#i just think it's so much more fun for everyone to approach it like that yk

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 2

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 12.8k

A/N: Whewww. This was a little fun but also a little stressful to write. It’s a little different from what I’ve done. I feel like I wanna make this a few more parts lowkey🫣. Please let me know what you think and leave live reacts if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼 Also I rushed a little so let me know if I made mistakes lol

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3rd Person POV - Thursday

The energy in the gym was steady, the familiar rhythm of shootaround settling everyone into their pregame routines. UConn’s team moved through drills under CD’s watchful eye, the absence of Geno noted but not dwelled upon much. It wasn’t unusual for him to step away, and CD kept everything running just as smoothly in his place.

Azzi focused on her shots, the repetition grounding her as she moved from mid-range to three-point territory. The sound of sneakers squeaking and basketballs bouncing filled the air, teammates calling out to each other as they cycled through drills. It felt like any other game day prep. The energy was great, everyone was excited. Then Geno walked in.

Azzi’s eyes flicked toward the entrance automatically, expecting to see him stride in alone. Instead, he wasn’t alone.

Paige was with him.

Azzi paused mid-shot, the ball bouncing off the rim as her brows pulled together. Across the court, Geno and Paige spoke casually, their body language familiar. They weren’t just exchanging pleasantries—this was a conversation that carried a purpose.

Next to her, KK caught the shift in Azzi’s focus and followed her gaze.

"Why is Paige Bueckers here?" KK asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Azzi turned her head slightly. "You know her?"

KK gave her a look like the question was ridiculous. "You don't?"

Azzi’s expression remained blank.

KK scoffed. "Girl, boo. I forgot you don’t ever watch the sport we play.” She shook her head before continuing. “Paige was one of the top players in the country in high school. From Minnesota. She could’ve gone anywhere she wanted. UConn wanted her bad—but then she kinda just… disappeared. Didn’t commit anywhere on signing day.”

Azzi’s gaze was still locked on the other side of the court, where Geno and Paige had now settled onto the bench chairs, talking still. Paige was nodding at something Geno said as she stared ahead, seemingly just looking at the opposite wall.

Azzi shifted on her feet, arms crossing slightly. “And now she’s here. With Geno.”

"Right," KK echoed, before smirking. “Maybe she’s your competition.”

Azzi didn’t look away from Paige as she said, “If anything, she’s your competition.”

KK turned to her, eyebrows raising high at the comment. “What are you talking about?”

Azzi finally glanced at her. “She’s a point guard.”

KK gave her a look, silently asking how she knew that.

Azzi just shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips, as if she was saying, Don’t worry about it.

KK scoffed but didn’t press further, turning back to the drill as their turn approached. Azzi followed suit, refocusing on her shot, but the energy in the gym had shifted.

The rest of the team, while going through the motions, kept stealing glances toward the other side of the court. Even CD, usually unshakable in her focus, seemed slightly aware of the presence of Geno and Paige, though she didn’t acknowledge it outright.

Azzi stole one last glance toward the two of them. Paige was leaning forward slightly now, elbows resting on her knees, nodding along to whatever Geno was saying. There was something about her demeanor—poised but entirely at ease—that kept Azzi’s attention longer than she intended.

“Yo, Azzi pay attention,” Ice called, bouncing the ball toward her.

Azzi caught it smoothly, exhaling through her nose. “Yeah, yeah.”

Once shoot-around was over and CD finished speaking with the girls Geno walked toward them with his usual commanding presence, but this time, all eyes were drawn to the taller figure trailing just behind him. Paige moved with an easy confidence, hands tucked into the pockets of her sweats, her expression unreadable as she just stared ahead at nothing in particular.

Azzi barely registered the murmurs spreading through the team when her eyes locked onto Paige’s. And for the first time since their conversations, Paige didn’t wear that usual smirk. Instead, there was something quieter, more measured, in the way she held her gaze. Azzi could practically see the questions flying through her own mind reflected back at Paige—What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say anything?

The confusion hung in the air until Geno cut straight through it. “Paige is here unofficially on a visit,” he announced, his tone gruff, leaving little room for argument. “She’s just here watching the game today since we can’t do anything official with her during the season.”

A ripple of uncertainty moved through the team. Visits happened, sure—but not like this. Not during the middle of the season. And definitely not for someone with the kind of presence Paige had just walking into the gym.

The silence stretched before Nika finally spoke up, respectful but with a tinge of frustration. “Coach, we already have a point guard for next season.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered back to Paige just in time to see her take a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as if she had already braced herself for this exact reaction. She didn’t look surprised though. God Azzi hated how stoic she could be, she can never get a good read on her.

The tension in the gym thickened slightly as Nika’s words settled. Some of their glances jumping between Nika and KK. Paige stayed composed, her expression not changing much, but Azzi noticed the way her fingers twitched slightly in her pockets, as if resisting the urge to react or say something.

Geno didn’t miss a beat in his response. “Nika’s leaving after this season,” he stated plainly, his tone making it clear this wasn’t about to be a conversation up for debate. “We need an older guard to help guide KK next season because she isn’t where we need her to be just yet.

Azzi’s eyes immediately flickered to Nika, whose jaw tensed at the comment. She didn’t say anything—didn’t need to—but the slight shift in her stance spoke volumes. She prided herself on being KK’s mentor, on leading the backcourt the best she could. The idea that Geno thought they needed someone else didn’t sit right with her.

But before anyone could voice anything further, Geno sighed, sensing the weight in the room. “Look, nothing is official,” he added, glancing around. “South Carolina, LSU, USC, Minnesota, and a few others all want her to visit, too. They all jumped at the chance once they heard she was transferring.”

That got a reaction. Some players exchanged looks, while others side-eyed Paige, as if reassessing her entirely. It wasn’t just UConn she was considering—it was powerhouse programs across the country.

Paige, for her part, remained unreadable, her expression neutral as she took the reaction in stride. Her not saying a word the entire time only fueled people’s confusion. But Azzi wasn’t confused. She actually found it kind of funny that Paige had this whole silent thing going on. There was something deliberate about the way Paige stood there, hands still in her pockets, gaze steady.

Geno had a small grin as he glanced at Paige before turning his attention back to the team and let out a clap. “We’ll talk more later,” he said simply. “For now, go do what you need to do.”

Despite the dismissal, the tension lingered. Eyes darted between Paige and Geno, and then toward Azzi, as if searching for some kind of answer from their leader.

Paige, still unreadable, finally exhaled through her nose before offering the team a small smile.

The team started dispersing, but the tension still lingered in the air.

Behind them, Nika scoffed under her breath. “We don’t even know if she’s as good as she used to be,” she muttered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear.

Azzi’s head snapped in her direction, her eyes sharp as she simply said, “Nika.”

It wasn’t loud, but the weight behind it was enough. A quiet warning. A reminder of how they were supposed to carry themselves.

Nika’s jaw tightened, and for a second, it looked like she might push back. But then, she exhaled through her nose, muttering a half-hearted, “Sorry,” before turning and heading toward the locker room.

Azzi watched her go before glancing toward Paige again. If she had heard, she didn’t show it. Her hands were still tucked in her pockets, her posture still easy, but there was something in her eyes—something flickering beneath the surface as she looked around the gym.

Azzi wasn’t sure why, but she felt the need to say something. Instead, she just pressed her lips together and turned back toward the court.

Azzi felt Paige’s gaze linger on her, but she didn’t turn back. She could still feel the weight of it, like Paige was trying to piece something together—trying to figure her out the same way Azzi had been doing since the moment she sat next to her on the plane.

Paige didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. There was a moment, brief but charged as they made eye contact again before Geno clapped a hand on her back, breaking the silence. Without hesitation, Paige stuffed her hands back into her pockets and followed him, her steps unhurried as they made their way toward the tunnel.

Azzi finally let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She wasn’t sure what had just passed between them.

After shooting around a little more Azzi sat alone in the locker room, earbuds in, her mind wasn’t really on the upcoming game. The energy with the team had been a little off ever since Paige showed up, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting in a way she didn’t quite understand yet.

She barely noticed when the door to the locker room opened, only looking up when Geno took a seat in the empty locker next to hers.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before pulling out her earbuds. “What’s up, Coach?”

Geno didn’t waste time. “I need you to make her feel comfortable on this visit.”

Azzi blinked, sitting up a little straighter. She gave him a nod, but Geno could tell she wasn’t fully processing what he was saying.

So he continued. “Look, Azzi. You came here to win a championship right?…We’ve come up short, and I know injuries and everything else have played a part in that. But I think Paige is the piece we need.”

Azzi stayed quiet, her expression unreadable.

“And Lord knows,” Geno added with a gruff sigh, “if one of those other schools gets her, it’s gonna be hell come March for us next season.”

Azzi chewed the inside of her cheek, finally breaking eye contact. She knew he was right. She’d seen how close they’d come before, only to fall short. And she wasn’t interested in going through that again.

Still, she wasn’t oblivious. She knew this wouldn’t go over smoothly with the whole team.

Geno, as if reading her mind, continued, “Some feelings are gonna be hurt. Someone will probably get pushed to the bench. That’s just how this works. But if you want to win.”

Azzi took a deep breath before nodding again, this time with more certainty. “I got it, don't worry about it.”

Geno studied her for a second, making sure the words actually sank in. She met his gaze, and there was something there—understanding, maybe even acceptance.

“I mean it,” he said, his tone softening to the best of his abilities. “She’s been through a lot, and this isn’t exactly an easy situation for her either.”

Azzi exhaled, rolling her shoulders before leaning back against the locker. “I got it, Coach.”

Geno gave a small nod and stood up, but before he left, he paused. “And Azzi?”

She looked up.

“You’re a leader on this team. People follow your lead more than you realize. If you’re welcoming, they’ll follow.”

Azzi let that sit for a second before nodding again.

Geno didn’t say anything else. He just patted her shoulder before walking out, leaving Azzi alone with her thoughts.

Some time later a few players were scattered around the court, lounging around and talking to one another as they passed the time before tip-off. Azzi sat near the baseline, stretching absentmindedly, when her eyes landed on Paige.

Paige had just settled behind the team’s bench, scrolling through her phone, seemingly completely unbothered by the noise around her. She looked comfortable, her posture relaxed, legs spread open as her fingers idly flicked at the screen.

Azzi watched for a moment before making a decision. Pushing herself up, she made her way toward Paige, hands tucked into the pockets of her warmups. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to talk to her again. Maybe it was because of what Geno had said earlier. Maybe it was simply because Paige intrigued her.

Whatever it was, Paige must have noticed her approaching because she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket before looking up. She smirked slightly.

“Paige Bueckers, huh?” Azzi said, settling into the seat next to her.

Paige’s smirk grew. “So you know my last name now.”

Azzi shrugged. “You could’ve just told me.”

Paige let out a small chuckle. “Your coach didn’t want me to. And where’s the fun in that?”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t push it. Instead, she leaned back, her tone turning casual. “So, Minnesota, huh?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re leading with?”

Azzi shrugged again. “Just putting the pieces together. KK told me you were one of the top players in the country.”

Paige hummed. “She say anything else?”

Azzi smiled a little. “She said you fell off the face of the earth.”

Paige chuckled, nodding slowly. “I guess that’s not entirely wrong in a sense.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking again. “So, why now? Why transfer?”

Paige exhaled, glancing down at her hands before looking back at Azzi. “I just… needed a change. And your coach thinks UConn might be the right fit.”

Azzi didn’t push for more. Instead, she shifted slightly, her voice lighter. “You know, some of the girls aren’t too happy about it.”

Paige smirked. “Yeah, I picked up on that. He warned me though.”

Azzi gave her a look. “You don’t seem too worried.”

Paige leaned back, mirroring Azzi’s posture. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Azzi couldn’t help but grin at that. “Cocky.”

Paige’s smirk deepened. “Confident.”

Azzi shook her head but didn’t argue. Instead, she glanced toward the court, watching some of teammates mess around before looking back at Paige. “You’re gonna have to prove yourself, you know.”

Paige met her gaze, something unreadable in her expression. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Azzi held her stare for a moment longer before nodding in approval. “Good.”

Just as she was about to stand, something clicked in her mind. “Wait,” she said, tilting her head. “Didn’t you say you’ve always been a South Carolina fan?”

Paige chuckled, seemingly amused that Azzi remembered. “I did.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “So, are they in the lead?”

Paige hummed, leaning back in her seat. “I wouldn’t say so.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why not?”

Paige shrugged. “Probably won’t be the best fit for me.”

Azzi crossed her arms, intrigued. “But UConn is?”

Paige, still a woman of few words, simply smirked. “Guess we’ll see today.”

Azzi chuckled at that, shaking her head. “The pressure’s on now.”

Paige lifted an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. “I didn’t know you needed to make a good impression.”

Azzi met her gaze, her smirk matching Paige’s. “I don’t.”

Paige held her stare for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “Touché.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back slightly in her seat. “So, what I’m basically hearing is… UConn has the lead?”

Paige exhaled a small laugh, tilting her head. “I never said that.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Didn’t deny it either.”

Paige shook her head, amusement filling her eyes. “I think you just like hearing what you want.”

Azzi grinned. “Maybe. But I’m just good at reading between the lines.”

Paige hummed, as if considering that before saying. “Or you just like making assumptions.”

Azzi gave a casual shrug. “Only when I think I’m right.”

Paige scoffed playfully, but before she could fire back, Aaliyah’s voice rang out from the court.

“Azzi! Come here for a sec!”

Azzi exhaled through her nose before standing, shooting Paige one last smile. “I’ll find you after the game.”

Paige met her gaze. “Don’t lose.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as she started walking backward toward the court. “Not an option now apparently.”

Paige simply smiled, watching her go.

…

The game was everything UConn had hoped for. From the moment the ball tipped, Azzi was on fire, playing with a confidence that had been building all season. Notre Dame threw everything they could at her, doubling her, trying to trap her at every turn—but Azzi was always one step ahead. She made the right pass every time, finding the open player, setting up easy shots. The crowd at Gampel Pavilion was electric as they watched it unfold.

Azzi’s movement on the court was effortless, weaving between defenders with a fluidity that made it look like the game was moving in slow motion for her. She was every bit the player UConn had hoped she would be when they recruited her, and more. The more Notre Dame scrambled to contain her, the easier it seemed for UConn to build momentum.

Paige, perched behind the team’s bench, watched intently. Her expression remained calm, the competitive fire inside her barely visible. She was invested in every play, every pass, but she kept her reactions minimal, only letting a subtle smile flicker across her face when Azzi nailed yet another perfect assist or hit an impossible shot.

The contrast between the intensity of Azzi on the court and Paige's quiet focus off it. Azzi was in her element, dominating, and Paige was soaking it all in, her quiet appreciation almost as loud as the roars from the crowd. She wasn’t cheering, she wasn’t jumping out of her seat like everyone else, but her eyes—watching Azzi—told a different story. As she watched though, there was no doubt in her mind that UConn needed another leader. Needed a point guard. Bad. If Azzi wasn’t in the game the ball was stagnant, and the offense was choppy. Paige could tell Geno saw it too because within a minute or two he was always pushing Azzi back to the scorers table to check in.

When the buzzer sounded, securing UConn’s win, the crowd erupted into cheers. Azzi’s performance had stolen the show, and as she jogged off the court, a smile tugged at her lips.

After an on court interview Azzi walked over to Paige, her usual confidence still evident, but there was a slight hint of curiosity in her voice as she leaned in. “So?” she asked, arms casually crossed as she leaned against one of the chairs.

Paige glanced up at her, offering a playful chuckle. “You were good.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for more than just a simple acknowledgment. “Good?”

Paige nodded, her smile never quite leaving her face. “Good.”

Azzi, sensing she wasn’t going to get much more than that, gave a small laugh. She leaned back a little, changing gears. “Alright then. You should come out with us tonight to celebrate.”

Paige hesitated. “That’s not really my scene,” she replied, shrugging slightly.

Azzi didn’t let up, her gaze soft but persistent. “You don’t want to get to know the team?”

Paige still wasn’t convinced, and Azzi could see the indecision on her face. She leaned in a little, her tone coaxing. “Come on. If you're genuinely considering coming here, they have to see that you aren’t as bad as they think.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, picking up on the subtle words at the end. “What’d they say?”

Azzi shook her head, brushing it off quickly. “It doesn’t matter, it isn’t true.”

Paige raised an eyebrow at her, unconvinced. “Is it?” she asked.

Azzi gave a slight, dismissive shake of her head. “No. Not at all. And they can find out if you come out with us tonight.”

Paige let out a soft exhale, thinking it over. Finally, she gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Azzi grinned widely at her success. “Perfect. You can meet us at our dorm when you’re ready.”

Paige chuckled, glancing away. “I’ll just meet you wherever we’re going after I stop by my hotel.”

Azzi squinted playfully, not fully trusting the plan but deciding to go along with it. “Fine, but give me your number so I can text you when we’re heading out.”

Paige gave her a bemused look. “You can just give me yours.”

Azzi shook her head firmly. “Nope.”

Paige laughed. “Why not?”

Azzi's grin widened. “That gives you too much control over the situation. If you’re going to be on my team, you need to learn to let that control go... just a little bit.”

Paige’s laugh was warm, a little more genuine this time. She grabbed a piece of paper off of the scorers table writing her number on it before handing it to Azzi. “There. Happy?”

Azzi took it, her smile broadening. “Very. See you later.”

Paige just chuckled as she watched Azzi walk away.

…

Azzi was sitting at her desk, applying a little mascara in front of her mirror, the quiet buzz of her room filling the space when Caroline’s voice broke through the stillness.

“So, how do you know Paige already?” Caroline asked.

Azzi didn't look up, focusing on her lashes, but her answer was casual. “I don’t... well, not really. She was on my flight from DC.”

Caroline’s gaze flickered a little with suspicion. “On your flight? You guys talked a lot today, though.”

Azzi shrugged nonchalantly. “Geno told me to make her feel comfortable. He wants her to come here.”

Caroline gave a knowing glance, her eyebrow arching. “That’s all?”

Azzi shot her a look, but still replied with a quiet, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Caroline didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure, that’s all.”

Azzi chuckled lightly, shifting in her seat. “What do you mean Car?”

Caroline grinned, crossing her arms. “I mean, you were talking to her a lot today…and she’s your type.”

Azzi turned a gave her a pointed look, shaking her head. “I don’t have a type. I barely even talk to girls these days.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unconvinced. “That’s because you’re particular. Still, the few you do talk to...you like tall blondes Azzi. Especially ones with the kind of vibe Paige seems to give off.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off, but didn’t offer a rebuttal. Caroline smirked as she pressed, “You aren’t denying it.”

Azzi took a deep breath, trying to hold back her smile. “She’s just... interesting. That’s all. I’m trying to figure her out.”

Caroline leaned in a little closer. “Yeah, because you want to sleep with her.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, her face incredulous. “I do not.”

Caroline simply shrugged as her smile grew. “Yes, you do.”

Azzi sighed, exhaling slowly. She opened her mouth to say something but then stopped herself, unsure of what to say next. There was a moment of silence before Caroline spoke again, this time a little more matter-of-fact.

“Look, if you’re going to sleep with her, just do it before we officially maybe become teammates with the girl.”

Azzi was about to respond when the door to her room cracked open, and Aaliyah’s head popped in. “You guys ready?” she asked, clearly eager to get going.

Azzi immediately stood up, thankful for the interruption. “Yup, let’s go,” she said, flashing a grin at Caroline as she grabbed her jacket.

Azzi quickly shot a text to Paige, her fingers flying over the screen. As she sent the address and a simple We’re heading out. She hit send, not thinking much of it, but Caroline caught a glimpse of her phone screen.

"Do it before she's your teammate," Caroline simply said again.

Azzi immediately pushed her playfully, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Shut up,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

Caroline only laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, it’s not like you’ll get another shot after this.” She wiggled her eyebrows, but Azzi rolled her eyes again, determined to ignore her teasing.

“Seriously, shut up,” Azzi repeated, trying to keep her composure, though there was a hint of color rising in her cheeks.

Caroline chuckled but said no more, knowing she was getting a rise out of Azzi. “Alright, alright. Let’s go,” she said, grabbing her keys and heading out of the suite.

Azzi followed behind her, her phone vibrating in her back pocket. She pulled it out seeing a simple bet from Paige.

…

Later that night when Paige walked into Ted’s, Azzi immediately noticed the change in her. The sweats and hoodie she’d worn earlier were gone. She wore bright yellow pants that caught the light and a slightly oversized black t-shirt. The simple glistening chain with a cross around her neck caught Azzi's eye, and the silver rings on her fingers and tennis bracelet on her wrist added to the look. Her hair was pulled back into a bun.

Azzi swallowed a little too hard, her gaze lingering on Paige's figure as she took in the transformation. It was like the girl who had been sitting behind the bench earlier had completely disappeared. This version of Paige was undeniably captivating, and Azzi felt a tightening in her chest she couldn’t quite explain.

Caroline, standing next to Azzi, seemed to notice her moment of hesitation and leaned in with a whisper-sung tease. “Just get it over with.”

Azzi shot her a look, eyes narrowing, but Caroline only grinned, clearly entertained by her friend’s unease. Before Azzi could respond, Paige approached, and the air between them shifted instantly.

Azzi’s smile widened, trying to hide her discomfort. “You made it,” she said warmly.

Paige smiled slightly, that same quiet and mysterjous energy radiating off her. “I did.”

Caroline cleared her throat, catching Azzi’s attention and prompting her to step back into the moment. “Oh, sorry,” Azzi mumbled before gesturing to the two women. “Paige, this is Caroline. Caroline, Paige.”

Paige extended her hand to shake Caroline’s. “Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice smooth.

Azzi suddenly became hyper-aware of the exchange, watching the way their hands met, the simple contact sending a jolt through her. Something about seeing them shake hands, so effortless, so casual, made her realize just how little physical contact she and Paige had shared. It wasn’t like it mattered—it wasn’t like she wanted to initiate anything—but the realization sent an odd feeling coursing through her veins. Something about the way their hands lingered for just a moment too long in the handshake.

Azzi quickly shook the feeling off, pushing it down, forcing herself to focus on the rest of the group gathered around the bar and away from the tension she felt creeping up between her and Paige. She was overthinking this, wasn’t she?

After the introduction with Caroline, Azzi led Paige around the room, introducing her to some of the team. It was a quick but necessary round of introductions, and the rest of the UConn players seemed to size Paige up in their own way, each offering their hand or a warm smile. Most were welcoming, eager to make her feel part of the group.

First, Azzi introduced her to Aubrey, who gave Paige a friendly nod. “Good to have you here,” she said, her voice upbeat, as she shook Paige’s hand.

“Thanks,” Paige replied, returning the handshake with ease. Her smile was soft but genuine, and Azzi was hoping this would make her a little less tense.

Next up was Nika, who eyed Paige cautiously but still offered a handshake. She didn’t say much, just a short, “Nice to meet you,” before looking away, clearly trying not to make the encounter too awkward. Paige caught the tension, but she didn’t let it faze her. Instead, she just gave Nika a polite smile, nodding.

Azzi caught the brief exchange and couldn’t help but notice the slight distance between the two.

As Azzi watched Paige interact with the rest of the team, she couldn’t help but notice something else—Paige smelled incredible. The subtle yet unmistakable scent of jasmine and vanilla mixed in the air every time Paige moved. It was the kind of fragrance that lingered just enough to be noticed but not so much that it was overwhelming to someone’s nose. Azzi took a deep breath, trying to focus on something else, but it was hard not to be aware of the way the scent seemed to wrap itself around her, settling into her senses in a way that made her feel just a little warmer.

After the introductions were done, Azzi led Paige over to the bar. She glanced at Paige, who was walking beside her with that effortless cool she always seemed to radiate.

As they approached the bar, Azzi’s thoughts were interrupted by Caroline who whispered, “Just get it over with” as she walked by. Azzi shot her a warning look.

“Shut the hell up,” Azzi muttered back, before turning her attention to Paige, who was already ordering a drink at the bar.

Azzi leaned against the bar, the dim lighting of the room casting soft shadows over her face as she watched Paige closely. There was something different about her tonight—something that Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Azzi leaned in just slightly, her voice carrying over the light music that was playing. “So, what’s been the most interesting thing you’ve seen here so far?” Azzi asked, trying to get Paige to open up, sensing that Paige didn’t volunteer information without being nudged.

Paige, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, shrugged just slightly. “Not sure. Everyone’s... a lot different than I expected.” Her voice was softer than usual, but it was clear she wasn’t uncomfortable. She was just more observant, taking everything in around her.

Azzi smiled, her eyes narrowing playfully as she took in Paige’s response. “Different how?” she pressed, wanting to hear more.

Paige glanced over at her, her lips curling into the slightest smile. “They’re... more relaxed, I guess. You’d think they’d be more intense, you know? I mean, I know they’re all good, but...” Her words trailed off, her voice almost contemplative. She didn’t finish her thought, leaving it hanging between them as they settled into silence for a second.

Azzi took the opportunity to study Paige a little more closely, sensing that something was off. There was a quiet intensity in her, like she was letting everything wash over her without reacting.

Azzi couldn’t help but feel drawn to it, but there was still something about it that made her curious.

“So,” Azzi said after a beat, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “I feel like you’re a little more hesitant tonight. What’s that about?” Her tone was teasing, but it was laced with an underlying curiosity.

Paige, who had been lost in her thoughts, snapped back to the present moment and glanced at Azzi. There was a flicker of a smile on her lips, but it was subtle. “I’m just listening to what you’re saying,” she responded with a quiet chuckle, her gaze meeting Azzi’s for just a second before looking down at her drink.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by the response. She wasn’t used to Paige being so... still. There was always this confident energy about her, even when she was quiet. But tonight, it felt like Paige was holding back just a little bit. It wasn’t discomfort—it was something else.

Azzi chuckled softly. “Ah, so it’s all about me, huh?”

Paige smirked, but there was something in her eyes, something that Azzi couldn’t quite place. “I wouldn’t say that,” Paige replied, her tone barely audible, but there was an edge to it—something that felt almost playful, despite the calm exterior.

Azzi leaned back, still studying Paige. “Hmm... well, you’re still quieter than usual,” she said, her smile softening, though her eyes remained curious. “Which, considering you're already a woman of few words, says a lot.”

Paige smiled a little, a flicker of humor in her eyes. “I promise I’m just listening to what you’re saying,” she said again, as though it were a simple explanations

Azzi wasn’t buying it. She noticed how closed off Paige was tonight, at least compared to what she was used to. She leaned in a little, her voice turning more serious. “Can I ask you something?” Azzi’s tone was more purposeful and she watched Paige closely.

Paige glanced at her, a silent invitation to continue.

Azzi hesitated for a brief moment, then spoke, her voice quieter now. “It’s a little personal.”

Paige met her gaze and gave a small nod, giving Azzi the unspoken go-ahead. “Go ahead,” she said, her eyes steady on Azzi’s.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But what happened during your senior year? You kind of…”fell off the face of the earth” in KK’s words.” Her tone wasn’t judgmental, just curious, like she was trying to understand a part of Paige that remained untold.

Paige chuckled lightly, her eyes shifting away as if she were weighing the decision to answer. For a moment, she studied Azzi, considering whether or not to open up. Then, with a quiet breath, she simply replied, “Car accident.”

Azzi’s eyes softened immediately. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Paige gave a quick shake of her head, brushing it off. “It’s fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?” she said, her words light, almost like she was trying to ease the heaviness of the moment. She let out a soft chuckle, her eyes flicking to the side briefly.

After a pause, she continued, her voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It wasn’t bad for me. I just needed to stay close to home to help my family out.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing in admiration. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, her voice softening with a touch of warmth.

Paige picked up her drink, taking a slow sip as she looked over at Azzi with a faint smile trying to shift the conversation. “Is that what I am now? Sweet?” she asked, her tone teasing Azzi a little.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I don’t know... are you?” she replied, leaning back just slightly, her eyes locking with Paige’s.

Paige smirked, her lips curving slightly. “Maybe sometimes,” she replied, the words filled with a touch of intrigue, leaving just enough unsaid to keep Azzi on her toes.

The two of them stood in that quiet moment, the subtle tension between them hanging in the air. Neither of them looked away, letting the silence linger.

Just as the moment grew heavier, a burst of energy interrupted, as KK bounded over to Azzi, her arm instantly slinging around her.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head as she looked away from Paige with a slight smile. “Hi, KK,” she said.

“You over here chatting up my replacement?” KK’s voice was full of playful accusation, but everyone could tell she was joking.

Azzi playfully rolls her eyes as she looks at KK. “She’s a little too quiet to be your replacement KK.”

KK raised an eyebrow and looked over at Paige, her gaze scanning her briefly before she leaned in with a grin. “You quiet Bueckers?” she asked.

Paige let out a soft laugh, glancing at Azzi before meeting KK’s eyes. “I can be. Depends on the person I guess” she said, her tone carrying a hint of amusement, as though suggesting there was more to her than met the eye.

KK smiled, satisfied with the response. “Well, looks like you two are chatting just fine so I’m gonna leave you to it,” she remarked, giving Azzi a wink before moving off to talk with the others.

Azzi turned back to Paige, the energy between them shifting again now that KK had left. Paige took a sip of her drink, her fingers absentmindedly spinning the glass against the bar top. Azzi watched her for a second before tilting her head.

“So, is this what you’re like on a night out?” Azzi asked, leaning against the bar with a grin. “Quiet, mysterious… just sitting there looking pretty in your own head?”

Paige huffed a small laugh, shaking her head as she set her drink down. “Maybe,” she said, glancing at Azzi. “But I think you just called me pretty.”

Azzi smirked. “I did.”

Paige held her gaze for a moment before nodding slightly. “Good to know,” she said simply.

Azzi laughed, the sound warm. “You’re a little hard to read, you know that?” she said, studying Paige like she was trying to figure her out.

Paige shrugged, her expression still tinged with amusement. “Maybe you’re just bad at reading me Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Oh, I don’t think that’s it.” She let her eyes briefly flicker over Paige slowly before meeting her gaze again. “I think I’m figuring you out just fine. Slowly but surely.”

Paige held her stare, her own smirk forming. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “Mhm.” She leaned in just slightly. “Like, I think you like the attention more than you let on.”

Paige’s lips pressed together like she was trying not to smile, but the amusement was evident in her eyes. “That so?”

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “Yeah. You pretend to be unbothered, but you’re not as unaffected as you want people to think.”

Paige chuckled at that, shaking her head slightly. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because,” she said, tapping her fingers against the bar. “You’re still sitting here talking to me.”

Paige exhaled a soft laugh, her eyes flickering down for a second before she looked back at Azzi. She leaned in slightly herself, her voice dropping just enough.

“And you’re still talking to me,” she pointed out.

Azzi felt a small rush at that, the way Paige’s words carried that same challenge had grown accustomed to before tonight. She grinned, tilting her head. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Paige hummed, taking another sip of her drink before looking back at Azzi, a glimmer of something playful—something interested—settling behind her gaze. “Good to know,” she said again, repeating her words from earlier, but this time, her voice was just the slightest bit lower.

As the night carried on, Azzi and Paige eventually drifted back toward the rest of the team. The atmosphere was lively—laughter, drinks clinking, the steady hum of conversation filling the space. Paige found herself next to Ice, who was mid-story about something that happened during practice earlier that week.

Paige listened, offering small nods and the occasional chuckle, but it was clear she wasn’t as engaged as she had been at the bar with Azzi. She was friendly, polite, but there was a noticeable shift—her responses shorter, her posture a little more reserved. She wasn’t standoffish, just… quieter.

Ice noticed. She squinted at Paige, tilting her head. “You always this quiet?” she asked.

Paige sipped her drink before shrugging. “Most times.”

Ice gave her a once-over, a look creeping onto her face before she glanced past Paige—right at Azzi, who was talking to Nika a few feet away. A slow smirk tugged at Ice’s lips as she looked back at Paige.

“Huh,” Ice mused, taking another sip of her drink. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Paige furrowed her brows slightly. “What do you mean?”

Ice smirked. “Nothing,” she said, but the way she dragged out the word made it obvious that it wasn’t nothing. She took another sip before nodding toward Azzi. “Just saying—you seem to talk a little more when you’re over there.”

Paige’s lips pressed together, her grip tightening around her glass just slightly. “Do I?” she asked, her voice neutral.

Ice grinned. “Mhm.” She leaned in just a little. “Don’t worry, though. I think she likes it.”

Paige exhaled a small laugh before shaking her head. “You’re reading into things.”

Ice just smirked wider. “I’m definitely not.”

After a while it had gotten pretty late. Paige exhaled softly, setting her drink down on the nearest surface before turning to Azzi. “I think I’m gonna head out.”

Azzi, who had been mid-conversation with Caroline, instinctively paused, her head turning toward Paige. “How’re you getting back?” she asked, brows slightly furrowed.

Paige gave a small shrug. “I was just gonna Uber to my hotel.”

Before Azzi could respond, Caroline wordlessly grabbed her keys and pressed them firmly into Azzi’s hand. “Azzi can take you,” she said.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard. She shot Caroline a look, but the girl just grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself.

Paige hesitated, her eyes flickering between them before shaking her head. “No, it’s cool, I don’t wanna—”

“I don’t mind,” Azzi finally cut in, her voice coming out a little too smooth, a little too sure. She adjusted the keys in her hand, turning toward Paige now.

Caroline, visibly enjoying every second of this, shoved Azzi’s jacket toward her. “Perfect. Drive safe.”

Azzi exhales, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to Paige. “Well,” she says, tilting her head toward the door, “guess you’re stuck with me.”

Paige huffs a small laugh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Guess so.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air between them charged. Then, without another word, Azzi gestures for Paige to follow her, leading the way toward the exit.

As soon as they got in the car, Azzi adjusted her seat and started the engine, but for the first time that night, she wasn’t sure what to say. Paige had already given her the address when they were walking towards the car. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—at least, not for Paige. She looked completely at ease, her body relaxed against the seat as she gazed out the window. The glow from the streetlights cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her jawline and the way her silver rings caught the light whenever she shifted her hand.

Azzi stole a quick glance at her before finally breaking the silence. “So, Ice thinks you only talk to me.”

Paige turned her head slightly, a small smirk playing at her lips. “That’s what she said.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, keeping her eyes on the road. “And what did you say?”

Paige exhaled a quiet laugh before looking back out the window. “Didn’t say anything.”

Azzi hummed at that, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “Interesting.”

Paige tilted her head slightly but didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch between them for another beat.

Azzi smirked, finally glancing over at her again. “That means you didn’t deny it.”

Paige smiled a little as she looked over at Azzi. “Didn’t feel the need to.”

Azzi grinned at that, her grip on the wheel loosening as the conversation found its rhythm again. “So you like talking to me too, then?”

Paige looked at Azzi, her eyes unreadable, but her lips curved just enough. “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head as she turned her focus back to the road. “You like being difficult, don’t you?”

Paige smirked again, settling further into her seat. “Maybe sometimes.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe sometimes,” she repeated, stealing another glance at Paige. “You know, for someone as quiet as you, you sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

Paige smirked, her fingers idly playing with the rings on her hand. “That a bad thing?”

Azzi scoffed. “Didn’t say that.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, the air between them was light despite the weight of whatever was lingering beneath the surface.

Azzi tapped her fingers against the wheel, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “So, if you didn’t say you like talking to me… and you didn’t say you don’t… what am I supposed to do with that information?”

Paige glanced at her, the corners of her lips curling just slightly. “Figure it out.”

Azzi let out a low chuckle. “Oh, I see how it is. You like making things difficult for me.”

Paige tilted her head, pretending to think about it. “Maybe sometimes.”

Azzi groaned dramatically. “Alright, you can’t keep using that answer. It’s a cop-out.”

Paige grinned this time, the most open she’d been all night. “Seems to be working just fine.”

Azzi shot her a look, playful and exasperated all at once. “What makes you say that?”

Paige shrugged. “Because you’re taking me back to my hotel.”

Azzi exhaled a laugh, shaking her head as she made a turn. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

For a moment, there was only the hum of the engine and the quiet city around them, the comfortable silence settling between them again.

Then Azzi glanced over, her voice dipping slightly, her tone laced with something else. “You sure you don’t like talking to me?”

Paige studied her for a beat. Then, with a small smirk, she turned back toward the window.

“Maybe sometimes.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this and Paige just chuckled at her reaction as she went back to looking out the window.

A bit later Azzi pulled into the hotel parking lot, shifting the car into park as the engine settled. The quiet between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but filled with something unspoken. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the car’s interior, highlighting the subtle tension that had been building all night.

Azzi was the first to break the silence. “When do you leave Connecticut?”

Paige kept her gaze forward for a moment, her fingers idly tapping against her knee before she answered. “Tomorrow night.”

Azzi hummed in acknowledgment, nodding slightly as she processed that.

The silence returned, heavier this time, until Paige exhaled quietly. She glanced over at Azzi, studying her for a moment before finally speaking again. “You wanna come upstairs?”

Azzi’s first instinct was to hesitate, to say it probably isn’t a good idea, but Caroline’s voice echoed in her head—do it before she’s your teammate—and before she could second-guess herself, she found herself nodding. “I do.”

Paige’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before she simply nodded back. “Cool.”

With that, she pushed open the car door, stepping out into the night without looking back, leaving Azzi gripping the steering wheel for half a second longer before finally following.

The two of them walked through the hotel lobby, the quiet padding of their footsteps echoing against the polished floors. Azzi glanced around, taking in the sleek, modern design. “This is nice,” she commented, her eyes sweeping over the dimly lit lounge area.

Paige chuckled, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Courtesy of your coach.”

Azzi smirked at that, shaking her head as they stopped in front of the elevator. As they waited, she pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Caroline telling her she was fine before tucking it back into her pocket.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and they stepped inside. The ride up was… a little awkward—not bad awkward, just thick. The tension from earlier hadn’t disappeared, just shifted into something more present, lingering in the small space between them. Azzi found herself hyper aware of Paige standing beside her, close enough that she could catch the subtle traces of her scent again.

Before she could think twice about it, she blurted out, “What kind of perfume do you use?”

Paige turned her head, smirking as she chuckled softly. “Dolce & Gabbana.”

Azzi hummed at that, but didn’t say anything back.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Azzi hesitated for half a second before shrugging. “No reason.”

The elevator doors slid open and the two of them walked down the hallway before Paige stopped at her door. She swiped her keycard against the lock, the green light flashing as the door clicked open. With a small glance back at Azzi, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As Azzi fully stepped inside, she immediately took note of how clean the room was. Sure, the hotel staff had probably stopped by, but there was something about the way Paige’s things were neatly folded, her shoes lined up on the wall, her duffel bag zipped up in the corner, that made it clear she kept it that way herself. It didn’t smell like a hotel room either—it smelled like her. That same mix of jasmine and vanilla that had been lingering in Azzi’s head all night.

Paige walked over to the mini fridge, casually pulling it open. “You want a water?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Paige grabbed two bottles, tossing one to Azzi before twisting the cap off her own and leaning against the desk. The silence that settled between them wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it carried a weight, like they were both aware of something neither of them wanted to address just yet. Azzi took a sip of her water, eyes flickering around the room before landing back on Paige.

Azzi rolled the bottle of water between her palms, glancing over at Paige, who was still leaning against the desk, watching her with that same unreadable expression she’d had in the car. The silence stretched for another beat before Azzi finally spoke.

“So…” she started, tilting her head slightly. “Why’d you invite me up?”

Paige smirked a little at that, as if she’d been expecting the question. She took a sip of her water before responding. “Did you not want to come?”

Azzi let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “That’s not what I asked.”

Paige hummed, setting her bottle down on the desk behind her. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice light. “Seemed like you weren’t ready to say goodnight yet.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Oh yeah? And what gave you that impression?”

Paige didn’t move, but her smirk deepened just slightly. “I got a vibe.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “You got a vibe?”

Paige hummed in response, her gaze steady as she just looked at Azzi, unreadable yet somehow still saying something.

Azzi tilted her head. “What goes on in your head all day?”

Paige took a sip of her water before simply replying, “Thoughts.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh. “Well, that’s a miracle.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “You got jokes, huh?”

Azzi smirked, repeating Paige’s own words from earlier. “Maybe sometimes.”

Paige let out a chuckle, shaking her head slightly as she played with her water bottle. “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” she admitted before taking another sip.

Azzi smirked, leaning against the wall now, mirroring Paige’s casual stance. “I’ll take it.”

A brief silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was charged—like they were both waiting to see who would say something next, who would push the moment just a little further.

Paige finally broke it as she looked at Azzi. “You never answered my question.”

Azzi lifted an eyebrow. “Which one?”

Paige gave her a pointed look. “Did you want to come up?”

Azzi let the question hang in the air for a second, her smirk fading into something softer—something just as teasing but a little more honest. “I think you already know the answer to that Paige.”

Paige held her gaze, her lips twitching slightly like she was fighting back another smirk. “Yeah,” she mumbled, voice just a little lower than before. “I think I do.”

Azzi shook her head as she took a sip of her water. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Paige smirked. “That a good thing?”

Azzi tilted her head, considering. “Most of the time.”

Paige huffed a soft laugh. “And the rest of the time?”

Azzi shrugged. “Jury’s still out.”

Paige hummed at this, licking her lips as she looked at Azzi. The thoughts behind her eyes clear for the first time.

Azzi looked down for a second before meeting Paige’s gaze again. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige nodded and Azzi watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. “I’m going to be a little bold with this, so if I have the wrong idea, please tell me.”

Paige chuckled, a glint in her eyes as she motioned for Azzi to go ahead.

Azzi hesitated for only a second before asking, “How many people have you slept with?”

Paige didn’t flinch, didn’t seem caught off guard. Instead, she answered smoothly, “Six.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Recently?”

Paige shook her head. “No.”

Azzi hummed at this, nodding slowly, taking in the way Paige seemed completely unfazed, as if this kind of conversation didn’t rattle her in the slightest.

Then Paige moved. She pushed off the desk, stepping toward Azzi with an almost lazy confidence, the gap between them shrinking. Azzi could feel the shift immediately.

Paige stopped just in front of her, close enough that Azzi caught that familiar mix of jasmine and vanilla. She tilted her head slightly, her voice low, smooth.

“Why do you ask?”

Azzi let out a soft breath, lips twitching. “Just curious.”

Paige hummed, her gaze locked on Azzi. “You always this curious?”

Azzi smirked. “Depends on who I’m talking to.”

Paige’s lips quirked slightly, but she didn’t respond right away. She just held Azzi’s gaze, the space between them thinning ever so slightly, a silent conversation playing out between them.

Azzi swallowed, her voice quieter now. “And?” she asked. “Did I have the wrong idea?”

Paige exhaled softly, her eyes flickering down to Azzi’s lips again before meeting her gaze again.

“No.”

Azzi’s gaze flickered down to Paige’s lips for just a second before meeting her eyes again. “So… when’s the last time?”

Paige let out a quiet breath, something amused crossing her face. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Azzi smirked. “Only when I actually want to know the answers.”

Paige studied her for a moment, then tilted her head deciding to ease her mind. “It’s been a while.”

Azzi let that sit between them for a second before she asked, “Why’s that?”

Paige exhaled a soft chuckle, the corner of her mouth lifting like she found the conversation entertaining. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Azzi didn’t blink. “You could.”

Paige didn’t back down either. “Would you answer?”

Azzi took a small step closer, her voice dipping lower. “Maybe.”

Paige hummed at that, her fingers trailing idly against the rings on her finger. “Maybe I’m just waiting.”

Azzi’s eyes searched hers. “Waiting for what?”

Paige held Azzi’s gaze, her voice smooth as she said, “That depends on you.”

Azzi’s brow lifted slightly. “How so?”

Paige exhaled softly, tilting her head just a little. “We’re probably going to be teammates.”

Azzi tucked that knowledge away as Paige unknowingly let that slip. “We’re not teammates yet,” she countered, voice lower now. “And it’s just one night.”

Paige chuckled, the sound quiet, knowing. “It’ll be more than just one night.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, intrigued. “You seem confident.”

Paige leaned in just enough that Azzi could feel the warmth of her breath. “You seem too interested for it to be just one night.” A pause, then a smirk. “And I think everything in life happens for a reason.”

Azzi hummed, considering that before simply saying, “You think too much.”

Paige chuckled again, softer this time. “You’re probably right.”

Azzi’s eyes darkened just slightly as she searched Paige’s face. “I want us to stop talking,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, only inches from Paige’s lips.

Paige held her gaze. Slowly, she gave a small nod, her voice just as quiet. “Then let’s stop talking.”

Azzi didn’t need any more convincing. The space between them disappeared in an instant as their lips finally met—slow at first, testing the waters, before deepening. Paige’s hands instinctively found Azzi’s waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her shirt, while Azzi’s arms wrapped securely around Paige’s neck, pulling her in closer.

It wasn’t lost on Azzi that this was the first time they had ever really touched—no casual brushes of hands, no lingering grazes—just this, a full embrace, lips slotting together like they had been waiting for it. And maybe they had.

Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened, a subtle squeeze that sent a thrill down Azzi’s spine. In response, Azzi deepened the kiss, tilting her head slightly, allowing their lips to move in perfect sync. They breathed through their noses, neither of them willing to pull away just yet, as if letting go would break whatever spell had settled between them.

Azzi could feel the warmth of Paige’s skin beneath her fingertips, the firm muscle beneath her grip. The moment was thick, charged, and she was already losing herself completely in the way Paige kissed her

Azzi barely pulled back, her lips still ghosting over Paige’s as she murmured, “You’re not gonna ask me?”

Paige’s hands slid over Azzi’s waist, guiding them slowly toward the bed. “Ask what?”

Azzi smirked, her breath warm against Paige’s lips. “How many people I’ve slept with.”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “Doesn’t matter,” she said simply, her tone steady as she guided Azzi back until the bed hit the back of her legs.

Azzi let out a small, surprised breath as she lost her balance slightly, but Paige caught her with ease, steadying her before laying them down gently. The moment stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, as Paige hovered over her, her fingers still resting lightly against Azzi’s waist.

Azzi met her gaze, her smirk forming into a soft smile. “No?”

Paige shook her head, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over Azzi’s hip. “No,” she murmured, eyes flickering between Azzi’s lips and her gaze.

Azzi didn’t let Paige linger too much. She reached up, fingers slipping into Paige’s bun, working it loose until blonde strands cascaded freely around her face. A satisfied smile ghosted Azzi’s lips as she pulled Paige back down, kissing her slowly.

After a while, Paige broke away, standing up as she reached for the hem of her shirt. Azzi pushed up onto her elbows, watching as Paige peeled it over her head. Her gaze naturally traced the lines of Paige’s toned stomach, but then her eyes caught something else—a scar along the side of her torso.

It wasn’t massive, but it definitely wasn’t small either.

Paige noticed where Azzi’s eyes had landed, so she spoke before Azzi could ask. “Car accident,” she said simply, her voice unreadable.

Azzi just nodded, not pressing.

Paige didn’t give her the chance to linger on it. She was back over Azzi in an instant, her hands pressing into the mattress on either side of Azzi’s waist. Their eyes met again, and whatever weight the moment held dissolved as Paige leaned back in, her lips capturing Azzi’s once more.

Azzi let out a slow breath, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair as Paige’s lips trailed down her jaw, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. Paige’s hands were steady, pushing Azzi’s shirt up inch by inch, her fingers grazing over smooth skin, mapping out the new territory.

Azzi tilted her head instinctively, offering more of herself, and Paige took her time, pressing kisses along the curve of her neck, her breath hot against Azzi’s skin. Azzi’s own breathing grew just a little heavier, her body reacting to each kiss.

Paige lingered there for a moment–kissing, nipping, sucking–reveling in the way Azzi’s body responded to her before murmuring against her skin, “You wanna take this off?” She punctuated the question with a gentle tug at Azzi’s shirt.

Azzi nodded, lifting her arms slightly to help Paige pull her shirt over her head. As the fabric was tossed aside, Paige’s eyes roamed over Azzi’s exposed torso and chest, a slow, almost dazed smile spreading across her lips. She shook her head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping her.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Paige just licked her lips, her gaze dragging up to meet Azzi’s as she murmured, “You look good.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses against her stomach. The warmth of her lips mixed with the faint scrape of her teeth made Azzi’s breath hitch. Paige took her time, sucking lightly against her skin before trailing back up, her mouth exploring, savoring the taste of Azzi’s skin.

Azzi let her head fall back against the pillow, her fingers instinctively threading through Paige’s hair. She wasn’t sure if she meant to pull her closer or slow her down, but Paige didn’t give her a chance to decide.

By the time their lips met again, the kiss was deeper, slower, like neither of them were in a rush to let go.

Paige’s fingers played with the button of Azzi’s pants, her touch light but teasing. When she heard Azzi’s breath hitch, she pulled back just slightly. “You good?”

Azzi nodded quickly, voice a little breathless. “Yeah.”

Paige smirked. “You sure? ‘Cause for a second there, it sounded like I did something to you.”

Azzi scoffed, her grip tightening on Paige’s bare shoulders. “Shut up.”

Paige chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss just below Azzi’s jaw. “That’s not a denial.” Sucking slightly after she asked.

Azzi exhaled sharply, tipping her head back against the pillow. “You really think you’re something, don’t you?”

Paige hummed against her skin, the vibration making Azzi swallow. “No, I know I am.” She nipped at Azzi’s collarbone before pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “And based on the way you’re looking at me right now… you know it too.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the way she was gripping Paige’s waist, pulling her back down. “This is probably the most you’ve talked.”

Paige chuckled, finally undoing the button. “Guess you just bring out the best in me.”

Paige started trailing her lips down Aziz’s body again, nipping at the skin and sucking here and there.

Once she reached Aziz’s waist she looked up at her expectedly as her fingers wrapped around the waistband of Azzi’s pants. Azzi lifted her hips making it easier for Paige to slide them and her underwear down Azzi’s legs smoothly. Taking her own pants off when she discards Azzi’s.

Paige settled between Azzi’s legs, her hands trailing slowly against Azzi’s thighs as she hovered over her center. The air between them was thick making it hard to think straight. Still Paige paused before she brushed her lips lower.

She lifted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto Azzi’s. “This okay?”

Azzi, already breathless, nodded immediately. “Yeah.”

Paige didn’t move, just studied her for a second longer, her fingers still tracing slow, aimless patterns along Azzi’s thighs. “You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?”

Azzi exhaled. “Of course.”

Paige held her gaze for a beat longer, studying her, then nodded, the corner of her mouth tugging into something softer than a smirk. “Good.”

Then Paige was dipping her head between Azzi’s legs and Azzi immediately sighed at the contact, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair.

Paige switched between licking and sucking as she paid close attention to Azzi’s reactions. Azzi wasn’t outwardly vocal yet. Her breath had grown uneven and her chest rose and fell a little quicker but she hadn’t let out any outward indication of her feelings as she bit down on her lip.

Paige used both of her hands to pull Aziz’s hips closer to her, pressing herself further into Azzi as she put Azzi’s legs over her shoulders.

Azzi’s fingers curled tighter in Paige’s hair, her breath hitching as she let out a quiet, unsteady sigh. “You feel so good,” she murmured, her voice coming out softer, more breathless than she intended.

Paige didn’t respond with words—she didn’t need to. Instead, she hummed against Azzi’s center, the low vibration sending a jolt through Azzi that pulled a quiet moan from her lips. Paige smirked at the sound, her hands gripping Azzi’s waist a little firmer, holding her steady.

Azzi swallowed, her breathing uneven. “You—” she started, but then Paige flicked her tongue making Azzi exhale sharply, her body reacting. Her head fell back against the pillow, her fingers tugging at Paige’s hair, needing something to hold on to. “God, Paige…” she sighed, her voice just above a whisper.

Paige still didn’t say anything, but the way she moved, the way she responded to every little sound Azzi made, was more than enough of an answer. Azzi bit her lip, trying to steady herself, but Paige was making it impossible. “You’re—” Azzi’s breath hitched again, her voice catching. “You’re too good at this.

Paige finally lifted her head just slightly, just enough for Azzi to catch the amused glint in her eyes and the wetness coating her lips before she murmured, “I know.” Then, just as Azzi was about to say something back, Paige was gone again, her actions cutting off whatever thought Azzi might’ve had, replacing it with another soft, shaky moan instead.

After a few minutes Paige pulled back slightly, replacing her mouth with her thumb as she traced deliberate circles against Azzi. She smirked as Azzi shivered beneath her, fingers still tangled in her hair.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Paige murmured, pressing a slow kiss just above Azzi’s hip. “That’s not like you.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening. “Shut up.”

Paige chuckled, circling her thumb in a deliberate, lazy motion that made Azzi’s stomach tense. “That’s not very nice,” she teased. “I was just trying to have a conversation.”

Azzi exhaled sharply, her voice unsteady. “You—you’re making that really hard right now.”

Paige hummed, satisfied. “Yeah?” she mused, tilting her head. “You usually have a lot to say. What happened?”

Azzi groaned, her head falling back against the pillow as she tried to collect herself. “Paige.”

Paige smirked, lifting her gaze, her chin resting just barely above Azzi’s hip as she watched her struggle. “Yeah?”

Azzi forced herself to look down at her, her breaths uneven. “You know what you’re doing.”

Paige grinned, adding another finger to her circular motions. “Maybe,” she admitted, her voice smooth, confident. “But I like hearing you say it.”

Azzi exhaled a shaky breath, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair as she tried to steady herself. Paige watched her eyes dark in a way that made Azzi’s stomach tighten as she had grown used to Paige’s usual light blue eyes.

“You’re…” Azzi started, but her breath hitched as Paige pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to her skin.

Paige hummed, barely glancing up. “I’m what?”

Azzi swallowed, her voice coming out softer than she intended. “You’re—”

Paige dragged her lips over the same spot, teasing as she pressed her fingers more firmly against Azzi. “Come on,” she coaxed. “You’re usually so good with words.”

Azzi let out a quiet, breathy laugh, though it quickly turned into another sigh as Paige traced her tongue along her skin again. “You feel good,” she admitted, her voice nearly a whisper.

Paige smirked. “Yeah?”

Azzi just nodded, her fingers flexing where they rested against Paige’s scalp.

Paige tilted her head slightly, pressing another slow, lazy kiss. “Good enough to make you forget how to talk?”

Azzi let out a shaky exhale. “Paige.”

Paige chuckled against her skin, taking her time. “That wasn’t a no.”

Azzi groaned, her head falling back against the pillow. “You want me to admit it?”

“I just wanna hear you.”

Azzi sucked in a breath as Paige found the perfect pace, her words getting caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before forcing them open, looking down at Paige, her expression unreadable.

“Ask me in a few minutes,” Azzi finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige smirked against her skin. “Mmm, ok.”

Azzi barely had a moment to gather herself before Paige was moving back near her lips, a knowing smirk playing on her face.

Azzi huffed, her breath still uneven. “Suddenly, you’re Chatty Cathy.”

Paige chuckled, tilting her head as she watched Azzi’s every reaction. “I usually just don’t have much to say.”

Azzi gave her a look, her lips parting slightly as she caught her breath. “You do now, apparently.”

Paige didn’t answer with words this time. Instead, she leaned in, nipping at Azzi’s neck, her teeth grazing just enough to make Azzi feel it.

Azzi inhaled sharply, gripping Paige’s arm.

Paige smirked against her skin. “Seems like you do too.”

Azzi was about to roll her eyes, ready to fire back, but the second Paige eased her fingers inside of her, her breath caught. Her lashes fluttered closed, her body reacting before she could think, and Paige caught it immediately.

She pulled back just enough to watch Azzi’s face, her smirk deepening. “That’s what I thought.”

Paige worked her fingers in and out, her head resting in the crook of Azzi’s neck as Azzi fought to keep her composure. Paige hovered just inches from Azzi's ear, her lips brushed against the delicate skin, whispering words that sent a wave of heat across Azzi’s neck. "You feel so good," Paige murmured softly.

"Can you feel how much I want you?" She drew her words out, the vibrations of her voice making Azzi’s pulse race in time with her breaths.

Azzi’s body responded before her mind could catch up, pulling Paige closer as she tried to ground herself in the feeling of her. Paige’s lips brushed against her ear again, the gentle heat of her breath making Azzi shiver. “You don’t have to say anything, just feel it,” Paige whispered, the words hanging in the air between them.

The way Paige’s breath mixed with her words, combined with the pressure of her body and the way she was working her fingers at the perfect pace, kept Azzi on the edge.

When Paige easily added another finger, Azzi’s breath caught, her chest rising and falling faster. She couldn’t help but let her hand drift down, grazing over the soft skin of Paige’s side until her fingers brushed against the scar near her torso.

At the contact, Paige sucked in a small breath, and without a word, she gently took Azzi’s hand, guiding it back up to her shoulder. The subtle movement was almost instinctive, a silent message that carried no discomfort—just a quiet assurance.

Azzi, realizing what she’d done, let out a breathless apology. “I’m sorry.”

Paige didn’t say anything immediately. She simply shook her head, the slight smile on her lips reassuring and seemingly tender. “It’s fine, pretty.” Her voice was soothing, like a calm after the storm, and it melted any hesitation Azzi had.

The words made Azzi’s breath catch, her eyes barely open as they met Paige’s gaze—deep brown eyes locking with Paige’s steady blue ones. Azzi’s voice barely broke through her breath, whispering, “I’m close.”

Paige nodded, her heart quickening, her breath steady as she stayed close, hovering just above her. Her lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she whispered back, “I got you.”

Azzi’s grip tightened around Paige, her nails curling into Paige’s skin, pulling her even closer. “Can you kiss me?” Azzi asked breathlessly, her voice nearly a plea.

Without hesitation, Paige leaned down, her lips capturing Azzi’s in a passionate kiss. As soon as their mouths met, the kiss deepened, and Paige’s senses swirled—Azzi’s breath, the taste of her lips, the way her body moved beneath hers.

As the kiss grew more intense, Paige found herself swallowing Azzi’s gasps. Azzi was shaking beneath her, the tension building in her stomach. Paige could feel it, her own body responding instinctively, but it was Azzi’s trembling that made her want to hold on tighter. She kissed Azzi even deeper, feeling her tremble and pull at Paige’s shoulders. With every second, the heat between them seemed to double, and Paige couldn’t get enough of Azzi’s lips—of her sounds—of the way she reacted to her touch.

Azzi’s body arched beneath her, and Paige felt the moment before Azzi released over her fingers, her hands tightening once more around Paige. She didn’t break the kiss, her lips staying connected, savoring the moment as Azzi shuddered underneath her, the sounds she made muffled by their kiss that neither of them seemed inclined to stop.

After a few minutes the kiss finally broke, they were both breathless, but Paige stayed hovering above Azzi, her heart still racing.

After giving her a moment Paige moved off of Azzi and settled beside her, she could feel the soft heat of the moment still lingering between them. Azzi, though clearly trying to regain her energy, looked at her with a slight grin as she took slow, steady breaths, still adjusting to the aftershocks of what she felt.

Paige smiled a little, her voice. "Don't worry about it. You can get me next time," she said, her eyes filled with the playful confidence that Azzi had come to expect from her.

Azzi, barely opening her eyes, let out a small laugh, the remnants of pleasure still evident in her expression. "Who said anything about next time?" she asked, her voice light but laced with a hint of challenge.

Paige raised an eyebrow, giving her a look—one that was knowing, confident, and just a touch teasing. Azzi saw the look and didn't bother arguing, instead rolling her eyes as she closed them, her body still trying to find its calm.

Paige got up and walked to the bathroom, the soft click of the door closing behind her was the only sound in the room. She stood in front of the sink, running the water to wash her hands. Her eyes caught the faint scar near her hairline in the mirror, a reminder of a past she usually kept tucked away. The scar wasn’t large, but it was there and she noticed it every time she looked at herself.

Paige sighed softly, her reflection in the mirror a quiet reminder of everything she carried with her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the moment pass, focusing on the present instead. The warm water running over her hands brought a sense of normalcy, something she could control in a world that often felt unpredictable.

After drying her hands, Paige stood still for a moment, giving herself a final glance in the mirror before turning to head back to the bed. The weight of everything was still there, but it was lighter these days, fading into the background as her mind shifted back to the room she was in—and the woman she had just met, someone who felt entirely familiar.

When Paige returned to the bed, Azzi was still lying there, her eyes closed, her breath steady but soft. The moment between them had settled into a comfortable quiet. Paige walked back to her side of the bed, her gaze lingering on Azzi for a moment longer before she sat down next to her.

Azzi opened her eyes, meeting Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a small smile. Paige gave her a soft smile in return, one that said everything without words. The air between them felt oddly still.

Paige settled into the bed, pulling the covers up over both of them, her body still warm from their earlier closeness. She could sense Azzi hesitating, her body almost stalling before she moved toward her. Paige chuckled softly, the sound slightly affectionate as she spoke. “We just had sex, Azzi. I can hold you.”

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but Paige felt the shift in the mattress when Azzi finally moved closer. She rested her head against Paige’s chest, letting out a small sigh as she cuddled into her side. It was as if the world outside of the room didn’t exist anymore, the quiet intimacy settling between them. Azzi’s hand found its way across Paige’s stomach, her fingers gently brushing over her skin.

For a moment, Paige tensed as Azzi’s hand grazed over the scar on her torso, a small but noticeable part of her that she had learned to live with but never truly embraced. Paige’s breath hitched ever so slightly, but she didn’t pull away. She flicked her fingers lightly against her side, a small but intentional movement as she fought her body not to react too strongly.

She willed herself to stay still, to just let Azzi be without any hesitation. Paige took a steady breath, tightening her other arm around Azzi, pulling her in just a little closer. She closed her eyes, letting the weight of the night, of their connection, wash over her as she allowed herself to slowly relax into the comfort of the moment.

Azzi’s breath evened out against her chest, signaling that she was starting to drift off, and Paige willed herself to follow shortly after, the steady rhythm of their breathing a lullaby that eased her into sleep.

[serukaiz]

i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but i’d love to see your take on bully!keisuke or overall mean and nasty keisuke <33

thank you so much for the req, darling! i had fun writing this. my requests are still open! i’ll go ahead and mention that in my pinned. i hope this is to your satisfaction <3

♡ 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘!𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄.

💢 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT!

⚠️ warnings: smut, heavy dacryphilia, sadism, masochism, the whole thing starts because he blackmails you, he’s an evil asshole in this, he hates you but does he really, degradation, MEAN SHIT!!!

ⓘ this won’t be centered around him in school or college. think of it like you were unfortunately introduced to him and he decided you’re the one girl he wants to cause pure misery.

you’re a friend of mikey’s. he’s got this one companion — best friend — keisuke baji. 

he’s strong from what you know. tall, muscular. dark eyes and a brooding demeanour, a voice that sends chills down any person’s spine. a total hunk. he’s got nice taste too.

you haven’t interacted with keisuke much. barely at all, actually. you’ve seen him once or twice. he’s not someone close to you. not someone as easy to talk to as mikey’s other friends. you’ve never had any relations with him, neither conflict nor a tender moment. he was just… there. always in the corner of your eye, always somewhere in your line of sight. 

that shouldn’t matter much. it wouldn’t have. you’ve seen a great deal of good-looking men in your life — not a single one quite as unique and appealing as he is, but… attractive still. there was certainly something special about keisuke, no doubt. you felt a sense of exhilaration when he came by. possibly the fact he can snap your spine in a heartbeat if he so wished.

i’d tell you he would never do that. that he’d never be cruel to you, but he would be. he has been. he is.

after the first time you met, he started lingering. you saw him far more often, he was like a phantom. right in your vicinity, just out of reach. you thought your interaction with him would go nowhere, he’d leave you alone and forget about your existence for the rest of his days.

but he didn’t. in fact, he approached you. multiple times. and it got nastier. every. single. day.

he’d shove past you, not even bothering to apologise. you weren’t the first person he’d look at in a room — you didn’t realise it so. the way he’d speak to you, condescendingly and sharp as if you’re some nuisance, it hurt. he’d roll his eyes the instant you open your mouth and he took a sick amount of pleasure in seeing that dumbstruck, disappointed look on your pretty face. 

conversations with him were short. they always left your mind bleeding, racing. he was unpredictable. you wanted to figure him out. you had to. but it was so difficult, because keisuke is not as simple a man as most would think.

 his subtle torment on you started the third or fourth time you’d met. you were with a few mutual friends, hanging out and having a decent time. keisuke went to get some drinks for everyone and he’d purposefully spilled yours on your clothes, apologising so half-assedly that mikey himself was a little shocked he’d be so impolite to a girl.

what no one realised at the time was that keisuke wanted a glimpse of 

you. sure, he’d stalked you a little before, but he hadn’t seen your bra in such a… lewd fashion. he just wanted to humiliate you as well. ‘what a slut,’ he’d think, ‘wearin’ a bra like that in front of everyone. who the fuck does she think she is?’

and as soon as that thought clicked in his head, he knew something.

he felt far too amused at your suffering. it made his heart which many thought to be good, skip a beat. he couldn’t bring himself to feel remorse for it.

that look of embarrassment on your face, the shame. he needed to see more. he had to recreate it.

so he did, over and over, with new methods each time, until one day… he had the perfect leverage.

you were hooking up with some guy. unnamed, a loser no one gave a shit about. he wasn’t the point of attention, however. you were. and keisuke just had to grab this opportunity it, hold it over your head. the guy was recording. you really were such a slut, letting him do that with no qualms. no smarts at all, how naive. although seeing you have something so intimate with another person annoyed keisuke beyond belief, the bliss of having something to blackmail you with and get you to do favours in exchange was absolutely intoxicating.

once that lame session was done and over with, the idiot left your house and never came by again. keisuke jumped him somewhere you no one could see, beat him bloody and snatched the recorder right out of his ugly little hands. he told him, “i’ll break your fuckin’ fingers if you don’t shut the fuck up,” and the man complied, but keisuke broke them anyway. he made quite sure he wouldn’t be ratted out.

now, he knew how to initiate this new level to your so-called bond. he’d never been to your place before — actually, he did, you just never knew. what? can’t a guy check up on his favourite plaything? give him a break.

you came to your room with a deafening shriek, panic overtaking your entire body at the sight of that brute leaning against your windowsill and listening to… porn..? with the most nonchalant expression on his stern face. he didn’t even flinch at your scream. you swore you could’ve passed out from pure fear that day.

“how the fuck did you find my house?!”

“you’re actually such a loser. you still own this many plushies? if i lose hearing ‘cause of your dumb little mouth i’m gonna snap you in two ‘n rip your stuffed animals in half next, so shut up and c’mere.”

you obeyed, anxiety and terror dripping off of your frame. that made the corners of his mouth twitch.

with an indifferent air to his movements, he turned up the volume to the max just to fuck with you some more, and showed you the video playing on his phone.

your heart dropped.

you, buried in the sheets, moaning like a whore. he caught that on video. keisuke baji caught that on video — the man who has been dying to have some form of leverage on you, he fucking had the video! you knew you shouldn’t have trusted that bastard you had sex with!

“pfft… you moan so loud, goddamn. surprised your neighbours didn’t complain to ya. you don’t have any standards, huh?”

“how— how did you get that video?”

his lips curled into a sneer at your obvious question. “how do you think, dumbfuck?”

you swallowed shakily. he almost cooed at how your glittery lips quivered, how tears made your lovely eyes shine.

“what’re you gonna do with it? w-what do you want from me?”

“hah,” he snorted, smiling for only a second before dropping it. “asking a good question for once, that’s surprising. got your brains fucked back into you by that loser? i need ya to do a couple things for me.”

he suddenly tugged at the ends of your hair, balling your tresses up in his fist. you whimpered at the sharp sting of pain, and he smiled cruelly. his face lowered above yours, breaths mixing.

“you’re gonna get on that bed and let me fuck your brains right back outta you like a good girl.”

after that night, he basically treated you like his personal servant. except, he didn’t make you do much for him. “don’t touch my shit. don’t want your filthy self staining my belongings, you got that?” he’d claim. 

how he thanked all that was holy for the invention of cameras and sextapes. he could make you do just about anything for him and you’d have to oblige because you don’t want anyone seeing your pure facade shatter. keisuke knew from firsthand experience that you were just a slut at your very core, and he never forgot to remind you.

he’d be so brash. in the middle of spending time with your friends, he’d practically grab you by the scruff of your neck. “oi, guys. need this dumbass for a bit,” he’d harden his tone while speaking to you next, “come with me.”

you’d have no choice but to follow along, acknowledging the pitiful glances a couple of the guys would send you. and in the following minutes, you’d find yourself on your knees in the middle of a dirty alleyway, choking on the raven-haired devil’s pierced cock like it was the last thing you’d eat. what a mess he’d turned you into, over the span of just a few weeks. you couldn’t comprehend the gratification that only you could give him. no one else could hold a goddamn candle to you. keisuke’s favourite toy, but he’d rather skin himself than admit it. he had a reputation to hold up and a pretty girl to torture, after all.

he’d rarely be gentle with you, if ever. he fucked you behind a toman meeting spot once, while the gathering was going on. up against the grimy wall or bent over his bike, you couldn’t quite remember. both, you think. you’re not sure because your brain was so fuzzy from how full he made you feel. he certainly had the size to back up his audacity. he was hissing at you to keep quiet, but didn’t even bother covering your mouth. no, his greedy hands were occupied with your tits, manhandling and fondling like they were made of dough. to him, they basically were.

he hadn’t taken you out on any dates. if it was ever just the two of you, it was going to be a hook-up, with a mind-numbing amount of pain and pleasure. usually, he’d come to your house, with or without your permission. he’d fuck you until you’re weeping as much as your pussy is, lick at your tears and spit in your mouth. he stayed over once or twice, laughed to himself at how you went out of your way to make him pancakes in the morning. even when he was treating you like a grain of dirt underneath his boot, you were so sweet. it was so cute. especially when he called your cooking disgusting but still proceeded to wolf it down. after that, he asked — forced — you to cook breakfast for him each time he’d come over. 

it left you with a mess of emotions every time you saw him in your abode. he looked out of place but made himself right at home. seeing him brushing his teeth with your toothbrush in the morning, clad in just some low-hanging sweatpants and a goddamn cross necklace shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. you scolded him, only barely keeping arousal out of your angry tone. he didn’t give a shit, though. don’t think he doesn’t notice the way you stare at his massive arms.

one of his favourite things to do every time he came over was pin you to the counter as soon as you were done or while you were cooking. especially when it was for him. did you really expect keisuke baji not to fuck you on the counter when you were dressed in such provocative clothes, let alone cooking for him like you’re his wife? he hates that idea, and at the same time wants it badly. you’re so frustratingly cute.

he doesn’t visit you much, though. you look forward to meeting him to the point it’s pathetic, and you hate yourself for it. what’s so damn good about being fucked by some burly, mean delinquent with long black hair, and a broad frame, and… an entrancing caramel gaze, and… and a sickeningly good rhythm and a voice that— oh, stop it! you can’t be swooning for a goddamn bully like him!

 when you’re out and about, keisuke barely even acknowledges you. he doesn’t look at you when you’re talking, maybe an occasional roll of his eyes, but he’ll practically ignore your existence unless he wants to humiliate you in a different way. he’ll even pretend to forget your name sometimes.

“hey, baji, have you seen [name] anywhere?”

“who?”

“[name], are— are you not friends with her?”

“nah. don’t know who that is.”

“i’m here!”

“[name]! thank goodness, i was looking for you.”

“oh, this [name]. should’ve specified it was her. the dumb chick who can’t seem to keep her ass under her skirt.”

“excuse me?”

“hm?”

“uh… i-i’m just gonna go. [name], mikey needs you. he’s over there.”

it makes your blood boil, how keisuke so openly degrades you. and at the same time, you can’t get enough of it. 

you can’t get enough of how he’ll keep a vibrator inside your panties and have the remote expertly tucked in his pocket while you’re having dinner with your friends. the pink object is nestled perfectly against your clit, and you’re struggling not to roll your eyes back. keisuke, the asshole he is, will turn up the settings too high for comfort as soon as you try joining the conversation. you’ll never have a good day with this man around. he won’t reveal a damn thing, too, so everyone except him is concerned about you when you’re trying so hard to hold in your moans.

one night he’ll have his face buried between your tits, filthy groans erupting from his mouth as he drills into your soaking cunt, the next afternoon he’ll shove his broad shoulder against yours with enough force to make you trip and not give you a damn glance afterward. you don’t know it, but his eyes are actually trained on you all the time. he’s just got incredible instinct and a poker face.

he’ll kick your legs apart and flip your skirt up out of nowhere, take you on his bike and drive too fast for your poor heart to handle. when you show any fear during that death ride, he’ll scoff and call you a pussy. in reality, he just craves the way you cling onto him so tightly. like he’s your lifeline, which he is when you’re on the verge of crashing on his motorcycle.

you can’t tell if he’s repulsed by you or wants you. it’s a terrifying mixture of both, you bring out the sadist in him and he’s not going to deny himself of that pleasure. he’s not a monk, for fuck’s sake. he’ll take what he want, whether you like it or not. he’s got a hunch you do, considering the way you stare at him with the most intoxicating look of fear and desire and look away the instant he catches you. 

stupid, stupid girl. thinking you’re so slick. he knows you far too well. he knows when you’re flustered, when you’re trying to defy him and failing miserably, knows how to draw tears from you and he knows how to hit that sweet spot in your pussy over and over until you make his wide back bleed with scratches. he’ll smack you for leaving them, informing you that he’s not your boyfriend and you shouldn’t leave marks on him like he is, but the way he wears them like a badge of honor contradicts him fully. his hypocrisy pissed you off so badly because he leaves bruises and bites on you all the time, and he doesn’t see you complaining about it, does he? well… he does. but unlike him, you can’t do a damn thing about it. you’ll just have to take it all like a champ because you’re his now. that knowledge makes your heart ache, and… maybe between your legs, too.

© all rights reserved. 𓏲ּ🍒

[nite-puff]

this was what their dr:s interaction was originally gonna be. trust me. i’m mr. danganronpa

(no cuz seriously. how are you gonna have them interact and then forget that hiroko canonically has a bit of a thing for takaaki?) (i say this like the dr:s writers even knew who the other captives were)

[hirokiyuu]

look at my alternate yuu concept boy

[bitegore]

baru cormorant seems to me to be a series that suffers miserably for me having read machineries of empire first. unfortunately everything BC is doing strikes me as something MoE did better and more believably and with much a greater and more grounded eye for how systems, complex system interaction, and oppression like. work

[skrunksthatwunk]

still thinking about how one of my first yyh meta posts got reblogged onto an sjw cringe comp blog in the year of our woke 2022. truly tumblr dot com, the last bastion of progressivism, has fallen (<- sarcasm) and also i'm kinda baffled that they didn't choose like. me putting yusuke in a skirt or something

[squuote]

i need to draw my narrator design like a lot. i need to draw him to death or until i truly get sick of this guy. proper narrator burnout

[mccleans]

there was a moment during today's arsenal game when i wanted to be like, team, wake up! you're all looking sleepy and lazy and slow! but then randomly remembered your post being like, look, they get enough hate and i don't want to be that to them, and it just made me realize that, yeah, me too. anyway, your kindness is so powerful and i hope you know what a source of light you are in the world 💖

me reading this right now at 4am

[riddlesmoon]

dol ocs and how they view sex cuz im boredddd (i should be sleeping goddamn)

💦 -> enjoys it, but doesnt crave it. casual, no commitment, slips away in the morning like sand water through your fingers

🌙 -> unintentional voyeur to a lot of the towns misdeeds. doesnt really care tho, only has the spoons to keep 💦 safe. no desire

🔥 -> fights to have control. easily aroused and hates it. thinks he would be happy with someone to push around in a sadistic way, and shrivels up at the mention of 'love' and anything fluffy [put off by kylar because of this]

☀️ -> 🔥 wants her to stay innocent but she already knows everything that goes on, more than him. unintentional voyeur 2 whoops. tho unlike 🌙, she sees more than the towns darkness, so she stays hopeful

🌪 -> sacred. like the great hawk, only wants to find one mate. very insecure tho and does not actually believe she will

🪨 -> views it as an act of nature... much like eating or drinking. or pissing

🦋 -> very typical. likes it in general. likes it more when its with someone she has feelings for. but she doesnt want to stay with just one person. closer to the source of the pink flowers than she realises [my own made up au for now idk what vrel has planned]

[trans-poppy]

ohhhhhhh my god. ohhhhhhh my god. ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god.

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

word count \ 3.7k | fluff & stuff | slash / mattheo riddle x reader

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo) author's note at the end!

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[prythianpages]

A Light That Never Goes Out | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's sister (reader) | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares.

warnings: angry Rhys, angry High Lord, brief mention of Tamsand, mating bond snapping

word count: roughly 3K, around 3.5K if you read the bonus scene

a/n: This is a part two to this but can be read as a stand alone. I had fun writing this but I worry this sounded better in my head. I was tempted to turn this into a crack fic bc of this trending tiktok sound.

Azriel kisses you, consequences be damned. His hand slides from yours to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. You kiss him back with the same intensity, years of longing and love pouring into this single moment. Your mind and thoughts tangling with his, the bond between you surging with emotion. Desire and hope. He’s still in disbelief that tonight was the first night he told you he loved you.

But in truth, Azriel had been telling you all along—in every glance, every touch, every kiss that held more than words ever could.

Azriel’s shadows recoil as the two of you pull apart, breathless. The Court of Nightmares had faded away, the two of you lost in each other. It’s just you and him, as it is meant to be…Until the distinctive footsteps of your father approaching echoes throughout the ballroom. Your eyes are wide, too many emotions swirling within their depths. 

But Azriel is relieved that regret is not one of them.

“Azriel.”

The High Lord’s voice is calm and collected but the fury flickering in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He stands no more than two feet away, the authority radiating from him as cold as it is absolute. Beside him, Rhysand watches, his expression unreadable. 

Your father lifts a hand, wisps of darkness and starlight spilling from his fingertips. The orchestra resumes under the silent command and driven by some invisible force, the guests resume dancing and drinking. As if nothing had happened. 

“Come with me,” your father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His command is directed solely at Azriel. “I’d like to have a word.”

 You try to hold on to Azriel, to keep him close, but he slips his fingers from yours, bowing his head in quiet submission to your father. Without another word, he follows after him. And though his command had been directed solely at Azriel, the weight of the situation falls on the both of you. 

So you step forward, determined to follow after them. But just as you step outside the ballroom, Rhysand grasps your arm, forcing you to a stop.

“You stupid, foolish…,” his voice trails off in frustration. “What have you done?”

You spin on him, eyes flashing with anger as you yank your arm out of his hold. “What have I done? What about what have you done? Planning marriage alliances behind my back? Like I’m some pawn on your chessboard?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens for a brief moment. “Y/n, I–”

“No.” You interrupt sharply, starlight beginning to swirl from the fingertip you point at him. You don’t want to hear his excuse, whatever justification he thinks will make this right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cassian and Mor making their way toward you, slipping through the dancing couples and out of the ballroom. 

The starlight seeping from your fingertip glows brighter, ready and poised to attack. However, it’s your words you speak into his mind that make the blow instead.

“You know, if you love that runt from Spring so much, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing as the meaning of your words hit him. The revelation that you know his secret. Where he’d sneak off to some nights. Why the scent of crisp rain and earth lingered on him when he’d return. You and Azriel had pieced it together after Cassian had mentioned that his book on Illyrian training and methods suddenly went missing. Given your secret, you and Azriel had kept that information to yourselves, waiting for the moment Rhysand would feel comfortable to tell you himself. 

It takes him a moment to regain his composure, for his gaze to harden again. His lips curl into a snarl–a warning.  “Y/n.”

He leans in forward but you take a step back and winnow away, only one thing on your mind. Finding Azriel.

**

The walk to the High Lord’s private office in the Court of Nightmares is silent but the sense of foreboding is nearly deafening. Azriel is tense, his shadows quiet and burrowing into his leathers. Too many possibilities and consequences storm through his mind, each one more damning than the last.

Does he regret kissing you in front of everyone? No.

That kiss was the first honest, uninhibited thing he’d allowed himself to do in years. It was freeing, exhilarating to be able to show everyone, especially the sons of Spring and Autumn that you were his and he was yours. He could face death for this—for touching the High Lord’s daughter. For kissing you so openly, so brazenly, in front of the entire court.

But why? Why should it be so wrong for him to love you? Because of his birth? The scars of his past that marked him as unworthy? He’s served loyally. Bled for this court.Tortured for this court. 

He’s watched from the shadows as lords and sons, full of false charm, have circled you like vultures, eyeing you as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.  And yet, when he—who knows you, who cherishes you—shows his love, it is considered a crime.

It isn’t fair. But Azriel has never been afforded fairness. 

The heavy doors to the High Lord's office swing open with a wave of his hand, and Azriel steps inside. The air is thick with tension, and every muscle in his body tightens. The High Lord gestures for him to sit, but Azriel bows his head, respectfully declining. Standing feels safer. Less vulnerable. He wonders if his refusal will anger the High Lord further, but the single shadow curling at his ear reports no rising fury.

He can feel the weight of the High Lord’s gaze—it’s heavy, scrutinizing, like the cold press of a blade against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, even though his heart pounds in his chest. If there’s punishment to be had, Azriel will accept it.

The High Lord moves to his desk, positioned beneath an oculus, where moonlight spills through and dances across his features. He gazes up at the starlit sky as if searching for answers—or perhaps, waiting.

“Normally, this is the part where people like you should be begging for forgiveness, for a way to rectify your mistake.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “I haven’t made a mistake.”

“No?” The High Lord’s gaze snaps back to him, piercing as if he could peel away Azriel’s very skin to lay bare his soul. Azriel wonders, for a brief moment, if your daemati powers had been inherited from your father. Could the High Lord see into his mind, his thoughts? Have kept this power to himself all these years as a secret weapon? 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” the High Lord continues, his tone sharpening. “Tell me, how long has this... affair been going on?”

“For decades.” Azriel admits, knowing that there was no use in lying. The truth was already written in the way he kissed you, in the way he looked at you as you broke away from the kiss.

“For decades?” The High Lord repeats, his expression darkening, violet eyes narrowing. “You took my daughter’s first dance tonight of all nights.”

Azriel’s silence says everything. Both of them aware that Azriel had taken more than dances, more than a kiss.

“You’ve taken her innocence. You’ve ruined her…” The High Lord continues to seethe in that cool, unnerving tone.

Azriel’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his dagger. Not to defend himself, but because it’s his only comfort in moments like these.

But this is not a battle to be fought with daggers or swords. This is a battle of love, of politics, of status. One he’s had no training for yet one he’s willing to fight. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fight against all odds.

“Whether she marries Spring or Autumn, she will become a lady of the highest esteem and forge a strong alliance with my court. Laden with all the riches and wonders only a High Lord can offer. What can you offer? You don’t even have a proper last name to give her, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel swallows thickly, the weight and shame of his low-born status crashing into him like the violent current of Illyria’s river. It feels like he’s sinking under it, drowning in it. He knows he can’t offer you what any son of Spring or Autumn could. He had reminded you of that—again and again. 

It’s as if you can feel his doubts creeping back in, the poison of guilt and worthlessness seeping in. Your presence—soft, warm, and steady—enters his mind. You bring forth the memory you had shared with him moments ago on the dance floor again.

“I can’t give you much,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours, his lips hovering just over your own. “But I can give you everything I have.”

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you had replied, the words echoing now in his mind, like an antidote to the venom of doubt. That’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all—

“I asked you a question, Azriel.” The High Lord’s sharp voice cut through the memory, yanking him back to the cold, oppressive reality of the Court of Nightmares. “What can you offer in exchange for my daughter?”

Azriel’s knees buckle beneath him before he even realizes it. He drops to the floor, bowing his head low. His shadows stir, swirling around him in a frenzy, urging him to stand. To stop him.

“My life.”

“Your life,” The High Lord muses. He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “You love my daughter enough to give your life for her?”

“Yes,” Azriel says, his voice firm and steady, even as his shadows coil tighter around his arms, trying to pull him back from this path. But he stays rooted to the floor. His life, his soul—it all belongs to you anyway. What was it worth, if not to protect you? To be yours?

The High Lord’s eyes narrow as he studies the swirling shadows, dark and restless, wrapping themselves around Azriel’s form. Shadowsingers are rare. Their power is precious. They can see and hear things others can’t. The only known living one kneels before him now. 

Despite his low born status, the Shadowsinger had also proved himself a formidable, Illyrian warrior. A Carynthian. It’s why he appointed Azriel as the Night Court’s spymaster.  

And now this powerful and strong male is offering his life.

To have a Shadowsinger as his spymaster is rare, a gift in itself. To have Azriel’s loyalty, his strength, his skills bound by magic for life. A weapon of mass destruction, at his beck and call. No room for betrayal, no worry over him leaving his court for another.

 All in exchange for your hand in marriage? 

Now, that sounds like a deal.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, voicing his consideration. He could give Azriel a title, raise him from his bastard status. At his will, darkness begins to rise from the floor. The power of the bargain hovers in the air between them, ready to etch itself into both their skins. 

 Azriel finally lifts his head, meeting the High Lord’s eyes with no fear. Only the light of determination. He is willing to give his life to your father if that’s what it takes to be by your side. 

The cloud of darkness begins to separate, its dark tendrils moving toward him, the binding magic poised to seal his fate, to chain him to this bargain for the rest of his life.

But before it can touch his skin, before the deal can be made, a bright light erupts in the room. A sharp hiss escapes the darkness as it recoils, retreating back into the shadows where it had come from. Azriel’s own shadows seem to shudder in relief.

Both Azriel and the High Lord’s heads snap toward the source of the light. You stand at the doors, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, your hands glowing with pure, raging starlight.

“No!” you cry, the word trembling on your lips as you step forward, the glow around you growing even brighter. 

Your eyes lock with Azriel’s and something tightens in his chest, crawling up his rib cage. It’s sharp and breathtaking. His hand grabs at his chest and yours does the same. 

”He will not be your slave,” you say, turning to your father with the same determination flashing in your eyes. “There has to be another way.”

The High Lord’s features morph into a scowl. “Another way? My star, he is a bastard—”

“I love him!” 

That tightening in his chest finally snaps and Azriel’s breath catches. He feels that light in your eyes, perfectly reflecting the one in his. It sears into his soul, as fierce and unrelenting as the starlight glowing from your hands.

Your father doesn’t notice the shift in the air, the change in Azriel’s posture, in his chest. Or in yours.

“You think that means anything?” 

Azriel’s shadows whisper a warning into his ears, of an oncoming raging darkness. Different but similar to the High Lord’s. He barely hears his shadows, too focused on you, on the bond thrumming between you. His mind is consumed with you. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“You and mother—” you begin.

“Do you think your mother and I love each other?” The High Lord interrupts sharply, his voice cold and cutting. He breaks out into a laugh.

Azriel snaps out of his trance. Anger flares within him at the shock, the devastation that takes over your features. He watches as you shrink back slightly, his instincts roaring to protect you from any harm, whether verbal or otherwise. 

Because he’s your mate. Because he loves you.

 “You think I would marry your mother, a low born seamstress by choice? What your mother and I have is different. It’s complicated. A special bond.  One that gave me Rhysand and you and–”

A sound like thunder crashes through the room, reverberating off the stone walls as darkness swells in every corner. One moment, Azriel is on his knees. The next, he’s slamming into the cold marble floor, the force of Rhysand’s power pinning him down. Tendrils of Rhysand’s darkness coil around Azriel’s form, fighting with the shadows that instinctively rise to defend him.

“How long?” Rhysand's violet eyes blaze as they burn into Azriel.

“And I am beginning to think you both are nuisances to my existence rather than gifts...” The High Lord mutters followed by an exhausted sigh.

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” His words are a snarl as he slams Azriel harder into the floor, advancing toward him with clenched fists.

“Rhysand!” You let out a cry, rushing to the two males to separate them.

Your brother whips around, his anger igniting into something fiercer at the sight of you. “Stay out of this!” he snaps, his hand raising. He’s too angry, too heated. So much that he doesn't even notice the force of darkness he aims your way.

Rhysand’s magic hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked gasp escapes as you stumble backward, struggling to keep your footing. A burst of bright sapphire explodes from each of Azriel’s siphons, a deep and low growl rumbling from his chest. He breaks free from Rhysand’s magic, standing to his feet. His wings flare behind him, shadows swirling like a storm.

The look in his hazel eyes is nothing short of feral, dark and ancient, a fierce and possessive glint that makes Rhysand falter and surprise flash across the High Lord’s features.

You fall to the ground with a thud, palms scraping against the stone and pain flaring in your hands. Rhysand turns toward you, the anger that had been simmering in his violet gaze immediately dissolving into guilt and regret. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel growls, standing in between you and your brother, his shadows forming in an additional protective barrier. Some shadows flutter toward you, helping you stand and bringing you to Azriel’s side. Your hand instinctively seeks Azriel’s, fingers curling into his and you squeeze it, letting him know you’re alright. 

“By the Cauldron…” the High Lord’s voice comes out in a low murmur, his gaze darting between you and Azriel. His eyes narrow as he finally notices the subtle shift in the air, in your scents. The scent of a bond. 

“You two are mates,” he says, tone laced with resignation. Because even he, a High Lord, is not above going against The Cauldron.

It feels like a punch to the gut for Rhysand. His best friend and his sister. Fate’s inevitable design had been right under his nose all along. “What?” Rhysand breathes in shock, chest still heaving from the exertion of his magic.

Azriel’s hand tightens around yours. His gaze softens as he turns to you, the fierce protectiveness from earlier easing into something gentler. And when your eyes meet again, it’s there—the unmistakable light of the mating bond. It shines bright and steady between you. Just like your love for each other does.

 A light that never goes out.

bonus scene

Once the shock of the bond had worn off, the High Lord excused himself, muttering about damage control. “Spring will be the hardest to deal with,” he had said.

Rhysand’s body tensed as his eyes found yours. But you’d only given him a small, reassuring smile. Though it is something you would like to talk about, his secret would remain safe with you.

Your father would soon announce the bond to the Court of Nightmares, already making plans for a grand mating ceremony. You’d much rather have something private, intimate. But a public celebration seemed like a small price to pay for the lifetime you’d get to spend beside the male you loved.

Rhysand turned his gaze back to Azriel, his expression still unreadable. “You never answered my question,” he said, voice calm but edged with something darker. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated before answering, unlike the way he had with the High Lord. This was his best friend standing in front of him. The one he grew up and trained along with, survived the brutality of the Blood Rite with. Rhysand was like a brother to him and he went behind his back for years.

 “A decade.”

“A decade?” Rhysand blinks in surprise. 

A whole decade of secrecy. Of Azriel sneaking around with his little sister. It all made sense now. Why Azriel became more reserved, more private. Why Azriel no longer indulged himself with the pleasures of the females at Rita’s or the Illyrian camps like he and Cassian did. Why you spent more time at the Moonstone palace, instead of the House of Wind, where you had grown up and been raised by a handful of Priestesses. It hadn’t been to learn about the politics of the courts but to be closer to Azriel.

And then, with no warning, Rhysand swings.

The hit lands squarely on Azriel’s jaw, so swift and unexpected that neither you nor Azriel’s shadows had seen it coming. Azriel takes the blow without protest, silently commanding his shadows to stand their ground and not fight back. 

“Rhys!” you snapped, your brows furrowing into a scowl. 

Rhysand huffs, shaking out his hand from the impact. “That’s for going behind my back,” he says. He pauses for a second and then, he lets out a low chuckle. Full of disbelief and relief.

“I’m still angry at both of you,” Rhysand admits, and Azriel lowers his head, bracing for more. “Not because it’s you—though I’ll admit, seeing you together is... strange. But because you kept it from me for so long, putting both of your lives at risk.”

Then Rhysand’s voice softens, his gaze following. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

Azriel lifts his head back up in surprise as Rhysand holds out his hand.

 “You’re a good male, Azriel. Better than most. And I know you’ll protect her. Love her in a way no one else can.”

Azriel stares at Rhysand’s outstretched hand before finally clasping it, the tension between them easing. Your chest warms at your brother’s sincerity.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and hurried, echo through the stone walls. They grow louder with each passing second and moments later, Cassian and Mor appear at the entrance of your father’s study. Cassian braces himself against the doorframe and Mor leans on him, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

It’s clear they’re winded from the endless stairs they must’ve taken to reach the floor of your father’s private study. It was located between the Court of Nightmares and Moonstone Palace, warded so that only those of his bloodline could winnow directly inside.

Their eyes dart between the three of you. 

“What did we miss?”

a/n: hope you enjoyed! here’s a little HC (idk what to call it?) of Rhys’s sis & Az if you’re curious 💙

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry, @tothestarsandwhateverend, @tulipbite, @kylaisra, @stressed-reader

[disasterofastory]

mountainmen!141 x Reader

Let's say you leave the city behind to rent a small cabin in the middle of the woods you found on the internet under the name of John Price.

Let's say you meet him for the first time when you get to the cabin. He waits for you to give you the keys and show you around. He mentions that they live nearby, at the other end of a narrow path winding through the trees.

Let's say you call him because you can't shut the bedroom window, but instead of John, a man named Johnny shows up. His accent is thick, and his words are sometimes hard to follow, but he fixes the window for you.

Let's say you go over to them after a few days with some cookies. When you get there, you meet Kyle, who invites you in for tea. He explains that the others have gone into town to pick up supplies for the approaching storm.

Let's say when the storm finally hits, it's worse than expected. Simon comes over to check on you, making sure you are safe in the cabin.

and maybe maybe

Let's say looks can mislead. Here they are, buff, handsome men, living together in the middle of the woods. You'd think they could have any woman they wanted, right?

But why are they here then, isolated like this?

I will tell you why.

Despite their successful military careers, their personal lives have always been a mess.

John? Divorced. Twice. His job and his loyalty to his men team always came first. His marriages didn't last long. His wives left when they realized they would never be his priority.

Simon doesn't talk much. Stoic to a fault. It's hard to build a relationship when you barely say a word. He is great under pressure, but dating? A whole different battlefield.

Kyle? He learned early that his looks are more of a curse than a blessing. No one ever trusted him. His partners always thought he'd cheat. He's charming, fun, and smart, so why would a guy like him settle for just one person when it seems like he could have anyone?

And Johnny, poor Johnny. He's never been with a woman. People say he's too clingy, too much in every way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and not everyone can handle that.

But now, you are in the picture too, aren't you?

[reinreingoawayy]

— before i could kiss you again

part i | part ii | part iii

a longer version of this

sae itoshi x f!reader | slight(?) language | kissing

wc: 1.3k

it was never your intention to kiss the sae itoshi.

it was supposed to be a fun one-week vacation for you in madrid. but circumstances happened and changed when you accidentally met your ex. now, the fun you’re supposedly going to have turned into an unbearable nightmare of trying to run away from his obnoxious ass. you have no intentions of talking or making peace with him especially when the reason for your falling apart was because of a cheating incident a few months ago. many people would know that you give zero fucks about cheating, including him, so when he asked you to get back to him, you scoffed the life out of you and thought he was kidding. and now, you are kissing the most famous sae itoshi in re al’s home stadium, right after their big game against fc barcha, in front of all the cameras, even probably in all spain or even in front of the whole world.

you first met sae on a flight going to Madrid. it was a very rare occasion for you to get upgraded to business class, so when the flight attendant asked you if you wanted to move to a business class seat, you didn’t have to think twice and said yes. you were seated next to the magenta-haired man with weird hair physics who was wearing a black sleeping mask while an ongoing football game was playing on his big screen. before, you didn't know who sae itoshi was. sure, you've heard about his name, and how he is japan's greatest treasure, but it has never occurred to you to know more about him. you didn't know what he looked like or whatever. all you know was that he is, apparently, good at playing football and that he plays in a professional football league in spain.

so when you saw him play, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the man from the plane was the same man your coworkers were crazy about. and when he struck a breathtaking goal that opened the door for re al’s victory near the end of the game, and everyone was rejoicing in re al’s home stadium, you couldn’t help but also join the crowd. hell, you didn’t even know what was going on. when they started chanting his name, you saw him waving his hand up, hyping the crowd to make the chanting louder. there’s a burning passion in his teal eyes as he continues to hype up the people and as his teammates give him a supportive slap on his back.

it was a fleeting moment of exhilarating joy especially when you realized that your ex was just sitting behind you. you don’t even know why he was there right now. as far as you know, your ex never really cared about football, like you before, so you were confused about why would he be there. when you started walking away from your seat, you heard him call your name but you pretended you didn’t hear. he kept calling your name, it was getting annoying. you thought you were clear before that you would never ever give second chances to someone who messed up, especially when the issue was infidelity. when you reach the entrance to the tunnel, you finally face him.

“i do not give a fuck if you want to explain. you cheated, saw it with my own eyes, and that was enough for me. we’re done. now if you could please stop calling my name, there’s someone waiting for me,” you said, with annoyance traced in your voice with every word you spat. you don’t really know who would be that someone waiting for you, all you wanted was to escape from his obnoxious and ridiculous begging. you turned your back again, but this time you felt his hand, grabbing your wrist.

“can you please let go?” you asked. you tried to be polite and civil but it seems like he’s been pushing his limits already.

“please, here me out fi—”

“what’s going on here?” you both look at the owner of the voice and for some reason, you sense a relief in your veins. you removed your ex’s hand from your wrist and gingerly approached sae itoshi. he looks so much better up close with those teal eyes, intently looking at yours, deciphering what’s going on in your head with the way you look at him. he may or may not remember you because you barely interact during that flight except when he lends you his moisturizer because you forgot to bring it. it also looks like he just finished his interview since the cameras are still following him. you’re fucked, you thought. they’re still probably airing and other people may be witnessing what is about to happen.

“sae…i was just about to find you!” you said with a forced smile on your face. you continued approaching him and stopped when you are just one step away from him.

you prayed a million times of sorries in your head before you went ahead and held the side of his face, tiptoeing, before placing your lips against his. you heard audible gasps from the people, a lot of camera clicks, and a bunch of ‘oh my gods,’ when you kissed him. it was usually a normal sight for them to see a football player kiss their significant other but sae itoshi was different. he doesn’t have any dating rumors and has never been linked to anyone so it’s a surprise to other people to see him kiss someone—or rather to see someone kiss him—out in the open like this. he was unmoved when you kissed him and all you could think of was, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ and was ready to pull away but you felt his hand on the small of your back and started responding to your kiss.

your head was spinning and spinning, your thoughts were incoherent, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still and silent. his lips were soft against yours and you’d be lying if you thought it wasn’t slightly addicting. you felt him pull away for a second, shifting his head’s angle before diving in again with his lips with renewed intensity. his kisses tasted like mint and strawberries, probably from the electrolyte drink he was drinking before. you felt his hand on your hips as your hand traveled to his slightly damped hair.

someone cleared their throat and pulled you both in reality. you quickly pulled away but stood close, not wanting to see what was waiting around you. and then a flash of light came flashing in and your heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode. he was quick you block most of your face with his hand on the second wave of flashing before making his body as your shield from all the camera shots. he took off his jacket before putting it around your shoulders, gesturing to his manager to accompany you out of the pitch and into the locker room. before you can fully exit the pitch, you look back and see him approach your ex, muttering some words. you’re not good at reading lips but you could’ve sworn he said something along the lines of, ‘…my girl.’

•••

the whole stadium was in chaos, but sae itoshi didn’t care. when you were already far enough to not hear the words he’s about to say, he made his way to your ex’s.

“please stop bothering my girl. i’m only going to ask once,” he said before leaving the pitch.

when he got to the locker room you were in, waiting, he closed the door and stood in front of you.

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t need apologies. i need explanations,” he said, cutting you off.

you nodded.

“now explain, before i could kiss you again.”

•••

[bluetimeombre]

You, Oscar and Hugh

You and Hugh have stared in the most talked about movie of the year, so, for the biggest night in Hollywood, the two of you are all people can talk about.

[based on the request for oscars night. I had so much fun writing this!!!! genuinely, how Hugh didn't even get a nomination for Logan is a crime! I'm working on another request for Logan and I've got like dozens of drafts but I loved this and wanted to get it out, I hope you enjoy!]

The Oscars- Hollwood's most prestigious event. Neither Hugh, nor you were strangers to the hall. Hugh had not only been nominated but even hosted and you had been nominated and performed.

But this was new. Both of you had worked hard for your nominations. You and Hugh had been on opposite ends, he was the X-man, the Wolverine while you had been staring in Marvel movies since the very beginning, a friendly rivalry becoming of the two of you which came to fruition when you both stared in 'Deadpool and Wolverine.'

Now, the two of you were in the drama everyone had been talking about- mainly because it featured the hollywood couple. Hugh was nominated for best supporting actor while you had a nomination for best actress in a leading rule.

The camera's flashed as Hugh walked the carpet, alone. Everyone noted that fact. They'd assumed you would be on his arm but there was no sign of you.

He followed his agent as he led him to the row of interviewer's calling his name.

'First of all, I wanted to say congratulations on your nomination, your second nomination!' said the interviewer.

Hugh was all smiles, dapper in his sleek black suit and tie. 'Thank you, man, thank you.'

'So, what's going through your head at a time like this?'

'Honestly, not a lot. There's- there's almost too much to think about that I can't think of anything at all,' he chuckled.

'Are you proud of this movie?' he asked.

'I've never been prouder of a project before, and there's so many reasons why. Maybe that's obvious,' he grinned, thinking of one reason he was incredibly happy to be celebrating this movie. 'Not only does it touch on subjects that need to be touched on more, but we had an incredible direction, an amazing writing team and the rest of the cast.'

The interviewer gave him a knowing smile. 'By cast, are we-'

He didn't even have to finish before Hugh was closing his eyes and nodding. 'Oh yeah.'

Almost as if that was a cue, the yelling and flashing of the camera's intensified as many people turned to look.

'Oh, who's here?' asked Hugh, peaking over peoples heads until he saw. 'Oh.'

You stepped out the car like a star from old hollywood as you waved at the cameras and gave them your dazzling smile. You, like him, were dressed all in sleek black, looking effortlessly beautiful as you took to the carpet.

'There she is, the woman of the hour!' cheered the interviewer.

'Of every hour,' said Hugh, the microphone just picking it up. 'Pleasure to talk to you, man.' He hardly waited for a reply before he was making his way as casually as possible across the carpet to you.

You couldn't hear anything over the yelling, or see much over the flashing lights. All you could do is pose as your agent told you to and smile at the right direction.

You were led away but heard your voice be called from a corner. With a grin, you hurried over to Guillermo, the best part of Jimmy Kimmel shows. 'Hello handsome,' you winked, joining him quickly.

'Hello!' said Guillermo. 'Do you want a shot?'

You laugh. 'Do I want a shot- what? A shot of vodka?'

'We can do vodka,' he said, already prepping the shots.

'Let's do it, why not?'

Together, you take a shot and the camera focuses on you squinting and coughing. 'That was tequila.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'No, I loved it. I love you Guillermo!' you call as you slowly walk away.

Any other celebrity might have wondered why the crowd suddenly got louder, why camera's shifted. But they would've seen Hugh approach you in long strides, would've witnessed your grin as his arms wrapped around your back, careful not to ruin your dress.

They would have wondered what he was saying to you as he held your arms, soothing his thumb over the skin. They would've seen the simmer in your eyes and the way his arm slid around your waist effortlessly. You leant into him and the two of you posed for few pictures, offering them like rare jewels.

You and Hugh had never made it official, whatever it was between the two of you. But everyone knew what it was without words. There was only one word to describe the way Hugh looked at you. But you kept it private, he was some twenty years older and not long out of a marriage. Fans had watched you go from co-stars to friends to possibly (almost definitely) lovers. And they loved any crumbs you'd offer them.

The two of you did little interviews, only really stopping to talk to Amelia Dimoldenberg.

'Wait, the two of you are each other's dates?' she gasped.

'Amelia, I literally sent you an email asking to be my date,' you said. 'I didn't get a reply.'

Hugh stood back, looking between the two of you. 'You asked her, but I asked her first.'

Eventually, the two of you made it into the hall, sitting with the rest of your cast and crew for your movie. You all get situated, smiling and greeting any other friends.

Hugh and you were sat next to each other, something every camera in the room ate up. Since the rumours had started, you'd been all the people could talk about, and they'd be making stories of this for years. They snapped every shot of Hugh watching you talk, arm around the back of your chair, smiling and brushing parts of your hair away. Or how you'd reach out to brush his jacket or straighten his tie.

You couldn't keep your hands off each other.

Finally, the event started and the camera's were zoomed in on you and Hugh, which you didn't trust.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, Hollywood's greatest please welcome your host, Hollywood's worst... Ryan Reynolds!'

Everyone cheered but you and Hugh who's jaws dropped. People laughed at your reactions as you watched him walk out on stage, no less, in an 'I am a child of divorce.' and a picture of you and Hugh at the bottom.

Ryan waved at the two of you as everyone settled. You hid your face from laughing while Hugh was glaring playfully. 'Yeah! I know right! Who's Oscar did I have to shine to get my very own hosting gig! Wasn't yours Jackman, as you've never got one, you know?'

The crowd chuckled.

'And looks like you'll be getting one for, yep, let me check, contribution. Hey, win some you lose some, Wolvie.'

You were still chuckling loudly, the camera never leaving your reactions as the actors and crew laughed at you. So, you sat through Ryan's opening monologue as he spoke about each film individually, most with jokes, and most about how he nor Dogpool were nominated.

'Now, my good friends, well, what I like to call my parents, are both nominated for their movie. Yes, applause, please, they're very fragile,' said Ryan. 'Y/n plays a strong, confident woman who is only ever knocked down by Hugh's character and charm. But enough about what they get up to in the bedroom- this film-' Ryan halted, waiting for you and Hugh to stop playfully smirking at him and for the crowd to stop chuckling. He gave it a few serious words, before letting the rest of the ceremony play out.

You and Hugh were called out several times. When Halle Berry came out to present and gave Hugh a flirtatious wink that you gave back to her, blowing her a kiss.

When your friend Emma Stone tried to get you up to dance and you had to awkwardly shake your head.

Or when Hugh took to the stage, getting ready to take over hosting and you came up to drag him off as a joke.

When best supporting actor came up, they had last years best actress winner- Emma Stone- read out the names.

Hugh smiled and clapped when appropriate, but you seemed more nervous for him. A hand on his thigh, the other biting your nails. He was holding your leg, stopping your jerking knee.

'And the winner for best supporting actor, goes to... Hugh Jackman!'

The crowd erupted, but nobody as loud as you. You were on your feet before Hugh, arms thrown in the air as you cheer and clap.

Hugh's eyes, though he knew should be on the stage, fell to you as he pulled you in for a hug.

'I'm so proud of you!' you yell into his ear.

Hugh kissed your cheek, your temple, your hair, anything he can. Still hugging you, he reaches out behind you to shake hands with the director.

You pull away, kissing the back of his hand as he kisses your cheek again before rushing up to accept the award with a grin and a pep in his step.

He hugs Emma and offers her a polite kiss before taking to the microphone. 'Thank you! Thank you very much, everyone,' he says as they slowly stop clapping. They take their seats as he catches the director handing you tissues.

Hugh reaches into his pocket, taking out a piece of paper. 'I wrote this in 2013 but never got to use it, so excuse me if I just change the title of the film,' he joked as everyone chuckled. 'First, I want to thank the academy for this award. To the director, who had such an eye for art in this film, to the amazing writers for telling a story that needs to be told and should've been told a long time ago. It is because of your amazing work I am able to stand here and take only a fraction of the credit. To my agent, who thanks for getting me this job.

'To my children, I love you so much. I hope you think dad's a little cooler now. To my mum, whom I love and know is watching this at home. And to my dad, who I miss every day but I know... I know is here,' he choaks on the words as you watch, knowing you smudged your make up. Hugh turned to look at you and not the room, smiling through tears.

'And to you, my love, my reason for everything I do. You are the real heart of this movie, and you are my heart. My one and only. This is your award as much as mine. And I am yours. I love you so much, so, so much. I could stand up here and talk for hours about how much I love you, but I won't because I want to sit where you are and watch you win yours. I love you! Thank you!'

He holds up the award and blows you a kiss before walking off the side of stage.

You knew the camera was on you as you stood up again and cheered, a tear down your cheek.

Ryan walked back out on stage, this time, dressed in a cosplay of the iconic Wolverine suit. They all laughed. 'Gee, Hugh, thanks. I-I love you to.'

There was an award or two and a break before Hugh was rushing back to you all.

You leapt in his arms as he cradled you close, handing his oscar to the director. His hands roamed your back, fingers bruising the skin there as he kissed your shoulder and neck. 'God, I can't believe it, I am so proud of you, baby.'

Hugh pulled back, looking down at you. 'I love you. I love you so much.' he pecked your head. He wouldn't kiss you, you guys had a plan for the camera's to get that.

Not long after you'd taken your seats, the nominations for best actress in a leading roll were led out by Robert Downy jr.

Hugh held onto you tightly, tighter than you had him. It wouldn't feel right if he walked home with one when you, the real star, didn't. But you couldn't care, you were more than happy to sit with Hugh for the rest of the night, for the rest of your life.

'And the oscar, goes to...' Robert trailed off, opening the envelope and taking his time. He took in a deep breath. 'Oh, my lovely dear, get up here. Y/N!'

Just as they had for Hugh, everyone around you cheers. Your first instinct is to lean forward, holding your head in your hands and hiding as Hugh hugs you, pulling your body into his and yelling in glee. Finally, you pull back and hug the director, keeping a hold on Hugh's hand, you say things to the writers before turning and throwing an arm around Hugh's neck.

You're still gripping his hand as he helps you to the stage, you trembling so much you dare not go without support. He kisses your hand and hugs you once more before leaving you to walk up the stage. The cheers grow louder as you greet Robert.

The man was like your father, after staring in how many Marvel movies together. He hugged you tightly, smiling at you and bowing to present you with the oscar.

You approached the microphone, tears in your eyes as you did and everyone clapped. You waited until you could hear a pin drop until you took a deep breath. 'This is stressful as shit,' the people laugh. 'Oh my- thank you! Everyone! Thank you Robert! To all the other amazing, talented and intelligent nominees, I give a piece of this oscar to you all cause you were all amazing, truly!' you celebrate.

'Thank you to the director, to the writers, the cast, the crew. This story meant so much to me but more to all of you and you worked incredibly hard every day, your talent aspired me to work harder and thank you cause now I got one of these,' you show them the oscar, laughing. The crowd chuckle with you.

The camera cuts to Hugh, who watches you with stars in his eyes, reflecting in a pool of his tears.

'Oh god, who else. My agent, thank you. I appreciate it. Um, thanks to me I guess for being a good actress,' you shrug as the room laughs. 'I should probably thank Ryan or he'll force Hugh to do another Wolverine. Hugh,' you focus on him as the crowd chuckles. 'I am so in love with you. I didn't think a heart was capable of beating with so much love but it does- mine does- for you. All time. I love you more than words can describe, more than the whole sky. Thank you all! Thank you!'

Just as Hugh had, you head off to the stage, taking Roberts hand as he smiles and kisses your temple before leading you off.

Backstage, you and Hugh took to doing the interview together. They clapped as you appeared, hand in hand. Both of you looked dishevelled. Your hairs messy, Hugh's collar tugged and your dress crinkled at the end. Your lipstick was smudged too but you still managed some class. While Hugh looked like he'd been laid for the first time.

Still, you held onto each other with one hand and your oscars with the other.

'Hello!' greeted Hugh.

You giggled, hiding your face as Hugh coax's you to stand up, but laughs with you.

Many serious questions were asked as you and Hugh tried your best to pay attention.

'Y/N you looked great tonight, I just want to know what was the process of getting to look so good?' a man asked.

You chuckled, thinking about it as Hugh hid his grin, watching you. 'The process was... um... I took a shower, shaved just in case, you know, I got lucky tonight,' you nudged your hips with Hugh's smirking, 'I raided my friends wardrobe, found this old thing, it fit thank god. And um, yeah?'

Hugh barked a laugh as the crowd laughed at your antics, you having to bend over to laugh with him. Finally, he straightened up, wiping tears from his eyes. 'Sorry, what a night.'

'What a night,' you agreed. 'We've been celebrating so.'

The crowd again laugh, guessing just how the two of you have been celebrating.

As best you can, you answer a couple more questions before you were swooped away to take pictures, Hugh's arm falling lower and lower down your back until it was reasting above your ass.

Some reporter wolf whistled as you guys went and Hugh gripped you, bending his head to kiss you. It wasn't how you'd planned, but he needed to kiss you. Sure, your lips had been all around him less than ten minutes ago, but it wasn't enough, was never enough.

The two of you took your pictures with best actor and supporting actress. All four of you posing together, when it came to just you and Hugh, the two of you were laughing messes as you angled your oscars to kiss like a kid would with barbies.

Then, Hugh wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and drew you in until he was kissing you, his lips moulding on yours, hand gripping you and camera's flashing.

The next day, Ryan was wearing a shirt of that iconic shot.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii,