#i noticed the door was more open than usual

[widowlyy]

🥎 ❀ HOMERUN DEAL

analysis. its the first game of your season and you were a nervous wreck the entire time. Close enough to quitting, your softball coach had pulled you to the side and offered you a bargain if you were to snap your head into the game and win.

pairing. softball coach!natasha x player!reader

warnings. MINORS DNI | Smut. Legal age gap (N is late thirties, R is early twenties), strap-on (R receiving), daddy kink, possessive nat, mean nat (if you squint), teasing, semi-public sex (almost got caught, in office), degradation, praising, dirty talk.

wc. 4.8k

authors note. the games begin, in the series and between me and a fellow friend 😼😼 — expect more coming soon. @thewidowsledger im ringing the dinner bell come here

taglist. @idkwhatever580

⧗

Monday mornings were never your favorite, who even enjoyed them anyways? Tomorrow is going to be the first softball game of the season after a week of practice and a week of you fawning over your coach, and it was clear your teammates noticed. You walked into your building with a empty cup of coffee that was sloppily made from the starbucks worker, and you didn’t even have the time to open your mouth and complain due to Kate wanting to meet up early and gossip in the parking lot. You remind yourself of the message you got in the morning before you woke, the familiar image of the redhead had filled your mind as she reminded you to go to her office in the morning to go over plans and to understand your point of view more on who should play where.

You walked through the halls, ensuring your shoes dragged amongst the floor, squeaking in complaint just like you were twenty minutes earlier to the black haired girl you adored. The sound of a door opening, the metal hinges silently groaned as the raspy yet teasing voice announced, “L/N, stop dragging your feet down the hall, come on in,” Turning your head to see the opened door with the woman herself standing in the doorway, taking in her outfit, the wide-legged black dress pants had perfectly fit her waist with the white blouse as her top. You tried to focus on the redhead's face rather than Natasha’s soft colored skin and curves, noticing the soft smile on her face as she lured you into the trap of her office as you stepped into the office. Ensuring to lift your feet to prevent the obnoxious noise. Hearing the door close behind you and the feeling of a hand brushing against your lower back as she gestured for you to sit across from her seat behind the desk. You hesitated at first, before you felt her lean in behind you as her lips brushed against your ear. Is this a teasing way? Was she just playing with you, fighting the blush on your cheeks as she softly mused out, “Come on, we have plenty of time for you and me to discuss the game plan tomorrow,”

“Right, uhm, what are you thinking?” You tried to hide your nerves as you asked your coach what her plans were, watching as the redhead had ensured to sit across from you looking into your eyes as soon as you looked up to meet hers with that smirk plastered on her lips before she turned to look at her computer screen and explain her thoughts.

“Well, I thought I could place Brooke at third with you at short. Kate pitching with Carol catching,” She confidently stated out as she looked over the positions, her eyes trailed over as your brows creased and a small frown found your face and you spoke up.

“No, swap me and Brooke. She plays at short usually while me at third, that’s been our dynamic for years,” you had explained softly, mind hazy as all you could think about was Natasha’s arms. Seeing them lean against the desk to look closer at you before she hummed softly, adjusting the positions, another suggestion fell off your lips, “You’ll want to have Maria warm up as well, if Kate goes for too long in an inning she’ll get in her head and it won’t work for any of us,”

She quirked a brow, a soft smirk playing on her lips as she nodded, “Abby at second right? Then we bring Wanda in center, Anna in right and Karlie in left,”

You nodded quickly at the redheads statement for the rest of the positions, your eyes flicked to the screen as your coach turned it around so you’d get a look at the batting line up. You were batting third, wincing a bit but hiding it quickly as you nodded, “seems good to me,”

The redhead smiled softly at you, green eyes twinkling before she pulled her laptop back and shut it, her focus going solely on you which had the butterflies in your stomach churning. Swallowing, you also mumbled out meekly, “is there anything you need me to tell the team, such as signs, specific things or plays you want?”

“No, I think I can have it handled,” Natasha responded softly before spinning her chair and standing up, the aroma of coffee filling the office air as your eyes took in how your coach had a coffee machine in her office. Surprise filled your orbs, she turned back as she got two mugs, “do you want a cup? I made a little too much,”

“Yeah sure,” You agreed, “lots of sugar if you have it, creamer too,” 

“Ooh, you like it sweet? Does that explain how sweet you are?” She teased lightly, a brow quirking as she poured you a cup. Pouring a scoop of sugar in and then creamer, surprisingly enough to suit your taste as she stirred it and handed it to you. Flushing as your eyes found your feet, muttering a small thanks and taking the cup gracefully.

“You seem tired malyshka, how much sleep did you get?” Your coach asked softly, pouring herself a cup and having a scoop of sugar before mixing it in well enough as she sat down in front of you again. Taking a sip as you tried to comprehend how black the woman liked her coffee. Calculating the hours of sleep, you weren’t as tired as you were anymore, too busy ranting on call with Kate while playing stupid games or doing assignments. Yet somehow it took a toll on you last night, actually trying to go to bed early but all you could do was stare at the ceiling and hope that sleep would take you. Sleeping medication, such as melatonin, didn’t work anymore due to early years of you being unable to sleep and overtaking it to where the medicine didn’t have an effect on you anymore.

“Err, about six hours, I was up finishing a report for one of my minor classes,” You meekly admitted, you had easily lied to teachers before. A bat of your eyes with a soft plea that your cat had gone missing due to her being a minx and you were worried too much to work on schoolwork because that cat was the last thing you had with a resemblance of your mother. Your cat is in fact with your mother, who lives in a separate state, who you never talked to after you declared that it was your time for independence and that you can go through with your dreams. You still regret it, it’s one of the things that has your mind reeling at night with a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt.

Your mind wandered enough for Natasha to see the haze in your eyes, she cleared her throat as her raspy yet soft voice slightly scolded in concern, “you need eight hours honey, that’s not healthy especially when you play a sport like this. I need you up and running tomorrow, okay?”

Your eyes lifted, a slight nod had bobbed at her words as you took a sip from the mug she handed you. Nose scrunching as you considered her words, a meek thanks leaving your lips as you felt the scorching liquid torment your tastebuds before you swallowed it down your esophagus. You swore you’d take coffee out of your mornings after you spazzed out one day in highschool, hands too shaky for writing and you broke your personal school chromebook that had your dad in your ear about having to pay for it and your mom yelling at him and defending you quickly. 

“I plan on going to bed earlier tonight, Kate’s working so I can’t call her. I have nothing due for my classes either so I’m free,” You reassured your coach, a shy smile finding your features as your eyes softened slightly from the tension and exhaustion as you looked at the redhead who gave you a smile in return.

“That’s good, I hope you don’t mind but I contacted your first classes professor about you not being there for us discussing plans,” She informed you, a hum left her throat, “if you want you can stay here and rest, I’m not doing anything special but scheduling more games. The couch there is open if you want to nap,” 

Your eyes widened at her gesture, astonished at the generosity before you nodded quickly. Taking a moment to think before opening your phone to check the time, at least two hours, you’ll be able to last. A hoarse rasp left your throat from the hot liquid and tiredness, “thank you coach, I’ll be out of here five minutes before first period is done, I’ll set an alarm,”

As you stood to go lay down on the couch. You settled yourself, head resting on the arm as you were about to set an alarm on your phone as movement caught your eyes. Natasha waved it off as she offered with a hum, “don’t worry about it, I can wake you up, just get your beauty sleep malyshka. That’s all I need,”

A simple nod against the fabric was enough to indicate you trusted Natasha to wake you up, a small smile found her face as she was finally gaining your trust. Noting how your breathing faded to something soft you fell asleep, a small sigh left her lips. Finding ways to get you to rest was hard, exhausting you at practice as she made you run drills harshly weren’t enough. Maybe the gentle approach was better, all she knew is that she was getting closer to you. That’s all she wanted, and she found a suspicion that’s what you wanted too.

—

You fought with the belt buckle to hold your pants up, to tie the outfit together. Black jeseries with red pin stripes with black pants, white socks and the white belt that is struggling to close around your hips. Finally snapping it down as you sighed, you had your hair bubble braided and you stood in front of the mirror in the athletic locker room. Eyes fixing in on your form before a sudden whistle left someone’s lips and you saw the familiar raven colored hair stood beside you.

“Your ass is fat, what happened to the pants? Or did you just randomly grow,” Kate teased, hand grazing your shoulder before she moved to put her hair up in a lazy bun. Your eyes gave the infamous mom glare as you sighed, you were pretty sure you were given the wrong size in pants. First time wearing them, and you had planned to take a trip to Natasha’s office after the game to ask if you can swap pants with how tight they were. A small squeeze in your lower abdomen was there for pressure in your breathing, but it wasn’t fatal yet.

“The pants are a size too small, I plan on going to coaches office after the game to ask for a swap,” You shared the game-plan about your pants with Kate, letting out a soft grumble as she quirked a brow as a teasing giggle left her throat, “maybe coach picked you a size smaller on purpose,”

A smack was emitted from where you were at, you had slapped her bicep with another glare that could kill as the girl put her arms up in defeat, “Joking! I was joking, gosh! Who’s got your panties rolled up?”

You sensed there was a second part Kate wanted to share with that final sentence but luckily the girl was smart enough to not push it anymore. You hauled your softball bag over your shoulder and clapped her on the shoulder with a rough, “Let’s get going, maybe I’ll make you run an extra lap for warmups to put your head in the game,”

“Yeah while you have your head somewhere else,” Kate rolled her eyes and she was lucky she was a few distances behind you as you hissed out her last name in a scolding manner. Walking down the cement path towards the fields as you hauled a bucket of balls while Kate follows behind you like a lost puppy.

“Come on, let’s get our head in the game,”

—

Your head wasn’t in the game. You didn’t know what was happening, you have been struggling to field a simple ground ball and you have bobbled it everytime it got into your mitt and you overthrowed it or was too late. When you were up to bat you could barely hit, it was a slow pitcher which you absolutely hated on waiting for and you fouled it many more times than it went into play. When it went into play? It was dead, dying in the dirt as quick as it hit it and you were thrown out every time you ran through the bag. Your ribs were aching, pants too tight as you struggled to breathe as water dribbled down your chin, sweating profusely as you sat in the corner every time you were in the dugout for being on the offensive side while your teammates hit.

Natasha stood at third base every inning when your team was hitting, when your team was on the field she sat on her bucket giving signals to the catcher and pushing her face into the clipboard everytime a mistake was made. You grimaced every time when you saw the sweaty redhead cringe and you felt the wave of disappointment.

It was the last inning, the last at bat and the score was tied. 6-6, you were on deck and you swung the bat lazily to try and warm yourself up. Try and shake out the jitters, the bat cracked from Kate and went flying to rightfield. Bases were loaded, and a time was called as the other coach ran to the pitchers mound for some type of talk.

A hand found your shoulder, dragging you to the third base area away from earshot as Natasha pulled you back and her slender hands gripped the mask of your helmet, “what’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know, coach I can’t do—,” A jerk forward from the helmet brought you insanely closer to the redhead, piercing green irises staring into yours as she finished your sentence, “you can do this Y/N, stop doubting yourself. You can hit off of her easily, just a small one over the fence and we win. Just time up your load carefully, don’t lunge, and don’t roll your wrists,”

You stared hopelessly into the redheads eyes, how can Natasha give this advice so simply? Cheeks flushed at how your coach was so close as Natasha ever so slightly leaned in and deviously, yet quietly bargained, “you hit a home run over that fence and I’ll take you in my office and fuck you,”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape at the offer, well bargain she handed you. She was your coach and she just offered you sex for a home run? Biting your bottom lip as you blinked before she added on, “I’ve seen the looks you give me, you can’t deny it princess,”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take it but what happens if I don’t?” As soon as you asked the umpire asked—yelled—for you to come up to the plate. Swallowing as the redhead’s eyes darkened before she patted the helmet you wore and you traipsed up to the batter’s plate. 

Stepping into the box, you watched the pitcher wind up and throw a ball right over your head. Steadily breathing out as you stepped out to look over at your coach. No signs, she meant the words she said. Stepping back in and swinging your bat against your cleats like the ritual you do every time you go up to bat. 

Wind up, load back, and you swung your arms forth. The sound of the ball hitting the bat cracked over the field and you dropped it and ran. Watching the baserunners start running, your assistant coach pumped their arms to signal you to turn and go to second. You pumped your legs faster, puffing slightly as you suddenly heard clapping. It was a good hit but was it enough for the spectators to clap. You turned your head to see Natasha clapping as well, a smile on the redhead’s face as you noticed the fielders moved to the side. 

You made it to three and kept running, finally recognizing the fact you hit the ball over the fence. Your team rushed out of the dugout to congratulate you, as soon as you stepped on home plate your thighs were grabbed and you were hauled up as they lifted you and cheered. The yell of game over had everyone dancing in enthusiasm, as soon as you were set down on the dirt you lined up and high-fived the other team with your squeaky mumbles of good game.

—

“There could’ve been a lot of improvement, but it was a good first game,” Natasha spoke as she stood, you and your teammates were sat in the grass in leftfield and listened to her advice for how the game went and her overlook, “you guys make a great team, but if you keep getting in your heads like that and keep on making mistakes we’ll never learn and we will lose every game, luckily Y/N hit that grand slam for us,”

You felt a few hands clap your shoulders, hair down as you were tired and didn’t want to wait until home to take the amount of mini rubber bands out. You were unable to process the congratulations still on how you managed to hit it over the fence as your eyes slightly peered up to look at the redhead, she was quiet for a second before adding on, “rake the fields, put everything away,”

Standing up, you went to go help the teammates go pick up, blinking for a moment before a harsh order came out in the night air, “Not you Y/N, my office, now,”

You swallowed, watching your coach walk past you and you ducked your head and followed Natasha like a lost puppy as confused looks found your teammates faces. It felt like hours walking to the building of your school, watching the redhead open the doors for you and place a hand on your shoulder to guide you to her office.

Door hinges opened with a small creaking in protest, walking in first before two hands grabbed your waist and the door was shut. Hands moving to fumble with the lock of the office door as Natasha’s head pushed into the crevice of your neck as sloppy, wet kisses were littered across your skin. Hands finding her hair and a hopeless whimper left your throat as she kept you pinned against the door as the handle dug painfully into your lower spine.

“Didn’t believe me when I offered you this huh malyshka? Trust me, daddy keeps her promises,” the huskiness of Natasha’s voice sent a throbbing ache between your legs as you mewled as her teeth gently sunk into your throat before the warm muscle of Natasha’s tongue soothed the mark.

“Tell me what you want baby, what does the little winner want from daddy, hmm?” She cooed out mockingly, pulling her head back with a wicked grin on her facial features. A calloused hand grabbing your chin to make you look at her, unable to form a single thought in your head with words. Your body moved on its own, hips thrusting forward against the redheads hip. Hand leaving your face to grip your waist and pushed you back.

“Uh uh, tell daddy what you want or you’re not going to get what you want and I’ll decide for you,” She tutted, a mocking pout finding her perfect lips as she leaned in and pressed a kiss against your pretty lips, teeth gnashing down on your bottom lip as you moaned out. Tongue pushing way into your mouth before she pulled back, leaving you wanting and chasing her lips.

“Want you, please,” You softly whined, hands gripping the redheads coaching shirt as a brow quirked. Her hand moving to unbutton your jersey, fingernails tracing the shape of your bra as she taunted, “what part of me my dear?”

You flushed, swallowing as you grabbed Natasha by the waist and pulled her closer. Smashing your lips into hers and she grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in before flipping you around. She pushed your hair out of the way and pressed her lips to your neck again, teeth biting, sucking, doing all that she can to leave her marks as a hand went down to grope your ass.

“Fuck, these pants really do show your ass, hm? My perfect little baby with the body of a goddess,” She lovingly cooed, pushing your jersey off your body. Unclasping your bra before her hand cupped one of your breasts, fingers rolling over the nipple as you whined out. Softly moaning into the air, “tell me baby, do you wanna ride daddy’s cock? I’m sure that’s a reward you want, or maybe have you bent over my desk as I fuck that pretty pussy until it’s full,”

Her hand from your ass lifted and grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back so you can look into her eyes, “hmm? Too dumb to think now are we? Poor girl,”

She pulled you away from the door, bringing you over to her desk as she kissed you again. Savoring your taste on her lips as you grasped at her shirt again, hands fiddling with the buckle of your belt before undoing it. Her hands shoved your pants and panties down, revealing your throbbing cunt into the cold air and you gasped.

“Such a slut, I’m your coach and you’re getting off with how I treat you,” She scolded, turning your body around as a hand found the spot between your shoulder-blades and pushed you down so you were bent over her desk. Uncaring for the paperwork, she can always print more. Loving how you were bent, hands gripping the wood like it was your lifeline while you were on the tips of your toes, your entrance open and needy as your arousal stuck to your thighs.

“Mmph, daddy please,” You whimpered out, needy enough as you slowly pushed your hips against the desk to get at least some friction until a slap was emitted on the globe of your ass.

“Don’t move,” Came the harsh words from your coach, a whimper left your lips as you blubbered incoherently. Hearing a belt buckle undone, the slide of pants falling down. The feel of silicone against your thigh had you clench in anticipation, the redhead traced her fingers down your spine before she slid the toy inside you. 

Your eyes crossed, unfamiliar with the stretch and as you felt her hips move back slowly anticipation creeped into your veins before a knock was sounding at the door. You froze, Natasha froze. The door was locked, but if someone were to actually peer through the thick glass on the door the silhouettes of you two would be seen.

“Coach, practice is cancelled tomorrow right?” Came the voice of the familiar blonde, Carol was right outside the door and you felt the lump in your throat. A hand moved to grip your throat, squeezing as your breathing restricted, the gruff voice leaving the body who was behind you.

“Yes Carol, practice is cancelled tomorrow. But I have a very important email I’m writing and you just interrupted me. Would you like a one on one practice with me yourself or leave me alone?” The harshness of Natasha’s words had you gush around the strap and she felt it. A smirk finding her plump lips before a quiet ‘yes coach’ was heard and the sound of feet moving down the hall.

Your fingers clawed at the desk, the grip on your throat didn’t loosen and the redhead slammed the toy back into you. The tip right against your cervix as you cried—well tried to—out. 

“Oh baby, you fit my cock so well, such a pretty girl. You like it when I treat you like this, don’t you?” She cooed out softly, pulling her hips back and thrusting in. Molding her body to your back as her hips snapped steadily, thrusting in and out of you as she held you down as to pitifully nodded and moaned out.

“Daddy’s good girl, fuck I should’ve taken you earlier. Your pussy is so addicting,” She moaned out, her hand leaving your throat as a series of moans left your lips. Pressing her lips to your throat as her hand found your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it as you grinded back into your coach.

“Uh, uh, uh,” left your throat, cockdrunk already as your mind grew hazy. A snort left the redhead’s mouth, a soft snicker escaping the older woman’s throat at your lack of thought. 

“Gonna cum,” you softly whined out, walls clenching around the strap on as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten to that familiar feeling. A harsh laugh left the coach, before she pulled the toy out of you and a broken cry left your lips. Tears starting to bubble in your eyes, the hand on your clit moved back to your hip.

“Poor baby, you needed to let go that bad?” She mocked, pulling you up from the desk as she sat down in her office chair, pulling you to straddle her lap and face you. A brow quirked and she gave that devious smirk of hers, “I’m sure you can hold it for daddy, ride my cock malyshka,”

You slid back down onto her cock, head nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you felt the gush of arousal flush out around the faux dick and onto Natasha’s thighs. Hips touching hers, before you slowly started to grind.

“That’s a good girl,” She praised, and a moan left your lips as your speed quickened. Grinding went to lifting your hips and bouncing. Your coach’s hands went to your hips and guided your movements, your breath right against your neck. Panting as you had your nails dig into her clothed shoulder.

“Daddy, feels so good,” You moaned out your praise for how the redhead made you feel. Sniffling out as you felt the tug in your core, blinking heavily as you felt the overstimulation every time your clit brushed against the strap. 

“See how good daddy makes you feel baby, all you needed was a bargain for a good fuck and you do good. Are you that much of a slut Y/N, or is this just for me?” She asked, slowing your pace down as you sobbed out between moans. You thought you were going to be able for release as your reward, and all she is doing is refusing it? As frustrated as you are, you can’t help but moan loudly and love her more.

“All for you daddy, please let me cum, I’ll be your good girl,” You begged, and oh you beg so prettily for her. Softly whimpering, she guided your hips quicker again, feeling that sinking feeling come back as you inhaled sharply.

“Let it go baby, make a mess of daddy’s cock,” She permitted your release, and as soon as the sentence was over you snapped your hips faster and felt the coil snap. Juices flooding out of your entrance and over her dick, ruining Natasha’s dress pants and coating your thigh. You shuddered, movements stopping as you shakily breathed.

Thinking you were done with the hazed mind, it wasn’t until you registered the movement of your hips again that Natasha was moving you again, “daddy too much!”

The complaint left your lips lazily, all the redhead could do was scoff, “it’s not too much, daddy will tell you when it’s too much. Now be quiet and let daddy use you, hmm? Daddy needs to be taken care of too,”

You nodded weakly, not able to defy or complain to the redhead anymore. Letting her move your hips, the pleasure and overstimulation taking over but she had a point, Natasha needed to be taken care of right, it’s what you owed her. It wasn’t until you released two more times, and being covered in Natasha’s release is when she called it. She wanted to talk to you about what happened, but when you slumped against her with your nose scrunched, mouth partially open and eyes closed that she decided to let you rest. She put her pants back on, and then dressed you back up. She knew it wasn’t proper, but could she really resist? She left the building with you in her arms and in the passenger seat of her car. And that was all you remembered when you woke up in her arms the next morning, in her bed, with your face pressed in between her boobs without a care in the world for the responsibilities for the day, maybe this could work out after all.

[mr-affogatos-papers]

Living in the woods, isolated from society, and with Aliens for Neighbours wasn't as worrying as one would think — nor was it any different from living in a city neighborhood, minus the electricity. It was peaceful, a break from society's constant buzz.

The aliens weren't troublesome nor friendly and I kept myself the same. Their otherworldly existence and habits were peculiar and interesting enough for me to keep a track on their whereabouts more often than not. We all did have our personal lives, our habits and quirks. I wasn't one to judge, It ain't my place. But, If I was telling someone about my situation, I'd compare this to your everyday neighborhood. It's like on the rare chance you actually see your neighbor doing groceries, you would look quizzically at them hauling four bags in by themselves --out of which two are filled with only cans of monster or those 0.99$ each stress balls that would pop in a second. You wouldn't really question them, would you? And if you were dragging into your home a box that looks suspiciously like a coffin covered by a blanket, the most that would happen is them offering you help at your pathetic display of strength.

It was the same thing here.

We never crossed paths, usually working at different times and speeds. And on the off chance we did, I did have the decency to act like I did not see them with a 900-pound bear that was suspiciously tame and cooperative.

Though strange, it was peaceful like this. The large area they occupied had all the animals calm and sweet like little pups and cubs. The fear of predators, and the guilt that came with having to shoot 'em when they try to gnaw at me, slowly dwindled away when all they wanted was belly rubs and ear scratches and not my leg to snack on.

So yeah, no predators.

Until now apparently.

The note was a set of scribbles of English, written like a child who just picked up a pencil. But it was big enough for me to recognize the words and that, paired with the metal and another layer of who-knows-what vibrating all around my cabin said enough.

I wasn't one to question it or doubt its authenticity. If danger was presenting itself, and it was something they couldn't placate like those animals, then I'd ensure my own safety with their added protection. I grab the drying meat from the outside rack and the two shotguns I had kept to clean and bring it inside, dumping it by the door as I make my way to the kitchen.

To stay inside for an indefinite amount of time meant ensuring you had the essentials to be able to last so long. I knew I had to restock my necessities soon, do a 4-hour drive to the nearby town and a 4-hour drive back.

8 hours. And the sun was already halfway down. It would be impossible to make it before dark. And it's an unsaid rule to never be out in the dark when you know there's trouble lurking.

I curse as I decide what to prioritize but the moment, I open my cupboards I freeze. It was filled. To the brim. I open another cupboard and then another until all 6 of them are open. And then I open the fridge.

Stocked. Completely.

There was stuff I buy and stuff I don't usually buy. Like the 8 different types of pasta shapes. I don't know whether to be grateful for their foresight or concerned about how they got in without breaking the lock. On the fridge I notice a note written in the same childish handwriting

"It was a matter of urgency. apologies"

Holy pepperoni. I crumple the paper and throw it in the bin as I plan out my next steps. Reload my guns, dry out some fruits and meat, nap for a few hours, and stay on guard for what seems to be a really long time. solid plan. I crash out on my sofa immediately after I'm done with my tasks. Waking up I find out it was unnecessary. Late into the evening, I find a note slipped through the crack under my door, the familiar scribbles highlighting it, "It's safe. You can come out" I'm not the trusting sort, not in the slightest when it comes to believing the danger was gone so soon. But I was curious, so I look out of the peephole and find the fortified defenses around my place gone. I huff, looking back at my note. I didn't hear a single sound of life. I crumble the paper and aim it at the bin, dropping my shotgun on the couch as I walk past. A few more hours of sleep wouldn't hurt.

The aliens you've seen while living out in the woods have rarely been "friendly," but always benign. You have your space, they have theirs, rarely interacting... which is why you knew something was wrong when you found advanced defenses around your house and a hand-drawn warning to stay inside.

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 9

paige x azzi

word count: 7.3k

A/N: I don’t even know. I’m real iffy about this (i hate it) but a lot of people wanted it so here we are lol. This is honestly a random ass chapter and it’s a little all over the place. There’s at least a common theme throughout the chapter which is good I guess! Let me know what you think :)

—————————————————————————

Paige has been chronically offline since the accident. Of course she still scrolls on her accounts but her social media presence was almost nonexistent—just a collection of sponsored ads and the occasional basketball dump that, knowingly to fans, was usually Azzi’s doing these days. If it weren’t for her teammates tagging her in posts, some people joked they’d forget she even had social media.

Because Paige was so inactive online, fans paid extra attention to her whenever she did show up. Every glimpse of her—whether it was a blurry background appearance in someone’s TikTok or a split-second cameo in an Instagram story—became something to dissect. It wasn’t just about what she was doing, but who she was always with.

Azzi wasn’t much better when it came to social media. She posted more than Paige, but that wasn’t saying much. Her feed was mostly basketball, occasional glimpses into her workouts, and sometimes a rare photo dump. But what fans noticed most was that, when she did post anything remotely fun or glimpses of her life, Paige was often in the videos.

It started subtly—Azzi posting TikTok trends with the team, Paige reluctantly included but always standing closest to Azzi. Then, she’d randomly post duets of them. Ones where Paige didn’t even try to hide her smile when Azzi pulled her into frame, or where she’d roll her eyes but still play along, because it was Azzi. Fans ate it up, stitching their videos with captions like Azzi is the only one who can make Paige do anything.

Then there were the off-the-court moments. Paige and Azzi getting caught whispering on the bench regardless of who was sitting in between them. The way Azzi’s hand would linger on Paige’s arm after huddles, or how Paige always seemed to turn to Azzi first when she was talking.

None of it was concrete. But to fans who had been paying attention, it was enough to start putting the pieces together.

The suspicion grew more on a random night after a game. KK, Aubrey, and Ice were piled in one of the team suites, Ice’s phone was propped up on live. They weren’t talking about anything in specific—just answering questions, talking about the game, and laughing about something they were trying to explain they saw from the bench.

In the background, Paige was in her own world, sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t even know the live was happening. Which wasn’t unusual. Paige was rarely the one front and center in these kinds of things, and the fans knew it.

But that didn’t stop them from trying.

The comments flooding in.

Pls get Paige in the camera!

Can Paige come say hi???

Ice glanced over her shoulder. “Yo, they’re asking for you,” she told Paige, shifting the camera slightly to show the fans her reaction.

Paige didn’t even look up from her phone. She just shook her head, laughing. “Nah, I’m good.”

The comments started flying in:

SHE LAUGHED OMG

She always does this 😭

Why is Paige allergic to cameras but will be in every single Azzi TikTok?

KK snickered, reading the comments in her head but not saying anything out loud. She, Ice, and Aubrey went back to talking about what happened on the bench during the game, reenacting the moment that had them in tears. The chat kept moving at full speed, fans still begging for Paige to come into frame, but the three ignored it, too caught up in their conversation.

After about 15 minutes the door to the suite opened, and Azzi walked in with Jana.

When they stepped in, Ice perked up. “Look who it is!” she said, grinning.

“Come say hi to the live real quick,” KK said, motioning for them to get in frame.

Jana, always down, strolled right over and leaned into the camera. “What are y’all doing?” she said, reading some of the comments as they flooded in.

Azzi, on the other hand, didn’t fully step in. She just popped her head into frame, flashing a quick smile. “Hey, guys,” she said casually before popping back out.

With the addition of Jana, the energy in the room picked up again. Ice, KK, and Aubrey focused on interacting with fans. The chat was flying, a mix of people laughing along and still—relentlessly—begging for Paige to get in the camera.

KK was the first to notice. She shook her head and nudged Aubrey, who glanced at what KK was pointing at and laughing. Jana and Ice caught on next, and within a few seconds, the four of them silently reached an agreement.

They all turned toward Paige simultaneously, eyes wide, lips jutted out in exaggerated pouts.

Paige, still lounging on the couch, didn’t even have to look up to know something was off. They had gotten way too quiet. With a small sigh, she lifted her head—only to be met with four identical, pleading expressions staring directly at her.

She blinked. “That looks like a scene from a horror movie.”

KK snorted, but no one broke character.

Paige let out a long sigh before pushing herself off the couch. “Alright, alright, chill,” she mumbled, as she walked toward them.

The live chat exploded:

NO WAY SHE ACTUALLY GOT UP THE POWER THEY HAVE

We finally won 😭

She stepped into the frame and forced a tight smile. “Hello,” she said simply.

She looks like she’s being held hostage 💀

Someone check if she blinked twice

Paige glanced down at the screen, reading through a few of them which were definitely inappropriate and shook her head. “Y’all are crazy,” she mumbled.

Then, her attention shifted slightly—just past the camera.

Her lips curled into a small grin, subtle at first, but it grew when her ears tinged a faint shade of red. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked. Her voice was softer, more familiar, like she had completely forgotten they were on live.

The chat instantly reacted.

WHO IS SHE TALKING TO??

Wait, what’s happening?

Y’all saw that shift in energy?? HELLO???

Just then, another voice mumbled something from behind the camera. "You look cute when you’re all shy like that."

Paige’s smile deepened as she shook her head, a small huff escaping her lips. “Did I say I was shy?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

WHO JUST SAID THAT??

Was that Azzi???

NAH WHOEVER THAT IS HAS HER FLUSTERED

Paige is actually blushing. I’m sick, it's not me.

Azzi’s voice came again, a little clearer this time, but still low enough that it wasn’t obvious who was speaking. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it."

Paige bit her lip, eyes flickering downward for a second before shaking her head again. “Mhm,” she hummed, her amusement clear. “That’s crazy.”

Now the fans were in full meltdown mode, scrambling to piece it together.

HELLO???

WHAT IS HAPPENING.

WHO IS SHE TALKING TO??

KK glanced down at the comments, but she hadn’t been following the chaos leading up to them. All she saw was "Who’s behind the camera?"

“Oh,” she said, reaching for the phone. “It’s just Azzi Fudd Fudd.”

She turned the camera toward Azzi, who barely had time to blink before being on the live. Azzi gave a small smile, waving before KK propped the phone back in its original spot.

OH. MY. GOD.

IT WAS AZZI LMAOOO

THE WAY SHE WAS JUST STANDING THERE?? HELLO??

Paige, babe, be so real with us right now. Like be fr.

Paige, for her part, had already retreated back to the couch, stretching out with an arm over the backrest.

Eventually, Azzi wandered over, standing in front of Paige, who tilted her head up to look at her. The fans couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t matter because Paige had that goofy grin on her face—the one she only ever gave Azzi.

Paige picked up her phone, holding it out in front of her as she showed something to Azzi. Azzi took it, leaning down just a little closer, her eyebrows furrowing as she examined the screen. The fans could see her jaw drop in mock disbelief.

“Absolutely not,” Azzi said, shaking her head with a playful, incredulous tone.

Paige looked shocked. “Wait, what?” she asked, but before Azzi responded, she was turning to walk off frame, clearly trying to hide a grin.

Paige jumped up from the couch to follow her. The camera caught her moving quickly, her hand still holding her phone as she trailed behind Azzi, just as the two disappeared off-camera.

A moment later, a playful squeal is heard, followed by Azzi’s laughter. “Paige, stop!” she yells through her laugh.

There’s a bit of shuffling—movement that suggests a playful struggle—before Paige’s voice comes through. “You act like you don’t like it.”

After that there was a soft thud, like someone bumping into furniture, then the distant click of a door shutting.

KK glances toward the door before turning back to the screen, eyebrows raised.

As time passed and Paige and Azzi still hadn’t returned, the live became chaotic, with Ice and KK taking over, entertaining fans the best way they knew how—by arguing.

“Bro, you literally just said the opposite like five minutes ago,” Ice argued, pointing at KK.

“Girl boo. No, I didn’t,” KK shot back.

“Oh my God bro yes you did,” Ice insisted, shaking her head. “Somebody roll the tape.”

Then, someone finally asked:

Where did Paige and Azzi go???

KK glanced at the chat. “Prolly with they boyfriends.”

Ice turned her head, eyes widening before she let out a snicker, barely holding back her laugh.

GIRL BE SO FR RIGHT NOW.

WITH WHO???? NAME NAMES.

ICE LAUGHING CAUSE SHE KNOWS.

Paige and Azzi somewhere laughing at us rn.

KK YOU’RE NOT FUNNY (yes you are but still).

After that live, it seemed like the fans were watching their every move. It wasn’t like Paige and Azzi were hiding anything—it was more that they weren’t about to make any official announcements, nor were they ever planning on doing anything overt in front of the cameras.

Still, the speculation never stopped. Fans were divided—some adamantly claimed the two of them weren’t even gay, others argued they were just best friends, while a small group swore up and down that something was definitely happening between them. Despite all the chatter, Paige and Azzi never commented on it. And that, in itself, said enough.

There were no denials, no confirmations, just the two of them continuing on with their lives, the bond between them only becoming more obvious with time. It was clear to anyone who paid close enough attention that Paige and Azzi were something more than just teammates, more than just friends. But until they decided otherwise, everyone would have to keep guessing.

…

The podcast started, and the two of them were settled in front of the mics, the cameras already rolling. Paige looked a little stiff at first, clearly still not quite used to the whole “podcast” thing, while Azzi was a little more relaxed.

The Overtime WBB manager gave them a thumbs up, signaling for them to just start talking, telling them they’d chime in if they needed anything..

Azzi leaned into the mic first. "Hi, I’m Azzi Fudd."

Paige raised a hand, half-waving at the camera. "Paige Bueckers."

Azzi flashed a grin. "Um so, we’re partnering with Overtime WBB for a few podcast episodes, and honestly, it’s just gonna be a yap session. Nothing too serious. Just us talking and they’re going to clip whichever parts they like."

Paige chuckled at that. "Yap session? That’s one way to put it."

Azzi turned to her with her grin still in place. "Basically what it is. And yes, you have to participate."

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair. "I don’t know why I got picked for this.”

"You know exactly why you got picked for this."

Paige just shakes her head, picking up some of the cards they had in front of her, flipping through them absentmindedly. She wasn’t quite sure where to start.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cards in Paige’s hands. "So, how do you wanna do this?"

Paige looked up, smiling softly. "You can start."

Azzi leaned forward, giving Paige a look. "Just so you know I’m not running this whole thing. I’ll let you sit there being mysterious for a little bit though."

Paige laughed. "I’m not tryna be mysterious. I’m just… tryna figure out how to talk into a mic without sounding awkward."

Azzi laughed softly. "Just act like we're on the phone or FaceTime or something."

Paige gave her a look—one silently saying, you definitely don’t want us doing that.

Azzi caught the look and rolled her eyes slightly, laughing again. "Okay, maybe let’s not do that."

Paige nodded with a grin on her face. "Exactly."

Azzi shook her head, picking up the cards in front of her. She scanned through a few trying to find one that she knew would relax Paige a little bit. After a second she turned back to Paige with a grin. “Who's the best shooter on the team?"

Paige snorted. "Me."

Azzi raised an eyebrow "So, we're starting off the first episode with lying, huh?"

"Azzi, I’m a better shooter than you."

"Really? Do we wanna tell everybody what happened yesterday after practice?"

Paige sat up in her chair as she squinted her eyes at Azzi. "You mean when you cheated and threw your ball in the air on my last shot?"

Azzi grinned. "You still missed. Meaning you lost."

Paige shook her head. "You cheated.

Azzi’s grin only grew as she shrugged nonchalantly. "You're just a sore loser."

Paige shot her a glare. "I’m a sore loser? You still can't admit I beat you in a one-on-one."

"Because you didn’t win."

Paige threw her hands up. "Bro, I was up 18-17!"

Azzi’s grin only grew when she saw Paige getting riled up. "Exactly. It was win by two. So, no, you didn’t win."

Paige let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. "Whatever."

Azzi laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I’ll let you be delusional today but we both know what's good."

Paige smirked a little at this but didn't say anything back. Just raised her eyebrows at Azzi before she looked down at her cards. After a moment, she picked one out and glanced up at Azzi.

"Would you rather be stuck in a room with me or Coach for 24 hours?"

Azzi snorted, her face lighting up with amusement. She pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin dramatically before glancing at Paige with a grin. "I don’t know man...that’s a tough one...you’d get a little annoying after like hour ten."

Paige dropped her jaw in disbelief, looking at Azzi like she’d just been betrayed. "Wowww."

Azzi's eyes sparkled as she looked back at Paige. "Still…I’d rather be stuck in a room with you, Paige."

The way she said it and the way she looked at Paige as she tilted her head slightly, made the words hang in the air for a moment. There was a beat of silence, the slight tension between them clear to everyone in the room. Paige held Azzi’s gaze, and for just a second, neither of them said anything—too caught up in the weight of the moment.

Paige’s smile faded slightly, her heartbeat a little louder in her ears. Azzi blinked, breaking the spell, and leaned back casually in her chair, her grin returning like nothing had happened.

Azzi flipped to the next card, reading it over before glancing at Paige with a curious expression. “Who's the hardest player to guard in college basketball?”

Paige barely hesitated before answering, her voice smooth in the mic. “You.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard for a split second before a slow smirk spread across her face. “Oh?” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Go on.”

Paige rolled her eyes at Azzi’s reaction but continued. “You’re shifty, your release time is basically nonexistent, you can get to the rim, and you never stop moving. It’s annoying.”

Azzi grinned, clearly pleased. “Annoying, huh?”

Paige nodded. “Very.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I give you problems.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “Alright I never said allat.”

Azzi turned to the camera, her smile still present. “You hear that, everybody? Paige Bueckers just admitted that I’m the toughest player she’s had to guard. Basically said she can’t guard me.”

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. “See, this is why I don’t say nice things. Your head gets bigger than it already is.”

Azzi laughed, clearly enjoying every second of Paige’s frustration, before turning back to the camera. "I swear she’s a lot nicer to me when she isn’t in front of a camera."

Paige scoffed, tilting her head slightly. "That’s funny, ’cause I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Azzi smirked. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her eyes locked on Azzi. "Mhm. You act all innocent in front of people, but when it’s just us? Whole different person."

Azzi raised an eyebrow. "What kinda different we talkin'?"

Paige leaned forward, a smile forming on her face. "The kinda different when you’re all over me."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "You’re wild for saying that on camera."

Paige shrugged, her smile growing. "What? It’s not like I’m lying."

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider if she was going to play into this with Paige. "You’re the one who gets all soft when we’re alone. Acting like you don’t melt the second I touch you."

Paige let out a soft laugh. "I don’t melt."

Azzi smirked. "You do."

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look before breaking into quiet laughter, clearly amused by how quickly their conversation had derailed.

"Now look who's flirting on camera," Paige teased.

Azzi shook her head, feigning innocence. "They can cut it out."

Both of them instinctively glanced to the side where the Overtime WBB crew stood, watching. One of the staff members, who had been jotting down notes, simply nodded. "Say no more," she mumbled, scribbling something down—probably making a note to edit out that part.

The staff member finished jotting down notes and looked up at them. "Alright, we’re going to do a speed round of questions to see how well you two know each other which should give us enough to wrap it up for today."

Paige and Azzi both nodded, settling in. Paige glanced at the paper, huffing out a laugh when she saw the question. "What’s my go-to order?"

Azzi snorted. "Chicken tenders and fries."

Paige grinned, satisfied with the answer, but Azzi wasn’t done as she adds, "She eats like a toddler."

Paige gasped. "No, I don’t! They’ve just never failed me. Gotta stick with ole-reliable when I go to new places."

Azzi shook her head, laughing, before reading the next question. "What’s my pregame ritual?"

"You always have to poop right before the game."

"This is true."

Paige continued easily, describing Azzi’s pregame routine as if she had been Azzi’s teammate for years. "But other than that, we both listen to the playlist I made, you tie your shoes a certain way, right first then left, and then you stretch longer than everybody else so you can pretend like—"

Azzi cut her off, eyes widening. "Alright, alright, let’s not spill all my secrets!"

Paige chuckled saying, “What you got opps?”

Azzi mumbles out, “Probably.”

Paige just laughed, shaking her head. She glanced down at her paper again. "What’s one of my pet peeves?"

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "When people chew too loud."

Paige pointed at her. "Facts."

Azzi looked slightly toward the camera before turning back to Paige. "Any time somebody chews loudly, she physically looks like she’s in pain. She’s too nice to say anything, though."

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she moved on. "Alright, what’s something I always say on the court?"

Azzi laughed instantly. "‘That’s off’—you used to only do it when you shot and knew it was about to miss but you’ve started doing it when I shoot now too."

Paige laughed. "Cause you gotta rebound more so I’m tryna help you out."

"Yeah whatever."

Paige gestured for Azzi to go next.

Azzi glanced down at the paper in front of her, skimming a few of them before asking, "What’s my guilty pleasure TV show?"

Paige leaned back in her chair confidently. "Any Bachelor or Love Island spinoff. You swear you don’t care, but then you get way too invested every time."

Azzi playfully rolled her eyes but grinned. "Okay, fair."

Paige wasn’t done. "Then you force me to watch it with you every night and start asking questions like, ‘Why did he pick her over the other girl?’"

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Alright you’re just adding all the extra details to these questions. "

Paige gave her Azzi smile and shrugged. "That’s the game, right?"

Azzi exhaled, looking down to hide her blush before picking her next question. "What’s something random I love?"

Paige didn’t even blink. "The smell of fresh laundry. You always say it’s one of the best smells in the world."

Azzi raised an impressed eyebrow. "I’m surprised you got that one so quick."

Paige shrugged like it was obvious. "That’s because every time you do laundry, you take a deep breath and say, ‘That’s elite’ before you make me fold em."

Azzi covered her face laughing. "Okay, stop exposing me!"

Paige just grinned before asking the next question. "What’s something that instantly annoys me?"

Azzi hummed. "When people take too long to tell a story."

Paige pointed at her again. "Oh my god bro! If you have a five-minute story, please don’t take twenty minutes to tell it."

Azzi shook her head, smiling. "She gets so impatient when people don’t get to the point. I can literally see it on her face. Then she starts fidgeting around like a child."

Paige let out a dramatic sigh. "Because why are you dragging it? Just get to the point!"

Azzi laughed, nodding before glancing at her next question. "What’s one of my biggest fears?"

Paige’s smirk faded slightly as she answered the question softly. "Not reaching your full potential."

Azzi blinked, the playful air between them shifting just for a moment. Paige held her gaze, the answer coming too naturally—reflecting the long conversations and late nights the two of them shared talking about things like that.

Azzi nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said softly before clearing her throat and forcing a smirk. "That and spiders."

Paige let the moment pass and grinned. "Yeah, those too. You basically crawled up my back when there was a spider in my bathroom once"

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, next question."

Paige smirked. It was clear she was enjoying herself. "What’s something I do when I’m overthinking?"

Azzi exhaled, already knowing the answer. "You play with your ring on your finger and if you’re trying to not be too obvious because I’m around you bite the inside of your cheek."

Paige stared at her for a moment before grinning because of course Azzi had picked up on the second one "Okay, stalker."

"I just pay attention to you."

Paige didn’t say anything for a second, just held her gaze with that small smirk of hers.

After a beat of silence—just the two of them smiling at each other—the staff member cleared her throat. "Alright guys thank you. I think that’s good for today."

Azzi turned toward them, flashing a polite smile. "Sounds good, thank you."

Paige, however, was still looking at her, that smirk lingering like she knew something Azzi didn’t.

Azzi stood up, stretching her arms above her head before mumbling under her breath, "Stop staring at me creep."

Paige leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms—eyes never leaving Azzi. "Not my fault you’re in my line of sight."

Azzi rolled her eyes but glanced over her shoulder, seeing which staff members were still lingering around. After a second, she seemed satisfied with what she saw and then turned her attention back to Paige.

She moved closer, standing between Paige’s legs, her presence drawing Paige's gaze upward. The smirk on Paige’s face never faltered.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, a glint in her eyes as she reached out to take Paige’s hand, fingers casually playing with hers. "What?" she asked.

Paige tugged gently at Azzi’s hand, pulling her down into her lap. "I like your hair like that," she said softly, her fingers playing with the ends of Azzi's curls as she settled her more comfortably.

Paige glanced up at Azzi, smiling up at her softly. "This okay pretty?"

Azzi looked around again, checking the room before her gaze returned to Paige. She nodded, her voice quiet. "Yeah," she replied, settling into Paige's lap.

As soon as she got confirmation Paige pulled Azzi into a kiss by her jaw. Azzi’s hand instinctively found its way to Paige's cheek, her fingers tracing her face as she kissed back, both of them losing themselves in the moment for a while.

When they broke apart, Azzi whispered softly, her breath still warm against Paige’s lips, "You did well. I’m proud of you baby."

Paige chuckled, her smirk returning as she leaned back slightly. "Thank you."

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige’s demeanor, her tone teasing as she asked, "Did you like it?"

Paige, still with that same smirk, shook her head playfully. "Nope."

Azzi laughed, her fingers gently running through Paige's hair as she leaned in again, clearly enjoying the playful tension between them. "You're cute," she mumbled affectionately, her lips brushing Paige's temple.

Azzi’s fingers gently continued to play with Paige’s hair, a soft rhythm as they both relaxed into the moment. Paige let her head fall back against the chair completely, closing her eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over her. The warmth of Azzi’s presence beside her always felt grounding.

Azzi, always attuned to Paige’s needs, let her take the brief moment of quiet. She shifted slightly, resting her head against Paige's shoulder, her hand still lightly grazing Paige’s hair as she hummed softly when she smelt Paige’s cologne, content to simply be there.

But the stillness didn’t last for long. A soft voice broke the moment. "Hey, sorry to bother you guys."

Azzi blinked, her eyes opening to see a staff member standing nearby. She straightened up, offering a polite smile, though there was still a relaxed air about her. "No problem," Azzi said.

The staff member looked at both of them. "Just wanted to check in to see if there's anything else from the podcast you want to be taken out, besides that one portion we already talked about?"

Paige opened her eyes, glancing over at Azzi showing she fully expected her to answer it for them.

"I think we're good," Azzi said, giving Paige a quick look to silently confirm. "Just that one part...everything else should be fine."

Paige simply nodded in agreement before closing her eyes again.

The staff member made a quick note on her clipboard. "Alright, cool. Just wanted to check in before we wrap up. You can just message us if anything else comes up."

As the staff member walked off, Azzi shifted back into a more relaxed position, her fingers resuming their movements through Paige’s hair. She mumbled, "Kinda crazy how we spent our off day working."

Paige mumbled in response—her eyes still shut. "Tell me about it."

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, amused by Paige’s tired tone. She leaned in and kissed Paige’s neck gently, the brief contact making Paige grin.

Pulling away just enough, Azzi sat up, looking down at Paige with a small smile. "Let’s get you back to the room before you pass out sleepyhead," she said softly as she helped Paige sit up.

Paige stretched slowly, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she finally met Azzi’s eyes, still smiling. "I’m not sleepy… just...happy I don’t have to talk."

Azzi grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever you say," she replied. Her eyes softened when she noticed the way Paige’s eyes were starting to droop. "You’re gonna pass out the second we get back to the room, aren’t you?"

Paige didn’t answer right away, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she leaned slightly on Azzi as they began to walk was enough of an answer. Azzi shook her head in amusement, offering her a gentle nudge as she led the way toward the door. "I knew it," she mumbled with a grin.

Once small clips of the podcast were released, the attention on Paige and Azzi only grew. The fans were watching more closely if possible, dissecting every interaction, every glance, every touch.

The two of them didn’t mind. Paige who was still reacclimating to the overwhelming attention, was more reserved around fans in general. But one thing she never did was change how she acted with Azzi. Whether cameras were on them or not, Azzi remained within reach—adjusting Paige’s hoodie strings, fixing her chain, brushing something off her sleeve. Small gestures that didn’t go unnoticed because there was no one else on the team doing them.

It was ironic, really. Fans remembered Paige playfully yelling at Ice during a livestream, claiming she hated being touched after Ice bear hugged her. Yet, with Azzi, she never seemed to mind.

Some of the more in-tune fans noticed subtle shifts in their demeanor when they were in public versus when they were on lives or behind the scenes. Paige was usually the protective one—shooting glares at the team when they bothered Azzi, draping an arm around her when she was pouring about something. But when they were at games or events, surrounded by fans, the roles seemed to reverse. Azzi subtly became the protective one.

She was the one gently guiding Paige away from crowded situations, standing just slightly in front of her when fans ran over to them too quickly, placing a hand on her lower back when the attention became too much. People other than just fans were starting to notice.

"Have y’all realized that Paige acts all big and bad with the team but the second they’re in public, Azzi’s the one protecting her???"

"No, let's talk about it bc Azzi is always making sure Paige is comfortable in crowded spaces and I think I’m gonna cry."

…

The event was supposed to be simple—meet fans, take pictures, sign a few autographs. And if this had been two years ago, it probably would have been much calmer. But things had changed.

With the rise in popularity, the number of fans crowding the venue had grown, completely filling the space with excited chatter and eager energy. People called out players' names, some holding jerseys and posters, others just wanting a quick interaction. Paige, despite being a transfer, had been welcomed with open arms. And if there was any doubt before the event, it was clear now—these fans completely adored her.

Azzi was caught up in conversation, taking pictures, signing things, flashing smiles when she needed to, but every so often, her eyes drifted toward Paige.

At first, it was just out of habit—glancing over to check in, to get a quick glimpse of her girlfriend.

But then, the crowd around Paige continued to grow.

Azzi’s stomach tensed as she watched more people press in, everyone trying to get a moment of her attention. At first, Paige didn’t seem to mind. She was still smiling, still quietly answering questions.

But Azzi knew better.

She remembered one night, months ago, when Paige had admitted, almost offhandedly, “Since the accident I get really claustrophobic sometimes. Not all the time, but when too many people are around me, and I can’t move the way I want or go where I want, it just…gets to me I guess.”

Azzi hadn’t forgotten.

Which was why she kept glancing over now, watching the way Paige’s shoulders stiffened just slightly, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. The way she was playing with the ring on her finger was always a clear sign of discomfort.

Azzi didn’t hesitate to make her way towards her after that. She didn’t rush, didn’t make it obvious—just started subtly making her way toward the crowd, offering a few more smiles, taking a couple more pictures along the way.

Azzi was nearly there when she saw Paige tensing as a fan wrapped an arm around her waist for a picture. It might have looked normal to anyone else, just a casual pose for the picture but the fan's arm was pressed securely around Paige’s torso, right where her scar was.

Paige didn’t say anything. She just offered a tight smile, her fingers still idly twisting the ring on her finger relentlessly.

Sliding smoothly into the group, Azzi greeted the fans with her usual warmth, her voice light. “Hey guys, how’s it going?”

The distraction was enough. The fan instinctively loosened her hold as she turned toward her, and in that split second, Azzi slid in. “Mind if I hop in for one?” she asked, flashing her grin. Before the fan could fully process it, Azzi gently moved their arm away from Paige, positioning herself in the middle instead. The way she did it was subtle—done so effortlessly that no one would think twice about it.

The picture was taken, and Azzi smiled at the fan before signing something for her.

After that she turned toward the group smiling as she said, “Sorry, guys, I need to steal her for a second,” already reaching for Paige’s hand to tug her away from the group.

Azzi guided Paige toward the exit, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s back as they weaved through the maze of people. As they neared the door, Azzi caught CD’s questioning look from nearby. With a simple glance, CD silently asked where they were going.

Azzi mouthed, Just taking a quick break.

CD gave a small nod of approval, trusting them both, before turning back to the chaos of the event.

Azzi led Paige toward the team's coach bus, still parked out front. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the heat of the packed venue, and the moment they stepped onto the empty bus, Paige exhaled deeply. They slid into a random seat, and as soon as she was sitting, Paige dragged her hands down her face, finally letting herself breathe.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She knew Paige needed a moment to gather herself. Instead, she just sat beside her, letting the quietness settle between them.

But when she noticed Paige starting to zone out, her eyes becoming unfocused, her fingers idly twisting the ring on her hand again, Azzi reached over and gently took her hand.

“What’s going on in that pretty head?” she asked her softly.

Paige let out a quiet breath, giving Azzi a small, appreciative smile before shaking her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she admitted, “I don’t know if I can do this, Az.”

Azzi’s brows knitted together as she turned toward Paige. “What do you mean?”

Paige let out a slow exhale, her fingers still playing with the ring on her finger. "I don’t know how to do this whole public figure thing anymore," she admitted, her voice quiet. "Before the accident, it was easier. Even though it was hectic, I could handle it—I loved it. But now… everything’s just harder. Social media, interactions, all of it."

Azzi frowned slightly, wanting to ease her worries. "You don’t need to be a public figure to be a basketball player P."

Paige simply gave her a look—one that silently told Azzi they both knew that wasn’t true.

Paige took a deep breath before continuing, her tone filled with frustration. "How am I supposed to be a face of a league team when I can’t even handle a crowd at a damn bowling alley?"

Azzi sighed softly before adjusting, hooking her arm through Paige’s and leaning her head against her shoulder. She reached down, replacing Paige’s hand with her own as she began absentmindedly playing with the ring on Paige’s finger, both of them staring ahead in silence for a moment.

Then, after gathering her thoughts, Azzi finally spoke. "You’re going to be perfectly fine, baby."

She paused, knowing she needed to explain why in a way that made sense to Paige. After a brief moment, she continued, her head still resting against Paige’s shoulder. "You’re so easy for people to love, to root for, to gravitate to."

Azzi lifted her head slightly, glancing at Paige before leaning down and continuing. "The moment you announced you were transferring to UConn, your name was everywhere. Every sports outlet, every social media page—everyone was talking about the return of Paige Bueckers." She paused, her fingers still gently twisting the ring. "You didn’t even have a social media presence and brands still threw the craziest deals at you."

Paige listened quietly, her chest rising and falling steadily as she took in Azzi’s words.

"You went from not being mentioned on draft boards to jumping into the first round after what…four games?" Azzi tilted her head slightly before laughing at herself. "I started rambling and kinda lost my train of thought."

Paige chuckled softly, the sound warm as she kissed Azzi’s head before leaning her own against Azzi’s.

Azzi smiled before letting out a quiet breath. "I guess my point was, I’m saying all of this to remind you that despite everything you went through, despite how much it still weighs on you. How much you still want to work on…you’re a light for everyone else. You’re a genuine person, you have the sweetest soul of anyone I’ve ever met. You’re talented, honest, and just…” Azzi pauses to gather her thoughts, silently thanking the universe for giving her someone like Paige. She continues saying, “You’re just an amazing human baby. And people don’t see that a lot in public figures these days."

Paige closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle.

"You could never post on social media again, you could hire a social media manager to handle everything, and people would still love you," Azzi continued. "They love you even when you don’t interact with them. Just being in the same room as you is enough for some of them. Just getting a glimpse of you—I don’t know if I’m cut out to make the decisions but if I was a GM that sounds like a damn great person to build my team around.”

Paige swallowed, her fingers curling around Azzi’s. She didn’t say anything right away, but the tension in her shoulders slowly began to ease.

Azzi squeezed Paige’s hand gently, grounding her before she continued. "No, you might not be the same Paige from high school—the one who filmed TikToks with kids after games and didn’t mind when hundreds of people waited for her and warmed her." She glanced up, making sure Paige was listening. "But this version of you? This perfect version of you that I love more than anything in this world. You still find time to make people’s day, even when you don’t realize it."

Paige exhaled softly, her body relaxing against Azzi.

"It’s gonna take time to get used to it again," Azzi admitted. "And that’s perfectly fine. Until then, just doing it in small bursts is enough." She played with the ring on Paige’s finger again. "And just so we’re clear—you are not obligated to give your time to anyone."

Paige let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking her head slightly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smile forming. "What?"

Paige turned to her, her blue eyes soft and filled with something Azzi recognized instantly. "I just love you," she whispered. "And I’m so thankful that God brought you into my life."

While Paige was saying this, Azzi's brown eyes were locked onto Paige’s blue ones the entire time. Her heart swelled, a slow smile forming as she whispered, "I love you too beautiful."

Azzi held Paige’s gaze for a moment before suddenly perking up. “One sec,” she said, standing up before Paige could question her.

Paige watched in confusion as Azzi walked toward her actual seat on the bus, rummaging through her bag. “What are you doing?” she said, brows furrowing.

“Hold on,” Azzi replied, focused as she finally pulled something out. She turned back, making her way toward Paige again, a small box now in her hand.

When she reached her, she held it out. “Here,” she said. “Open it.”

Paige looked at the box, then back at Azzi, suspicion flickering across her features. “Azzi…”

Azzi groaned, already anticipating the resistance. “Don’t be difficult.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head before finally lifting the lid. Her breath hitched when she saw the delicate silver necklace inside, a heart-shaped locket resting in the center. She blinked, stunned, before looking back up at Azzi, who was watching her with a soft smile.

“Open the locket,” Azzi said gently.

Paige carefully lifted the necklace from the box, her fingers grazing the cool metal as she unclasped the locket. Inside there was a small picture staring back at her—one of the first pictures they’d taken together. The memory was still so clear even though it seemed like two different versions of them.

A lump formed in Paige’s throat as her fingers trembled slightly, tracing the edge of the locket. No one had ever given her something like this before—something so thoughtful.

Azzi shifted beside her, watching her reaction closely. “You always say I make crowds and things like that easier,” she rambled. “So, I wanted to give you that—so you know I’m always there, even when I can’t be physically next to you.”

Paige took a long exhale, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Slowly, she looked back up at Azzi, her blue eyes glistening.

“Baby…this is beautiful,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the empty bus.

Azzi smiled and reached for the locket. “Here, let me put it on.”

Paige turned slightly, pulling her hair to the side as Azzi unclasped the necklace and carefully fastened it around her neck. Her fingers lingered for a moment, rubbing the back of Paige’s neck gently which only made her chest fill with more warmth.

When Paige let her hair fall back into place, her fingers found the locket resting against her shirt. She held it lightly, rubbing her thumb over the surface. “I love it,” she admitted, her voice softer than before, more vulnerable. “I love you.”

Azzi grinned, nudging Paige’s knee with her own. “I know.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Bro you’re annoying.”

Azzi laughed, nudging her one more time. “I love you too, big head.”

They sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, both knowing they needed to head back inside. With a shared sigh, they stood, their fingers brushing briefly before Azzi stepped toward the door.

Just before they stepped off the bus, Paige gently grabbed Azzi’s wrist, stopping her in place. Azzi turned, a silent question in her eyes, but before she could say anything, Paige tugged her in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips.

Azzi, of course, kissed her back, her hand resting on Paige’s hip, rubbing a few circles against her skin before she pulled away slightly. “You ready to go back to the chaos?”

Paige huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “Not really,” she admitted.

Azzi grinned. “Too bad. I gotta go be the people’s princess.” With that, she grabbed Paige’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze before pulling her off the bus. As they neared the entrance, they made sure to drop their hands, slipping seamlessly back into the world that was waiting for them.

This time, though, Paige felt much better about everything.

[schilders]

tsukishima will sigh and roll his eyes when he finds out you’re sick. but he already has tea, medicine, and a blanket ready before you even ask for them.

“don’t get me sick,” he tells you flatly. yet here he is, sitting next to your bundled up form on the couch, occasionally looking at you from the corner of his eye, making sure you’re alright.

after you have a coughing fit, you look over at him through the bundle of blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in. “sorry, kei,” you apologize, but he just sighs and mutters something under his breath, yet he makes no attempt to move.

you notice when you’re not distracted by the t.v, how he hovers around you. you think it’s odd how he’s moving about like he’s looking for something. “are you alright?” your question is followed by a cough and a lil sniffle, tissue clutched in your hand.

“. . .yes.”

unbeknownst to you, he’s only moving around the way he is so he can keep a closer eye on you without outright saying it.

he acts like he’d rather die than get sick, but you wake up to him adjusting your blanket and replacing your empty glass of water.

“thanks, kei,” your voice surprises him, his eyebrows raise for just a moment before he’s back to his usual look.

“yeah, well. . .”

you end up dozing back off with tsukishima hovering around the back of the couch, making sure you’re alright before deciding to leave you to rest.

it’s when you wake up and find no sign of him, do you think he finally got tired of you and left, only for the front door to open.

he looks momentarily surprised to see you awake, as the medicine you had taken earlier was meant to help you sleep.

“did you buy that for me?”

he looks down at the bag of items clutched in his hand and says nothing as he toes his shoes off before he’s standing in front of you.

taking the bag from his hand, you look at the contents inside and smile up at him. “thanks, kei.” he’d remembered what brand of snacks you liked, and there was more medicine inside too.

he says nothing as he takes his place back on the couch next to you, not really interested in what was on the t.v—but using it as a distraction.

after a while, when it starts to get dark out, you wonder when he’d be heading home. you notice he seems reluctant to go but know he has to leave nonetheless.

“i’ll see you tomorrow then?” you ask when he’s putting his shoes on and just about to head out the door. “thank you again. you didn’t have to stay.”

he huffs, standing to full height, “i don’t have time to deal with a funeral, so try not to die.”

[studiogrimm810]

Agitated

pairings/characters: (pining)dean winchester x gn!reader

summary: you know you're outmatched for a hunt so you call up bobby for some help but instead he sends dean. now you're forced to deal with his cocky attitude and still somehow get this hunt done. this man will be the death of you

warnings: bickering and annoyance, some blood and a fight scene, fadeaway to sex but nothing too graphic

word count: 5,121

A/N: this is a request!!! oh my god i could not stop writing this. i really hope i captured the pure annoyance they have for each other and also framed it into some steamy sexual tension,, idk, lmk how feel about this one!! :):)

———————

This is the worst. The absolute worst. You knew better than to try and go at this hunt alone but you seriously think you’d reconsider if you knew this was the outcome. You got here early, getting a motel room for yourself and eating lunch while waiting for him. Ugh. Him.

There was a nest of at least half a dozen vamps camped out nearby that you’ve been tracking for a while but you’re out of your league here so you called Bobby.

Ah, Bobby. How you loved him. He was quite the mentor for you when you lost your mother. He showed you the ropes, gifted you a car he pieced together on his lot, and offered a listening ear when you needed it. So of course, when you need help, you call him.

Except this time he’s busy so he sends, what he calls his ‘second-best’, Dean fucking Winchester.

God. You had asked if there really wasn’t anyone else he could send but he insisted that Dean was the best he could do. Bobby and Sam apparently were deep into some research for whatever apocalypse they’ve got on their plate now and they could spare Dean for the sake of your safety. Dean needed to hunt anyways, he itched to get back into action.

So now, halfway through rage eating your lunch, you hear the familiar rumble of Dean’s trademark gas-guzzler and plant your face in your hands. If you wanted to successfully complete this hunt then you needed to just take a deep breath and shove aside your irritations.

You finish your lunch and wait for the text or call saying that he’s got a room and is ready to regroup. That call came a lot sooner than expected.

“Hey, Dean,” you greet indifferently.

“Heya, sweetheart,” you can hear his sarcastic smirk and it makes you roll your eyes, “listen, I’ve kinda got a problem here.”

“What?” You try, but fail, to keep the bite out of your voice.

“Motel’s all booked up and the only other one is across town, looks like I’ll have to bunk with you.” God- of course.

“You’re kidding,” you internally groan, biting your tongue.

“Wish I was, sweetheart,” you can hear his own stifled sigh.

“Don’t call me that,” you scold, standing to go to the door and properly greet him. You open the door and he’s leaning against the hood of his car, pocketing his phone and plastering a fake smirk. You’ve noticed he knows how to make you tick. It usually starts as a feigned sweetness but soon sours as you aren’t receptive. He claims he’s trying to keep the peace between you two but you claim he’s full of shit.

“Whatever, princess,” he uses more sarcastically, as if it’s such a high request to ask to be addressed by your own name. “Hope you’ve got the room ‘cause I’m not sleeping on any floors,” Dean states, rounding his car to get his bags out of the trunk.

Fuck. You could shoot yourself if you had the fucking gun.

“Yeah, about that,” you fold your arms over your chest, squinting from the blinding sunlight you’re forced to face to keep looking at him as he moves. Fucking dick.

“No,” Dean demands, his shoulders slacking from lack of effort to keep his bags held. Yep, he’s pissed.

“I never have to share a motel, Dean!” You shrug with an annoyed bitchface. “I’m not all ‘buddy-buddy’ like you and Sam are. I like my privacy.” You squint at him like that’s a dig and not really a chip at your own lonely ego.

“Well I call the bed sweetheart, you can take the couch,” Dean grumbles, scrunching his nose in a mocking manner as he walks past you and into the motel.

Regardless, this was the last room the motel had so it’s not your fault there’s just one bed.

———

“So, you think they’re camped out here?” Dean asks, looking at the map with his arms crossed over his chest. You nod, nibbling on the end of a pen.

“I’ve been tracking them for a while- it’s their kinda hideout,” you add, thinking of different ways to approach this. Dean turns back as if to say something but rolls his eyes at you.

“That’s disgusting,” he points loosely like the oral act isn’t even worth the energy to spotlight.

“Good thing it’s not your pen,” you retort, looking back down at your laptop and refreshing the local news. Dean just scoffs, walking over to the small fridge provided by the motel.

“No beer?” He baffles.

“I’m not an enabler,” you sass, finding it your current life’s mission to kick him at any turn. God, the nerve to come into your room, make his snippy comments at your fidgets, and bash you for not keeping beer on tap like a fucking bartender. You couldn’t wait for this to be over.

“And I’m not an alcoholic.”

Ha, yeah okay.

You scroll around the 3D map on your laptop, looking for different access points of the rundown building but the shitty satellite rendering is too blurry and bubbly to really make anything out.

“Seriously? That’s what you’ve been wasting your time with?” Dean raises a brow.

“I’m checking my bases, Dean, back off,” you groan, leaning back in your chair and rubbing a hand down your face.

“Just sayin’, you’ll get more info first hand, princess, may as well just get on with it,” Dean insists, “not like we have any way to pass the time,” he’s not letting this beer thing go.

“Fine! Let’s just go, guns blazing,” you sit up, scooting back your chair with the force of which you popped up. You go to ruffle through your bag, grabbing a long sleeve shirt to slip over your tank top.

“You’re gonna be cold,” Dean says plainly.

“Shut up,” you shoulder-check him on the way out.

———

The sun is starting to set, casting a beautiful golden haze across the horizon. You two are headed north so thankfully the sun isn’t blinding your peripheral but instead Dean’s.

The drive is quiet other than the hum of some 80s band, or whatever it is Dean is obsessed with, on the radio. It’s weird, you don’t know why your hatred for Dean blossomed so naturally but it just did. Since the second you were disappointed to find that that is who was the sweet Sam Winchesters brother you’ve been irked by just the reminder of his presence.

He probably started it anyway.

The Impala starts to slow as you two come up to the hidden gravel drive for the abandoned building on Dean’s GPS. The rumble of gravel crunching under the tires is a satisfying dig in your ears.

Dean parks the Impala so you two can go the rest of the way on foot. You both gear up and sneak along the tree line until the building is in sight. It’s an old rangers station- blanketed with moss and vines, shards of glass poking out of crunched window frames, entrance doors missing- it looked completely vacant.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say your hunch was wrong,” Dean straightens out of his pre-fight stance. You don’t offer him a response, you just step past him to the entrance to see if there’s even a hint of this being the right place.

There’s nothing.

God, how could you be so stupid? You felt a pit of embarrassment swirl its way around your insides. You couldn’t confront Dean right now. You couldn’t deal with his sarcastic quips.

You have to though, you have to face him to get back to the Impala and back to your shared room. This was torture.

What if more people get hurt because you didn’t find the right spot? The longer you sit and stew the more likely that is to be true. You have to just keep your head on straight and find the next lead.

So with that, you spin on your heel and head back to the Impala. “I don’t wanna hear it,” you mumble as you pass him, this time shifting your shoulder out of the way so you don’t bump into him.

You miss the way Dean’s features soften with understanding and guilt and he decides to keep his mouth shut.

The drive back for you was thick with tension. Your mind ran with how to go about the situation next. What lead to follow and what instincts to trust because apparently this one was wrong.

The drive back for Dean, however, was different. He kept the music to a volume he knew wouldn’t bother you as much and he drummed along to the beat on his steering wheel with his fingers casually, hoping the common habit of his will show that he’s not angry and how you shouldn’t blame yourself so much. That even if it feels as detrimental as it does that in reality it’s not a big deal but just a failed lead.

He doesn’t use his words though. He’s offering common decency and not pleasantries.

You’re quick to duck into the motel as soon as the car is in park and recenter yourself at the drawing board.

Dean hesitates, finding it annoying how much you’re beating yourself up over this. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Maybe it’s because he understands the guilt of not being good enough. Maybe it’s because he just doesn’t want to be around some mopey child. Maybe he doesn’t have to know.

“There have been a few disappearances- the last location they were all seen is this bar. Maybe we could start there,” you’re starting to doubt yourself.

“I agree,” Dean nods from behind you. You turn to look at him, a little taken back by his compliance. No shoving and no pushback.

“Really?” You cock a brow, still finding it odd that he hasn’t bashed you more for your screw up earlier.

“Yeah, I think that’s the next step,” Dean repeats, the annoyance of having to do so showing in his tone. You squint slightly as if waiting for him to say something else but he doesn’t.

“Fine, let’s go,” you walk right back out of the room and to the Impala, not bothering with your jacket or keys.

Dean snatches your keys from the kitchen table and locks up the room. You could thank him but why thank him for locking a door? It’s not like he did anything special.

The bar was in the middle of town so the drive consisted of a lot of turns but was still rather swift. You reach for the door knob but Dean stops you.

“What?” You ask defensively.

“That look normal to you?” Dean points, not matching your tone. What is up with him?

You follow his point, finding a couple making out against the side of the brick building. They look drunk and disoriented but nothing too out of the ordinary for a Friday night outside of a bar.

“He’s faking,” Dean adds, keeping his eyes on the couple but taking your silence as confusion. “He’s not drunk.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Watch,” he leans in a little closer to see them from your angle. “When she kisses his neck he loses his ‘daze’. You can see him scan-, there!” He cuts himself off as the man across the parking lot does exactly what Dean is describing. You look a little closer now, seeing a slimy smirk lift the man’s lips as he grabs the woman with a bit more force.

“Dammit,” you mumble, straightening up in your seat a bit. Before either of you can get out of the car in time, the woman is shoved into a nearby truck and the man climbs in after. Dean fires up the engine and follows the truck from a safe distance.

You beat yourself down a bit, wondering how you managed to miss something so clear. You would’ve overlooked them without a second thought and they turned out to be your next lead. Were you really this bad of a hunter? Maybe Dean was right to have such little trust in you.

“How damn cold do you keep this car?” You hound, wrapping your arms over your chest to try and churn some warmth over yourself.

“I told you you’d be cold,” you could hear the eye-roll without even looking at him. You stare out the window, Dean still staying on the truck's tail.

A few moments pass and you continue to ignore him. “God, if you’re gonna pout about it,” he adjusts, grabbing a spare flannel of his from the back seat, “here.”

“I’m not pouting,” you scoff.

“Sure you’re not. Just take it,” he shoves it in your lap and you hesitate to touch it. “I’m not diseased, princess, you can borrow my clothes. Won’t kill ya’.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, grabbing the flannel and slipping it over your arms. The cloth settles over your skin like a warm blanket and you have to force yourself to ignore how much it smells like him. You feel a need to thank him again but seriously, was it really that special or was he just doing the bare minimum? Or perhaps you were too embarrassed to thank him because doing so would admit that you didn’t entirely dread his presence.

Dean glances over to make sure you actually put it on and hasn't discarded one of his favorite flannels- which he would take as an act of war quite frankly- but is a little stunned to see how homey it makes you look. You're practically drowning in the tarp of cloth, but the way it melts with your skin catches his eyes for a bit too long. To see your hair settle over the pattern like a claim makes him want to never look away.

But he has to because he’s driving and just nicked the rumble strips.

“Driving at night is hard, huh?” You tease, “heard it gets that way with old age.”

“Hey! I’m not that much older than you,” he defends, forcing his eyes in the road ahead and the truck to follow. He can’t let himself wonder why you caught his attention so intensely or why he’s itching to look back for another peek.

Finally, after what felt like years to Dean, the truck turns off into a driveway of an older farm house. Dean drives past and parks off the side of the road around a turn where they won’t be spotted.

Now it’s time to really gear up, but this time it’s a little different. Dean finds himself wanting to make extra sure that you’re set and that you have any possible weapon you might need.

“Stay close, don’t split up under any circumstance,” Dean instructs. He hadn’t done that last time and you want to combat him because who is he to tell you what to do? But the wind brushing over you too carries his scent past your nose again and it’s almost like it shuts you up completely. You just nod in response.

The night sky rained over you two, soft pelts of misty rain dampening your clothes and you’re now really starting to feel thankful for the offered flannel, maybe you should’ve said something. But as you near the home, you reckon it’s not the right time to mention a lousy ‘thanks’ for such a simple offer.

Dean picks the lock of the back door and you follow him in, machete in hand. You can hear voices and laughter flowing from what you guess to be the main room. Dean halts right along the door frame, ducking in to count what they’re up against, he holds up 3 fingers to you and you nod.

On his signal, you both pounce.

The fight is brutal on your muscles since you often forget just how strong vamp’s are. The one you’re up against is at least a foot taller than you and is bulkier than is really fair, but you use the advantage of being smaller to slip out of his grasp and decapitate him from behind.

Dean is next to take care of his opponent and now it’s two against one. The vamp comes after you first, probably thinking you’re a quicker target, but Dean intercepts and slams the vamp

against a wall. You take this opportunity to go to the woman from earlier who is huddled in a corner, watching in horror as this happens.

Thankfully, she is physically unharmed and the adrenaline of the situation has burned through the alcohol she had ingested.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you shake your head with arms braced to show you aren’t a threat. “Can you walk?” You ask. She nods. “Good, okay,” you reach over to the pocket of one of the vamps, seeing a set of keys hooked to his belt loop, and hand the keys to her. “The truck outside. Take it and go- now.”

She snatched the keys and bolts. You breathe a breath of relief at how easy it was to get her out of here. You turn to see that Dean is still fighting the creature and you jump to your feet, approaching them. You bring up your weapon but the vamp sees you in time and shoves you hard. You stumble into a dusty china cabinet and hear Dean call your name. The impact rattles through your body but you have to help. You have to.

Getting to your feet takes a moment, but a pained gasp sets you with a fresh rush of adrenaline. The vamp has latched its teeth into Dean’s neck. He’s paralyzed with pain, raspy breaths barely escaping his gaped lips. That’s all the fucking power you need. You ram into the vamp, getting him to unhook his jaw and throwing him to the ground. In the blood drunken haze, you’re able to rid of its head with a quick swipe of your machete.

Dean groans, sliding against the wall and you drop your weapon, running to him.

“Hey-, you’re okay,” you speak before you have enough evidence to believe it. “You with me?”

“Y-Yeah,” he pants, his head going slack on the side he wasn’t bitten. It’s deep.

“Okay, hold on,” you say, reaching down to rip off a good portion of your shirt to cover the bleeding. He reaches out to stop you. “Don’t worry, it’s not your precious flannel I’m tearing up,” you actually joke. Not as a mock or tease but as an actual joke that you smile for to show your lightheartedness.

“With you? I’d never know what to believe,” he comes back. He doesn’t seem to have enough energy to smile but you can tell the initial joke was receptive.

He hisses as you press the cloth against his wound, your other hand cupping his cheek to keep him in place. His intense screw of pain seems to melt a bit under your touch.

“We gotta get you outta here, big guy,” you pat his cheek lightly, trying to keep him present. “How dizzy you are, can you walk?” You ask, unsure of how much blood he’s lost.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he slurs. Dumbass.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” you huff, removing your free hand to grab his own hand. You swear he whined when you did so, but it was so quiet and could’ve been excused as a draw of pain. “Hold tight, okay?” You instruct. You knew if he had enough energy he would be batting you away and demanding he knew how to handle a wound like this and it almost worries you that he’s not. “C’mon,” you snake your arm around his back, lifting him the best you can and thankfully he works with you. You’re really gonna have to start saying your thanks out loud.

You lead him out the front door and curse as the rain has picked up. You can’t walk him through this- between the blood loss and getting wet, he’ll freeze. You set him in a semi-stable looking chair and use your hands to steady his face. The reaction he gives you when your skin lands on his stirs a curiosity in you.

“Wait here, keep applying pressure, I’m gonna get the car,” you enunciate so he can really hear you.

“Ain’t no way in hell I’m letting you drive my baby,” he slurs but you're already fishing through his leather jacket pockets.

“Try and stop me, pretty boy,” you say it as a tease- reprimand for the nicknames he’s bugged you with- but it rolls off your tongue with more meaning than you intended.

He doesn’t fight you as you head off to the hidden location of the Impala. The rain drenched you quickly but you don’t let that slow you down. Dean needs you.

Dean would fight more- he really would. If this were a situation where you needed him or Sammy needed him, he could fight past the haze of blood loss. He could drive his own damn car to safety. If he really needed to, he’s sure his body could supply enough adrenaline to power him through his own petty pain. But that’s just it. He doesn’t need to, and in all reality he can’t but it’s just that if he convinces himself that he’s choosing to let you take care of him then that’s less embarrassing then failing you.

He forces on his consciousness, waiting for the familiar growl of his precious Baby. His chariot to take him far from here and to shelter him in times of need.

And there it is.

He peels his eyes open enough to see you emerge for his car and goddamn. Your clothes are wet and stuck against your skin- his flannel hugging your torso like he should be. To see you in his clothes and in the driver's seat of his car is enough to feel his heart stutter.

“Let’s get you situated,” you announce, slipping your arm to its previous hold around his body. He stands with more strength now and you feel your worry dampen. Dean doesn’t argue and doesn’t make a comment about you driving his car again but he does mumble something about you letting him get in the car by himself so you can get out of the rain. You don’t listen and it ignites the familiar burn of anger in his chest that he’s actually used to with you.

After making sure he’s settled, you close his door and round back to the driver's side, pulling out of the driveway and carefully navigating through the foggy rain and back to the motel.

Light conversation buzzes between you in a primary attempt to keep him awake but also a secondary want to continue to just chat. You’ve never really just talked with him like this before. When you first met, he was quick to flirt and when you weren’t receptive you assumed he took it to heart and turned cold on you. You don’t recognize that Dean right now in the slightest.

He’s able to walk by himself by the time you make it back to the motel. He stumbles out of the car in a stubborn attempt to prove such but you remind him that just because he technically can doesn’t mean he should be expected to. He doesn’t mention how much your statement actually resonates with him.

“Sit,” you instruct, placing him on the king bed that reminds you of your sleeping arrangements. It’s a subtle irk but not enough for you to dwell on again, you have bigger problems to deal with at present. You grab your first aid kit and shuffle through the items and get to work.

The heat is blasting and you managed to get a towel to wrap around his damp frame to keep him from shivering but he’s also got enough energy to combat you, so now you’ve ended up with the towel around your shoulders.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask as you pour the disinfectant over the wound. He hisses but answers the distraction in the form of a question.

“Fine, sweetheart, don’t worry about me,” he says in his usual gruff. No longer slurring. Progress.

“Too late,” you murmur, cleaning the stained blood.

“Awe, someone starting to care? Who gave you a heart?” Dean smirks. You don’t entertain the usual banter.

“You could’ve died,” the words pass your lips with a slight waver. You dry the wound, starting to dress it.

“But I didn’t,” Dean reminds, his eyes watching yours for any hint as to why you got so freaked.

“Yeah,” you say out of obligation and not belief.

“Hey,” he reaches up to stop your working hands and when you don’t meet his gaze and calls your name. “I’m okay,” he repeats once your eyes meet his- you couldn’t help yourself with the way your name sounded on his tongue. “I’ve survived a lot worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s meant to.”

You sigh, looking down at his hands around your own now idle ones.

“Okay,” you finally agree, hoping the false belief will settle your nerves enough.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me,” he jokes with a smirk, “you know how persistent I can be,” he winks and you roll your eyes even if his wink bubbles something in you that’s never been effected by him like that before.

“Shut up and let me finish this,” you push aside his hold and secure the bandage to his skin. After packing back up the kit you start to stand but Dean stops you. His hand grips your wrist gently but the gravity of something not physical pulls you against your will. His lips part like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. He almost looks ashamed as he drops his hold on you like it’s burned him.

“What?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

“Nothin’, sorry,” he shakes his head, averting his gaze.

“You can tell me,” it’s not something you’d ever expect to offer but you can quite help yourself when he looks so pathetic.

“We should get into some dry clothes.”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, knowing that’s not what he was talking about but accepting it as it is. You grab your bag and get out some comfortable clothes for sleep. You excuse yourself to the bathroom but curse at the broken latch.

“No peeking,” you warn after alerting Dean to the issue and he just scoffs a smirk.

“No promises.” And fuck, he’s glad he didn’t make it because through the crack he catches a glimpse of your shimmering skin as you dry off and replace your outfit with a pair of sleep shorts and a way too big shirt. He admires the cozy feel your clothes give you. As you exit the bathroom he clears his throat and busies himself with getting his bed ready on the couch.

“What’re you doing?” You ask as he lays a blanket over the couch.

“Getting ready for bed,” he says as if it’s a stupid question.

“We can share a bed, Dean, it won’t kill ya,” you use his own remark from earlier against him. You don’t know why he’s suddenly so docile. You worry maybe the injury burned him of his usual spark. “Seriously, don’t make me watch you sleep crunched up on that couch,” you insist.

“Fine,” he subsides, making his way back over to you and the bed. You start to crawl under the covers, sticking to your side but the radiating heat of how close he is makes you want to scooch closer.

“Night, Dean,” you say as he flicks the lamp off but he’s quiet and unmoving, like he has some sort of unfinished business. You push yourself up on your elbow and look back at him sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay seriously, what’s up with you?”

No response.

“Dean?”

He sighs, turning to look back at you as well. His profile is illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from a split in the curtains.

“Thank you,” his voice is small like you’ve never expected he was capable of. You sit up fully, turning to him with your legs folded.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you shake your head, a small smile pulling up your lips. He doesn’t return the expression.

“You’re a good hunter, yaknow,” he compliments like he won’t get another chance to tell you so. You smile a bit bigger.

“Dean Winchester, did you just flatter me?” You tease.

“You’re strong and resilient,” he continues and your smile falters a bit due to your confusion. “Stubborn and a pain in my ass,” his expression remains a softened yearn. “I never knew why you got to me so damn  bad. You’re smart and funny and captivating,” he snaps his jaw like he crossed a line and his cheeks flush. “I- I think I know now,” he finishes after a beat.

“Know what?” You ask, your heart puttering in your chest.

“Why I can’t get you off my mind,” his eyes dip down to your lips, “why, no matter what I do, I can’t forget you,” he looks so pained. So conflicted.

It hits. It all hits. His helpful offerings, your banter, the way he responded to your touch, and the way you felt yourself reciprocating his apparent feelings.

You lean in, you can’t help it, he’s so beautiful in this light- the way his eyes sparkle under it- but he tenses as you get too close so you halt.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask with a simple head tilt.

“I uh-, haven’t got that one worked out just yet,” he scoffs simply and his smile forces a small one of your own.

“Then just shut up for a minute,” you shake your head, leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. It’s almost a ghost of a kiss but you can feel the emotion he funnels into it. He’s soft and gentle at first but his desperation takes over, leading the kiss through a dizzying spiral as he guides you into the mattress, hovering over you and encapsulating you with his radiating heat.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop kissing you until you’re unsure where your clothes have ended up. He doesn’t stop kissing you until you forget your own name. He doesn’t stop kissing you until your breathless pants slow from your high.

And when all is said and done, he doesn’t stop holding you through the night until the warmth of the sun blesses your exposed skin.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

>tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(x)

It had basically become a running joke—no matter where you went, Jungkook would just… show up. Every city, every café, every Airbnb. Like it was totally normal.

At first, you thought it was just him being stubborn. But after a few weeks, it became clear—he wasn’t going to stop.

Honestly, you were starting to think he enjoyed the long drives more than actually seeing you.

And every time he showed up, he somehow ended up crashing at your place. It happened so often that even your coworkers at the café started noticing.

“You guys sure you’re just friends?” one of them asked, eyeing Jungkook as he leaned lazily against the counter, waiting for you to finish your shift.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“Uh-huh,” another one chimed in. “Because totally normal ‘friends’ drive six hours just to hang out.”

Jungkook smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, Y/N. What kind of friend does that?”

You shot him a look. “The annoying kind.”

He just chuckled.

___

One night, after a long shift, you called Jungkook just to chat. You weren’t feeling great, and the second he heard you cough, he immediately switched to full-on drama mode.

“Jeez, Y/N, you sound like a grandpa who’s been chain-smoking since dinosaurs existed.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s super comforting.”

“Did you take medicine?”

“Not yet. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable answer. Because the next day, while you were curled up in bed, there was an obnoxiously loud knock at the door.

You dragged yourself over, opened it, and—

“What the— Jeon Jungkook?!”

There he stood, looking way too proud of himself, holding a bag full of medicine, snacks, and—was that a hot water bottle shaped like a bear?

He breezed past you like he owned the place, dumping the bag on the table. “You sounded like death last night, so I took half a day off to bring you this.”

You blinked at him. “You drove two hours… just to bring me medicine?”

“Yup.”

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “that’s such a waste of time! I could’ve just bought it myself.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “A waste of time? Wow.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“And let you avoid me for a week? No thanks.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes. “What?”

“You do this every time. The moment you get sick, you start avoiding me like I’m the plague because you’re scared I’ll catch it.”

You flopped onto the couch, exhausted. “Well, yeah?” you frowned. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I don’t care if I get sick, Y/N,” he muttered. “I just don’t like it when you avoid me.” He sat beside you, handing you a warm bottle of tea.

Your chest tightened.

You knew Jungkook wasn’t a fan of distance. But you never realized it actually bothered him when you avoided him while sick.

You sighed as you took the bottle from his hand. “It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he murmured, pouting. “But… I guess I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip.

“…You’re not gonna lose me, idiot,” you muttered.

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, his usual cocky grin softening into something… real.

“Good. Now take the damn medicine before I force-feed it to you.”

You groaned. “And there it is.”

“Dead people don’t complain, Y/N. Take. The. Pills.”

You swatted his hand away as he tried to open the bottle for you, but deep down, you knew.

This wasn’t just friendship anymore.

And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind that at all.

[weirdtvland]

Blondean Taylor: Blondean was fairly known for being a singer in the girl group "Cornel Gunter and The Flairs." Blondean quickly left the group to travel as Etta James' companion. Etta James described Blondean as a sexy, long-legged brown beauty who could have any man she desired. Etta was touring with a lot of male acts like Little Willie John, Bo Diddley, Jackie Wilson & Clifton Chenier. Blondean basically could bat her eyelashes at any man and have him that night. She was adventurous and quickly caught Little Willie John's eye. Etta revealed in her book that Bo Diddley had adult films on his camera. He would go door to door while on tour to see the other acts hooking up with different women. One particular night, Blondean was buck naked in bed with Little Willie John with her legs wide open. Bo was recording Willie playing with Blondean's cookie while Little Richard watched. Blondean was even wilder than this, Etta James confessed she slept with her father. She invited Blondean to stay in her house, and with her father Sarge, and within a week of staying, Etta noticed signs of Blondean sleeping with him. "Well, a fool could see that Sarge was going around the house whistling and smiling and acting a whole lot happier than usual. At first, they kept it hidden from me, but I knew: Daddy and Blondean were bumping. She had to be giving the old man some head. When it came down to head, Blondean was the queen. My own head was aching. I didn't want to think about my father sleeping with my friend, but that's what's been happening. They just got more open about it, and the more I got upset. I'm no prude, but this, after all, was my daddy, my authority figure when I was a kid. I tried to tell Blondean how I felt, but she just smiled and did as she pleased. "Sarge is a sweet man," is all she said. "I like your daddy."You bet your sweet ass you do!" I replied. "But why you gotta be messing with him?" I should've saved my breath. There was no reforming Blondean. And truth be told, there was no reforming me."

Lovers: Little Willie John.

Can you give us a rundown on all rockstars black lovers?

I could give a you a few but there was a lot of black lovers back then, it wasn’t too far fetch there was a lot of rockstars who slept with a black woman. I’ll do multiple threads because I sometimes can’t think of all of them. For starters of course, Mick! He’s slept with a bunch of black women, but then again he’s English, he doesn’t care. Cleo was his first love, PP Arnold dated him and gave details about their affair in her book “Soul Survivor”, I’ve heard he’s slept with Inez Foxx from the brother- sister duo, he’s been around Patti Labelle and the BlueBells and I’ve heard rumors about him sleeping with Patti and Cindy Birdsong (before she was a supreme) also read in a book somewhere that Nona Hendryx possibly slept with Keith, he’s gotten with Claudia Lennear from the Ike & Tina Revue, several black models (maybe Donyale Luna she used to do his makeup, Pat Cleveland, I know there’s more but can’t think of them) I know his slept with black groupies Devon Wilson & Winona Williams, Marsha Hunt, Ava Cherry was doing threesome with him and David Bowie, Estelle Bennett from the The Ronettes, and Rae Dawn Chong while they were filming a movie together.

[rayyanishere1]

"Studying? Yeah, Totally."

A Short FiddleStan Oneshot

(Part of the Loser Ford AU, but isn't relevant to the lore whatsoever lmao)

One night, Ford announced that he'd be at the library for a couple of hours.

"Knock yourself out, Sixer."

Once he left, Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other.

"Wanna..?"

"You don't even have to ask."

Stan led Fiddleford to the couch with only one motive in mind.

Forcing him to watch trashy television! They spent good money on that TV, and by God, they were gonna use it.

"Ladies and Gents, welcome back to 'Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong!' The show where you don't win prizes, but you don't get punished, either. I'm your host, Zain Squalus—"

Ah, yes, gameshows. The peak of entertainment.

"Is this really what you wanna watch?"

"It's either this, weird chick dramas, or the news."

Welp, can't argue with that.

Fiddleford tried many times to make a move; pretending to yawn to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder, not very subtly inching his hand towards Stan's thigh. Hell, he tried to go in for a kiss at least 3 times!

Without fail, something would make Stan dodge his advances. Oh, he suddenly has to shift a little in the opposite direction to grab something, oh, something shocking happened and he needed his whole body to react to it.

Seems fate was planning on cockblocking Fiddleford today. Not cool, man. Not cool.

During a commercial break, Stan left to get some snacks. That gave Fiddleford some time to think.

It was obvious that subtlety was getting him absolutely nowhere. He just had to be a little more direct, right? Yeah, that's definitely it.

Stan returned with a bowl of chips and sat back down. Now was time for Fiddleford's master plan.

He used every tactic he knew all at once. Wrapping an arm around Stan's shoulder, leaning in closer. Maybe he should also try getting Stan's mind off of this weird gameshow he was so invested in...

"You know, Stanley, we're home alone."

"I would hope so, yeah."

"And we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, we are! We're watching Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong, the totally original gameshow based in Oregon."

"I just thought that, with Stanford gone, we'd be doing something else."

"...I don't follow."

That's Stan Pines for you, folks. The dumbest genius on Earth.

"Stanley..."

Fiddleford didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, he decided that his plan of being direct was the right way to go.

"Stanley Pines."

"That's my name. Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to be if you don't kiss me right now."

"Haha, what?"

∆∆∆

The TV buzzed on in the background as they practically devoured each other's faces.

"Fidds, if you were this—hah—pent up, you could've just told me.."

"I tried to! For an entire hour!"

"Wait, really?"

"Lord, yes! I suppose something was keeping you from noticing."

"Uh huh.."

Deeming the couch to be too uncomfortable, Fiddleford took it upon himself to bring them somewhere more suitable for their.. Activity.

He picked Stan up like he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom.

Many kisses later, the two were shirtless and all over each other. It was like they were trying to fit multiple days worth of making out into one session. To be fair, though, it wasn't often that they had alone time like this.

Stan pulled away for a moment, much to Fiddleford's dismay.

"Ford's been out later than usual. He could come back any minute..."

Just as he said that, they heard the front door open.

Oh, God.

They rushed to put something on, not bothering to check what they had grabbed. If Ford saw them like this, in their shared space, Lord knows they'd never hear the end of it.

"Wait, are you wearing my—"

Too late to change now!

A few lazy knocks came from the door before Ford went in. He didn't even look at them, he just dropped his bag on the floor and flopped face first onto his bed.

Stan sighed in relief. It was a good thing that Ford was so tir—

"Wait."

The couple tensed up, expecting to get berated for their "inappropriate behaviour." Instead, Ford just took his glasses off and put them on his side table before promptly passing back out.

That was close...

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 15

Synopsis: You’re angry at Red Hood, not Jason.

Notes: so, this got really angsty at the end. I don’t know what happened. I knew ya’ll where so excited to have our boy back, and everything with Jason is fine, but Red hood… it's rough. Anyway, I guess, enjoy?

Masterlist

When you woke from your nap, you did a mild pick-up of your apartment (not really, just moved things around so it looked more organized), then you sat on your couch to watch TV. You hated it. Your mind would lose focus and wander to other things, things you didn’t want to think about. It led to you staring at your hands far too many times, picturing blood that was no longer there.

You noticed that your knuckles were dried out, cracking a little. It was odd. In the three years you’d lived in Gotham, you never had an issue with dry skin, considering it was an island on water. You rub at the chapped skin and realize you’ve been overwashing your hands without thinking about it. Neither the girls nor Jason had mentioned it, although with how you keep your apartment, you imagine they didn’t think anything of it. You were having a serious Macbeth moment that worried you, but what else could you do?

At the usual designated time slot, you unlocked your window and waited. And waited. And waited. Nearly three o'clock in the morning, you startle awake on your couch. You practically jump over to the window, having heard a noise on the fire escape, but you find nothing more than one of the neighbor's cat on the fire escape. It blinks at you before scampering up the stairs on the escape. You sigh and accept that he isn’t coming tonight.

The upset that had simmered over the past few days returns. You collect his jacket from where it hangs by your door and march to your window. You shove it open, shivering from the cold air, and toss the jacket onto the escape. There was no reason for you to hold onto it. If he wanted it, he could come and get it because obviously, he didn’t want to talk to you, so you didn’t want to talk to him.

You went to bed upset and tossed and turned for the rest of the early morning. By seven o'clock, you gave up on the idea of sleeping. You paced around your apartment before you came to an understanding with yourself. Cass and Steph were right, you couldn’t stay at home forever. That, and you really needed a distraction, even if it was only for four hours.

****

Jason had been worried on patrol all night. Steph and Cass had reported to him that overall, you seemed okay, if not a little overwhelmed in crowded places. He was shocked when they said they had taken you shopping, surprised you willingly left your apartment. He was mostly happy to know that you were on the up-and-up of your traumatic experience much faster than he would’ve thought. Or at least a little bit. They had told him that while you hadn’t rushed them out the door, there was a certain relief on your features as they were leaving, no doubt about finally having an evening for yourself after constantly having people around.

It’s the reason he didn’t show up that evening, at least that you saw. He had stopped by in his old way, across the street on the roof, around one in the morning. He could see your TV running and spotted the lump that was you asleep on the couch. White noise, he assumed. The TV would be better than silence. He didn’t even check the window, just threw a longing glance at your apartment before moving on his patrol, you constantly in the back of his mind. You clearly needed the time alone, which is why he was surprised when he received a text from you about mid-morning.

You: I’m going to work today walk me home?

He didn’t even respond; just picked up the phone and called you. You answered immediately.

“I only tease you about technology, I know you know how to respond to a text.” Is the first thing you say. Jason can feel the tension leave his shoulders just at the sound of your voice. He shakes his head and refocuses.

“Sweetheart,” had he paused, he would have heard the audible pleased sigh that escaped your lips at the name, “are you sure you're ready to go back to work?”

“I don’t really have a choice. I already called Jackie and told her I would come to work half a shift.” You're clearly making up a reason not to back out, dependable.

“I’ll call back and tell them you changed your mind.” He states, not wanting you to force yourself into it.

“Worry not, I haven’t changed my mind.” You tease. The lilt of your voice when you get like this was something Jason hadn’t realized he missed. You were doing better if your attitude was anything to show for it. After a moment of silence, Jason caught up in the sound of you getting ready for work, you repeat the question you had texted.

“Will you come walk me home?” He answers quickly, easily, despite how tired he was from his night of patrol and bad sleep (worrying about you).

“Course. What time do you get off?” There’s a clatter on the other end of the line (a surprised drop from how quickly he answered), and he’s about to ask if everything is okay, but you respond, rushed, about when you get off.

“And what time do you go in? I can walk you to work, too.” He offers. He hears you suck in a stuttered breath all movement stopping.

“It’s okay, Jay. Daylight hours, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him. Jason wouldn’t admit it aloud, but his stomach fluttered at the way you said Jay. You had never called him that before and even though it was just a shortened version of his name, you said it so sickly sweet that it got to him.

“Alright,” He concedes only because he knows you might berate him if he asked if you were sure about it. He manages to keep you on the phone until you're nearly to work, idle silence mostly filling the space between you two. He enjoyed learning that you talk to yourself sometimes as you get ready, and you will share whatever you see with him as you walk, a dog, some trash on the street, or a motorcycle that made you think of him. You had rushed a goodbye to him just as you opened the door to Jackie’s. He eyed the time. Four hours to waste.

Jason only lasted three hours before he showed up at Jackie’s. He parked his bike in its usual spot in front of your building and tried to take his time walking. It didn’t work. You were walking by with a plated muffin as he opened the door. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, and you greeted him happily.

“Jason!” You held the plate away from your body as you leaned towards him, and without thinking, he pressed a kiss to your temple, hand on your shoulder to steady you. When he pulls back to really look at you, he finds your under-eyes puffy and your eyes red, like you’d been crying. He’s about to ask you about it, but you were off to drop the muffin. He hesitates at the door, wondering if he should sit or wait for you to come back. You stop at the table and start talking to the customers. He takes that as his cue to sit down.

He brought his book like always, considering he was early anyway. He reads, periodically glancing up like you'll materialize right in front of him. He becomes focused on his book when you appear. You set his designated drink on the table and sit down in the booth next to him, sliding until your touching, thighs and shoulders pressed. You sag against the seat, and he nearly does the same. He turns his head to look at you, an odd angle, but he doesn’t want to pull away. Your hand wiggles where your thighs meet, and without a second thought, his fingers curl around yours.

“Hi.” Your voice is drained, but you look happy as you settle your chin on his shoulder to meet his eye.

“Hi,” he replies, and before he can ask you his question, you answer.

“I’m okay,” you say with a grin.

“Then why do you look like you’ve been crying?” He brings his free hand to press at your cheek, thumb rubbing at the delicate skin under your eye. Your eyes flutter, and you pull your face off his shoulder and out of his hand.

“Darla brought her granddaughter in.” Your eyes start to water again. “She was so cute and just so small,” your hand leaves his to show him, “Her little head fit in my hands.”

Jason nearly laughs at you for crying about a baby, but the way you pout at him makes him stop. He pats your thigh as a means to comfort you.

“Okay, but you seemed high-spirited when I came in,” he says. You roll your eyes and bring your hand up to swipe at a tear.

“Because Darla brought her granddaughter in,” you say it like it’s obvious, like he’s just being silly for asking the question. He gives you a look, and you shake your head.

“Between Darla and baby Claire, the girls, and you, it was a good reminder that life is long and not just the now. Not everything is bad, there’s still good in the world.” You add, picking at your cuticles. Jason understands now, maybe a little too much. He had spent a year trying to take over Gotham and get back at Bruce. A year with nothing good shining through the darkness. Focusing just on the bad will do that. You seem more even-balanced than he ever was. A silence settles between you two, it's not awkward, though. You stop picking at your hands and settle your head on his shoulder.

“I think I'm tired, too,” you murmur. “It’s making me a little sensitive, I think.” The silence returns, your hands threaded with Jason’s again, and he almost thinks you’ve fallen asleep until the door dings, and you’re up and out of the booth and in record time.

The next hour is spent easily. You’d return and sit for a little while and then leave to attend customers before coming back again. At the end of the work hours, you slide next to him, now apronless. You settle against his shoulder again, reading the book with him. At the end of the chapter, he closes the book and looks at you.

“Ready?”

 “As I’ll ever be,” you answer, sliding out of the booth and working to zip up your jacket. It's a new one, Jason thinks, having never seen it on you before.

“New Jacket?” Your hands stutter your movement at the question.

“I lost my other one, had to drag this one out of storage.” You mumble. Jason thinks for a moment, trying to figure out where you would have lost your jacket. He had seen you wearing it about a week ago before he remembers. When Red Hood pulled you out of the warehouse, he had given you his leather jacket because you didn’t have one. If you had been walking home, you would have been wearing one, which means it's either still in that warehouse or in a police evidence locker. Jason felt guilty for a moment, like he should have gotten you a new one so you didn’t have to drag one out for storage. One that had clearly seen better days based on the melted hole on the sleeve near your wrist.

You don’t give him time to question or offer because you're already headed for the door. He’s quick to rush ahead of you to open the door. You give him a smile with a scrunched nose like you might tease, but you keep your mouth shut. Once out the door and walking down the street, your gloved hand slips into his pocket where his hand was. Fingers curl together in the warmth of the pocket, and Jason has never been happier.

If he was completely honest, the almost two days away from you were ridiculously hard. You were like a drug to him, and his withdrawal made him antsy, waiting to see you again. Enough so that Damian had pointed it out while they were taking down an arms deal. Damian, who is so much like his father when it comes down to the mission. Jason had denied anything, but Damian had just given him a deadpan look that reminded Jason of when Damian was a baby in the league. He pulled himself together for the rest of the patrol.

Walking with you is much like walking with you on the phone, idle silence, and pointing at things of interest. The walk was slow, even though you looked tired and no doubt ready to be home. Once you reached your apartment building, Jason realized why.

“Thank you for walking me home, Jason.” Your touch slips from his, and you sway on your feet, unsure. You were really tired, exhausted even. It irked you that you only worked four hours and felt like you did a double shift. It probably didn’t help that you had practically bawled your eyes out when Darla brought in her granddaughter, a reminder of where life had started, how far you’ve come, and how far you have yet to go. She had shaken her head at you and let you hold the little girl longer than necessary.

Being so tired, you just wanted to sleep, but you didn’t want Jason to leave. During the time the girls were with you, beyond curiosity, you hadn’t really thought about him, but the moment they were gone was a whole other story. Without distraction, you had become conscious of a Jason-shaped gap in your chest.

You knew you liked Jason, that wasn’t news to you, but this was different. It was a tender, nearly guilty feeling. You felt like, perhaps, he was just indulging you and your affections in the last week because you had been through something traumatic. It's why you were not inviting him up to your apartment (and subsequently into your bed). You wanted to, desperately, having already come to terms with the fact that you sleep better next to him. But you can’t do it, not if he’s just gentle and sweet on you because that’s what you need right now.

He stares at you, and you shift on your feet. You feel like your old way of things are filtering back in. He turns without a word to his bike, same spot as always, and you think he’s going to leave without saying anything until he turns back to you. He holds a rectangular box, only a little bigger than your hand. He holds it out to you expectantly, a slight pink on his cheeks. He speaks as you take it and open it.

“I’m always more than willing to walk you to and from work, but if you're insistent about guilt-tripping yourself out of asking me, at least you’ll be able to protect yourself.” You glance up to glare at him for the guilt trip comment, but it falters when you see his knowing look. Inside the box is an unassuming smaller black box with grip grooves on the side. It kind of reminds you of an old Nokia phone. You pick it up and turn it over in your hand, confused.

“It’s a taser,” Jason says, your whole hand hold changes to two fingers holding it away from you. Jason laughs.

“It’s not a gun, sweetheart,” he takes it from you and edges into your space to show you how to use it. A button on the side to start the electricity startling you and he explains where to aim if someone grabs you and then he’s handing it back to you.

“And it’ll fit in your bag.” He adds like he’s trying to sell it to you. You glance at the said bag, then at the taser, then at him. He seems a little flustered, and it makes you grin; the tender, less guilty version of your feelings works its way across your body.

“Thank you, Jay,” his flush deepens slightly in a way that makes you want to tease him just to see how dark the red would get (or perhaps to see how low it would go), but you reel yourself in. You do stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek that he seems pleased about.  He nods and pulls back to get his helmet.

“See you later?”

“yea”

He climbs onto his bike, and you take an appreciative glance, having forgotten how good he looked on his bike. He waves at you, and you return the gesture before he’s gone. You sigh as you climb the stairs into your building. You were in deep with this boy, and you had no idea what to do with it.

****

You did manage to take a nap, longer than you expected. Long enough to keep you awake in the middle of the night, which you had not planned. You’re sat at your island, sipping a warm lemon water trying to lull yourself to sleep when you hear the creak of the fire escape. Your whole body freezes. You know it’s Red Hood this time, the noise more obvious. You don’t know why you thought the cat yesterday was him. You hear a knock on the window.

You don’t move from your spot, instead taking another sip of your water, back still facing the window. You wait for him to leave. You had left his jacket out there the night before. There was nothing else he needed here.

He knocks, and you feel your upset and anger flare again. Why can't he just leave you alone? Can't he tell you don’t want to talk to him? You hear the squeak of your locked window opening, a cold breeze drifting in, and then the window closing. You finally turn to glare at him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The jacket you had left outside is already draped on the back of a chair at the dining table. His helmet is off but still in his hands. You wish he had kept the helmet. His normal, hard-set features are that of a kicked puppy. Thank god his eyes were covered because if they weren’t, you would probably have folded at the sight of them. He suddenly seems hesitant, frozen mid-motion, to set his helmet down.

“What?” his voice is quieter than you think you have ever heard. Your chest aches. You missed him in the past four days, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. You were angry and rightfully so; he got you kidnapped.

“I said, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I left your jacket outside and locked the window so you wouldn’t come in.” You regret the way you're speaking to him. This isn’t like you, but your outrage oversteps your regret.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he says, slowly setting his helmet on the dining table. You glare at the harsh red metal.

“I’m fine. Get out.” You say flatly. This was hurting you more than you’d like to admit. Red Hood was a friend, a good friend, but his presence led to the disaster that was that night in the warehouse. You got kidnapped because of him, and he didn’t even save you; you saved yourself, and you weren’t proud of it.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You killed someone. That’s not something you just get over.” He says. It wasn’t lost on Jason the fact that you hadn’t told anyone what happened with Ted Jackson. He had talked to Cass and Steph about it and had a long conversation with Bruce in Cave about it that Barbara had inserted herself into regarding what she knew from her father, unofficially, of course.

He takes a step forward, and you take a stunned half-step back. You press yourself against the island, despite him being nowhere near you. Your hands curl around the counter edge, and Jason can see your nails digging underneath. This had been what he’d been worried about. Every time he had badged you about how you were doing as Jason was him, trying to goad you into talking about this. He had worried that you had locked it away in your mind as something to deal with later, but he had already seen spurts of it leak into the way you reacted to things. Despite being hopeful that you would talk to Red Hood about it because he already knew, Jason is sorely disappointed when you just repeat your words.

“Get. Out.” Your words are hard, but your voice shakes as you speak them: “I want you to leave and never come back.” Your eyes are watery, but the rest of your features are set harshly. He’s surprised by it. He didn’t think you could look so…cold.

“Sweetheart,” he offers the name softly, trying to coax you into talking, but you cut him off, voice louder than before.

“You don’t get to call me that.” You point an accusatory finger at him, “You don’t get it. I want you out of my apartment, and I want you out of my life.” There’s a light streak of tears slowly moving down your cheek. Jason doesn’t like the way this conversation feels; his heart hurts in the way you speak to him, especially after knowing the blissful touch of your affection. He has to remind himself that you're talking to Red Hood, not to Jason.

“Listen-” He tries again, but now you’re wound up.

“No, you listen! A man is dead, and it’s all your fault his blood is on my hands.” You present your palms like the blood was still there. “I don’t want you here.” Your words are harsh as you yell, despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. Jason feels suddenly inept that he can't comfort you, can’t press into your space, and wipe away your tears. All he can do is stand there and watch you.

You were right, He thought to himself. If he had been quicker, gotten to you faster, saved you like the alleged hero he was, you wouldn’t have to be dealing with this. Regardless of his years of training, he hadn’t saved you. Sure, you were alive, but you had taken a life. Something you never should have had to do. And while he was proud of you at the time (part of him was still proud of you for it, but that was his secret), he’s upset with himself for even letting it happen.

“Okay,” he resigns as he digs a hand into his pocket, “but before I leave, I have something for you.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Your voice is weak and choked, and he hates it. He pulls out the locket necklace he had Barbara make for you, and he presents it, holding it by the chain.

“Jewelry won't fix any of this.” You sniffle. He sighs at your comment. He wants to step closer to you, to hand it directly to you, but he won't. He pops open the locket to show you the button inside.

“It's an emergency alert,” he meets your reddened eyes, “you were taken, and I couldn’t find you fast enough. If something happens, press this button and someone,” he doesn’t offer himself, “will come find you and help you, one of the bats. We’ll all get an alert that you're in trouble.”

He places it on the table and picks up his helmet, sliding it on, pulling on his jacket. You haven’t said anything else, only staring at the gold locket.

“Wear it, please. If not for my peace of mind, then for yours. I’m sorry… for everything.” You still don’t say anything. He takes that as his cue to leave. Out the window and down the street, he doesn’t even wait on the roof to watch you lock the window.

He was genuinely hurt, if not a little surprised by how the evening went. He had planned to talk to you about what happened, to help you deal with it all, to give you someone to talk to. He hadn’t expected you to blow up at him like that, hadn’t realized how good you were at hiding your inner turmoil from the people around you. He understands, he thinks, why you are upset.

However, it just made his plans that much harder. He wanted to tell you about being Red Hood. Not yet, but eventually. But if you hate Red Hood, carrying a disdain for him, what would happen if he did tell you the truth? He had told himself before that if you hated him for Red Hood or his feelings, then that would be fine, but now, seeing the blank glare you had given him the entire time. He doesn’t think he could do it. It might actually kill him if you looked at Red Hood and Jason like that. Maybe it just won’t ever come out. Maybe he could hide it forever, right? That will work out just fine, he decides

****

The moment you see his figure disappear from the fire escape, you break down sobbing. You collapse on the floor and curl in on yourself. You hate this, you hate this. This ugly, complicated feeling, you hate it so much. Why? Why did you have to feel like this? You thought everything was fine, that you were over it, that you were dealing. It’s okay if you’re not. Both Jason and Red Hood had said something along those lines. Your stupid Jar rattles, and you wish it was real so you could chuck it at a wall.

As much as you hated the way you were feeling, you hated yourself more for how you spoke to him, hated the way you just let the words slip out. Words spoken in anger were the ones most regretted. You didn’t want him to leave your life forever. You wanted him to come back, to be there for you. Even if it was just to judge your cooking skills and tease you about your pickiness.

He was your friend, and you didn’t have a lot of those. Of course, you chased him off, letting your fear of loss hide under a shield of anger. You can't let a good thing last. Better to make it bad before it’s gone.

You sat on the floor, having your own personal pity party for longer than you're proud of. By the time you stood up, your hips ached from sitting on the hardwood floor. You throw a longing glance at the locket but don’t pick it up or go near it. You drag yourself into your bed and curl into a ball. You feel cold, sad, and ashamed. Ashamed for yelling and letting your emotions get out of hand. You cry yourself to sleep, wishing you could take everything back.

Additional Notes: I am so sorry about that ending. That was so rough. Anyways, next week is a filler chapter with Jason. Yay for complicated feelings. Thank you for reading. Let me know what you guys thought! <3 <3

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant

[eeerrrrewsd]

A Love That Can’t Be Named

Part 2

Bruce didn’t move for a long time after you left.

The space you had occupied still carried the warmth of your presence, but it was fading, just like everything else good in his life. Just like you.

And yet, he had let you go.

Of course, he had.

Because what did you expect?

Bruce Wayne did not get to have good things.

Bruce Wayne did not get to keep the people who mattered.

And you? You mattered too much.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple as if the pressure might somehow lessen the ache in his chest. It didn’t. He knew it wouldn’t.

Alfred’s voice drifted in from the doorway, quiet, unimposing. “That went well, I presume.”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Alfred sighed, stepping forward, his usual patience laced with something almost reproachful. “You know, sir, for someone as intelligent as you, you have a truly remarkable ability to be an idiot.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “Alfred—”

“No,” Alfred cut in, firm. “No excuses. No brooding deflections. You hurt her, and for what?”

Bruce’s fingers curled into his palm. He knew why.

Because she made him weak.

Because she saw him, and Bruce wasn’t sure which part was more terrifying—the fact that she could, or the fact that she still wanted him anyway.

Or maybe it was the fact that he wanted her, too.

That he had always wanted her.

But he couldn’t have her.

Didn’t she understand that?

Didn’t she see that every time she looked at him with those damn knowing eyes, every time she stayed, despite every cold push and every hard-edged word meant to drive her away?

He wanted her to be safe.

And loving Bruce Wayne? That was anything but safe.

Alfred shook his head, something almost pitying in his expression. “One day, she’s not going to come back.”

Bruce exhaled sharply. He already knew that.

The problem was, he wasn’t sure what was worse: the thought of losing her, or the thought that he might already have.

You weren’t sure how long you wandered the city after storming out of Wayne Manor, but by the time you finally made it back to your place, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin.

The fight—if you could even call it that—kept replaying in your head.

Bruce’s blank expression. His steady, even tone. The way he had looked at you like you were nothing.

But you weren’t stupid.

You had seen the way his hands twitched. Had heard the slight hitch in his breath. Had felt the sharp, almost desperate energy between you both—an energy that had been there for months, thrumming beneath the surface, always just on the edge of too much.

Bruce wanted you.

He cared.

You knew he did.

But he would rather burn alive than admit it.

And that? That made your heart ache in ways you weren’t sure you could fix.

You sank onto your couch, head falling back against the cushions, eyes closing against the familiar sting of frustrated tears.

Maybe this was your fault.

Maybe you should’ve never let yourself believe that Bruce Wayne would ever let himself love you.

Maybe you should’ve never loved him in the first place.

A sharp knock at your door made you jolt upright.

Your stomach twisted.

For a second, a ridiculous second, you let yourself hope.

But when you swung the door open, it wasn’t Bruce standing there.

It was Selina Kyle.

She raised an eyebrow at your expression. “Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

You swallowed hard, stepping aside. “Just my pride, probably.”

Selina hummed, walking inside with the casual confidence of someone who knew she belonged anywhere she went. She took one look at you and sighed.

“Let me guess. Tall, dark, and brooding said something stupid?”

You let out a breathy laugh, bitter and exhausted. “He’s a real poet, that one.”

Selina perched on the arm of your couch, studying you with those sharp, feline eyes. Then, she smirked.

“You know, it drives him insane that he loves you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the casual ease with which she said it. “Excuse me?”

She leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “Oh, come on. You think I haven’t noticed the way he watches you? The way he never lets his guard down, except when you’re around?”

Your breath hitched.

No.

You knew it.

But hearing someone else say it made it feel… real.

Selina tilted her head, smirking. “So? What are you gonna do about it?”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into your palms.

The real question was, what was Bruce going to do?

And how much longer were you willing to wait for him to figure it out?

Bruce was standing on the rooftop across from your apartment, watching as Selina leaned in to whisper something to you.

He couldn’t hear what she said.

Didn’t need to.

Because he saw the way your expression changed.

Saw the way you stiffened, lips parting slightly as if the words had unraveled you.

Bruce’s throat tightened.

He had made a mistake.

He had known it the second you walked away.

And now?

Now, he was running out of time to fix it.

Part1

[veephoenix]

debts to pay - n.f. one shot

nick folio x fem. reader one shot ✨ words: 1.5k summary: reader goes to a motorcycle garage (the same one where Nick works) to settle her brother’s debt, only to find herself short on cash. trigger warnings: swearing, threats, open ending

DEBTS TO PAY 💵

The garage reeked of oil and rubber, and there was rock music blaring from a speaker wedged in some corner. Rows of motorcycles lined the space, and two cars were parked in the driveway, waiting for service. 

She felt out of place the moment she stepped inside. She was dressed in tight black jeans and heeled boots, a white tank top hugging her upper curves. The sun kissed her bare shoulders and arms. 

She headed straight for the office at the back of the garage. Through the glass windows separating the workshop from the administrative space, she spotted Russell hunched over a cluttered desk, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The owner of the place didn’t seem to mind the thick fumes mixing with the smoke he exhaled as his eyes dragged over papers, his usual scowl deepening. She dreaded talking to him, so much that she completely missed the young man on the other side of the garage, seated on a low stool, working on a Harley-Davidson. 

Nick noticed her the moment she appeared down the block, with her hair down and that golden skin that reminded him—who was covered in greasy—of how different they both were. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she made her way in, noticing how she put on a confident armor even though she was shaking nervous inside. 

She knocked twice before stepping into the office.

“Russell,” she greeted.

He looked up. “Oh, finally,” he said without amusement. “You got the money?”

“Yeah,” she replied. She didn’t hesitate when she pulled a folded envelope from her crisscrossed purse and laid it on the desk. Russell took it, peeled it open, counted the money, and his expression darkened. 

“This ain’t it.” 

“What do you mean? My brother said the money was all there. He told me it would cover the debt,” she explained, gesturing toward the cash still in his hands. 

“Your brother is a liar, sugar,” he scoffed. “And I don’t do charity. He owes me, and instead of facing me himself, he sends you to deal with his bullshit? Good. That means now you owe me.”

“What?”

“A quarter of the money is missing,” Russell clarified. 

Her pulse spiked. Her brother had assured her the full amount was there. She had insisted—she didn’t want to get caught up in his mess—and yet, here she was. Again. She was going to smack his face when she saw him again. 

“So? How are you planning on making up for it, sugar?”

She stiffened. She didn’t like the way he called her ‘sugar’. There was a condescension laced in his tone, implications she didn’t want to think of. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to let her leave the place without an answer—a satisfying one. 

“I—…” What? What could she offer this man? She could barely keep herself afloat, and now she was indebted to a man like Russell because of her brother’s reckless decisions? 

Russell leaned back on his chair, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes roamed over her, assessing in a way that made her feel terribly uncomfortable. 

She was about to tell him to fuck off and run out of there, consequences be damned, when a voice cut in from her back. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

She turned around to see Nick standing by the door. He was wearing a faded band t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His usual cap was pulled low over his dark hair, though a few strands had escaped at the back. He had grease stains all over his arms, on his neck and on his face. 

He looked… ridiculously hot. 

Russell turned his eyes to Folio, irritation flaring. “And why the hell would you do that?”

Nick shrugged, his brown eyes flicking toward her but without letting her see more than a casual look. “Because I want to.”

She blinked, stunned.

She’d talked to Nick before. He was her brother’s friend. They’d met each other at parties and exchanged a few words and flirtations and what not. She felt attracted to him, and she had an inkling that he might feel the same… However, neither of them had ever crossed the line because they knew they couldn’t. You don’t get involved with your older brother’s friends. Everybody knows that. 

For that same reason, she hadn’t expected Nick to step in for her—well, for her brother, after all. Maybe that’s what it was? Maybe Nick was doing it for her brother and not for her.

Russell studied Nick the same way she did, processing his answer. Then he exhaled through his nose. Without giving her a chance to have a say, he waved a dismissive hand and said, “Fine. I want the money on this table before 9pm. Now get back to work, Folio. I don’t have all day.” 

“Yep.”

Without sparing him—or her—another glance, Nick turned and walked back to his spot in the garage, returning to his unfinished work on the Harley.  

She stood there, eyes following him. 

“You considering another form of payment?” 

She startled at Russell’s voice. Immediately she snapped her gaze back to him. “No.”

“Then get out. I don’t need you or your brother giving me any more trouble.” He pointed a thick finger at her. “But if Nick doesn’t pay up tonight, I’ll be coming after you. You can thank your brother for that.”

“Sure,” she replied, trying hard to keep her sarcastic tone from spilling.  

She left the office, stealing one more glance at Russell’s desk, where the envelope her brother had given here still lay, bills scattered on top. When Russell caught her eyes, he gathered the money in his big, old hands and put it away. 

She crossed the garage with a heavy sigh, pushing some hair away from her face. She was about to leave when her eyes seemed to gravitate toward Nick. He was crouched low behind a motorbike, tightening something on the bike’s engine.  

She ruminated whether approach him or leave, get this over with. However, her voice was faster than her mind. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Nick’s hand stilled. She couldn’t see his face until he tilted his head back and stretched his neck to look at her. “What?”

He shouldn’t look that good, covered in grease and sweat, in old clothes and with his hair pushed back by a worn cap. 

But he did, and she was staring regardless of her intentions. 

“I said you didn’t have to do that.”

After a two-second beat, he smirked. “Yeah, I did. Your brother can be an asshole,” he stated, turning back to his work. “You shouldn’t have to clean up his messes.”

“Well,” she was taken aback by the unexpected empathy. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

She frowned, a hand going to the strap of her bag. 

“I owe Russell now,” Nick clarified. Then stretched his neck to lay his intent eyes on her again. “And you owe me.”

Shit. Her stomach tightened. She should’ve seen this coming.

She folded her arms. “How much?”

Nick let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head and standing up. “Not money.”

Her pulse skipped. “Then what?”

Nick tilted his head, eyes dragging over her face like he was considering his options.

“Relax, doll” he said, his voice lower now. “I’m not gonna ask for anything crazy. You’ve got enough with your brother’s shit. But since I’m saving your ass, we need to figure out a way for you to pay me back.”

“You’re just like him, aren’t you?” she retorted, narrowing her eyes and pointing with her head toward Russell’s office.

“No, I’m not. Trust me.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Not sure. But I like the idea of you owing me.” His voice was lazy, teasing. 

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You really think I’m just going to let you toy with me?”

“I think you like the idea more than you’re willing to admit.”

Damn him. He was too good at this—at reading her, at knowing exactly how to push just enough without making her run. They’d played this game before, but never to this extent.

Fine. If he wanted to play, she could play too.

Huffing and smirking, she took deliberate steps toward him. She was done letting men rule her life.

She moved close enough that their bodies nearly touched. She really didn’t want to get any grease on her clean, nice clothes, but… She reached up until her fingers touched the collar of his shirt. Nick’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

“What if you end up owing me by the time we’re done, Folio? What would my brother say then, huh?”

His amusement suddenly changed into something else. Yeah, her brother was a problem, but at this point, he owed both of them. So maybe it was time to cross that line they’d always stayed behind. 

“Well, that sounded like a challenge,” Nick mused, rising his eyebrows. “And I love a good challenge,” he continued, glancing at the bikes waiting for him. 

“Maybe it was.”

Nick whistled, shaking his head. “I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” She dropped her hand and took a step back. 

For a moment, they just stood there, the tension building. 

“Alright,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “Let’s start settling your debt with a date. Tomorrow evening. 8pm. I’ll pick you up on my bike.”

[ivystoryweaver]

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 4: It Came From Outer Space previous

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: Quality time and a day at the fall festival with Poe, who doesn't really get the point of a ferris wheel. Oh and your ex is there.

Content/Notes: fluff, tw food, language

Word Count: 3.2k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"That everything?" Poe asked, securing the final basket in the back of your truck. Heaps of fresh organic produce, homemade jellies, herbs and eggs from your chickens were loaded and ready for your little farm's booth at the fair.

The warmish weather had finally eased into a crisp, cool morning, invigorating your fall spirit and giving you a boost of energy needed to peddle your wares.

Poe, dressed in his boots, jeans and a flannel button up of your dads - a dark green and navy plaid over a white t-shirt - gazed at you expectantly, hands on his hips.

"I think so," you answered, granting him a bright smile. "Thank you so much for doing this. It would have been a lot with Chester away in New Jersey. I've never done it by myself." Your thoughts briefly drifted to your father. This was only your second year without him at the festival.

"Glad I can help," he grinned, pushing a hand through his curls.

Since you'd bought him hair products and toiletries, he'd attempted new styles with gel and hairspray, usually preferring his hair off his face. Today it seemed he didn't bother, remarking how his hair had grown longer than ever, and beyond his control.

You offered to cut it for him soon, after the festival was behind you.

Right then, your cat Cheddar darted out of the barn, with Marigold and Kit Kat hot on his trail. Your three barn cats had added themselves to the long list of animals who instantly loved Poe. Cheddar had almost convinced the both of you that he was truly a house cat who needed to sleep in Poe's room at night, rather than out in the barn with his siblings. Almost.

Curling around Poe's legs adoringly, Cheddar meowed, waiting for attention, which Poe was more than willing to give.

"Heyyyy, little buddy, came to say goodbye? Don't worry, I'll be back."

Kneeling down, he granted some attention to Marigold, while Kit Kat hissed in jealous protest.

"All right, you guys, go back to catching things. We have to go." You playfully rubbed each of their heads before gently shooing them away.

It was then that you noticed Poe eyeing you with about as much fondness as Cheddar had displayed. It caught you off guard for a moment, until he held up the truck's key and dangled it in front of you.

"Can I drive?"

"Give me those," you laughed, yanking them out of his hand and bumping shoulders with him as you headed for the driver's side.

"Come onnn, please," he whined, following you closely.

You reached for the truck's door, but he pushed his arm up against it to stop you, trapping you there against the side of the truck, with his arm caging you in. Noticing how close your bodies were, he lowered his arm slowly, licking his lips as your eyes locked with his.

"Sorry." He backed away to give you some space, noticing how your breath stuttered and your eyelashes fluttered. "I'm the best pilot in our fleet, I swear. I can definitely handle a truck."

"Wow," you whistled, pulling open the truck door finally, but Poe noticed you still had a playful glint in your eye. "You actually insulted my truck while bragging. Well done. Passenger's seat for you."

He groaned, but complied, leaving it alone while you cranked the truck and backed it away from the house. Stopping at the end of your long driveway, you peered over at him.

"I know you can drive my truck. It took you like half a day to get what usually takes us regular people a few months to learn. It's just that you don't have a license and we cannot have any questions asked about who you are and where you're from. You understand, right?"

Poe swallowed, nodding, noting how serious you were. "Sorry. I just thought it would be fun. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," you smiled warmly. "I just...I get nervous thinking about if someone found out. I mean, Poe, to think of what could happen to you..."

"Is it really that dangerous here? In the United States?" He asked, as you eased onto the main road and started driving.

"It could be. It really could. We are in a kind of war right now. A cold war. No one's firing, but it's tense. And if they find out you're from space, they'll never let you go. We have to keep it a secret no matter what. Let's go over our cover story again."

So you spent the drive into town reviewing the story you'd concocted. Poe had come to work on your farm temporarily, as a replacement for Chester, who was with his ill mom in New Jersey. Simple enough. For now, the story would be that Chester gave a friend of a friend-type recommendation. You would loop Chester in on the plan ASAP, when he wasn't preoccupied with helping his mom.

Poe would be called Joe, which sounded a little more run-of-the-mill Earthy, and would be from Florida. The next step was to somehow get him some convincing documents without drawing attention from the wrong people.

This story should be easy enough to maintain. If someone were to question you about Poe's past, you could simply claim to not know, since you truly met him so recently.

Something heavy settled in your stomach as you drove toward the first public outing with this man who fell to earth.

"Look, I'm sorry about the driving thing," he offered, once you'd double checked your story together. "I know we have to be careful. I promise I won't get you in any trouble."

Glancing over at him, you realized this must all be frightening to him, or at least alarming. "It's okay. You must be bored out of your mind on the farm." Pulling into a parking space in the grassy field outside the fair's entrance, you turned to face him. "You don't have to stay in the booth with me all day. You should ride some rides. They're fast. Probably not as fast as an X-wing, but...could be fun."

"Okay. Only if you ride with me."

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To absolutely no one's surprise, Poe was a perfect addition to your booth. Chester was a great help when he was around, but he was more of a behind the scenes worker.

Poe was a people person, charming customers, introducing himself as Joe, as instructed, and making them feel at ease. With the way he was able to add a dozen farm fresh eggs or a jar of your jelly to each order, you were certain he could probably persuade anyone to do anything.

"You know, maybe I should go ride rides, since you've almost sold all the eggs before lunch," you teased during the briefest lull in customers.

Dark eyes went wide until he realized you were messing with him. "Oh...I thought I was doing it wrong for a second."

"No, please. The sooner we sell out, the sooner we can pack up and the less we have to carry home. Be my guest," you grinned, folding your arms over your chest. "Exactly how many dangerous situations have you charmed your way out of?"

Poe laughed, pushing his fingers through his curls again. "Way too many, Trix. You have no idea."

"Oh shit," you whispered, ducking behind the corner of your booth, frantically waving Poe over to join you.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, conspiratorially huddling with you. "Is it someone from the government?"

Shit, you probably scared him. "No. Sorry, no, it's just my ex."

He gazed into your eyes. "Your ex...boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"Ex asshole," you failed to clarify, groaning as you realized it was too late. You'd been spotted.

"Heyyyy, it's my favorite organic farmer," your ex boomed, embarrassingly loudly, as he was often prone to do. At one time, you had adored his exuberance and bold personality.

"Hey there," Poe interjected, "what can I help you find today? We have homemade jelly."

Your ex made a sour face at you and hitched his thumb at your new, shorter friend. "Who's this guy?"

"Joe," Poe responded, thrusting his hand between you and your ex for a handshake. "Just started at the farm a few weeks ago, while Chester's away. So what can we get you?"

Ignoring Poe, your ex stared at you, waiting for your attention. Fighting a smile, you returned his rudeness and instead turned to Poe. "I think you've got this covered, so I'm gonna unbox a few more things."

"Take your time. We're good here." Poe sent you off with a wink.

Your heart raced as you darted around the side of your tent, so thankful for the embarrassing situation that didn't just happen. It wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself, or handle your ex. Hell, you were the one who dumped him. You simply weren't in the mood for his loud mouth and embarrassing antics, especially if he tried to give Poe the third degree for simply existing in the same space as you.

Wondering, for a second, if you felt managed by Poe, or dismissed, you sighed in relief, realizing that his reaction was spot on, and just what you needed. He minimized someone who loved to make everything about himself. He kept the focus on your booth and your products, allowing you to get to tasks that needed your attention.

To be seen and understood so effortlessly felt really good.

Another hour passed before the two of you took a break for lunch, closing your booth for about twenty minutes to sit near the back and munch on some ridiculously fried fair food you insisted Poe try.

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By mid afternoon, you'd sold out of everything except a few greens, but Poe was determined, continuing to sell while you started packing up.

As the sun set, your booth was empty and cleared, leaving the two of you free to enjoy the festivities.

"Thank you so much for today," you sweetly said, bumping shoulders as you walked along rows of various carnival style games. "This is the most successful year I've ever had."

"Happy to help," He smiled over at you, "with getting rid of produce...or ex-boyfriends."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry about that," you chuckled. "I appreciate it though. I was not in the mood to talk to him, believe me."

Poe focused his eyes ahead, enjoying the music drifting through the air, the smell of what you called popcorn and brightly colored balloons. "I thought it would be good practice for getting rid of unwanted attention," he shrugged. Waiting a bit, he added, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

You let out a long sigh, prompting Poe to say, "sorry."

"No, it's okay," you assured him. "We had some good times. He helped out, you know...when my father got sick. But I found out he was going to propose. And then I found out why he wanted to propose."

Poe groaned, "Don't say he wanted your farm."

"Bingo," you remarked, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. "I mean, really, is this 1881 or 1981? He was after my land?"

"I guess there are worse reasons to marry. But I see your point," Poe conceded. "Was he good to you?" He flinched. "Is that okay to ask?"

"He was until he wasn't," you confessed. "Kind of ruined the whole, benevolent 'help my father' thing when I caught him with another woman."

Poe whistled. "Okay, now I have to kick his ass."

That made you laugh. "He's not worth it. Come on, let's ride the ferris wheel."

Less that ten minutes later, you and Poe sat side-by-side in the bucket seat...of the world's slowest ride, apparently.

"What does this thing do?" he questioned. "It's really slow. And goes in a circle. Is that fun in Iowa?"

You burst out laughing, swatting him on the arm. "It's peaceful and kind of magical because it goes up high and you can see the town." You explained this as your gondola climbed to the ferris wheel's highest point.

Poe nodded, taking a moment to enjoy the highest vantage point he'd seen in weeks, since his ship crashed here. Normally, he was used to being up in the air on a daily basis, so this was nothing too special. Until he glanced over and noticed your eyes shining as you gazed out across the festival and surrounding, rural fields.

Peering over the edge, you remarked how high up you were, bouncing with excitement before looking back at Poe, eyes bright and filled with wonder.

"You're right about the view," he said softly, eyes never leaving your face as the ferris wheel slowly brought you back down to earth.

Next you dragged him to a mini roller coaster, promising it would go at least somewhat faster. Hands gripping the safety rails, you squealed in delight as Poe grinned, enjoying the ride almost as much as he loved riding full speed on your horse Annabelle a week ago.

"I'll take you flying someday. Somehow," he promised. You appreciated the gesture, but your heart burned at the faraway look in his eyes. It sobered you to remember, again, that he needed to find a way to get out of here eventually.

"I'll probably embarrass myself and scream or get sick, but I would love to see you in action."

As soon as the words left your mouth, your face heated up. And he noticed.

Leaning closer his eyes dropped to your lips before he smiled knowingly, nodding behind you. "You want to see me in action, let's go."

Brushing past you, he left you a bit speechless until you realized he intended to play a shooting game. With perfect precision, he used rubber darts and a plastic gun to take aim at, and perfectly eliminate yellow duckies in a row, earning some oohs and ahhs from interested onlookers, and the game's attendant.

"Best shootin' I've seen all day, son. Pick a prize from the top row there." The older gentleman pointed up to the row of ridiculously oversized stuffed animals.

Poe grinned at you. "Which one?"

"You won it," you giggled. "You pick."

He chose a gigantic plush lizard.

"For you." He presented it with a dramatic flare.

"Wowww, this is...this is really something. Thank you." You laughed in spite of the weird but oddly cute offering.

"Well you have lots of animals at home, so I thought you might like something different," he explained as you headed for the cotton candy tent. "Besides, all the animals here are really...hairy." He squeezed the giant lizard. "This guy looks more like my galaxy."

"I love it then," you decided. "What should we call him?"

"Toe Dameron," he teased, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "That way, you'll think of me when you hug him."

For the first time in a while, you enjoyed a good belly laugh. "I don't need a giant lizard named Toe to think about you, but okay."

Poe carried Toe Dameron around while you bought some cotton candy, which intrigued him immensely. He gobbled it up quickly, which let both of you know he was actually hungry. So next up was the pizza stand, of which Poe was definitely a fan, polishing off three slices while you sat at a small table with Toe Dameron on the ground beside you.

"A picture for the lovely couple?" A photographer asked, appearing beside your table, with his camera at the ready.

"Uhh, not a couple, and no, actually, it's okay." You waved him off. Digging into your pocket, you gave him a small tip. "Thanks anyway."

"What was that?" Poe asked through a mouthful of pizza.

"Nothing, he just wanted to take our picture - like the ones in my hall, you know? A photograph?"

Poe nodded, polishing off his meal.

"But, even though I would love to have a picture with you, I just think it could be dangerous. Better to keep a low profile."

"Right, good thinking." Glancing around, the idea that he was an unwelcome guest on planet Earth seemed to sober him. "You're sure it's safe to be here?"

"Yes, it's fine," you assured him.

Hoping to cheer him up, you took him to a very spinny, very fast ride that he loved. But as soon as it ended, you both realized what a terrible idea it was to ride the spinning ride after eating a ton of pizza.

"Ready to go?"

Poe was gazing past you again, as he'd been doing all day, his interest piqued by every different or similar thing to his home galaxy.

This time, his ears perked up at the sound of live music and his eyes gazed at couples dancing on a makeshift dance floor.

"Come on," he urged, taking you by the hand. "Dance with me."

"Oh...okay," you smiled at his exuberance. Poe was so full of life, so interested in every little thing.

Swallowing down any trepidation you felt about making a fool of yourself on the dance floor, you eased into an embrace with him, swaying to a medium tempo song, getting used to the feel of one another.

The song cadenced and the beat kicked off a lively tune, which delighted Poe. He took the lead, guiding you through steps that were probably not of this world, but seemed to make sense. He certainly had a good sense of rhythm and was no stranger to dancing.

You slightly stumbled once, but he steadied you with his palm spread across your back. "Just follow me, I've got you." He smiled brilliantly, giving you a twirl and guiding you around to his opposite side, before somehow doing the same thing in reverse. You weren't sure how he managed it, but it was fun and you found yourself laughing and relaxing all the way through the end of the song.

The music slowed into a couples' dance, so you stepped back to give Poe an out, but he held out his hand. "One more?"

You smiled sweetly at him in spite of yourself, taking his hand as he pulled you close, somehow still keeping time even with the slow tempo.

"Is this okay?" He breathed against your cheek, arm cinching you closer even as he asked permission.

"Yeah...it's okay. You're a good dancer," you breathlessly whispered on his ear. "Which isn't surprising. You're good at everything."

"Thank you," he granted you a sincere reply, which you appreciated. "We danced a lot growing up. Not exactly like this but...anyway."

Easing back, you gazed at him questioningly. "What is it?"

He gently smiled, eyes fixing on yours. "Nothing. I just...I haven't had a day like this in years. A day off, to have fun and dance and eat and laugh." He sighed, peering up at the night sky. "I think this is one of the best days I've ever had."

"Really?" You gasped, surprised and touched, honestly.

"Yeah," he nodded, eyes finding yours again. "Really. I think maybe Iowa is a special place."

That made you laugh.

"Or maybe it's because you're here." His arms wrapped all the way around you now, palm pressing along the curve of your back.

You reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes. "Bet you say that on every planet you land on."

"Maybe, maybe not. But there's definitely only one Trix."

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thanks to @silvernight-m for the names-that-rhyme-with-Poe exchange and @reallyrallyauthor for pointing out that many animals in Star Wars world are reptilian

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[sakuraodango]

a prisoner of love - chapter 2

pairing: reader (heroine) x caleb tags: smut, noncon/dubnon, manipulation, gaslighting, toxicity, imprisonment, drug use, underaged sex (which is consensual), dom/sub elements, and many more. warnings will be noted at the top of every chapter if featured. please read with caution. mdni. summary: a what if story in "Homecoming Wings" where you reunite with Caleb, but with smut and darker themes

warnings for this chapter!: extremely dubcon, manipulation, toxicity, imprisonment, forceful sex, yandere caleb

also available at A03!

Caleb walked through the hall of the Fleet headquarters. Coworkers and peers paused to greet Caleb as he walked by.

"Did you hear what happened?" A whisper from a nurse spoke.

"No, did something happened with the colonel?"

"You know how.. uhm, sometimes the higher ups use the prisoners for their own sexual thrills."

"That's a nice way of putting it.."

"Well anyways, usually the colonel stays out of it, but for the first time he did it to someone! And I hear he's personally taking care of her himself!"

"Se-seriously?! We have a record of what happened right?!"

"We did, but when I tried to find it, it had already been deleted! It's such a shame because the colonel is so attractive…"

"Oh, I should've been there.. How I would kill to see the colonel in such a state."

~~~

The sun hit your eyes, waking you up. You felt your body sore, especially your wrists and legs… You were so tired.. Your bed felt different than usual, it was soft and comfortable. But..

You sat up from bed. You weren't home in Linkon, you were in Skyhaven. You weren't in the interrogation room anymore, you were in a room that was suited to your tastes. The bed reminded you of your old bed you had before at home. Even the pillows felt the same. The same blanket and the vanity was the same. It was a new vanity, but it was the same model as you had before.

You saw you wearing pjs in the mirror beside the closet, Caleb must've changed you. You blushed at that thought, he remembered your size and what color you liked?! He's such a pervert!

"…" A picture of you, Caleb and grandma stood on the shelf. You reached out to touch the picture and sighed deeply. You barely had pictures because of your house getting destroyed, how did Caleb keep one of these?

"..are you awake?"

You turned to the door, seeing Caleb approaching you slowly. He slightly opened the door and was also wearing pjs, it looked like a matching pair to yours.

"Caleb, I want answers." You were confused, at everything that's happening.

"Come eat some breakfast at least, I made some bacon and eggs. You want juice?"

You nodded. Caleb gave a small smiled at you cooperating with him. He didn't want to force you to do anything (pretty hypocritical Caleb…). This was Caleb's apartment, you thought as you walked out of the room you were in. It smelled like him, his personality shined with the dark colors and homey feel.

It reminded you of the house you once shared with Caleb and grandma.

"I know it's a heavy breakfast, but you need the energy. You slept the whole time after yesterday." Caleb sat a plate in front of you. He poured orange juice for you and sat it beside your plate.

"Thank you for the meal." You enjoyed the taste of Caleb's cooking. It was simple eggs and bacon, but Caleb made the eggs how you liked it. The sunny side up eggs that had two black sesame seeds as eyes, perfectly runny and cooked. The bacon was crispy and thick.

"I know you have a lot of questions, how about we start with this one first." Caleb sat across from you. "Hello pipsqueak, I'm Caleb. It's nice to meet you."

Although he was smiling, Caleb's smile felt empty. It was his usual trained smile so you wouldn't worry about him. When you were younger, you wouldn't had noticed, but as you grew older and began to learn how Caleb would hide everything from you with that smile. You wanted to see him happy, but not like this. You couldn't force yourself to smile at him like he was doing.

"..how are you alive? I saw the house blow up with my own eyes Caleb, I.. I don't understand."

"It's…complicated."

Caleb's eyes fell, as the corners of his lips. He sighed before pushing the glass of orange juice to you.

"Drink, your throat must be dry." How does he know?

You looked at the orange juice suspiciously. Is it drugged..?

"Don't worry, I didn't do anything this time. Everything is stored securely at the Fleet headquarters anyways. You're safe here, pipsqueak."

You picked up the glass and took a sip. It tasted normal. So you continued eating and drinking.

"You still haven't answered me Caleb. What… happened?"

Seeing you weren't backing down, Caleb finally decided to be honest with you.

"..I don't really remember. After the explosion, it was like a dream, to be honest. When I woke up, I assumed it had to be related to the Aether core." Caleb reached out to you, patting your head when he saw your shocked expression. "Your secret is safe with me, you know I will never betray you."

Betray. He did.

You pushed Caleb's hand away, ignoring the look of hurt he had on his face and slammed your hands down on the table.

"I don't want to hear excuses Caleb." For the first time in your life, you shouted angrily towards Caleb. "Where's grandma?!"

"…" The little light that Caleb had in his eyes fell, as he wiped the orange juice that fell on the table. "..I couldn't protect the both of you."

You wanted to believe she survived, if Caleb survived. But Caleb was telling the truth. It was a miracle he lived, but grandma… It was clear she did not. You fell back to your seat, tears falling from your eyes.

"Why… Why didn't you come find me?"

"It wasn't time yet."

"What do you mean?!"

"If I had found you that time, I would have been abandoned."

"What do you mean abandoned?" You didn't understand what Caleb was trying to say.

"It's…a long, long story, pipsqueak. I.. I-I can't really say."

"Caleb.."

Silence fell between the two of you. You looked down to your plate. At least some of your questions were answered. A lot had happened between the time you and Caleb were separated. While it was hard for you, it was also very hard for Caleb. The way Caleb was hesitating to tell you something, you decided to drop it. You'd come back to it later.

"..you need to eat too." You slid your plate closer to Caleb. "I lost my appetite."

You sat up to return to the room you came out of.

"Pipsqueak."

Caleb stood up and followed after you. He caught your arm before you could enter the room.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't want to look at Caleb. You forced Caleb to let go of your arm and closed the door.

You leaned against the door, before falling down. You held your legs close to your body, as you cried even more. The grief of losing your grandmother returned. Of course you were happy that Caleb was alive, but..

Yesterday, was the first time you met Caleb after a long while. You had sex with him, in front of many cameras to who knows who was watching you two. And you were unfaithful to Zayne.

Oh Zayne…

You wanted to be in his warm embrace so badly, to believe what happened in the past day was just a bad dream. You didn't want Caleb to be dead for real, but you never expected this to happen. You looked around the room for any of your belongings. Caleb took your hunter's gun, maybe it was still with the Fleet. You couldn't find it anywhere in the room.

Where was your phone? It was in your pockets before Caleb ripped your clothes. There wasn't a phone, but in the room, there was a tablet. You turned it on and sighed in relief when it worked. As much as you wanted to stay with Caleb, you needed to return home. There was something off about Caleb, although he did seem to be the same Caleb you knew, but he was… Different.

The Caleb you loved once before wasn't there.

You logged into your messaging accounts and saw Zayne's chat logs. Zayne: You mentioned you were in Skyhaven? Do you want to meet up for dinner? I happen to be also visiting Skyhaven the same time as you.

Zayne: Are you off work? Don't work too hard, buy yourself some tea and macaroons.

Zayne: Is there something wrong? Are you okay?

You smiled. Zayne noticed you were in trouble. But how should you explain your current situation. You couldn't just tell Zayne that Caleb is suddenly alive. Especially, the intimate moment you both just had. But there was one thing you wanted to tell Zayne.

(f/n): I miss you.

Zayne: Where are you?

It was a second later Zayne immediately replied.

That was a good question. You knew you were in an apartment, Caleb's apartment. But where? There should be a share your location button in the messaging app, but before you could send Zayne your location.

The door to your room opened without a knock.

A force pushed down on you, pushing your body to the ground. You fell, the tablet falling to the side as you look up to see Caleb towering over you. He kneeled down to ground the tablet, reading the texts between you and Zayne.

"Don't-!" You tried to move, but with Caleb's gravity evol being stronger than your own strength, you were trapped down.

"You did mention you and Zayne were together yesterday." Caleb kneeled to your level. "It seems your relationship is very intimate. I've always knew Zayne had a crush on you."

Then Caleb broke the tablet. Your eyes widened as the pieces of the tablet fell onto the ground.

"Caleb! W-what the fuck!!" You shouted in anger.

"I'll buy you a new one later."

"How could you!"

Caleb's hand cupped your chin.

"Pipsqueak, this is for your own good. Do you think Zayne is on your side?"

You cowered under Caleb's cold stare.

"Don't you think Zayne is just using you?!"

"Zayne would never trap me like this!"

You bit Caleb's hand, causing him to fall backwards. His evol disappeared and you were released. You made the bold move to run towards the door and out the room. You ran towards the front door, unlocking the locks to open the door, when Caleb let out a small laugh.

The ominous feeling of the prey being hunted by the predator, as you heard Caleb chuckle quite darkly as he followed behind you, slowly. You tried to open the door, but it wouldn't open. Out of frustration, you hit the door with your hand.

"Why won't you open!" You shouted.

"Don't hurt your hand like that pipsqueak." Caleb stood right behind you, his chest touching your back.

He held your small fist in his hand and pinned you to the wall. You felt uncomfortable. Why was Caleb doing this?

"W-why..?" You cried, angry. "Who are you? What did you do to Caleb?!"

"..pipsqueak, I was like this from the start."

Caleb pulled you towards him, inhaling your scent. He missed your warmth and feel against his body.

You gasped when Caleb rubbed his harden cock against you.

"N-no, s-stop-" You tried to release yourself from Caleb, but he didn't let you go.

Caleb grabbed both your hands with one hand, pinning it to the door as his other spread your legs. Your butt came into contact with his crotch, him grinding against you. You bit your lips, trying to conceal your moans. While your mind thought of Zayne, your heart and body yearned for Caleb.

Afterall, Caleb was the first to take your virginity. He was your first love and has always been in your heart.

"You may be dating Zayne, but I knew you couldn't forget about me pipsqueak." Caleb moaned beside your ear. You whimpered from hearing his low and deep voice. It was very seductive and he was trying to woo you with his voice and words. Things he knew you loved. "Yesterday in the interrogation room, your body and pussy accepted me, didn't they?"

Caleb kissed your ear.

"Don't play hard to get, you know you want this."

You did. You hated how much Caleb knew you inside and out. He always knew what you were thinking. He knew where to find you when you were hiding. And he never does anything that would make you hate him.

~~~

"Ca-Caleb~" You tried to hold back your moans.

Caleb had you on the floor with your waist held up. Your hands was at his head, trying to push him away from your pussy, but he kept still, eating you out. His tongue flicked at your clit, sucking your slit folds and lightly thrusting his tongue into you. Caleb took off your underwear and your pencil skirt was pushing up, giving Caleb more access to your bare skin.

Caleb was hungry. It was like he was savoring his last meal. It had been took long since Caleb had you. He left you alone for a couple months and you fell into an embrace of another man. Caleb just had to win you back.

He had to remind you, who eats your pussy the best.

You whine when Caleb stopped. He took deep breaths, before going back to pleasure you.

Remind you, who knows you the most.

Caleb gave your pussy a long lick across. He loves watching you thrash around because of him.

Remind you, who this pussy belongs to.

You came, unable to hold yourself together. Caleb allowed your body to fall on the floor. You tried to crawl away from him, when Caleb grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him.

"N-no~" You shook your head, not wanting Caleb to get his way.

"Look at me, pipsqueak."

Caleb hovered over you, you met his eyes of longing and yearn. "I'm here with you this time." Caleb's purple eyes shined. This was your Caleb.

"…that's not fair, you can't come and go whenever you please." You weren't buying it.

You turned away from him, but that only made him chuckle. He slapped your ass, you freezing. And again, and again.

"!!!" You took a deep breath, turning to Caleb.

"You never listen to what I say, I should have just subjected to this. You love this, didn't you?" Caleb smacked your butt, your poor cheeks turning a little red. It wasn't painful, it was exciting. "You refuse me, but look how wet your little pussy is."

Caleb rammed his fingers into you.

"A-ah~" You moaned with how forceful and fast Caleb was going. His fingers thrusted deeply into you. Th-three fingers? N-no, i-it was four! Caleb was stretching you out for himself.

You had to get away (f/n).

If he sticks his cock into you, you'd break.

You moved forward-

"Oh, don't do that." Caleb grabbed your hips, pulling you back to him. "You're about to cum, aren't you? Going to cum again pipsqueak? You can do it."

You shook your head.

"N-not again~ i-it's too much..!" You pleaded with Caleb. "T-too much, Ca-Caleb, s-stop it~"

And you came. Caleb let you ride out your orgasm with his fingers never stopping. You let tears fall out of frustration. It felt so good, but so wrong.

You fell to the ground, Caleb's fingers falling out of you as you tried to catch your breath. Caleb took his fingers to his mouth and sucked on your juices.

"So sweet.." Your pussy gushed with how Caleb was sucking his fingers. You wanted him to suck on your pussy again.

No, (f/n)! Get a hold on yourself!

Caleb stood up and walked over to a cabinet. He pulled out some condom packets and returned to your side.

"Pipsqueak, don't worry, I got you."

You watched Caleb place the condom on his cock. Caleb groaned, preparing his cock for you.

"You can trust me. I'm always here for you."

His cock lined at your entrance.

Zayne…

You thought of Zayne as Caleb's cock entered you once again.

masterlist | lads masterlist | prisoner of love

[obsidiannebula]

Need everyone to know that only moments ago my beloved husband of three years theatrically rejected my hug demands in the hallway, and then not ten seconds later texted me "come hug ho" in order to lure me into the unlit room where he was lurking behind the door in an attempt to scare me. Horrible gremlin of a man. I will be keeping him

[icewindandboringhorror]

Current temperature inside of my room right now in the middle of the night whilst about to go to sleep... villain origin story...

[thatlittledandere]

I think I'm gonna die in my sleep in this hotel room Like Actually. It's small and stuffy and it's hot outside and it doesn't even have a WINDOW. There's a small vent and a whatchamacallit fan but even if I keep it on the whole night I'm like. I already feel lightheaded in here and I may be tired but it's not just that the air is Really Bad. Like actually. It's really bad in here I'm gonna be sick