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lupinqs · 18 days ago

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SAFE AND SOUND (2/3) ━━ pazzi

☆ ━ summary: in which azzi fudd forms an unexpected alliance with paige bueckers as they fight for survival in the hunger games.

☆ ━ word count: 13.2K

☆ ━ warnings: violence, death, angst

☆ ━ links: part one, my masterlist, ao3 link

☆ ━ author’s note: hiiii guys i’m so so sorry this took me so long to update but it’s here!! this was supposed to be only two parts and the next one and this were just gonna be combined but it was way too long so i split it. the next one’s not done so i think probably expect it within the next week or two ish. i love you all very much, sorry the wait 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

THE MOMENT the gong sounds, Azzi dives straight into the water, warm against her skin. The lake swallows her, and she kicks with everything she has, propelling herself toward the Cornucopia. Her strokes are powerful, but the distance is unforgiving, and already, she can sense that others are faster. The Careers are already ahead, closing in on the Cornucopia with quickly. Still, Azzi doesn’t stop; she has to get there, has to grab something. Anything.

As she reaches the edge of the rock path leading to the Cornucopia, she pulls herself out of the water, breathing hard. Just ahead, she catches a glimpse of the chaos already unfolding. The boy from District Two, already armed with a spear, drives it mercilessly into one of the smaller tributes—a younger boy, barely a teenager. The sight is jarring, but Azzi pushes down the rising bile in her throat. She can’t afford to care right now. Caring won’t keep her alive.

Her gaze darts to the girl from Four, who’s snatched up a pair of gleaming daggers—daggers Azzi had trained with, daggers she knows like the back of her hand. Cursing under her breath, she realizes getting those now is out of the question. The girl from Four is already twirling them with through her fingers, her sharp eyes scanning the scene for her next target.

Azzi whips her head back, weighing her options. It’s too dangerous to stay here, especially without a weapon. She makes a split-second decision and sprints across the slick rocks, her feet pounding against the stone as she veers toward the sandbank just beyond the Cornucopia’s reach.

There, half-buried in the sand, is a bag. She snatches it up, hoping it has at least a water canister, maybe something small she can use for defense. She pulls it onto her shoulder and glances around, her senses sharp, her body wired with tension.

And that’s when she spots Paige.

Just a dozen feet away, Paige stands on the sand, her face set in a fierce, determined expression. In her hand is a long, gleaming sword—a weapon Azzi has seen her handle in training. For a split second, their eyes meet, and Azzi feels her breath hitch. She expects Paige to charge at her, sword raised, like any tribute with a weapon would in this bloodbath. But Paige’s gaze doesn’t hold malice. Instead, it flickers with a strange intensity, almost as if she’s thinking.

Before Azzi can process it, Paige turns and bolts in the opposite direction, toward one of the jungle’s shadowed openings. She’s gone before Azzi can think twice, disappearing into the dense foliage with a swiftness that surprises her. Paige had every opportunity to attack, to strike her down in those tense seconds—but she didn’t.

Shoving that thought away, Azzi tightens her grip on the bag and bolts toward the jungle as well, but in the opposite direction, breaking away from the madness of the bloodbath. Behind her, the cries and screams of the other tributes echo through the arena, mingling with the blast of cannons signaling deaths. She pushes forward, her lungs burning as she sprints deeper into the undergrowth, her eyes sharp and her every sense alert.

The forest closes around her, humid and dark, each shadow concealing possible threats. As the sounds of the bloodbath fade into the distance, she feels her pulse slow just a fraction. Her body tingles with exhaustion and relief, but she can’t stop. Not yet. She glances around, trying to gauge her surroundings—massive, twisted trees tower above her, and the ground is a tangle of roots, ferns, and thick moss. Everything about this place feels alive, watching her.

She can’t shake the image of Paige, sword in hand, standing just close enough to strike yet choosing to walk away.

Azzi trudges deeper into the jungle, her feet dragging through the thick, damp undergrowth. The humid air clings to her, and sweat beads on her forehead, trickling down her neck. Every step feels heavier than the last, her muscles beginning to ache as she pushes forward. She slaps at bugs that swarm around her face, their buzzing grating on her nerves. The jungle is loud—chirps, rustles, calls of strange birds echo around her, each sound making her flinch, alert for any sign of movement nearby. It’s overwhelming, but she’s not going to stop. She has to keep moving, put as much distance between herself and the Cornucopia as possible.

As she walks, her mind begins to drift, unbidden, to thoughts of home. She thinks about her family—her mom, her dad, her brothers. She wonders if they’re watching, whether they can bear to. If it were her Jon or Jose out here instead of her, she knows she wouldn’t be able to stand it, the anxiety gnawing away at her, knowing they could be killed any second. She wonders if her parents are clinging to hope, desperately, like she is. She imagines them sitting together on the couch, her mom gripping her dad’s hand so tightly, eyes glued to the screen, barely able to breathe. She swallows, her throat dry. Her family’s belief in her is part of what’s gotten her this far, but in this place, the hope feels fragile, a thread barely holding her together.

The jungle around her begins to darken, the sun slipping behind the canopy of leaves, casting long shadows that twist and shift across the ground. She doesn’t want to push herself any further tonight. It’ll be dangerous enough to try to survive on her own without tiring herself out before it’s even necessary. She scans the area around her, searching for a suitable spot to hide, somewhere she can rest without being exposed. Her eyes land on a small patch of ground where thick leaves drape down from above, forming a kind of natural canopy. She ducks underneath it, assessing. The foliage is dense, and when she sits down, she realizes it’s actually a decent hiding spot. She’d blend in here easily—maybe even well enough to avoid detection from passing tributes.

Her throat feels parched, and she swallows, but it’s a dry, desperate motion, her mouth almost painfully empty. She tries to ignore it, breathing steadily, as she takes the bag from her shoulder and pulls it into her lap. She unzips it, peering inside, her heart beating a little faster as she rifles through the contents. There’s not much, but she wasn’t expecting a miracle.

Her fingers close around a few items: a small pouch of dried fruit, a nearly-empty canister of water, a thin roll of gauze for minor injuries, a length of rope, and, most importantly, a dagger. It’s smaller than what she’s trained with, its blade not much longer than her hand, but it’s sharp enough to get the job done if she needs it for self-defense. She lifts it, testing the weight in her hand, relieved to have something, anything, that could help her. The handle is sturdy, wrapped in a grip that feels almost familiar. It’s a strange sort of comfort—small but real.

Azzi allows herself to eat a pieces or two of the dried fruit, savoring the slight sweetness on her tongue. She takes a cautious sip from the water canister, careful not to drink too much. She doesn’t know when she’ll be able to refill it, and the taste of the water only makes her thirst worse. After another small sip, she caps it tightly and tucks it back into her bag, pressing her lips together, trying to ignore the dryness that still lingers.

The quiet of the jungle settles around her, the distant sounds of birds and rustling leaves becoming her only company. She leans back, the dagger held close to her side, her fingers lightly wrapped around its hilt. She’ll need sleep soon, even if it’s just a few restless hours.

But for now, she just sits there in the dimness, her breathing slowing as she listens to the jungle and feels the weight of everything she has to face in the days to come.

And then she hears it. Faint rustling, faint footsteps. The sounds break through the jungle, and she can tell they’re near her.

Azzi’s heart drops as the rustling grows closer. She freezes, holding her breath, her muscles tensed as she listens. Someone’s approaching—it has to be another tribute. The thought alone sends a jolt of adrenaline through her veins. Her fingers fumble for the dagger in her bag, the small blade she’d found earlier now her only defense. She grips it tightly, her knuckles white as the sound of movement grows louder, just on the other side of her leafy hiding spot.

The foliage shifts, and a figure ducks beneath the canopy. For a split second, Azzi considers lunging, striking first before the intruder can spot her. But then she sees who it is.

It’s the girl from District Four—Leah, if Azzi’s memory serves her correctly. She’s smaller than Azzi imagined up close, her sun-kissed hair pulled back in a loose braid, her face pale and glistening with sweat. Leah looks startled, her eyes wide as she spots Azzi crouched under the leaves. Her reaction isn’t what Azzi expects. Instead of reaching for a weapon, Leah freezes, her hands flying up in an immediate gesture of surrender.

“Shit—sorry—fuck—” Leah stammers, her voice shaking as much as her hands. She looks terrified, almost as if Azzi is the bigger threat here.

Azzi narrows her eyes, her grip on the dagger tightening as she crouches lower, keeping her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree behind her. She doesn’t say anything, her mind racing as she sizes Leah up. If this was a trap, Leah was doing a decent job of acting harmless.

Leah seems to notice Azzi’s skepticism, her expression softening as she stammers, “I—I didn’t realize someone was in here.” She swallows hard, licking her lips nervously before adding, “Azzi, right? From Nine?”

Azzi nods stiffly, not letting go of her weapon.

Leah exhales, almost as if relieved by the confirmation, and nods back. “Okay,” she says, though her voice trembles. She looks around briefly, as if making sure no one else is nearby, before continuing. “I lost my district partner—I don’t know where he went. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. I—fuck, this is all insane. I wanna go home. That fucking blood bath today—Jesus Christ—”

Azzi’s eyes flicker over Leah, taking in the way her shoulders tremble and her chest heaves with shallow breaths. She looks a lot less intimidating than she did during the bloodbath. But Azzi doesn’t let herself relax, not yet. Her mind flashes back to the memory of Leah standing at the Cornucopia earlier that day, her hands slick with blood as she drove a knife into another tribute’s chest. She thinks that might be what’s going through Leah’s mind right now, too, her eyes haunted.

For the first time, Azzi feels something besides suspicion—pity. She doesn’t want to feel it, but it creeps in anyway, worming its way into her chest. She knows what Leah’s feeling, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Azzi hadn’t killed anyone in the bloodbath, but she’d seen the first death. She remembers the way the spear pierced the boy’s chest, the way his body crumpled like a doll. She remembers the blood, bright and pooling on the rocks, and how she’d forced herself to look away.

Leah’s voice breaks the silence. “And clearly your district partner isn’t here either,” she says, glancing around the small clearing. “So, do you wanna, like, do this together? I don’t wanna be alone, and I know you’re not stupid. You actually scored really high, and you kinda scare me, but this whole place scares me more, so…”

Azzi stares at her, her expression unreadable. Her instincts scream at her not to trust anyone, but she knows that being alone in the arena is just as dangerous. Leah isn’t wrong—Azzi’s district partner, Kellan, is gone, probably dead. And even if Leah’s offer is genuine, she has those daggers. She’s dangerous, whether she’s scared or not.

“How do I know this isn’t just a ruse to kill me?” Azzi finally asks, her voice low and guarded. “I know you have all those daggers.”

Leah flinches at the accusation, her face twisting with something close to desperation. “It’s not, I swear,” she says quickly. “I can prove it to you—”

She moves slowly, pulling her backpack from her shoulder and setting it on the ground in front of her. Azzi tenses, her muscles coiling like a spring as she watches Leah unzip the bag. Her hand tightens around her dagger, ready to strike if Leah tries anything.

But Leah doesn’t attack. Instead, she reaches into the bag and pulls out one of the daggers. Azzi stiffens, her grip on her weapon tightening.

Leah holds the dagger out, hilt first, toward Azzi. Her hand shakes slightly, but her eyes are steady as she says, “You’re good with these, right? Can we call a truce? ‘Cause now you can kill me just as easily as I could kill you.”

Azzi stares at the dagger, her mind reeling. The offer feels surreal, too good to be true. But Leah’s trembling hand doesn’t waver, and for the first time, Azzi wonders if the girl in front of her is more scared than dangerous.

Slowly, cautiously, Azzi reaches out and takes the dagger. The hilt is cool in her hand, perfectly balanced. She weighs it for a moment before looking back at Leah.

“Truce,” Azzi says, her voice firm but cautious.

Leah exhales a shaky breath of relief and nods. For now, they’ve bought themselves a fragile peace, though Azzi knows it could shatter at any moment.

THE SUN rises sluggishly over the jungle, casting long shadows through the tangled branches. Azzi trudges through the humid undergrowth, her body aching with exhaustion. She hadn’t slept last night, her eyes darting between Leah and the jungle’s shifting darkness, her hand gripping the dagger Leah had given her. Trusting Leah felt foolish, even after their uneasy truce. Now, Azzi feels the toll of the sleepless night, the weight of every sound and shadow pressing on her chest.

Leah hadn’t slept either—not that Azzi saw. The girl had spent the night leaning against the rough bark of the tree, her knees drawn to her chest, her gaze fixed on the ground. Azzi isn’t sure how she feels about Leah. She doesn’t think she likes her, not in the way you’re supposed to like allies, but pity for her gnaws at the edges of her resolve.

More than that, Azzi feels something she hadn’t expected—relief. For better or worse, she isn’t alone.

Last night’s anthem confirmed what Azzi had already suspected. Kellan, her district partner, is gone. The Capitol’s cold, detached display of his face in the sky had solidified the hollow ache in her chest. She didn’t know Kellan well, but he’d been hers. Someone from her district, someone who shared a piece of her life before all of this. And he was so young. Now he’s gone.

Across from her, Leah had sighed in relief when the boy from District Four wasn’t among the dead. Azzi wondered then and wonders now how the two of them got separated in the first place.

Now, as the heat rises, the two girls trudge side by side through the suffocating jungle. The air is thick, sticky against their skin, and Azzi wipes a layer of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Hunger gnaws at her stomach, but she doesn’t say anything. The dried fruit in her bag is a precious secret she has no intention of sharing. She knows she can’t survive on it forever, but it’s all she has.

“You’re quiet,” Leah says after a long silence, her voice cracking—probably from the thirst.

Azzi shrugs. “I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“Food,” Azzi admits. “And water.”

Leah laughs dryly, though there’s no humor in it. “Aren’t we all?”

They keep walking, the jungle pressing in closer. Azzi’s ears strain against the sounds of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves. Her dagger swings lightly in her hand, the cool metal reassuring against her clammy skin.

Then she hears it—a faint crack, like a branch snapping. Azzi freezes, holding out an arm to stop Leah.

“Did you hear that?” she whispers.

Leah glances around, frowning. “Uh… no?”

Azzi keeps scanning the area, her instincts prickling. But Leah shrugs and starts walking again, brushing past a tangle of vines.

Azzi follows, her heart hammering in her chest, when suddenly a shout cuts through the thick air. It’s a boy’s voice, shrill with pain and desperation. Azzi’s stomach twists. A moment later, a cannon booms overhead, its echo vibrating through the trees.

Azzi gulps, gripping her dagger tighter. “Stay alert,” she mutters to Leah, her voice steady despite the unease sifting in her gut.

Leah nods, her face pale as she pulls one of her own dagger from her bag. The two of them pick up the pace, their steps lighter now, every noise setting their nerves on edge.

They’ve barely gone another few yards when Leah stops abruptly, her eyes widening. “Holy shit,” she says, pointing ahead. “Is that fruit?”

Azzi follows her gaze to a cluster of low-hanging bushes. Tangled among the leaves are round, green fruits, something similar to watermelons but smaller. Azzi’s stomach clenches at the sight, hunger sharpening her senses.

“Looks like it,” Azzi says cautiously, scanning the area for any sign of danger.

Leah’s already moving toward the bushes, her dagger still clutched in one hand. Azzi follows more slowly, her eyes darting to the treetops and the undergrowth around them. She doesn’t trust anything about this arena—not the stillness, not the fruit, and certainly not the idea that they’re alone.

But hunger wins out over hesitation. Leah’s already grabbing one of the fruits at a bush as Azzi kneels beside a different one to inspect the fruit herself. Cautiously, she cuts into the fruit with her dagger, watching as what appears to be water spills out. She opens it further, not seeing any suspicious warning signs that they’d been taught in training. It really might just be fruit.

Deciding that she’s going out to take her chances on it, Azzi takes her dagger, her hands steady as she works to free the thick-skinned fruit from its vine. The knife slices cleanly through the stem, and she lets the fruit drop into her hand. It’s heavier than she expects, a weight that promises nourishment. She turns it over once, twice, and then slips it into her bag and moves to cut another.

Her body aches—muscles tight from dehydration and exhaustion—and the heat of the jungle presses against her like a smothering blanket. Sweat trickles down her back, and the persistent thirst gnaws at her focus. But she keeps her hands moving, the rhythmic task of cutting the fruit offering a brief reprieve from the overwhelming anxiety that’s been settled in her chest since the Games began.

Behind her, she hears Leah rustling through her own bush, likely doing the same thing. Azzi doesn’t look back to see.

Another fruit hits the bottom of her bag with a satisfying thud, and Azzi reaches for the next one, her movements quick and precise. She’s already calculating how much her bag can hold, how far this food can stretch her survival.

Then, it happens.

A faint whistling sound cuts through the air beside her, too quick to process. Azzi feels a sudden sting along her cheekbone, sharp and hot, followed by a gasp of pain—not her own. She freezes, her hand flying to her face. When she pulls it away, her palm is smeared with blood. Her cheek throbs, the cut deeper than she first thought.

Her head whips around, mind on overdrive, eyes scanning the ground until they land on a dagger embedded in the dirt, its blade glinting under the dappled sunlight. A few feet from where she’d been crouched.

One of Leah’s daggers.

Azzi’s pulse thunders in her ears as the realization sinks in. Leah had thrown it. She had tried to kill her.

Azzi spins on her heel, her own dagger clenched tight in her fist. She doesn’t hesitate. She’ll fight if she has to, kill if she has to, would strike first if necessary. Leah’s already made her move, and Azzi isn’t about to give her a second chance.

But the sight that greets her isn’t what she expects.

Leah’s there, facing Azzi, but her mouth is wide open, almost as if she’s in shock. Her eyes are clouded as they lock on Azzi, her hands hovering over her stomach—where the Fudd girl can see crimson beginning to spill out of. Leah’s breaths come in ragged gasps, each one more shallow than the last.

Behind the District Four girl stands Paige, yanking her sword free from Leah’s back with a sickening squelch. Blood drips from the blade, pooling at Paige’s feet. Her expression ks grim, her lips pressed into a thin line of disgust as she watches Leah collapse fully to the ground.

Azzi’s grip tightened on her dagger, her thoughts racing too fast to catch hold of any one of them. She takes an involuntary step back, her instincts screaming at her to run, to fight, to do something.

Paige turns, her gaze locking onto Azzi. Her eyes scan Azzi quickly, lingering on the blood still dripping from her cheek. “Are you alright?” she asks, her voice calm, almost indifferent, as if she didn’t just impale someone.

Azzi furrows her brows, her confusion mounting. She doesn’t say anything, her silence a shield.

Paige tilts her head, her focus narrowing in on Azzi’s cheek. “Your face,” she says, pointing. “She hit you. You’re bleeding.”

Azzi touches her cheek again, feeling the sting that seems sharper now that she‘a aware of it. She mutters, “Yes,” her voice cautious.

Paige takes a step forward, but Azzi immediately steps back, keeping her distance. Paige raises her hands slightly, a small gesture of peace. “Relax,” she says. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Azzi isn’t so sure. “Then what are you here for?” she asks.

Paige sighs, wiping the blood from her sword onto a plant. “Leah and her district partner, Chris,” she begin, gesturing to the girl still writhing on the ground. “I think they must’ve been working together. Pretending to split up, making allies, then stabbing them in the back. Chris tried it with me. Clearly, he didn’t make it.”

Azzi’s mind flashes to the cannon they’d heard earlier, the scream that had preceded it. It makes sense now—it was from Chris. Paige killing Chris.

Paige gestures toward Leah’s bag, which she yanks off the girl’s shaking shoulder and slings onto her own. “She would’ve killed you if I hadn’t shown up. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Azzi frowns, her grip on her dagger loosening but not by much. She doesn’t know what to make of Paige, the girl’s casual demeanor both unsettling and oddly reassuring. “We should probably go,” the blonde says matter-of-factly.

“Why?” Azzi asks, voice sharper than she intended.

Paige looks at her, genuinely confused. “Why what?”

“Why would we go together?” Azzi clarifies, her voice edged with suspicion.

Paige raises an eyebrow, looking at Azzi like she’s just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Because we’re allies now.”

“Says who?” Azzi shoots back quickly. “I can’t trust you.”

Paige smirks faintly, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Well, I did just save your life, princess. The least you could do is say thank you.”

Azzi hesitates, torn between anger and begrudging gratitude. “Thank you,” she mutters eventually, her tone icy.

Paige shrugs, unbothered.

“Why’d you do it?” Azzi asks after a pause, voice quieter this time. “Save my life?”

Paige’s smirk softens just slightly, her expression unreadable. “I like you,” she says simply, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “Think I’d prefer you alive.”

The words send a strange jolt through Azzi, a mix of confusion and something else she can’t quite name. Paige doesn’t give her time to dwell on it.

She bends to pick up Azzi’s bag, now filled with fruit, and hands it to her. “C’mon,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi stares at her for a moment before taking the bag, their fingers brushing briefly. Without another word, she bends to retrieve Leah’s dagger—the one that nearly killed her—and follows Paige into the jungle, her thoughts swirling with questions she isn’t sure she even wants answers to.

THE ALLIANCE between Azzi and Paige begins tentatively, held together by necessity and a threadbare sense of mutual benefit. Azzi doesn’t trust Paige—how could she?—but she follows her lead anyway, dagger in hand and mind constantly calculating the odds of betrayal. Paige doesn’t seem fazed by Azzi’s obvious suspicion. If anything, she seems entertained by it.

On the first night, the heat and humidity of the jungle drops drastically, as if it was never there in the first place. It’s chilly—too chilly for them to get by with just their suits provided to them—and so, despite the obvious risk of other tributes seeing the smoke, Paige starts a fire. Azzi watches her do it, arms crossed, one foot ready to bolt if need be. Paige doesn’t say anything, just works, gathering the driest leaves she can find and other little twigs, her movements swift and practiced. When the fire finally sparks to life, Paige leans back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“There,” she says, brushing her hands off. “Warmth. You’re welcome.”

Azzi doesn’t thank her this time, just sits down across from the flames, her bag clutched tightly in her lap. The warmth is welcome, but her grip on the bag doesn’t loosen. The firelight casts shadows across Paige’s face, drawing out the lines of her cheekbones and jaw, making her look older, harsher. Azzi doesn’t know how much of that is real and how much is her own paranoia.

Paige sets Leah’s pack down between them, beginning to rummage through it. She pulls out a handful of berries, some kind of dried meat, and a canteen of water. She tosses the berries in Azzi’s direction. “Split these,” she says, her tone casual, like they’re sharing snacks at home and not in the middle of the Hunger Games.

Azzi hesitates. The gesture feels… too friendly. Too easy. But she’s starving, and the berries are already in her lap. She picks out a few and eats them cautiously, her eyes never leaving Paige as the other girl tears into the dried meat.

By the second day, they’ve settled into an uneasy rhythm. Paige takes the lead, her sword strapped to her back, her eyes scanning the dense jungle for threats. Azzi lingers a few paces behind, a dagger at the ready. They don’t talk about what they’re doing or where they’re going. They just move, staying quiet, their footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush.

It’s strange, how well they work together. Paige has a hunter’s instinct, sharp and efficient. She knows how to find food, how to avoid the areas where other tributes might be lurking. Azzi’s no slouch, either. She’s quick and observant, spotting details Paige sometimes misses—a broken branch, a faint footprint in the mud.

They come across a stream in the early afternoon, the water clear and cold. Paige crouches by the edge, refilling their canteens while Azzi stands nearby, her dagger still in hand. She watches as Paige splashes her face with water, the sunlight catching on her cheekbones.

“You’re wasting it,” Azzi says sharply.

Paige looks up, water dripping from her face. She grins. “Relax, princess. There’s plenty.”

Azzi bristles at the nickname but doesn’t respond. She turns her attention back to the jungle, scanning for movement.

Despite everything, she can’t shake the feeling that Paige might turn on her at any moment. But the thing is—she doesn’t. She doesn’t even try. She doesn’t make any sudden moves, doesn’t say anything suspicious. She just… exists. And she’s good at this, Azzi realizes—surviving. It’s almost unsettling how calm she seems, as if the chaos of the Games hasn’t touched her.

That night, they set up camp under a large tree with low-hanging branches. Paige climbs up first, testing the sturdiness of the limbs, then gestures for Azzi to follow. They settle on opposite sides of the branch, Paige leans back against hers, one leg dangling, while Azzi stays perched, her back straight and her dagger balanced on her knee.

For a while, they sit in silence, the only sound that of crickets and their own heavy breathing. It’s hot and humid tonight, enough to make them both sweat, Azzi continuously wiping moisture from her forehead. The Gamemakers are very bipolar about the weather here, especially at night. They either freeze or burn—it’s very frustrating.

“Do you think anyone’s watching us right now?” Paige says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Azzi frowns, looking over at her. “I mean, yeah. The cameras are everywhere.”

“I know, but d’you think they’re focused on us? Like, on the broadcast?”

“Why does it matter?” Azzi asks.

Paige shrugs. “It doesn’t. I’m just curious. And bored.” She sighs, twisting a lead in her hand. “I bet the Capitol loves you. All broody and mysterious. You’re probably a fan favorite.”

Azzi glares at her. “Probably the opposite, actually,” she corrects. “They prefer the happier, flashier tributes. Like you.”

Paige smirks but doesn’t say anything.

Over the next few days, Azzi finds herself watching Paige more closely. Not out of suspicion, though that’s part of it, but out of something else. Curiosity, maybe. Paige is hard to pin down. She’s unpredictable in a way that doesn’t feel dangerous—at least, not to Azzi.

They split everything now—food, water, even weapons when necessary. Azzi is surprised by how natural it feels, like they’ve always been a team. Paige doesn’t seem to expect anything in return, doesn’t try to take more than her share. It’s unsettling, the way she treats Azzi like an equal, like she genuinely wants her around.

Azzi still doesn’t trust her, but she wants to. And that wanting feels dangerous in its own way.

And, despite herself, Azzi starts to notice small things about Paige. Like how she hums under her breath when they’re walking, or how she always keeps her sword within reach, even when they’re resting. Paige has a way of making everything seem lighter, less oppressive. She cracks jokes sometimes—dry, sarcastic quips that catch Azzi off guard.

“You’re really bad at this whole ‘trust no one’ thing,” Paige says one afternoon as they’re eating a small meal by the stream.

Azzi frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Paige gestures vaguely. “The way you keep looking at me, like I’m about to stab you in the back. If I wanted to, I would’ve done it by now.”

Azzi doesn’t laugh, but she bites back a smile. Paige notices, though, and her smirk widens.

“See? You think I’m funny,” Paige teases.

“I don’t,” Azzi says flatly, though the corners of her mouth betray her.

It’s strange, the dynamic between them. Despite the obvious distrust, Azzi’s oddly grateful for when Paige tries to make her smile. In a place like this, where death feels like it’s waiting around every corner, those moments feel… important.

On the fourth day, they come across another tribute—a boy from District Five. He doesn’t see them, and Azzi tenses, waiting for Paige to make a move. Paige’s hand goes to her sword, but she hesitates, her eyes flicking to Azzi.

“What do you want to do?” Paige whispers.

The question catches Azzi off guard. Paige is deferring to her? She swallows hard, mind racing. She knows what they should do, knows the rules of the Games, but the boy doesn’t look like a threat. He looks scared, lost.

“Let him go,” Azzi says finally, her voice barely audible.

Paige studies her for a moment, then nods. She relaxes her grip on her sword, stepping back into the shadows. They watch as the boy disappears into the jungle, oblivious to how close he came to death.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, but something shifts in her chest. Paige listened to her. She could’ve ignored her, could’ve killed the boy and taken his supplies without a second thought, but she didn’t.

That night, as they sit in the dark, Azzi catches herself glancing at Paige, studying the way the firelight dances across her features. She’s still wary, still ready to run if she has to, but for the first time, she wonders if maybe—just maybe—Paige isn’t the monster she’s been bracing herself for.

THE NEXT DAY brings the worst heat Azzi’s ever felt in the arena. The air is thick and oppressive, a humid weight pressing down on everything. It’s as if the jungle is trying to choke them. Sweat clings to her skin, dripping down her back and soaking the fabric of her clothes until it feels like a second layer of skin. Her lungs fight for air that seems almost too hot to breathe. Paige trudges ahead, silent and focused, her sword bouncing slightly against her back with each step.

Azzi stays a few paces behind, a dagger loose in her hand, though her grip is slippery with sweat. She tries to keep her head clear, her eyes alert, but the dryness in her mouth is impossible to ignore. Every thought is punctuated by the same need: water. They’ve been out since yesterday afternoon, their canteens drained, their bodies aching for hydration.

The jungle shifts slightly as they move, the terrain growing rockier. Paige pressed forward without hesitation, her movements confident even in the uneven ground. Azzi tries to match her pace but finds her attention wandering. Her throat feels like sandpaper, and her head throbs faintly with every step.

She doesn’t hear the snap of a twig to her right. Not until it’s too late.

Something hard slams into the side of her face, and Azzi is on the ground before she realizes what’s happening. Pain explodes across her cheek, sharp and hot, and she instinctively presses her hand to it. When she pulls her fingers away, they’re slick with blood. Her stomach churns as she recognizes the dark red streaks, her mind sluggishly registering that Leah’s cut has reopened.

Her head spins, the light filtering through the canopy almost blinding. For a few seconds, all she can do is lie there, her breath shallow and rapid, her fingers digging into the dirt beneath her. Somewhere to her left, she hears movement—a grunt, the rustle of leaves, and then a muffled whimper.

Azzi forces her eyes open, squinting against the brightness. Her vision swims, the jungle tilting unnaturally, but she manages to focus just enough to see them: Paige, pinned to the ground beneath a boy. His face is twisted in a snarl, his muscles straining as he fights to keep her down.

It takes a moment for Azzi to recognize him: the boy from District Eleven. He’s big, muscular, and holding a machete that glints menacingly in the dappled light. Paige is fighting him, her hands pushing against his shoulders, her legs kicking out, muscles flexing. Against anyone else, she probably could’ve stopped them—she doesn’t look it, but she’s strong. Tall and strong. But it doesn’t matter now—it’s not enough. He’s got the bulk advantage over her, his weight pressing her into the ground.

“Fuck—get off!” Paige yells, her voice breaking with frustration and unmistakeable fear. She twists beneath him, trying to buck him off, but he grabs her throat, cutting off her words.

Azzi’s breath catches, her heart pounding in her chest. Paige’s face is flushed, her eyes wide, her hands scrabbling at his wrist as he chokes her.

For a moment, all she can think is that Paige is going to die. She can see it happening—the machete coming down, the boy choking the life out of her, Paige’s face going slack—and the thought fills her with something fierce and unrelenting.

She doesn’t want Paige to die. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

Her hands fumble at her side, searching for her dagger. Her head spins as she moves, her fingers brushing the hilt. She grabs it, tightens her grip, and throws it with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Catch and shoot. Just like basketball.

It’s not a perfect throw—her head is pounding too much for that—but it’s good enough. The blade buries itself in the boy’s neck, and he jerks back, his hands flying to the wound as blood spurts out in thick, dark streams. He falls to the side, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. The machete slips from his grasp, clattering onto the rocks.

A cannon fires, the sound echoing through the jungle.

Azzi exhales shakily, her chest tight, her hands trembling. She pushes herself to her feet, swaying slightly as her head protests the movement. The world tilts dangerously, but she forces herself to move, stumbling toward Paige.

Paige is still lying on the ground, gasping for air. One hand hovers near her throat, where the boy’s grip has left an angry red imprint. Her other arm is pressed against her chest, blood dripping steadily from a gash that runs along her forearm.

“Are you okay?” Azzi asks, her voice hoarse. She’s not sure if it’s from the heat, the dehydration, or the raw surge of adrenaline.

Paige looks up at her, her chest heaving. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just stares at Azzi with wide, stunned, crystal blue eyes. Then she murmurs, almost incredulously, “You saved my life.”

Azzi shakes her head, though the movement makes her vision blur. “Just returning the favor.”

She holds out a hand, and Paige hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. Her grip is warm and solid despite the faint tremor in her fingers as Azzi pulls her to her feet. Paige sways slightly, her balance off, and the younger girl steadies her instinctively. They end up leaning into each other, both unsteady and aching.

Paige stares at her for another long second as they don’t speak, just breathe heavily. There’s something in her clear eyes that makes Azzi anxious, some sort of soft, yet scared emotion that seems to be threading through both of them. And then, without warning, Paige lifts her hand and brushes Azzi’s cheek, featherlight yet still startling. The touch is soft, almost hesitant, and when Azzi glances at her, Paige is frowning faintly, her fingers coming away stained with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” Paige says, her voice almost stupidly soft.

“I’m good,” Azzi replies, even though her head is pounding so hard she can barely think. Azzi does her best to ignore the ache, her eyes sliding across Paige’s figure, giving her another once-over. The imprint on her neck, her bloodied up arm. “Are you sure you’re good?” she asks slowly, trying to mask the sudden, obvious concern that wants to lace its way into her tone.

Paige’s eyes linger on her for a moment longer before she seems to snap out of it. She pulls her hand back, clutching at the wound on her arm, which continues to pool with blood. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, though her voice is strained.

Azzi doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she mutters, “We gotta find water.”

Paige nods, her expression sobering some, though it’s still slightly dazed. And then they begin walking.

THE JUNGLE swallows them whole as they move forward, side by side now instead of their usual formation. Paige is no longer leading, and Azzi is no longer trailing behind, watching the girl’s back like some unwilling shadow. Instead, they lean into each other, a pair of battered survivors held up by sheer willpower and the fragile balance of their shared weight.

Azzi keeps one hand on her dagger, just in case, though the other grips Paige’s shoulder like a lifeline. Her legs ache, her skull throbs, and her throat is dry enough that every swallow feels like it’s scraping raw. The heat is unbearable, pressing down on her like an iron hand, and every step feels like wading through wet cement. She keeps going anyway. She doesn’t have a choice.

Her head pounds in relentless waves, and for the first time, a new kind of fear creeps in. She wonders if it’s more than just the heat and exhaustion. The boy had hit her hard—harder than she’d let herself admit at the time—and now her thoughts are sluggish, her balance unsteady. It could be something serious—an actual brain injury.

She shakes the thought away quickly, but it lingers in the edges of her mind, a shadow she can’t quite dispel. She focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, on the sound of Paige’s uneven breaths beside her, and on the way the jungle seems to stretch endlessly before them.

Paige hasn’t said a word.

It unnerves Azzi more than she wants to admit. Paige, for all her flaws and quirks, has been a constant stream of chatter since the two of them reluctantly teamed up. Whether it was dry sarcasm, idle complaints, or even rambling anecdotes about her life back in District Five, she’d filled the silence with words that Azzi didn’t always want but had grown used to. Now, there’s nothing. Just the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

Azzi glances sideways at her. Paige is pale, her face slick with sweat, the blonde hair of her ponytail sticking to her neck in damp strands. Her forearm is still pressed tightly to her chest, blood seeping through the makeshift leaf bandage Azzi had tied around it earlier. It isn’t enough; Azzi knows that. But it’s all they have.

Her lips are cracked and dry, and every time she stumbles slightly, Azzi feels a jolt of worry she can’t suppress.

When had that started?

She doesn’t know when Paige stopped being just another competitor and started being something more. Something she’s not sure she can name. It’s terrifying, in its own way, the realization that she cares. If Paige had died back there—beneath that boy’s hands, choking on her own breath—Azzi doesn’t know what she would have done. The thought of it is enough to make her stomach churn.

Paige is a light here, Azzi realizes, her chest tightening. A bright, defiant force in a world that’s trying its hardest to crush them both. Azzi doesn’t know how someone like Paige exists in a place like this, but she’s glad she does. Even if she doesn’t want to be. Even if it’s dangerous to feel this way.

Cyrus would kill her if he knew.

The thought of her mentor brings a bitter taste to her mouth, though it’s hard to tell if that’s from the memory or just the dryness of her throat. He’d warned her against this—against forming attachments, against letting feelings get in the way of survival. “Emotions will get you killed,” he’d said, his voice sharp and unyielding. “You can’t afford to care about anyone but yourself.”

Azzi had nodded, agreed, and believed him. Until now.

The boy’s face flashes in her mind.

It’s quick, like the strike of a match, but it burns just the same. His body crumpling to the ground, the blood pooling beneath him, the light fading from his eyes. She’d killed him. Ended his life with a single throw of her dagger.

She tells herself it was necessary. That he was going to kill Paige, that it was him or them. She tells herself that this is what the Games are. That everyone here is fighting for the same thing: to survive. But the words feel hollow, even in her own mind.

He was just a kid. Hardly older than her.

Her grip on Paige’s shoulder tightens slightly, as if to anchor herself. Paige doesn’t react, her gaze fixed on the path ahead, but Azzi wonders if she notices.

The boy had wanted to live, just like they do. He’d fought for it, just like they’re fighting now. Azzi doesn’t blame him for that. She can’t. But she hates him for putting his hands on Paige. For pinning her down, for cutting her up, for choking her, for making Azzi do what she did.

Her thoughts circle back to Paige, as they often seem to recently. She glances at her again, taking in the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the sweat dripping down her temples, the way her lips are pressed into a thin, determined line. She wonders if Paige is thinking about the boy too, or if her mind is somewhere else entirely.

Azzi doesn’t ask. She doesn’t want to know.

Instead, she keeps walking, her feet dragging over the uneven ground, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of exhaustion, fear, and something else she can’t quite name. The jungle presses in around them, thick and suffocating, and the heat feels like it’s going to swallow her whole.

She needs water. She needs to sit down. She needs—

Paige stumbles, and Azzi’s hand shoots out instinctively to steady her. Paige mutters something under her breath, a faint “Thanks,” but her voice is weak, almost broken.

Azzi doesn’t respond. She just tightens her grip on Paige’s arm and keeps moving. They’re both too busted to trust themselves entirely, but they don’t have a choice. They can’t stop.

It feels like they’ve been walking for hours. Maybe they have. Azzi doesn’t know anymore. She’s too tired to care, her thoughts muddled by dehydration and pain.

And then, as if the universe finally takes pity on them, she hears it: the soft, unmistakable trickle of running water.

At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, a cruel trick of her exhausted mind. But then she catches sight of it—a narrow stream cutting through the dense foliage ahead, the sunlight glinting off its surface like a beacon. Relief washes over her so strongly that her knees almost give out.

“Water,” she croaks, barely recognizing her own voice.

Paige’s head snaps up, her eyes following Azzi’s gaze. She doesn’t say anything, just stumbles forward, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste. Azzi grabs her arm to steady her, and together they half-walk, half-fall toward the stream.

When they reach the edge, Azzi doesn’t even pause to take in the sight. She shrugs Paige’s bag off her back with shaking hands, digging through it until she finds their canteens. Her fingers fumble with the caps as she kneels by the water, filling both containers to the brim.

She shoves one into Paige’s hand, not waiting for a thank you before tipping the other to her lips. The water is cool, crisp, and it burns going down her dry throat, but she doesn’t care. She drinks until she’s out of breath, pulling the canteen away only to gasp for air before taking another gulp.

When she finally stops, her chest heaving, she glances over at Paige. The blonde is sitting, leant against a tree now, her back pressed to the rough bark, the canteen dangling limply in her hand. She looks awful—worse than awful. Her eyes are glassy, her lips cracked, and the blood on her arm hasn’t slowed. Azzi doesn’t know how she managed to get this far, if she’s honest.

Azzi sighs, hauling herself to her feet. Her legs tremble beneath her, but she pushes through it, crossing the short distance to Paige. “Let me see it,” she says, gesturing toward the arm Paige is still cradling.

Paige shakes her head, her lips curving into the ghost of a defiant smile. “I’m good,” she says, but her voice is weak, barely more than a whisper.

“No, you’re not,” Azzi counters, her tone sharper than she intends. She crouches in front of Paige, looking up at her with an intensity that makes the other girl falter. “Let me see.”

Paige hesitates, her gaze darting away as if she can avoid Azzi’s stare. But when she glances back, Azzi is still watching her, her expression unyielding. Slowly, reluctantly, Paige moves her arm, holding it out to Azzi.

Azzi takes her wrist gently, her fingers wrapping around the uninjured part of Paige’s arm. She can feel Paige’s eyes on her, burning into her face, but she doesn’t look up. She focuses on the makeshift bandage, peeling it back carefully.

The leaves come away slick with blood, and Azzi has to swallow hard to keep her stomach from turning. The cut beneath is worse than she thought—deep and jagged, the edges swollen and angry. Blood is still seeping from it, slow but steady, staining Paige’s pale skin a vivid red.

“Paige,” Azzi says quietly, the name heavy on her tongue. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Paige shakes her head again, biting her lip so hard that Azzi half-expects to see blood there too. “It’s fine,” she says, but her voice cracks on the last word, betraying her.

“It’s not fine,” Azzi says, her grip on Paige’s wrist tightening slightly. “He might’ve nicked a vein.”

“He didn’t,” Paige insists, but her voice is thin, almost desperate.

“Paige,” Azzi says again, her tone firmer this time.

She doesn’t wait for a response. She grabs her canteen, unscrewing the cap. “We need to clean it,” she says, not waiting for Paige’s agreement. “Hold still.”

Paige nods reluctantly, but Azzi catches the flicker of fear in her eyes. It makes something twist uncomfortably in her chest. She doesn’t want Paige to be scared. She doesn’t want her to be in pain. (She doesn’t know why.)

“Hey,” Azzi says softly, trying for a reassuring smile. It feels strange on her face, unfamiliar, but she hopes it works. “It’s okay.”

Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches Azzi with wide, wary eyes.

Azzi pours a small stream of water over the cut, wincing as Paige flinches. A soft whimper escapes the blonde’s lips, but she doesn’t pull away. Azzi works quickly, washing away the blood and dirt as carefully as she can, her movements slow and deliberate.

When she’s done, she sits back on her heels, surveying her work. The bleeding has slowed, but the cut still looks bad—too bad for her to handle with the limited supplies they have.

“We need to bandage it again,” Azzi says, her voice quieter now. She reaches into her own pack, pulling out a strip of fabric she tore from her shirt earlier. “This’ll have to do for now.”

Paige nods, her eyes glassy, and Azzi wraps the fabric around her arm as tightly as she dares. Her fingers brush against Paige’s skin as she ties the knot, and she can feel the faint tremor running through her.

“There,” she says, sitting back and meeting Paige’s gaze for the first time. “That should hold for now.”

Paige doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at Azzi, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she mutters, “Thanks.”

Azzi nods, her throat too tight to speak. She doesn’t know why this moment feels so heavy, why the look in Paige’s eyes makes her chest ache. She just knows that, despite everything, she’s glad they’re both still here.

And she’s going to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

THE SKY above them is painted in deep oranges and purples now, the last vestiges of sunlight breaking through the canopy. It’s beautiful in a way that mocks Azzi—the world doesn’t care that they’re here, bleeding and broken. The stream continues its soft trickle nearby, an unrelenting reminder of their vulnerability. Water is the most sought for thing in this arena—and she and Paige are right next to a steady stream of it.

Azzi’s head pounds, a rhythmic throb that matches her heartbeat, and her vision swims if she turns too fast. She presses a palm to her temple, trying to will it away, but nothing helps. She glances at Paige again—her breathing is shallow, her skin pale and waxy, the freckles dotting her nose stark against the pallor. Azzi doesn’t know much about medicine, but she knows blood loss when she sees it, and Paige is in trouble.

The bandage she’d rigged up is doing its best, but blood still seeps through the edges. It’s not enough to stop the bleeding, and Azzi feels a wave of helplessness crash over her. She’s supposed to be strong. She’s supposed to survive. But how can she survive when Paige is dying right next to her?

Their shoulders press together, grounding Azzi just enough to keep her panic at bay. Paige shifts slightly, her head lolling to the side, her eyes fluttering closed. Azzi doesn’t think—she just reacts, shaking Paige’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” Azzi says quickly. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Paige groans softly, a broken sound, but her eyes stay closed. “‘M tired,” she murmurs, her voice slurring. “Just… let me rest a minute.”

“No,” Azzi says, louder this time. Her chest tightens, her breath coming faster. She’s afraid, and it shows in her voice. “You can’t. If you fall sleep, you might…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the both know what she means. If Paige falls asleep, there’s a good chance she might not wake up.

Paige doesn’t respond right away, her head tipping back against the tree. Her neck stretches, her throat exposed, her brows furrowing, and for a fleeting moment, Azzi catches herself staring. It’s a small, stupid thing to notice in the middle of all this, but Azzi can’t help it. Paige, even like this—especially like this—makes her heart stutter in ways she doesn’t fully understand. She shoves the thought away, disgusted with herself. Now is not the time.

“Talk to me,” Paige says suddenly, her voice soft and pleading. It takes Azzi a moment to realize Paige is serious. “About anything. I gotta stay awake, so just… say something.”

Azzi hesitates. She has no idea what to talk about. But Paige’s eyes are on her now, hazy but expectant, and Azzi doesn’t want to let her down. “Uh,” she starts awkwardly, her voice hoarse. “I like basketball. It’s my favorite thing to do. It’s, like, how I escape stuff. I guess I love it.”

Paige’s eyes open a little wider, a spark of recognition flickering there. A small, broken smile tugs at her lips, and it hits Azzi harder than it should. “You like basketball?” Paige asks, her voice faint but teasing.

Azzi nods, feeling her chest loosen just a little. “Yeah. It’s everything to me.”

Paige’s smile grows, just barely. “Me too,” she whispers. “It’s my whole life.”

The admission surprises Azzi. She’d known Paige was athletic, but this feels… different. Personal. “Really?” Azzi asks, leaning in slightly despite herself.

Paige nods, though the motion looks like it takes effort. “I was kinda hoping—stupidly, maybe—that if I won this thing, they’d let me play in the Capitol. Like, with the pros.”

The idea is so absurd, so painfully hopeful, that Azzi feels a pang of something sharp in her chest. She stares at Paige, her throat tightening. “I thought the same thing,” she admits quietly. “I mean, it’s a dream, right? But they’d never let us.”

Paige shakes her head slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Probably not.” She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze unfocused. Then, she says, almost wistfully, “You and me, we could’ve—”

She doesn’t finish. A sharp breath hisses through her teeth, her hand twitching toward her injured arm. Azzi watches in concern, brown eyes softening, and then reacts without thinking, gently taking Paige’s arm and resting it in her lap. She presses down on the bandage, trying to slow the bleeding, her movements careful but firm. Paige winces, a soft whimper escaping her, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Keep talking,” Azzi says, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. She doesn’t know why it matters so much, but it does. She needs Paige to keep her eyes open, to keep responding, to stay here with her.

Paige nods faintly, her eyes searching for something to focus on. They land on Azzi’s face, and Azzi feels her stomach flip under the intensity of that gaze. “We could’ve been teammates,” Paige murmurs, her voice barely audible. “It would’ve been fun.”

Azzi’s heart twists, a dull ache settling in her chest. She forces herself to smile, though it feels like it might crack her face. “Yeah,” she whispers. “It could’ve.”

Silence stretches between them, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant gurgle of the stream. Azzi doesn’t let go of Paige’s arm, her thumb brushing lightly against the skin just above the bandage. She doesn’t know if it’s for Paige’s comfort or her own.

The night creeps closer, the colors in the sky fading to deep purples and blues. And as they do, things just continue to get worse. Paige’s shoulder is warm and sweaty against Azzi’s, but her weight is starting to sag, her head lolling more with each passing moment. Azzi feels every shift, every shallow breath, and it’s like a countdown ticking in her ear. Paige’s ponytail brushes against the side of her face every now and then, soft and teasing, and for a second Azzi’s brain latches onto it—onto how bizarrely comforting such a small, stupid thing can feel in a moment like this. But it’s fleeting. The ache in her head won’t let her hold onto anything for long.

It’s getting worse. The dull throb that started hours ago has grown into something monstrous, a pressure building behind her eyes and pushing at her temples like her skull might split open. The jungle spins when she glances to the side, her vision streaked with dark spots that pulse in time with the pain. She can barely focus on anything, but she forces herself to keep her eyes on Paige. Paige, who’s somehow still upright, even as her arm hangs limp in Azzi’s lap, her blood staining Azzi’s hand through the makeshift bandage. The bleeding has slowed, but still not stopped entirely, and Azzi knows that’s not good enough. She doesn’t know how much blood Paige has left to lose, and the thought tightens around her chest like a vice.

Azzi reaches her free hand up, and it shakes slightly as she moves it to rub circles at her temple. The pounding in her cerebrum is unbearable, each throb sending a wave of nausea and dizziness through her. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus, but the spinning in her peripheral only gets worse.

She feels Paige stir beside her, hears the faint hitch in Paige’s breath before the blonde whispers, “Does your head hurt?”

Azzi’s eyes flutter open, and she turns her head just enough to meet Paige’s gaze. Those blue eyes—crystal clear even in the fading light—are wide and worried, and for a moment, Azzi forgets how to breathe. It’s startling, how much concern Paige holds there, as if the pain in Azzi’s skull is more important than the gaping wound in her own arm. Azzi swallows hard, pushing down the lump forming in her throat, and forces a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, um, a little,” she lies, her voice cracking slightly on the words.

It’s a terrible lie, and Paige sees right through it. Before Azzi can pull away or deflect, Paige’s uninjured arm moves, her hand coming up to gently cup Azzi’s jaw. The touch is featherlight, hesitant but somehow steady, and it sends a shiver down Azzi’s spine. Her breath catches in her throat, and she freezes, unsure whether to lean into it or pull away. Her body decides for her, staying perfectly still, as if moving might break whatever fragile thing this moment has become.

Paige tilts Azzi’s head slightly, her fingers careful as they guide her. Azzi’s cheek tingles where Paige’s skin brushes hers, and she wonders, distantly, if Paige can feel the heat rising there. Paige’s thumb hovers near the bruise on the side of Azzi’s face, and Azzi feels her breath hitch again as Paige murmurs, “He hit you hard. God—your cheek is almost purple.”

Azzi blinks, her brain struggling to catch up. She hadn’t realized how bad it looked; the ache had been drowned out by everything else—the adrenaline, the fear, the focus on keeping Paige alive. Paige’s voice pulls her back, soft and hoarse, but heavy with something Azzi can’t quite make. Her fingers brush over the bruise, trailing so gently it almost feels like a ghost of a touch, and then they skim over the cut on Azzi’s cheekbone.

The sting catches her off guard, and she flinches, a sharp hiss slipping out before she can stop it. Paige jerks her hand back immediately, her brows knitting together in regret. “Sorry,” she says quickly, voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” Azzi cuts her off softly. “Really. It’s fine.”

But it’s not fine. Not the pain in her brain, not the blood still trickling out of Paige, not the way Azzi’s heart stutters every time Paige so much as looks at her. None of it is fine. And yet, in this tiny, horrible moment, with death lurking in the shadows and exhaustion pulling at every fiber of her being, Azzi feels a flicker of something she hasn’t felt since she left home. Warmth. Connection.

It’s stupid. It’s dangerous. And it’s exactly what she can’t afford right now.

Paige settles back against the tree, her head lolling slightly, but her gaze stays fixed on Azzi. “You’re a bad liar,” she says after a moment, her lips twitching into a faint, teasing smile.

Azzi snorts softly, the sound dry and humorless. “Yeah, well… you’re stubborn.”

Paige’s smile falters, her eyes drifting closed for a second too long before she forces them open again. “Guess that makes us a good team,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible now.

Azzi’s chest tightens, the weight of those words settling heavily in her heart. She glances down at Paige’s arm, her vision blurry but still enough to make out the blood-soaked bandage that seems to mock her efforts, and then back up at Paige’s face. She looks fragile, too pale and too still, her breathing shallow and uneven. Azzi swallows hard, fighting back the wave of helplessness threatening to drown her, and shifts slightly, leaning more of her weight into Paige’s side.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Azzi says quietly, her voice firmer than she feels. “Stay with me, okay?”

Paige hums faintly, her head tipping to rest lightly against Azzi’s. “I’ll try,” she whispers.

It could be a minute or an hour between that and the start of the ticking. It’s faint, barely there, a soft, irregular beat that worms it’s way into Azzi’s consciousness through the relentless pounding in her skull. At first, she thinks it might be her own pulse, amplified by the migraine that’s been eating at her focus all day, but then it grows louder, unmistakably external. Her head tilts, almost unconsciously, toward the sound, the motion sending a fresh wave of nausea spiraling through her.

It takes a second for her to pinpoint it, her vision hazy and the world dimming in the creeping twilight, but then she sees it. A small box, dangling precariously from a flimsy parachute, drifting slowly through the humid, stagnant air until it lands in the underbrush just a few feet away. The silver fabric of the parachute glimmers faintly in the dwindling light, and for a moment, Azzi wonders if she’s hallucinating.

She blinks hard, her dry, stinging eyes struggling to focus. No, it’s real. It has to be.

“What is that?” Paige’s voice is groggy, slurred with exhaustion and pain. She doesn’t move, just tilts her head a fraction toward the clearing, her expression half-curious, half-disoriented.

Azzi doesn’t answer. She can’t. The words are lodged in her throat, tangled up with the sudden, desperate burst of hope that’s surging through her chest. Instead, she shifts carefully, so slowly it feels like her joints might creak from the effort. Paige’s arm is still draped across her lap, and Azzi tilts it gently, settling it back in Paige’s lap as if it’s something fragile and precious. “Stay here,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige gives her a bleary nod, her head falling back against the tree trunk, and Azzi takes a shaky breath as she pulls herself to her feet. Her legs feel like rubber beneath her, unsteady and unreliable, and the moment she straightens, the world tilts alarmingly. Her vision blurs, the dark shapes of the trees around them smearing together into a dizzying kaleidoscope, and her head pounds so viciously she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

She stumbles but manages to catch herself on the rough bark of the tree. Her palm scrapes against it, a sharp sting that grounds her just enough to push forward. Each step is an act of will, her body screaming at her to stop, to sit, to let go. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Not when there’s a chance—no matter how slim—that what’s in that box might save them.

The small package sits nestled in the underbrush, it’s parachute caught on a low-hanging branch. Azzi crouches slowly, her balance wavering, and pulls it down with trembling hands. The rough fabric catches slightly on her fingers, and her head spins so violently she nearly collapses right there. Somehow, she makes it back to where Paige sits slumped against the tree, her eyes half-closed but still tracking Azzi’s movements.

Azzi drops to her knees in front of her, cradling the box in her lap like it’s something sacred. Her hands shake as she fumbles with the lid, her pulse pounding in her ears so loudly she can barely hear anything else. It takes a moment—too long, in her opinion—but eventually, the lid pops off, revealing the contents inside.

A tub of ointment, labeled in neat, blocky letters: for open wounds. Two small pills in a clear, sealed pouch, labeled simply: for the pain. And tucked into the corner, a folded piece of paper. Azzi snatches up the note first, her heart hammering as she unfolds it.

Keep it up. The Capitol loves you.

It’s signed by both Azzi and Paige’s mentors—a joint act.

Azzi’s chest tightens. Relief crashes over her, sharp and almost painful in its intensity, but it’s laced with something darker, something bitter. She’s grateful, of course she is, but the note is a cruel reminder of the game they’re playing—the performance they’re expected to give. Their survival isn’t just dependent on their own skill or willpower; it’s a spectacle, a source of entertainment for people who will never know what it feels like to bleed in the dirt, to fight for every breath, to endure the kind of pain that makes you wonder if it’s been worth it.

Azzi swallows hard, her throat tight, and turns the note toward Paige. Paige blinks at it, her eyes squinting as she tries to focus on the words. When she finally makes them out, a small, breathy laugh escapes her, soft and incredulous. She lets her head fall back against the tree, a faint, almost dazed smile tugging at her lips. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly. It’s unclear whether she’s laughing out of relief or disbelief—or both.

The sound of Paige’s laugh, faint as it is, warms something deep in Azzi’s chest. It’s a reminder that they’re still here, still alive, still capable of finding something—anything—to hold on to. Before she can stop herself, she feels her own lips curve upward, the faintest ghost of a smile breaking through the exhaustion and pain that’s been weighing down on her for what feels like forever.

It’s small at first, tentative, but it grows, soft and real, until her dimples poke out—a feature that hasn’t seen light since she left home. The warmth of the grin spreads across her face like a sunrise breaking through the clouds. It feels strange to smile like this here, in the arena, in the state they’re in, but it’s genuine, and it’s hers.

When she looks back at Paige, she finds the older girl staring at her. Paige’s blue eyes are hazy, rimmed with near agony, but there’s something else in them, something unspoken and undeniable as they trace over Azzi’s face. It’s a look that sends a flicker of warmth rushing through the brunette’s chest, even as her headache rages on.

And then, despite everything, Paige grins back. It’s slower, lazier, and nowhere near as bright as it would be if they weren’t half-dead in a jungle, but it’s real. And for a moment, just a moment, it feels like they’ve won something far more important than a sponsor’s gift.

But then Azzi snaps out of it, knowing they don’t have the luxury of wasting time. Every second feels stolen, borrowed against a future that’s far from guaranteed, and Paige is the priority right now. The thought flickers briefly in her mind—how strange it is to think of Paige as anything but her competition, how utterly backwards it is to put someone else before herself in a place like this. But the logic doesn’t stick. The part of her that knows better is drowned out by something deeper, something she can’t quite—or maybe just doesn’t want to—name. She shoves the thought away, as she has with so many others.

Her head throbs mercilessly, the ache radiating from her temple down to her jaw, making it hard to focus. The pills are calling to her, the promise of relief so tempting it makes her fingers twitch. But Azzi forces herself to look away, to lock in on Paige instead. Paige is the most pressing issue. Azzi can deal with her own head later, once the blonde isn’t bleeding anymore.

Azzi reaches for Paige’s arm carefully, the older girl watching her intensely as she does so. Those blue eyes, always so sharp and steady, are dulled, but they don’t wager as they track Azzi’s every move, as if she’s the exception to her exhaustion. It’s unnerving, almost too much, but Azzi doesn’t pull back.

Her fingers brush against Paige’s skin as she takes her injured arm, and she notices immediately how clammy it feels, how fragile. Paige doesn’t flinch, though, letting Azzi take the weight of it as she carefully unwraps the so-called bandage they’d thrown together earlier. The blood-soaked fabric peels away slowly, sticking in places, and Azzi’s stomach once again twists at the sight of the wound.

It’s still red and angry and oozing blood. The metallic tan got it fills the air, sharp and overwhelming. Azzi has to take a deep breath, steadying herself.

And then she’s dipping her fingers into the ointment, it’s texture slick and slightly sticky. Carefully, she begins to spread it over the gash. The instant it touches the raw skin, Paige hisses through her teeth, her body tensing beneath Azzi’s hands. Azzi freezes, her heart skipping a beat. “Sorry,” she murmurs, her voice low and soft, almost inaudible. She doesn’t want to hurt Paige, even if it’s necessary.

Paige’s lips press into a thin line, and after a moment, she nods. Her free hand gestures weakly for Azzi to continue. Azzi does, her fingers moving as gently as they can. She focuses on covering every inch of the wound, making sure the ointment is evenly spread, all the while hyper-aware of how close they are. She can feel Paige’s shallow breaths, can hear the faint catch in them every time her touch hits a particularly sensitive spot. It’s distracting, but Azzi forces herself to keep going.

When she finally finishes, she sits back slightly, her hands hovering uncertainty over Paige’s arm. Her fingers are smeared with leftover ointment and stained crimson, and the sight of the blood—Paige’s blood—sends a jolt of something sharp and unpleasant through her chest. She doesn’t let herself dwell on it.

Azzi reaches into the box, pulling out one of the pain relief pills from the small pouch. She hands it to Paige, her fingers brushing briefly against Paige’s palm as she passes it over. The contact is fleeting, but it feels significant somehow, like it leaves a mark.

“Take this,” Azzi says, her voice firmer now, though still edged with exhaustion. She grabs one of their canteens, unscrewing the cap and holding it out to Paige. Paige takes both the pill and the canteen without question, ripping her head back to swallow them. Azzi watches, relief flickering briefly in her chest as Paige’s throat bobs with the effort.

Once Paige finishes, Azzi moves to craft another makeshift bandage. She tears a strip of leaves, careful to pick ones she recognizes as cleaner, and secures them around Paige’s arm, tying them tightly enough to hold but not so tight that they’ll cut off circulation. The leaves feel flimsy, inadequate, but it’s better than leaving the wound exposed. The Capitol’s ointment might be effective, but Azzi isn’t willing to risk it.

Now that Paige is taken care of, Azzi finally lets herself acknowledge what her body has been screaming at her all along. She needs relief. Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches for the second pain pill, plucking it out of the pouch. Her throat is dry and the motion of swallowing feels sharp, but she forces the pill down quickly, chasing it with a swig of water from the canteen. The hope that it might take the edge off her pounding skull is the only thing keeping her upright right now.

She picks up the tub of ointment, planning to stow it away safely in one of their bags, when Paige’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Wait.”

Azzi looks over, confused, brows furrowing as her gaze lands on Paige. “What?”

Paige gestures toward the ointment with a tired flick of her fingers. “Can I see it?”

The request doesn’t make much sense. Paige doesn’t need more of it, and her wound’s already been ‘bandaged’ back up. But Azzi doesn’t ask. She’s too drained to question it, and maybe, in the back of her mind, there’s a tiny piece of her that would hand over almost anything Paige asked for without hesitation (yes, she knows how bad it is). Wordlessly, she holds the tub out to the blonde, who takes it with a quiet look of determination.

Azzi watches as Paige unscrews the lid, dipping her thumb into the cool salve and scooping up a small amount. Then Paige’s eyes lift to meet Azzi’s, her gaze steady despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “C’mere,” Paige says softly.

Azzi hesitates, blinking at her. “Why? What—”

Paige rolls her eyes, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Your cheekbone, Azzi.”

Azzi blinks again, then lifts a hand to her face, fingertips brushing against the gash just below her eye. She’s half-forgotten about it, the pain of her pounding head and the worry over Paige drowning out the sharp sting of the cut. Her cheeks flush faintly, but she nods, leaning forward just enough to close the gap between them.

As Paige’s fingers reach for her jaw, Azzi stiffens slightly. The touch is careful, light, and steady, but it sends a ripple of tension through her that she struggles to suppress. Paige tilts her chin up, her thumb brushing the salve gently across the cut. Azzi can feel the coolness of it on her skin, a faint relief that’s overshadowed by the warmth radiating from Paige’s touch.

Paige is so close. Too close. Azzi can see every little mark, every faint line of exhaustion etched into Paige’s face. Azzi’s heart seems to be pounding harder than her head now, and she forces her gaze to dart away, focusing on the rough bark of the tree behind Paige instead of the curve of her lips or the cerulean of her eyes.

The moment drags out longer than it should, Paige’s hand lingering against Azzi’s cheek even after she’s finished. Then, finally, she leans back, handing the tub of ointment back to Azzi. “There. Now you can put it away,” she murmurs, her voice quiet, her lips curving faintly into something soft and fleeting.

Azzi swallows hard, taking the tub and stuffing it into one of the bags with more force than necessary, as though sealing it away might also lock up the strange swirl of feelings tightening in her chest.

When she finally settles back against the tree beside Paige, she sighs deeply, the weight of the day pressing down on her. The pain in her head still hasn’t faded, and she closes her eyes for a moment, leaning back against the rough bark, trying to center herself. But then Paige’s voice breaks the quiet again, soft but firm.

“You should actually lay down,” Paige says. “Your head definitely needs it.”

Azzi shakes her head without even opening her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“No, Azzi.” Paige’s voice is sharper now, another flash of concern cutting through her exhaustion. “You need to lay down.”

Azzi turns her head, meeting Paige’s gaze. There’s something there, something in the way Paige is looking at her—equal parts frustration and care and just pure fatigue—that makes Azzi’s stomach tumble. Paige doesn’t have to say anything else. Azzi knows exactly what she’s suggesting. Her face flushes hot, and she rubs her temple again, trying to come up with an excuse whilst simultaneously trying to ease the pain. “Paige…”

“Azzi,” the blonde interrupts, her voice matching Azzi’s tired tone with an almost perfect mimicry.

Azzi exhales heavily, the tension draining from her shoulders. She knows she should argue, but she doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the pain in her skull is still unrelenting, or maybe it’s because, deep down, she wants to be closer to Paige. Either way, she gives in, shifting her wright and carefully lowering herself until her head is resting on Paige’s lap.

The moment she settles against the older girl’s thighs, she feels relief. The position takes some of the pressure off her pounding head, and the warmth of Paige beneath her is oddly soothing. She exhales slowly, letting her body relax for the first time in hours.

Paige doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t need to. Her fingers move slowly, hesitating for a moment before they come to rest against Azzi’s hair. And then, as if testing the motion, she begins to rub small, smooth circles against Azzi’s scalp. The gentle pressure eases some of the ache in Azzi’s skull, and her eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

Azzi’s hand, lying limply at her side, brushes agajnst Paige’s. It’s not intentional at first, just the natural shift of her body, but then her pinky moves, deliberately sliding closer until it touches Paige’s. She doesn’t interlock them, instead keeping the touch featherlight, just the barest connection. But it’s enough. It’s grounding. It’s more than she thought she’d ever have here.

Azzi lets her eyes fall shut, the ache in her head dulling slightly, and for the first time all day, she allows herself to truly breathe.

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dollfacedsl1ut · 1 year ago

Text

Crystal Moon

dynamic: g!p ning x siren!fem reader

synonsis: ningning went to a nearby beach to clear her mind but there’s a unexpected visitor who she meets along the way

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, exhibition, seduction, dacryphilia (crying), begging, overstimulation, both are dominate at one point, Ning is a little depressed lmk if I’m missing smth !!!!

wc: 1,329 or 1.3k

A/N: in honor of my LONNGGGGG awaited return I’ve made something new plus I’m accepting bg requests!!

The old sand molted the shape of ningning feet as she walked along the beachside, this was the only way she would be able to think, everything was just so clouded in her mind and she needed to catch a break, whether it was paparazzi or stalkers following her it was all too much, this beach reminded her of the good times she had as a kid although it looked different….. it was windier and cloudy all the time not a lick off sun in sight..

Ning rested against a large rock near the ocean the tidal waves marking their path in the brown sand, her eyes felted heavy as she glanced at the empty vodka bottle she had tucked away in her jacket, she knew she’d have to go back and face reality eventually but a little break wouldn’t hurt anyone

She let her eyes close for a brief second before a a sweet yet seductive tune played in her head, maybe it was the alcohol she thought over and over until the rhythm changed…”Yeah theres no way I’m dreaming” she thought as her legs dangled from the large rock, the tune got louder and more intense but the voice of whatever it was made her head foggy, foggier than it was before it was mind controlling in a way, she counted complain it was such as beautiful thing to hear but she felt like it was the only thing she heard the sound of the ocean water hitting the rocks gone, the sound of the birds chirping and flapping their wings erased, just the tune was heard, yeah she was in denial until a dark figure was seen moving from under the wooden brown bridge in front of her.

Maybe her suspicions were true she’s not dreaming…but in fact hallucinating Ning groaned as she lifted her body off the rock before plopping down on the sand, she could’ve swore she stepped on a seashell or a hermit crab? But nonetheless her foot was on a sharp object, she didn’t know if she wanted to check on her foot or follow the figure who released the tune..

She just couldn’t think straight so ignoring her very aching foot she went after it but the song got louder and more hypnotizing and intoxicating it felt like drinking the most throat burning alcohol in the world, right when it felt like she was gonna faint she spotted a dark purple tail she reached out to try and grab it but it moved upwards like it was begging Ning to touch it, but that’s when the song stopped as the tail turned into a pair of long soft legs

��H-hello” Ning said with a shaky voice unaware of the creature that was before her eyes, the now human walked in front of ning as she gawked, your skin was glistening as her eyes trailed from your body to your chest then your dark eyes, they looked lifeless to Ning but she didn’t move..she couldn’t move..it was like someone was holding her in place.. you were holding her place the song she heard wasn’t a dream or a hallucination it was you..you lead her here to do what exactly??

Your dark eyes pierced her skin, it made her feel invisible but when your hand touched and grasped her shoulder she knew you were real “w-who are you” she whispered “if I told you who I was I’d be banished so let’s just call me siren” her voice gave her chills as she nodded your presence drove her crazy but your body was hypnotic, needless to say there was a visble tent in her pants as she looked at you trembling “I must say I never seen another human on this beach in months” Ning almost came right there when you kept speaking to her, she didn’t know you could sense her arousal, your arms brung Ning in for a bare hug before dragging her under the wooden brown bridge, she wanted to scream and fight, she didn’t want to go with you, she didn’t know if you wanted to kill her or even take her away she was defenseless because she just had to come to you, she just had to be attracted to your song and follow you…

You reached the bridge as you placed her down on the sand this part was much darker and colder it made her nipples perk up under her gray hoodie, Ning was afraid but aroused, you straddles her hips as your hands rested on her shoulders “you know what I’m gonna do to you is your own fault right…..you purposely followed me for you’re own reasoning” she wanted to believe it wasn’t but your words persuaded her, a smile formed on your lips as you unzipped her hoodie, her skin was so and delicate, it was life one slice with your claws and her skin would be tainted

Your hands trailed to her pants as her tent was visible you smiles softly before pulling them down but leaving them on her thighs although you were gonna take advantage of her you didn’t want her to get horrifyingly sick, there was a sight of precum left in her boxers as you pulled them down revealing her cock, it stood upright as it smacked against her soft belly it was so thick and long, this was visibly the biggest you’ve ever seen even male sirens didn’t have this much girth you thought as you slide down your panties, there was a hint of worry on nings face as you lifted yourself up then guided down on her cock, the stretch was painful but bearable, you sank down until your clit reached her pelvis, Ning gasped and whimpered under you as her hands immediately went to your hips kneading the soft flesh, you tried your best to stay silent but it just felt too good your body weakened as you moved your hips against hers her cock felt good in your tummy, her tips was pushing and hitting your cervix as you got leverage and started to lift your hips and bounce on your cock, your whimpers didn’t go unproved by Ning as she kept kneading your hips while letting out whimpers or curses every other second, your cunt squeezed her cunt deliciously as your hips moved restlessly it was so magical and synchronized, her flesh slapped against yours as liquid ran down your legs she didn’t know you came yet until the white ring formed around her cock, she felt her high coming as you clamped around her, she didn’t know you could get this tight it was unbearable as tears rolled down her cheeks, she came inside your cunt with a loud cry as her hands squeezed you tight, but you didn’t stop you wanted to be full you haven’t felt like that in a while and she was your only option, her cock veins bulged and dragged against her spongy walls as you came again, your cum was beginning to soaked her joggers, Ning hiccuped as she pleaded and begged you to go faster, her feeble voice was such a turn on it made your cunt quiver around her, you felt her hands snake up your body and grasp your chest fondling with your nipples, you moaned at the sensation, as your hips stuttered.. you were close again but so was Ning her cock throbbed inside of your cunt as she squeezed and pinched your nipples your bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you came around her for the last time, Ning followed as her warm cum coated your walls.

Nings eyes closed as you lifted yourself off her, you cleaned her up but left her on the sand unconscious or conscious you’ll never know, but you did know she’d be back to look for you and always you’d be singing your tune wishing she would be the one to come find you….

#smut #ning smut #ningning aespa smut #aespa ningning smut #ning yizhuo smut #aespa ningning #aespa ning #ningning smut #ning yizhuo #ningning #karina aespa smut #karina smut #aespa smut #aespa pics #aespa icons #wlw smut #wlw post #g!p

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dystopic-view · 2 months ago

Text

Blue eyes and a box of cereal

Gojo x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A chance encounter with Satoru Gojo at the grocery store turns your ordinary day upside down. What starts as lighthearted banter leads to an unexpected first date, where playful tension lingers beneath the surface. As the night unfolds, things take a turn neither of you saw coming

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: fluff, first date, slow burn, tension, chemistry, playful banter, emotional connection, car ride, fancy dinner, first kiss, alternative universe

𝐖.𝐂: 4.4K

You first met Satoru Gojo in the most normal of places.

An aisle in a grocery store.

It was the kind of place where nothing out of the ordinary should happen, but when you saw him for the first time, everything changed.

The sound of conversation and the clatter of shopping carts faded, and all you could focus on was him.

Tall, unmistakably confident, with his snow white hair standing out even under the bright lights of the store.

Despite wearing a clearly expensive dress shirt and pants,, his presence alone drew all the attention.

You weren’t the type to stare at strangers, but something about him drew you in.

Maybe it was the way he casually scanned the shelf of cereal boxes, completely at ease, like there wasn’t a single thing in the world that could bother him.

Or maybe it was his eyes.

Those blue eyes that met yours for a second, catching you by surprise.

They held an intensity that made you feel like you were the only person in the store.

You didn’t realize you were standing in the way until he chuckled softly.

“Are you eyeing the same cereal as me? We’re gonna have to rock-paper-scissors for it,” he teased, a playful grin stretching across his face.

You felt your cheeks warm, suddenly embarrassed for blocking his path. "Oh, sorry!" You moved aside quickly, fumbling with your own basket.

The awkwardness should’ve made you retreat, but instead, you found yourself laughing at the unexpected interaction.

“No need to apologize,” He said, his movements smooth and easy as he grabbed a box from the shelf.

He glanced at it, then back at you. “Which one do you recommend?”

It was such a simple question, but there was a kindness and a gentleness to his tone that made you feel at ease despite your racing heart.

You gave a small smile, gesturing to the box he was holding. “That one’s pretty good if you like sweet things. But if you’re more into healthier stuff, I’d go for something with less sugar.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested in your suggestion. “You’re right. I should probably watch my sugar intake,” he mused, though his grin suggested he didn’t care much about that. “But I do have somewhat of a sweet tooth, so I think I’ll stick with the sweet stuff today.”

You smiled at his easy going nature, sensing that beneath his lighthearted exterior was someone who understood the world deeply but chose to approach it with humor and charm. There was something comforting about him, and without realizing it, you found yourself lingering, not wanting to leave this conversation.

He must’ve noticed, because he leaned in just slightly, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Do you shop here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

His question caught you off guard.

You nodded, a little flustered by his attention. “Yeah, I come here from time to time. I guess our paths just haven’t crossed until now.”

“Well,” he said, his voice softening as if he were letting you in on a secret, “I’m glad they finally did.”

His words lingered in the air for a moment, filling you with a warmth you didn’t expect.

There was something different about him.

Something that told you this wasn’t just small talk.

It felt like he’d somehow seen straight through to who you were in just those few minutes.

Before you knew it, you were chatting easily about the most mundane things.

Food preferences, favorite places in the city, how you always seemed to end up in the grocery store on your busiest days.

The whole time, Gojo listened intently, making you feel more understood than most people ever did.

As the conversation flowed, you realized that there was something special in the way he interacted with you.

He was thoughtful, always making sure the conversation was about you, never pushing to talk about himself unless prompted.

You could see now that despite his confidence and charm, he had a softness, a care for others that ran deeper than appearances.

It wasn’t about impressing anyone.

It was just who he was.

Eventually, you both found yourselves at the checkout, and a hint of disappointment crept in, knowing this encounter might be coming to an end.

You watched as he bagged his groceries with that same easy smile on his face, and just as you were about to say goodbye, he turned to you with a look that made your heart skip.

“How about we grab dinner tonight?” he asked, casually tossing his bag over his shoulder. His tone was light, but there was a sincerity in his eyes. “I mean, if you’re not too busy.”

You blinked, caught off guard but undeniably flattered.

There was no way you could say no. “I’d like that.”

He grinned, brighter than the lights over you. “Great. Then it’s a date.”

You fumbled for your phone, still slightly dazed by how casually he’d just asked you out.

“Let me give you my number,” you said, your voice a little softer than you intended.

You could feel the excitement bubbling inside, but you tried to keep your cool as you opened up your contacts app.

Gojo’s eyes were on you the entire time, his smile never leaving his face.

When you handed your phone to him, he quickly typed in his number, then handed it back. “There. Now you’ve got me,” he said with a playful tilt of his head.

You smiled at the way he made everything seem so effortless.

“I’ll text you so you have mine too,” you said, your fingers nervously hovering over the screen as you sent a simple, “Hey, it’s me.”

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it with a grin. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up around seven?”

You nodded, still in a bit of disbelief at how smoothly everything was unfolding. “Yeah, seven works.”

“Great, send me your address then” he said, taking a step back, his hand lifting in a casual wave. “I’ll see you tonight.”

As he walked away, you stood there for a moment, clutching your phone tightly.

It all felt a little surreal.

Meeting Gojo in such a random place and now, somehow, having dinner plans with him.

You glanced at the time.

You had a few hours until seven, and as much as you tried to calm yourself, the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t settle.

The rest of your day flew by in a blur, your mind constantly drifting back to the way he smiled, the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a little longer than normal.

Before you knew it, it was time to get ready.

You found yourself standing in front of your closet, second guessing every outfit you considered.

Casual?

Too fancy?

You didn’t want to overthink it, but it was impossible not to.

This was Gojo Satoru, a man who seemed effortless in everything he did, and you wanted to meet that energy.

You settled on a flowy light blue dress, not even realizing it matched the color of his eyes to perfection until you put it on.

Not too fancy, but not too casual either.

After all, you rather be overdressed, than underdressed to the occasion.

By the time seven rolled around, you were ready.

Still nervous but more excited than anything.

Your phone buzzed just as you were giving your reflection one last glance.

It was him.

“Outside :)”

You grabbed your bag and rushed out the door, feeling the cool evening air hit your skin as you spotted him leaning casually against his car, phone in hand, wearing that same easy smile from earlier.

“Right on time,” he said, pushing off the car and opening the door for you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the nerves from showing in your voice. “Where are we going?”

Gojo gave a mysterious grin as he slid into the driver’s seat beside you. “You’ll see. I’ve got a good spot in mind.”

The car ride started with the soft hum of the engine and the city lights blurring by outside the windows.

You were still trying to process how you ended up here, sitting next to Gojo Satoru, heading to dinner with him.

He was calm as ever, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the gear shift between you.

"So, do you always take strangers you meet in grocery stores out to dinner?" you teased lightly, trying to break the nervous tension that lingered in the air.

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Only the cute ones," he shot back, casually.

His grin widened when he saw you react, cheeks warming at his flirty tone. "What about you? Do you often go to dinner with guys who ask for cereal advice?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze, and replied with a playful glint in your eyes, “Only when they have a charming smile and a good sense of humor. You just barely made the cut.”

Gojo chuckled, leaning back slightly, feigning offense. “Barely? I’ll have to step up my game if I want a second date.”

You laughed, enjoying the banter. “Good luck with that! I have high standards.”

You both fell into an easy rhythm of conversation as the car made its way through the winding streets of the city.

“So,” he said after a brief pause, “What do you do when you’re not researching different types of cereal?”

You chuckled at his playful jab. “Well, I’m actually a florist,” you replied, leaning back in your seat, feeling the familiar excitement of sharing your passion. “I spend my days arranging flowers and helping people pick out the perfect bouquets for every occasion.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “A florist? That’s so cool! You must have an incredible sense of creativity.”

“Thanks! It’s fun to be surrounded by so much color and life. Plus, I love making people happy with flowers,” you said, your voice brightening at the thought. “But it can be a lot of hard work, especially during the wedding season.”

“I can imagine,” he replied, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you have a favorite flower?”

You pondered for a moment. “I’d have to say orchids. I once learned that orchids symbolize eternal love. Because of that they’re typically given to people after the passing of someone close, as a sort of sympathy. I find that beautiful. What about you? Do you have a favorite?”

“Honestly? I’m not that much of an expert on flowers,” he admitted with a grin. “I do love how they brighten up a room, though.”

You laughed, imagining him in a flower shop, trying to navigate the sea of different flowers. “I can picture it clearly. Surrounded by all these flowers, looking completely lost.”

He feigned a look of horror, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “That’s so mean! I would just be strategically analyzing my options. I’d definitely know the difference between a daisy and a dandelion.”

You both shared a laugh, and the conversation kept flowing naturally.

It felt good to connect with him on such a personal level.

You learned about his interests, his love for teaching, and how he often found himself getting lost in his work.

“So, what do you teach?” you asked, curious.

“High school students,” he replied, glancing over at you. “I try to keep it engaging, but sometimes they’re more interested in their phones than the lesson.”

“I can only imagine the challenge,” you said with a nod. “But I bet you have a way of making it fun.”

Gojo shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. “I try my best. I like to think I have a special talent for it. A little humor goes a long way.”

Just then, as you rounded the corner, the restaurant came into view, and a gasp escaped your lips.

It was a stunning place.

Modern and elegant, with soft lighting spilling out onto the sidewalk.

The ambiance was cozy yet kinda fancy, the kind of place you’d expect to find in a romantic movie.

“Wow,” you breathed, glancing over at him, your eyes wide. “This looks amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice light as he parked the car. “I thought it’d be nice to have a fancy dinner for our first outing.”

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words as you both got out of the car. “We didn’t have to go all out like this, but I appreciate it.”

He shrugged, giving you that light hearted grin again. “I just wanted to make sure we had a good time.”

As you entered the restaurant, the soft sound of live music filled the air, and you were immediately enveloped in the intimate atmosphere.

You were led to a secluded table near the back, where you could enjoy the ambiance without feeling overwhelmed by the crowd.

As you both sat down, a subtle tension began to weave through the air.

You could feel it simmering beneath the surface, an ever growing chemistry that had been building since the car ride.

The way Gojo looked at you, the way he leaned in slightly as he spoke, made your heart race just a little faster.

“So, what’s good here?” you asked, trying to break the tension but also genuinely curious about the menu.

“I’ve heard their steak is really good,” he replied, scanning the options. “But I’m a sucker for pasta. I might have to get both.”

You laughed softly. “Living life on the edge, huh? You’re going to need to roll me home if you keep that up.”

He chuckled as he leaned closer, his voice playful. “I’ll carry you if I have to. Wouldn’t want you to get too full for dessert.”

The playful banter made the tension crackle, and you found yourself leaning in too, a teasing smile on your lips. “Dessert is the most important part of the meal, after all.”

As you placed your orders, the conversation continued, flowing effortlessly from topic to topic.

But as the night wore on, you noticed moments of lingering silence where his gaze would hold yours a little longer than necessary.

It was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

When the food arrived, the plates were beautifully arranged, making your stomach rumble with anticipation.

As you took a bite of your meal, the flavors melting on your tongue, you noticed a shift in the air.

The comfortable rhythm of your conversation had slowed, leaving pockets of silence that felt heavy, but not awkward.

More like you both knew something was unsaid.

Gojo’s usual carefree smile had softened into something more thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against the glass of wine in front of him as he watched you.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” you said, trying to keep the mood light, though you felt the weight of his gaze. “Is the food that good, or are you plotting your next grocery run?”

His lips quirked up at that remark, but his eyes didn’t quite match the playfulness in his tone. “Oh, I’m always planning my next move,” he said, a touch of mystery in his voice. Then, after a beat, he added, “But tonight’s a little different.”

There it was again.

Another shift, the kind that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

You set your fork down, unsure whether you should push him to explain or wait it out.

He didn’t seem like the type to let his guard down easily, yet there was something in the way he was looking at you now, like he was measuring his words carefully before speaking.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, leaning in just slightly, not wanting to break the delicate tension that had formed between you.

Gojo hesitated, his fingers lightly grazing the rim of his glass. “I guess it’s just... rare for me to feel this invested,” he said, his voice still light but with an underlying seriousness that caught you by surprise.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat rise to your face, not from flattery but from the intensity of the moment. “Invested?”

He nodded, his eyes steady on yours. “Yeah. I like to keep things easy, fun. But tonight…” He trailed off, letting the silence linger between you.

His fingers stilled on his glass, and he leaned forward slightly, his gaze holding yours captive. “It’s not just fun. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling in the space between you.

You didn’t know how to respond, the lighthearted banter you’d been relying on earlier now suddenly feeling out of place.

Inappropriate even.

The conversation had taken a turn you hadn’t expected, and you could feel the tension stretching between you like a rubber band, ready to snap.

“Well, I” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

There was a vulnerability between you that felt raw, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to confront it yet.

Instead, you picked up your glass, taking a sip to buy yourself some time.

Gojo watched you closely, his smile softening into something less teasing, more genuine. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly, his voice low. “I just wanted to be real with you. I don’t usually get this caught up so quickly.”

His honesty hit you like a wave, breaking through the playful façade the two of you had been dancing around all night.

You could feel the intensity of his gaze on you, and it made your pulse quicken.

It wasn’t what you had expected, not from someone like him, but there was no denying the sincerity in his eyes.

For a moment, the noise of the restaurant faded away, leaving just the two of you at the table, locked in this unbearably loud silence.

Taking a breath, you set your glass down and looked him squarely in the eye. “It’s a lot to take in,” you admitted softly, your voice steady but your heart racing. “But I don’t think it’s a bad thing either.”

A slow smile crept across Gojo’s face, and he looked almost relieved.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice dropping a little, his grin turning more mischievous. “Because I was worried I was reading things wrong.”

Gojo’s mischievous grin lingered, but you could see the softness in his eyes as he leaned back, clearly more relaxed after your words.

The tension that had simmered between you throughout the night was still there, but it had shifted into something more subtle, more intimate.

As the meal came to a close, the waiter discreetly placed the bill on the table, and you reached for it instinctively. “I’ll get this,” you said with a smile, grabbing it before Gojo had the chance to react.

He raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?”

You nodded, determined. “You went through the trouble of taking me out, so it’s only fair I pay the bill.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers as he watched you with that signature playful glint in his eyes. “It’s cute that you think I’m going to let you pay.”

“I’m serious,” you shot back, pulling out your card. “At least let me pay my half.”

Before you could hand it to the waiter, Gojo’s hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. “You can try, but I’ve already taken care of it,” he said, his grin widening. “I had the bill added to my tab when we ordered dessert.”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him, incredulous. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I like to be prepared.”

You shook your head, defeated but laughing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said with a wink, his eyes twinkling as he stood up and motioned for you to follow him. “But I’ll make it up to you by letting you treat me next time. Deal?”

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile. “Next time.”

As you walked out of the restaurant, the cool night air hit your face, and you suddenly

became hyper-aware of the proximity between you two as you made your way back to the car.

Gojo opened the passenger door for you with that same casual ease, waiting until you were settled before getting in himself.

The ride back felt different.

The earlier lightheartedness had shifted again, replaced by a quiet tension that seemed to fill the car.

Neither of you spoke at first, the silence thick but not uncomfortable.

Just heavy, like both of you were waiting for something to happen.

His hands gripped the steering wheel lightly, but you could feel his attention flickering toward you from the corner of your eye.

Finally, Gojo broke the silence, his voice low. “So, did I do okay for a first date? Or do I need to step it up next time?”

You smiled, turning slightly in your seat to face him. “You set the bar pretty high,” you said, your voice teasing but sincere. “But I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with next.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the car. “I like a challenge.”

The conversation faded again, the quiet between you thickening as he pulled up to your apartment.

You suddenly felt a rush of nerves you hadn’t expected as the car came to a stop.

Gojo turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out right away.

Neither did you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly, breaking the silence as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” he replied, his voice equally soft but filled with something more.

His gaze was intense, like he was holding back from saying something he wasn’t sure he should.

You hesitated, your hand resting on the door handle as you glanced over at him.

And then, before you could think twice, you pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool air snapping you out of your own head.

Gojo quickly followed, walking you up to your doorstep, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, though his eyes never left you.

When you reached the door, you turned to face him, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the both of you.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves swirling in your stomach.

“I guess this is it,” you said quietly, unsure of how to end the night.

Part of you didn’t want it to be over just yet.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice just as soft.

His gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest second before returning to your eyes. “I’d say ‘see you later,’ but I don’t think I’m ready to leave just yet.”

There was a pause, the tension between you both growing unbearable.

Then, without thinking, you took a step closer, your breath hitching as his hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

His touch was light, careful, but it sent a spark through you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing, “if I don’t kiss you now, I might regret it.”

Your pulse quickened, your eyes locking with his. “Then don’t regret it.”

That was all it took.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his hand brushing against your cheek as he tilted

your face up to meet his.

His lips hovered just a breath away from yours for what felt like an eternity before he finally closed the distance, his kiss gentle at first, testing, but quickly deepening as the tension between you finally disappeared.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt as he pulled you closer, his thumb brushing softly along your jaw.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, and you found yourself sinking into it, your heart racing in your chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, both of you were slightly breathless.

He stayed close, his eyes half-lidded as he whispered, “So… dinner tomorrow too?”

You smiled, still catching your breath, your hands resting on his chest. “I was thinking the same thing.”

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “It’s a date, then. And you’re paying, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed softly, still feeling the warmth of his touch. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered, before he turned and walked back to his car, glancing over his shoulder to give you one last smile before disappearing into the night.

You stood there for a moment longer, watching the taillights of his car fade into the distance. Your heart was still racing, and you could feel the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin.

With a soft smile, you turned the key in the lock and stepped inside.

You sighed quietly, fingers lightly tracing the spot on your lips where his had been.

As you kicked off your shoes and made your way to the living room, your phone buzzed in your bag.

Fishing it out, you saw a new message from Gojo.

“Hope you’re still smiling. Sweet dreams, flower girl”

You couldn’t help but grin at the screen, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

The night had been so unexpected, but somehow, it felt like the perfect beginning.

You typed back a quick reply before curling up on your couch, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

“Still smiling. Sweet dreams, cereal guy”

You set your phone aside, knowing that you’d probably see him again tomorrow.

But for now, the memory of his kiss and the promise of whatever was to come was more than enough to fill your dreams.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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sc0tters · 1 year ago

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It Ain’t Easy | Ethan Edwards

summary: love would be a whole lot easier if your brothers were all on board with your boyfriend.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, 4:00am slightly edited writing 😭

word count: 1.63k

authors note: this is the official last piece before we start working on the December works. This is less than perfect because I tried to get this done beforehand, so let’s all play nice.

When Luke left Michigan he never thought that you’d end up dating one of his friends.

Sure you were twins and in the same friend group but the idea of you and one of his previous teammates was truly not something Luke even contemplated. Had he asked his ex housemates to keep an eye on you? Yes. Did he think that it would end up biting him in the ass as you rocked up to the lake house for the summer before your senior year with a boyfriend? Never in a million years, but somehow he was still sat there watching you cuddle Ethan on the couch.

You thought you struck the lottery dating a guy that your brothers already approved of. Ethan treated you well and after months of growing closer as you leaned on the older boy whenever you missed your brother it was no surprise when he finally made a move on you.

It was a warm February evening as Ethan walked you back to your dorm “you know you don’t have to do this every time we leave.” Without fail each time you came home from these parties Ethan was by your side keeping you company “someone has to make sure you get back in one piece.” The hockey player teased as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You looked up at him with a smile “well thank you for that.” You squeezed his hand as your heels clicked against the concrete path “I’m gonna have to find someone new to walk me home when you get a girl.” You joked letting out a giggle that was like music to Ethan’s ears as you both stopped seeing your dormitory appear in front of you.

Ethan scrunched his face in disgust at those words “not interested in those girls.” He explained shaking his head “didn’t know I’d be fighting men for you.” Amusement was evident on your voice as you crossed your arms.

It made Ethan click his tongue as a laugh left his lips “y/n I’m looking at the damn girl I want.” His words made you stop with wide eyes as your jaw went slack “you better not be fucking with me E.” you warned as the boy reached out to grab your hands with a smile lingering on his face.

Before either of your could wait for wind to push you two together you instead let fate do it “you gonna let me kiss you?” The hockey player asked as he smiled “fuck yeah.” You swore pushing yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him.

Over the next few months the relationship blossomed into the thing that became both of your missing pieces to the puzzle that was your lives. As you kept it to yourselves only letting images hinting to who your boyfriend could have been appear as they got sandwiched into your monthly dumps.

Quinn accepted that you’d eventually tell him who the boy was but what he didn’t think was that Jack and Luke would spend the days leading to the family trip to the lake house with a board guessing who your boyfriend could be.

The umich boys had been sworn to secrecy as you didn’t want to just tell Luke over the phone. Yet as you watched your brothers guide Ethan to the boat you wondered if maybe you should have told the boys sooner “they will play nice I’m sure of it.” Ellen could see the look of worry on her daughters face who could do nothing more than send her daughter a hopeful look that your mom was right.

But of course the Hughes brothers were fulfilling their brotherly duties as they stared down Ethan quickly bombarding him with questions about his intentions. Everything from if he saw himself being in a relationship for the long term with you to what he would do if you got pregnant. Any question they all seemed to not care that it was maybe a bit too far to be asking because as messed up as it seemed in essence they wanted to know if Ethan loved you enough to stay when they got scary.

Luke barely said a few words to his friend as he was still upset that Ethan could have gone behind his back to get with you. So as you helped Ellen start dinner Ethan was actually figuring out the quickest way to get off of the boat “you’re back!” The relieve in your voice was evident as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel and sped to the living room “baby?” You added furrowing your eyebrows as you saw Ethan with a frown on his face “we need to talk.” His hand wrapped into yours as he pulled you to the staircase.

You couldn’t help it as you turned around to send your brothers a glare who could do nothing more than smile “please tell me you boys didn’t do what I think you did.” Ellen sighed as she crossed her arms behind them. Ethan made your heart break as he began pulling his clothes back into his suitcase “could you just talk to me!” You complained making him frown as he stopped “your brothers hate me so it’s for the best if I go.” His words made you feel sick as you furrowed your brows.

Part of you wanted to grow defensive and irritated as the other part of you just hoped to wake up from whatever this was “I know they’re tough but you’re really going to leave because they asked you a couple of questions?” You knew what your brothers were like but you thought Ethan of all people would have survived it.

Your irritation quickly became his too “it wasn’t just a couple fucking questions.” Ethan spat shaking his head “look I love you but I’m not gonna sit here and have my every move questioned for the next two weeks.” Tears began to form in your waterline “maybe we should take a break.” His fingers brushed through his hair as he sighed.

It felt like your world was coming to an end as it dropped off of a ledge “god I thought you were gonna be good.” You didn’t mean to be as harsh as you were but seeing him so ready to leave was a punch to your gut “they’re just protective it’ll blow over!” Your fists clenched “look they are important to you and I think you need to spend time with them.” Ethan cupped your cheeks as he leaned forward to kiss your head.

Maybe you didn’t agree with his logic but you knew that it was only going to end in an argument and for that you kept your mouth shut “I’ll see you out then.” Ethan had to admit that he was partly hurt that you weren’t putting up a fight for him but if only he knew you were holding all of this back because you didn’t want to make this harder.

And you had a sneaky suspicion that your brothers were stood at the door.

As you watched the car roll down the drive you couldn’t help it as you turned to glare at the boys “could you not let me be happy?” You frowned as you looked at your brothers who sat on the couch.

Quinn was the first to shake his head “we are just making sure you’re safe.” He pointed out as Jack nodded “we know hockey players and we know you.” That comment enraged you as you scoffed crossing your arms “you boys don’t know shit!” You hated saying it but you had fallen away from your brothers as they all became NHL players.

You would never admit it but you felt left behind as their lives “last season you all managed to forget my birthday when I fucking share one with you!” You pointed at Luke making him slide further into his seat on the couch.

The boys weren’t proud of the fact that it took a call from Ellen to make them remember that it was the youngest Hughes kids birthday too “Ethan reminds me how to smile and how to be happy.” Tears streamed down your face as the boys finally realised how they had screwed up “y/n.” Quinn was the first to keep up wanting to apologise “just stay out of my way for the rest of summer please.” You were the one sibling who never got mad, Jack broke your toys more times than you could count as a kid but you never lashed out. Luke cut your hair once and all you did was laugh.

But here you were now in tears as you could barley look at your brothers as you pushed up the stairs to your room. Quinn looked down to his younger brothers “we fucked up.” He mumbled falling back into the couch “like big time.” He frowned thinking about how upset you had gotten.

It was clear that all of the boys hadn’t noticed how much they actually pushed away from their sister. With Luke being at school with you they didn’t need to make the effort, so when he went the gap in your life truly begun to show. You were always going to be supportive of them but it felt like you were losing your boys.

Jack led the trio to the door “where are you going?” Ellen furrowed her brows as she watched the boys slip on their shoes “someone has to go get y/n’s boy back for her.” Luke sighed agreeing with his brothers that they all took things too far with Ethan “Quinn is upstairs apologising to y/n.” He added motioning to the steps.

The Hughes boys had a plan.

#Ethan edwards imagines #Ethan edwards oneshots #ambers angst week #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #umich oneshot #umich imagines #amber writes fics

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catladyoftheyr · 2 months ago

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⚸ ཐི❤︎ཋྀ 𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ? ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ⚸

𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (18+ only, SMUT)

Summary: You suggest a game of hide and seek with a spooky adult twist to Gojo. He chases you through the woods and rails you. Multiple (7? Idk math) orgasms, Gojo being full of himself.

Authors note: idk what happened this was supposed to be short 😂 this took all day I hope it gets its flowers. Happy Halloween y’all!

Warnings/kinks: Primal/prey, dom/sub, bdsm technically, handcuffs, gagged with panties/tape, possessiveness, slapping (just once,) overstimulation, spitting in mouth, pussy eating, no condom, breeding/impreg kink, alcohol mention/use

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

Gojo had laughed when you told him you wanted to play hide and seek. He’d swiftly changed his tune when you explained it meant he got to chase you through the woods in a tiny red dress and cape. He’d dug through his closest for a flannel and bought fangs and ears from the costume store, saying he had to “commit to the bit”. You didn’t complain because he did look incredibly sexy.

You’d driven to the woods and found a remote trail and clearing. Gojo leaned casually on the hood of his car, the stick of a sucker poking out from between his lips. It was a chilly October night, and your costume did nothing to stop the cold air. He eyed you up and down slowly, admiring the view like he hadn’t watched you get dressed and driven you here. He pulled a small flask from his pocket and offered it to you. “Liquid courage. And it’ll help you warm up” he remarked with a smirk.

You took the flask and gulped. Tequila. The familiar warmth spread through you, flushing your cheeks. You felt a flutter in both your stomach and between your legs as well. You handed the now empty flask back and gave him a quick kiss. Time to go over the rules once more.

No phones when the chase started. You’d carry long range walkie talkies for emergency communications.

You were both allowed to carry a flashlight

You had a 20 minute head start to run and hide.

Once your time was up, Gojo was free to track you down however he wanted.

If you got caught, you could try and run but he could chase

The Big Bad Wolf got to have his way with Little Red once he catches her.

Gojo set the timer on his phone and flashed it to you once he pressed start. “Better start running, Little Red. Because once I catch you I’m gonna eat you with these big teeth I have.” His voice was low and already thick with lust. He pulled up his glasses to wink at you and you took off without looking back.

Your flashlight beam bounced erratically as you ran. Gojo’s variety of abilities gave him a huge advantage over you, a girl in a slutty costume running through the forest in converse. You wanted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible before you even considered a hiding spot. Twigs snapped under your feet and leaves crunched. You kept going straight until you found a fork in the path. You paused to catch your breath and examine the choices.

Left seemed to stay flat, and looked fairly clear of obstacles. Right lead slightly downhill and you could see rocks and Low branches poking out from the sides of the trail. Going left was definitely the easier option, but you banked right and set off again. You hoped that Gojo would see the difficulties on the right path and assume you went left, buying more time. You’d had to slow to a brisk jog to avoid snapping an ankle on a tree root. You shined your flashlight back snd forth to try and illuminate the path ahead. There was still nowhere to hide that he wouldn’t immediately be able to find you. The point of the game was to get caught of course, but you were still hoping to make him put in a moderate effort before he got to tear your clothes off in the forest.

You slowed down as you came to a spot with a bunch of large bushes. You shined your flashlight on the plants and tried to find an opening so you didn’t have to climb. You saw a small spot near the ground where the bushes parted just enough for a person to squeeze through. You took a deep breath and sighed with determination before getting down on your stomach. The opening was so low that you’d have to army crawl your way in. The ground was rough, and you couldn’t see much with the flashlight clenched between one of your fists. Weeds and undergrowth snagged on your costume as you wriggled under the bush. You winced as unseen thorns caught your legs and shredded your tights, surely pricking your skin as well.

You had no idea how much time had passed since the countdown had started. You flipped off the flashlight and tried to quiet your breath. You could hear leaves and twigs rustle but nothing heavy enough to be human footsteps. At least that’s what you thought until you heard the steps right in front of your hiding spot.

“Oh where oh where could Little Red be?” A voice called out with false curiosity. Shit. You held your breath and tried to lie perfectly still. Part of you hoped he’d move on and give you another chance, but another part was pulsing with anticipation that you’d be caught. You yelped when a flashlight beam illuminated you from above. “Found you,” Gojo chuckled. His white hair almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. His glasses sat in perfect contrast to his pale skin, and his wolf ears were still upright. Not a hair was out of place on him. Meanwhile your tights had runs and tears in every direction, there were definitely leaves in your hair, you had dirt all over you, and you were pretty sure you’d skinned your knees crawling into this bush.

His tall figure loomed over the hedge and he stared down at you with a grin. “I really thought you’d find a better hiding place, babe. Really. It was almost too easy” he was clearly bragging to get a rise out of you.

“Well if you want to try harder you can turn around and I’ll start running again. I’ll climb a tree or something this time” you shot back, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Nah. Not a chance, sweetheart.” Gojo leaned down and scooped you off the ground with ease. “You had your fun. Now it’s my turn.” He slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began to walk down a side path you hadn’t seen.

“Put me down!” You shrieked playfully as the sorcerer strolled toward his destination. The way he carried you made it seem like you weighed nothing. You kicked and wiggled lightly, pretending to put up a fight. Soon you saw a small clearing where he’d spread a blanket on the ground. His backpack was next to it, and there was a handheld camping lantern on the ground as well.

He set you down on the blanket and looked you in the eyes as he spoke. “Don’t you dare run off. Sit right here or I’ll make sure you regret it.” His voice had an icy edge that told you he wasn’t kidding anymore. Your heart fluttered and you swore your clit had gained a heartbeat as the mood suddenly shifted. He dug around in his bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a roll of duct tape. Your eyes widened.

“You were so easy to catch, Little Red. This big bad wolf is gonna have a lot of fun ruining you tonight.” His voice was dripping with lust and you could already see the outline of his cock through his jeans. Her dangled the handcuffs in front of your face “arms up, Red.” You lifted your arms and felt the cuffs click into place. The cold steel sent a chill down your spine. He pushed you softly onto your back on the blanket. Gojo lifted the skirt of your costume and pushed it up to your waist.

“Spread your legs for me” he commanded. You obliged and he smiled. He ran his palm over your sex and began to grind his hand against you. You whimpered at the touch. “Such a good girl. You’re already soaked through your tights, baby. They’re really getting in my way though.” You gasped as Gojo tore a large hole in the crotch of your tights. The fabric gave way with ease and left your panties exposed. He continued to tear at the stockings until they exposed your whole lower half, only shreds remaining hanging from the waist band.

“Now that’s more like it. And such pretty panties too” he cooed over you. You’d worn a black cotton thong with lace edges and a tiny rosette on the waistband. You hoped he wasn’t going to rip those in half as well, they were one of your favorites. Instead he pushed them to the side, trailing his long fingers up and down your slit. “You’re already so wet. All that running and hiding really turned you on, huh?”

You nodded, suddenly speechless. Gojo dipped his thumb between your folds and circled your clit lightly. You moaned as traced the sensitive nub; it felt good, but his touch was far too light to give you any serious pleasure. He continued to tread lightly and make sure to give just enough to keep you whimpering underneath him. This kept on for what seemed like ages when he suddenly dipped two fingers inside your entrance. He began to pump them in and out of you at a steady pace.

“Fuck, Go. Don’t stop” you moaned. He kept his fingers moving while his other hand clamped down over your mouth.

“Good girls are seen and not heard” he murmured. He pumped faster and added another finger. You moaned into his hand and arched your back. You felt an orgasm began to well in your core. You croaked out muffled pleases into your lovers palm. Your pleasure was getting stronger and you were desperate for release. He let this thumb rub your clit again but with firmness this time. A few more circles of his thumb was all it took for your orgasm to break through you. You cried out and accidentally bit down on Gojo’s hand as you came. The waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Gojo snapped his hand away as you began to come down. “You fucking bit me!” He cried out, shaking his hand. “You’re gonna regret that” he remarked. His hands hooked the waist band of your panties and yanked them down your legs. He balled them up in his fist as if to toss them aside. Instead his other hand gripped your jawline and squished your cheeks. “Open your fucking mouth” he barked. You obliged and he stuffed your soaked panties into your mouth. He grabbed the duct tape and ripped off a strip, placing it firmly over your mouth. You tried to make words but the fabric in your mouth jumbled anything you had to say into nonsense.

He still held your face in one hand. He locked eyes with you before shocking you with a firm slap. He had a devilish grin on your face and you felt the pulsing in between your legs get stronger. The sting of the impact send pleasure down your spine. “Be a good girl for me” he murmured in your ear before nipping at it. He continued to nip and nipple at your jaw and neck, seeming to lay claim to his territory like the wolf he was.

Before long he was fingering you again with renewed vigor. The way we moved his hands told you he was a man on a mission. You could feel a second orgasm building up already, his fingers pumping out of you relentlessly. “Cum for me again, baby. I know you can.” He circled your clit firmly and coaxed orgasm number 2 out of you as you cried out behind your gag. “That’s it. Such a good girl. How many more of those do you think you have in you? 4? Maybe 5?”

You suddenly realized what he’d meant when he told you that you’d regret the bite. He was planning on making you cum as many times as he could until he’d completely overstimulated you. He finger blasted you to orgasm number 3 in record time, bringing tears to your eyes.

While you were on the come down from your third back to back orgasm, Gojo had started unbuttoning his jeans. He pulled down his jeans and boxers in fell swoop, the fabric stopping around his knees. His cock sprang free, its full length completely available. Gojo stroked his lengthy cock as he stood over you. You lay on the ground, knees apart, arms cuffed above your head, gagged with your own panties and duct tape.

He rubbed his tip against your entrance, lubricating himself with your wetness. He pushed in slowly with a deep groan, leaning over you and gripping your hips. “Fuck, baby you’re so tight.”

Once his hips hit yours he sat there for a moment, savoring the sensation for both of you. He pulled back and slammed into you this time, starting a fast paced rhythm. He grunted as he pumped into you and his nails dug into your hips. “This pussy belongs to me, got it?”

You moaned into your gag and nodded, feeling orgasm number 4 start to bubble as he fucked into you ferociously. You came on his cock and shuddered as pleasure racked through your body again. Gojo didn’t stop, instead groaning loudly as he pulled your legs onto his shoulders. He kept fucking you, his cock stretching you out with every thrust. “God your cunt is so wet, Little Red. So fucking horny for the Big Bad Wolf. So desperate to get fucked like a slut in the woods.” He was practically purring as he pounded you.

He slowed his pace to fumble for the keys he’d stuffed in his pocket, but even as he was uncuffing you he never actually slipped out, instead pulling you closer to keep you stuffed full while he worked. He tossed the cuffs aside and you flexed your arms. He stayed in you when he pulled the duct tape off and dislodged the underwear from your mouth. You were panting, feeling yet another orgasm starting to form. His hips thrust expertly, hitting your g-spot every time he pressed his hips against you. A fifth orgasm ripped through you and Gojo groaned as he felt you clench down around his cock.

“S-too much, Go” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head. “I can’t keep cumming.”

“Nonsense, baby. I know you’ve got another one in you. I love seeing you cum on this cock. Be a good slut for me.” Gojo was biting on your neck and whispering in your ears. You could hardly form a coherent thought, drunk on the feeling of your lovers cock throbbing inside of you. He looked you in the eyes and gripped your face, spitting in your mouth. “Swallow, baby” you followed his order obediently. “Good girl,” he purred. “You like this fucking cock, huh? No one can fuck you better than me. Tell me I’m the greatest dick you’ve ever had.”

“You’re the best! Ah, fuck!” You weren’t lying. Gojo was the best sex you’d ever had. No one even came close to the way he made you feel.

Gojo could feel himself getting close to cumming, but wanted to last just a little longer. He slowed his strokes down, making his pace leisurely and deliberate. It still wasn’t working. He pulled out, opting to drag your pussy to meet his face. He latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with vigor. You wrapped your legs around his head, burying his face in your cunt. He continued to work his magic, the sensitive bud in his mouth throbbing with pleasure.

“Ah! I’m gonna! Gonna cu-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as a sixth orgasm took over you. Gojo didn’t stop lapping as you came, sticking his tongue in your entrance to make sure he caught everything. Your legs were shaking at this point and your brain felt like it was melting. You’d never cum this many times in one sitting. The pleasure was otherworldly, but there was no time to breathe before Gojo was coaxing another one from you.

He looked up at you and grinned wide. “Fuck you taste so good, babe.” He lowered your legs and hips and then promptly flipped you onto your stomach. He grabbed your hips to meet his and plunged his cock into you again.

“Ah! Fuck, Gojo! Feels-sgood” you slurred, cock drunk.

“That’s what I like to hear” he growled, slamming your hips together. His pace was fast, relentless, almost aggressive. “You take me so well. Such a good slut. Who’s this pussy belong to?”

“You! It’s yours!”

“Damn right. I’m gonna make you mine forever. Gonna knock you up tonight, Red. You’ll look so fuckin’ pretty carrying my kids. Then everyone will know who you belong to.” Gojo moaned one last time as he held you against him. His cock twitched and you felt him flood inside of you. Hot cum filled you until you felt it start to drip down your thigh. The feeling of him cumming inside of you, and the thought of him breeding you sent you reeling into your seventh, and final, orgasm of the night. You panted and collapsed onto the blanket as Gojo pulled out.

“You did so good tonight, baby. I love you so much. Let’s clean up and go home, you deserve a hot bath.” Gojo murmured into your ear as he helped you up.

#my writing #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #Jjk Gojo #Jjk men #Jjk writer #jujutsu kaisen

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megs-98 · 5 months ago

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An Understanding

"You have a good heart, little one. One that I admire very much. It takes a special person to do everything that you have done, please don’t forget that.”

A/N: LOL i was big in my emotions the other day and i guess i just needed to hear a pep talk from halsin so i wrote a drabble. i think i'm gonna keep doing one shots of halsin and my tav mara and seeing how their relationship evolves

Characters: Halsin, f!named Tav (Mara)

Tags: Thoughts and talk of low self confidence, depiction of smoking, the slightest mention of death, halsin being a reassuring sweetheart

Word count: 1.6k

Mara sat with her back on a rock along the riverbank; her wet hair hung in her face as she brought her knees to her chest. An attempt to shrink into herself. Her mind replayed the last weeks over and over. The nautiloid, meeting all of her new friends, the battles they endured both physically and mentally. Mara hadn’t known her companions very long but she felt an obligation to help them through their personal journeys as they were more than ready to help her with finding a solution to the illithid tadpoles.

She felt as her eyes started to burn, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes as she learned her head back and took a deep breath. Mara was no stranger to difficult situations; being a former paladin of Ilmater that wandered Baldur’s Gate and the surrounding areas, she had seen, and helped with, various conflicts. The situation she found herself in now, though, was not something she ever thought would happen. The little that she had learned about each of her companions, Mara knew that they were all plagued by unfair and unjust circumstances for far too long and she devoted herself to helping them as they found their way back to Baldur’s Gate. Her chest felt heavier and heavier with every thought; how was she supposed to lead a ragtag team to save themselves with no real answers or guidance. She felt less confident with herself as she truly thought about the situation at hand.

Mara felt a hot tear descend down her nose and past her lips as it trailed her cheek, another one followed the same path soon after; then one after another. She put a hand on her forehead as she stared into her lap and watched the tears fall off her face, an occasional sniffle breaking the silence that surrounded her.

“Unbelievable.” She said to herself with a laugh as she combed her fingers through her hair, “I’ve helped children in poverty, fought people after they tried to discriminate against other drow and tieflings and orcs. I’ve devoted myself to helping those who are oppressed and suffering. I have had divine intervention guide me to what is right and wrong. I can do this…” The last sentence sounded like a question even to Mara.

“Those are all quite impressive feats, little one.” Mara quickly turned around, sat on her knees, to see who was talking to her. To her relief it was Halsin, the archdruid who asked to accompany her and the others to the Shadow Cursed lands. “I do apologize if I disturbed you, that was not my intention, nor was eavesdropping.” He gave her a small smile as he swung a leg over a felled tree that laid close to Mara.

Mara rose to her feet and quickly wiped her face dry as she shook her head. “No! No, you’re fine, Halsin. I was just thinking out loud, I guess.” She said as she gathered her items. Halsin gave her a hum of acknowledgement as she straightened herself out and walked close to him.

“I should probably head back to camp anyways. I’m sure you would appreciate some privacy for whatever you need to do.” Mara gave him a weary smile as she took a few steps to leave.

“Why don’t you join me? For just a moment, I won’t keep you long.” Halsin said from behind her, more assertive than she had heard him before.

Mara stilled herself as she took a deep breath. She knew Halsin was wiser than her, perhaps he could offer advice. With a turn on her heel, Mara walked back to the tree Halsin was perched on and took a seat next to him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, Mara unsure of what to say while Halsin admired the moonlight that reflected in the soft waves of the water.

The wood elf moved first as he retrieved his pipe out of a satchel along with a small bag of crushed herbs. He held the pipe out to Mara for her to hold. Once she had it in her hands, she inspected the delicate instrument; it was handmade of oak with an earthy oil used as the varnish. She could see every line in the wood as she held it against the moonlight. The lightsource was soon interrupted as Halsin maneuvered her hands so the bowl of the pipe was closer to him. She watched as his calloused, but dexterous hands gently grabbed pinch after pinch of herbs from the small pouch and packed the bowl tight.

He grabbed a match and gestured for Mara to place the pipe in her mouth, “It would be terribly rude of me if I didn’t offer you the first toke. And do not fret, it’s just herbs to help calm the mind and body, it helps with sleep as well.” He said with a warm smile. “Oh, uh, thank you, Halsin. But I don’t really smo-” Mara’s sentence was cut off as Halsin lit the match and held it close to the bowl. Mara thought of Halsin’s words for a moment, a calming agent would be useful for her. She placed her lips around the stem of the pipe and inhaled a few seconds too long. Her arm shot out as she shoved the pipe back into Halsin’s hands while a fierce cough took over her body. A rumble of laughter erupted from Halsin as he gave Mara his waterskin and rubbed her back trying to help her regain her breath.

“Well I do hope you’re able to sleep well tonight. I suppose I should have warned you to take a small inhale if you are not accustomed to smoking.” Halsin said as he calmed his laughter and watched as Mara wiped the tears from her face and caught a glimpse of her eye roll as she drank from his water. “I did want to speak to you though, little one. What has you alone and upset on this particular night?” He asked as his gaze softened when he met Mara’s eyes.

Mara quickly dropped her eyes to her hands and kept her eyes trained on her fingers that picked at her cuticles. “It’s nothing, really. I think I’m just tired.” She said with a sigh. She could feel Halsin’s eyes on her as he looked at her, hoping for more of an answer. As much as she disliked it, Mara knew she needed to speak her feelings or else they would continue to worsen, jeopardizing herself and the others. “I think,” she paused as her voice wavered, “that I’ve been tired for a while. Everything I do, everything that I have almost always done, is to make others happy. If I think I’m doing the right thing, someone is upset. If I try to make that person happy, someone else is upset. I did what I thought was going to protect myself and the others and I broke my oath to Ilmater; thus becoming an oathbreaker paladin.” Halsin placed a hand over one of hers as she took a shaky breath, her lip quivered as she tried to calm her emotions. “I don’t know how, or why, I became the leader of our group, but I’m losing more and more faith in myself as the days go by. I don't think that I can keep everyone safe. I just… I just don’t know what to do, Halsin.” She felt the tears again as they flowed from her eyes.

Halsin moved closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze before he grabbed her hands in his. “Thank you, Mara. Truly. It is hard to discuss one’s feelings and I’m honored you trust me enough to do so.” He kept his eyes trained on her and gently brought his hand to her cheek, guiding her face to look at him and tucked a loose strand behind her ear as she finally looked at him. “I do have an understanding of what you say. After losing many druids to the fight of the Shadow Cursed lands 100 years ago and then becoming the archdruid at the Emerald Grove, I did not think I had any right to be a leader again.” Mara noticed as his shoulders slumped forward slightly and solemn light found its way to his eyes.

“I was worried that I would let everyone down again, or worse yet, do something that caused them injury or death. I was worried that my past mistakes would cause others to distrust me and cast me out.” He paused as he looked out at the river, “The exact opposite happened, actually.” Halsin said with a small smile. “They trusted my judgment and offered guidance when I asked for it. Not everyone always agreed with my actions, but they trusted that I had the grove’s best interest at heart.” Mara looked at Halsin as he spoke, her eyes a bit wide at the vulnerability on display in front of her. He turned his body so he was facing her again.

“All of that to say… you’re doing a good job, Mara. You cannot possibly please every person you are around, but it is evident that you are careful with your choices, keeping everyone’s safety and wellbeing at the forefront of your mind. All while also helping most everyone you come across as well. You have a good heart, little one. One that I admire very much. It takes a special person to do everything that you have done, please don’t forget that.”

Mara felt as her eyes got hot again, another lump forming in her throat. Before she could start crying again she pulled the druid in for a hug.

“Thank you, Halsin. I will do my best to remember your kind words.” She said before they sat close together in silence again and watched as the fireflies danced through the grass and into the night sky.

#bg3 #fanfic #halsin x oc #halsin silverbough #halsin x tav

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snootflake · 1 year ago

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“Don’t listen to this guy. He’s trying to lead you down the path of righteousness. I’m gonna lead you down the path that ROCKS.”

—-

Inspired by this YouTube video from Sendarya

#it’s right there #jimbo the himbo #i had to #shitpost #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #the emperor’s new groove #good omens fanart

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goo-goo-for-goggins · 5 months ago

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Roundabout Path

part i || ao3

Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

warnings: MDNI, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms

not proofread, pwp

•_•_•_•_•_•

Lucy takes in a shaky breath right before Cooper kisses the corner of her mouth, a teasing touch that makes her whole body thrum with awareness. His hand grips her jaw, thumb guiding her chin upwards so he can slot their mouths more firmly together. A hot spark of arousal floods her veins and she brings her hands up to dig into his shoulders.

She’d forgotten how much she loved being kissed. It opens up a ravenous pit of want inside her chest. Hands scrabbling for purchase against the nape of his neck, Lucy kisses him harder, messier. It leaves him groaning into her mouth as she eagerly takes.

Cooper presses one last chaste kiss to her lips, teeth nipping her bottom one as he pulls away.

“How he can promise you to another is somethin’ that needs studied,” his hazel eyes are nearly swallowed up by their pupils.

“Well, I can promise you’re the first,” Lucy whispers, body alight in a way she’s never felt before.

“And only, if I have my way,” he bends down and sweeps her legs up with one arm as the other braces her upper back.

She feels like a heroin in one of those silly romance novels Chet always leaves lying around. Butterflies swarm in her chest, absolutely smitten by this man and the deference he’s shown her in the short span of time they’ve spent in each other’s company. She’s never felt this way before. If it weren’t for her father’s machinations, maybe she would’ve had someone like him to begin with instead of her current husband.

The ring on her finger’s like a lead weight—Monty always dragging her down when all she wants is to tread water.

Ignoring her maudlin thoughts, she brings herself back to the present, to the handsome man in the here and now. Cooper carries her over to the bed with Lucy stifling a giddy laugh wanting to break free. Dropping her down onto the sheets, she does laugh up at him as he climbs on top of her, arms caging her in place. She wraps her hands around his neck and tries to tug him in for another kiss.

“If I was a better man, I wouldn’t be lettin’ such a pretty girl get herself into this kinda mess,” he leans down and kisses the shell of her ear, trailing his lips across her jaw.

“Please, Cooper,” she whispers in the scant space between them. “Make me feel good.”

He noses down her check to kiss the corner of her lips, “I will, sweetheart.”

Tears prick her eyelids at the soft kisses he presses into her throat before dragging his lips back up to her mouth. He kisses her gently as if she’ll pull away which is the furthest thing from her mind. Skin buzzing with need, she kisses him sloppily, licking past his lips to taste him. He groans and it sends frissons of heat to pool in her abdomen. Arching her back, she whines into Cooper’s mouth.

“You’re makin’ it hard t’be sweet,” he bites her bottom lip hard enough to sting.

“Who said I wanted sweet?” she rocks her hips up, dress sliding with the movement until she can feel his slacks brushing the sensitive skin of her thighs.

He gives her a crooked grin, crows feet deepening at the corners of his eyes, “Well now, can’t say I never give a lady what she wants.”

“Then, does that mean I get to keep you?”

The words slip from her mouth and leave a taut silence in their wake. Flushing in embarrassment, Lucy feels the blood rush to her cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“S’okay,” he smooths her hair away from her face, “it’d be my pleasure, Lucy.”

She sighs into the heated kiss he presses to her swollen lips. His right hand slides along her arm until he grasps her wrist. Pulling back just far enough, he gently eases her wedding ring from her finger to drop it onto the night stand nearest the bed.

“Let me give you what you need, sweetness,” he kisses her next then drags his teeth against her smooth skin. “Gonna make you all mine.”

Red hot arousal blazes through her body making her toes tingle, the heat curling in her veins and making her clit throb like a second heartbeat.

“Please,” she whimpers, nails scratching at his shoulders.

With a low chuckle that has her pulse spiking again, he raises up enough to shed his clothes until he’s left only in his briefs. Lucy hums, wide eyes greedily taking in his tapered waist and toned chest.

“Your turn, darlin’,” he grins, eyes warm as they watch her quickly shimmy out of her dress.

She unclasps her bra and a punched out groan leaves his throat once her breasts spill out from the cups. Lucy preens as Cooper’s eyes rove over her body, not able to stay on any one spot.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, dipping down to kiss her. “I’m one lucky sonuvabitch.”

“Cooper,” she pants, “please.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I gotcha,” he rasps out, hazel eyes hot and heavy as they look back up into her face.

She cups his face with a shy smile and he tugs her hand to his mouth to kiss the palm. He shifts to kneel between her legs, fingers tugging her panties down until he can slip them off. Dropping them over the side of the bed, he runs his hands along her calves up to her thighs to press them open.

“Gonna eat this sweet little cunt,” he grins, bending down to drop kisses along her belly and hips, “sound good?”

“Yes,” she whispers, breath hitching when he kisses closer and closer to her mound and swollen clit. She tangles her fingers in the sheets to stop herself from grabbing at him.

Her legs kick out with a low whine as he licks into her soaked cunt. Groaning, the vibrations of Cooper’s mouth make her clit ache as he slides his tongue deeper into her clenching heat. His arms shift so he can use his elbows to hold her thighs down; then, he uses one hand to spread her open while the other pulls back the hood of her clit.

Lucy meets his gaze right as he spits right onto her sensitive clit, his tongue quickly following after to smear his saliva into the pudgy bud. Whining, her hips writhe against the sheets and he only chuckles, licking and suckling at her slippery clit. His eyes never leave her face, soft hazel now a thin ring around his expanded pupils.

She can’t breathe it feels so good. It’s like a fever dream that she never wants to wake up from—

Her back bows off the bed as Cooper grinds his face into her cunt, mouth greedily licking the slick dripping from her pussy. The rough feel of his stubble has her mewling, trying to rock down against his mouth. Cooper hums and kisses her soaked folds, rubbing his nose along her clit as he slips his tongue back into her clenching hole.

He flattens his tongue and licks a broad stripe up her slit before gently presseing his middle and ring finger into her wet hole, sliding in deep and curling forward. He finds the spongy spot at the front of her cunt and rubs his fingertips across it. Lucy moans, a high reedy noise, as she tosses her head back in pleasure.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart,” his voice rumbles.

“Feels so good,” she whimpers, head rocking back and forth on the pillow.

Cooper presses against her g-spot as he licks and kisses her swollen clit, suckling the sensitive bud until Lucy’s tangling her fingers into his hair to pull him away.

“I’m so close,” she pants and he grinds against the spongy spot that has her gushing around his fingers.

“Whatdya need?” His fingers pump in and out of her pussy while he uses his thumb to rub against her clit.

“Kiss me,” she mewls, “w’nna kiss, please, Cooper.”

His hand pauses long enough for him to shift back up her body, his free arm bracing himself as he kisses her, smearing her own slick across her lips. Lucy keens into his mouth when he picks up where he left off, cunt clenching around his fingers as he works them inside her soft, wet heat. Hips arching, her orgasm washes over her, toes curling in the sheets as Cooper works her through it.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing her jaw. “God, you feel so good, sweetheart. Can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock.”

Lucy whines and pulls him in for another kiss, tongue sloppily licking into his mouth. She can feel him smiling against her lips, and it makes her ache to have him even closer.

“Gonna have t’let me have my fingers back if you want me to make you feel even better,” he teases, trying to ease his fingers from her cunt as her walls grip them tighter. The digits leave her pussy with a wet schlick that has Lucy blushing.

He sucks his fingers with a groan, eyes fluttering at the taste of her on his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he slips his hand away to pull her in for another heated kiss.

Lucy nips his bottom lip and reaches down to tug on his briefs, “These have to go.”

He pulls back with a laugh, “Alrighty.”

Lucy watches unabashedly as Cooper pushes his underwear down and kicks them off before settling back between her spread thighs. Taking in his full, uncut cock dripping with precum, she lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh, wow,” she swipes her tongue across her bottom lip.

He grins at her, taking his cock in hand to stroke it, “S’okay?”

“More than okay,” she nods quickly, hands reaching out to grab at his biceps, nails scratching the skin. Using one arm to brace himself over her body, Cooper slaps his dick against her pussy and she digs her nails into the muscles of his arms.

“G’nna scratch me up, sweetheart,” he noses along her hairline before kissing her cheek. “I like it.”

She moans shakily and rocks her hips, trying to grind his cock against her slit. He grasps the base of his dick and rubs his cock along her slick pussy, drippy tip bumping against her clit. He taps the head on her swollen bundle of nerves before sliding back through her wet folds, teasingly slipping the tip of his cock into her clenching hole.

He stops himself and begins to pull away, “Lemme grab a condom—“

“Don’t,” she cuts in, “you can—without one.”

“Y’sure ’bout this?” He asks quietly. “I mean I’m all f’r stuffing this pretty lit’le pussy with my cum, but—“

She cuts him off by sliding her hands up into his hair and pulling. “I know what I want, Cooper.”

“Fuck, Lucy, okay,” he hisses, pressing the head of his cock inside her cunt, slowly fucking himself into her fluttering walls.

His fat cock spreads open her dripping hole, making them both moan loudly. Whining, she drops her hands down to his bare shoulders, dragging her fingertips across his skin. As he slowly works his cock deeper inside her, he cages her in with both arms placed on either side of her head. Lucy’s nails dig into his back and he drops scorching kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

“I gotcha, honey,” he mutters against her skin making it tingle. Lucy wishes it were true for more than just this moment between them.

Cooper moves one hand down to drag his fingers across the swell of her breasts. He circles her nipple, hand cupping one breast to brush his thumb against the slowly hardening bud. Lucy whines and he tugs her nipples gently, softly tweaking them before soothing them with slow drags of his index fingers.

“Doin’ so good for me, Lucy,” he rasps. “Takin’ me so deep, pussy’s a perfect fuckin’ fit.”

She cries out, body rocking down to make his cock sink deeper into her pulsing cunt. Cooper presses kisses into her skin wherever he can reach. His pelvis presses flush to her own, cock snugly buried in her fluttering walls. She gasps breathlessly, feeling his tip kiss the opening to her cervix. That pleasure pain skitters down her spine to pool in her core.

“So good,” she tries to think around the fog of arousal blanketing her thoughts. “God, Cooper, you’re so deep. Feels so good.”

“Fuckin’ hell, me too, sweetheart,” he grunts in her ear. “‘m g’nna move, okay?”

She mewls softly, “Yeah, yeah, please, Cooper.”

“So goddamn tight,” he slurs in her neck, lips brushing the skin to send goosebumps racing across her body. He rocks in and out of her pussy, bottoming out on each slow thrust as her walls pull him in greedily.

Cooper pulls halfway out and eases himself back in, a slow steady motion, letting Lucy adjust to the stretch of his cock. She shudders and pants leading him to press his mouth to her’s, messy open mouthed kisses that makes her buck her hips. They lose themselves to each other as he slowly takes her apart under his tongue and pistoning hips. His hand slips between their bodies, thumb rubbing firm circles on her clit.

Lucy’s overwhelmed in the best way by the sensations Cooper draws out of her body. He shifts and the new angle has his thick length brushing across the spongy spot at the front of her pussy, drippy tip kissing her cervix just right; the blistering pleasure sweeping through her leaves her gasping for air.

Kissing the whines from her lips, his thumb rubs her swollen clit over and over, her hips thrashing—undecided on whether to press into his hand or away.

“I’m gonna cum again,” Lucy whimpers, tears beading her lash line from the arousal pulsing heavy in her veins.

“Fuck,” he humps her pussy harder, “yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock, like a good girl?”

“Yes, god, want that,” her hands grasp onto his shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood as the heat in her belly grows even hotter.

“‘M pretty close, too, sweetheart,” he grits out.

“Inside me, please?” Her wet eyes turn pleading.

He thrusts harder insider her squelching pussy, “Y’sure, darlin’? I shouldn’t. I should prob’ly pull out, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head so hard it sends her dark hair flying, “Want it. Please, Cooper,” she whines. “You said you always give a lady what she wants.”

“Mmm, I did say that didn’t I?” His strained laugh ends in a groan. “Yeah, I’ll cum in you, sweetheart. I’ll give you everything I can.”

“Thank you, Cooper, thank you,” she chants.

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me,” he gasps, almost sounding pained, “fuck.”

She clenches around him as he shudders, pumping his hips harder against her.

“C’mon, Lucy, cum for me,” he croons, “let me feel that sweet cunt squeeze my cock.”

With those words in her ears, she arches into him, stars exploding behind her eyelids as her second orgasm of the night assails her body. She whimpers, walls clenching and milking his thick length while her body shudders underneath him. Cooper grunts, cock throbbing as he bullies himself into her spasming cunt. Her orgasm doesn’t wane as he fucks her through it, pussy pulsing and fluttering around his dick.

“Please, Cooper, I want it,” she tilts her head up to watch his face.

With a stifled shout, he pushes as deep into her cunt as possible, cum spurting from his tip as rope after rope of hot, sticky cum fills her pussy. Lucy gasps at the feeling, whining softly at the fact he’s cumming inside her. He kisses her, slowly rutting against the apex of her thighs, his thick spend dripping out from around his cock, where it’s still buried in her cunt.

After a few lingering kisses, he pulls himself out with a low hiss. Lucy sighs, a gratified little sound that has Cooper smiling at her, boyishly sweet.

“Sorry about the mess darlin’, how ‘bout I clean it up for ya.”

All the breath whooshes out of her lungs when Cooper slips down her body to press a kiss to her mound. Dipping his head down, he slowly licks into her swollen cunt. Lucy’s fingers tangle in his hair as he sloppily eats the cream colored slick from her overstimulated pussy. He eats her out until she’s cumming for a third time, voice breaking and body thrashing as it crests. Slick coats his mouth when he pulls away with one last kiss to her clit.

“Such a good girl,” he praises with a soft pat to her thighs. “Now, we both need cleaned up.”

He steps away from the bed to disappear into the en suite bathroom. Coming back with a damp flannel, he helps clean up the mix of cum, slick, and spit leaking from between her thighs. Cooper takes it back to the bathroom and returns with a towel, patting her skin dry before dropping it next to the bed. She sleepily tries to tug him down with her, but he chuckles and dodges her attempts so he can strip the comforter off, letting them both lay in clean sheets.

Once he lays down next to her, she’s snuggling up underneath his chin, pressing her face to his throat.

“I don’t wanna leave,” she whispers.

“Then don’t,” he runs his hands down her back. “I’ll take care’a ya.”

“Monty won’t—“

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that worthless asshole. I’ll handle ‘em,” he growls and Lucy nuzzles against his neck, chest feeling warm at his low tone.

She runs her thumb across the bare skin of her ring finger before raising her head up to kiss Cooper’s chin.

“Okie dokie.”

#cooper howard x lucy maclean #cooper x lucy #cooper howard smut #ghoulcy #lucy maclean x cooper howard #lucy maclean smut #fallout tv show

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roomsofangel · 7 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE

synopsis you spent your entire childhood and teenage years being what your mother wanted you to be — and so when you finally strike a deal and made a bet with the woman, you are determined to prove her wrong and that your passion for art could be turned into a living if you just tried hard enough.

however, things might have just gotten harder when you cross paths with the lead vocalist of an uprising rock band who seems to be nothing but a charming thorn in your side

wc 2.0k

warnings not really any!

reblogs & comments are very appreciated and also help out a lot! thank you for reading and giving my work a chance ♥️

a gentle sense of dread filled your chest as you hastily packed up your paint-smudged supplies after the art class you insisted on taking to hopefully better your skills for your overflowing passion. your mother always claimed it was a waste of time, trying to get you to venture off into the field of medicine but you always told her to let you at least try.

so, while you carefully wrapped your brushes in their familiar protective cloth and shoved them into the depths of your bag, you tried to keep your unease at bay. you had a few months until you and your mother decided which route your life will take — whether painting and music would be the way your heart will go to make a living or if you had to snuff out your spark and do what she wanted. a deal just to get where you are now and an attempt to prove her wrong.

the smell of oil paint clung to your fingers despite several washes in the sink, and you made a mental note to bring some hand sanitizer next time. you glanced back at the canvas, half-finished but bursting with color. maybe you could add just a tiny bit more to the whites and the sides, the corners looked as if it needed more of a pop. you sighed, running your fingers through your hair, your muse was running thin and you didn’t have time to recharge it when you had plans with yeosang tonight.

and speak of him, he shall make himself known. without missing a beat, your phone buzzed in your pocket and you took it out to read the text he had sent

yeosangie: still coming tn? gonna be short staffed and i’d die without you!

you pressed your lips together, laughing lightly to yourself as you read his dramatic text. the plans in question were you helping him bartend an event the pub he worked at was having, a new rising rock band would be playing there tonight which meant more business. in a way, in hindsight, meant a good deal but being understaffed out of all days made you watch your best friend lose his mind even before getting there.

you didn’t have any mixology skills, hell, even making hot chocolate at times came out different and at times.. watery, you surely did not have any sort of touch that could make any pleasing but yeosang insisted and you’d be just taking down anything being asked for and serving while he did the mixing and preparing.

you: yes sangie, i’m still coming lmao don’t be so dramatic!

yeosangie: ugh i’m being realistic!

with another light laugh, you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got up, making sure you had all of your things before heading out of the building. it was sunny, having to use your hand to shield your eyes while you made your way to the parking lot. you could feel your phone buzz again, assuming it was yeosang again but you weren’t able to think twice of it when your arm bumped into another

“watch where you’re going,” the voice was a bit harsh, not glancing back to where you were. you turned to their direction, he seemed in a rush to get inside which made you scowl. of course you all had places to be, but why did he get a pass to be rude?

“asshole,” you muttered under your breath, not wanting to let the blonde stranger dampen your mood and continued the route to your car

“he could have been having a bad day.” yeosang suggested while leaned back against the glass door, watching how you paced back and forth. you paused your movements to point over at him, “i was too but you don’t see me going all,” you cleared your throat and shifted your body to mimick how the stranger was, “watch it,” letting your voice drop a few octaves

yeosang pressed his lips together, as if trying to stifle his laugh, “is that how it went?”

you deadpanned, looking at him, “thats beyond the point!” you then groaned

sure, you weren’t entirely an asshole, you would have understood if the stranger had a bad day. but dear lord, all of your understanding went out the window the second he opened his mouth and you were glad you’d never see him again. “what do i gotta help with tonight?” you decided to steer the conversation before you got yourself too fired up again

yeosang clicked his tongue, lifting himself off the door so he could get behind the bar, “help me serve them, simple.” he shrugged, “i underestimated because this place is gonna be packed.” he cringed

“who even is the band anyways?” you asked while bringing in a box of different liquors, huffing as soon as you set it down onto the countertop, dusting your hands off on your worn-out jeans

“halazia,” he replied with a shrug, “wooyoung’s new project,” he added in and you laughed a little

“another one?” you tilted your head

yeosang nods, “but this one actually pulled through.”

and you nodded back as a response. you knew wooyoung the same amount as you knew yeosang, the two were practically a two for one deal and wherever yeosang went, wooyoung followed. it wasn’t a surprise that yeosang found a way to have wooyoung’s new band to play here, part of you also felt proud of the fact after the many attempts, wooyoung finally achieved what he strived for.

yet, another part of you hated how jealously bubbled in your core. when was it your turn?

the club was alive with the sound of loud rock music that played, the walls were practically shaking with each booming note. you could feel the bass in your chest from where you were behind the bar, hurriedly serving drinks to customers that were definitely not making it easier. shit, you swore you had a few spilled on you and felt sticky.

yeosang helped pour shots and took majority of the drinks to make while the crowd was wild, jumping and moshing to the music, you could have sworn you saw a few stage divers and crowd surfers. the smell of sweat and alcohol was thick in the air, yeosang glanced over at you as he handed over a tray of shots. "you holding up okay?" he yelled over the music.

you nodded, a bead of sweat dripping down your forehead. "i’m managing!”

you didn’t get to see the band or say hello to wooyoung as you maybe hoped, and you doubted you’d be able to enjoy the music with how business was being. “i’m glad you’re here! i would have definitely died,” yeosang said as he let out a breath, moving past you with a tray of filled to the top shots to a group

“oh yeah, i guess you were being realistic after all,” you poked fun as you ran your hands through your hair, ruffling it a bit and wiping the sweat with the back of your hand after while you heard him give an ‘i told you so!’

as you continued on, you could hear the loud vocals that were hitting you in the chest — you managed to steal a few glances to the stage where you noticed the band certainly deserved the hype, wooyoung knew what he was doing this time, you assumed he learned from past mistakes. speaking of, there he was in all his glory playing the bass with his signature charming smile as he mouthed the lyrics and interacted with the crowd, drenched in sweat and water he poured on himself during the last song

but your eyes couldn’t stay on him, oh no, your sight kept falling onto the lead vocalist who played the bass and belted the lyrics, the vein in his neck showing just how much power he was pouring to the crowd. “who is that?” you voiced over the music, leaning towards yeosang who followed your gaze

“kim hongjoong,“ yeosang answered as he let out a breath, relieved to be able to rest for a moment. “only spoke with him a few times, closed off guy but powerful as fuck on stage.”

you nodded as you let your gaze linger back to him, how free and at home he looked as he sang, “this is a wasteland, my only retreat.. with heaven above you, there’s hell over me.”

you couldn’t remember how the rest of the night went, most of it was a blur when you began helping yeosang pack up, “so how was that?” he amused, zipping up his bag as he glanced up at you

humming, you let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against the wall, “it was.. something.” you folded your arms over your chest, “we’re just waiting for wooyoung now, huh?”

and yeosang replies in a nod, “as usual.”

as if his name was a summoning ritual, wooyoung’s loud laugh became more prominent from the back, and there he was walking in with three others — one being the blonde you found yourself drawn to more than you’d want to admit

“ah, there’s my favorite artist!” wooyoung beamed as he ran over, leaving the three behind to rush over to you with his arms out

“hey woo,” you greeted with a smile as you let him engulf you in the tightest hug, the smell of his cologne suffocating your nose, it was safe to say he drenched himself after the show and you could see he was still lightly glazed with sweat. “alright! off! you’re still sweaty,” you exaggerated while giving him a tiny shove

wooyoung replied with a laugh and dragged out whine, “a little sweat never hurt anyone,” he huffed before ruffling your hair

“oh, yeah guys this is seonghwa and mingi,” wooyoung first introduced the two that caught up, seonghwa having some of his hair up and the rest down, his hair strands more pulled out at the front to frame his face, he certainly rocked that choker better than anyone you knew while mingi looked as if he was made for this genre

“nice to meet you,” seonghwa greeted with a polite grin, bowing as you smiled in response

“yeah, thanks for coming too,” mingi smiled

while you listened to them all talk, wooyoung being the one you heard the most, your eyes wandered to the back where you saw hongjoong on his phone, cigarette between his lips as he stayed apart from the rest. you weren’t sure why he was alone, eyebrow raised.

but your chest felt a bit heavier and breath hitched when he tilted his head and shifted to meet your gaze, blowing the smoke in the air. how could he make death look so marvelous?

“yah! joong, you can’t smoke in here, i’m not getting in trouble because of you,” yeosang broke the trance you were in as he scolded the blonde who rolled his eyes and took another long drag

“fine,” he exhaled, glancing at you before making his way out, blowing out the smoke as he pushed open the door and walked out

turning your attention back to the group, your brows furrowed together, “is he always like that?” and you wanted to simply ask if he was always an asshole but for the sake of being civil…

seonghwa sighed, “he’s not so bad, he just had a tough morning.”

mingi snickered, nodding while wooyoung groaned, “yeah but he made practice ten times more hard! all because of that girl he bumped into,”

“ah, sounds like your morning, y/n” yeosang humored as he grabbed his jacket

and you wanted to scowl, eyes glancing back to the window where you saw him focused on the nightsky, exhaling the smoke that he inhaled. “so he’s the asshole stranger.”

of course, makes sense.

“he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” seonghwa repeated with a reassuring smile

you shrugged, “and pigs can fly.” you muttered because certainly first impressions matter to you and with the pretty rockstar, he managed to have two and failed them both miserably

you just hoped you’d never have to see his stupid pretty face again.

masterlist . . next

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fourstarsoutofnine · 1 year ago

Note

I would like to humbly request a fluffy fic for Wind where the reader and him are having fun at a lake or similar so he can get his mind off of something very stressing that happened to him recently 🥺 The dynamic I had in mind is reader being kinda like an older sibling to him

Ur fics are soooo good and so cute <3 hope you don't mind this request.

A/n:heyoooo! Im gonna combine these two. Wrote this in one go with Long Story Short bc Taylor Swift playing on repeat and my cat half asleep on my arm. Wind is one of my favorites and I really enjoyed writing this :) not proofread btw

Warnings:none!

Lake Shenanigans with the Hero of Winds.

You’d all been traveling for hours and hours with seemingly no end in sight. It had been a very taxing night before—a particularly difficult fight had left everyone, especially the sailor, in disarray. Every part of you ached as you walked beside the young boy, and you begged Hylia, Din, Nayru, and Farore—anyone who would listen—for a break. You needed to sit down and let your feet rest. Your body cried for it in the way it creaked and popped with each step as though you were an old tree rocking with the wind. And then you saw it in your periphery. A lake.

“Hey old man!!!” You were suddenly met with a new sense of energy with the idea of rest just on the horizon. You ran ahead to walk next to the man. “Can we go to the lake??? We’ve been walking since four AM… it’s…” you didn’t even know what time it was, and your face scrunched in confusion as you tried to throw together the hours that swirled in your memory like paint mixing into a deep, ugly gray hue. You didn’t have a clue how long it’d been. “I—I Don’t know what time it is now, but that makes my case even more urgent—we need to rest…”

He looked up to the sky as he thought. It had been a while… he looked back to the group of men and boys behind him, exhaustion radiating from them like heat waves from a sheet of metal. “…alright. I don’t see why not. Detour, boys. We’re going to the lake.”

“What’s a lake?” The youngest hero, the hero of winds, asked.

“What’s a lake???” You exclaimed with surprise written on your face. It hit you then. The sailor was from a time where Hyrule was surrounded by oceans, its once vast lands reduced to mere islands. “Well—….” You went to walk beside the boy as you followed the old man’s new path towards the body of water. “It’s….like a small sea… and it’s freshwater instead of saltwater… and they’re *really* nice to swim in.”

He seemed even more eager to get to your destination after that. It brought a pep to the step of everyone in the group and in a matter of mere minutes, you all arrived. The sailor lit up once he saw the water. “Whoa!!! It is like a mini lake!!” He shouted with a smile that could light the way even in pure darkness. His eyes sparkled at the waterfall dumping fresh water into the lake. It was more the beginning of a River, really, but you weren’t complaining. It was cleaner with moving water. Not like you were extremely worried about that, though.

“Uh-huh! Told you!” You smiled and slipped your shoes off, putting your feet into the lake and sighing in relief from the cold water that eased your aches in a chilled embrace you welcomed graciously. You watched the champion strip himself of his armor and jump in with caution thrown to the wind, as it always was in his case. You supposed, if he could face death and return victorious then there wasn’t much for him to fear.

Several links followed his lead and swam around with each other, playing chicken fight, and diving to the bottom to see what treasures may lie there from days past. You remained where you were until the sailor came up to you with a devilish look that only told you he was up to no good.

“Uh oh. What trouble are you getting into?” You grinned.

“Now why would you think that??? I’m a good boy I do no harm.” He smiled and batted his eyelashes, to which you gave a scoffing laugh.

“Yeah, right—okay.” You rolled your eyes. “What’s the agenda, sailor?”

“Look at the vet.” He said and you turned your head. The vet laid with his feet in the water and his hat over his face. His arms acted as a pillow behind his head. He was virtually defenseless and far too at your mercy for his own good. You knew what the sailor had in mind without him having to tell you, and the evil smile you returned to the boy told him exactly that. You were on the exact same page and spoke the same language of mischief as he did. The two of you snuck off to grab one of the buckets the group carried. You scooped water Into it and snuck as silently over as you could. Thankfully, he was too deep into sleep to notice you at all. You silently counted down from 3 on your fingers. Once reaching zero, you dumped it on him and he shot up with a gasp as you threw the bucket and ran for your lives. He whipped around to see your retreating forms and leapt up to chase after you. You two split up and ran back around him, jumping into the lake with little regard to your clothes. They’d dry, you’d be fine. And so would the vet, even if he’d pout and scowl the rest of the day. It was funny, he had to admit(even if he wouldn’t). All hell always broke loose whenever you and the sailor teamed up for shenanigans, but the group needed that sometimes. They were a serious bunch when they went too long without fun. You two would always be there to bring it back.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu legend #lu four #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu wind #lu sky #lu time #Lu wind & reader #wind and reader #Lu wars #Lu wild

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realityjoey · 2 months ago

Text

COWBOYS (RILEY ANDERSON MC x EVAN BUCKLEY)

The Halloween night was alive with crisp autumn air, pumpkin spice scents, and the thrill of a chill-inducing adventure. The 118 team—Buck, Riley, Eddie, Hen, Chimney, and Bobby—had decided to take on the challenge of a haunted house attraction, one of the most notorious in the city. It was known for pushing the limits of fear, with hidden actors, gruesome scenes, and sound effects that could make even the bravest tremble.

Riley, always up for an adventure, had brought along some of her siblings—Georgie, Bailey, Kyra, and Ollie. The younger ones, Miles and Lily, were too young for this particular brand of Halloween fun, but the older siblings were excited, their energy adding a buzz to the night. Buck, of course, was in high spirits, taking every opportunity to position himself next to Riley, playfully nudging her shoulder and whispering mock-bravery claims about how he was going to protect her from whatever lurked in the darkness.

As they approached the entrance, the haunted house loomed ahead like a shadowy monster, all flickering lights and ominous music. A sign at the front read, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” Buck scoffed, but Riley raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Feeling confident?” she teased, leaning in close enough for her breath to tickle his ear.

“You know it, babe. Nothing in there’s gonna scare me,” he replied with a bravado that sounded convincing—until Riley’s siblings caught wind of it.

“Okay then, Buckley,” Georgie grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. “Why don’t you take the lead?”

The rest of the siblings joined in, egging Buck on to be the fearless leader. Buck’s chest puffed out slightly, determined to prove himself, especially with Riley’s watchful eyes on him. He shot her a confident smile and strode forward, the others falling into a line behind him. Riley chuckled softly, rolling her eyes, but there was a fondness in her gaze as she watched him lead the charge.

They entered the haunted house, where dim, flickering lights barely illuminated their path. The air felt thick, and eerie sound effects filled the air—chains clinking, ghostly whispers, and distant screams that seemed to echo through the darkness. Riley stayed close to Buck, letting him take the lead even as her siblings huddled together, their initial excitement turning to nervous giggles.

The first jump scare came quickly—a masked figure leaping out from behind a hidden door with a loud growl. Buck jolted, letting out a surprised shout, and Riley couldn’t hold back her laughter. “That’s one for the brave Buckley,” she quipped, nudging him with her shoulder as they continued down the dark, winding path.

Buck huffed, his pride dented. “I’m just… staying on alert,” he said, trying to regain his composure. But each time another scare came—a bloodied zombie lurching out from the shadows, a creepy doll whispering in a dark corner, a sudden flash of lightning revealing gory scenes on the walls—Buck flinched. And each time, Riley was quick to tease, her voice light but filled with affection. “You’re really showing those monsters who’s boss, aren’t you?”

Eddie and Chimney were having a field day with it too, taking turns to mock Buck’s bravado, but Buck kept pushing forward, determined to make it through without admitting defeat.

They soon reached the most chilling part of the house: an old, decrepit nursery room with creaking rocking horses, dusty cribs, and broken dolls that seemed to follow them with their eyes. A distorted lullaby played softly in the background, adding an eerie touch to the scene. As they walked through, Riley’s smile faltered, her steps slowing. She glanced around the room, her eyes lingering on the shadows that seemed to crawl along the walls, her breathing becoming a bit unsteady.

Buck noticed her change in demeanor almost immediately. He stepped back beside her, his earlier bravado melting into concern. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice low so that only she could hear.

Riley nodded quickly, but there was a tightness around her eyes, a tension that Buck knew too well. He reached out, gently taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You know, we can get out of here if you want,” he offered, his voice softer than she’d heard all night. The teasing, cocky tone was gone, replaced by genuine care.

She shook her head again, taking a shaky breath. “No, it’s just… reminds me of things back home. Places I’d rather forget,” she admitted quietly, not meeting his eyes. It wasn’t often that she opened up about her past, especially in front of the team or her siblings, but in that dimly lit room with Buck’s warm hand around hers, she felt a little more at ease.

Buck’s expression softened, and he pulled her a bit closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders protectively. “Hey, you don’t have to explain,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, okay? Nothing in here’s going to hurt you. And I promise, we’re getting out of here together, no matter what spooky dolls decide to jump out at us.” He tried to add a bit of humor, hoping to lighten the heaviness he felt coming from her.

Riley finally looked up, meeting his gaze, and managed a small, grateful smile. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he shot back, and she chuckled softly, leaning into his side for a moment. It was a fleeting but intimate moment amid the chaos of the haunted house, one that made the whole experience feel less terrifying, knowing they had each other to lean on.

As they moved on, Buck kept a protective arm around her, guiding her through the remaining rooms. Despite his earlier jumps and scares, he remained steadfast by her side, ready to pull her closer whenever she flinched at the sudden noises or creepy props.

By the time they reached the end of the haunted house, the group emerged into the cool night air, buzzing with the thrill of surviving the ordeal. Buck, with his arm still around Riley, tried to play it cool in front of her siblings, despite the teasing that continued from Georgie and the others about his bravery—or lack thereof.

But Riley, seeing the way he’d stayed with her when things got tough, couldn’t help but see him in a new light. She knew how much he’d done it for her, how hard he’d tried to keep the fear at bay, even when it got to him.

As the group laughed and recounted their favorite moments from the haunted house, Riley pulled Buck aside for a moment. “Thanks,” she said softly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “For being there, and for not making me feel stupid about… you know.”

Buck smiled down at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Anytime, Riley. You know I’d walk through a hundred haunted houses if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Even if you end up screaming more than me?” she teased, the sparkle returning to her eyes.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. “Even then. Besides, I like hearing your laugh—worth every jump scare.”

And as they stood there, wrapped up in each other beneath the glow of the Halloween lights, surrounded by Riley’s siblings and their makeshift family, they both knew they’d remember this haunted house adventure not just for the scares, but for the way it brought them closer together.

The haunted house adventure had left everyone in high spirits, and the night wasn’t over yet. Bobby and Athena had invited everyone back to their place for pumpkin carving, a tradition that had become a staple for the 118 and their extended family. The backyard was decked out with string lights, autumn-themed decorations, and tables lined with snacks, drinks, and enough pumpkins to keep everyone busy for hours.

As everyone gathered in the backyard, laughter filled the cool night air. Bobby stood at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs while Athena handed out hot cider to warm everyone up. Hen and Karen helped their son Denny set up his pumpkin on a table, while Maddie and Chimney tried to wrangle Jee-Yun, who was toddling around excitedly between the adults. May and Harry were busy picking out the best pumpkins with Eddie and Christopher, who were already discussing the intricate designs they wanted to carve.

Buck and Riley arrived with her siblings—Georgie, Bailey, Kyra, and Ollie—who had been buzzing with excitement since leaving the haunted house. They immediately ran over to the table covered in pumpkins, eager to start carving their own spooky designs.

“Alright, everyone, grab a pumpkin and some tools,” Bobby called out, smiling warmly as he watched the chaotic scene unfold. “We’ve got a lot of carving to do before these kids eat all the candy.”

Riley found a spot at one of the tables with Buck and her siblings. She noticed Bailey eyeing the spread of candy eagerly and gave him a mock-stern look. “You can have more candy if you actually finish a pumpkin this time, Bailey.”

Bailey grinned cheekily. “You sound like a proper mum, Riley.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Just don’t make a mess of Athena’s garden, alright?”

Buck, meanwhile, was trying to keep up with Ollie’s ambitious plan for a skeleton face pumpkin. “Okay, so you want the teeth to look… like this?” Buck asked, sketching a rough outline on the pumpkin.

Ollie scrutinized Buck’s sketch and then nodded approvingly. “Yeah, that’s perfect. But make it scarier, okay?”

“Scarier, got it,” Buck replied with a wink, ruffling Ollie’s hair. “You picked the right guy for the job.”

Across the yard, Riley joined Kyra, who was carving a classic jack-o’-lantern face with a mischievous grin. Riley’s hands worked skillfully as she helped Kyra shape the eyes, her thoughts drifting for a moment as she glanced over at Buck. He was in full “big brother” mode, guiding Ollie’s hand as they carved together. The sight warmed her heart, and she felt a wave of gratitude for how easily he’d embraced her siblings and made them feel like they were a part of this patchwork family.

Riley’s gaze lingered on him, and a soft smile curved her lips. Noticing her distraction, Georgie elbowed her playfully. “You’re staring, Riley.”

“Shut up,” Riley mumbled, blushing slightly but not taking her eyes off Buck. “I’m just making sure he doesn’t mess up Ollie’s pumpkin.”

Georgie smirked, shaking her head. “Sure you are.”

Not far away, Hen and Karen were getting into a friendly competition with Eddie and Christopher over who could carve the best superhero-themed pumpkin. Christopher insisted that his dad’s pumpkin would win, while Denny sided with his moms, and soon, their laughter filled the yard as they teased each other over their carving skills.

Meanwhile, Chimney tried to distract Jee-Yun with a small pumpkin of her own, carefully guiding her tiny hands as she smeared paint across its surface. “Look, Jee-Yun, you’re making a masterpiece,” he said, beaming at her messy creation.

Maddie smiled at the sight, capturing the moment with her phone. “She’s going to be a little artist, isn’t she?”

Athena, watching the scene from the patio with a warm smile, turned to Bobby as he finished up at the grill. “You’ve got to admit, there’s something special about this group. It’s like one big, chaotic family.”

Bobby nodded, his expression fond as he glanced out over their makeshift family, all gathered together under the glow of the patio lights. “Yeah, it’s nights like these that remind you what it’s all about.”

As the evening went on, the pumpkins slowly took shape, each one unique. Riley and Kyra’s jack-o’-lantern had a wide, mischievous grin, while Georgie’s had sharp, menacing eyes. Ollie’s skeleton pumpkin with Buck’s help turned out to be one of the more detailed ones, though it took a few teasing jabs from Hen about how much time they’d spent on it.

“Hey, we’re perfectionists, okay?” Buck defended, pointing a carving knife at Hen in mock seriousness, making everyone around him laugh. Riley rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his antics.

As the night drew on, the group gathered around the table to admire their finished pumpkins, each one lit up with a flickering candle inside. The yard glowed with an eerie but comforting light, the warmth of the company making it feel like a true celebration.

Riley leaned into Buck’s side, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched Ollie excitedly show off their skeleton pumpkin to Denny and Christopher. Buck slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “You having a good time?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft as she looked up at him. “I am. It’s nice… being with everyone like this. Feels like home.”

Buck’s expression softened, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, it does. And you know, I think we’ve got the best pumpkin here.”

Riley snorted, glancing over at their pumpkin, which now had a bit of a lopsided grin thanks to Ollie’s last-minute changes. “Sure, Buckley, whatever you say.”

He laughed, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Okay, maybe it’s not the best, but it’s definitely got the most heart.”

She couldn’t argue with that, and as they stood there, surrounded by their friends and family, Riley felt a warmth settle in her chest, one that chased away the chill of the earlier haunted house and left her feeling truly at peace.

As the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood, Buck and Riley headed home from Bobby and Athena’s. Their next mission for the evening: taking Riley’s youngest siblings, Miles and Lily, out trick-or-treating. The backseat of the car buzzed with chatter as Riley checked in with her siblings over the phone, reminding them to have their costumes ready by the time she and Buck arrived.

When they pulled into the driveway, Riley spotted Miles and Lily waiting eagerly at the door, already in their costumes. Miles had chosen to dress up as a cowboy, but there was a nervous look on his face as he fidgeted with his hat. Next to him, Lily bounced up and down with excitement, her princess dress glittering in the fading light. She had insisted on being a princess for Halloween, complete with a tiara that she wore proudly atop her curly hair.

Riley stepped out of the car, her eyes softening at the sight of her younger siblings. She reached out to ruffle Miles’ hair as they approached the door. “Hey, you two, ready to get some candy?”

Lily nodded enthusiastically, clutching her pumpkin-shaped bucket. “I want to get so much candy!” she declared, her eyes wide with determination.

Miles, however, shifted uncomfortably in his boots, glancing at his costume and then down at the ground. “I… I don’t know if I want to wear this anymore,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Riley exchanged a concerned look with Buck, who knelt down beside Miles, keeping his tone gentle. “Hey, what’s up, little man? You look great in that cowboy getup. Those boots are awesome.”

Miles hesitated, shrugging his shoulders. “Some kids at school said cowboys are lame… that it’s not a cool costume.”

Buck’s brow furrowed, a flash of protectiveness sparking in his eyes. But he quickly softened his expression and leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know what? I think cowboys are the coolest. In fact, I bet if I had a costume like that, I’d wear it too.”

Miles looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. “You… you’d wear a cowboy costume?”

Buck grinned, ruffling Miles’ hair. “Give me a second.” He winked at Riley, then jogged over to the car. From the trunk, he pulled out a cowboy hat he’d brought along—just in case. He slipped it on and grabbed a bandana he found in the backseat, tying it around his neck like a makeshift cowboy. He threw on an old flannel he had, completing the look.

When he returned, striking a dramatic pose with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, Miles couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. Riley covered her mouth to hide a smile, the warmth of the moment filling her heart. “Well, what do you think?” Buck asked, tipping his hat at Miles. “Think I make a good sidekick for the toughest cowboy in town?”

Miles’ smile widened, his earlier insecurity fading as he looked at Buck. “Yeah. You look cool, Buck.”

“Yeah?” Buck beamed and nudged Miles gently. “That’s what I thought. Now come on, let’s show the neighborhood what real cowboys are made of.”

Riley couldn’t resist stepping closer, wrapping her arm around Buck’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He leaned down, catching her lips with his for a brief, sweet moment. “Just want to make sure Miles has a good time.”

With their spirits lifted, the little group set off down the street. Lily practically skipped ahead, waving her wand and announcing herself as “Princess Lily of Candyland” at every house they approached. Each time a door opened, she’d strike a royal pose, her high-pitched voice chiming, “Trick or treat!” The neighbors couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, and she quickly amassed a pile of candy in her little bucket.

Miles, now more confident with Buck at his side, got into the spirit as well, adopting a bit of a swagger with his cowboy boots as he and Buck approached each door. He would give a serious “Yeehaw!” after every house, and Buck would follow it up with a deep “Howdy, partner!” that made Miles laugh every time. The two of them made quite the pair, tipping their hats and playing up their roles.

Riley followed close behind, her heart swelling as she watched Buck and her siblings together. There was something so tender about the way he made Miles feel seen and special, the way he encouraged Lily’s wild imagination without a hint of teasing. It was moments like this that made her realize just how much he had become a part of her life—of their life. She felt a deep sense of love and gratitude for the way he embraced her family, for the way he made them feel safe and valued.

At one point, as they paused under the glow of a streetlamp, Buck caught her watching him with a soft expression. He offered her a lopsided smile and reached out to take her hand, pulling her in for a side hug. “What’s that look for?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle so as not to interrupt the kids’ excitement.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “I just… I love seeing you with them. You’re amazing with them, you know that?”

Buck’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “They’re great kids. And I’m pretty lucky, too. Not everyone gets to be a cowboy sidekick for Halloween.”

Riley laughed softly, the sound carrying through the cool night air. “You’re definitely the best one they could ask for.”

They continued down the street, Lily and Miles darting from house to house, collecting candy and showing off their costumes. As the night wore on, their little group made its way back home, the kids chattering excitedly about their candy haul while Riley and Buck followed behind, hands intertwined.

When they finally arrived back at Riley’s house, Buck lifted Lily up in his arms, spinning her around until she shrieked with laughter. “Alright, Princess Lily, I think it’s time to count your royal treasure,” he said, setting her down on the porch. She immediately dumped her candy onto the steps, sorting through the pile with wide-eyed excitement.

Miles joined her, comparing their hauls and divvying up their favorite sweets. Riley leaned against the porch railing, watching the scene with a content smile. Buck joined her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth, “I never really thought this was something I’d be doing—taking kids trick-or-treating, being a cowboy, all of it. But… I think it might be my favorite Halloween yet.”

Riley looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

He glanced over at Miles and Lily, then back at her, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Because I get to do it with you. And… it just feels right, you know? Like this is where I’m meant to be.”

Riley felt her heart swell, and she reached up to brush a gentle hand against his cheek. “You’re where you’re meant to be, Buck. Right here with us.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in the glow of the porch light and the laughter of the kids, knowing that this Halloween—this simple, perfect night—was something they’d both remember for a long time to come.

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