. But Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face. 

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place. 

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentences was going. 

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself. 

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag. 

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. She can feel Drew looking at her; can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own. 

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended. 

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly. 

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different. 

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. 

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them as they turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile. 

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face. 

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing. 

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself. 

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable. 

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige. 

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

*** 

August 2031 

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it.  But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home. 

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas. 

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer. 

Divorce. 

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. 

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them. 

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there. 

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over. 

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid. 

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not. 

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head. 

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails. 

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her. 

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her. 

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world. 

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman. 

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose. 

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name.  Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her. 

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition. 

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow. 

��You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits. 

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride. 

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her. 

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport. 

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words. 

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills. 

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?” 

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand. 

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that. 

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice. 

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found. 

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object. 

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it. 

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi. 

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears. 

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman. 

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck. 

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults. 

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?” 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh. 

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder. 

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does. 

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own. 

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie. 

***

June 2033 

Dream 64      Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream. 

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team. 

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much. 

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence. 

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first. 

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans. 

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

*** 

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing. 

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp.  And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever. 

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything. 

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out. 

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants. 

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her. 

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence. 

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door. 

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue. 

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body. 

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks. 

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again. 

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly. 

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after. 

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh. 

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies. 

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly. 

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.” 

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead. 

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now. 

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032 

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries. 

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually 

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own. 

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie. 

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing. 

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room. 

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance. 

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby. 

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi. 

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone. 

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?” 

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to. 

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself. 

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite. 

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony. 

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost. 

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out. 

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter. 

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around. 

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.  

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie. 

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call. 

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants. 

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room. 

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night. 

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight. 

“Az-” Paige calls out. 

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts. 

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be. 

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. 

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance. 

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat,  followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d  fallen back against the balcony railing. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but. 

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face. 

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan. 

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige. 

Paige looks at Azzi. 

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right. 

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet. 

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates. 

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed. 

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike. 

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd. 

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere. 

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back. 

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that hat means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen. 

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence. 

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses. 

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley. 

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley. 

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand. 

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words. 

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said. 

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow. 

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly. 

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own. 

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears. 

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds. 

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks. 

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly. 

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door. 

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words. 

And Paige thinks that probably,  why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself. 

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what. 

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

[eldritch-spouse]

At first, Belo believed his Goddess was just really affectionate physically. She frequently cuddled up to him, burying her face in his chest, or absentmindedly stroking whatever area of his body wasn't covering his soft fur, sighing happily as her hand moved. However, every time she's had a friend over, they'd hug briefly, then… hang out on opposite ends of the couch. Between the short greeting hugs, there was little to no physical contact.

…Does his Goddess only enjoy touching… him?

(while not exactly touch-averse, the Goddess in question just generally prefers to have her own space and tends to show affection in different ways. excluding Belo, obviously. his fur is so SOFT and COMFORTING to touch, it feels like her heart will explode from PURE JOY)

[Adorable! I like this. Fem reader.]

He's always thought he was unworthy of such attention.

Powers like him are only meant to guard and fight for their Lords and Ladies. It's not even their job to worship, not to the extent of other casts, but Belo still likes to think he can perform decently in that field... His kind isn't meant to be showered in attention and rewards, they're taught not to expect such for simply executing their duties.

Yet, since shortly after Belo found his place at your service, you've done nothing if not treat him with endless kindless, endless love.

Part of him had wanted to caution you that touching him is beneath your status. That he didn't deserve it.

Hardly ever would those words manifest, because Belo simply couldn't stop himself from enjoying it. He'd hate himself if he said something that made you truly not touch him anymore.

He's always wondered why you did it.

There's no doubt you enjoy the feeling of his fur. He's memorized the way you like to lace your fingers on the tufts that warm his chest, the way you'll slide from the top of his wings to his arms, leaning onto him just so you can feel more of it. Belo often forgets he tends to lean during those encounters, chases after the hand that pets him, forgetting who he's meant to be and who he's in front of. There's no way to describe the way his heart hammers behind his ribcage, how his eyes will flicker everywhere and he tenses all over -Puffing out that fur you seem to love- before he's floating in his own Eden.

Do you like to touch Belo simply because he's, as you put it, "fluffy"? Do you enjoy touching him because you seek to reward him? Do you touch him because you think he should be the only one who gets to receive that privilege?

Selfishly, he silently wishes you'd touch him more. Many, unfortunately, were the times Belo would get distracted throughout the day, daydreaming of you running your hands all over him, unhindered by his outfit, feeling everything everywhere just because you could, because he's your angel and his body is also yours to keep, to order. The blood in his body would rush elsewhere and the celestial would curve to hide his own shame, even as it continued to throb and demand attention until he succumbed.

Pervertedly, Belo did such an experiment once. He dressed casually. It felt wrong, felt inappropriate to present in such a relaxed manner around the most important figure in his life... But you had expressed delight in his supposed drive to adapt a little bit more, so the guilt was ever so slightly lessened.

That day, there was hardly a limit to your boldness. He remembers you embracing him from behind, arms coming forward to squeeze at his chest and rubbing the soft clumps over his abdomen. The knee-length sports shorts he picked were pushed down slightly. Belo had done it on purpose, and it yielded results. You had, perhaps in distraction, perhaps knowingly, massaged the fur-dense spot right above his slit. The angel couldn't breathe in that moment, he feared he might even collapse if your digits wondered just a tiny bit further. He knew that he would react shamefully but the notion wasn't strong enough to make him prevent such.

He was ready to be punished, if it meant having this small guilty pleasure.

Your phone, that blasted electrical contraption that you love so dearly, rang so jarringly loud in that exact moment that Belo nearly yelped. Your hands were off his overheated body in a blink, and the interaction ceased there, with his Lady none the wiser to the state she left him in.

He could barely feel a shred of indignity for the way disappointment radiated off him in thick waves.

Belo hasn't had the courage to try that again, though it's more than safe to say the memory is engraved in the forefront of his mind.

It got him to... Think about you.

Your actions, your behavior around others.

It's not often you allow people into your sanctuary anymore. Belo insists that you shouldn't invite those beneath you into such close quarters. This ground is pure and protected for the sake of your well-being, to allow ignorant outsiders to disrespect and desecrate this location is an act of self-harm the power will simply not stand by!

Yet still, his Lady's word is final on a lot of matters. There is faith in some people, who you see as good and deserving of your holy presence. The celestial sees naught but lessers in delusion of your supposed "normalcy", but if you believe these individuals are somewhat excusable, then he'll try to see things through your eyes.

You've always tended to keep your distance from them. Not emotionally, physically. This was something Belo was initially quite relieved by, he didn't have to warn you not to put yourself in such unsightly positions. Just the thought made him itch in an unnatural way...

Now though, he wonders why, if you're aware of the distance you should keep from others, you still choose to touch him frequently? Belo is still beneath the honor of such, yet never once do you hold the hands of the people you invite, refuse their embraces, look uncomfortable at the slightest unintentional brush... In contrast, you appear to be greatly comforted by the sensation of his physique.

He freezes, mind running so wild with possibilities that the angel's fingers tremble.

You have clearly made a choice.

There's no one you'd ever like to touch, except Belo.

In your eyes, in your actions, in your mind, he's the only one worthy enough.

He's the only one who can reach your standards!

You only need contact from him.

Belo understands now.

He feels his chest tighten with delight, feels weightless for a second, the rush of euphoria clawing its way up his spine makes his wings flutter and he emits some sort of noise entirely undignified of his cast.

He remained in a state of barely concealed hysteria until you arrived home that day.

For once in his life, he commits something unthinkable.

" Welcome back, my Lady. "

He greets when you step through the door. Instead of standing by your side as he typically does, the angel crowds you, ruffled and tense. You don't get to answer before Belo summons the courage to reach out, to ghost his hands across your soft face and ever so gently, so carefully -like you'd shun him forever otherwise- embrace you in a comforting hug.

He feels as if he broke a thousand rules in one moment alone, but it was worth it.

Because he felt you smile against him.

[creatur3featur3]

ੈ��� Street Rat p4✩ੈ

word count: 8.5K (someone please kill me, my fingers are cramping)

A/N: can yall tell I love making SR and Sevika interact like an old married couple that should've gotten divorced years ago? haha, no? just me? okay-

warnings: descriptions of blood, trauma, implied self harm

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You weren’t sure why you were so desperate to find Sevika, you didn’t like her like that, you didn’t like her period, but something was tugging at you to look for her.

She had fed you, patched you up many more times than you’d like to admit, helped you at your absolute worst, you felt like you at least owed her the decency to look for her, to worry about her.

You wandered the streets of the Undercity, looking down the quieter alleyways, looking into what you thought were abandoned buildings before getting chased out by random punks.

“And stay out you little Rat!” A woman hissed as you sprinted down the street, panting heavily, not daring to look back before you ran into something, or someone.

You fall to the ground with a soft thud, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ before looking up to see Sevika watching you with keen, amused eyes.

“You just don’t know how to stay out of trouble do you?” She hummed thoughtfully, helping you up with her flesh hand.

She looked different, hair cut shorter, a piercing, and-

Tired.

“You look…” you trailed off, Sevika rolling her eyes slightly before crossing her arms, “different?” She questioned.

“…yeah,” you replied, not the words you were planning to say, but pretty much.

Pretty, that’s what you wanted to say, what sat at the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed the word, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of her mouth twitching with mild amusement. “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her voice low and gravelly. “Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere safe, minding your own business?”

You dusted yourself off, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I could say the same to you,” you muttered, refusing to admit how relieved you were to see her. “You’ve been gone for… what, weeks? No word, no nothing. People started saying you were dead.”

Sevika snorted, the sound rough and dismissive. “Dead? Do I look dead to you?” She gestured to herself with her metal arm, her new piercing catching the dim light of the Undercity streets.

“No,” you said quietly, glancing her over again. Her sharp features looked harder somehow, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to long nights and rough days. “But you do look… different.”

Sevika’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You already said that,” she pointed out dryly. She stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her broad chest. “What do you want, kid?”

You faltered, your carefully rehearsed words slipping through your fingers like sand. “I… just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were gone so long, and you’ve… helped me. A lot. I figured I owed you.”

Her expression softened for a brief moment, though she quickly masked it with a grunt. “Didn’t think anyone would notice, let alone care,” she admitted, her tone more subdued.

“Well, I did,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “So? Where the hell have you been?”

“Busy,” she replied vaguely, her gaze flickering away. “Work. Stuff like that.”

“Work?” you pressed, sensing she wasn’t giving you the full truth. “What kind of work?”

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her patience visibly fraying as you kept pushing. “Drop it,” she muttered, her voice sharp enough to cut. But you didn’t—couldn’t.  

“You always brush people off like this? Or just me?” you snapped, anger bubbling in your chest. “You disappear for weeks, come back looking like you’ve been through hell, and I’m supposed to just let it go?”  

Her glare darkened, the veins in her temple throbbing. “I said drop it!” she barked, the deep growl of her voice reverberating through the alley.  

“Why? So you can keep everything bottled up until it kills you?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, your frustration overriding your common sense. “Maybe I care, Sevika! Ever think of that?”  

Her flesh hand clenched into a fist, her whole body coiled like a spring about to snap. “Shut up,” she hissed, stepping closer.  

But you didn’t. You couldn’t stop. “You act like you don’t need anyone, like you can just handle everything alone—”  

The swing came faster than you could register. Her metal fist didn’t hit you, but her flesh hand did, hard enough to knock you off your feet.  

Your back hit the ground with a jarring thud, the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth as you felt your nose start to bleed. For a moment, the world blurred, the pounding in your head drowning out everything else.  

When your vision cleared, you looked up at her, hand pressed against your nose. Her expression wasn’t triumphant, or even angry anymore.  

It was horrified.  

She froze, her lips slightly parted as her gaze locked on yours. And there it was: fear. In your eyes, wide and scared, as if she’d morphed into a monster right in front of you.  

It was like she was seeing it for the first time, and it shattered something deep inside her.  

“I didn’t mean to…” she muttered, her voice trembling, barely audible.  

You scrambled to your feet, keeping a cautious distance, your heart hammering in your chest. “You… you fucking hit me,” you stammered, wiping at the blood trickling from your nose.  

Sevika didn’t say anything. She just stared at her hand, the one that struck you, like it belonged to someone else entirely.  

“Is this what you are now?” you asked, your voice wavering. “I come out here, looking your to make sure you're okay and not dead in a ditch- and you… ”  

Her head snapped up, the guilt etched deep into her features. “No,” she said hoarsely, taking a step back. “I… I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t—”  

“Wasn’t thinking?” you finished for her, your anger and hurt clashing violently in your chest. “Yeah, no kidding.”  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words sounding foreign and unnatural coming from her lips.  

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the tension thick and suffocating. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the look on her face silenced you.  

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you,” you muttered, stepping back further. “Clearly, I was wrong.”  

She didn’t stop you as you turned to leave, but her voice followed you, quiet and broken. “Wait.”  

You didn’t.

–

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Your balled fist hit against your head again, you knew better, knew better than to trust anyone, to rely on anyone, it was your own damn fault you were in this mess.

stupid.

Sevika had even warned you, told you to leave her alone, that you weren't going to be safe, that you were just going to get yourself hurt again.

stupid.

You staggered down the empty street, your own ragged breaths and muffled sniffles the only sounds echoing in the night. The sting of your bleeding nose was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.  

Stupid.  

Your balled fist hit the side of your head again, harder this time.  

You should’ve listened. You should’ve known better. Sevika wasn’t a safe place—she never was. She was a storm, violent and unpredictable, and you were the fool who thought you could stand in the middle of it without getting torn apart.  

Stupid.  

Another hit to your head, frustration bubbling over into self-directed rage. This was your fault. All of it. You shouldn’t have gone looking for her. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t have—  

You stopped dead in your tracks, leaning against the brick wall of an abandoned building, sliding down until you were crouched on the ground. The weight of it all crashed over you, a suffocating tidal wave of anger and shame.  

Sevika warned you. She told you to stay away, told you what would happen. And you, in your desperate, naive need to feel… what? Important? Connected? You ignored her.  

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as tears pricked at your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. You didn’t deserve to cry.  

You tilted your head back, staring up at the polluted sky of the Undercity, the faint glow of lights barely breaking through the haze.  

“Stupid,” you muttered again, voice cracking. You wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing tight, as if trying to hold all your broken pieces together.  

This was your mess. Your pain. And you’d deal with it, like you always did. Alone. 

That’s what you always did.  

Life slipped back into the routine of survival, the kind of existence that didn’t leave room for anything soft or sentimental. The bruises on your face faded, but the ache beneath them stayed, buried deep where no one could see.  

You spent your nights fighting in the back alleys for scraps of money, fists flying as blood and sweat mixed with the grime of the Undercity streets. The thrill of it was a distraction, a way to quiet the noise in your head. And when that wasn’t enough, you stole—food, trinkets, anything you could get your hands on.  

The people you stole from didn’t matter. Maybe they deserved it; maybe they didn’t. It didn’t make a difference to you. That’s how it was down here—everyone clawing to take what little they could, stepping on anyone who got in their way.  

You were no different.  

A street rat. That’s all you were, all you ever would be. Not someone’s child, not someone’s friend, not someone’s anything. Rats didn’t belong to anyone—they scurried, they scavenged, and they survived.  

And that was enough, wasn’t it?  

The thought lingered as you huddled in the corner of a dimly lit alley, clutching a half-eaten loaf of bread you’d swiped earlier. The warmth of it had long since faded, just like everything else.  

It was enough. It had to be. Because hope was a luxury for people who didn’t live with dirt under their nails and blood on their hands.  

And you didn’t have the luxury of being anything but a rat.

You watched as a group of younger kids giggled and laughed, their voices echoing faintly down the alley as they ran past you. They clutched makeshift toys in their small hands—scraps of wood tied together, a dented tin can, things they’d probably cobbled together themselves.  

You frowned, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sat against the cold, damp wall. They were so loud, so carefree, their laughter grating against the silence you’d grown used to. You should’ve hated them for it, envied the spark of innocence they still had in this pit of a place. But all you felt was an ache.  

This wasn’t the world kids like them should be growing up in. They deserved warm homes, full bellies, and safety—not these streets that swallowed people whole. Not this cold, dangerous place where every smile felt borrowed, fleeting.  

But that wasn’t the world they got.  

Just like it hadn’t been the world you’d gotten.  

You shifted, looking down at your battered boots. They weren’t much better off than those kids, you realized. Maybe younger, but not safer. Not really. They didn’t know yet what these streets could do to them, how they could chew them up and spit them out.  

And a bitter part of you thought maybe it was better they didn’t.  

You sighed, rubbing at your arms to keep the cold from seeping in too much. Those kids weren’t your problem. You didn’t have the energy to care about anyone else. Not anymore.  

But as one of the kids tripped and fell, scraping their knee, you found yourself moving before you could think.  

You stood, walking toward them slowly. The little boy sat there sniffling, trying to hold back tears as the others circled him, unsure of what to do.  

“You good, kid?” you asked, your voice low and gruff, startling them.  

The boy looked up at you, wide-eyed, his lip trembling. “I-I’m fine,” he mumbled, clearly lying.  

You crouched down in front of him, your gaze softening despite yourself. “Lemme see.”  

He hesitated, then reluctantly showed you his scraped knee, blood trickling down his skinny leg. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was enough to sting.  

“Hang tight,” you said, pulling a strip of cloth from your pocket. You wrapped it around his knee with surprising gentleness, tying it off. “There. Good as new.”  

The boy blinked up at you, his tears slowing as he gave a small, hesitant smile. “Thanks…”  

You stood up, brushing your hands off on your pants. “Don’t mention it.”  

As you walked away, you could hear them whispering behind you, their voices filled with wonder.  

“Who was that?”  

“Dunno, but they’re cool!”  

You shook your head, shoving your hands deep into your pockets as you disappeared down another alley.  

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath again, the word sticking to your tongue like tar. You weren’t supposed to care.  

But you did.

You found yourself helping out the smaller people, not necessarily kids or older people but people who were like you, desperate, barely scraping by..

It started small—handing off scraps of food you didn’t need, pointing someone toward a safer place to sleep, helping a desperate soul avoid a fight they couldn’t win. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you weren’t trying to be anything to anyone. But somewhere along the way, people started noticing.  

Not the big players in the Undercity, of course. They didn’t care about people like you, scraping by on crumbs. But the smaller people—the desperate ones, the ones who lived and died in the shadows—they noticed.  

And then came the kids.  

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, there was always a small cluster of them following you around. Wide-eyed and full of questions, they trailed behind like ducklings, giggling and whispering to each other.  

“Is it true you beat up three guys at once last week?” one of them asked, his eyes shining with admiration.  

“No, it was five,” another kid chimed in, puffing up his chest like he’d seen you do once. “I heard they were twice as big as you, too!”  

You snorted, shaking your head as you walked. “It was one guy, and he was drunk off his ass. Hardly a fair fight.”  

But they didn’t care about the truth. To them, you were a legend—someone who fought back against the unfairness of the Undercity and lived to tell the tale.  

“What’s it like being the coolest person in the Undercity?” one of the youngest kids asked, skipping alongside you with a toothy grin.  

“Dunno,” you replied with a smirk, ruffling his messy hair. “You tell me when you meet them.”  

That earned a chorus of laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold and the hunger and the weight that constantly pressed on your shoulders. For a moment, it felt… good.  

But then the reality of it all crept back in. You weren’t a hero. You weren’t even a good person. You were just a rat, doing what rats did best: surviving.  

Still, when one of the kids tugged on your sleeve and asked if you’d show them how to throw a proper punch, you sighed and crouched down, holding out your hands to demonstrate.  

“Alright, listen up,” you said, your tone gruff but not unkind. “If you’re gonna do it, do it right. Thumb outside the fist, or you’ll break it on the first swing.”  

The kids watched you with rapt attention, mimicking your movements, their laughter filling the air.  

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you were just killing time.  

But deep down, you knew better.

“Do you know Sevika?” one little girl asked, her eyes shining bright with curiosity.

The question hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you froze. The little girl stared up at you with wide, curious eyes, her excitement barely contained.  

“Sevika?” you repeated, forcing your voice to stay steady as your stomach twisted itself into knots. “What makes you ask that?”  

The girl shrugged, clutching a worn doll tightly to her chest. “Some people said you’re like her. Tough and strong. That you help people like she used to.”  

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know about that,” you muttered, looking away.  

You wanted to lie, to say you didn’t know who Sevika was, to brush it off like it meant nothing. But you couldn’t. Her name alone brought everything rushing back—the nights you spent following her, trying to understand why you cared so much, why she mattered to you.  

And how it all came crashing down the moment she showed you exactly who she was.  

“Did she help you too?” the girl asked innocently, her voice tugging at something raw and vulnerable inside you.  

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching at your sides. “Not in the way you think,” you said quietly.  

The kids around you fell silent, sensing the shift in your mood. Even the little girl seemed to understand she’d touched on something she shouldn’t have.  

“Forget about Sevika,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “She’s not someone you want to be like.”  

The girl frowned, her grip on her doll tightening. “But I thought she was a hero.”  

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “She’s no hero. And neither am I.”  

The words tasted sour on your tongue, and you hated how much truth they held. You turned away, pretending to adjust the wrappings on your hands, anything to avoid their questioning eyes.  

“Let’s get moving,” you said gruffly, motioning for them to follow. “It’s not safe to stand around here.”  

As the kids fell into step behind you, their chatter picking up again, you tried to push the thoughts of Sevika out of your head. But her name lingered like a ghost, haunting you with every step you took.

— 

You hated it. The way your chest only loosened when you saw those kids step inside their makeshift homes, doors closing behind them, locking out the dangers of the Undercity—for now.  

You hated the way your ears strained for any sign of trouble, ready to step in, ready to fight, even when you told yourself you wouldn’t.  

You weren’t a hero. You weren’t a savior. Hell, if that little girl had asked about Sevika again, you might’ve snapped at her, might’ve said something cruel enough to shut her up for good.  

Not that you actually would’ve hurt her. You weren’t that far gone—yet.  

But it made you sick, the thought of anyone seeing you as something good. Someone to look up to. You were no one’s safety, no one’s home, no one’s hero. You were just—you.  

A street rat. A survivor.  

And survivors didn’t make promises. They didn’t stick around.  

Still, as you stood alone in the dim light of the alley, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Just to be sure.

“I never thought I’d see you go soft,” a voice piped up, making you turn around, body tensing almost immediately as you looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.

That’s when you saw her again-

Sevika.

The woman who had taken you in more or less, taken care of you, made sure you knew when and where not to go.

Just for her to rip it all away in one night. 

Your breath caught in your throat, muscles coiling tight as your eyes locked onto her.  

Sevika.  

She leaned casually against the brick wall, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. Her short hair framed her sharp features, and that same unreadable expression lingered on her face—the one that always made it impossible to tell if she was amused or annoyed.  

She looked exactly like you remembered. And yet, somehow, worse. Tired. Hardened. But no less dangerous.  

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse hammered in your ears. “What the hell do you want?”  

Her lips twitched, just barely hinting at a smirk. “Relax. I’m not here to pick a fight.”  

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest as if that would somehow shield you from the weight of her presence. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

Sevika pushed off the wall, taking a slow step closer. It wasn’t a threat, not exactly—but it didn’t feel safe either. “I was just passing through,” she said, her voice low, gravelly. “Didn’t expect to find you playing babysitter.”  

Your jaw tightened. “I’m not playing anything.”  

“No?” Her gaze flicked toward the alley where the kids had disappeared, then back to you. “Sure looks like it.”  

Your fingers twitched, itching for a weapon—something to hold between you and her. Not because you thought she’d attack. But because you didn’t trust yourself not to let her get under your skin. Not again.  

“Why are you here, Sevika?” you asked, cutting through the tension with as much venom as you could muster. “Last I checked, you were done with me.”  

Her expression shifted, something almost like regret flashing in her eyes before it was gone, buried under that cold exterior. “You wouldn’t let it go,” she said quietly. “I told you to stay away. Told you it’d get you hurt.”  

You took a step forward, the anger that had been simmering for months finally bubbling over. “And you think this is better?” you snapped, gesturing at the empty alley, at the scraps of a life you’d been barely holding together. “You think walking away without a word—without even explaining—was better?”  

Sevika didn’t flinch, but her jaw set tightly. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”  

“Bullshit.”  

Your voice echoed off the walls, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, staring each other down like opponents waiting for the first punch to land.  

But it never did.  

Instead, Sevika let out a breath, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “You never did.”  

And maybe you didn’t. Maybe you never would.  

But as much as you hated her—hated what she’d done, how she’d left—you hated the way her words still made your heart ache even more. 

“No,” you snapped, making Sevika's eyes narrow slightly.

“You don’t get it, do you know how much I’ve been risking nowadays? Giving away my hard earned food, taking care of kids that aren’t mine, teaching them how to protect themselves, using my supplies to cover up scrapes and cuts. I have these horrible fucking dreams Sevika, horrible horrible dreams, every time a lay down my head to rest or even just to let it relax all I can fucking hear is screaming. My sisters crying while they burned alive, my mother calling out to me like she knew what was happening. Do you ever hear that? Do you have to deal with that day in and day out?”

Sevika was tense, not meeting your eyes as you continued on.

“Do you ever hear them?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words poured out, raw and unfiltered, the dam you’d built up for so long finally breaking. “Do you have to deal with that day in and day out, Sevika? Because I do. Every fucking day.”

Sevika stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. Her jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch, but she didn’t interrupt. She just stood there, her shoulders stiff, her hands twitching at her sides.

“I try to forget,” you continued, your voice rising with every word. “I try to drown it out with fights, with work, with anything. But it never goes away. And then you come along, acting like you’re doing me a favor by walking away? Like leaving me behind was some kind of mercy?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing hollowly in the empty alley. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to act like you know what’s best for me.”

Sevika’s head snapped up at that, her eyes sharp and stormy as they locked onto yours. “And you think you’re better off with me?” she growled, the edge in her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “You think sticking around me would’ve made your life easier? Safer?”

“I don’t know, Sevika!” you shot back, your fists clenching. “But you don’t get to rip everything away without even giving me a choice! You don’t get to decide I’m not worth the risk!”

The words hung heavy in the air, both of you breathing hard, the weight of the conversation pressing down like a storm ready to break.

Sevika looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something crack in her cold, impenetrable armor. Something vulnerable, something almost human.

“You don’t understand,” she said finally, her voice quieter, almost hoarse. “It’s not about you not being worth it. It’s about me… not being enough.”

Her words stunned you, the anger in your chest wavering for just a moment.

“You think I don’t care?” she continued, her gaze hard but her voice trembling just slightly. “You think I don’t hear the screams, too? That I don’t see the faces of the people I couldn’t save, the ones I left behind? I walk through hell every day, just like you. The difference is, I made my peace with it a long time ago. I don’t deserve peace. I don’t deserve…”

Her voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t know whether to scream at her or cry. Instead, you took a step closer, your voice softer but no less determined.

“And you think I don’t feel the same?” you asked, your tone low and raw. “You think I don’t carry that same weight? That same guilt? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Sevika. You don’t get to decide for me.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika didn’t have a response. She just stood there, staring at you with something unreadable in her eyes, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Sevika let out a long, shaky breath.

“You’re a stubborn little shit,” she muttered, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steadier now. “And you’re a coward.”

Her smirk faltered, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she took a step back, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned away.

“Get some rest,” she said over her shoulder, her voice gruff but softer than before. “You’re no good to anyone running on empty.”

But the weight of her presence lingered, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in your armor weren’t just breaking you apart—they were letting something in.

You hated that you wanted to call out to hear, to tell her to wait, to ask her to stay with you- you shouldn't.

“Sevika?” Your voice was soft, unsure, but Sevika looked back at you, raising an eyebrow in response.

You should've said never mind, or Don't get hurt without me, but against your better judgement–

“Do you–” god this was pathetic, “have anything to do tonight..?” 

Sevika stopped mid-step, her broad frame outlined by the dim glow of the streetlamp. She turned her head slightly, her eyebrow still raised, but her expression unreadable.

You wanted to shrink back, to swallow the words, to act like you hadn’t said anything. But it was too late. They hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, impossible to take back.

“Do I have anything to do tonight?” she repeated, her voice low and measured, as if trying to make sense of your question.

You shifted on your feet, suddenly regretting every choice that had led you to this moment. “Forget it,” you muttered, looking down at the cracked pavement. “It’s stupid.”

Sevika didn’t move for a moment, her silence stretching out uncomfortably. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned fully to face you, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t have time for games, kid,” she said, her tone sharper now. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

You bit your lip, weighing your options. You could shut up, let her walk away, and go back to your miserable little routine. Or you could take the risk—the one that had been gnawing at you since the moment you saw her again.

“Do you… want to get a drink?” you finally blurted out, your voice cracking slightly at the end. “Or—something. I don’t know. Just… talk?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and for a second, you thought she might laugh in your face. But instead, she studied you, her gaze sharp and calculating, as though she were trying to decide if this was some kind of trap.

“You want to talk,” she said slowly, her voice laced with disbelief.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I mean… we never did, right? Not really.”

Sevika tilted her head, her metal fingers drumming against her arm as she considered you. Finally, she let out a low chuckle—more of a breath than a laugh—and shook her head.

“You’re full of surprises,” she muttered.

“So… is that a yes?” you pressed, trying not to sound too hopeful.

She hesitated, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, she nodded toward a dimly lit bar at the end of the street.

“Fine,” she said gruffly. “One drink. Don’t make me regret it.”

You felt your chest loosen, the tension easing just slightly as you nodded and fell into step beside her.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

—

You weren’t sure why you found yourself sitting down at a bar with Sevika, trying to avoid talking to her by slowly drinking your vodka, the liquid burning your throat as you swallowed.

You let out a soft groan, nose scrunching at the burning sensation that you couldn’t get rid of as quickly as you’d hope. 

“So,” Sevika hummed, setting down her cup as she cleared her throat, the rough sound catching your attention mid-swallow. “You never really talk about yourself, well you do, a lot actually—“ she corrects herself, making you chuckle softly as you set your own cup down.

“I mean more so where you came from,” Sevika muttered, resting her flesh forearm on the counter, “you don’t scream ‘Hey I was born in the Undercity’ like most of us.”

You paused, staring into the bottom of your glass before swirling what little liquid was left inside. Sevika’s words echoed in your head, her observation cutting deeper than you cared to admit.

“Does it matter?” you finally muttered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Sevika leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the bar as her eyes stayed locked on you. “If it didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked,” she replied.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or suspicious.”

She smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Maybe both.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get out of this without saying something real—something you hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time.

“I wasn’t born here,” you admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool. “Not in the Undercity, at least.”

Sevika didn’t say anything, but the flicker of curiosity in her eyes told you she was listening.

“My family… we lived closer to the surface. Not Piltover exactly, but better off than here.” You paused, fingers tightening around the glass. “It didn’t last.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t interrupt.

“My father—he gambled. Drank. Made enemies.” You swallowed, the memories stirring like dust in your chest. “And when the debts piled too high, when they finally came to collect, we lost everything.”

You shook your head, forcing down the lump rising in your throat.

“Did you hear about the fire around 19 years ago? Whole neighborhood burnt down, barely any survivors,” you hummed gently, not daring to meet her eyes, Sevika humming softly in response.

Sevika’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing slightly. She knew the story, or at least pieces of it. Everyone in the Undercity had heard rumors about the fire. But hearing you say it—connecting yourself to that tragedy—shifted something in the air between you.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice gruffer than usual. “I heard.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you pushed past the lump in your throat. “That was my neighborhood. My family.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you, unblinking and sharp, but she didn’t press. She let the weight of your words settle.

“There was nothing left,” you continued, your voice hollow. “The ones who survived… we scattered. Some made it out of the Undercity entirely. Some didn’t.”

Sevika didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the flicker in her eyes betrayed her thoughts. She understood loss. Maybe too well.

“I came here because it was the only place left,” you said, swirling the last drops of your drink. “I thought maybe I could disappear. Start over. But you don’t really get to do that, do you?”

Sevika finally broke her silence, her voice low and steady. “No. You don’t.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar around you fading into the background.

“So that’s it?” Sevika asked after a beat. “You’ve been running ever since?”

You shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “What else is there to do?”

Sevika leaned back, her metal arm resting against the counter with a faint clink. “You fight,” she said simply.

You snorted. “Fight for what? This place?”

“For yourself,” Sevika replied, her gaze steady. “For the people who can’t.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the conviction in her voice. It was different from the Sevika you thought you knew—the woman who pushed people away, who acted like she didn’t care.

“Don’t act like you’re not already doing it,” she added, nodding toward the alley you’d been watching earlier. “Those kids? They’re looking at you like you’re their savior, whether you like it or not.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away. “I’m not anyone’s savior,” you grumbled, swirling your glass again.

“That’s what I thought too, for a long time,” Sevika replied, her eyes softening, her words seeming to bring back memories or talks she had. “I was raised to be tough, never be soft, don’t let anyone take advantage of you,” she muttered, “I guess it worked per say, I’m feared, respected, all things you want to be in a place like this.”

You watch as her shoulders sag slightly, exhaling heavily as her eyes closed for a moment, “but I lose people, people who didn’t deserve to be in a place like this, people who made mistakes but I was lucky enough to see what was behind the masks they wore.”

Sevika’s words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like a wound laid bare. You’d never heard her talk like this—never seen her drop the armor she always carried. And yet, here she was, letting you glimpse something deeper. Something real.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing harder to ignore. “And did it help?” you asked quietly. “Being tough? Pushing people away?”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp but not unkind. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But mostly? It just made it easier to pretend I didn’t care when I did.”

The confession struck a nerve, and you felt your walls starting to crack. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that caring was weakness—that survival meant keeping your distance. But was it really any better than being alone?

“So what changed?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “I lost too much,” she said simply. “Kept telling myself it wasn’t my fault, that this place—this life—wasn’t meant for happy endings.”

She paused, her gaze flickering toward you. “But then you showed up.”

Your breath caught. “Me?”

“You’re stubborn. Reckless. You don’t know when to back down, even when you should,” Sevika said, her lips curving into something that almost resembled a smile. “And you remind me of someone I used to be.”

You blinked, unsure whether to take her words as a compliment or a warning. Maybe both.

“Is that a good thing..?” You ask, your head tilting with the question.

Sevika smiled, not a big one or for long, but it was a genuine smile, with the way that the corners of her eyes crinkled and how her slightly chapped lips seemed to stretch with the act— your heart buzzing slightly at the sight.

“Depends on who you ask I guess, if you ask me, it’s the worst possible thing to happen to me, I’ve got a street Rat stuck on me like it’s caught in a trap, and yet you keep trying to get that cheese that you think is there.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, soft but real, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Well, maybe the cheese is worth it,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smile fading but her amusement lingering in her eyes. “You think so? Even knowing the trap could snap any second?”

You shrugged, leaning back on your stool. “Life’s full of traps. If you’re too scared to take a chance, you’ll never get anywhere.”

Her expression shifted, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than felt comfortable. It wasn’t judgmental or cold—it was something closer to respect, though Sevika would probably never admit it outright.

“Brave or stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Probably both,” you admitted with a grin, raising your glass to finish the last drop of vodka.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the bar wrapping around you like a threadbare blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel… not alone.

“As much as a pain in the ass you tend to be,” Sevika sighed, “I have to admit you seem to at least have a brain in your skull,” smirking softly as you roll your eyes.

You lift your glass to your lips, swallowing down the rest of the vodka, trying your best not to let it show that you hated the sting of it falling down your throat. As you exhale, setting your empty glass down on the counter you glance at Sevika, taking in how much more relaxed she looks. Her shoulders don’t sit as squared as they used to, her sharp and cold eyes seem to have melted a bit.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger, studying the woman beside you. This was Sevika, the same woman who had pushed you away without a second thought, who had built walls so high even you couldn’t see over them. And yet here she was—softened, even if just slightly, by the fragile truce between you.

“You know,” you started, your voice light but tinged with sincerity, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Like what?”

“Relaxed. Human,” you said, leaning your elbow on the bar as you turned to face her more fully.

She let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it, kid. This place has a way of reminding you why you can’t stay soft for long.”

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone thoughtful. “But isn’t it exhausting? Always keeping people at arm’s length?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away, her gaze shifting to her metal arm as she flexed the fingers absently. “It is,” she admitted quietly. “But it’s safer that way.”

“For who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and guarded, but you held her gaze. For a moment, you thought she might shut you down, might throw up the same walls she always did. But instead, she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“For everyone,” she said.

“That's a load of bull,” you scoff, Sevika sighed begrudgingly as she shook her head. “Look, Sevika, I get it, you're a big and tough woman, you've gotta keep that exterior appearance sharp and clean–” you sigh, “but at least try and relax and be genuine with me? Come on, I was nice to you before you even had a chance. I'm ruining my reputation here,” you whine half heartedly.

Sevika let out a dry laugh, her lips quirking up at the corners. “Ruining your reputation? You think anyone’s impressed by you drinking cheap vodka and pouting at me?”

“Hey, I’m plenty impressive,” you shot back, leaning back on your stool with an exaggerated smirk. “I’ve got street kids worshiping me, remember? They think I’m a legend.”

Sevika arched an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Yeah, a legend at whining, apparently.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “You’re deflecting,” you accused, pointing at her.

“And you’re annoying,” she countered, but there was no real heat in her words.

“Annoying enough to get under your skin, though,” you teased, taking another sip of your drink. “Which means I’m doing something right.”

Sevika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, but you caught the way her shoulders relaxed just a little more. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I think there’s something worth fighting for,” you said, your tone softening just slightly.

Her eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But instead, she sighed again, shaking her head. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, raising your glass in a mock toast. “But I grow on people.”

Sevika snorted, shaking her head but not denying it. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, though the playful glint in your eyes said otherwise.

The conversation lulled for a moment, the two of you settling into a companionable silence. The hum of the bar faded into the background, and you found yourself watching Sevika as she absentmindedly traced the edge of her glass with her metal fingers.

“Look,” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now, “I’m not asking for a miracle or anything. I just… I think we’ve both had enough pretending for one night.”

Sevika’s fingers stilled, her gaze lifting to meet yours. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, maybe. Or vulnerability.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “Sure.”

You smiled, the corners of your mouth twitching upward in a way that felt almost foreign. “See? I knew I’d get you to admit I was right eventually.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika muttered, but there was a softness to her tone that took the edge off her words.

“I would never,” you said again, but this time, your voice was sincere.

As you giggled at Sevika’s hesitance to let up on you, a hand naturally lifting to cover your smile as you tried to stop your little giggle fit.

Sevika’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than she intended. The sound of your laughter—so genuine, so unguarded—echoed in her chest, stirring something she didn’t want to name.

She told herself it was just the vodka, the dim light of the bar, the way you always seemed to pull her into these situations without her realizing. But as her gaze traced the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, and the faint flush creeping up your cheeks, Sevika felt her resolve waver.

No.

She wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

But gods, did she want to.

She wanted to memorize the way your laughter filled the air, to see that smile again and again, to be the reason for it. It was ridiculous—dangerous, even—but for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine it. Imagine what it would feel like to have you by her side, not as an annoyance or a distraction, but as something more.

The thought alone made her tense, her metal fingers curling into a fist on the counter.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Sevika muttered, her voice gruff as she leaned back in her seat, trying to mask the swirl of emotions tightening in her chest.

You paused mid-giggle, your hand dropping as you glanced at her. “Is that a compliment?” you teased, tilting your head with a playful grin.

“Don’t push it,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Still, you couldn’t miss the way her gaze softened, just for a second, before she looked away.

“Sevika…” you started, leaning slightly closer.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm.

You froze, confusion flickering across your face. “Don’t what?”

Sevika sighed, running a hand through her short hair. “Don’t make me care more than I already do.”

The words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What if I want you to?” you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Sevika’s jaw clenched, her eyes darting to yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

“It’s not that simple,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine, have it your way.” you hum unapologetically, reaching over and stealing her glass and swallowing down what was left of her own vodka.

—

Sevika had made sure to get you back to your little hideout in one piece, given you weren't the greatest with alcohol given how your pace stuttered or you came to a complete stop to balance yourself.

She helped you climb up the fire escape to your little cave,steading you with a firm hand on your back as you stumbled up the fire escape, her metal arm clinking softly against the rungs. You muttered something incoherent about being "perfectly fine" and "used to this," but she ignored you, her lips quirking in quiet amusement.

When you finally reached the top, you gestured grandly to your “hideout,” as if it was a palace. The reality was far less impressive.

The small space was wedged between two buildings, half-covered by a rusted piece of metal acting as a makeshift roof. A few blankets and pillows were scattered on the floor, a small stash of food tucked into a corner along with a battered lantern. It was functional, but it wasn’t much.

Sevika’s eyes scanned the area, her expression unreadable. “This is where you’ve been living?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You huffed, brushing past her as you tried to reclaim some dignity. “It’s one of my spots,” you said defensively, waving a hand. “You know, in case things go south.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she crossed her arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Doesn’t look too secure.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, your cheeks flushing. “It’s fine. I’ve been here for years, and I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms, mirroring her stance. “What? You gonna start critiquing my home decor now?”

A smirk tugged at her lips, but she held her tongue, sensing that any more teasing would push you into a full-blown tantrum. “No,” she said simply. “It’s… cozy.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the lack of sarcasm. “Cozy?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It works. That’s what matters, right?”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure if she was mocking you or being genuine. But the softness in her eyes—subtle as it was—told you she wasn’t making fun of you.

“Well, uh… thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you avoided her gaze.

Sevika pushed off the wall, her smirk returning. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t expect me to climb that fire escape again anytime soon.”

You snorted, feeling some of your embarrassment ebb away. “Noted.”

She started to turn toward the exit, but then hesitated, glancing back at you. “You good here?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, nodding. “I’m good.”

Sevika nodded, her expression softening for just a moment before she made her way back down the fire escape.

You watched her go, your heart still racing from the night’s events. As you turned back to your little hideout, you let out a breath, trying to shake off the lingering warmth her presence had left behind.

“Cozy,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes. But despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips.

Okay maybe it was immature for you to have a crush on a woman twice your age, who had no interest in you whatsoever, and who would've probably ripped you limb to limb by now ...if she hadn’t inexplicably decided to tolerate your existence. Maybe even like it, though you weren’t going to push your luck assuming that. Still, it was hard to ignore the way Sevika seemed to linger around you lately, as if she was trying to figure out what made you tick—or why you hadn’t annoyed her enough to leave yet.

It wasn’t like you had any grand delusions about her feelings. Sevika wasn’t exactly the soft, romantic type. She was gruff, distant, and intimidating as hell—everything you definitely shouldn’t be drawn to.

But there was something about the way she looked at you sometimes. Like you were more than just another street rat scraping by. Like maybe, just maybe, you mattered.

Of course, that was probably just your overactive imagination. She was twice your age, far more experienced in life—and in surviving this hellhole. You were nothing more than an amusing distraction at best.

Still, it didn’t stop your heart from doing that stupid fluttery thing whenever she leaned in just a little too close. Or the way your stomach flipped when she smirked at you, that rare and fleeting expression that made you feel like you’d done something right for once.

You groaned, flopping down onto your makeshift bed with a dramatic sigh. “Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “She’s way out of your league. Not to mention, probably plotting how to make you useful—or at least tolerable.”

But even as you said it, your thoughts drifted back to the way her voice softened when she talked about losing people. The way her gaze lingered on you a second too long when she thought you weren’t looking.

It was stupid. Childish. Dangerous.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the thought.

Because no matter how many times you told yourself to let it go, there was still a small, stubborn part of you that wondered what it would be like if she did care. Even just a little.

[tldrthor]

five more minutes | steve rogers

Summary: Steve marvels at his sleepy girl // established relationship fluff, fem!reader, no use of (y/n) // word count: 1k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

Steve Rogers had never been a man who slept easily. It hadn’t been that way since he was a baby, keeping his poor mother awake through all hours of the night. As he grew, sleep never came easily — too many battles, too many scars, and the weight of the world on his shoulders from the moment he learned that to exist was to fight.

These days, the losses of everyone and everything pressed on him like a boulder, something he could never outrun. No, to sleep was to confront — and Steve had done enough confronting for a lifetime.

Most of his fellow Avengers knew the sting of restless nights. They understood that sleep, with its blank slate, was a risky thing — a place where the cruelest parts of their minds could take hold. Steve’s dreams were never kind. He often dreamed of Bucky falling from the train, of his mother lying on her deathbed, or of you — you, lying in a pool of crimson blood.

He flinched as that particular memory resurfaced. The day he thought he’d lose you. His eyes flicked to your sleeping form, cocooned in the duvet like a hibernating creature. Sometimes, he wondered if this was all real or if it was just a dream — a dream he was overdue to wake from.

You were so serene, so untouched by the world’s cruelty. It struck him again, how remarkable it was that after all you’d been through, sleep was still a sanctuary for you. He felt a pang of envy. You were able to rest in ways he couldn’t. Your face was peaceful, your breath slow and steady, while his thoughts raced like an out-of-control train.

Watching you fall asleep each night was like witnessing a miracle. You had this routine, a rhythm he had come to cherish. It was small, simple things — filling your water bottle, turning off the lights, and whispering “I love you, sleep well” before you sank into the comforting embrace of the night.

You had once asked him, “Does it bother you that I sleep so much when you don’t? Do you wish I joined you in the early hours of the morning?”

Even now, that question made him smile. He remembered you, stumbling out of bed hours after him, his oversized pajamas swallowing you whole. It made his chest swell with pride — this little thing with messy hair and a habit of stealing his clothes was his. He got to be there with you, cradling you while you slept, listening to your soft snores.

He could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your sleepy face, rubbing the exhaustion from your barely open eyes. He’d kissed the top of your messy hair, holding you close as he whispered, “I love you as you are, my sleepy girl.”

He was the luckiest man alive, and he knew it.

But sometimes, when the sun was just starting to rise, and he had to wake you up, that luck felt like a curse. He couldn’t help it. You were so peaceful, so content in your little cocoon of warmth and softness. The moment he dared disturb that tranquility, you became a beast to tame — his beast, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, kneeling beside the bed. His fingers gently stroked your hair, watching you stir. “It’s time to wake up. We’ve got training in an hour.”

A soft, incoherent noise escaped you as you buried your face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes…”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Same script, same lines. “Angel,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already had five more minutes than I should’ve given you.”

You leaned into his touch but didn’t open your eyes.

“I don’t want to go,” you groaned, wrapping yourself tighter in the duvet.

He sighed but grinned, moving to open the blinds. Sunlight poured into the room, bathing the bed in a warm, golden glow. You, of course, immediately buried your face deeper into the covers, a little mound of resistance.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, gently pulling the duvet away from your eyes. “Come on, sweet girl. You know you have to get up.”

And then — the bargain. He saw it coming a mile away, heard the seductive lull of your voice as it lured him in.

“Come back to bed,” you coaxed, your voice thick with sleep. “We can cuddle.”

Damn you.

“Can’t, baby. You know how much I’d love to,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice strong as he planted soft kisses on your forehead, your temple, your cheek. “Come on, time to get up.”

A dramatic sigh came from beneath the covers. “You’re so mean.”

Ah, the anger phase. His least favourite.

“I know, sleepy girl,” he replied in a mock-somber tone, unable to resist the playful tease. “Open those pretty eyes for me. Let me see them.”

One eye cracked open, barely a slit. Success. “There she is.”

Before he could celebrate, that eye shut again. Of course. He checked the time—training was fast approaching, and he had promised you he’d give you enough time to get ready. But what could he do? The sleepy beauty before him was winning the fight — again.

He checked his phone, his impulsive fingers moving quicker than his rational, captain brain could stop them -- a quick text to Sam and an instant response:

Can you cover training this morning?

Sure thing. I’ll put them through their paces ;)

With a satisfied smile, Steve kicked off his boots and climbed over you, slipping back under the covers. You stirred slightly, one eye cracking open to assess the disruption.

“What doing?” you mumbled groggily.

“Shh, my sleepy girl,” he whispered, fitting himself into your warm space. You immediately relaxed, a grin spreading across your face at your unexpected victory. He pressed a kiss to your neck, pulling you closer. “Just five more minutes.”

This fic came to me suddenly even though it wasn't on my radar at all! Hope you all enjoy. Reminder you can join my taglist via the google form here <3

Masterlist

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 10

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + EDGING? + ROPE (VINE) PLAY + SLIGHT DEGRADATION? VERY MINIMAL

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It took you a few days to realise it, but when you finally did it hit you right in the chest. You are restless without Rio. Agatha has been there for you, holding you, coaxing you through your desires, teaching you lesson after lesson, but something is missing. And after the third night of terrible sleep, you realise you miss Rio.

“When will she be back?” you ask Agatha for the fifth time in the last two days, pouting when she sighs dismissively, “Agatha,” you whine out her name, drawing the syllables out, “When?”

The blue-eyed witch turns to you with a frown, revealing the heavy bags under her eyes that match your own. “Her job is complicated, sweetheart. We can never be sure how long she is needed for. You must be patient, and understand–”

You groan audibly and shut your eyes tight, interrupting Agatha. “Maybe I would understand if you would just tell me what it is she–”

“Did you just interrupt me?” Agatha scolds, her eyes squinting in warning. But you’ve received plenty warning from her about this, far too many for her to simply let it go.

“I’m sorry,” you start, attempting to plead your case, but Agatha cuts you off with a snarl and a typically gentle hand to your throat. It’s rough, the touch shocking you as she shoves you against the bedroom door. You’ve been spending the nights in their bedroom with Agatha, and think perhaps Rio’s lingering scent has made you miss her even more. You can even smell her on Agatha when you bury your face in her neck before going to bed.

“Sorry?” Agatha mocks, scoffing as she pushes her body flush against yours, her fingers tightening their hold on the sides of your neck. You whimper in submission, trying to tilt your head back but she keeps you still, her intense gaze still locked to your sorry eyes.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologise again, Agatha’s lips are roughly pressed to yours. Her invading tongue pushes through right away, establishing her dominance as you whimper into her touch, melting as she slides her tongue against yours, claiming you over and over again. But before you can start roaming your hands over her body, she abruptly pulls back leaving you hazed and confused.

“What?” you mumble, blinking your eyes open with a frown.

Agatha’s expression is one of controlled anger with the tiniest hint of satisfaction as she glances over your blushed cheeks, pouty lips, beaked buds through your thin gown.

“Why did you stop?” you moan in complaint, reaching out to grab at her but Agatha takes a step away from you in defiance; your frown deepens as you pout, begging for her to touch you.

The wicked witch smirks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” Agatha says simply, walking away before you can protest. You’re left with your mouth hung open, equally shocked and turned on. Is this your punishment? Because you would much rather be spanked than have your desires ignored.

“Wait, please–”

Agatha cackles as she continues walking to the little washroom attached to the bedroom. “Begging will not work, sweetheart. You need to learn your lesson. Now, go tend to the garden, and wash yourself up afterwards. We’ll be headed to the Inn this evening.”

The Inn. Your Inn. With Catherine, the innkeeper’s daughter who very clearly provoked a certain type of reaction from Agatha and Rio the last time you were seen with her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you ask timidly, turning your head away from Agatha’s intense glare as she spins back. You take that as your answer and nod, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud.

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it wasn’t your best decision, but since Agatha refuses to touch you the best you could think of was making that task as hard as possible for her. Perhaps she’ll break, or it’ll only anger her further. You’ve come to learn that an angry Agatha is either the best or worse outcome; it’s the worst when the anger turns into yelling, tears, and a deeply painful feeling in your chest, but it’s the best when it turns into smirks, rough hands and angry kisses all over your skin.

Picking out the best dress possible was easy enough since you only have a few anyway. The cut of the top half is enticing enough without the undergarments you opted for, the special kind that pushes your breasts up as high as possible. Your corset is dark, black, intricately laced and worn over your dress as a statement; that statement is clear enough to Agatha it seems, her eyes darkening the moment you step out of your bedroom to show her just how ready you are to go.

“Is it time already?” you ask innocently, your tone teasing and playful. The smile you flash at her is knowing as she cannot keep her eyes away from your chest. She’ll look up at you trying to hold your gaze but those poor blues inevitably bounce back down. Part of you thinks (hopes) Agatha will decide right here and now to skip out on the Inn and devour you right here in the hallway, but instead she gathers her composure and straightens her back.

“If you think I will give in to these childish games, you do not know me well enough.”

You lift a brow as she brushes past you, faltering in her step when she’s close enough to get a whiff of your scent. Her head snaps to you, suddenly gripping you by the neck to pull you closer. A gasp is ripped from your throat as her nose presses against your skin.

“Is this…”

Rio’s perfume. It’s a special mix she makes just for herself, a brand, a unique blend that is distinctly her. Agatha growls at the realisation that you must have snuck back into the room while she was napping earlier and taken Rio’s perfume from the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sorry…Was that not permitted?”

Her jaw tightens at the faux innocence in your tone. Before she can stop herself, she leans in and sinks her teeth into your skin, giving you no warm up whatsoever. You gasp, hands immediately skying up to grip at her free hair. Every time she has her hair down like this, you cannot help but obsess over it. It’s so soft, so pretty, so wild and free and so Agatha.

“Whose attention are you trying to get tonight?” Agatha growls against your neck, sucking, biting, her hot tongue swiping over the wound.

“Yours,” you gasp, arching your body closer to her, “Always yours.”

Though she may not believe you completely, she still pulls back satisfied with your answer, and the bright smirk on her face as her eyes lock onto the mark she has left lets you know she’s satisfied with how she’s branded you. Your stomach drops, twisting uncomfortably with the thought of Catherine seeing the mark and understanding the insinuation.

Agatha senses your discomfort and it only fuels her excitement for tonight. The two of you are out the door before you can protest further.

The sound of lively music and laughter can be heard from far out. It seems the Inn is busy tonight, or the people are louder. Whatever the reason is, you still hear it as you see it in the distance, Agatha’s hold tightening around your linked arms as you approach. It’s a innocent enough touch, but one that you two share the secret of. It’s exciting, you think, the sinking feeling in your stomach turning into something else close to desire. To sit by her, have her hand trailing up and down your thigh under the table for no one to see but for you to feel…

Just the thought has you clearing that ball forming in your throat, catching Agatha’s knowing smirk shot your way. She wraps her arm around yours tighter, pressing her side to yours as you reach the door.

“Best behaviour,” Agatha warns teasingly, nipping at your ear discreetly before pushing the door open, letting everyone see the bright blush on your cheeks. The loud roar of joint singing hits you as the door opens; along with the sounds of boots hitting the ground, fists slamming against tables, and the men playing their fiddles in the back, it’s almost overwhelming. But it’s been some time since you’ve last been here, been around people in general other than Agatha and Rio, so you allow yourself a moment of adjustment. Agatha stays firm beside you, grounding, supportive, guiding.

You’re too distracted, watching over both the familiar and new faces in the crowd. The same group of gossiping grey women are sat in their corner, their typical scowls taken over by cheerful smiles as they join the crowd in their joyous singing. The main singing man is the same as he always is, immediately grinning widely when his eyes catch yours. He sings and sings and sings, stomping on the table as he does so, tipping his hat to you in the middle of his dance.

“There is a tavern in the town, in the town, and there my true love sits him down, sits him down, and drinks his wine as merry as can be, and never, never thinks of me!”

You begin to clap along with them, a soft smile on your lips as you reminisce. Despite you needing to hide yourself and look over your shoulder all the time, it was still a unique, warm feeling to be part of this community. You were still yourself, only showing them the parts that were safe enough to reveal.

“Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let this parting grieve thee, and remember that the best of friends, must part, must part.”

Agatha’s hand is back, her touch warm and firm against your lower back. She passes you a pint, a half-smirk on her lips as she observes your freeing expression. Her reappearance is a reminder of what you left for. A soft warmth takes over your insides, making it incredibly hard not to lay a gentle kiss over her lips at this exact moment. She’s well aware of your struggle, finding it just as difficult; you can tell by the way her eyes go hooded, zoning into your pink, plump lips.

“Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I will hang my harp on the weeping willow tree, and may the world go well with thee.”

Those eyes look even brighter with the candlelight here, those blues tinted a soft orange as they glitter and glow at you. You can’t help but reach to hold her hand in yours, squeezing once, twice, pulling away when it crosses over to inappropriate.

The two of you make your way to a table near the back, badly lit so dark enough for no one to really want to be seated there. Agatha sits across from you, both your dresses long and puffed enough to prevent anyone from seeing her sneaky antics. She slowly lifts her leg, the one closer to the wall and hidden behind her other, and slides her foot under your dress. 

You only realise what she’s doing when you feel her warm foot brush against your ankle; the sip of alcohol you were drinking catches in your throat. “Agatha,” you gasp quietly, terrified of what others may say if they catch you.

The wicked witch grins at you slyly, hiding her smile behind her own pint. “What?” she says, feigning innocence with a dramatic hand to her chest. But you cannot be fooled, not when her foot trails even higher, wrapping around your calf.

“We cannot. Not here, not where Cath–” you cut your own sentence short, cheeks tinting at the mix-up. Agatha’s touch is immediately gone, the humoured expression now taken over by a quiet discomfort. Before she spirals, you try to interrupt her thoughts, “Agatha, I simply meant that she may recognise you and make certain…assumptions. Your anger was very palpable that night. Surely you understand why I am feeling a little…”

“What?” Agatha scowls, “Protective? Why must you care what she feels? Let her assume, because her assumptions are the truth, are they not?”

A frown takes over your face as you take in her words. You’re unsure why she’s this angry about it. Surely keeping your secret is important, no? Especially considering Agatha’s past, discarded and thrown aside for being different. She should understand where you’re coming from…but below the anger, you see a hint of something else, something vulnerable that looks dangerously close to insecurity.

“If what she assumes is that I lo–”

“Y/N?”

Both your heads snap to the sound of your name, landing on Catherine, stood with wide, green eyes, a beautifully intricate beige and pink dress flowing to her ankles, and her blonde curls tight just below her shoulders. Agatha surprisingly contains herself, offering Catherine a thin, forced smile; you figured she’d jump up over the table with a growl.

“Y/N, oh, God, how are you? Where have you been?” Catherine rushes over to the table, her heels clacking against the floorboards. Instinctively, you stand up and let her hug you, wrapping your arms around her when she falls forward a little, tripping over the edge of your chair.

“Catherine,” you mumble with a soft laugh, “It’s good to see you,” pulling away from the hug doesn’t seem to work as you attempt to put a little distance. Catherine simply pulls you back closer, so close her nose is just an inch or so away from pressing to yours.

“I have missed you,” she says in a whisper, eyes hooded as she stares into your own, “Dearly,” she adds, her voice turning dark, deep, a clear attempt at a rasp.

The clearing of a throat pulls her attention away. While your head turns to Agatha expecting the sound to have come from her, Catherine’s turns the other way. When your eyes meet Agatha’s blues, there’s a humoured glimmer in them. She lifts a brow, pointedly looking over your shoulder and you have a feeling you’re about to be in deep trouble.

Slowly, you look over to the other side, gasping softly when your eyes land on Rio, stood with a deep glare over her face, a clenched jaw so dangerously sharp, eyes that could kill with a blink. Her black dress is scandalous to be wearing in public, tight around her curves which you can only see because she’s kept her oversized green cloak open at the front.

“Rio,” you whisper, immediately pulling away from Catherine to jump forward. Once the shock dissipates, all that is left is pure want, your heart yearning to be as close to her now that she’s back.

She has no time to react as you fall into her, arms wrapping around her neck; hers dangle for a moment awkwardly before sinking around your curves, pulling you in possessively tight. You can hear her breath hitching as her face presses into your neck, sniffing deeply; her hands grip your waist tight as she recognises her own scent on you, softly growling into your neck.

She’s so impossibly cold but you don’t care. Her touch is what you’ve been needing for so long, her scent, her presence, so comforting and protective. The way she holds you tight against her as if you belong to her, like she’s missed you and ached for something as simple as a hug, needing you just as badly as you need her. You forget yourself for that moment, falling into her safe arms and melting as she buries her face in your neck and refuses to leave it.

But suddenly, Catherine is laughing awkwardly, forcing the two of you to let go for a moment. It breaks you out of your Rio-bubble for a moment, panic filling your stomach at the closeness Catherine just saw. It seems to have broken Rio out of her Y/N-bubble too, her anger back as she stiffens against you, effectively pulling away until you’re no longer touching.

“New friends?” Catherine asks with a confused half-smile.

It definitely isn’t your best move, but you can’t think of anything but run and decide to pull Catherine away from the two angry witches. “Why don’t I buy you drink? Catch me up on how the Inn has been!”

Minutes later, you realise it was possibly the worst decision you could have made in that moment. Catherine started, and would not stop. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem; that was Rio across the Inn with the deepest of glares to begin with, but that since then has shifted into something you cannot decipher. It’s blank, dark, but she’s refusing to look at anything but you. Agatha’s hand is glued to Rio’s, running a thumb back and forth to soothe her, but it doesn’t do much to calm the bouncing of her knee as she watches Catherine continue to flirt with you.

Perhaps you should go back? The way you’re laughing back dangerously looks like flirting too, especially when she gets closer and closer to you, her hand touching your own, brushing over your bicep, tucking your stray hair behind your ear. And you do nothing to stop it. Part of you starts to enjoy it, though you will never admit that to the two witches across the Inn. You enjoy Catherine’s friendship, and there is no harm in her flirting; it feels good to be wanted. But within minutes you find yourself wanting nothing but Rio, Agatha, your little cabin away from the chaos that comes with this Inn.

It’s more than chaos, but fear. Of not fitting in, of revealing too much of your past, of the lack of acceptance. Agatha and Rio have given you that and more, all you could have ever wanted. Finally coming to a decision, you clear your throat, interrupting Catherine’s story.

“I should head back to my…friends.” 

Catherine frowns, turning to glance over her shoulder to them. “They look awfully familiar…”

“Oh, you must have been drinking too much to remember. I met them here, they sit in that corner all the time!” you laugh nervously, hoping the lie works.

Catherine remains suspicious but drops it when she realises she has bigger problems, one being you disappearing on her again. “Have you been staying elsewhere? Or working? Somewhere far away? I really do miss you, Y/N…There’s so much I think about, so much I would like to say to you but I feel…I feel it may be inappropriate and almost futile to do so if you will not be around.”

“Y/N,” Rio’s raspy voice is easily recognisable to you, suddenly appearing by your side, “We must go,” she says with finality, her tone making it crystal clear that it’s an order, not a suggestion.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced,” Catherine shoots Rio a bright, beautiful smile, as if she is trying to crack the hard interior being thrown her way, “My name is Cath–”

“And we will not be introduced. Y/N.”

Shooting up out of your seat, you give a confused and offended Catherine an apologetic smile, promising to see her soon. You try to follow Rio out, opting out of a hug, but Catherine practically forces you into one, whispering a soft ‘be careful’, clearly interpreting Rio’s abrupt nature as a danger. You can’t help but laugh.

By the time you step out of the Inn, Rio’s already a walk ahead so you practically run to her. “Rio! Rio, wait, is Agatha not–”

“She’s staying for another drink or so,” Rio answers bluntly, not turning back to look at you as she marches in anger.

A frown forms on your lips and you stop, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. “Why are you being this way?” you complain, yelling out as she’s still ahead of you. 

That seems to catch Rio’s attention; she slows before coming to a stop. “Why?” Rio repeats, the anger shaking her voice as she turns to face you, “I have been gone, and it has been excruciating being away from Agatha, and you,” she says, emphasising you, “And I am finally able to come back. Just to track the two of you, and find you draping yourself over some other woman. In front of Agatha, nonetheless.”

You gulp as she steps closer to you, finally coming to a stop right in front of you. She’s not much taller than you, but it feels like she’s towering of you in this moment as she glares deeply, trying to mask her hurt with anger.

“Not only have you been disrespectful to me, but to Agatha, too. And on the very day you were being punished for whining like a child? My, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Her harsh words feel like a slap across the face. Rio’s been angry, distant, but cruel is not a word you’d use to describe her. Before you can even open your mouth to apologise, you’re transported back to the cabin in a cloud of green smoke. Stumbling as you try and gather yourself, your arm ends up gripping her bicep. Rio can’t help but pull you closer at that, lifting you into her arms and pressing you up against her bedroom door. Before she kisses you, she pauses a moment, breathing in your gasps and soft breaths, eyes so beautifully brown, wide and intense.

“I wish I did not have to punish you this moment,” Rio mumbles, sighing as she memorises every crease in your forehead, the curve of your nose, the plump shape of your lips, “I have missed you dearly, my sweet…” Rio’s voice turns soft for a moment before she growls, “If only you missed me so.”

Her lips crash against yours, claiming, possessive, and rough; she sucks at your bottom lip roughly before nipping at it in soft punishment, groaning as you whimper against her. She allows you only a few seconds of roaming hands, nails scratching along her back through her cloak, but before you can go any further your hands are pulled back, a rough material wrapping around them in seconds.

“What is that?” you mumble as Rio pulls away from your lips for a moment, satisfied as she observes your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes.

“No touching,” Rio commands simply, tugging at the contraption holding your hands together, “It’s about time you’re introduced to my vines,” she chuckles playfully, trailing softer kisses down your neck as you sigh and turn your head to the side. Rio’s pleased with your obedience, immediately marking your new skin with her teeth, tongue, lips that suck and kiss tenderly.

“I did,” you gasp out, arching your body towards her when you tug against your restraints aimlessly.

“Did what?” Rio whispers against your neck, licking up to the spot just behind your ear. She sucks harshly, coaxing a choked moan out of you, smirking against your skin as she does so.

You struggle to keep hold of your composure, the ache between your legs growing by the second, but you manage to push you, “Miss you. I did miss you, Rio.”

She falters in her kisses, her grip on your waist loosening for a moment of weakness. “And here I was,” she chuckles, “thinking you liked Agatha more than me,” she jokes, but you can hear the vulnerability and insecurity she’s attempting to mask. 

With a frown, you brush your nose against her cheek, trying to get her attention. It takes a few frustrated attempts but she finally pulls back to look into your eyes with a sigh, and a tight jaw. “Why would you think that?”

Rio mumbles incoherently, choosing to ignore your question and silence you with a rough kiss. Her tongue slides against your bottom lip before slithering through, brushing over your teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth as if claiming her territory. You let her do so, finding this to be a comfort to her; if she’ll ignore your words, you’ll let her take you as she pleases until there is not a single flash of uncertainty left in those beautiful brown eyes.

All you can do is submit to her touch. She yanks at the restraints, tugging you forward to follow her to the bed. But instead of sitting you down on it, she pushes at your shoulders until your knees hit the ground. Looking up at her with parted lips, you take in just how ethereal she is. Her brown locks look untamed, frizzy and almost as wild as those eyes. She almost looks feral, but still controlled as her eyes follow the movement of your neck as you gulp.

“You missed me?” Rio asks softly, her hand reaching to gently hold your jaw.

Sighing and leaning into her touch, you blink softly. “I did.”

Rio shoots you a small, satisfied smile before it turns dark, her jaw clenching and hand sliding down to your neck. “Then show me.”

You’re well aware that your hands are tied, but the look of desire Rio shoots down has you tugging, desperate to pull at her thighs until your face is pressed exactly where she wants it. With a chuckle and flick of her fingers, her clothing falls off her body, pooling at her ankles. Seeing her now, entirely naked, all smooth, tanned skin…God, you don’t know how you haven’t collapsed yet. Forgetting to take a breath causes you to get a little lightheaded but Rio’s hand is right there to keep you upright.

She leans down, her concerned but humoured eyes meeting yours. “Should I take that as a good sign?” Rio teases, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

Without uttering a word back, you slide your face against her hand until her thumb’s pressed against your lips. Rio’s eyes turn a shade darker, hooded as you flick a tongue out, teasing her for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip of her tongue. And then you suck, hard, cheeks hollowed, and Rio can’t control the gasp that escapes, can’t control the way her teeth clench together, the wetness gathering between her legs and coating her inner thighs.

With a growl that almost sounds close to a whine, she rises back up to her feet, hands gripping onto your locks tightly. The two of your move together, you moving your head forward while she pushes you closer until your tongue is sliding through her slick folds. You moan in unison at the first touch, Rio almost quivering with desperate want.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at that,” Rio’s praises shoot right down to your core; your thighs press together, desperate for the tiniest spark of friction. Tugging at your restraints doesn’t work again as you feel the urge to grip at her thighs and pull her closer. Rio does the work instead, using your mouth for her pleasure.

Her nails scratch along your scalp as she rolls her lips languidly, trying to savour the moment, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. The way she looks down with her lips parted practically panting like she’s in heat drives you to insanity. Eager to please, you swirl your tongue around her entrance, teasing it before sliding in with ease.

“Yes, just like that,” Rio hisses at the feeling, staggering for a moment before grinding down harder, wanting more of you inside her. It takes another minute of your tongue expertly twisting and swirling inside her before a disgruntled whimper escapes her, and within seconds she’s twisted around, pushing your head against the edge of the bed to let it down.

“Please,” you pant out the moment your tongue slips out of her, licking your lips for more of her sweet taste, “I want to make you–”

Rio cuts you off by pushing her lips against you again, letting you drown in her with desperate, muffled moans. She lets out the same as she grinds her clit over your tongue hard, fast, her rhythm faltering.

“Yes, fuck, Y/N,” she moans your name, throwing her head back as she practically mounts your face smothering you between her thighs, “So good for me,” she pants, “So pretty,” she gasps, her head bouncing back to look you in the eyes as she reaches her climax. It’s that, seeing that desperate, eager-to-please look, the clear submission, hands tied but tongue obedient to her. That’s what pushes her over the edge.

She whines as she comes, hips twitching, so close your nose is buried in her. Wanting to see just how far you can push her, you suddenly wrap your lips around her clit, sucking while flicking your tongue. It forces a high-pitched scream from her throat, desperate, croaky, so incredibly sexy you feel your own heat throbbing in response. God, you could come just from this, you’re sure of it, whimpering and whining around her clit as you pulse, empty and desperate to be filled.

Once Rio pulls herself back, you lick at your lips again, panting up at her with lust-filled feral eyes. She groans at the intense gaze you give her, clearly taken by you; she can barely contain herself, forgetting you’re meant to be punished for your behaviour as she drops down to lick herself off your face. Her tongue slides over your skin, your chin, neck, wherever she finds herself before slipping past your lips.

You moan into the kiss, letting her set a languid pace as your tongues dance together softly. “Please,” you beg, whispering against her lips as she pulls back for a moment, but she ignores you, kissing you again and again until you’re whining, trying to grind up into nothing, “Rio, please.”

She chuckles wickedly, biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is gone just as fast as her tongue swipes against it. You’re confused for a moment on how she’s done that, but you’re too distracted to ask, your desire ever-present in a messy, heated pulse between your legs.

“Are you forgetting this is a punishment?” her hand slides up your chest, pinching your nipples through your dress, “This is quite the outfit,” she mumbles hungrily, watching your breasts push up as you heave, “Were you trying to impress that whore?”

“No!” you immediately protest, shaking your head vigorously, “I swear it, I was only attempting to frust–” you cut your own words off, realising you’ve fallen into a trap. Rio grins in satisfaction, tipping your head up with a finger to your chin.

“Frustrate…Agatha?”

There’s a silence as you refuse to answer, terrified of the repercussions. But you’re already in them, already experiencing them. It seems Rio is being creative with her punishment tonight, choosing to ignore your desires completely knowing it would drive you to the very brink of losing your composure.

Rio rises to her feet, your face directly in front of her glistening heat again. But this time she swirls her fingers, controlling the vines. More of them manifest, this time gripping your ankles too, and separating your wrists; you’re pulled up the bed until you’re spread across for her. With another snap of her fingers, your clothes suddenly disappear, but she leaves the tight black corset over your stomach just for her satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful…” Rio says with wonder, running her slender, cold fingers over your legs, thighs, purposely ignoring the obvious mess between them, “Something as beautiful as this deserves to be worshipped…too bad you won’t be touched tonight.”

A pout springs and tears immediately fill up in your eyes. Surely she must be teasing? Just a threat to make sure you behave? “I’ll be good, I promise, please,” you plead, your voice quivering in fear.

Rio falters for a moment before her hard gaze steadies again. Her touch is cold, dangerously so, but you crave it so, pulsing with need; within seconds she’s left you, walking into small washroom attached to their bedroom. Rio ignores your pleas, your desperate cries for her to come back. As much as it pains her, you must be punished for your bratty behaviour.

By the time she comes back, you’ve quieted down to soft whimpers, the pout still painted on your swollen lips. You perk up when you see her, trying to lift your neck to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

“It seems you have forgotten who you belong to,” Rio rasps, “And that as much as you are ours…we are also yours.”

Her words hit hard, harder than you expected them to. There’s nothing to do but watch her in adoration, wanting to voice your own feelings too but finding your throat too dry to speak those words. Rio hums as she observes but then reveals what she’s holding behind her back. You immediately tense up as your eyes lock onto the leather cock, made of a dark green material this time. It’s slightly thicker but shorter than the one she had used last time, but it makes you hungry for it nonetheless, desperate for the stretch.

But Rio shocks you this time as the vines let go of your ankles just for her to start sliding the harness up your legs. “Wait, what are you–”

“I told you, Y/N. You will not be touched tonight,” she says with finality, leaving no room for argument. Even as you open your mouth to protest, she stops you, climbing on top you and crawling like a cat until two of her fingers slip past your lips. Moaning at the filthy act, you swirl your tongue between her fingers, sucking gently, obediently, eyes locked to hers trying to entice her. But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she simply smirks at your pathetic desperation and rolls her hips over the fake cock between your legs.

Rio sighs softly at the first touch, letting it pass through her folds to slick it up. It doesn’t take much; not after your eager tongue and the long wait while she’s been gone. You gasp around her fingers, and she stutters, eyes locked to yours while lifting her hips up, using her other hand to adjust the cock. Rio sinks down, gasping at the filling sensation. It stretches her deliciously, and clearly it’s been a while for her given the slow, sensual pace.

“Fuck,” she curses softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours, fingers still buried in your mouth. You suck on them when you wake up from your haze, bringing her urgency back to life. She gasps again as she bounces down hard, so hard the lewd sound of your bodies meeting echoes in the room.

Rio pushes her fingers further in, forcing a gag out of you; the sound only excites her as she begins a slow but hard pace, sitting up until she’s nearly empty then slamming back down again with a loud groan. Though you’re turned on beyond belief, all you want to do at this moment is hold her, grip her waist, mouth at her breasts. You want to feel her, to guide her through her pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, muffled with her fingers still in your mouth. Rio continues to ignore you, too caught up in seeking her own pleasure. The wet sound of her pussy clamping around your cock is dizzying, paired with her enticing moans and you’re a goner, “Fuck, please, Rio,” you beg, but your pleas only urge her on more. 

She bounces down harder, grinding her hips against yours to seek friction over her clit, but she sees it’s not enough she risks taking her fingers out and giving you the ability to speak once again. Those same fingers, wet from your mouth, slide down to her clit right away as she sits up.

“You’re breathtaking,” you gasp, finally able to look down between her legs where you two meet. She’s practically shining, absolutely soaked; her slick coats both your thighs, sticking to the leather cock as it pistons through her over and over again, “Fuck, Rio, please, I want–”

Rio breaks your words with a loud moan, using her other hand to grope at her chest. “I already told you, sweetheart. You’re not getting touched tonight.”

You groan in frustration, hands turning into fists as you fail to contain your needs. “I don’t care, Rio, I just want to touch you!”

The witch falters on top of you, not expecting you to be that desperate for touching her. “You–” she stutters, moaning softly as a roll of her hips has the cock pressing up all her sensitive spots, “You want to touch me?” Rio asks again, her tone curious, surprised, eyes wide and analytical as she stares down at you.

The way she’s looking at you is almost hypnotic. “Please, let me, just let me hold you,” you whimper, tugging against the restraints again.

Rio leans down, her lips hovering over yours and pulling back when you reach up too close to kiss her. “Really?” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours as she wraps herself around you, “You want to touch me, baby?”

A whimper escapes you. “Yes. Please, I need to touch you.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, gripping your jaw for a moment, just looking at you before pouncing down like a cat. Her lips attach to yours in a tender but controlling kiss, moaning into your mouth as you brush your tongue against hers. She begins slamming her hips down against you again, whining into the kiss. 

This time when you tug, you pull hard and the restraints fall with your wrists. Not wasting a second, you reach down and grip her waist finding her skin warm to the touch now. Rio leans into the touch, pressing her body down to yours as tight as possible.

“You feel so good, so warm,” you pant against her lips, nipping at her lower lip playfully as your hands slides to her backside. You indulge for a moment, squeezing to see her reaction; she groans, grinding her hips hard enough for the pressure to build up on your own clit, “Fuck, yes.”

Rio swallows your gasp, unable to keep her lips off yours. With your grip hard and secure, you help move her up and down, lifting your own hips up to meet her halfway. Your eagerness drives Rio crazy, warming her stomach with desire and adoration for you; she leans down whining against your lips, brushing over them every few seconds as you thrust into her.

“Wanna see you come,” you mumble incoherently, eyes wide with feral desire. All you have is one goal and that is to make her unravel before your eyes.

Rio groans possessively at that, sliding her tongue through your lips in a quick goodbye before she sits up again. She literally rips the corset still covering you, throwing it to the side. Her nails dig into your stomach as she holds for balance, keeping her hooded brown eyes locked to you. She’s close, you can tell by the faltering grinds, the moans bordering on whines, how her legs suddely weaken, allowing you to move her instead.

With quick movements, you let go of her backside and slide a hand between her legs. Your thumb presses at her clit, rubbing hard circles as she gasps, twitching on top of you. “Come for me,” you beg, “Please.”

“Say it,” Rio demands between gasps, hanging on by a thread.

You immediately know what she’s requesting and grip her hip tightly. “I’m yours, Rio.”

With your clear, certain words, Rio’s neck snaps back, body arching as she slams down onto your cock. You keep thrusting up, grinding into her and rubbing your thumb over her clit, watching with parted lips at the work of art on top of you. Her skin flushes as she reaches her high, red blooming over her chest, neck, those rosy cheeks.

You can’t help but lean up, ignoring the pain in your abdomen muscles at the stretch; you need your lips attached to her in some way. Your mouth finds her neck, sinking your teeth possessively; Rio’s hand curves around to the back of your neck to hold you tight against her, gasping, panting, barely able to utter a word, but her eagerness for you to stay is all the praise you need.

“Y/N, baby,” Rio moans, voice hoarse, hips twitching as your thumb decides to slow down and let her ride her way back down. Only when she tugs on your hair do you slide your thumb away, holding onto her ass instead to help her gently grind until she’s had enough.

Rio hums in satisfaction as she climbs off your lap, rolling until she’s lying by your side. She pulls you into her arms and you eagerly bury your face in her neck, letting her earthy scent melt over you. You refused to squirm despite the painful pulse of neglect between your thighs; you’re determined to take your punishment as is. Perhaps you’ll be rewarded tomorrow morning for it, or–

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your nest of hair, leaving a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you deserve a reward?” Rio asks, playfully nipping at your ear.

You can’t help but softly whimper at the teasing touch, already feeling her hand creeping up around your waist. “I deserve what you feel like giving.”

Perfect answer. You can tell from Rio’s wolf-like grin as she slithers down, leaving soft yet possessive kisses along your skin. She slows once she reaches your stomach, taking her time to mark you, claim you, making sure you have a reminder of who you belong to. The leather cock is long gone by now, thrown onto the floor as Rio undoes the harness with ease.

“Please,” you sigh, squirming up against her stomach, ensuring she can feel just how soaked you are for her. The warm slick pulls a groan from the depths of her throat. Rio scratches your sides on her way down until she reaches your thighs, tugging them over her shoulder. She takes no moment to observe, to tease, to lick the wetness around your inner thighs. No, Rio dives right in like a hungry wolf, unable to contain herself from slipping her tongue directly through to your inner walls.

You feel yourself immediately clamping down around her hot, expert tongue as she curls it, swirls, finding every spot to make you weak in her arms. You’ve been so worked up you’re already so close – which is likely why she’s avoided your throbbing clit. Letting her savour the moment, you arch your back and dig your fingers into her scalp, pushing her further into your wet core.

“God, I’m–Fuck, this is–” you stumble and stutter around, unable to form a coherent sentence, already seeing spots in your vision. The pleasure is searing, bordering painful from the edging, from her neglection, from the pressure of her pounding on top of you, “Rio, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Rio hums against you in answer, the vibrations rushing straight through to your clit. It has you gasping, thighs tightening around her head. You’re worried for a moment on how she could possibly breathe down there but Rio simply growls hungrily, sliding her tongue out to lick through your slit, refusing to let a drop go to waste. 

Before you can protest, feeling so empty, Rio’s fingers replace her tongue, curling in deliciously hitting that spot that makes you see stars. She allows your thrown back head, allows you to groan and moan and thrust your hips up against her face, her fingers. Seeing you so free, taken with pleasure is an astonishing sight for her. 

“I wanna–Fuck, please, please make me come,” you moan out pathetically, your cheeks flushing in humiliation at how desperate you sound. But Rio lets out a sound, one that borders on painful and you glance down to look at her expression. She looks completely taken, her eyes blown wide, nothing but adoration and a deep desire in them. She looks just as desperate as you do when she flicks her tongue over your clit, sucking it into her mouth.

It’s that moment when she looks at you with darkened, powerful eyes that flash black, a colour you’ve never seen before in them. The fear mixed with the excitement of her power has you moaning like a whore, loud and high as you reach your climax. Rio’s right there to hold you through it, fucking her fingers through the wet tightness of your walls. 

She doesn’t stop, not until there are tears slipping down your cheeks as you push against her head. She marks her way back up again, leaving bright colours over your skin until she reaches your parted, panting lips. Rio doesn’t kiss you, just looks at you, looks through you. Her hand feels hot against your cheek, but it’s fleeting, as if you’re fragile and precious to her. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention, forcing Rio to snap out of her hypnosis; she turns back to see Agatha standing by the door, leaning on the ledge with a smirk.

“Satisfied?”

Rio huffs in soft laughter, leaning back on the pillow with an arm stretched behind her head. “Very.”

Agatha hums, nodding as she steps forward. “Good,” the witch states, taking her time as she pulls the strings at the back of her dress, “It’s my turn. Let’s see if you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

masterlist + guidelines

[gretavangroupie]

Bluebird Lane - Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Pining, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Touching.

A/N: Six months later... I am so sorry this took so long, and I promise the next chapter will be coming a lot sooner than this one did. Thanks for sticking it out with me! Also, a gigantic, massive thank you to @gretavanmoon and @builtbybrokenbells for endlessly encouraging me with this one and daydreaming with me. Thanks for reading!

JAKE POV

The sound of the neighbor's lawn mower wakes you from your sleep far earlier than you planned. You roll to your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you tap your sound machine to shut off the white noise. The clock reads 7:51AM and the sun is shining through the slats of your blinds, warming the room despite the best efforts of your ceiling fan. You grab your phone from your nightstand, trying to open your eyes wide enough that face ID will work, blinking away the sleep and stretching out your stiff legs. You scroll through your notifications, looking for anything pressing but feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that there is nothing on the calendar for you today.

You roll out of your bed, tossing the sheets and duvet over the spot you were laying in before, grabbing your sweats and sliding them over your legs. You drag yourself to the bathroom, seeing that her bedroom door is still closed and no sound is coming from behind it. She’s still asleep. Your mind flashes back to last night and the way she tasted on your lips, the softness of her skin, and the sound of her laugh. 

After brushing your teeth you make your way to the kitchen, digging around in the pantry for the coffee beans and filters so that you can start your day. You dump in the pre-grinded beans and press brew, knowing that in a few minutes the house will fill with the aroma of coffee. You settle on the couch with your phone in hand, scrolling through your socials and replying to a few texts as the coffee pot starts to brew. A few minutes later it beeps, pulling your attention away from your phone as it drags you into the kitchen. You pull a mug from the cabinet and pour in the steaming hot coffee, breathing in deeply the rich smell. This mug is from Arizona, clay colored with a turquoise Kokopelli on the front. You remember the struggle of hauling it around with you on that tour so many years ago, but somehow it made the trip and now several moves.

You hear the soft padding of feet in the hallway and a flutter rises in your chest. You turn to look at her, simultaneously pulling a mug down from the cabinet for her. As she rounds the corner you see her, still in her tiny pajamas and with sleepy eyes. She crosses her arms across her chest as she speaks.

“Do I smell coffee?” she squeaks, her voice still waking up for the day. 

“You do,” you answer, nodding her over. You pour the mug full of coffee and extend it to her, instantly wondering if she likes anything in it. “How do you like your coffee?”

She accepts the mug from your hand, grabbing it with both of hers. “Just creamer. I will pick some up at the store later today,” she pauses, “Thank you for this.”

“Of course,” you urge, “Can’t start my day without it.”

She leans her hip into the edge of the counter, sipping from the edge of the mug as silence falls over the two of you. You know it's now or never, so you take a deep breath and clear your throat. 

“Listen,” you start, leaning on the counter to mimic her position. “I’m– Sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me and I feel as though I overstepped a boundary.”

Her face flushes pink as she listens, biting her lips together as her eyes search yours.  “Oh, it’s…It’s no big deal Jake. It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize. It was a tiny kiss, barely anything.”

You swallow harshly as you remember it differently. “It was just the heat of the moment I suppose. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Just wanted to make sure we are okay, I guess,” you continue. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” she says, “No big deal.” You can see her holding back on what she really wants to say, but you don’t want to push. 

“Yeah, okay, yeah. No big deal.” you confirm. You both stand awkwardly looking at each other, the tension in the room growing larger and larger by the second. Her eyes flick over to the clock hanging on the wall, a wave of panic washing over her.

“I have to go get ready for work…” she pauses, “Thank you for the coffee.” 

You suddenly feel guilty about your late night. “I didn’t know you worked today. I shouldn’t have kept you up so late last night.”

She smiles, a small giggle leaving her lips. “You didn’t keep me up, I chose to stay up. And I only have two clients today. Should be a short day.”

You find yourself wishing you were one of them. To lay on her table and feel her hands on you, working away at the tense muscles in your body. Fuck, it sounds good. You shake your head of the thoughts, refocusing on her as she walks down the hallway, shutting her bedroom door behind her. 

Your mind swirls back to last night as you look out the kitchen window. The sun is shining brightly into the backyard, a few birds chirping in the Oak tree as your neighbor finishes up their lawn. Then, part of the conversation settles within you. Her garden. She wants to plant a garden here. And as you watch the bugs fly around outside the window an idea strikes you. Suddenly your free day is now filled with a plan.

—

HER POV

The drive to work is short, but that doesnt keep your mind from racing with the memories of last night. Every moment, big and small, replaying on the ten minute drive. His lips, his eyes, his touch, his laugh. Everything all at once right in the middle of Saturday morning farmers market traffic. Your heart rate picks up as you let the feeling of his lips on yours take center stage, though, the horn honking from the car behind you pulls you from the daydream.

You make the turn into the parking lot, having your choice of parking space today. After a few minutes you’re unlocking the front door and turning on the lights, bathing the small reception area in warm light. As you wait for the computer to power on, you check your phone, seeing a few missed texts that you take mental note of to respond to later. Quiet music begins to play through the speakers of the building as the booking software opens on the computer screen. You confirm your two appointments for the day, seeing that one is a new customer, and one is a return customer. Though, it's the last name of the return customer that has your heart beating out of your chest. 

It couldn’t be. Right?

Before you can confirm, the front door opens and a woman walks in. Older and gray, she hobbles through the small lobby and up to the reception desk. 

“Mrs. Sandborn?” you ask, confirming it’s your first client and not a walk in. 

“Yes, dear,” she smiles kindly. You can tell she is a sweet woman and that this appointment is going to be a breeze. The session is only thirty minutes long and you find she wants special attention paid to her lumbar area. 

Just as you thought the appointment slipped by in the blink of an eye as you got to know the woman and heard a bit of her life story as you worked on her aching back. She thanks you profusely as she leaves, making a return appointment for a few weeks from now. 

You see it’s not long before your second session with your returning client, and once again your pulse starts to race as you realize this client is likely very related to your new roommate. The thought has your palms sweating as you work to sanitize your work room, laying out new linens and checking the clients preferred diffuser scent for his session. 

The bell on the front door alerts you of his presence, and with a deep breath you shake away your nerves, walking into the lobby to meet him. His long dark hair is tied up at his neck as a beaming smile crosses his face. There is no doubt he is related to Jake, you can see it now clear as day and you know this hour long session will be the longest of your life.

“Hi Mr. Kiszka, great to see you again.”

A smirk pulls his smile to the side as he gives you a subtle nod, “You can call me Sam.”

—

Your mind is still racing as you weave through the midday traffic on your way home. You learned quite a few new things about your new roommate, whether you wanted to or not. You didn’t dare tell him that Jake is your roommate, not wanting to cross the line of professionalism, and honestly because you kind of wanted to hear what he had to say while still under the veil of anonymity. The hour seemed to move at a glacial pace as he told you of life on the road, new projects, and upcoming adventures he had planned with his brothers. But now, finally as you drive home you are able to put it past you, ready to spend the rest of the day at home decompressing, alone.

As you pull up to your house though, you notice Jake is actually still around, and working on something on the side of the house. You feel your pulse quicken as you catch a glimpse of him shoveling dirt, his t-shirt soaked through with sweat as the Tennessee sun beats down on him in the heat of the day. His black sunglasses sit low on his nose as he works, shoveling dirt into a wheelbarrow. His hair is twisted into a knot at the back of his head, a few sweaty strands escaping from his exertion.

Curious as to what exactly he is doing, you find yourself stepping out of your car and walking across the grassy lawn. You’re hesitant at first, still feeling a bit unsure about everything after last night, but you swallow down your anxiety as you step up to the side of the wheelbarrow.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you jut your hip out to the side as you finally speak, “What–What exactly are you doing?”

His head snaps up from his shovel, and he flicks his sunglasses up on his head, surprised to see you. 

“Shit, you’re home earlier than I expected.”

“Huh?” you question. 

“Well, I wanted to get it done before you got home, but, I guess…” he pauses, running his glove covered hand over his dirty face. “Surprise, here’s your garden,” he smirks, “Or what will be your garden.”

“Mine?” you ask, genuinely taken aback.

“Figured it’s the least I could do for you before I leave,” he answers, resting his arm on top of the shovel. 

Shock makes its way through your body, and you’re positive that no one has ever done anything this kind, let alone thoughtful, for you. 

A huge grin spreads across his face as he takes in your look of surprise. “So, you know what you want to plant here?”

You swallow quickly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts, “Yeah, I mean– yeah it’s summer, there’s a lot I can plant right now.” you stammer. “But– I don't have any seeds or–”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I thought…I know of this local plant nursery nearby. I could…take you?” He seems nervous to ask, and continues. “It’s kinda over near my office and I'm sure they have seeds and stuff. I pass it every day.”

“Sure,” you answer all too quickly. “It would need to be soon though, so that they have time to root and everything.”

He looks down to the perfect rectangle of tilled dirt as he smiles to himself, “Yeah. Yeah let me get cleaned up a little bit and we can… go now? If you want?”

“Oh, um, s-sure.” you answer, the initial shock now being replaced by the surprise of his forwardness. 

“Cool, give me a minute. I’ll drive.” he smiles, leaning his shovel against the side of the house before sauntering across the yard and through the front door. 

You stand there staring at this patch of dirt, in the perfect spot for a garden. You didn’t know he knew much about gardening, his brother failing to mention that detail during today's session. You mentally go over your list of summer vegetables, trying to decide what would be best for the space. 

Seconds later you hear the front door closing, and see Jake locking the door behind himself. 

“You ready?” he asks, the past ten minutes a whirlwind of events.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile as you head towards his Jeep. He opens the door for you, helping you inside, his hands still a bit dirty from his work. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. 

“How was work?” he asks, so casual for someone you only just met.

“It was good actually, just a short day, but um, your brother Sam was my last client.” you say nervously. 

“What?” he asks, his head snapping over to the side. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen him once before but I didn’t know you then. I saw his name on my schedule today and figured it had to be your brother, but when I saw him I knew for sure.” you admit.

“Wha–what did he say?” he asks, seemingly nervous. “Did he say anything about me, or?”

“Oh uh, nothing really,” I lie, not ready to disclose some of the things I learned in the hour-long session. “There isn’t a whole lot of talking during the appointments.”

He seems satisfied with that answer, dropping it with the shake of his head and a huff of annoyance.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes, just the sound of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing. You decide to break the silence, a question eating you alive. 

“How did you know where to dig? That is the best spot in the whole yard.” you ask. “I had no idea you were into gardening.”

“I mean, I’m not. I did a little bit of research after you told me you wanted a garden here.” he answers, peering over at you beneath his dark lenses. 

“That was just last night…How did you–”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you. Only took a little bit of reading.” he grins, turning his attention back to the road. “Was worth it.”

“Well, thank you. Truly.” you breathe, letting a kind smile turn your lips. 

“Of course,” he answers, his tone the same as yours. Soft. 

—

“How about zucchini?” you ask, “Do you like zucchini?”

“Love it, one of my favorites,” Jake replies, plucking the seed packet from the wooden stand. He has an entire handful of different seeds, insisting you plant them all.

“We can’t do too many! It will be too crowded!” you laugh, scanning the rack of packets.

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles, as he grabs a few more packets of common herbs. Your eyes wander around the quaint nursery spotting a wire rack of plants on their last legs, brown and withering away for a severely reduced price. When you spot the sad looking tomato plant you tilt your head to the side and wander towards it. 

Your fingers graze its sad, wilted leaves, only one lone and tiny tomato bud on its puny stem. The soil is dry, and you can tell it has been neglected in its short life. You feel Jake walk up behind you, taking in the sight just the same as you. 

“I think I’m gonna save it,” you say, turning to meet his eyes. He looks at you like you’re crazy turning to look back at the entire row of strong and healthy tomato plants just behind the two of you. 

“Why that one? There are about a hundred great ones we could get.” he says, gesturing with his head. 

“No, this one is so sad. It needs its underdog story,” you pause, grabbing the frail plant. “I’m saving him.”

A grin pulls across his lips as he gently shakes his head, “Okay. Whatever you want, as long as I get to eat the tomatoes.”

You smile and nod, “So you think I can do it…” you say cheekily. 

“What?” he questions, walking the two of you towards the hose attachments.

“Save him.” you answer.

“Oh, well, yeah. I guess so.” he grins shyly, plucking a new sprayer nozzle from the shelf. “I think I’m going to enjoy watching you try.”

“Oh, well, I thought you knew…” you continue, watching as he shoots you a confused look. “This is a big commitment, you know, becoming tomato parents. It will take the both of us. Are you sure you’re up for that kind of commitment?” you say playfully.

He pretends to be unsure as he taps his fingers against his lips, “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to be, aren’t I? I can’t let you raise him alone.”

“I think so.” you giggle. 

He smiles at you with a brief pause as he looks at the pitiful plant, and then to you, “Then let's pay for him and get him home.”

—

JAKE POV

“Was that the last of the pack?” you ask, watching as Y/N places the last of the cucumber seeds into the ground. The sun is starting to dip below the trees, your daylight nearly gone. You worked all afternoon planting the seeds in the fresh soil, a smile plastered to your face as you talked and laughed at each other's handiwork throughout the process. Her tomato plant, which you named Heinz, was placed in its new home on the front porch, pruned and watered and ready to begin its journey back to full health. 

“Yep, that’s all of ‘em,” she grins, dusting off her dirty hands on her denim shorts. 

You take that as your cue to try out the new spray nozzle you bought for the hose, wanting it to be as easy as possible to water the garden bed. She starts to gently tap her shoe on the dirt, making sure it's packed down as you turn on the spigot and hear the water start to flow. 

You pull the trigger on the nozzle and a few drizzles of water start to flow through the head. You begin to spray the patch of dirt, watering your newly planted herbs and vegetables for the first time. Y/N steps back, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you. Just as she looks away you aim the spray at her, hitting her arms with the cold faucet water. 

“Jake!” she squeals, your playful action taking her by surprise. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head and shakes off her wet arms. 

“What?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your face as you spray her again in a different place.

This time her jaw drops as she starts to walk over to you, ready to turn the tables. You back away, holding the water house out of her reach as she tries to wrestle it away from you. She puts up a valiant fight, but it’s just not enough.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. That was my bad.” you lie, waiting for her to retreat just enough, and she does, stepping back and turning her attention back to the water that is now flowing onto the ground. 

But you don’t concede that easily. As soon as she feels safe, you spray her again, knocking her sunglasses off of her head. 

“Jacob!” she shouts, this time running at you full force and ripping the nozzle from your hands before you can stop her. Instantly you are soaked with water from the hose, the two of you fighting each other for the upper hand between sprays of cold water. 

You finally regain control of the water hose as the two of you laugh, now completely soaking wet. You let the spray hit her face, and that is her final straw as she tackles you to the ground in order to end this water war. 

“You are terrible!” she laughs, still doing her best to grab the hose from you. But sadly for her, you are stronger and find yourself rolling her to her back on the muddy grass as you hold the hose out of her reach.

You are both dripping wet and mud covered as you hover over her, your smiles a mirror image of each other as you both breathe heavily trying to catch your breath. It’s then that you take her in, in her most raw, vulnerable state as she lays beneath you. You stare at her for a moment, everything silent between the two of you as the hose continues to run. 

Without warning, your hand moves up to swipe away a muddy drip of water from her cheek, softly and probably far too tenderly for a pair of roommates. Before you can pull your hand from her warm, wet skin, you feel her fingers move to grip at the back of your neck, pulling you down to her as she presses her lips to yours. 

You’re instantly transported back to last night. Back to that first sweet kiss shared between the two of you. Her lips ignite the same feeling as they did then, soft and electric, but this time wet. 

It’s her that initiated this kiss. It’s her that wants this, and so you take that as your green flag to descend deeper into it, kissing her back the way you’ve thought about every second since last night. You let your muddy, wet hand cradle her cheek, your thumb balancing on the curve of her chin. 

You feel yourself relax a bit, really feeling the moment of this kiss. You feel a vibration against your lips as she lets the smallest whine leave her mouth and flow into yours, her tongue beginning to part your lips. Her free hand finds its way to your back, her fist gripping your soaked t-shirt, as her other hand tangles into the hair at the base of your neck.

She tastes how you imagined, stronger than she did last night, and you want more. Your hand slides down her neck as you use your thumb to tilt her chin higher. Your left hand is still supporting your weight above her as she lays in the grass below. You want to get closer, but you don’t want to move too quickly. You’re happy with this, and you’re willing to take whatever she will give you. 

You feel her try to pull you closer, her tongue moving further into your mouth as your own groan leaves your lips. Her wet leg slides against your own and you want nothing more than to feel her naked skin against yours. You almost let yourself settle on top of her, but a passing car pulls you both from the heated moment, placing you both back in your front yard. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, pulling away from her quickly as you realize what exactly had happened. She too, sits up quickly, adjusting her wet clothes and wiping her lips of the taste of you. Yet again you have thrown yourself at this woman, and are left in an awkward situation. 

You stand to your feet and adjust your pants, hoping to conceal the fact that you are hard beneath them. You run your hand over your chin as you look at her, feeling terrible for what happened in the heat of the moment. 

“I’m sorry,” you start, a deeper tone taking over your voice, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” It’s the absolute last thing you want to be saying to her, your attraction to her growing tenfold over the course of the day. 

She stares up at you in shock, or maybe embarrassment, you can’t be too sure. But embarrassment is the last thing she should feel. You haven’t been kissed like that in quite some time. She stands quickly, shielding her hard nipples with crossed arms. She nods and doesn’t say much, and for some reason, it makes you feel worse. 

“We should um, go get cleaned up,” you say, hoping to break the tension. “You can grab the first shower, I’ll clean up out here.”

She nods and starts to walk towards the door, stopping quickly as she calls your name. “Jake?”

“Yeah?” you answer hopefully. 

“Thanks for doing all this.” she says quietly, before disappearing into the shared home. 

—

As you make your way back into the house you notice the quiet. Her bedroom door is shut, and you can’t hear a single sound from behind it. You figured she would be in the shower by now. You walk to the kitchen sink, washing the mud from your hands before attempting to touch anything else in the house. The dirt swirls down the drain as you finally hear her bedroom door open, and the quick closing of the bathroom door. 

You take this as your chance to head to your bedroom, finding your phone laying on the bed, where it has been for the last several hours. Truth be told you forgot about its existence until this exact moment. You strip yourself of your muddy clothes before reaching for it, perching yourself on the edge of the bed as the screen lights up in your hands. 

Missed Call: Sam

You bite your lips together as you decide whether or not to call him back, but eventually decide to fill your mind with something other than the girl in the shower. You hit his contact letting the call ring out as you hold it to your ear. He answers on the second ring. 

“Dude, where have you been?” he asks as he answers the call. 

“Sorry, I was doing some stuff in the yard here. What’s up?” you answer. 

“Nothing too much, thought maybe we could get a drink or something later…”

Fuck yeah, thats exactly what you need. 

“You know what? Yeah, I actually need to speak to you dammit.” you growl out, fully planning to interrogate him about his little session with Y/N earlier. 

“About?” he asks, as if not knowing. 

“I think you know. I’ll see you at Rack Em’ in about an hour?” you confirm.

“See you then.” he says, ending the call. 

A few minutes later you hear her coming out of the bathroom, her figure a blur of blue towel and wet hair as she dashes across the hallway. You let out a deep breath as you pull yourself up off your bed and make your way into the bathroom, ready to shower away the mud and sweat from your skin. 

You grab your towel before stepping into the bathroom, the air still steamy and smelling of her sweet body wash as you enter. You feel yourself start to grow hard just from the smell alone. You start the shower with a growl, pissed at yourself for letting her have this effect on you. For consuming your mind this quickly. 

You cannot do this. She is your roommate.

Your really sexy roommate whose lips were on yours mere minutes ago.

As you step beneath the spray you push all the thoughts of her and everything that happened outside to the back of your mind, showering as quickly as possible, desperate to get out of the house and away from her before you make anything worse.

You dress quickly, pulling a few staple items from your closet and sliding into your boots. You run your fingers through your hair and give yourself a spray of cologne as you pocket your phone, keys and wallet. Your eyes flick over to see her bedroom door is still closed. You briefly consider knocking to let her know you’re leaving, but decide to just let things be and really drive home the point that the two of you are roommates and that's it. No matter if it pains you just a little.

You decide to get to the bar early, giving yourself time to sort out your thoughts before Sam arrives. The last thing you need is for him to catch wind of your feelings that have begun to blossom with Y/N. You throw back a shot of tequila, feeling the burn as it travels down your throat and warms your stomach. You can’t seem to shake the thought of the kiss from your mind, though. Or the feeling of her hands gripping your shirt, or the sounds she made. Fuck. You need another shot.

As the bartender slides you another, you see Sam walking through the door and you wave him down to the corner spot at the bar. 

“You started without me?” he laughs, feigning sadness.

“Couldn’t wait on you all night,” you grin, tossing back the clear liquor. 

“Tequila?” he asks, taking the empty seat next to you.

“The one and only,” you answer, nodding at the bartender as you signal for two more. “Now, why don’t you tell me about your little massage this morning, hm?”

He smiles a cheeky smile, “I wondered if she was going to tell you.”

“She mentioned it. Casually.” you say, tossing back another shot. “The fuck did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, taking his own shot, but following with a lime wedge. “Just told her your whole life story and every embarrassing fact about you.”

“Fuck you, no you didn’t,” you warn with a deeper voice. 

“No, calm down.” he says as if exhausted. “Just talked about band stuff. She never even mentioned that she was your roommate, but I will say she has magic hands.”

“Fuck off, Sam.”

“Oh, you sound a little jealous there, brother.” he taunts.

“Not jealous. I just– It’s weird. You being her client. That’s all.” you answer. 

“Mhmm.” he hums, giving you a knowing look.

Of course at that exact moment your phone lights up on the bar top, a message from ‘Girlfriend’ displaying across the screen in big bold letters. You try to grab it before Sam notices, but you’re too late as a smile spreads across his face. 

“Huh, is that right?” he taunts, elbowing your side. 

“No. it’s not what you think. I had to put her in my phone like that– Our landlord thinks–Actually I don’t have to explain this to you. It’s not like that. It’s just a lie we are telling the landlord because she is too nice to tell him otherwise.” you ramble. 

“Yeah, uh huh. Sure sounds like it's like that.” he answers, fully unbelieving of your explanation. 

You do decide to spare a glance at her text, opening it as Sam orders another drink.

Girlfriend

8:56PM: Did you leave?

You

8:59PM: Yeah, be back late.

You keep it short and sweet and as neutral as possible, when truth be told, everything in you wants to tell her that you were just out with your brother for drinks and that you would be home soon. But you felt that was too much information for two people who just shared the same house. She didn’t need to know every detail. Right?

Girlfriend

9:01: Oh, okay. I left cookies for you on the stove.

A shock shoots right through your chest. Cookies? You suddenly find yourself wanting to be home, and in her presence, completely negating every other feeling you’ve had tonight. But no. You can’t. You need to make the line clear. Roommates. That's it.

You make it a point to not think about her for the rest of the night, spending time with your brother and making conversation with anyone who came up to you tonight. Sam continues to question you about her, but you shoot him down every single time. You need him to believe it. You even go as far as to accept attention from a girl that has been eyeing you from across the bar. A leggy blonde in a tight black dress.

That seems to shut him up as the two of you share drinks and your mind becomes hazy. The night has grown later and her jokes have become funnier, a kiss is shared between the two of you and in the back of your mind you know it feels wrong. You know that her kiss doesn't even compare to the kiss you shared with Y/N just hours ago. You let her though. You let this nameless woman kiss you in the bar just to prove a point. 

Truth be told she isn’t even your type, quite the opposite actually, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Sam now fully believes you about Y/N. As Sam makes his exit from the bar, you find yourself in the back of an Uber with this woman, Claire, on your way back to your place. His lips are attached to your neck and her hands are in your hair as the Uber driver sends you judgemental looks through the rearview mirror. 

You couldn’t care less though, tipping him as he pulled up at the curb in front of your house. You fumble with the keys as she continues to kiss you, in a drunken state of her own. As the lock breaks free you both stumble inside to find the house dark. You’re both laughing as you push her down the hallway towards your bedroom. You know you’re being too loud but you don’t really care. It’s not that late is it?

“Stay here,” you say, pressing a kiss to her lips before she falls backwards onto your bed. You slip out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you as you make your way into the kitchen, the clock on the stove reading 1:04AM. Shit, maybe it is late. 

You know you’re going to need another shot if you are going to sleep with this girl. You pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and twist the lid. You bring the glass straight to your lips and take a long pull. It burns like hell, but you’re already too gone to care. You place the bottle on the counter as you run your hand over your face, unsure if you really want to proceed with Claire.

It’s on the walk back to your bedroom that you get your answer, though. Standing in her bedroom doorway, is Y/N. She’s in the tiniest little shorts and a tank top you’ve ever seen. Her eyes are tired and you can tell you’ve woken her from her sleep. You wonder how long she’s been asleep and what she did tonight, while you left her alone at the house.

“Is everything okay?” her groggy voice asks, it’s quiet and timid. You feel your heart shatter as you realize she is the one you would rather have waiting in your bed. From the moment you kissed her last night, you’ve wanted nothing more.

You don’t want to let her in on this, so you continue with your cold, short demeanor. “Yeah. All good. Great actually.”

Just then, Claire opens your bedroom door, peeking out, revealing her in just her lace bra. “You comin’ Jake?” she asks, and right then you want to disappear into thin air. Claire isn’t the girl you want to be with tonight, and the girl you do want to be with is watching everything happen a foot away from you.

Your eyes shoot to Y/N, who is looking at her before slowly looking back at you. You can tell she is feeling something, but she will never admit it. It’s a similar look to the one she had this afternoon. Right before she kissed you. Right before your wet bodies gave away your intentions with each other. When her lips kissed yours harder than they did last night. Needier and more wanting. 

You know you can’t sleep with Claire. Not when your mind is so consumed by Y/N.

Y/N quickly nods at you, and quietly closes her bedroom door, twisting the lock and retreating back to her bed. 

As if things could get any worse. 

You look to Claire, and a rush of clarity washes over you. You can end this. You can make the right choice. 

This has to stop. You can’t sleep with this girl.

You push your way back into your bedroom and close the door, Claire instantly trying to attach herself to your neck. All you can think of is Y/N and your kiss earlier, it’s as if that is all your brain can process at the moment. You gently push Claire away, shaking your head as you suddenly start to sober up, despite the whiskey traveling through your veins. You can’t use her like this. You won’t.

You shake your head as you look at a very confused and drunken Claire, “Listen, I’m sorry, Claire. We can’t do this. We aren’t in the right state of mind.” you pause, “I will call you an Uber to take you wherever you need to go.”

“You serious?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips, stepping back a bit. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say you, pulling your phone from your pocket. It takes you two minutes to order an Uber, and instantly you begin to feel better. About everything. 

“I really am sorry. I’ll let you get dressed,” you say, slipping out of your bedroom. You feel guilty for bringing her here, but you know this is for the best.

A few minutes later she joins you in the living room, her attitude drastically different than it was ten minutes ago. You feel guilty for leading her on, then shutting her down so quickly but the minute you saw Y/N you knew you were making a bad choice. 

You watch as Claire walks into the kitchen and leans up against a counter as the two of you wait for the Uber to arrive. She grabs a cookie off of the stove and that's when you remember why they are there in the first place. A heat begins to take over your body as you watch her eat the cookie that Y/N left for you. Despite being upset with you, she made and left you these cookies, and all you did is throw another woman in her face. You’ve fucked up, yet again. 

The Uber arrives and you usher her out the front door with haste, praying you never have to see her again, and in a city like this you likely never will. You lock the front door behind yourself and you head back to the kitchen, grabbing a cookie for yourself as you sit in the dark and enjoy what is probably the best chocolate chip cookie you’ve ever tasted. 

As you brush your teeth you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to figure out how you can fix this. If you can fix this. You briefly consider knocking on her door and telling her that you sent her home, but you realize it doesn’t really matter because truth be told you shouldn’t be with her either, no matter how badly you want to be. 

Once again your mind flashes back to this afternoon. All the laughs you shared and the genuine happiness you felt as you planted the tiny seeds in the garden and brought home the sad tomato plant. She has the prettiest laugh, and the best smile. You could stare at her all day. You don’t want to sleep with random women. That’s not who you are. 

You drag yourself into your bed, staring at the ceiling as you replay the kiss over and over in your mind, torturing yourself as you realize it might have been the last one. In a final act of guilt you reach for your phone, pulling it out of the pocket of your jeans and pulling up her contact. 

You

1:38AM: I’m sorry I woke you. Just thought you should know I sent her home. 

You place your phone on your nightstand, wondering if you’d done the right thing, and as your eyes shut you are surprised to hear it buzz with a response. You snatch it off the nightstand far too quickly.

Girlfriend

1:39AM: Why did you do that?

It takes you a minute to figure out the real answer to the question, and if the real answer is the one you should give her. You decide that you’re done lying to her. All it does is get you into more trouble. So, you tell the truth, unknowing of what the future would hold because of it, and praying you were making the right choice. 

You

1:41AM: Because she's not who I want. 

You

1:41AM: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

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[callme-holly]

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠

𝐚/𝐧: am i writing this for myself bc i've been kinda low? yes. yes i am.

Darry Curtis:

Darry is a little caught off guard at first, but the second he sees the pleading look in your eyes, he drops what he’s doing and pulls you close. His arms are strong and secure around you, not letting you go until you move away. He’s incredibly grounding and comforting, making you feel entirely safe.

“I’ve got you, darlin’... You can have as many hugs as you need, alright?” He mumbles into your hair, pulling you tighter as you bury your face into his chest, nodding mutely. His hand runs up and down your back, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin, grounding you just the way you need.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda won't even let you finish your request before he’s pulling you close, his expression soft and his words light. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy, and if a simple hug is all you need, he’s happy to deliver. He’ll squeeze you tightly, swaying you side to side.

“You don’t have to ask for a hug, you know?” Soda glances down at you, his arms still laced around your waist. He brushes your hair back, and you shrug. “I know…” You mumble, tucking yourself close once more. “Just needed one.”

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony looks a little surprised but is very quick to comply, opening his arms for you and wrapping you up tightly. His hugs are gentle and soothing, and they always linger for a few moments longer than usual, just so that he can ensure you’re okay.

“You okay?” he asks, not pulling away from you. Your shrug tells him everything he needs to know, and he sighs softly, his hold tightening just a little. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?” 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny’s hugs are very soft and tentative, not wanting to crowd you unless you want to be held tightly. His presence is incredibly comforting, and sometimes his quiet nature is just what you need. He’ll stay with you, just holding you for as long as you need.

“Come here…” he sighs, his arms always stretched out for you, and you don’t hesitate before stepping towards him, letting him hold onto you. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds onto you tightly, giving you just the right amount of comfort you need.

Dallas Winston:

Dally’s first instinct when he hears your question is to poke fun at you, but the moment he sees the serious look in your eyes, he softens slightly and pulls you into his lap, his arms winding around your waist. He won't say anything when you tuck yourself into him, simply holding onto you tightly, as if shielding you from the world. “You’re lucky I like you, you know that?” Dallas’ tone is light, but there’s no malice behind his words as his fingers idly card through your hair. “I got you, doll. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you.”

Steve Randle:

When you ask, Steve makes a big show of opening his arms wide, acting as if he’s waiting for this moment forever. He doesn’t press as to why you’ve asked for one or about the randomness of the request; he just lets you cling onto him for as long as you need. “Who would’ve thought you’d want a hug from little old me, huh?” he chuckles, rocking you back and forth as you hold onto him “Hush…” you whisper, peering up at him, unable to resist the smile that tugs at your lips.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is surprisingly serious about your request, keeping his teasing at a minimum. He can see how much you need it and instantly wraps you up in a hug, sitting on the couch with you and peppering your face with gentle kisses.  “Don’t be getting all sentimental on me…” he chuckles, pulling back as he presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. You can only shake your head as you hide your face once more, sighing as he pulls you close.

[achilles-rage]

Hii can I request 18) complicated sex with an ex from the smut list with buck

sorry this took a while, my mom wanted to watch the beetlejuice movies with me lol. but i'm back, and i'm gonna post a couple more before i go to bed!!

number 18 from this post: "complicated sex with an ex"

you remember the last time you saw evan.

you were both 19, and he had just told you that he was dropping out of college and running away from pennsylvania. you had been dating for almost a year, and even after you begged him to stay with you, to not leave you, he had told you that he had to.

with that, he was gone, and you hadn't seen, or heard from him, in 10 years.

until today.

you had recently moved to los angeles for work, and when your building was doing a routine fire drill, you saw the man that you were sure you'd never see again. one that had left you when you were 19 and had you questioning every relationship you've been in since.

"evan?"

your voice travels through the crowd and hits his ears, and his stomach drops.

he knows that voice. he knows it will too well. and, the last time he heard it, it was practically screaming at him, telling him that he was abandoning her, and that he didn't love her as much as she thought he did.

when his eyes meet yours, both of your expressions are the exact same; jaws slack, and the look in your eyes a mix between disbelief, joy, and a tinge of regret.

"what are you doing here?" he asks as he closes the distance between you two. he wants to reach out to you, to pull you into his arms and never let go, but he holds back. the last time you saw him, you were crying, and yelling, telling him that you hated him in the heat of the moment.

"i live here." you reply, your voice light and airy, as if you still don't believe that he's standing in front of you.

"me too." he tells you, a smile making its way onto his face as his eyes travel down your soft figure. you're still the same as 10 years ago, although you look older. he's missed your kind eyes, and you pretty smile, but he also misses your plush body, the one that he's been thinking of for years.

he's torn from his daze when he feels your palm hit his chest. it's not hard enough to hurt, especially with his gear on, and when his eyes meet yours again, he sees anger and hurt replacing the disbelief in your eyes.

"how could you?" you whisper-yell, still aware enough that you're surrounded by people.

he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, but no words come out.

those years were some of the best of his life; he got to travel the world and meet so many people, but they were also the hardest. he knew you wouldn't go with him, and he didn't want you to either. he knew how important college was to you, and he didn't want to make you decide between him and your future.

as he looks down at you, head still spinning with both disbelief and relief that you're finally back, all he can say is "do you wanna go out with me?"

"what?" you ask, brows furrowed and a slight frown on your face. this is the first time you've seen him in how long, and he's asking you out?

"please let me make it up to you. i was a fucking idiot- i still am. please let me take you out." he pleads. he knows you've never been able to say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"okay." you say with a sigh. at the very least, you’ll get the chance to tell him how he made you feel.

evan, who you've since learned goes by buck now, is still as charismatic as ever, and by the end of the night, you felt yourself, against your better judgement, forgiving him for everything.

it’s how he get you here; in his apartment, in his bed, completely bare and pinned down under him.

his thrusts are slow and deep, and you can feel his hot breath on your ear as he moans lowly into your ear. he was good at sex when you were dating, but you catch yourself thinking about how the hell he got so good since then. he’s hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and it’s making your back arch and your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy.

“fuck, i’ve missed you so much, baby.” he rasps in your ear before bringing his lips to yours, kissing you so passionately that your head spins.

all you can do is moan in response, gripping his shoulders tightly as you feel yourself clenching around him. when he parts from the kiss, he looks down into your eyes as he trails one hand down to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and rubbing lazy circles around it.

you whimper loudly, tightening your legs around his hips, and as you get dangerously close to the edge, all the doubt you had of him disappears.

he makes sure you both cum at the same time, and he holds your head in place so he can look into your eyes, groaning as he shoots his seed into your cunt. he continues his movements for a few more sloppy thrusts, letting you both ride out your highs, then kisses you deeply, savouring the feeling of you back in his bed again.

he buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both catch your breath, and as you stare up at the ceiling and listen to the steady sound of his breathing, you feel tears form in your eyes. you’ve been thinking about evan for years, and you were angry for so long, and now you feel an odd feeling between shame and relief that you’re back with him.

he left you, and you fell into his bed so quickly. all it took was one dinner and a few apologies. you remember telling yourself years ago that you’d never forgive him; that he had broken your heart and doesn’t deserve a second chance.

“woah, hey, are you okay?” you hear him ask when he finally pulls back from your neck and looks down at you. he can see the tears in your eyes, and the small frown gracing your lips, and his heart shatters.

“please don’t leave me again.” you whisper, a few tears finally falling down your cheek as you look into his eyes. you can feel your throat tighten as you fight back a sob, and you blink slowly, trying to blink away the tears threatening to follow the first few.

he sighs at your words, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. he gives you a sad smile as you lean into his touch, and then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“oh, baby. i wouldn’t dream of it.” he reassures you, and he means it. he never wants to be away from you ever again.

[definitelynotshouting]

saw this post assigning devastating quotes to each life series members, got incredibly inspired, and decided to try my own hand at it but specifically with snippets of the poetry ive personally written throughout the years :] thoughts and musings on several of my choices will be under the cut if you're interested in that sorta thing!! Enjoy<3

Bdubs: "it's all so blue. so blue, so wet, so cold, but you've got a fire in your heart like a hundred rockets. you aren't hungry, but you could eat the dead, / cut your teeth on a rotting corpse."

BigB: "SOMETHING HAS FRACTURED HERE AND IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. EACH DAY YOU WILL CHASE THE FAULT LINES LOOKING FOR A BRIDGE ONLY TO FIND IT ALREADY BURNT."

Etho: "I am above myself, hovering, pressing pale fingers into the dull bruise of yesterday to test its lingering ache. Is this all that's left?"

Gem: "what are gods if not the mothers of our own inventions. we are the avatars of violence and love and hope and fear in equal measure."

Scar: "I think I want to live. I know one day, I must die. In the cosmic wheel of fortune, I am a gamble in the making, gentle breath washing a little luck over the dice."

Grian: "Within the shape of my clawed fingers are knives: scrabbled dirt; scarlet lines; the escape route / Between a fence and / Tall grasses."

Impulse: "Life's bitter, stilted offering / Is that every person we meet / Will one day become a perfect stranger."

Martyn: "Dangerous beasts must earn / Their survival. / You are no different than a knife / In the hands of murderers."

Lizzie: "When I think of the egg-tooth, / I revel in purple glass; the lightning; the shatter; the knife-slip between / Death, and a wake."

Mumbo: "This is your life now, / Found in the cracks and crevices, scraps pried between laughter and reckless abandon."

Pearl: "I am begging, raw in the face of absolution— do not hate me. Please, keep watering me in your garden, / Despite how closely my heart resembles a weed."

Ren: "— and sometimes hearts are forged in violence /— and sometimes blood cannot form scabs / — and sometimes wounds carry half-hearted sutures / — and we are all but living fragments / —"

Skizz: "Just a little longer. Please. / There is light pooling at the bottom of the flower vase."

Scott: "I can only hope that with the rising of the dawn / I will pass through darkness and return to day, / Where I am a solar ray blinding— teeth and claws sharpened, the stretch of my skin carrying gold / Above the dull, dug out earth"

Joel: "Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; / Yes, there is a loss."

Jimmy: "for year after bloody year, i clung to life with aching fingernails, grasped at every straw, took every scrap of double-barrelled hope and shot myself in the chest with it."

Tango: "every time you claw yourself from the ashes you insist it will never happen again. every time you reach the breaking point, it happens a little bit faster."

Cleo: "It's about catharsis, not letting go. / Because a part of me wants to hold this, / A swelling hurt deeper than tides, / Hotter than stars. The kind of rage / A mother might raise against her own child."

I dont share my poetry on here very often, partially because it tends to end up coming from a very personal part of me, but since this was actually a lot of fun maybe i'll start posting my poems more often here :]] i think what i found most interesting about this exercise was that as i scrolled my notes app and cherry-picked quotes for each character, it felt like the ones i chose naturally became part of a larger conversation-- as if the characters were speaking to me through my own words about their lowest points, about their ultimate views on the games filtered through the lens of a red life.

It felt enlightening; i dont often feel like im speaking to characters or being informed about their plots/preferences, etc. the way many other writers discuss in workshops or casually online, but by the end of this exercise i felt like i just... understood them, better than i had before. There's something inexplicable about reading your own words and consciously finding ways to apply them in a way that encapsulates them down to a character's core that just... truly highlights the specific qualities that resonate most with you. And i think stumbling upon that organically was a very vivid and incredible experience for me

Admittedly, i did struggle on Scott, Ren, and Etho a lot-- im not as familiar with them as characters, and for a while i couldn't quite pinpoint what exact themes they tend to carry with them throughout all their life seasons. But when i started to really look at everyone's quotes as a whole, i realized they felt like a story, like the response to a question-- as if i was being TOLD what they felt and how, and that that was how i needed to frame the rest of my selections. So Scott's ended up being about control, and the desperate hanging onto of it; Ren's is about the acceptance and bitterness of what he cannot change; Etho's is a quiet resignation rounded out with softer disbelief. The more i looked at these choices, the more they felt correct to me-- and while i still think i have a ways to go before i fully understand these characters, i feel like this has helped me a lot with that ultimate goal :]

Of all these poetry snippets, though, i think Scar, Skizz, and Joel's are my absolute favorites. Skizz's poem is actually the whole poem in its entirety (as is Cleo's, funnily enough)-- it's a short, very simple poem that is incredibly close to my heart for many reasons, but the main one being because it was written at one of my lowest points a few years back. Its about clawing for hope when there isnt any, and finding even the smallest of beautiful things to hold onto, and begging yourself to keep holding onto that at any cost. The pure, clean beauty of watching light refract through a vase of flowers, and knowing that sometimes, that's all there is to live for-- I felt like that really spoke to Skizz's life series character as a whole: finding the beauty in every tiny thing, no matter how small, and scrabbling for more time to appreciate it.

Scar's snippet comes from a much longer poem of mine about the difficulty of reconciling the idea of a future when you havent had to think of one before (incidentally, Etho's snippet comes from this poem as well). I think out of everyone, this quote encapsulates him the best; i like how it subtly references that inner well of vivacity he draws from that many other characters struggle to find, and how that in turn ties in with the lore that he never died a final death during Secret Life. And i love how it simultaneously manages to encompass the way he utilizes the social game in each season as well-- Scar's an incredibly intelligent social player, and i think the imagery of a gambler breathing their luck over the dice as they cast it, and as he casts himself at others for alliances and enemies, truly does fit him.

As for Joel, the full poem his quote comes from is one im particularly proud of, especially for its final lines. I think, quite honestly, i can let this poem stand for itself in its entirety:

They say transformation is letting the light in, But in my mind it's a violence. A coarseness, a fracturing, the bloody vowels between a scream And a howl. How do you transform without killing yourself? When I am a lion, my hands and feet Grow claws; my teeth sharpen. No longer do I spark— I ignite. Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; Yes, there is a loss. To transform is to leave behind a body And eat its still-breathing corpse.

I find myself referencing this poem a lot even in my daily life-- as longterm readers of mine already know, one of my favorite themes is that of replacing yourself and permanent transformation. This poem really is just about how changing, in any shape or form, alters you forever; how you can look back on yourself from even just a few months ago and feel like a completely different person despite remaining the same. Connecting it with Joel's character, and how he acts during his red lives in each season, was a natural and intuitive progression once i really sat and thought about it.

Alright thats enough yapping from me 😂😂😂 im not used to writing meta nor delving into my poetry on here, so this was a bit of an experimental post for me. If youve read up until this point, i both applaud your patience and really hope you enjoyed this window into my personal works and thoughts on them :]] cheers, and thanks to @/chipperchemical the op of the original post for inspiring me!!!❤️❤️❤️

[thomaslittlegirl]

hello love! i hope you are doing very well:) i just read some of your first and they were so cute! unfortunately i have been in the mood for SOME ANGST lol! would you potentially be able to write a fic where something happened to reader and she got hurt (level of severity is up to you) and like tommy is obviously freaking out over it. idk what's wrong with me but i love angst 😔 if you don't feel comfortable i totally understand and have a wonderful day:)

thank you for your sweet words! 🩷 i wrote this in half an hour, so i hope it's at least not that horrible? hope you like it.

sickness. thomas shelby

warnings; angst. thomas blames himself, as always.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thomas can't help but feel suffocated seeing you like this. it seems that the walls begin to close and collapse on top of him, preventing him from breathing.

your figure lies on the bed, wrapped in the neat white sheets while your body does not stop shaking violently.

it hurts him to see you this way. hurts because there is no one to blame for your discomfort, no one to blame for your suffering. all he can do is watch yourself in silence and wait for this to pass quickly.

thomas looks at you pitifully as he swallows hard.

the sound of the maid's heels echoing across the wooden floor makes him put on guard. the woman comes almost stumbling, with a tray in her arms. "here it is, sir." she says, in a low voice.

she goes into the room y/n and thomas both share and leaves the plates on the desk.

"thank you, frances." he replies. "i want you to be attentive to any call that me or my girl makes." maid nods and leaves the room, closing the door after her. the annoying sound of heels moving away.

thomas walks over to the bed, squatting down next to you. "doll..." he calls, stroking your hair.

a whimper escapes your mouth and thomas licks his lips, watching you intently; you are pale, your lips cracked.

"what?" you ask in a whisper.

"frances brought you soup." he informs, continuing the caresses on your head. "i want you to eat some."

"im not hungry."

"just a little. try it... it'll warm you up a little." he tries to persuade in vain. you shake your head; thomas stare at the dark circles in your eyes.

shelby look at how your body shakes. it doesn't matter how many sheets you have around you, the spasms don't stop.

his head is a torment, thousands of good-for-nothing thoughts flooding his brain. he collects all the bad omens he knows, like black cats and broken mirrors... everything that could have happened for you to reach this moment.

thomas can't help but think and blame himself. it is not the first time this has happened, it is not the first time that his bad luck and his destiny bring him to this point.

he can't lose you, not you. not again... not when he is thorough when giving you gifts, not when he makes sure to protect you with his life.

why does everything he loves come to this point? does everything he touches have to slowly fade away?

he doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your thin fingers wipe the corners of his eyes, brushing the tears away from his face.

"i'll get better." you try to calm him down, he's not so sure.

he knows the multiple opinions of all the doctors he brought to check you, all of them giving a different diagnosis but none of them making you feel better... everything you can possibly have.

"you promise...?" he asks, looking at your tired face.

"i..." nothing. "just hold me, please." you ask in return, running back a little to make room for him on the bed next to you.

thomas crawls under the sheets with you and wraps you in his arms, holding you close to his chest.

as if love could save.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well :)

Could I have cuddling HCs with candy, night terrors and LJ? Ty in advance!

I love writing fluff like this, I hope you enjoy <3 Me casually making new LJ lore while writing this :p

Terrors:

It's rough in the beginning, I'm gonna be honest. You are this man's first for everything because when he was living on his own, his own person, his own ruler, he did not care about relationships at all, so he doesn't really understand anything except the barebones basics. The first time you ask him if it'll be okay to cuddle, he tries to think back on how Candy cuddles you (which he can barely remember because he feels embarrassed just watching you guys from inside Candy's mind), and he says that if that's what you wish, you may cuddle him. You've come very far in your relationship with Candy and Terrors at this point, so you naively assume this should go easily, but your assumptions are soon proven wrong. Terrors lays down first, on his back stiff as a board, and waits for you to join him, and you do, curling into his side, but he never moves. He stays that way for a while, to your amusement, and it takes many, many snuggle sessions for him to loosen up. Once he does, gradually wrapping an arm around you, and then two, and then holding you close to him, cuddles with Terrors become much clingier. They're firm but incredibly warm and protective. He prefers to keep you flush and tight against his chest, his arms trapping you there securely, only letting you go when you ask. He always feels he still might be doing something wrong, so he's still a little tense, but he can't deny that feeling your warmth so softly against him is a treasure he wished he'd been indulging in with you for far longer, and these days he's more than willing to cuddle you if you ever ask for it. He gets to the point that he wants to ask you himself, but he's too shy, so he tends to hover around you in a way you come to learn means he wants to snuggle you immediately.

Candy:

Candy's cuddles are nothing to sneeze at. This man is clingy in the best ways, incredibly warm, and all-encompassing as a lover, so of course he gives some of the best cuddles you'll ever indulge in, and he's pretty much always in the mood to cuddle up to you, so you're never starved for his touch. While he's quite brazen and forceful as a person, he's nearly the opposite when you first start cuddling with him at the start of your relationship until he learns what you like. He's all soft smiles and gentle words, wanting to go at your pace to not overwhelm you with his large body and stronger touches. He lets you worm your way into his arms however you'd like to, and once you do the same thing enough times, he learns what you enjoy, and always settles into the right position, readily scooping you into his arms and nuzzling into you to his heart's content. I think Candy prefers to pretty much absorb you into his body with his preferred cuddles. He likes you snug against his chest, his arms around you, your legs intertwined, his torso covering yours as he leans over you so he can cover you with his body. It makes him happy to be able to cover you and hold you so closely, so confined in his body that you've got no choice but to be completely smooshed against him. The type of partner to say they want you inside of their body when you're cuddling so you can just become one being. He tends to surprise you with snuggles when you've been together longer, as he definitely recharges from your touch and just wants to have contact with you all the time, and he's so warm and soft that you can't help but want to constantly be snuggling him yourself, so you tend to never refuse him. Candy is always happiest when he has you wrapped up in his arms.

LJ:

Another resident snuggle bug like Candy, Jack is always down for snuggles, and he's not shy about asking for them either. He's the type to just lift you up and take you away from whatever you were previously doing so he can just carry you off to bed and cuddle you whenever he gets particularly lonely. The only thing that might seem like a drawback about Jack I would say is that due to his mechanical nature, he doesn't have body warmth, so he tends to start off cold in your cuddles. During the summer it's awesome because he can cool you off from the heat outside, but not as pleasant at times like right now, during the colder winter months. However, as the executive owner of this blog and canon, I've come up with a situation; I think since he was originally made for children, that he probably has an internal heater (like a heated blanket situation) to warm up and be more pleasant to be in contact with. Meaning, that Jack can heat up his body to whatever temperature you want, which I suppose actually gives him a lead over others if he has time to heat up! So, when it's really cold, he starts heating himself up in advance, so when you get home he's already warm and ready to go, ridding you of any biting cold you had outside. His preferred cuddles I often write him with are you laying on top of him, his arms wrapped snug around you, your face snuggling into his neck. He likes feeling the weight of your body on top of him, as it makes him feel content and loved, knowing he's got you right here, safe and sound in his arms. I haven't mentioned it in a while, but Jack is able to make a calming purring sound when he's happy, and you can bet your butt he's constantly making that noise when you cuddle, calming both of you down and relaxing you.

[aneurins-barnard]

Paring - Richard III x Anne Neville Warnings - T Suggestive, No Actual Smut, Fluff, Edouard of Lancaster is a warning even if he's only mentioned, Richard also calls him a bastard but you can bet he's thinking of more.... colourful language Word Count - 1,516 A/N - I do not know what this is, I just needed to get it out. Anyway, a load of fluff. I think it's needed. This fic has not been beta read. It is fluff. Mild, as in the most mildest mild, smut. I cannot express enough how mild it is.

It had only been a day since Anne had finally married her Richard in a quiet, private ceremony at the church of Saint Martin le Grande. A day since he called her “wife” and kissed her softly but chastely in front of the priest.

A day since he had taken her to bed and shown her what pleasures could be found in the marital chambers. Pleasures that Edouard of Lancaster had taken a sick joy in denying her.

Anne had not realised Richard expected her in his chambers that evening. She had departed dinner early wishing to retire after a long day of having her belongings moved to the Palace and packed ready for their journey north. Richard had summoned a maid to escort her as his brother, Edward, called him over to talk.

Anne walked into these chambers, instantly seeing traces of Richard all over. Carved boars, his personal device, adorned the fireplace mantel and bed posts. On the bed spread was an embroidered white boar and the white rose of York. Briefly she wondered who had done such fine work. His desk was littered with scraps of paper and books. So many books and ledgers. 

“My lady?” So distracted as Anne was, she had quite forgotten the maid that had brought her here. “Shall I help you into your nightgown, my lady?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

She turned, allowing the maid to begin undoing the laces of her dress.

As the heavy green velvet fell to the floor, Anne spared a glance at the bed.

Richard’s bed.

It was neatly made, the covers smooth. A servant must have changed the sheets earlier in the day. Had Richard planned for this? For her to come to bed with him tonight?

Anne had not realised that Richard intended to claim his marital rights again. What other reason could he have to have her brought here. He had been so tender and caring the night before. Sweet and gentle. Sure he knew, though, that she may want a little time before they made love again? Did I not say something?

Made love . That’s what he called it. And it had certainly felt that way. His gentle tender touches. The way he had gazed up at her like she was an angel sent from heaven. His hand in hers, the other guiding her hips to move. She had brought herself down to kiss him, and he had tangled that hand in her loose hair. Kissed her neck and murmur soft praises in her ear.

He held her close to his body as she peaked, still whispering his sweet nothings in her ear, calling her “my love,” and “sweetheart.” He held her again in his arms, stroking her hair until she fell asleep, and then when she woke, she was still in his arms, head pillowed on his chest.

A knock at the door snapped Anne out of her reverie. Her maid had already finished helping into her nightgown, and went to open the door. The brief glimpse told Anne that it was not Richard, so she went over to the vanity to begin unbraiding her hair. 

“My lady,” the maid said, reappearing behind her. “A missive from your Lord husband, my lady.”

Anne took the small parchment. “Shall I unbraid your hair, my lady?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

The maid began unbraiding and brushing Anne’s hair and she opened the note and read:

My dear beloved Anne, my brother, the King, has decided to call me to his solar so we may drink and talk of the wonders and perils of marriage. I suppose he thinks as my older brother it is his duty to do so, although I can assure, I have been well introduced to marriage’s wonders, and well prepared for its perils, having watched him and the Queen, and others. I should be back soon ma belle . I love you, my most beloved consort, your Richard

Soon. He would be back soon.

Soon turned out to be a while indeed. The maid finished brushing her hair and left, and Anne climbed into the bed, drawing the curtains around herself. She tucked the sheets up to her chin and closed her eyes wishing for sleep to come.

But it would not, and the door opened, and she heard his deep voice murmuring orders before it shut again.

The sound of rustling and dropping of clothes seemed loud in her ears. Anne closed her eyes tight, hoping to at least appear asleep, even as her mind raced.

Richard approached the bed and parted the curtains. Anne tried to relax again, and he chuckled, at what, she did not know.

Was she perhaps on the wrong side of the bed? Did she have dirt on her face? Her hair, was it knotted, even with all the brushing?

He let the curtain fall again, casting a brief breeze across her face. He walked to the other side. The mattress dipped as he climbed in, and Anne flinched at the cool night air that hit her back when he lifted the blankets.

She felt Richard shuffle closer to her, until her back was pressed against his bare chest.

“I know you’re awake, ma belle ,” he whispered, pressing a few soft kisses on her neck.

Anne sighed tiredly and rolled over to face him. She opened her eyes to him propped up on one arm and smiling at her. She smiled back and angled her head so he could keep kissing her neck. That is what he wanted, right?

But he didn’t return to her neck. She glanced at him, staring at her with his head tilted in amusement. He cupped her cheek with his free hand and bent down to kiss her lips, softly and sweetly.

Then he rolled on his back an tugged Anne to his chest. 

“Richard?” Anne said, puzzled.

“Hmm?”

“Are you not — are we not going to…?”

“Make love?” he finished. Anne smothered a giggle in his chest. She suspected she’d never get used to this. He chuckled too in turn, the movement bouncing her gently. “You can say it, ma belle . We are married, and married people make love ,” he said sensously, bringing her up to kiss him again, deeper this time. When he released her lips, he still held her face in his palm. “You are tired,” he explained. “So am I. I spent all day arguing with George about the Beauchamp estates.”

“But –” she stuttered, “but you had me brought to your champers, and I though–”

“That I wanted to ‘claim my marital rights’ like you told that- that bastard of Lancaster did?”

Anne flinched at his harsh words, tears pooling in her eyes. Edouard was dead . His ghost should not haunt her now.

“Anne?” His voice was gentle now. “Anne, I’m so sorry, I did not mean to speak so harshly. I only meant that I am not like him. I love you-”

“Oh Richard,” - she looked back up at him - “I am the one who should be sory. I should not assume these things. You’re right. It was only that you came to my bed and I thought-” she stopped at he started chuckling again. “What is it?” she said indignantly. They were speaking of serious matters, and he dared to laugh? “What is funny, Richard?”

He cupped her cheek again. “It is my bed, ma belle ,” he said, “and I enjoy having you in it.”

“But I though-” 

“That we would have separate rooms?” She nodded. “No, I liked having you here last night. The last thing I saw before I slept, and the first when I woke. I wish to hold you in my arms at night, to keep you warm and safe. And,” – his face turned serious – “I did not think it wise to leave you alone at night here. Especially not with how vehemently George has opposed out marriage.” Anne nodded understanding. “I feel safer knowing you’re in my arms, and that no-one will try to take you from me.”

“I should have asked you earlier, about our sleeping arrangements.”

Anne smiled, nodding in agreement.

“So, would you, my wife,” – she giggled, knowing what he was doing now – “like to share my bed with me every night of our marriage whether we make love or not?”

“Just to hold each other?

“Just to hold each other.”

Anne fiegned thought for a moment. If last night was any indication, she would not be against being held. In fact, she rather liked it.

“Yes,” she nodded, “on one condition.”

Richard leaned closer. 

“It is our bed now.”

He laughed, his grin lighting up his whole face. Anne swore to herself there that she would make him laugh like this again as often as she could.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Is it our bed now?” 

She giggled as he sat up to kiss her.

He fell back to the bed again pulling her with him.

“Good night, sweet Anne.”

“Good night, husband.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and began stroking her hair.

It did not take her long to fall asleep.

[bunnyinvanilla]

when sugar daddy!john price finds out about the stray dog you’ve taken in while he’s been on deployment… pt. 2

you cradle the dog against your chest as you look up at john, who now has two, not one, pair of puppy eyes to melt at.

but he’s fuming, bulk arms crossed together and bearded jaw clenched, a crinkle appearing between his eyes, an evident expression of anger that you’re not used to.

“what is that?” his voice is a low, deep rumble that sends chills down your spine, and you find yourself only staring at him, lips glued together — he’s never gotten mad at you before, or angry, you always followed all the rules, slipping out a soft ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes daddy’ and doing as you were told, as if you had been handcrafted by cherubs and sent to earth to be his personal good girl.

he’s warned you about not taking a stray dog many times, and Oreo himself can feel the heavy emotion lingering in the air, how that big, tall man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“Oreo..” you mumble quietly, looking up at him from where you’re kneeling on the floor. “he’s a border collie and he’s..he’s five months”

could you believe that.

“who’s gonna take care of him?” his gives you single worded questions, his grumpy, strict captain personality draped over him like a cape.

“I am, sir” you try to make him more reasonable, giving him your own puppy dog eyes, your knees scraping against the carpet underneath them as you hug the tiny, black and white creature.

“doll, you need me to take care of yourself, how are you going to take care of a dog?”

“but he’s good, daddy, I promise, he doesn’t make any mess, he just needs love and affection, that’s all” you look at the dog, who’s studying john with a curious gaze, tail moving slowly and attentively.

“he was all alone on the street, with no collar, whining, I couldn’t leave him there hungry and sad :( and I was also alone, we kept each other company while you were away,”

you speak with such a tenderness it is very hard for john to remain serious and mad at you, so he just closes his eyes, pinching his nose.

“come on daddy, you said you also have a dog at the base, why can’t we have one?”

“Riley doesn’t sleep on my bed, angel, he has other people to take care of him, do you even understand how hard it is to raise a damn dog?” his voice grows deeper, rougher, darting his hardened eyes between you, kneeling so cutely in front of him and that damn dog, whom you’ve named after a cookie.

but of course you couldn’t just let him come back to his house with hundreds of more books, you also had to welcome him with a dirty whelp

Oreo whines towards John, his tail wagging shakily, wondering why that new hooman hasn’t pet him yet.

“you said you wanted us to have a son, we have one now :(“

“fuckin’ earth sweetheart that’s not what I meant,” he sighs, bending over and picking the dog up with only one arm — you watch as he lifts him up on the air, scrutinizing him with a doubtful look, his paws are clean, he doesn’t stink.

“you’re just fuckin’ lucky i love her,” he mutters to Oreo, who only gives him a high pitched bark in response. “he’s not sleeping on the bed, he’s not allowed near my boots, and if he drools all over my paperwork, im sending him right on the field”

guess you are both parents, now :)