#it was supposed to be about team building and getting to know each other

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

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Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“This was her last known location,” Foxglove spoke as she stood on top of the Novick Building where your emergency alert was sent out, Clove, Nettle, and Henbane were all with her in their suits and each of them looked over the scene, not a trace of anything or anyone being there. Foxglove looked around until her eyes fell upon one of the security cameras on a nearby building. “If I could get access to Mr. Austen’s network I could piece together about a quarter of the camera in the city and we could maybe see where she is, but that is a huge maybe.”

“Well Clove and I could drive down to meet him, he’ll probably be able to help us- does anyone hear that?” Nettle began to speak but was cut off by a buzzing sound in his ear from the comm lines which should be off since everyone on their team who was active was right on that rooftop. “I’m not crazy right?” “No, you are not crazy.” There was a new voice on the comm lines, a female voice, one that was unfamiliar to all of your friends and teammates, but one that you would have recognized in an instant, Barbara Gordon. “Don’t panic, I’m a friend, my name is Oracle and I want to help find your friend just like you.”

“I’m sorry, but Oracle we don’t know who you are and our friend was just kidnapped-”

“Come to the Old Wayne Tower, there is a garage door in an alley off of Kane Street that is closed to the public, you can park your vehicles there and there will be someone down there to meet you and bring you up to the clocktower.” Clove was interrupted by the mysterious woman who hacked into their network, or maybe she already had. “Also you guys really need to get a more secure security system, this is the second network of yours that I have gotten into.”

“Oh so you are with the Bat, aren’t you?” Clove questioned and there was a hum from the other end of the line from Oracle.

“More or less, look, just get here within the hour, we don’t have much time to lose here.” There was the sound of keys on a keyboard being clicked before Oracle's line went dead. 

“Jesus… so we are supposed to listen to her?” Henbane groaned, glancing around at your teammates and they all just stood there in silence with their own thoughts about what had just transpired. “Guys, seriously?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Nettle replied, shrugging his shoulders and walking toward the edge of the building. “Our friend is missing and the Bat wants to work together, or at least his friends do, I’d rather not wait around and see what happens.”

“He does have a point, we aren’t exactly in a position to refuse,” Clove responded, following after Nettle while speaking over to the most muscular of the bunch, after all Henbane was built like he was supposed to have powers but they just never came to him like a recessive gene. “Look if we don’t like the vibe they’re giving off we’ll just leave, but something tells me they’ll have more resources to find her than we do.”

“God… I would follow you all into hell and you would say it’s fine.”

______________________

You did not like the room where you were kept in, not the fact that it was nice but the fact that there were no windows, no sound outside of the room, and no one to talk to once Gabriel left you alone, putting on that unsettling owl mask as he called you sweet pet names like he always did before this, meanwhile you were left to cope with the fact that the man you had thought you were in love with was an absolute monster, one who would kill his mother with no remorse in the slightest, he almost seemed giddy at the mere mention of the blood and gore he had created. 

You had been changed out of your suit while you were unconscious, which you were not exactly surprised by since he had seen how your suit was put on that night at the museum, you were now wearing a long yellow skirt and white button-up shirt with a cream colored vest and black ribbon tie, the clothing was almost reminiscent of the old school uniform of your high school you wore when you had started dating Gabriel, though this version was far less like a uniform and rather more like the sort of clothes that detective characters in books or movies would have worn. There was not much to do besides read the few books that were lying on the side tables by the bed, mostly history books or historical fiction, fitting for Gabriel’s interests in historical works that started when you were in high school.

You groaned and tossed the book onto the bed as you stood up from the armchair you sat in, you had read that book a few years prior back at the manor, a recommendation from Jason. Your stocking-covered feet led you over to the wardrobe, bored out of your mind, and you opened the heavy doors of the antique piece of furniture and inside were dress clothes, the kind someone like you, who grew up in money, would wear on the daily, there were dresses, skirts, and blouses, all most likely for you, but there were also nice dress shirts, pants, and vests most likely for Gabriel. Your hands drifted to the sleeves of one of Gabriel’s dress shirts, your fingers tracing the seams of the expensive silk shirt and then your fingers felt something, a pocket that was sewn into the inside of the shirt’s sleeves, your fingers slipped inside the shirt to feel the size of the pocket more accurately and you felt out the shape of the pocket to be the perfect size of a small throwing knife, although it was empty currently. It should not have surprised you, knowing who he actually was and his family owning the largest high fashion company in the country would have made it easy for him to get his hands on custom-made fashion pieces like this. You then checked the sleeves of your own clothing and there was no such a thing in any of your own, but then you looked over all of his clothing, suit jackets, shirts, pants, most of them had some sort of hidden pockets to hide what he needed to be hidden. Hidden weapons mixed with his false persona that charmed almost all of Gotham made him such a deadly person with such a wicked heart inside of him hidden behind all that kindness and smiles he showed you.

“The young master picked out every piece in there for you personally.” A new voice spoke up suddenly, you did not even hear the heavy doors to the room open. You whipped your head around to see a young woman in a long red dress, curled and styled brown hair, but she wore that same white owl mask that hid her expression and face from you which was unsettling, to say the least. The unknown woman took a step towards you which made you flinch at first but then she just continued walking forward towards you, if anything she was amused by your reaction. “I know you probably don’t remember me since it has been quite a while since we last met, it’s been almost five years since graduation.”

“We… We went to high school together?” You paused, pondering her words, honestly, you should have guessed if one person in your life who you were close to that was outside of your family was a part of such a cult-like organization you should have guessed all of them were a part of the Court of Owls. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you… the mask and all.”

“Ah… well I suppose that would be another reason.” Her hands then reached up and removed her mask, you did recognize her from your high school days, her name was Clara O’hare, and she was a friend of yours from the gardening club, one of the few things your father and siblings allowed you to participate in mostly because it was only active for such a short part of the year because of the harsh winter and autumn weather of Gotham. She was kind to you, she was one of the few people you would have called a close friend. If it was not for the given circumstances of your current reunion you would have run up to hug her, but instead, you were just left staring at her. She smiled at you and reached out, her free hand that did not hold her mask wrapped around you in a hug, a soft hum coming from her lips that rang in your ear. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long.”

“Are… are all of you like this from school?” You asked, your voice completely flat, no emotion showing despite the shock and terror in your veins, you were honestly terrified when you met Scarecrow but you covered it up, staying calm under stress was one of the first things you learned when you took to the streets of Gotham. You reached up and pushed away your once friend and you saw the look of betrayal on her face when you did not want her near you. “Everything was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“No! No, I would… I… I’m sorry…”

“You… I don’t know what I expected.” You shook your head and moved past her to sit down on the bed, your arms coming around you to hug yourself. She looked at you like she wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say to you now in your current state. “I… I don’t want any of this… I…”

“I know this is probably a lot, but the Judge of Owls is-”

“Judge of Owls? You mean Gabriel?”

“Well, you are the only one who calls him by that name here.” She replied, walking over to you and sitting down next to you down on the bed, and reaching over to set a hand on your shoulder, her thumb stroking your fabric-covered skin in a way to show comfort. “The former Judge of Owls was his mother and now that she is… gone, your future husband is the new Judge-”

“I am not marrying him.” You snapped back at your former friend and you could see her recoil at your anger. “I am not marrying a psychopathic killer!” “Don’t talk like that… not in front of the others.” There was a sudden look of panic on her face at your words and she glanced around to make sure there was no one or nothing watching the two of you, maybe a camera or microphone in the room but perhaps Gabriel respected you too much to not spy on you in a private space but he would send some sort of assassin after you. “Look I know you are upset but there are other members here who would not take kindly to your words, and they are the type to try to kill you for it. Trust me the only allies you have here are me and our old classmates who have too much respect for you and while the Judg- Gabriel would never hurt you physically personally, I would not test his patience especially now.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you knew, I mean you were the one who warned the Judge about it.” You looked at Clara in confusion and she looked back at you with a similar expression just with a bit of concern. “The Court of Owls has come into conflict with the League of Assassins, as it seems the League has interfered with the purpose of the Court.”

You thought about Talia’s words, her original warning about danger brewing in Gotham, it was about whatever was about to go down between the Court of Owls and the League of Assassins for whatever reasons, the exact reason why was not something you knew yet, keyword yet, you would find out soon enough. Talia wanted you to get out of harm's way either because she cared, which you doubted, or because she knew you would try to interfere with whatever was going to happen. No doubt that Ra’s Al Ghul wanted you out of the way for the same reason so when his daughter failed at getting to go crawling back to your family, he lifted the veil just a little bit so you would get a peak to scare you away, somewhat of a messed up love language.

“I see… I was played.” You sighed, your eyes falling to the floor, the horrifying realization coming upon you. Your best guess was that in Ra’s Al Ghul’s philosophy, if you could call it that, to root out corruption all over the world by destroying things to build them back up, the man was a fanatic, to say the least. Gotham City was about to become ground zero for an all-out war. “God above… how many people are gonna die?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry… personal thoughts…” 

“Alright… I do have to ask, how did you come into contact with the League of Assassins?” Clara asked you and you felt yourself stiffen up because there was no good answer to that question. “I understand that you were- are Songbird and all, but you have been doing this sort of thing for only a few years and I didn’t take you for the type to get tangled up in their business.”

“It’s… it’s a really long story.” You did not have time to explain how your half brother, whose conception was a bit startling, was the grandson of the Demon’s Head, and how the said grandfather and his daughter were rather fond of you. “I have had a few fond encounters with members of the League of Assassins, or at least that is how they would portray it.”

“Well you certainly don’t have to worry about that now, you will be safe with us.” You internally rolled your eyes at that comment, you never needed to worry about the Leauge of Assassins, you suppose in the eyes of both the Court of Owls and in the Court of Owls harming you was extremely against the rules unless someone wished for their head to be separated from their body. 

“I would call myself exactly safe when I was kidnapped to get here.” You stood up from the bed, your mind being able to piece things together in your mind. You remember that old rhyme your mother used to tell you when you asked about Gotham since you were born and raised for the first few years of your life outside of Gotham, Singapore is actually where your mother tried to raise you but sadly due to her business affairs she was brought back to Gotham and that was her biggest mistake…

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time,ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. 

They watch you at your hearth,they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they’ll send the Talon for your head.

Was that thing they sent after you called a Talon? It would make sense in the end since how bids like owls strike down and capture their prey is with their clawed talons. You had begun to pace the floor in your thoughts, asking yourself questions in your head like why that thing was so strong. You had fought trained assassins and other sorts of killers before but those things, that Talon’s, strength just made no logical sense if they were just human, but it could not be something like Bane’s venom since Henbane and Nettle had been working on shutting down any trade of the super steroid. It also could not be something like natural super abilities since you know what that sort of thing looks like firsthand.

You were not going to get any answers in here and you did not have a key to the locked door, but there was someone stuck in here with you who did.

“Sorry, my mind just went detective mode, force of habit.” You forced yourself to stop and smile at your former friend, coming to sit down next to her. You leaned over, resting your head on her shoulder as your hand rested on her opposite shoulder. “You know, I guess I was just startled by all this, those years of constant paranoia getting to me, just how the life of a vigilante is.”

“Oh, I figured, you were always so sweet back in school- HEY- mph!?” You did not waste another moment, your hand on her shoulder moving up so you wrapped your arm around her neck, your forearm pressing against her throat, and your other hand coming to cover her mouth out of habit even if the room was soundproofed. You squeezed down her throat, cutting off her flow of oxygen just so she passed out and her body fell limp. 

“Sorry Clara, I do feel bad about this, but something else I picked up as Songbird is to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” You quickly set her down and stood up and searched her body, found the skeleton key you were looking for, and grabbed her mask for safe measure, actually, you changed your mind last minute and set the mask back down, you did not want to even be associated with that cult of an organization. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the door leading out of the bedroom and you reached out with the key to unlock the door and…

Before you could even put the key in the lock you heard the door unlocking on the other side of the said door…

You froze up when you saw the door open to just reveal a masked Gabriel, you could hear him sigh fondly behind the mask and he reached up to remove it and you saw his gentle and smiling face. He glanced back at the bed where an unconscious Clara lay along with her mask, and then he just looked at you, shaking his head with another gentle sigh. “Always the detective and fighter, honestly if I did not love you so much I am sure the rest of Court would have tried to kill you years ago, don’t worry I’ll have someone take care of this disappointment, I was really hoping on of our old school friends would be able to calm you down, but alas it seems not.”

“Gabriel…”

“Hush now my dove, I was hoping to show you a few things.” He took your hand in his left hand and began pulling you down the hallway as his right hand placed the white owl mask back upon his face. “And it seems I should show you a few other more… rather unpleasant things in order to keep you in line.”

______________________

“This is the place she said to go,” Nettle spoke as he hopped off Clove’s bike, he had ridden along with her, his hands holding onto her waist before he got up. He looked around the empty garage, obviously unopened to the public for quite some time. “No one is here though, maybe they are late.”

“Or maybe you all are just blind.” A voice made everyone jump, even Foxflove and Henbane who were stepping out of the car Mr. Austen had made for them. They all turned to see a woman none of them had recognized, or at least never knew her secret identity, of course, they all would recognize Batwoman, or as you knew her, Kate Kane. She was standing by a door that led into an elevator which would normally be hidden by a false concrete slab, she gestured with a nod of her head to follow after her. “C’mon, everyone else is waiting upstairs.”

“Everyone?” Clove questioned, skittering after the red-haired woman into the elevator. Honestly, the comparison between the two women was so vast, Clove was the sweet and short type, her short and curly brown hair along with her round glasses gave her a doll-like appearance appearance, not exactly looking like a hero in the classic sense but she was definitely approachable to children and people who were scared and need a comforting face. Kate on the other hand was tall and muscular, absolutely towering over your small friend, her reputation as being rather stubborn and abrasive personality made her rather intimidating. “You mean like Red Hood, Nightwing, Batman…”

“Yes, I do.”

There were unsure expressions exchanged between your friends and teammates before they all followed suit after Clove and Batwoman. The elevator was the old type with the iron bar-like door that closed when the elevator began going up and everyone stood in an awkward and nervous silence. The doors finally opened after perhaps a minute or two of going up in the elevator did they finally reached their destination, they could see through the iron bars of the door, everyone was gathered there. Some of them they had worked with on occasion but that was only Nettle and Foxglove really who had encountered Red Robin or Orphan during a case and they put their combined forces together. There was a red-haired woman in a wheelchair who you would know as Barbara Gordon, but your team recognized her voice as Oracle, the one who hacked into their comm lines. 

“Good to see you all made it in one piece, it’s nice to actually meet you all in person,” Oracle spoke to your friends, turning her wheelchair around from her desk to face all of them. There was a scoff heard from under the helmet of Red Hood and the red-haired woman glanced up at him with an annoyed expression. “Look I know you don’t want to work with them but they are the only ones who have had constant contact with her for the last four years.”

“Ya, we have lived with her for a while so I would say we know her pretty well, Clove especially,” Henbane spoke up, patting the young woman on the back. “Those two have gone on more missions together than anyone else on our team.”

“Or so I have heard.” Damian, or rather Robin spoke up, recalling your bathtub conversation with him and the mention of the burn scars from your fight with Firefly and Killer Moth along when she threatened to shoot your father when she felt you were threatened. He looked her up and down with a judgemental eye. “You do not look like much.”

“Clove can kick any of our asses in training, the only person who holds a candle to her skill is your sister.” Foxglove praised, patting the younger woman on the head. “But all that aside I am guessing you know why she went missing?”

“Yes, approximately nine hours ago my daughter was kidnapped on top of the Novick Building and I suppose you all know the same given you were found there when Oracle contacted you all, correct?” Your father, or rather Bruce Wayne spoke up, questioning all of your friends and they exchanged glances before Nettle spoke up.

“Well um… yes and no, we got an emergency signal from her around nine hours ago as well but we do not know what happened to her but before that, we did not have any contact with her for about a day, day and a half prior.

“That is because she returned to the manor after being given these photos.” Red Robin leaned over Oracle’s desk setting and slid over a file and zoomed in, a display of the photos of Gabriel you were given by Ra’s Al Ghul. Stunned expressions came across all of your friends’ faces, Nettle and Foxglove even looked horrified and Clove and Henbane looked like they were going to be sick to their stomachs. Then he clicked on something else, pulling up the security camera footage of your kidnapping by the masked assassin. “Her former fiance is a member of the Court of Owls, a group that most Gotham, including us, thought was just an urban legend. So given recent events there is a high probability that she was kidnapped by the Court of Owls and if it was not them then Damian, Robin, thinks there is a low chance it could have been the Leauge of Assassins since they have been active in the city as of late, but again the ladder is unlikely.”

“Alright, fine but if we help you there are a few things that we require,” Foxglove replied, stepping up and breaking their own stunned silence. “First of all if you hack into our systems, we get access to yours.”

“Easy enough.”

“Second, we get our benefactor on board, I am sure you know of Mr. Mark Austen, yes?”

“Our companies have worked together on a project or two, he is an acceptable partner.”

“Thirdly, once we find her, she does not go back to Wayne Manor unless she wants to, if she is injured she can go to a hospital or be brought to Austen Indestries’ medical lab. She can be safe living the life she wants.” There was clear tension in the room at Foxglove’s final requirement and a groan from Red Hood who was the most visibly upset about this, especially with this final requirement. 

“Told you we should not have brought them in on this.”

“Well to be totally honest with you, we don’t want to work with you either,” Foxglove replied, shrugging at your older brother’s irritated comment. “But you don’t have a choice, the difference between us is you all won’t die because you want to see her out of there, but we have nothing to live for besides each other, so we would die to get her out. Your choice, but if you really need out help than you don’t have much of one here.”

[darkeyedghost]

Well :/

[haaam-guuuurl]

Why didn't they talk about this in the BTS??????

did... did y'all PAINT a WHOLE ASS building?????

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: so basically i know next to nothing about photoshoots and stuff and this is just something i imagined and tried to convey in words. also im using my lil hc that bakugou has piercing holes in his ears, occasionally wears some small hoops or just dots just so they dont close. enjoy!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ contains: sexual tension? i guess?? masturbation, bakugou discovering his praise kink through reader. gender neutral reader. i think that’s all. not proofread!! im too tired sorry babes

part two!

just a thought on timeskip! bakugou where he begrudgingly agrees to do one photoshoot for some jewellery brand he doesn’t care about. since beat jeanist kind of forced him to do this and threatened to make him the face of his new clothing line, katsuki thought “fuck it”. and he is very well used to people looking at him in awe, as smug as that sounds, and he expects a huge set with dozens of people running around and whispering between each other, like he’s seen happen when he was visiting kirishima on his shooting.

he’s seen the obnoxiousness of the photographers, the over the top extravagancy of the designers and panicked makeup artists and other workers, and he despises the atmosphere that settles in studios, so of course he doesn’t wanna fucking do a shoot. but best jeanist assures him that the photographer/designer/whatever the fuck is a friend of his and a professional, and this shoot will be very different from any of the things he’s seen.

and it is different indeed.

the studio he goes to is a penthouse on top of a building; and as soon as he steps in he is met with a big ass room and windows that circle the said room, opening up an immaculate view from ceiling to the floor. and he counts only 3 people roaming in and out of the doors that lead to other rooms, which is a fucking surprise. him and his manager exchange a suspicious look before you finally emerge from one of the rooms, so busy setting your camera that only a timid call of your name from his manager is able to bring you back to the world.

a warm smile appears on your face as you extend a hand to his manager, which he shakes a little too excitedly for bakugou’s liking, enamoured smile stretching on his lips as he introduces himself. after slapping the back of his head, katsuki also shakes your hand and grumbles about getting this over with as he strides forward to the makeup artist.

he observes everything while his face is being touched with different brushes and powdered to the point of him sneezing it all off; one guy works on the lighting around the centre of the room where the shoot is going to be filmed, one girl runs around with a rack of clothes, gathering the stuff he will be wearing— mainly the jewellery he will be wearing since this shoot is supposed to be focused on that. and you occasionally chat with his very obviously crushing manager and continue to lead your small team, managing to build something out of nothing, and bakugou finds the atmosphere uncomfortably intimate.

there is no constant muttering around, a background noise he’s used to hearing even outside of the studios and all that; there is no arguing and no stress and no drama, which katsuki finds to be very weird, but somehow pleasant. a soft tune plays in the background after he gruffly declined an offer to put his own music if he wanted because no, music is indeed personal, and while you hum under your breath, oblivious to his staring, bakugou finds himself allured.

soon he is seated on the lonely looking stool: for the first round he’s got a couple of earrings in his ears, all rich looking gold and not as simple as he thought they would be, all carefully chosen by you. you stand extremely close to him, your hands coming up and down as you imagine how every piece would look on him and choose the best ones, the ones that fit only him, and at some point katsuki notices that he waits for your approving, pleased expression to appear with baited breath.

you don’t press him about posing a certain way, more focused on directing the lighting’s guy, most of your face hidden behind your camera as you angle it to capture the radiance of the stones and the way they compliment his skin tone. you gently order for some of the curtains to be opened and closed while you change sides and katsuki’s sure that he is doing literally nothing, just looking the way he thinks he looks good and relaxing when you smile down at the pictures on the small screen of your camera.

he is very much infatuated at this point, though. with how your soft voice guides everyone, guides him to sit a certain way, place his hands a certain way, asks him if you can touch him before you hang your camera on your neck and your soft fingers hover over his skin, scared to touch as if he’s made of porcelain yet gentle in the way they tilt his head to the side, effectively showing off his neck and the gold necklace that rests over his exposed collarbones.

“you’re a natural,” you mumble under your breath appreciatively, nimble fingers styling his hair, as you nearly stand between his spread legs. “nearly every shot is perfect.”

katsuki fucking prays that his chest isn’t turning red because the red will then crawl higher and reach his face too, and looking like a blushing schoolgirl in front of you wasn’t an option, not at all. he is used to being praised, unresponsive to it because frankly he couldn’t give a flying fuck about what people thought of him, however you’re so close and so soft and so sweet with that silky voice of yours and your charming smile.

you touch his cheek, wiping something off with an attentive gaze and pursed lips, and inquire if he wants to take a break or anything, but katsuki refuses. he honestly doesn’t even know if he wants this to be over, yet he knows that he will have to find your number one way or another, no explanation needed. everyone leaves to eat or whatever and he is finally left alone with you, waiting for you to come back from the makeup stand.

“bakugou-san?” you ask him and he snaps his head up, noticing a black pencil in your hand. eyeliner, he recognizes. “mind if i put some on?”

he nods and your free hand cups the side of his face, tilting it to your pleasing, moving him around any way you want because he lets you. while you apply and smear the liner over his lash line and lids, thumbs moving softly over the skin, katsuki is wondering: is he that touchstarved that fleeting touches, professionally required even, from a stranger he met a couple of hours ago make him want something he doesn’t even know he needed before? it’s fucking pathetic, awfully stupid of him, but when your thumb slides down to rub the corner of his bottom lip bakugou is pretty sure you aren’t just giving him some extra attention.

he isn’t a baby who needs someone to do things for him, you could’ve asked him or the makeup artist to do this stuff, yet you figured out that he isn’t opposed to your close proximity and stepped in, thighs brushing against each other and minty breaths mingling with his.

katsuki’s losing his mind by the end of the shooting, hoping that the loose pants that he is adorning are able to conceal the half hard dick he’s been trying to get down for the last half an hour.

and when he is finally home, alone, he shoves his hand deep in his pants, fist getting a hold of his fully hard, raging boner, a relieved groan escaping his throat as he strokes it up and down, thinking about the way you smelled so pleasantly and smiled at him like he was a gem, a precious stone you found, just like the real ones in the expensive accessories he’s worn today. dozens of cameras flashing in his face from different angles couldn’t compare to the attentiveness of your gaze that never left him during the photoshoot.

and while he is getting closer and closer to release katsuki thinks of the praises you muttered under your breath, how you appreciated him, told him how good he did for you and how pretty he was.

“doing so good f’me,” you whispered, looking at him through the camera while he slowly threw his head back to show off a necklace, careful to not stumble off the small stool, and he acted like the mesmerised tone of your voice didn’t make his dick harder. “wonderful, angel.”

fuck, when was the last time someone’s words had such impact on him? feels like a thousand fucking years, but katsuki’s too fucked out to think about that, gasping as he convulsed through his orgasm, his hand unable to slow down as spurts of milky liquid covered it.

“good boy.” rings in his head and his phone vibrates along with it.

a message from his manager containing your number.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day ten.

Jealous Lando (2.2k words)

summary: Something unleashes inside Lando when you run into one of your coworkers, his shameless invitation making him want to remind you who you belong to.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, blow job, fingering, jealous!lando, possessive!lando.

You found yourselves sitting in a somewhat fancy café in Austin, enjoying the warm weather as he told you about his day.

Lando had been a little bit busy with the duties that carried being a Formula One driver, so any little time you could spend with each other was well appreciated, so sitting really close to him in one of the couches as you sipped your coffee was nice.

However, you took a few days of vacations to go with him to the American races, but that didn’t mean you were completely off the hook since you carried your laptop everywhere in case you needed to get something done, which is what happened right now.

You got a notification on your phone from what seemed like an important email, so you pulled your laptop out to take a look at the file your boss had shared with you, promising Lando it wouldn’t take more than five minutes.

It had been like fifteen minutes and you were still reviewing it, now with your phone on your ear while you talked with someone about this new project you were supposed to take over once you got back as Lando had your computer on his lap.

He didn’t really mind, or at least that was what he always told you. Here is the thing: he understood that your job was important for you, and he appreciated the fact that you took a few days just so you could be with him, but sometimes he just wished you could quit so he could take you everywhere with him without having to worry about you focusing on a screen instead of him.

Was that selfish? Maybe, but who could blame him for wanting his girlfriend to be all his? 

You would never describe Lando as the possessive type, and maybe it was because he never voiced his concerns out loud. He was jealous sometimes, that’s for sure, but possessive? Not really.

“Sorry, baby. I really had to take this,” you said as you hung up the phone.

“It’s okay, but I don’t understand why you still have to do all of this if you are supposed to be on vacation.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought I would be able to go the full month without having to do any of this,” you sighed as you took one last look at the email. “I will try to stay off work for the rest of the time we are together, I promise.”

That really pissed him off. If you were on vacation, shouldn’t you be able to enjoy it? Lando was building up the courage to tell you what he had been thinking pretty much your entire relationship, carefully thinking about his words. “Maybe you should quit-”

“Oh, hi Y/N,” a random voice interrupted him, making both of you look up. You both saw one of your coworkers standing there, entirely ruining Lando’s plan to covince you to leave your job and become a full-time wag. He could already feel his blood boiling.

“Oh- hi,” you replied, trying to remember the guy’s name. 

“I didn’t know you were here. I mean, I knew you were off, but I assumed you were just staying home. Nice to see you are enjoying your free time travelling.” He was completely ignoring Lando, not directing a single word to him, not even a quick glare, and Lando didn’t like that. Not one bit. 

“Yeah, I took time off to go to a few races,” you said, motioning your head towards your now upset boyfriend. “What about you?”

“I’m here to attend my brother’s wedding,” he said with a small laugh. “But I didn’t bring anyone with me, so it will be a bit awkward to be the best man without a date.”

Lando already knew where this was going, and he was using all his self-control not to punch the guy in the face and tell him to fuck off. They were in a public place anyway, and he knew his team would not like to see something like this hit the news, but man, the guy really deserved it.

“Hey, unless you are free tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming with me? You know, free food and free buzz. Big party.” At that moment, Lando felt his coherent thoughts leave his mind, his hand finding a place on your thigh and squeezing it softly as he killed him with a glare.

“We’re busy, actually, can’t you see?” Lando finally spoke, in a tone you had never heard before, as he pointed to the open laptop that still rested on his lap.

“Oh, I didn’t mean right now," the guy replied, finally acknowledging Lando’s presence, but he turned to face you again. “There is a rehearsal tonight, but tomorrow-”

“We have plans for tomorrow." Lando interrupted, bringing you closer to him with his hand still gripping your thigh. “Don’t we?” He said, looking at you.

You looked back at him, slightly blushing at your boyfriend’s actions. “Yeah, sorry… uh”

“Joe”

“Right, Joe,” you repeated, giving him a friendly smile “Sorry, Joe.”

“Good luck being alone at the wedding though." Lando wasn’t trying to be friendly at all; if anything, he just wanted him to stop hitting on you and leave immediately. “See you around, mate.”

Joe looked at you, as if he were asking you for confirmation to leave. “I’ll see you back at the office,” you said, waving him goodbye.

Joe sighed loudly as he started to walk away, and Lando smiled proudly and kissed your temple.

“Wow, I knew you were jealous, but I didn’t think you were that jealous," you whispered, placing your hand on top of his.

“I’m not,” he frowned his eyebrows as if he was being falsely accused. “We’re just really busy.”

He stared at you with eyes full of... anger? You weren’t sure, but you knew for a fact that he’d be leaving marks on your thigh if he kept gripping you like that.

“You know I would’ve said no, right? You didn’t have to scare him off like that.”

“We’re leaving.” Was all he replied, taking his hand away as he closed your laptop, standing up and walking away from where you were sitting.

You tried to follow him, but he was walking so quick he was already waiting in the car when you got there. You let out a sigh as you opened the door, sitting beside him as you tried to think of something you could say to get his mind off what just happened.

“So, it’s a sprint weekend. You haven’t done one of those in a while.”

But he barely let out a sound at your words, at least acknowledging that you were talking to him but not caring enough to say something back. That’s how it was for the rest of the ride back to the hotel, you trying to talk about anything and him just grunting, and by the way he was gripping the stearing wheel, you knew he wouldn’t let this go any time soon.

Once he parked the car, he got out and waited for you a few seconds to collect your things and be next to him, grabbing your hand tightly as he guided you to the elevator and back to your room, and as soon as you were inside, he dropped your hand and found a seat on the small couch that was placed next to the hotel bed, staring at you as if he was waiting for you to apologise for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“Lando, let’s not do this, please. I would have never in a million years accepted to go with him, even if you weren’t there-”

“On your knees.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief after a few seconds of silence as he unbuckled his trousers and pushed them down until they were pooling on his ankles.

“You heard me, go on.” 

You slowly made your way there, watching him as he slowly pumped his length. At this point, you weren’t even thinking clearly anymore, and doing as he said just came naturally to you, so you dropped to your knees once you were in front of him, swallowing harshly when he motioned his head towards his angry cock.

Not thinking twice, you took him in your mouth and started working on it, knowing teasing him right now was far from a good idea. 

“Why don’t you take some more, love?” He said as he quickly took a hold of your hair, pushing your head down his shaft.

You could really feel his size because of the stretch your mouth feels, which you always did, but given the situation, it somehow felt more prominent. Your cheeks were hollowing around him, and one of your hands was wrapped around his base as your other one gripped his thigh, nails digging into his tanned skin.

“You know you are mine, right?” He asked you in a shaky tone. “No other guys but me should be thinking about talking to you, asking you to be their date- ah- only I get to have you like this, so pretty with your mouth around my cock.”

You let out a moan at his words, secretly loving this side of your boyfriend, and the vibrations made him let out another moan as he used his grip on your hair to guide your movements.

“No one else will ever see you like this, right, baby?” You tried and failed to nod your head; you didn’t even have control anymore, you were just trying to follow what Lando was silently instructing you to do.

His hold was getting tighter as you sucked his crown, which made him let out the deepest moan you have ever heard from him as his fingers tightened even more, unintentionally bucking his hips up once. You gagged around his cock, taking it gracefully as mascara tears rolled down your face.

“Shit, I could have you like this at all times. You are doing so good, angel.” His words were breathy and full of bliss as he got closer and closer to his release.

The way his cock twitched inside you and his thighs tensed under your hand made you know he was seconds away, the echoes of his moans bouncing off the walls as he started thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting deep inside your throat. With one last hit, you felt his hot cum filling your mouth, some of it smearing on the sides as you happily swallowed all of it, making you slow your movements down with his hand.

When he started to catch his breath, he pulled your head off his cock, dropping your hair and patting his lap so you would sit there, which you immediately obeyed.

“Why don’t you quit that stupid job so I don’t have to worry about assholes like him hitting on you?” Lando’s hands were roaming your thighs, slightly parting them as his hand sneaked into your underwear. 

Your breath hitched when his fingers explored your folds, finally landing on your clit with an insane pressure. He started rubbing hard circles, his mouth so close to your neck you could feel his hot breath.

“You are mine.” A moan scaped your lips at this. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, all yours.” 

As soon as you said this, one of his fingers entered your desperate hole, quickly finding a pace for you. He was desperate to make you come, and you knew he would get it within minutes if he kept playing with you like this.

Lando found a place on your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin as he dipped a second finger inside you. “You think anyone else could make you feel this good? Mhm?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers gripping his thighs.

“Good.”

You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or his words, but your stomach was quickly building up that familiar feeling as your hips started moving against his hand, making him use one more finger as you completely lost yourself in pleasure.

“Lando- fuck.”

“That’s it. Cum for me, love.”

His teeth were niping the skin on your shoulder, and only seconds before your orgasm hit you, you let out a loud moan, making him smile as he somehow fastened his pace.

With a few more pumps, a wave of bliss travelled through your body, your head falling back and into his shoulder as he helped you through your orgasm. At this point, your body had stopped moving, and all you could do was moan and squirm under his touch.

“‘s too much,” you managed to say.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” 

“Say you are mine.”

“I’m- ah- I’m yours, Lando, only yours. Shit” You complied as a string of moans scaped your parted lips.

“Good girl,” he said, finally taking his hand away from your sensitive pussy and kissing you, slow and possessive as one of his fingers cleaned the cum that was still on the side of your mouth. “Now, let’s get you changed. We’re going to dinner.” Lando softly pushed you off his lap, standing up as he pulled his trousers back up. “Oh, and make sure to wear that black dress I love so much.”

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[azsazz]

Cold Shoulder (Part 2)

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Cold Shoulder pt 2 please 😫😫 I’m a sucker for jealous Az 😫😫

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3234

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins Sprinkles of Luck and Doubt Cold Shoulder (Part 1)

_________________________________________

Azriel thought that he was stubborn, but you’re giving him a run for his gods-damned money.

You’ve been avoiding him, which is a feat considering both of your practices overlap and that they’re held in the same building. It really shouldn’t be all that hard to run into you, unless you’re actively avoiding him.

Which, he gets. He was an utter asshole to you the last time you saw each other. He hasn’t stopped thinking about that evening for more reasons than one. The way your nipples piqued under his attention and goosebumps rolled across your flesh just from the sight of him. That raw, brutal affection in your eyes that had locked him under your spell. The way you were drenched in warm water pouring from the shower spout, the liquid running down each delicate curve of your body. He never thought he could be envious of water until that very moment. He had wanted to indulge, to reach out and trace those same lines, and he did. He did until his mind had caught up with him and realization sunk in. How he’d snuck into the women’s locker room to see you ten minutes before he was supposed to leave for one of the most important games of the Bats’ season.

Girls are the last thing he’s supposed to be focusing on this year.

Still, Azriel shouldn’t have allowed his fears to consume him. All it took was a single tug at that thread and he fucking unraveled like a spool rolling down a hill. How he couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend, replaying how your face had fallen when he all but rejected you, when he’s the one that had sought you out. He feels like a fucking prick, doing that to you under the worst circumstances possible.

When he scored a goal, he’d look up into the stands, searching for your smiling face, before quickly realizing that you weren’t even in the same state, not that he’d expect you to cheer him on after what he had done. The high from gaining a point for his team quickly withered at the reminder.

And now you’re playing hard to get. You were the first person he sought out after arriving back to campus with the team. He couldn’t find you anywhere. Not at the rink the four different times he tried, not at your dorm, though, he couldn’t really be all too sure about that one because your roommates acted like Pitbulls, glaring him down at the door. You weren’t at the library or the athletic training rooms, not at your favorite bench in the commons.

It was like he had imagined you, and Azriel did wonder if he had finally gone crazy.

It isn’t until after practice one evening, when he’s actually considering leaving you alone after coach had reamed him out over how unfocused he’d been, that he sees you again.

Azriel spots you in the rink on his walk of shame back to the hockey house, his gear back thrown over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have it, it should be in the locker room, but he’s too far lost in his thoughts to realize it’s slung over his body, hitting the backs of his thighs when he walks.

Of course, he’d never be too engrossed in his thoughts to notice you.

You’re sitting on the bench, peering over the ice. There’s no one around, the arena is empty, and he takes a step closer without realizing it, drawn to you.

You’re thinking, that much he knows, because you haven’t spotted him yet and your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you chew on it. He wants to untuck it, swipe a thumb across it, kiss it.

He takes the time while you’re distracted with your own thoughts to shuffle closer. He’s drinking you in greedily, and his heart speeds in his chest, the air plunges from his lungs. It’s been so long since Azriel has seen you, he doesn’t realize how badly he’s needed this until this very moment. He’s pretty sure that his hands are shaking.

You look like an angel. Smothered in a sweatshirt that he recognizes as his. Fuck, his cock aches at the sight. You haven’t completely cut him from your life. He might stand a fucking chance for your forgiveness after all.

He follows the musculature of your legs in your black leggings, down to where your leg warmers are scrunched over your calf as you tug your ice skates on.

It’s when you shove back the sleeves of his sweatshirt that he sees the compression brace wrapped around your wrist.

Azriel frowns deeply.

You’re hurt.

A swell of emotions bubbles in his chest. It’s a combination of panic and fury. Panic because he hadn’t been here when you were injured. Fury because whoever had a hand is this is going to face his wrath.

Azriel makes his presence known, but he’s too wound up to apologize for startling you. He adds it to the list of things he needs to grovel for. “You shouldn’t be skating while you’re hurt.”

Your mouth parts in shock at his sudden appearance. Without your permission, your gaze flickers his way. Gods, does he look delectable in his post-practice sweats. It’s always been a weakness of yours, to see Azriel dressed like this, and you have to forcefully remove your gaze from his heated hazel ones, remind yourself that you’re angry with him, and that you’re trying to practice.

You refrain from telling him that you’ve been skating just fine since the night he left you in the shower stall with your dignity and heart on the floor.

“It’s only a grade two sprain,” you finally huff, pulling your laces tight. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you smother the wince you want to hiss out when the motion tugs uncomfortably at your injured hand.

You’ve never been prone to injury. In fact, tearing your ACL was your first serious injury ever, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. You did everything you could to get back to the sport that you loved; physical therapy, training in ways that wouldn’t put too much stress on your knee, keeping to your meal plans and schedule, and in no time, you were back out on the ice, reveling in the rush again.

“You could hurt yourself even more,” Azriel says gruffly, and the sound of his hockey bag falling to the floor is startling, but not as startling as it is when he crouches down in front of you to tie your laces for you. It reminds you all too much of the day you spent together at the rink when you traded skates. Your heart surges painfully in your chest.

You keep your eyes averted from him because if you meet those molten eyes of his, you’re going to allow him to escort you back to your dorm and help you relax with his body against yours.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, but allow him to finish tying your laces for you. So thoughtful, even after whatever the both of you shared went to hell. You keep an eagle-eye on his fingers as he works, just in case he does decide to take them off instead.

Fucking stubborn, indeed.

“If you fall, you could—”

“Thanks, Azriel,” you bite, pulling your skate from his grasp as soon as the tie is knotted. “But I don’t need a lecture.”

You shove to your feet, taking off your hoodie and shoving it over your shoulders. It the only thing you could find of his, and although it no longer smells like him, it’s been a comfort nonetheless. Now’s the time to give back the last piece of the short-lived, un-named relationship you and Azriel shared, except when you offer it to him, he refuses to take it.

Pain flashes through his eyes when you shove the balled-up fabric at him again. You avoid his gaze, breathing shallowly and forcing yourself not to think too hard about the tears prickling your eyes or the way your nose tingles with emotion. Can’t he see that him being here is hurting you? You just want him to take it for fuck’s sake, take it and leave because this hurts more than any sprain ever could.

You don’t need his worries, especially not when he wasn’t worrying about how he left you feeling in the locker room, or the days that followed. What you need is to be out on the ice warming up because that’s exactly where your coach wants you.

Azriel’s jaw clicks with how quickly his mouth snaps shut. You’re pretty sure that he’s grinding his teeth, but you don’t look back to examine how irritated he is. He might almost be as irritated you were when he showed up to your practice the other day and started calling Eris names. “Fine,” he responds in an uncompromising tone. There’s a sound of another zipper and you really don’t want to look but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, halting in your tracks. Azriel’s doing exactly what you thought he might be doing, pulling his skates out of his bag. He kicks his shoes off and plants himself in the spot on the bench that you just occupied.

“If you’re going to refuse to rest,” he grunts, shoving his foot into his skate. When he bends over and reaches for his laces, your eyes are glued to the ways his muscles contract. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you respond harshly, ignoring the way that your stomach flutters at the sentiment. And he thinks that you’re the stubborn one, when he just got out of practice and instead of going home, he’s lacing up again.

You even cross your arms over your chest for extra emphasis, but Azriel’s too focused on tying his skates.

“No,” he agrees, though you see that he doesn’t mean it. Of course, he’s not trying to be a babysitter to you, he’s using this as the perfect excuse he’s been looking for a week. Plus, he really doesn’t want you hurting yourself. “But if you’re going to be this headstrong about skating with an injury,” he stands to his full height and moves closer to you until you’re nearly chest to chest. You have to crane your head back to continue to glare up at him. “Then I’m to accompany you. Besides, I don’t see your partner here.”

“He’s on his way,” you bite back. It’s a bold-faced lie. You have no idea where Eris is at all, but it’s the only weapon you have left in your arsenal.

You need Azriel to leave. It was easy to hold this grudge over him whilst not having to look into those soft hazel eyes. You’ve thought about nothing but him in the time since, and even though he’s hurt you, it’s not beyond repair. If anything, you want an explanation more than an apology, because you saw the battle behind his eyes that day in the locker room, the realization of something striking, and causing him to freak out in his own stoic, frigid way, and for him to walk away.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitches and your stomach clenches. You want to see that self-assured smirk, even if you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Then you won’t mind if I stay until he arrives?” Azriel asks. It sounds more like a taunt.

His breath flutters your eyelashes. You didn’t even realize how close you were standing.

You force your shoulders into a shrug. It’s difficult to turn away from the warmth of his body. “Do whatever you want,” you mumble, gliding out over the ice.

You wring your fingers together. It’s not like you can call Eris and have him race over here to practice. He could be studying, he could be hanging out with friends, at a bar, and you’re not close enough to where you feel like you can ask for a favor without owing him something in return. You may be paired with him while you’re on the mend and getting your head straight, but you’re definitely not the best of friends just yet.

You hear Azriel’s skates hit the ice and you’re reminded of that last time you were here together, learning how to handle a stick and puck while he attempted twizzles that make you laugh so hard your stomach ached.

He catches up easily and neither of speak. You don’t give him the chance to because as soon as he opens his mouth to apologize, you’re increasing your speed into a few warm up laps.

Azriel doesn’t follow and there’s a sting in your chest. You didn’t want him to follow, not really, you tell yourself. You just figured that he would.

You dare a glance at him when you’re on the other side of the rink. His hands are stuffed deeply in his pockets and he’s gliding across the ice in a leisurely pace, like he’s taking an easy stroll down the sidewalk. Skating is second nature to him, he doesn’t even have to think about it, which is perfect because he’s trying to figure out a way to apologize to you.

When you’re about to lap him, Azriel gains speed. He twists around easily so that he’s skating backwards in front of you. If he didn’t look sexy before, he sure as hell does now, staring you down with big, hazel eyes and skating backwards like he knows the exact length of the ice and when to turn.

It makes heat grow low in your belly the longer he stares at you, how easily he adapts when you speed up just a little bit more.

“Why are you here?” You ask, the first to break the silence. There’s nothing but the chill of the ice and the sound of your skates grinding against it. It’s your solace, but you might think Azriel is becoming a part of that, too, with the way your tense shoulders melt under his gaze.

“I want to apologize to you again.” Azriel slows just enough so that you’re skating only a foot away from each other. You stumble at his sudden nearness, and he catches you around the arms before you can fall, keeping you upright.

“You don’t need to, Azriel,” you avoid his gaze, mortified at the way your cheeks heat at his touch. You curse yourself. You shouldn’t have chosen today to crawl out of your dorm room to practice. “You’ve made it more than clear how you feel.”

“I don’t feel that way, though,” he vehemently responds, shaking his head. He squeezes your arms, emphasizing his words, and when you glance down at his fingers, he reluctantly lets you go, stuffing those marred hands right back into his pockets.

Your heart aches at the motion.

I want you all of the time, too. The words replay in your head. Moments right before he went back on his words, backed out of the shower stall, and disappeared without a trace.

They hurt, and the soft look on Azriel’s face tells you that he meant every single one of those words when he told you them. You don’t know what it is that made him retreat directly following.

When you don’t answer, Azriel continues. “I want you, sweetheart. I want you so fucking badly that it hurts.” Your breath catches in your chest at his honesty. You wanted him, too, still do, but you’re more confused than ever. How can he have gone from wanting you to completely shunning you, to this?

“I don’t understand,” you whisper. You didn’t even notice that the both of you have slowed down until you come to a stop at the gate that leads back to your things. If you wanted, you could slip right off the ice and be out of the rink in minutes. You swallow harshly at the thought of leaving Azriel like he left you.

He’s nervous, you can tell. He digs the tip of his skate into the ice, but he doesn’t break your gaze. “I was a fucking idiot for what I did to you. I’m sorry that I got in my head about what was happening between us, but I just couldn’t deal. It all hit me in that moment, how much I need you.” He chews his lip, thinking of what he wants to say next. “I told myself that I need to focus this year. There are scouts watching, coach is on my ass about playing my best, my dad’s on my ass about being the best on the team, hell, I’m on my own ass trying to keep everyone happy. But I didn’t realize until I left you like that that the person I wasn’t keeping the person that I care about the happiest.” Your heart swells as his eyes soften.

Azriel slides closer in a tentative push, and you let him. “I wasn’t keeping you happy by walking away. I thought space might help us focus better on what we’re trying to accomplish this year, with you getting back into skating after your injury and me trying to impress recruiters. Fuck, I wasn’t even making myself happy…” He trails off with a sad smile.

Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that it hurts. You shuffle closer to Azriel until you’re only inches away. You tilt your head back to see his face better.

“What makes you happy, Azriel?” You whisper, fearful that his answer might break you into pieces.

He lifts a hand and caresses your face. His hazel eyes are locked on yours, and the small smile that tugs at his lips makes you want to roll up onto the tips of your blades and kiss the daylights out of him.

“You make me happy, sweetheart,” he confesses, and you shatter. “And if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have walked away from you. And if you give me a second chance, I’ll never walk away from you again.”

“Azriel,” you can’t help but laugh. It sounds wet, and no, those aren’t tears in your eyes. “You can have both. I feel the same way sometimes, that I’m spending too much of my spare time doing anything other than skating, but I’ve made peace with the fact that it’s okay to want other things. It’s okay to still follow your passions while wanting other things. It’s okay to recover,” you breathe, letting your own words sink in. You don’t want to be here right now; you forced yourself here on a weekend night to get your mind off of a certain someone. But he’s found you all the same.

“So, you’re giving me another chance?” He asks innocently. His eyes are screaming anything but. They’re heated with the ideas of all the things he wants to do to you now that you’re back in his arms.

You hum thoughtfully, teasingly. “I don’t know, I think there’s a few things you’re going to have to do before I can actually forgive you, Az.”

His shoulders fall in relief at the use of his nickname. He doesn’t care what you’ll make him do. He’d do anything for you. “Name your price, sweetheart.”

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13 @sunny1616 @lilylilyyyyyy

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Stuck in the Moment

Fandom: Marvel (CEO AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It was just supposed to be a regular day at work. But a huge storm hit the city. The power goes out and you're stuck inside the elevator with an incredibly attractive man. So with nothing else to do, you two get to know each other while waiting to be rescued.

A/N: technically, CEO's son AU but whatever

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You quickly close your umbrella and rush inside. Even with the umbrella and a raincoat, you're still partially drenched.

A storm has hit the city. You hear the occasional roar of thunder and flash of lightning, raindrops pelting against the pavement and windows of your work building.

You flash your badge and walk through security. You shoot a smile to Stan, one of the older security guards, "Keeping warm, Stan?"

"As best as I can, Y/N!" he replies, zipping up his jacket further up towards his neck.

You gather with the group of people in front of the elevators. Two doors open, and people start filing in. Both elevators fill up quick, so you decide to hang back and wait for the next one.

You hear someone approach you and they sigh. A soothing, deep voice follows, "Jeez. Did not mentally prepare myself for this much rain."

You turn your head, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. The owner of the voice is as handsome as he sounds. You chuckle and quickly look away, "I know. Even with my umbrella and raincoat, I still wasn't as prepared for this storm."

"I forgot an umbrella hence," he gestures to his drenched suit jacket.

You snort, "Gotta keep a small, compact one with you at all times around this time of year. Never know when a storm will happen."

"Definitely going to follow your advice," he says with a grin.

The elevator door nearest you opens and he gestures, "After you."

"Thanks," you reply, stepping inside and the handsome man filing in behind you. You press the fifth button while he presses the eleventh.

You can't help but comment, "You must be a high profile person if you're going to the top."

The man shyly shrugs, "I suppose," he nods to the fifth button, "You're in the marketing department?"

"Yup. I'm part of the social media team."

"Ah. You guys get to have all the fun."

You giggle, "It's not all fun, but, yeah, we do like-"

The elevator slows, but not because it's approaching your floor. The light's flicker and the elevator creaks to a halt. Your body sways at the stop. The lights flicker again and then you're engrossed in darkness.

You groan out in annoyance, "Oh come on!"

The man with you takes out his phone and turns the flash on. He faces it to the ceiling, illuminating the elevator, "You okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Same," he sighs, "Guess the storm created a power outage. Might be some time until the power comes back or until we're rescued."

"Great."

Your phone starts to buzz and you pull it out of your bag. You answer it, "Kate?"

"Hey! Are you at work already 'cause looks like the entire building is experiencing a power outage."

"Yuuup and I was unfortunate enough to be riding the elevator when the power went out."

"Shit. Okay, what floor are you on?"

"I think we're in-between three and four."

"Oh good, you're not alone!"

"Nope. I'm with-" you pause, and look to the man, "Sorry, I never got your name."

"Bucky."

"Hey, Bucky. I'm Y/N. I'd say 'nice to meet you' but I wouldn't call our current situation 'nice'"

He chuckles, "I get it and likewise."

"Who the hell is Bucky? I've never heard of a Bucky before."

"Not now, Kate. Anyway, I should probably save as much of my phone battery as possible. Keep me updated on the power and such."

"Will do! Stay safe and don't die!"

You snort, "I'll try not to." You end the call and look back at Bucky.

"Since you're probably like an executive or something, do you happen to have contact to any other higher ups about this power outage?"

He nods and gestures to his phone, "Getting several text messages from people. I've let them know we're stuck here and they've already contacted the fire department. But considering the storm and everything, might take them a while to get here."

"So guess we have to get comfortable," you set your bag down and slip off your raincoat. You set it on the floor and sit on it. Bucky looks at you with a cocked brow and you shrug, "What? The floor's wet!"

Bucky chuckles to himself and finds a dry spot in the corner. He slides down the wall to sit on the floor, "So, Y/N from Marketing, tell me your life story." You look at him confused and he shrugs, "Might as well get to know each other since we might be stuck here for a while."

______________________________

Within the first hour, learn that Bucky is the eldest sibling and he has a younger sister. His best friends are named Steve and Sam. He's a huge nerd that loves Star Wars and Star Trek. He went to Columbia University to study business, which is why he's now working here.

You told him about your childhood, that you and your best friend, Yelena, moved to the city for school and ended up staying. You express your passion for social media marketing and, ultimately, how you ended up working for Barnes Co., thanks to Yelena's sister, Nat.

"How long have you been working here?" Bucky asks you.

"It's going to be my two year anniversary in a few months."

Bucky slowly nods, "Can't believe you've been here for two years and I've never seen you around."

You give him a shrug, "It's a big building. Lots of people work here. Besides, you work with the higher ups, so I doubt you'd even see me around."

You take this moment to look over him with the minimal lighting you have. He clearly makes a lot of money from what you can tell. His shoes and suit are obviously designer. Hugo Boss or Armani or something. His watch is definitely a Rolex and probably costs more than your entire life.

Bucky shakes his head, "I know, but I do try my best to get to know everyone who works here. The company is what it is because of everyone who works here, not just the CEO, CFOs, and executives."

"That's nice to hear, Bucky. I mean, I knew that this company really values its employees, but to hear someone close to the top say so, is really reassuring."

He shyly chuckles, "Well, uh, yeah, um," he clears his throat, "So, uh, you seeing anyone?" he winces at how unsmooth that came out.

But you chuckle, "Are you asking me out?"

"Me? No, no. Just, ya know, we talked about our childhood, our jobs, only topic we haven't hit is our love lives. Besides, it'll probably a little bit longer until we're rescued. They're working on getting the people on the first two floors out first." Bucky does his best to be as nonchalant as possible and you find it so adorable. You never expected a guy like him to be a little shy.

"Riiiight. Well, I've dated, been in a few relationships, but nobody's really stuck around for long. Kind of getting tired of the whole dating game, so haven't really put much thought into relationships lately. What about you?"

He nervously rubs the back of his neck, "I, uh, hate to say that I dated around a lot when I was younger. Not super proud of myself for that. But as I grew older, started wanting a more stable relationship. Was in one for a long time with a woman. Thought we were going to get married and everything, but then I found out she stuck around because of my growing wealth so-"

"Yikes."

"Yeah. Went back to dating and sleeping around and it got old again quicker than before. I guess I'm kind of like you, focusing on myself and work. Doing my best to just survive in the world."

You slowly nod, "Well, what a pair we make, huh? I mean, look at us," you gesture to yourself and him, "Stuck in an elevator, sharing our life stories, getting to know each other. Honestly, thought a situation like this would be so much worse, but I'm glad it was you that got stuck with me in this situation."

Bucky laughs, "Same here."

"Buck?" you hear a muffled voice from the other side of the elevator doors.

"Dad?!"

"Yeah, you guys okay in there?"

"We're okay!"

"Good! The fire department's here. They're getting you guys out. Just hang tight!"

"Not like we can go anywhere!" Bucky replies and you laugh. He grins at you as you wait for the doors to pry open.

______________________

The entire building was evacuated. Several people stayed back to make sure everyone was safe. Nat and Kate stayed in the lobby waiting for you to be rescued.

When you exited the stairs door, they rushed over to you.

"Holy shit, are you okay?!"

"Yeah. Me and Bucky just hung out that entire time," you gesture to the man who follows behind you.

Nat looks over your shoulder and her eyes widen, "You were stuck in the elevator with James Barnes?"

"James?" you turn to face Bucky as he approaches you, "I thought your name is Bucky."

He nervously clears his throat, "Uh, well, kinda. Technically, my name is James Buchanan Barnes, but those closest to me call me Bucky."

Your realization has your eyes widen and you take a step back, "You're George Barnes' son."

He sheepishly waves, "Hi."

"Well...that's...cool." You didn't know what to say, honestly. You're a little surprised by the reveal. You quickly go through the info that Bucky shared with you in the elevator shaft. He never mentioned his dad or anything that could hint at the position he holds. He deliberately held that info from you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Bucky says with a guilty expression on his face.

You shake your head, "No, it's-it's fine. I mean, I knew you worked a high position but didn't think...that high."

He snorts, "Yeah, um, I just hope you don't see me differently."

"Not at all. I met you as Bucky, the sci-fi nerd who sucks at flirting, so that's how I see you."

"Sucks at flirting? Yeesh, guess that's what happens when I haven't dated in a while."

You laugh, "Happens to the best of us."

"Son, you ready?" George Barnes approaches Bucky.

"Yeah," he nods to his dad and looks back at you, "See you around, Y/N."

"See ya," you give him a small wave and turn back to Kate and Nat. They look at you like you grew another head, "What?"

"The son of George Barnes, James Barnes, son of the CEO of Barnes Co., was flirting with you?!"

You scoff, "I wouldn't really say he was flirting with me. More like attempting to flirt. It doesn't matter. Not like he'd actually want to date someone like me," you shrug it off and pull on your raincoat, "Ready to go?"

_____________________

Everyone was working from home the following day to ensure that the building was safe to occupy when the power came back.

The weather is still poor but not as bad as the day before. Still, you decide to step outside, choosing a cafe to work from rather than your shared apartment with Yelena.

You’re answering emails while sipping on a warm beverage when you get a new message on Slack from James Barnes:

JB: You’re looking cozy over there in your corner.

You immediately look around and spot him on the opposite side of the cafe. When your eyes meet his, he gives a wave. He quickly gathers his things and you keep your eyes on him as he moves across the cafe to your table.

“May I join you?”

“If you’d like.”

He sits across from you and you lower your laptop screen, “Not gonna lie, kinda creepy that you did that, Barnes.”

He shyly shrugs, “I guess I really do need to brush up on my flirting hm?”

You giggle, “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

“Maybe I can practice with you?”

You give him a coy look, “I guess you can.”

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: CHASING FOREVER

paige x azzi

word count: 7.5k

A/N: This is just something cute to start the week off because I might be a little busy this week!! A couple of people requested a one shot of them in the future so this is my attempt at that.

—————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi had been best friends since they were teenagers, long before they ever set foot on UConn’s campus. Their bond had always been special, the kind of connection that felt easy from the jump, but somewhere along the way, friendship turned into something more. By the time they were dominating college basketball together, they weren’t just two stars—they were each other’s everything.

Winning a championship at UConn in 2025 was supposed to be their peak but their lives together were just getting started. The WNBA draft forced them to figure each other out more. Paige was taken first overall by the Dallas Wings, the future of their franchise, while Azzi landed with the Washington Mystics that same year, a dream come true for the hometown kid. It was exciting, but it was also a little heartbreaking. They were used to spending everyday together, sharing everything—practices, late-night talks, the weight of everything together with the other by their side. Then they were in different cities, on different teams, with different schedules.

For two seasons, they made the distance work. Texts, FaceTimes, and living together in the offseason and playing unrivaled together kept them connected, but it wasn’t enough. Paige tried to convince herself she could handle it, but the truth was, she couldn’t imagine building her future with Azzi from halfway across the country. She didn’t want to go half the year being away from the woman she loved anymore.

Requesting a trade and being adamant it was to Washington wasn’t an easy decision. Paige knew what it would look like. She wasn’t just any player—she was the former ROY, an Allstar, one of the centerpieces of a team that had just made it to the semi-finals. She knew there’d be backlash, that the media would question her loyalty, maybe even call her selfish. But none of that mattered to her. Azzi mattered. She always had. And Paige wasn’t going to let fear or criticism from people who didn’t know her stop her from choosing the person she loved more than anything in the world.

Present Day

The final buzzer echoed through Capital One Arena, signaling the end of the game: Mystics 78, Sky 70. The crowd erupted in cheers as the team playfully celebrated another win. After being ushered by the media personnel Paige and Azzi walked off the court, exchanging a quick smile before heading to the press room.

Now seated at the long table, microphones in front of them, the two of them fielded the usual postgame questions.

“Azzi, you really took over in the fourth quarter with those back-to-back threes. Can you talk about what was going through your mind in those moments?”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I was just focused on staying in rhythm. Aaliyah and Shakira set some good screens, and I knew if I got the ball in my spots it was as simple as shooting in rhythm.”

“Paige,” another reporter chimed in, “you had a double-double tonight and were pretty dominant on the defensive end. How does it feel to be able to make such an impact on both sides of the floor?”

Paige leaned forward slightly. “Defense has always been something I take a lot of pride in. Azzi and I talked before the game about how we needed to lock down their guards, especially in transition, and I think we executed that really well as a team tonight.”

Another hand shot up. “This team has been on fire lately, winning six in a row. What do you think is clicking for you right now?”

Azzi glanced at Paige, letting her take this one. Paige smiled, shaking her head slightly used to Azzi’s interview antics at this point. “I think it’s just trust. We’re trusting each other, moving the ball, and staying disciplined on defense. Everyone knows their role, and when we play like that, we’re tough to beat.”

As the questions kept coming, Paige and Azzi fell into an easy rhythm. Years of playing together had made them naturals at complementing each other in every space they were in. Paige handled the deep technical breakdowns, always more of a nerd when it came to basketball, while Azzi added lighthearted quips that explained what Paige’s complicated breakdowns meant that drew quiet chuckles from the room.

It was in the middle of another question—one about the chemistry on the court of the young winning team who had a lot of noise surrounding them about being contenders—when a tiny voice cut through the air:

“Mommy!”

Both of their heads turned instantly, their attention snapping toward the sound like a reflex. Standing off to the side with one of the team managers was their daughter, Aliana, her custom Mystics jersey fitting her perfectly. Her curls were slightly messy, and her big, brown eyes—an exact replica of Azzi’s—were wide with impatience.

Azzi laughed softly, her expression melting. “One second, baby. Mommy’s almost done,” she said gently, her tone completely different from the way she was talking with the reporters.

Aliana’s lip jutted out in a pout, and Paige, never able to resist her soft spot for her daughter that looked exactly like her wife, sighed quietly. “Come here,” she said, her arms outstretched.

Aliana didn’t hesitate, rushing forward as fast as her little legs could carry her. Paige scooped her up, settling the toddler into her lap. Aliana immediately tucked her face into Paige’s neck, her tiny hands gripping her mom’s jersey for comfort.

The reporters murmured and smiled at the unexpected moment, some of them jotting down notes while others simply watched the family interaction. Paige adjusted the microphone slightly and continued answering questions, as if having a toddler nestled against her was the most natural thing in the world.

Throughout the rest of the press conference, Aliana stayed quiet, her big eyes peeking out from Paige’s shoulder as she watched Azzi’s every movement. The look of pure adoration on her face didn’t go unnoticed by the reporters, or by Paige, who couldn’t help but smile.

When the session finally wrapped up, Aliana started to squirm, her little arms reaching toward Azzi. Azzi took her without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, baby girl,” she murmured.

As the three of them began walking toward the locker room, Aliana’s excitement bubbled over as she was finally able to talk to her parents. “Mommy, Mama! You both did so good!” she exclaimed, her tiny hands clutching Azzi’s jersey.

Azzi smiled down at her, gently correcting, “We played well, sweetheart. But thank you.”

Paige rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Az, she’s three. I don’t think she cares about grammar right now.”

Aliana tilted her head curiously. “What’s...gramma, mama?”

Paige smirked, exchanging a playful glance with Azzi. “See? Exactly my point.”

Azzi chuckled, adjusting Aliana in her arms. “Grammar is something we’ll talk about later. But for now, what was your favorite part of the game?”

Aliana’s eyes lit up. “When you made the big basket! And then everweone clapped so loud!”

“That’s because she’s a sharpshooter baby,” Paige said. She reached over to brush her fingers through Aliana’s curls. “What about Mama? Did you see my block in the second quarter?”

Aliana gasped as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh! I saw it! You were so tall, Mama! The other lady was like—” She mimicked someone getting blocked, throwing her hands in the air dramatically before collapsing back into Azzi’s arms with a giggle.

Paige laughed, her chest warming at the sight. “Exactly! They tried to say I wasn’t a shot blocker. Can you believe that?.”

Azzi grinned, jumping in to tease Paige. “But who was it that tipped the ball back to you to finish your highlight?”

Paige smirked, her tone matching Azzi’s. “Oh, you mean your assist? Don’t worry, sexy, we’ll make sure your highlight reel is just as good as mine.”

Aliana, not quite following the playful banter but enjoying the energy, threw her hands in the air. “Mommy and Mama are the best ever!”

Paige and Azzi both laughed as they reached the locker room. Azzi pressed a kiss to Aliana’s forehead, her heart full as she looked between her wife and daughter.

“You know what?” Azzi said, shifting Aliana slightly so Paige could open the locker room door. “She might be right.”

Paige grinned as she held the door open for them. “Can’t argue with that.”

…

After a quick clean-up in the locker room and changing into their clothes, they were finally ready to head out. At the car, Paige buckled Aliana into her car seat, making sure everything was secure while Azzi put their bags in the trunk. They both closed their respective doors at the same time and turned toward each other, smiling as their eyes met.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to pause, the two of them always taking time for just one another in their hectic lives. Without a word, they stepped closer, and Azzi’s arms slid up to wrap around Paige’s neck. Their kiss was slow and lingered for some time as they sighed into each other.

The sound of tiny hands knocking on the window broke their spell. It was barely audible, but they both heard it. Azzi turned her head, laughing softly as Paige glanced over her shoulder. The tented windows of her car made it hard to see inside, but they both knew who it was.

“Guess we’ve got an audience,” Paige murmured with a chuckle, reluctantly stepping back.

Azzi grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down Paige’s arm and squeezing her hand before letting go. “She’s impatient, just like her mother,” she teased.

Paige rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help smiling. She opened the passenger door for Azzi, who slid in with a quiet “Thank you,” before making her way to the driver’s side.

As Paige climbed into the car and started the engine, Aliana’s little voice piped up from the backseat. “Are we going to get ice cream now?”

Paige glanced at Azzi, raising an eyebrow in silent amusement at their daughter’s never ending energy. Before Paige could say anything, Azzi turned toward the backseat, grinning. “How can we say no to that pretty face?” Azzi said, making the little girl smile.

Paige shook her head with a small laugh, glancing at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Ice cream it is,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as Aliana let out an excited squeal.

When they pulled up to the ice cream shop, Paige backed the car into a parking spot and immediately noticed the small crowd spilling outside of the shop. A few fans, still wearing Mystics jerseys with the numbers 5 and 35 displayed, were chatting animatedly and glancing at their phones as they ate their ice cream. Azzi followed Paige’s gaze and gave a soft sigh.

“You in the mood for interactions today?” Azzi asked, as she watched Paige look down and scroll through something on her phone.

Paige paused, letting out a small breath. “Not really,” she admitted, rubbing her temple briefly. “I have a bit of a headache so I’m looking for–” she was interrupted as Aliana’s excited voice rang out from the backseat.

“We’re here, we’re here!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she looked out the window.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. C’mon,” she said, giving Azzi a reassuring smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Azzi reached over to give Paige’s hand a quick squeeze. “Let me know if it gets too much,” she said, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face.

“I will,” Paige replied. “You worry too much.”

Azzi just smiled before stepping out of the car. Paige followed, walking to the backseat to unbuckle Aliana from her car seat. Their daughter immediately wrapped her small arms around Paige’s neck as Paige lifted her out, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Mama, hurry!” Aliana called to Azzi, who was near the open trunk of the car, adjusting her jacket.

“I’m coming bossy, I’m coming,” Azzi replied, laughing as she closed the trunk and joined them.

The three of them began walking toward the ice cream shop, hand in hand—Aliana happily swinging her legs as Paige carried her. Almost instantly, murmurs rippled through the small crowd outside as people recognized them. Phones came out, fans whispering excitedly to each other and pointing.

Paige leaned closer to Azzi and muttered under her breath, “Here we go.”

Azzi stifled a laugh, leaning slightly into Paige’s side as she whispered back, “You’re a people person, remember?”

“I said that one time,” Paige replied, rolling her eyes playfully. But she adjusted Aliana in her arms and smiled warmly at the fans as they approached, giving a small wave.

Fans immediately began to gather around them, their excitement clear as they approached the couple. A young girl wearing Paige’s #5 Mystics jersey held out a Sharpie. “Paige, can you sign this for me? You’re my favorite player ever!” she gushed, her voice trembling slightly with excitement.

Paige smiled warmly, shifting Aliana in her arms before taking the marker. “Of course. Thank you for coming to the game,” she said, as she quickly leaned down and scribbled her signature on the jersey.

The same fan asked for a picture so Paige handed Aliana off to Azzi so she could take a few pictures while Azzi signed things.

After a moment of this a teenage boy wearing Azzi’s #35 jersey held out his phone.

Azzi, can I get a picture with you? You’re a DMV legend, seriously!”

Azzi grinned, passing Aliana over to Paige and stepping closer to the boy. “Legend, huh? Big shoes to fill,” she joked, posing with him for a quick photo.

In Paige’s arms, Aliana giggled as she clung to her mom’s neck, watching the behavior of the fans curiously. After Azzi returned from taking a few pictures, Paige handed Aliana over, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Your turn,” Paige said with a playful smirk.

Aliana squealed happily as Azzi lifted her, settling her on her hip. A group of women in their twenties approached, each holding printed out action shots of Paige and Azzi. “You two are literally couple goals! Can we all get a picture of you together?” one of them asked excitedly.

Paige gave a polite smile, gesturing subtly toward Aliana. “We’d love to, but we’re keeping this one out of fan pictures for now,” she said, nodding at her daughter.

“Totally understandable, we can do single pictures if that’s ok” one of the women said, her tone genuine. “But you two are amazing together—on and off the court.”

“Thank you,” Azzi replied, her smile widening as Aliana reached up to mess with her hair, giggling again. “We appreciate you guys supporting us.”

The interactions continued for a few minutes, with fans asking for autographs and photos, Paige and Azzi trading Aliana back and forth every so often so she wouldn’t be in any random instagram pictures they couldn’t control. Each time they exchanged her, Aliana burst into giggles, delighted by the little game they seemed to be playing.

Eventually, Aliana leaned in close to Paige’s ear, her tiny fingers tugging at her mom’s face to push it towards her. “Mama, I want ice cream now,” she whispered.

Paige chuckled, nodding slightly before looking over at Azzi. “We’re on borrowed time with the princess here,” she said, flashing her wife a look.

Azzi turned to the fans with an apologetic smile. “Thanks so much, everyone, but we’ve got one very impatient ice cream lover here,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was now laying her head dramatically against Paige’s shoulder.

The fans laughed, stepping aside to let the family through. “Enjoy your ice cream!” one of them called out as Paige and Azzi finally made their way into the shop, Aliana perking up instantly at the sight of the brightly lit display of colorful scoops.

As soon as they reached the counter, Aliana wiggled excitedly in Paige’s arms, her big brown eyes lighting up as she pointed at the rainbow sprinkles on display. “Mommy, I want rainbow sprinkles!” she yelled with the kind of enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster.

Azzi laughed softly. “Whatever you want, baby girl,” she said warmly, glancing at Paige with a smile.

When they reached the front of the line, the teenage boy behind the counter greeted them with wide eyes, clearly recognizing Paige and Azzi. “Oh wow, you’re… uh, you’re Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd, right?” he stammered, barely able to keep his composure.

Paige smiled politely, nodding. “That’s us,” she said.

As the boy’s gaze lingered on Azzi a little too long, Paige subtly shifted closer to her, sliding her free arm around Azzi’s waist. Azzi smirked at the gesture, her eyes sparkling with amusement at Paige’s antics as she leaned into Paige slightly.

“What can I get for you?” the boy asked, his voice cracking just a bit as he tore his eyes away from Azzi and focused on the display.

Azzi laughed softly before answering. “We’ll take one vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles for her,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was practically bouncing in Paige’s arms. “And…” She glanced at Paige, raising an eyebrow. “What are you in the mood for, baby?”

Paige gave her a playful side-eye before turning to the boy. “Just a scoop of chocolate for me, in a cup.”

“And I’ll take a scoop of strawberry in a waffle cone,” Azzi added, her smirk widening as she glanced at Paige. “Anything else, love? Maybe some whipped cream for your jealousy?” she teased quietly for her to hear.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Just order the ice cream, Azzi,” she said, shaking her head as the boy quickly began preparing their order but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

Paige noticed, her eyes catching the way he fumbled slightly with the scoop in his hand, his gaze still lingering on Azzi a little too long for her liking.

Azzi, oblivious—or perhaps simply unfazed—continued speaking to Aliana. “Rainbow sprinkles, huh? Great choice, baby girl,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that made the boy freeze mid-motion.

Paige shifted her weight slightly, stepping closer to Azzi. As she did, her left hand casually rested on the counter, the silver band adorned with sparkling diamonds catching the light perfectly. She pretended to adjust her watch with her other hand, ensuring the boy’s eyes couldn’t miss the ring gleaming on her finger.

“Everything okay over there?” Paige asked as her gaze flicked to the boy, who quickly snapped back to attention.

“Oh—uh—yeah!” he stammered, now flustered as he scrambled to scoop Aliana’s ice cream. “Sorry, uh, what flavor did you want again?”

Azzi glanced at Paige out of the corner of her eye, biting back a smirk as she caught on to what was happening. “Vanilla,” she said smoothly. “With rainbow sprinkles, please.”

The boy nodded quickly, focusing entirely on the task at hand now. Meanwhile, Paige leaned a little closer to Azzi, her arm brushing against hers. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny how some people forget to focus on their job and not a pretty married woman.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, her hand instinctively resting on Paige’s lower back. “Jealous of a teenage boy, are we?” she teased quietly, glancing at Paige with a raised brow.

“Not jealous,” Paige replied, though the playfulness in her eyes betrayed her. “Just making sure everyone knows what’s off-limits.”

Azzi laughed at that, her own left hand rising to brush a stray hair from Pagie’s face, conveniently flashing her stacked engagement and wedding ring in the process. The hard to miss diamond caught the light, and the boy’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red as he hurriedly finished their order.

“Here you go!” he said, setting all the ice cream down on the counter. “Enjoy your day!”

“Thanks,” Paige said, her smile sweet but tinged with satisfaction as she took the cone and handed it to Aliana, who squealed in delight as Paige handed the boy a $50.

As they walked toward a nearby table, Azzi leaned into Paige, her voice low and teasing. “You’re ridiculous for being jealous of a teenage boy, you know that right?”

Paige grinned, slipping her arm around Azzi’s waist. “I wasn’t jealous. Just appalled.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing as they settled at their table.

As they sat in the booth, Aliana was perched comfortably on Azzi’s lap, her small hands carefully clutching her cone, she was completely engrossed in devouring her ice cream. Paige sat beside them, her arm draped over the back of the booth. She chuckled as she noticed ice cream starting to drip down Aliana’s chin.

“Hold still, baby girl,” Paige said, grabbing a napkin and leaning over to gently wipe Aliana’s face. “You’re making a mess.”

Azzi laughed softly, glancing at Paige as she swiped her spoon into Paige’s barely-touched bowl of ice cream. “You know, if you’re not going to eat this, I might as well.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Help yourself, thief. I didn’t realize you ordered two desserts.”

Azzi took a dramatic bite, savoring it. “What can I say? Your ice cream always tastes better than mine.”

“That’s because it’s mine,” Paige shot back. “If I wanted to share, I would’ve gotten a bigger bowl.”

Azzi shrugged, unbothered, and took another bite. “Guess you’ll just have to stop me then.”

Paige leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Azzi leaned in and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Paige’s smirk deepened as her eyes flicked down to Azzi’s lips licking her own. Azzi raised an eyebrow silently asking her what she was going to do about it. Before their game could escalate, a small voice broke through their moment.

“Mama... Mommy,” Aliana said, her voice drawing their attention. Both women turned to look at her, their teasing forgotten.

Aliana tilted her head up, her big brown eyes wide and innocent, her dimple peeking through as she smiled up at them. Her face was smeared with vanilla ice cream, and a tiny portion sat on the tip of her nose.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh as she reached out to gently swipe the ice cream from her daughter’s nose. “What is it, princess?”

Aliana grinned, holding up her sticky cone proudly. “This is the best ice cream ever!”

Azzi chuckled, pulling back her daughter’s curls into a ponytail so she wouldn’t get ice cream in her hair. “Yeah? You think so, huh?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her giggles bubbling as she looked between her moms. “But... I think you love each other more than ice cream.”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look, both breaking into warm laughter. Paige leaned over, pressing a kiss to Aliana’s sticky cheek. “You’re not wrong, pretty girl.”

Azzi smiled, wrapping her arms more securely around Aliana and resting her chin lightly on her daughter’s head. “But you’re our favorite, even more than ice cream.”

Aliana beamed, her dimple deepening. “Good! ’Cause I love you both more than ice cream too.”

Paige’s eyes widened in playful surprise, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned in closer. “Oh wow, that’s a big deal. You sure you can commit to that?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her face lighting up with pride. “You guys are my favorite-est!”

Azzi shook her head in amusement as she reached down to wipe Aliana’s face. “Ana, baby, you don’t have to add the -est at the end.”

Paige chuckled, her hand resting on Azzi’s as she teased, “Maybe she’s just really emphasizing it for dramatic effect.”

Aliana giggled, her little face scrunching up with the effort to understand. “I just really reawly love you guys!”

Paige smiled warmly, pulling Aliana closer to kiss the top of her head. “We really really love you too, princess.”

Azzi kissed the other side of Aliana’s head, her voice soft. “You’re our whole world, baby.”

Aliana snuggled into her moms, her ice cream temporarily forgotten, a happy contentment washing over her. “I love you soooo much,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

…

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Paige had just finished putting Aliana to bed while Azzi was in the shower, taking some extra time to wash her hair. The bathroom door opened, and steam flowed out as Azzi stepped into the bedroom, her hair still damp.

Paige, already sprawled out on the bed in her pajamas, let out a low, playful whistle. “Well, damn,” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Shut up hornball,” she muttered, though her tone was affectionate.

“Is she asleep?” Azzi asked, rubbing a towel through her curls as she made her way to the dresser.

Paige nodded, her eyes following Azzi’s every move. “Out like a light,” she replied, leaning back against the pillows.

Azzi finally tossed the towel aside and turned toward the bed. The warm glow from the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft light as she climbed onto the bed, settling herself over Paige to straddle her hips resting her hands on Paige’s stomach.

Paige’s gaze softened, her hands instinctively resting on Azzi’s waist. It always amazed Azzi how her wife looked at her as if she were the most breathtaking thing in the world, even after all these years.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence filled with a comfortable warmth as they took in each other’s presence after their long day. Then Azzi leaned down, her damp curls cascading to one side as her lips met Paige’s in a kiss.

Paige sighed into the kiss, her thumbs brushing lightly over the fabric of Azzi’s shirt where it rested on her hips. Azzi pulled back slightly, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s. “Are you tired?” she asked softly.

Paige shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No. You?”

Azzi mirrored her response with a small shake of her head. “No,” she murmured, leaning back down to plant soft, lingering kisses along Paige’s neck.

Paige closed her eyes, her breath hitching as Azzi’s lips trailed over her skin. Her hands instinctively tightened their hold on Azzi’s waist, pulling her just a little closer.

When Azzi found a particularly sensitive spot, she bit down gently, eliciting a low groan from Paige. Azzi chuckled softly against her skin, her breath warm as she said, “You gotta be quiet.”

Paige mumbled, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

Azzi smirked, pressing another kiss to the same spot she’d bitten, satisfied with the way Paige’s body responded. “You always say that,” she mumbled, her lips brushing against Paige’s skin as she continued kissing her neck, “but then you’re not.”

Paige let out a soft scoff, her hands gliding up Azzi’s sides. “You don’t really have room to talk.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, lifting her head just enough to shoot Paige a look. “Whatever,” she muttered before trailing more kisses down Paige’s neck, taking her time to savor the moment but also moving with a little quickness having been interrupted the last few times.

Paige’s breathing grew heavier as Azzi moved lower. Paige’s hands slid to rest on Azzi’s shoulders, grounding herself as the warmth between them grew.

Azzi paused, sitting up briefly to tug off her shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her damp curls framed her face as she leaned back down, her lips now traveling further down Paige’s body.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in Azzi’s curls as she tried to keep herself composed. Her jaw tightened, her chest rising and falling a little more rapidly as she fought to stay quiet.

But just as Azzi reached Paige’s waistband, a small, sleepy voice called out from the other side of the door. “Mama?”

Paige froze, her eyes snapping open as her hands flew up to cover her face. She groaned quietly, the sound muffled by her palms.

Azzi stilled, dropping her forehead to Paige’s stomach with an exasperated laugh. “Of course,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with slight amusement.

Azzi sighed, still resting her forehead on Paige’s stomach, reluctant to move and completely let go of the moment. She stayed where she was, just in case whatever was happening on the other side of the door resolved itself quickly.

Without lifting her head, Azzi called out, “Yes, sweetheart?” her voice is gentle but carries through the room. She knew Paige might need a few more seconds to gather herself before speaking.

There was a pause before Aliana’s voice called back, recognizing Azzi’s voice. “No, I want Mama!”

Paige let out a soft laugh, running her hands over her face one last time before lowering them to her sides. She looked down at Azzi, who was still sprawled against her with a small grin.

They both chuckled before Paige finally yelled, “What’s wrong, baby?”

The answer came almost immediately, and they could practically hear the pout in Aliana’s voice as she replied, “I wanna sleep with you.”

Azzi sighed again, this time with a mixture of amusement and defeat, her lips curling into a smile. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s lips before sitting up. “We tried,” she muttered, a playfulness in her eyes.

Paige smiled, watching as Azzi stood and moved to open the door. Azzi scooped Aliana up effortlessly, cradling her against her chest as she walked back toward the bed. Aliana, as if on cue, practically threw herself into Paige’s arms, a loud giggle escaping her.

It was always amusing to Paige and Azzi how, at times, their daughter would make up her mind so suddenly about who she wanted to hold her. One moment she’d reach for Azzi relentlessly, the next, she’d be crying over Paige, with no rhyme or reason.

“Mommy, where’s your shirt?” Aliana asked innocently, her wide brown eyes filled with curiosity.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh. “Mommy was hot,” she replied easily, raising an eyebrow as she climbed back into the bed with them.

Aliana scrunched up her little face and pouted slightly, “It’s cold in here.”

Paige grinned at her daughter’s observation. Without warning, she tickled Aliana’s sides, causing the little girl to burst into uncontrollable giggles. The playful sound filled the room as Aliana squirmed in Paige’s arms, losing her train of thought.

Paige laughed along, her heart swelling with the simple joy of the moment, before she finally relented and stopped. “Alright, alright time to go to bed, smartie pants,” she teased, kissing the top of Aliana’s head before leaning over to kiss Azzi softly.

Azzi, smiling at the interaction, reached over and turned off the lamp, the soft glow of the room now replaced by the darkness of the night.

Aliana, still giggling a little, settled onto Paige’s chest, her tiny body relaxing as she snuggled in. Paige gently pulled her thumb out of her mouth, trying to encourage her to break the habit early.

After a moment, Paige pulled Azzi closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. The softness of Azzi’s body against hers was grounding, like a constant she never wanted to let go of.

Aliana, not to be left out these days, huffed in a mock-disgruntled way, pulling Paige’s face toward hers and giving her a small pout. “No kissing, Mama. Only for me” she said, making Paige and Azzi laugh softly at the interruption.

“Goodnight, princess,” Paige whispered, talking to Azzi but kissing Aliana’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my love,” Azzi added softly, leaning over to place a quick kiss on Paige’s cheek.

The room fell quiet, except for the soft breaths of their daughter as she drifted off to sleep while Paige and Azzi laid there mumbling to each other quietly about everything and nothing.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up alone, the large bed beside her empty. She stretched, groggily pulling the blankets around her as she lay there for a moment, her hair sprawled across the pillow in soft tangles. The quiet morning settled around her until the sound of Aliana’s voice reached her ears from downstairs.

“I want Mama!” her daughter’s voice rang out, followed by Azzi’s, a little gentler, “Mama’s sleeping, baby. Patience, remember.”

Paige smiled to herself at the sound, but then a sudden clatter broke the peace, and Azzi’s voice, a little louder now, called out, “Aliana Bueckers you know better!” Paige couldn't help but chuckle softly under her breath at her wife’s tone.

Paige groaned softly and stretched again, dragging herself out of bed. She quickly pulled her hair into a messy bun and shuffled to the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading downstairs.

When she walked into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was Aliana, sitting in her high chair with tears streaming down her face, clearly upset. Azzi was standing by the stove, holding a spatula, her back slightly turned toward the table.

Before she could process much else, Aliana’s arms shot out toward her, wailing, “Mama!”

Paige’s heart twisted but she immediately moved toward Azzi first, gently taking the spatula from her hand. “I got it, baby,” she said softly, planting a quick kiss on Azzi’s lips, “And good morning, beautiful.”

Azzi smiled at the affection, her eyes soft, but Aliana’s whine grew louder, impatient at the attention between them. The little girl reached for Paige desperately, her arms outstretched. Lately, whenever Paige showed Azzi any affection, Aliana seemed to try and push Azzi away, saying, “No, Mommy!” as if she couldn’t stand the idea of sharing Paige’s attention.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of Aliana’s jealousy endearing despite the chaos it created.

Azzi sighed and smiled, stepping back slightly. “You don’t have to baby. I got it.”

Paige kissed Azzi one more time, murmuring, “Go, relax. I got this.” Azzi didn’t argue this time, offering Paige a smile before walking out of the kitchen.

Paige turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake before going over to Aliana, her arms opening to gather the little girl into her arms. “Hey, baby girl,” Paige whispered softly, kissing the top of her head and calming her down with gentle rocking.

It took a few moments, but soon enough, Aliana’s tears subsided, and she relaxed in Paige’s arms. Paige smiled down at her daughter, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before speaking again.

“You need to apologize to Mommy, pretty girl,” Paige said softly, her tone a little more serious.

Aliana whined at the idea, her lower lip trembling, but Paige’s voice remained firm. “Aliana.”

Reluctantly, Aliana stopped whining, looking up at Paige with big, innocent eyes.

“You love Mommy, don’t you?” Paige asked gently.

Aliana’s eyes immediately brightened, and she nodded enthusiastically, her dimple popping out as she grinned. Paige’s heart melted, and she gave her daughter another kiss on the forehead.

“Exactly,” Paige replied. “And you did something you weren’t supposed to, baby.”

Aliana’s face fell, a small pout forming on her lips as she looked down at her hands.

Paige’s voice was gentle but insistent as she continued, “What did you do wrong, sweet girl? Can you tell me?”

Aliana’s pout deepened, and her little eyes glistened with the start of more tears thinking about it. In her three-year-old words, she hesitated for a moment before speaking up, her voice tiny. “Threw fruit... momma made me... and I’m not posed to…”

Paige hummed, nodding as she listened. “And why is that bad, baby?”

Aliana looked up at Paige, her bottom lip quivering as she answered in her best logic, “I need to be gwateful... and use my words…”

Paige’s heart swelled with pride as she listened to her daughter’s simple but important understanding. She nodded, her smile tender. “Exactly, baby.”

She gently wiped away Aliana’s wet cheeks, smoothing her hair back. “You don’t need to cry, sweet girl. You’re not in trouble. You just need to understand why what you did was wrong.”

Paige carefully lifted Aliana onto the counter. Aliana’s small face remained serious for a moment before it softened into a look of understanding.

“There’s no need to cry, okay?” Paige reassured her gently, resting a hand on her daughter’s back. “We just want you to learn, so you can be the best girl you can be.”

Aliana gave a small nod, her lips still pouting but her little body relaxing into Paige’s touch.

Paige helped Aliana down from the counter. The moment her feet hit the ground, Aliana ran, her little legs moving fast as she darted toward the living room. Paige smiled as she watched her daughter, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the floor filling the house.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, a book in her hands, but she immediately looked up when she heard Aliana’s excited giggles. She put the book down and smiled, watching Aliana’s wild morning hair bounce with each step.

Aliana clumsily climbed up onto the couch, her tiny hands grabbing at the cushion before she scrambled into Azzi’s lap, her eyes wide and sincere.

“I’m sorry for doin’ somethin’ I’m not posed to,” Aliana said, her voice a little jumbled as she tried to get the words out. “I love fruit... I pwomise I’m gwateful mommy.”

Azzi’s heart melted as she smoothed out Aliana’s wild curls. “It’s okay, sweet girl,” she whispered, kissing the top of Aliana’s head.

Aliana’s face lit up at the words, her little dimple popping out as she looked up at Azzi with wide eyes. “You not mad at me?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “I could never be mad at you.”

The two of them stayed there for a while, Aliana nestled comfortably in Azzi’s lap, watching her as Azzi continued reading. Every so often, Aliana would try to “read” the book too, her eyes tracing the words, but it was clear she was more focused on mimicking Azzi than actually recognizing the text. She’d point at random words, saying them as if she understood, but it was all just part of her little pretend game.

The warmth of the moment wrapped around them both until Paige’s voice cut through the quiet. She stood at the entrance of the living room with a smile.

“Breakfast is ready, bookworms,” Paige called out.

Azzi and Aliana both looked up, Aliana’s face breaking into a grin. “We coming, Mama!” she giggled.

Azzi smiled at Paige, before giving Aliana a gentle squeeze. “Come on, baby, let’s go eat,” she said, helping Aliana slide off her lap and stand up.

Aliana, still holding onto Azzi’s hand, ran ahead toward the kitchen, giggling all the way. Paige watched them go, her eyes full of love, before she followed them into the kitchen,

They sat down at the kitchen table, the morning light streaming through the windows, casting a soft glow over the scene. Aliana, sat between her two mothers, clasped her hands together in front of her. Her small voice was a little jumbled as she started her prayer, mimicking the words Paige had taught her.

"Th-thank you for mommy, and mama... and... food..." Aliana stumbled through the words, her little brow furrowing as she focused hard, trying to remember everything. Paige and Azzi both smiled down at her, their hearts swelling at the sight of their daughter trying so earnestly.

When Aliana finished, she looked up at them with her big brown eyes, full of innocence and pride for having made it through her prayer. There was a brief pause before, with no warning, Aliana grabbed both of their heads and pulled them together in a surprise move.

Paige and Azzi blinked in shock, but before they could react, Aliana giggled, her tiny hands pushing their faces together. “Kiss!” she demanded with a smile.

Caught off guard but amused, Paige leaned in and kissed Azzi softly, the light touch between them full of affection. Aliana beamed at the sight, her dimple deepening as she witnessed her parents sharing the love she had so often seen and now randomly enjoyed.

With the kiss over, Aliana clapped her hands together, clearly satisfied with the result, before turning her attention to the food on the table.

"Yay!" she cheered, reaching for a fork, eager to dive into her breakfast.

Paige and Azzi laughed softly, their hearts light as they both picked up their utensils.

…

Later that day as they walked back into the house, the weight of a long practice settled around them. Both Paige and Azzi had already showered, their muscles still buzzing with the remnants of the workout.

Aliana, as usual, had run herself ragged in the practice facility. The little girl had spent the better part of the session darting around, mimicking the moves of the older players, laughing as she tried to keep up with them. By the time they’d made it home, she had passed out cold in Paige’s arms, her tiny body nestled against her mom’s shoulder. Paige walked carefully, trying not to disturb her, the soft weight of Aliana’s breath against her neck lulling her into a sense of peace.

They reached Aliana's room, and Paige gently laid her down on the bed, pulling off her shoes and tucking the blankets around her. She lingered for a moment, brushing a few stray hairs from Aliana’s face and kissing her forehead softly.

Turning to Azzi, Paige smiled softly. “I’ll grab our bags from the car, baby you can go relax,” she said, her voice warm, filled with the ease of being home.

Azzi returned the smile, but before Paige could step away, Azzi pulled her closer, cupping her face with both hands and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss started slow, tender, but quickly deepened as Azzi shifted the energy between them. Paige’s lips parted in surprise as Azzi’s hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, the heat of their bodies radiating through the air.

Azzi’s lips hovered against Paige’s, breath warm as she whispered, “Meet me in the room when you’re done.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat as Azzi pulled back, her hands moving to strip off her shirt, revealing the toned muscles of her back. She turned around swaying her hips with an effortless confidence as she walked toward their bedroom.

Paige stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide as her mind raced to catch up with the sight before her. The sight of Azzi’s back, the way her body moved with such natural grace, sent a jolt of desire through Paige. She blinked, her heart pounding, before shaking herself out of her daze.

Without a second thought, Paige turned and practically ran down the stairs, eager to finish what she'd started.

By the time Paige reached the top of the stairs again, her breath still uneven from her run, her eyes searched the room for Azzi. She found her, of course, sitting on the bed. The sight of her wife in their private space, in their sanctuary, made the rest of the world feel distant. Paige closed the door behind her, her voice slipping into the room with. “Can’t wait, huh?”

Azzi, hearing the door close, looked up slowly. Her eyes locked onto Paige’s, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "You better hurry up," she teased, her tone drenched in that sultry, warmth that always made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Paige couldn’t help but smile, a gleam in her eyes. “Trust me I’m taking my time with you today,” she murmured.

Paige’s fingers brushed against the hem of her shirt, swiftly yanking it over her head, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. Paige lingered for just a moment, hovering inches away from Azzi, the heat between them building as if the room itself could feel the anticipation.

Without warning, Paige grinned, using her strength to roll them both to the side, pulling Azzi on top of her. Azzi’s laughter bubbled up, a sound Paige adored. The weight of Azzi’s body on hers sent a surge of warmth through Paige’s chest as she didn’t hesitate to pull Azzi closer, her hands sliding firmly to her wife’s hips, giving her a playful tug. Azzi’s lips met hers in an urgent, desperate kiss, their mouths moving together in sync, catching up on all the little moments they'd missed.

They slowed the pace, savoring each kiss, each touch, as if they had all the time in the world, and for the night, they did. The world outside their bedroom felt far away, and even though their daughter slept soundly just down the hall, Paige and Azzi had carved out their own world in that moment just like they promised to always do when they said their vows.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[meazalykov]

not forgotten

barcelona femeni x reader

summary: you're back, but not for a good reason

warnings: angst, injury

barcelona was supposed to be your dream. 

when you signed for the club, it felt like your whole life had built up to that moment. everything seemed perfect at first. you were playing, scoring goals, and building your legacy. you signed the contract back in 2018, transferring from manchester city. 

you don’t know what went wrong during then.. because everything good changed in 2021.

the left knee injury came out of nowhere. one wrong turn, one awkward landing in that game against chelsea, and suddenly, your world crumbled. you had torn your left acl, and in a flash, the career you had worked so hard for was put on hold. 

the surgery, the rehab, the endless hours spent trying to get your body to cooperate..it was the hardest thing you’d ever done. even harder than the physical recovery was the emotional toll. when you were finally cleared to play again, barcelona didn’t seem to trust you anymore. 

you sat on the bench, game after game, the empty pit in your stomach growing deeper each time your name wasn’t called. at first, you told yourself it was temporary and that they were easing you back in. 

weeks turned to months, and you were still a benchwarmer.. the minutes never came. 

you tried to stay positive, to convince yourself that the coach had a plan, that your moment would come. as the team celebrated goals without you, as the crowd chanted other names, a dark voice in the back of your mind began to whisper: 

they don’t believe in you anymore.

it was like a knife to the heart. barcelona wasn’t just a club to you..it was a symbol of everything you had ever wanted since leaving your childhood club in manchester. to feel discarded, like you were no longer good enough to wear that blue jersey, was unbearable. you kept showing up to training, pushing yourself harder than anyone else, trying to prove that you deserved to be there. 

no matter how much effort you gave, it seemed like they had already made up their minds about you. 

you began to dread match days, not because you didn’t love the game, but because it hurt too much to sit on the bench, knowing you were capable of more but not being given the chance. you’d put on a brave face, cheering for your teammates and pretending like it didn’t bother you. inside, you were drowning. people started to question why you were still here if you weren’t given time.

at night, in the quiet darkness of your apartment bathroom, the facade would crack. you’d stare at the ceiling, wondering where it had all gone wrong. did they think you were fragile? did they think you’d never be the same? the worst part was, you started to believe it too. 

the doubt crept into your mind like poison, and no matter how hard you tried to fight it, it lingered. you began to question if you would ever get back to the player you once were..or if that version of you was gone forever. 

you felt invisible, forgotten… and for a player who had once been at the center of it all, that was the hardest thing to bear.

when the chicago red stars approached you with a loan offer, needing a striker due to the absence of mallory– an american star suffering her own injury, you didn’t hesitate. the chance to play in the nwsl for a full season felt like your lifeline. it wasn’t just about proving to barcelona that you still had what it took…it was about proving it to yourself. 

you needed to know that you could still be the player you once were.

chicago felt like a breath of fresh air. the league was different, more physical and honestly more competitive. by the fifth week of the nwsl season, you were a starter, and it felt like everything was finally clicking again. 

the goals came naturally, your touch on the ball felt sharp, and you ran without fear. it was as if the 2021 injury had never happened. for the first time in years, you felt like yourself.. you just needed to get out of spain. 

you started thinking that maybe, just maybe, the nwsl was where you belonged.

then, with only a few weeks left in the regular season before the playoffs, disaster struck again. it was a routine play against seattle, nothing unusual..until it wasn’t. one moment you were sprinting down the wing, the next you were on the ground, clutching your right knee. 

the pain was instant, sharp, and all too familiar. you knew before the medics even reached you what had happened. another torn acl, this time in your right leg.

tears blurred your vision as you were stretchered off the field. all the progress you’d made, all the confidence you’d rebuilt, gone in an instant. and to make it worse, your loan agreement was clear: any season-ending injury meant you had to return to barcelona before your loan is expired. 

the thought made your stomach turn. you hadn’t spoken to most of your home-club teammates since leaving on loan, and you were convinced they resented you for leaving. 

after all, it was widely known that you had requested the loan yourself and quickly took chicagos deal like it was a prize.

back in spain just a week later, the familiar sights of barcelona felt foreign to you. the medical building, where you’d spent countless hours during your first recovery, loomed like a prison. you did not want to be back so soon. you felt like an outsider, unwelcome in the place you once called home. 

when you walked inside, you kept your head down, hoping to get through the day without running into anyone.

however, you saw her..alexia. your old captain, the person who had once been your biggest supporter. she was standing near the reception desk, and when she saw you, her face lit up. you froze, unsure of what to do. 

you expected anger or at least indifference, but instead, she smiled and walked over to you.

“y/n,” she said, her tone warm. 

“it’s so good to see you.”

you blinked, caught off guard. 

“you don’t have to say that,” you mumbled. “i know everyone’s probably mad at me for leaving.”

alexia frowned, shaking her head. 

“why would we be mad? we’ve missed you.”

you stared at her, struggling to believe her words. 

“missed me? alexia, i left. i asked to leave. how could anyone miss me after that?”

“y/n,” she said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“you’re part of this team. we knew your circumstances.. we’ve all been following your games in chicago, rooting for you.. especially aitana. no one’s mad at you. if anything, we just hated seeing you feel like you couldn’t come to us.”

ale’s words hit you harder than you expected. you had spent so long convincing yourself that you were unwanted here that you hadn’t even considered the possibility that it wasn’t true. 

over the next few months, as you navigated surgery and the early stages of rehab, your teammates began to show up for you in small but meaningful ways. mapi sent you care packages filled with your favorite snacks that helped her with some of her own injuries. ingrid invited you over to watch movies, saying it was good for your mental health. even patri, who you always thought was a bit intimidating, dropped by unannounced with chinese takeout and a pep talk that made you laugh despite yourself.

suddenly.. the invitation to a team bar night. you were surprised to even be invited, and when you hesitated, aitana rolled her eyes and said, “you’re part of the team, so of course you’re invited. we care about you so stop overthinking it.”

you had fun with your teammates that night. they teased you about your time in chicago, praised your performances, and implied that you were missed while gone. 

it was the first time in a long time that you truly believed it.

a year later, as you finished your rehab and returned to full training, barcelona was a different place. jona had been replaced by a new coach, one who seemed genuinely interested in your potential. one afternoon, he called you into his office for a meeting.

“y/n,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “i’ve been watching your progress, and i’m impressed. with mariona gone, we need a striker with your skill set. i know things haven’t been easy for you here in the past, but i want you to know that if you stay, i can promise you’ll get the playing time you deserve.”

you hesitated. your contract was up next summer, and part of you still wanted to leave, to find a new start somewhere else. there was something in his tone that made you consider his words carefully.

“i’ll stay,” you said finally. “but only until my contract ends. if things don’t change, i’m leaving as a free agent.”

“fair enough,” he replied with a nod. 

“but i have a feeling you won’t want to leave.”

he was right. the next season was nothing short of a dream. you became a starter again, and your performances were better than ever. 

by the end of the season, and with the champions league win thanks to a brace from you, you had the highest goal count across europe’s top five leagues. the fans chanted your name, and your teammates reminded you often that you only belong here. 

chicago had been the fresh reset you needed, but barcelona was where you belonged. 

this time, you were ready to claim your place for good.

masterlist

[ninyard]

I just saw a post wondering what Andrew and Neil’s first proper argument is, and naturally I have to offer this:

Andrew and Neil don’t fight. They’ll ignore each other if they’re pissed off - but never for more than a few hours, or maybe until one of them has slept it off and decide it’s not worth it (usually Andrew). They’ll have tiffs but never over anything serious.

Except for in the months coming up to Andrew’s graduation. That is when I believe Andrew and Neil have their first real argument.

Andrew gets officially signed to his pro team around abouts the February of that year. It’s in a state further away that Neil expected, and since they found out, Neil keeps catching Andrew looking at apartments or researching the state and the team. He’s happy for him, of course he is, but he can’t quite identify what this feeling in his stomach is every time Andrew brings it up. The little fights that last longer than their usually bickering start not long after; Neil getting more pissed off by the little things Andrew does, Andrew having off-days with Neil more and more often, each of them asking for their own space because they know if they stay around each other they’re going to start a fight. It’s gradual in a way that they don’t realise for a little while that it’s getting worse, until just after the championship finals, and the season is officially over, when three days have passed without them talking for not much of a reason at all. Neil used his finals as an excuse, but Andrew didn’t have any good reason. After those three days, they’re finally alone in their dorm for whatever reason, and maybe Andrew has started packing or he’s just got some sort of welcome package from the team: everything explodes. Andrew tries to kiss Neil, and something feels wrong, and when Neil asks what the fuck is going on, all hell breaks loose.

Andrew doesn’t yell, of course he doesn’t, but he’s venomous. He’s asking Neil why he’s acting as if the world is going to end just because he’s graduating, he’s angry at him for becoming so dependent on his presence, he’s angry at himself for feeling like he’s found a future in Neil when this was never the plan. He was supposed to be nothing. A casual fuck, with an end date and no feelings but fuck if he can’t live his life without him now. Neil yells, because he does, and he’s angry that Andrew still seems so unsure about what they are, how comfortable they were, but suddenly things are different, and it feels like he doesn’t care. He’s angry at himself for building his life around Andrew, but he’s the only reason why Neil Josten exists. Andrew reminds him of that, and it makes everything worse.

It goes on for far too long, quickly becoming meaningless and just an excuse for either of them to vent out the frustration they’ve been keeping inside for months.

“You know that I won’t overstep your boundaries,” Neil points a finger at him. “So in your head it’s okay to treat me like shit and ignore me because you know that I will give you that space.”

He doesn’t even really think that, but every little thing, every little excuse is multiplied by a thousand when he feels this red hot rage. He hates the things that come out of his mouth, but Andrew gives it back, and his insistent refusal to back down just further butts their heads together and infuriates them both.

“I won’t chase after you because you’ve decided to allow me distance,” Andrew says, calm and ice cold. “You can’t invent boundaries for me and then be upset that they exist.”

Lows blows after low blows, unfair quips and insults from both sides, slamming of drawers and doors and throwing of things; they have never, ever fought like this before. It’s over everything and nothing at the same time. Andrew knew it was only a matter of time before campus security was called, but when he tried to tell Neil to calm down and lower his voice, it only made things worse.

They’ve been unkind and awful with each other for about an hour when Neil finds himself starting to get so furiously angry thats he’s upset, that he can feel himself being needlessly nasty with Andrew. For the first time ever he feels the tilt. He feels their foundations getting rocked, a crack in the base of the pyramid of their relationship that gives him the feeling that this might not last forever. He leaves their dorm with a slam of the door, and goes for a run. He hasn’t done that in a while, a run from his feelings, running from his problems and responsibilities. He’s not sure how long it’s been before he finds himself too far away from campus, because he just ran in a straight line.

When he checks his phone he realises he’s over an hour walk away from their dorms. He almost calls Matt, and hesitates over Coach’s phone number, but instead he clicks Andrew’s name. It’s only ringing for two rings before the ringing ends and there’s a quiet hiss at the other end of the line. Neil double checks that he’s answered, because Andrew hasn’t said anything, and brings the phone back to his ear.

“Can you come pick me up?” His breathing is heavy, all of his anger drained out through his feet with every single step that he took to get further away from their dorm.

“Where are you?” Andrew is quick to respond, and Neil can hear him already picking up his keys.

Neil tells him the name of some bar that he can see, and Andrew hangs up almost instantly afterwards. Neil starts to put his phone away, used to the abrupt endings of phone calls, but wishing he would say something more. He puts his phone away and wonders why Andrew can’t just give him something. He’s not looking for a Love you! Bye! But maybe just an answer that let him know he was listening. but then it starts to ring again, and it’s Andrew, and Neil doesn’t say anything when he answers.

“I’m leaving now,” Andrew says. There’s something in his voice. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Neil responds. “Thank you.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgment, but this time he doesn’t hang up immediately. He hesitates, but he’s somewhere outside now.

“I will always pick you up.” He says after a while, after he’s shut his car door and the engine has rumbled to life, and maybe it sounds like I love you, I care about you, I need you. Maybe it sounds like I need you to know that i can’t lose this.

“I know,” Neil says, and it sounds like I can’t do this without you. “Thank you.”

Andrew waits a second or two then before hanging up, and Neil waits for him by the curb. Andrew is there quicker than twenty minutes later. Neither of them say anything as Neil slips into the passenger seat, and neither of them say anything as they pull away. Neither of them say anything until Andrew has switched the engine off, and the car is sitting in its parking spot. They look at each other then, and maybe then they understand what’s happening.

“I’m not above telling you that I don’t want to leave here,” leave you. “But this was always a certainty. You’ve had plenty of time to prepare.”

“I thought that I had,” Neil tells him.

It’s the truth, in some way. He realises then that all of these little fights, and growing agitation, and this almost primal urge to push Andrew away was how he’d prepared. He’s been trying his hardest to soften the blow that it would have on him, and if he pushed him away first, then it wouldn’t hurt when he inevitably pushed him back or let him go. Only, that was never going to happen, and that’s what made it worse - nothing could happen to them now that would not bring them back to each other. So when Neil pushed and pushed and pushed and Andrew was constantly hitting a wall instead of a door, all they were doing was filling the room with resentment.

They sit in the car then and talk about the reality: Andrew was moving away in just a few weeks, moving further away than they’d ever been apart. The truth was that regardless of whether or not Neil decides to spend the summer with him, August would come, and Neil would go back to PSU, and Andrew would stay wherever it was that he was staying. They’d been fighting more in a subconscious test with each other, to see if one of them were going to give up, to see it this was the thing that would finally tear them apart. They talk about that, too, as difficult as it is for Andrew to be honest about that kind of thing. Neil asks him if he thinks it would be better for them to break up, to give each other space, to let Andrew flourish on his new team and meet new people and grow into himself as a professional exy player. It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged the possibility out loud with each other, and it destroys Neil to ask it, and it destroys Andrew to hear it.

Andrew thinks about how Exy was supposed to be the deal with Kevin: how he was supposed to come off his meds, and Kevin would give him purpose, and he would find something to live for in the sport that would not love him back. Instead he gave him Neil. That was his something to live for, and while he’d started to learn how to live for himself, and he would eventually survive without him, he didn’t want to. He couldn’t. He would sooner give it all up just to keep him, and Neil knew that was the truth.

Neil thinks about how Neil was supposed to be temporary. Now it was the future, it was Andrew, it was a long and successful life. Neil Josten did not have an expiry date anymore. He could have things that were his own, things to keep, things to live for.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but as the evening went on, and they stay in that car and talk about the future, they’d truly come to the understanding that neither of them can lose each other. They will always be half of one another, and no amount of distance can change that. It’s hard conversation after hard conversation, and it’s emotional in the way that Andrew and Neil get emotional. All the fighting ends up being a catalyst for possibly the most personal, deep, intimate discussion they’ve ever had. There’s lots of silences and voices that threaten to raise but stay low. There’s a lot of questions, and answers, and questions without answers, too. Buts it’s needed. Andrew could not leave PSU without them having this conversation. If he had, I think they would’ve struggled a whole lot more with the distance, and the conversations they would have afterwards would’ve been far more difficult.

Ultimately that’s where they end the conversation sometime past midnight - with a semi newfound understanding of where they stand with each other, what they are, what the future means for them. It’s a fight that needed to happen, and in their own ways they apologise for the things that they said. Maybe they don’t say sorry, they just say everything is going to be okay, and distance will not be the thing that ruins this.

I don’t know. I really do think it’s a fight that’s needs to happen. I think it’s a terrible, angry, nasty argument, and they both feel awful about the things they said and did, but it had to happen. Yeah, could it have been communicated with words? Sure. But Andrew had to understand how afraid Neil was of losing him, he had to understand what Neil was doing to protect himself from it. And Neil had to understand that Andrew was always, always willing to fight for him, but he couldn’t do that if Neil wasn’t willing to see that he would.

[luvergirl-866]

that’s so true

word count - 8.3k

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

c/w - language, toxic p/toxic relationship (situationship) (kinda toxic a too)? i guess you could call it angst? but it’s very unserious bc i’ve been doing too much serious stuff. fluff and happy ending. very dialogue heavy

a/n - i don’t usually like to incorporate music into my fics but the anon who gave this prompt specifically recommended it so i hope i did it justice! also, this takes place azzi’s freshman year so like 2021/2022, and i know this song didn’t exist then but this is fiction so i can do what i want 😛. hope yall enjoy!!!

They only have five minutes before they’re supposed to leave with everybody else to Ted’s. Unfortunately for Azzi, Paige Bueckers is very hot and also very much on top of her, and both of these things coincide to create quite the predicament: they can’t stop kissing.

It’s normal for them, lately. Kissing is easier than talking, considering talking has gotten harder since they started—whatever this is. Or maybe restarted is a better word, considering they did this same thing in high school. But back then, the kissing was a little clumsier, often fast and desperate, whereas now they’re older, mature (yeah, right) and they take their time with these things, often just making out for hours before they move on to other things, relishing in not having to worry about either of their parents or siblings barging in on them like they used to.

There’s also another difference—back then, they were dating. Like, introducing each other as their girlfriends, going on dates, holding-hands-in-public dating.

That’s different because today—and for the past six months—they’ve been decidedly not dating.

“We don’t need distractions,” Paige had said after they’d fucked, only a month after Azzi came to UConn. (They had both agreed to stay just friends—best friends—but nothing more. But then they had to live in the same building and watch each other get all hot and sweaty at practice and see each other in skimpy pajamas and who were they to blame, really, when they fucked in that club bathroom one heated but sober night? They had spent a year broken up, a year of being long-distance besties, FaceTiming and texting and posting each other on socials with captions like “happy birthday i miss you” and “come see me”. It honestly would’ve been wrong for them to not fuck.)

“Mm—Paige, wait,” Azzi whispers when they finally separate for air.

“What’s up,” Paige says, eyes roving over every inch of Azzi’s face. Her voice is a little raspy from lack of use and it does things to Azzi’s tummy.

“I—you don’t—we need to go,” Azzi urges, pushing at Paige’s shoulders. Paige, of course, just smiles at that, pressing her knee up in between Azzi’s legs. It’s really not her fault when she gasps a little.

Paige chuckles, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then between her eyebrows. “Do we?” she mumbles, pecking the tip of Azzi’s nose and the corner of her mouth. “Like, do we really?”

“Yes, Paige, we do.” Azzi moves one of her hands down to Paige’s occupied thigh, trying desperately to separate the toned muscle from her aching core. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Definitely not as much fun as this is.”

“Well, we can continue later, when we get home.” That gets Paige to move her knee back, offering Azzi both relief and leaving an ache between her legs. She does her best to flash a sultry smile. “It’s a weekend. We can stay up all night if we want.”

Paige looks at her skeptically. “I thought you were stayin’ sober?”

Azzi moves her head back and forth. “Might not.”

“For real?”

“Uh-huh.” Azzi winds her arms around Paige’s shoulders, then scratches a little roughly down the length of her back, something Paige has always been into. It works, Paige’s jaw dropping just enough to show the pink of her tongue. “I want it, too, P. We just can’t ditch the team again. I think they already suspect us.”

“What?” Paige makes a face and scoffs. “Nah, we’re sneaky.”

“You called me babe in front of everyone at practice.”

“That’s a friend thing.” Paige waggles her eyebrows and plants a kiss on her lips, as if to prove just how friendly they are.

“Nika saw you basically groping me the other day, too.”

“I never did that.”

“My apartment, the kitchen. Movie night. I was making popcorn and you came up behind me and grabbed my tits.”

“Hm. Don’t remember that.”

“You said ‘I wanna fuck you from behind right now,’ and poor Nika walked in and stared at us and said, ‘This doesn’t look like you’re making popcorn’.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into Azzi’s shoulder and effectively laying the entire length of her body on Azzi’s. “I did wanna fuck you from behind. You were wearing those jeans…”

“Paige!”

“Okay, whatever.” Paige is a little muffled now, buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Her breath tingles, sending hot shivers up the length of her arm. “I do that to everyone, Nika won’t think anything of it.”

“Oh, really,” Azzi says, tone dropping into something utterly unamused, and Paige’s head pops up when she hears it. “So you say things like that to every bitch?”

Paige’s eyes widen. “No!” she grapples for something to say, and Azzi just raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t—I meant—I just didn’t wanna admit you’re right, I wasn’t—baby.” Paige juts out her bottom lip. It kinda works. “You know I wasn’t thinkin’.”

This is another interesting thing about their current situation: because they’re not dating, they’ve never discussed where they stand in terms of other people. Sure, at the very beginning, they agreed since it was just casual sex, there was no reason for them to be exclusive. They didn’t want to get anywhere near that line of the all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school, and they figured seeing other people—or at least having the option to do so—would steer them clear of that. And it worked for about…two seconds.

But then somewhere down the line things got a little blurry and slowly but surely Azzi stopped thinking of them as friends with benefits and as more of a slightly complicated but also fun situationship. Because at some point they started kissing without the goal of sex or even third base, just little pecks here and there when they had a second alone. And then they started staying a little longer each time after they’d fuck—at first, they’d leave directly after. But then they would stay for some basic aftercare, and then it got to full-on snuggling, and then it got to their clothes in each other’s apartments from how often they’d stay the night with each other. And the most recent development which really cemented things for Azzi: Paige has started using pet names outside the bedroom, something she only ever did while they were girlfriends. It’s only been a few weeks since this started and Azzi was absolutely floored when Paige had picked up her phone call with a, “Hey, baby.”

And now here they are, late for yet another night out because Paige is very clearly scandalized at the mere notion of her seeing another girl—even though it’s supposed to be allowed—and Azzi has to be honest, she doesn’t love the idea, either.

“Aw, c’mon,” Paige says when Azzi doesn’t reply. “Don’t be mad at me, mama.”

Azzi blinks up at her, officially not jealous and not overthinking about their complicated situation any longer. “You’re stupid,” she teases, scooting back and sitting up.

Paige follows closely, so that by the time Azzi is propped up against the headboard she’s on her lap. “You’re really stopping us?” she asks.

“We’re already late, I’m sure everybody left without us,” Azzi says, tapping Paige encouragingly on the hip, “so yes.”

Paige doesn’t yet move and doesn’t look like she’s going to until a sharp knock at the door makes both of them jolt. “Hey!” It’s Aaliyah’s voice. “Y’all cannot be taking this long to get ready.”

“I don’t…we just…” Azzi stammers as Paige scrambles off her, and they both get quickly to their feet, making as little noise as possible, “our hair wasn’t cooperating,” she says, reaching up to fix Paige’s tousled hair. “We’ll be right out!”

“You better be, we’re all waiting outside and it’s fucking cold.”

“Coming!” Azzi calls, letting Paige wipe some of her smudged lip gloss, rolling her eyes when Paige smirks at her and says, “Oh, you will be.”

She has no idea what Paige Bueckers is to her, but an annoyance will always take the top spot.

————————————————

When Azzi had claimed she’d stay sober with the other freshmen, she hadn’t accounted for the fact that she has a best friend who loves to party and who loves peer pressuring even more.

“C’mon, just a few shots,” Paige pouts, leaning in too close to her. Azzi glances around the bar, trying to see if anybody is watching them, but she can’t tell. There’s too many people.

“Nobody can hear us,” Paige assures her, placing her hands low on Azzi’s hips, pressing her into the wall of the corner they’re semi-hidden in.

Azzi swears this girl is horrible for her blood pressure. “Paige,” she hisses, removing Paige’s hands, “not here.”

“You shoulda let us stay home,” Paige says, and now that her hands are placed firmly at her sides her eyes do all the wandering for them, raking slowly down Azzi’s body and back up. “I woulda had you fucked out by now, I swear.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Azzi mumbles.

“You seem anxious, baby.” Bravely, Paige holds her again, though this time it’s at a more friendly place, higher up on her waist. Azzi tries to meet her eyes but they’re held firmly on her lips. “Fuck. I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi says, as sternly as possible. She would rather like to kiss her too, but not here, not now, not when Paige is tipsy and Azzi is horrendously sober.

“Okay, I’ma go get me another dirty shirley.” Azzi swears she would marry that drink if she could. “And I’ma grab a couple shots for you while I’m at it. And then we’re gonna fuck in the bathroom.”

Azzi smacks Paige on the arm. “I’m done with public restrooms. Once was enough.”

Paige, still sober enough to have some sort of common sense, wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m still grabbing shots.” She smacks a wet kiss onto her forehead and with that, turns around to head toward the bar.

Azzi doesn’t get a second of peace before someone else is sidling up to her. Though when she looks over she sighs with relief when it’s just Caroline. “Hey, Carol.”

“You’re so lucky you have a girlfriend who’ll buy you shots,” Caroline says, looking wistfully in Paige’s direction.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Caroline side-eyes her. “Uh-huh.”

“She’s not. We broke up.”

“And then got back together.”

Azzi shoves her away before pulling her back, linking their arms together as she leads them towards their team’s section of seats. “Nope. We’re still exes.”

“Exes who are romantically involved.”

“Carol,” Azzi groans, urging her to shut up as they approach the rest of the girls. “We’re just friends.”

It used to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, lying to her closest friend, the one whose shoulder she cried on when she and Paige broke up. But after six months of doing it, she’s used to it. And it’s not like Caroline believes her, anyway.

“Okay,” Caroline says skeptically. “So if the guy that’s been looking at you since we got here asked for your number, you’d give it to him?”

They’re at the team’s booth now, and Amari perks up at the mention of the slightest possibility of drama. “What guy?”

“I haven’t noticed a guy,” Azzi says, which is the truth. As it usually goes, she’s only had eyes for Paige tonight.

“Over there,” Carol says, leaning against the table and gesturing subtly across the bar. “Muscle shirt.”

“Immediately no,” Azzi replies, not even looking for him in the group of guys across the room. But he must be actively searching her out because just as she’s about to look away she catches his eye, and even though she immediately looks away, she can still see him grin out of the corner of her eye.

“Uh-oh,” Amari mutters. “You engaged him.”

“Don’t make eye contact,” Azzi says, turning away from him to face her friends. “Make yourself unapproachable.”

Caroline turns away, too, and the two of them lean over the table.

Aaliyah looks up from the conversation she was having. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Hiding,” Azzi hisses.

Amari peeks around Azzi’s shoulder, then settles back in her seat. “He’s coming over.”

“What?” Azzi wants to look at him but doesn’t, instead inching herself closer to Caroline. “Save me.”

“Who is that?” Aaliyah asks, not-so-subtly staring at the guy.

“A man about to flirt with Azzi,” Caroline says, nudging her away.

“Oh, Paige is gonna be maddd,” Aaliyah sing-songs, and they all giggle like this is funny and not absolutely awkward and stress-inducing.

Azzi glares at them. “She has no reason to be mad.” And it’s true, she kind of doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.

“Oh, yeah?” Caroline asks, glancing behind them just as Azzi feels the man come up behind her. “We’ll see about that.”

And then there’s a tap on her shoulder, and Azzi takes a deep breath before turning around with a strained smile on her face.

“Hey.” Muscle shirt is standing a little too close for comfort, which she’s sure he’ll excuse by the crowded bar but is obviously just him being weird. “You’re Azzi, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, leaning back against the table.

“I’ve seen you around,” he continues, smiling cockily, obviously very proud of himself for being brave enough to approach her. “You come here a lot, right? To Ted’s?”

Azzi shrugs, looking casually to her side in the hopes that Caroline will rescue her, but to her astonishment she has slid into the booth next to Aaliyah and is now chatting happily with the rest of the team. “I guess.”

“Noticed you weren’t with Bueckers,” he says, and she winces. Not five sentences into the conversation and he’s already brought up her current situationship. “Thought it was a good opening.” He laughs. She doesn’t.

“How so?” she asks, a little nervously.

“I mean, she obviously doesn’t want anybody coming near you.” A girl squeezes past behind him and he takes it as an excuse to inch even closer to her. Azzi presses herself further back into the table. “Can’t even look your way without her looking like she’s gonna fight someone.”

“She’s just protective,” Azzi says. As if Paige would do that for any of their friends, as if that level of pure possessiveness is normal.

“Right.” He doesn’t sound fully convinced. “You didn’t ask my name.”

God. Why are men so…gross? “My bad.” He stares at her expectantly. “Uh…so…?”

“I’m Elliot,” he says, grinning at her. That muscle shirt is really not doing good things for him. “You want me to buy you a drink?”

“Um, actually—“

“She’s good.”

Azzi’s shoulders sag at the mere sound of Paige’s voice. She can’t help but smile when Paige approaches them, moving roughly past Elliot to sidle up next to her. She hands her two brightly colored shots before slinging an arm around her, firmly ignoring Elliot. “Gotchu these. Lemme know if you don’t like ‘em.”

Azzi nods, and usually she’d shy away from the physical contact, especially right in front of their friends, but now she leans into it, safe under Paige’s arm. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I took so long.” As if sensing her discomfort—which she probably can—she rubs her thumb soothingly over her shoulder. “They’re super busy up there. You okay?”

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Elliot interrupts her. “She’s fine, dude. We’re just talking.”

Paige looks at him. “Aight. Well, you can be done talking now.”

Their teammates have gone mostly quiet behind them, and Azzi rolls her eyes when she hears them snickering.

Elliot scoffs, but he’s skinny and a little shorter than Paige, and when her arm tightens around Azzi’s shoulder he puts his hands up. “Damn, okay.”

Azzi breathes a sigh of relief when he’s gone. “Thank god. That was so awkward.”

“You shoulda called me,” Paige says, dropping her arm to turn around and face their teammates. “And y’all shoulda helped her out.”

The girls look up at them innocently. Amari smiles charmingly at Paige and says, “We knew you were gonna do it soon enough.”

Azzi shakes her head and downs one of the shots. It is as disgusting as it looks.

“You guys suck,” Paige says, pulling Azzi into her side once again. “Leaving my girl in the trenches like that.”

Dozens of eyebrows raise at that, and it’s then that Azzi smells the booze on Paige’s breath. She flushes, trying to pull away. “P,” she mutters.

“I know,” Paige says, holding fast to Azzi’s waist, setting her shirley on the table so she can wrap the other around her, too.

“Paige,” Azzi urges, pressed completely now into Paige’s chest and trying desperately to ignore the scrutinizing looks from her teammates. She hopes they’re all too drunk to think hard about Paige’s behavior.

“Yeah,” Paige says, her hand creeping slowly down Azzi’s back.

“Did you have another drink?” Azzi asks, trying to walk them away from the booth, but Paige keeps her feet planted.

“I might’ve had another shot.” Paige grins, and Azzi would easily admit she likes it a lot more than muscle shirt’s. “Missed you, baby.”

The girls are pretending not to eavesdrop, but they’re clearly listening, sharing furtive glances with each other. Which is just—great. Because tomorrow the girls are going to have questions and Paige will be sober enough for that to stress her out, which will in turn stress Azzi out, and there will be no saving face if she lets Paige continue on like this.

“Not now, Paige,” she hisses, trying desperately to push her back.

Paige pouts. Their faces are far too close together. “What, you wanna go back to that guy or sum’?”

Azzi knows she’s not serious, but it still annoys her, and she doesn’t feel quite as comforted in Paige’s arms anymore. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood.”

Paige scoffs, maybe a little more serious now. “Course you aren’t.”

Azzi blinks at her, and when Paige’s hands drop to her sides she takes a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno.” Paige gestured between them. “Just that you never wanna be around me unless we’re fu—“

Azzi’s overstimulated and irritated, but she still has enough common sense to shove Paige hard enough to shut her up. “Don’t.”

Paige watches as Azzi drinks her other shot. “What? You really don’t want anybody to know, huh? You that embarrassed or something?”

Azzi shakes her head in disbelief, stepping back towards Paige so they can at least have this conversation too quiet for anybody to hear. “Are you dumb? You’re the one who wanted to keep this secret.”

“Because I didn’t want my teammates thinking I was distracted!”

“Our teammates, Paige.” Azzi gives her another little shove for good measure, and then she steps away again. “You’re acting stupid. Go chill out and come back when you wanna be normal.”

“Fine. I will.” With that, she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. Azzi rolls her eyes at her hot-headedness. They’re both too stubborn for their own good, but Paige is ten times worse when she’s drunk and Azzi has always been more logical. Little, senseless arguments like this never happened when they were dating—or even when they were broken up—but now that they’re at this weird in-between, they’re becoming more frequent.

Hence why they prefer to kiss instead of talk.

Azzi plops down beside Amari, grateful when nobody questions her, and feels a little better when she thinks about how good the make-up sex will be later.

—————————————

There will be no make-up sex tonight. Or ever, Azzi thinks bitterly, glaring daggers at the girl Paige is currently feeling up.

Okay, feeling up might be an overstatement. She has a hand on her arm. But Azzi knows better than anyone that for Paige, hand-on-arm action might as well be foreplay. And the girl seems to sense it, too, if her batting eyelashes and twinkling smile have anything to show for it.

“She’s just doing it to make you jealous.” Once again, it’s Caroline, sidling up next to Azzi to study the tall blonde across the bar.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” Azzi all but spits out, and Caroline smirks.

“Pretend all you want, Az. But it’s impossible to not see what’s going on with you and her.”

“There’s nothing.” Paige’s fingers trail down the length of the girl’s arm and it’s almost like Azzi can feel it, too.

“Are you guys exclusive?”

“No,” Azzi responds immediately, too tipsy to be thinking straight, and when Caroline smiles proudly to herself, she backtracks. “I mean, obviously not. We’re not anything.”

“Well, if you’re not exclusive, she’s not doing anything wrong.”

Azzi hates this bitter reminder and turns her anger onto her best friend. “Shut up, Carol.”

“You two should probably talk about not seeing other people,” Caroline says, as wise and perceptive as ever. (She is also significantly more sober than Azzi is.)

“She can see whoever she wants,” Azzi seethes, stirring the ice in her drink. “I don’t care.”

Paige’s eyes flit from the girl’s face to Azzi. And then, with a little smirk, she leans in to whisper something in her ear, blue eyes never leaving brown as the girl giggles and grabs onto her arm. She smiles, too, and Azzi takes some satisfaction in the fact the girl has no idea she’s not the one Paige is doing this for.

She’s always been good at putting up a show. And Azzi has always been her captive audience.

Not tonight, Azzi decides as she looks firmly away. It’s about time Paige learns to behave herself.

—————————————-

It’s been a long night of drinking and trying not to watch Paige attach herself to this random girl’s hip when Azzi is approached by none other than random girl herself.

She’s gorgeous up close, but Azzi can’t help but notice her brown curls and crescent dimples, the way they’re the exact same height. It nearly makes her laugh.

“Hey,” the girl says, dropping into the bar seat next to Azzi.

“Uh,” Azzi says, vey tipsy and very irate. “Hey.”

“What’s that? It looks so good,” the girl asks, pointing to her drink. Her voice is soft and kind, nothing malicious gleaming in her eyes. Azzi hates it.

“Just a mango daiquiri,” Azzi responds, kind of unable to be snarky about it with the wide-eyed way the girl is looking at her.

“Oh, fancy! I’m definitely gonna cop that.” She smiles conspiratorially at her. Azzi can’t help but smile back. Okay, now she just kind of hates herself. She’s never been one to be rude to girls she’s jealous of. Especially not harmless, sweet ones.

“It’s so good,” she’s saying before she can help it. “And they come in all different flavors so there’s like, endless possibilities.”

“Stop,” the girl gasps.

“I know!” and then they both giggle like the tipsy college students they are. This is possibly even better than hating her, because it’s almost like a smack in the face: look at me, Paige, being the bigger person. Making best friends with your target of the night. How’s that feel?

“Hey,” the girl giggles, leaning her elbows on the bar. “You’re Azzi, yeah? You play so good.”

“Thank you!” Azzi gushes, flashing her dimples as the girl does just the same. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Haven,” she replies. Even her name is nice. Azzi thinks about how Paige must’ve thought the same thing when they met a few hours ago, but she doesn’t like the thought, so she pushes it firmly away.

“Hey,” Haven says, sounding suddenly hesitant. “Um, I actually wanted to ask you something. About…Paige?”

Azzi’s eyes snap to where the blonde sits at the team’s booth—she always seems to know where Paige is in a room, though she never remembers tracking her movements—before she quickly looks back to Haven. “What about her?”

“Well…that,” she says.

“What?” Azzi asks, stirring her drink casually.

“The reaction you just had to me saying her name.”

Okay, so Azzi apparently does not appear as cool and collected as she thought. “Oh, that was just—I mean, she’s my best friend.”

“Yeah?” Haven asks. “Because I kinda got the impression y’all were…”

“No,” Azzi says, trying to contort her features into something like disgust. “Ew. Never.”

Haven raises her eyebrows. “Never?”

Why is everybody deciding to clock Paige and Azzi’s shit tonight? “Okay, like, maybe at one point. But it’s over.”

“Really.” She does not sound convinced at all. Glancing over at Paige, Haven leans forward, as if she’s afraid they’ll be heard. “It’s just, she keeps looking at you and you keep looking back and she was all over you earlier, so like—“

“I wouldn’t say she was all over me.”

“She totally was.” Haven’s looking at her like she’s clueless. “I just…listen, Paige invited me over tonight.” Azzi’s stomach drops. So definitely no make-up sex then. In fact, Azzi might as well pack up her vagina right now because Paige has ruined everybody else for her, too. “And I don’t wanna get in the middle of anything,” Haven continues, completely oblivious to Azzi’s internal vow of celibacy, “especially nothing messy.”

“Yeah, no, I totally get that.” Azzi sighs heavily; considering their situation is exactly what one might describe as messy, Azzi figures it’s probably the right thing to do to tell this poor girl the truth. “To be honest, we kinda are…I dunno. I mean, we fuck.”

“Okay,” Haven nods, sounding not at all surprised.

“She stays over most of the time. I stay at her’s sometimes, but she mostly stays at mine.”

“Spare toothbrushes in each other’s bathroom?”

Azzi winces. “Possibly.”

“Yeow.”

“And, like, generally, we don’t see other people. We used to, at the beginning, but not anymore. We were just talking about it today, actually. Well, not talking about it—we don’t talk about stuff. We’re not serious enough for Paige to wanna talk about stuff.” Azzi is rambling now, and Haven is hanging onto her every word, and Azzi thinks she loves making fast friends with other girls then realizes this is the exact thing that happens every time she gets drunk. Perhaps she crossed over that line awhile ago.

The two of them have their heads close together now, the rest of the bar completely shut out. “But anyway, she said something and I was like, what, you say that to all your bitches? You know, mostly joking but not.”

“Of course.”

“And she was all, no, baby, I would never ever have other bitches, don’t be mad,” Azzi says, deepening her tone in a stupid caricature of Paige’s voice.

Haven gasps. “That was today?”

“Like ten minutes before we came here.”

“And then she was all up on me tonight.” Haven glares in Paige’s direction. “Damn.”

“I know. But like, yeah, we’re not exclusive or anything so it’s fine. But it’s not, you know?”

“Oh, for sure. That’s fucked up,” Haven says haughtily. “So, wait, how long has this been going on for?”

“Uh…six months?” but no, that doesn’t feel right. “Well, I guess, like, four years? But six months.”

Haven blinks at her.

Azzi sighs. “We were super serious in high school.”

Haven nearly screams, slamming her hand on the bar. “She’s your ex?”

“Yes!” Azzi cries, and it feels so, so good for someone to understand her situation. “We were so in love and shit! And then things started feeling weird the summer before she came here—because, like, I’m a year younger than her so she was gonna be in college while I was still in high school and I—I could tell she didn’t wanna be tied down by her lame hometown girlfriend so I ended things.”

“Girl!” Haven yells.

“I had no other choiceeee,” Azzi groans. “She woulda broken up with me if I hadn’t broken up with her.”

“You’re crazy,” Haven says, shaking her head. “That girl is down bad.”

“Stop,” Azzi says, waving her off.

“She is, horrendously.” Haven gestures over to Paige. “As soon as you got to UConn she wanted to start something with you, right? And then y’all have a little tiff and she’s doing the most with another girl just to get your attention?”

“She asked you to go home with her,” Azzi points out. “That definitely wasn’t for my benefit.”

“Um, I’m sorry, have you not noticed how scary alike we look?” Haven asks, and Azzi flushes. “She was definitely gonna pretend I was you. Which I’m not down for, like, at all.”

“She’s such a dick,” Azzi says. Because she may have been in love with Paige Bueckers since high school, but yeah, she’s still kinda a dick.

“Totally,” Haven agrees. “But…

“Don’t tell me you’re about to defend her.”

“Listen!” Haven places her hands on Azzi’s shoulder. “I think her heart’s in the right place. She wants you. She’s just a little…misguided.”

Azzi shakes her head. “She was the one who said we couldn’t be serious. She said we couldn’t have ‘distractions’.”

“And you didn’t stop to think that maybe she was still insecure and hurt by the fact you broke up with her and was protecting herself from getting hurt again?”

Azzi blinks at this drunk, genius girl in front of her. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. You know what, I’m starting to think maybe you’re both a little stupid.”

Azzi shoves her. “Don’t get so cocky, you could be wrong!”

“I could,” Haven admits. “But where would that leave you? With an asshole ex-girlfriend who messes with your head for fun?”

Azzi thinks maybe, if they didn’t look so uncannily alike, she could kiss this girl. “I love you.”

“Girl, I love you more.” Haven pats her arm and leans back on her barstool. “Now take Auntie Haven’s advice and give her the silent treatment for a few days. She’ll realize her mistakes and come running back real quick.”

“What if I don’t wanna take her back?” Azzi says, already knowing it’s bullshit.

“You do. But you gotta make her work for it. And then you have to communicate with her.”

Azzi makes a face. “Didn’t I already tell you we don’t like talking?”

Haven rubs her temples. “There’s your main fucking problem, Azzi.”

It’s then that Haven’s eyes trail to something over her shoulder and before Azzi can ask there’s a large, warm, all-too-familiar ringed hand on her shoulder. “What’re you two talking about over here?”

Azzi looks first at the hand on her shoulder, then slowly up to Paige’s face. Paige raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer, and then Azzi looks back at Haven, meeting her eyes.

And then they laugh.

“What?” Paige nearly demands.

Azzi brushes her hand off, still giggling. “Leave us alone, Paige.”

“I just didn’t know y’all knew each other,” Paige says, and Azzi delights at how confused she sounds. “Because you two seem pretty buddy-buddy over here.”

“Didn’t realize you were watching so closely,” Haven quips. Azzi giggles.

“Never said I was.” Paige moves from behind Azzi, going to stand beside them, studying them closely. “You two are drunk as hell.”

“So are you!” Haven and Azzi both say at the same time, and tears are forming at this point. Azzi holds on to Haven’s knee to keep herself from falling off her chair.

“Aight, yeah, I’m getting you an Uber,” Paige says to Haven, before touching Azzi’s arm, “And I’ma walk you home.”

“I can get my own Uber,” Haven says haughtily, but Paige already has her phone out.

Once again, Azzi bats Paige’s hand away. “I don’t wanna go home with you.”

Paige rolls her eyes, still navigating through her phone. “I figured, Az. But we live in the same building. Just lemme walk you.”

“You’re not sober enough to walk me.”

“I’ve been drinking water for the past hour, I’m pretty much good.” Paige shuts her phone off and looks at Haven. “You car’ll be here in fifteen.”

“Wish you were pretty much good a couple hours ago,” Azzi grumbles.

Paige’s expression becomes a little less nonchalant at that. “I know, mama, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

And that almost works. But then Haven sends her a warning glare and she straightens up. “No, thanks.”

Paige’s face scrunches up like it always done when she’s shocked, and Azzi hates that it’s still the cutest thing in the world. “Whatchu mean?”

“Exactly that,” Azzi says, standing from her barstool. Her butt is sore from sitting for so long. “And I’ll walk home with the rest of the team, thanks.”

Paige splutters. Haven gives her the middle finger.

—————————————

Later, when they are walking home—stumbling, more accurately—Azzi is leaning against Aubrey when she hears familiar footfalls coming up behind them and braces herself.

“Hey, Azzi,” Paige calls, catching her arm as she catches up. “Come walk with me.”

“I wanna walk with Aubrey,” Azzi says petulantly.

Aubrey looks awkwardly between the two of them.

“Bro, just—“ Paige stops, mindful of their audience. “Let’s just talk, okay?”

“No, thanks.”

“Azzi, c’mon.”

“I’m drunk and I’m cold and I’m mad at you. Leave me alone.”

Paige looks desperately to Aubrey for help. Aubrey just shrugs and says, “What’m I supposed to do? She said what she said.”

“Thank you,” Azzi huffs.

“Man, fuck this,” Paige says. Azzi feels very satisfied when Paige falls back, leaving her alone. But her arm also tingles where Paige had caught it.

Oh, yeah. This makeup sex had better be good for the trouble she’s going through.

—————————————

It isn’t until the next day that, during a car ride with Caroline, Azzi disovers it.

The two of them have always had similar music tastes, so when an unfamiliar song comes on over the speaker, she’s a little surprised. However, as she listens to the lyrics, she finds herself even more surprised at how much they resonate with her.

I could go and read your mind

Think about your dumb face all the time

Living in your glass house I’m outside

“Hey,” she says, “what song is this?”

“That’s So True,” Caroline answers, still staring ahead at the road. “By Gracie Abrams. Why?”

Looking into big blue eyes

Did it just to hurt me, make me cry

Smiling through it all, yeah, that’s my life

“Oh,” Azzi says casually, “no reason.”

——————————————

It becomes very apparent there is a reason when, over the next week, the song becomes everyone else’s problem.

So apparent, in fact, that the team actually starts to worry about her.

“What did you do to her?” Aaliyah asks as soon as Paige walks into the apartment.

“You broke her,” Amari says.

“That stupid song kept me up all night and it’s your fault,” Aubrey continues, pointing menacingly at Paige.

“I didn’t do nothing!” Paige says, backing away from her angry friends.

“You better fix it,” Amari says. “Like, now.”

“Fix what?”

Oddly, they all go quiet at this. Paige is about to ask what’s up with them when music begins blasting from somewhere in the dorm.

“That,” Aaliyah says.

Paige scrunches her nose. “Bad pop music?”

“It is not bad,” Caroline says defensively, joining them in the entryway. When she gets judgmental looks from the other girls, she sighs. “Okay, it wasn’t bad. But Azzi’s been listening to it nonstop for a week and it used to be my favorite song and now I’m sick of it.”

“We’re all sick of it,” Amari adds unhelpfully.

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Paige says, but of course she’s lying. From what she can make out the lyrics are about a break up, maybe, something to do with jealousy and anger. With the way Azzi’s been dodging her this week (calls sent straight to voicemail, texts left on read, not even a hint of eye contact when they see each other) she knows she fucked up at the party.

It’s not like them to fight—really, it’s not. They’ve gotten into more arguments this year than they have in their entire friendship. Obviously, there’s a correlation there, something major signaling that this whole friends-with-benefits thing doesn’t work for them. Or maybe it does. Maybe it’s the whole best-friends-who-dated-then-became-exes-then-friends-with-benefits thing that they can’t do.

But either way—fights? Like, actual fights that Paige can’t talk (or kiss) their way out of? Those are rare.

She didn’t think their argument at the bar was that big a deal. Didn’t even think her flirting with another girl would make Azzi mad. (She’d been hoping for jealousy because dysfunctional as they may be, the sex is really good and it’s even better when one of them is all riled up).

She has a sneaky feeling this all has to do with that girl at the bar. Haven. The cute one who looked a lot like Azzi and seemed super into Paige until she turned around and became best friends with none other than Azzi herself. She should’ve known that would happen. Azzi always makes friends when she gets drunk.

She just wishes this bout of silence (and celibacy) between them would end already.

“You can’t be serious,” Amari says.

Paige shrugs.

“We all know you two are fucking, Paige,” Caroline says quite bluntly.

And, okay, the sheer panic that Paige feels at this is maybe a little ridiculous.

She never wanted the team—anyone, really—to know she and Azzi were back together. Because, well, they weren’t, for one, and there’s no good way to tell your parents, “Hey, you know how I was super emo about how the love of my life broke up with me before college? Yeah, well, it’s been a year and I’m not totally over it but I fucked her in the bathroom at a club and we’re going steady—as in, fucking—now!”

But the main reason she didn’t want anybody to know is because she was—is—so afraid of having her heart broken again. And if she keeps this to herself, then she gets to act like she doesn’t care if history repeats itself. Gets to move on and not think about it and use other people as rebounds without anybody batting an eye.

But it’s been six months of them going from friends with benefits to best friends who also kiss and have sex to best friends who kiss and have sex exclusively with each other. She may have gotten a little too cocky, may have thought they were finding solid ground, and may have not put so much effort into hiding it.

But Azzi hasn’t spoken to her for a week and she doesn’t even remember what solid ground feels like anymore so yeah, the notion of her friends knowing about them when they may be on the brink of ending is a little scary.

“Okay,” Amari says tentatively when Paige stares blankly at them, “don’t freak. It’s not a big deal. We don’t care.”

“No, I—I know,” Paige stutters.

“Seriously, P, it’s cool,” Aubrey says, patting her shoulder. “Just, you know, go fix it.”

That song has played three consecutive times since this conversation started. They may be right. Paige might’ve broken her.

Might’ve broken them.

“And while you’re at it,” Caroline adds, giving her a little push in the direction of Azzi’s room, “make sure you guys are official so we don’t have to deal with this again.”

Paige tries to plant her feet to prevent her advance towards Azzi, but Aubrey rounds to her front and starts pulling at her arms while Amari pushes and then she’s directly in front of a door with a pink ‘welcome’ sign hanging off the front. As that song thuds accusingly through the door, Paige doesn’t feel very welcome.

“Okay, stop being a pussy,” Aaliyah pipes up from behind them, “and go in there. Please.”

“Make it stop,” Aubrey says. She almost sounds like she’s about to cry.

Paige stares at them, wondering if they’re really going to make her do this. But they all nod at her before disappearing down the hall so it’s just Paige in front of Azzi’s door and she could leave, could just go back home but she’d never hear the end of it from her teammates. (And she might end up hating herself if she does that, too.)

So, with a deep, steadying breath, Paige lifts her fist and knocks.

“Coming,” Azzi calls. Blessedly, the song turns off and there’s some rustling inside before the door creaks open.

Paige expects a lot of things when Azzi first sees her—anger, upset, a door slamming in her face.

What she doesn’t expect is the satisfied smile that flits across Azzi’s face before she carefully fixes her expression into something more somber.

“Uh, hey,” Paige says. “Can I—“

“Come in,” Azzi says gravely, opening the door all the way to let her through.

“Uh, aight.” Nervously, Paige walks past Azzi, a little afraid that is some sort of trap based off the strange way she’s acting. Once she’s inside and the door’s shut, she faces the younger girl, though doesn’t quite look her in the eye. “So, I just…you know, about the other night. At Ted’s.”

Azzi nods. “Go on.”

“Well, I know I started that lil argument and I feel bad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was just drunk and I wanted your attention so I acted stupid.”

Azzi crosses her arms impatiently. Paige wishes she had written this down and practiced beforehand or something.

“And with that other girl—“

“Her name’s Haven,” Azzi says sharply.

Paige blinks at her, surprised. “Yeah. Her. Well—“

“She’s actually really nice. We’ve been texting.”

Paige can’t help but scoff a little at that. “What, you gonna leave me for her or sum’?”

“We look related, so no,” Azzi says, raising an eyebrow. “And if I remember right, I thought it was you asking her to come to your place that night.”

Shit. So the two of them really did talk about everything. That’s not great for her.

“I didn’t mean it,” Paige says, which is very much true—she doesn’t know what she would’ve done if Haven had agreed to come over that night, but she certainly wouldn’t have kissed her. “I just, we were arguing and I wanted to make you jealous so we could, like, kiss and make up.”

Azzi crosses the room to sit on her bed, and Paige hovers awkwardly, wondering if she should follow. She decides on staying put. “I was jealous,” Azzi says. “But it just pissed me off.”

“I know, and it was a stupid thing to do.”

“I just—I thought we weren’t really, like, seeing other people.”

Paige freezes. This is completely outside of argument-at-Ted’s territory and it seems a little more like serious-talk-about-us time. Which Paige is just not prepared for at all. She should’ve made notecards for this.

“I mean—we aren’t—but, like…” Paige trails off, and she knows it’s bad how uncertain she sounds when hurt flashes over Azzi’s expression.

“Have you? Been seeing other people,” she asks, and Paige can tell she’s trying to sound nonchalant, putting on a brave face, but in reality she’s terrified of the answer.

Paige rushes to reassure her. “No, Az, no. Not a—seriously, not a single person. Not since that day at the club.” Not since the day Azzi came to UConn, if she’s being a little more accurate. But Azzi doesn’t need to know that.

Again, Azzi tries to act like it doesn’t affect her. But Paige knows her far too well—far too intimately—to miss the way her features relax, her shoulders lowering just a little bit. “Me neither,” she says softly.

Paige lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding at that. “Okay.”

“So…what does that mean?” Azzi asks tentatively.

Now that Azzi seems a little less guarded, Paige takes her chance to sit beside her on the bed, though not too close. “I dunno,” she says lamely, but when she’s met with a heavily annoyed silence, she sighs and tries desperately to think something up. “I mean. We can’t really be casual and exclusive. That’s not really how that works.”

“Yeah,” Azzi says.

Paige waits for her to pick up the conversation at least a little, but she doesn’t, and Paige is forced to go on. “I don’t—I think it’s not even something I want anymore. The whole casual thing.”

It’s hard, getting the words out, like each syllable is a barrier being broken, and maybe it is. Paige looks down at her hands, fiddles with them, anything so she doesn’t have to watch Azzi’s reaction.

“Paige,” Azzi says quietly.

And when Paige catches the hesitancy in her tone—the fear—she is suddenly too desperate and maybe even too in love to keep quiet just because it’s hard. Because she can’t do this, not again. She can’t watch Azzi walk away without at least putting up a fight.

“I know what I did was wrong,” Paige blurts out before Azzi can say anything else. She looks up, stares at the wall ahead, before turning to Azzi. She tries to detect the look in her eyes and what it may mean, but can’t. “At Ted’s. And I’m sorry. I guess I just—these past six months have been so—I mean, they’ve been good, but they’ve also been super fucking confusing and kinda scary, too. It’s like I’m always on edge waiting for you to end things, so whenever we get too close to how we were—before, in high school—I back out, no matter how hard it is. No matter how good it feels to have you again.”

Azzi opens her mouth, the beginning of a word escaping, but Paige’s heart races and she stands, stopping her. “But I’m realizing that I don’t think I can do that with you. I don’t think I can be just friends with you, or friends with benefits, or even whatever the hell it is we’ve been doing. Every day since you ended things I’ve been a fucking wreck, Azzi.” And it’s true. Her freshmen year had been hard, spent sleeping with random caramel-skinned, dimpled girls to try and fill the Azzi-shaped void in her heart. And the summer after was hell, too, reconnecting with Azzi long-distance and trying to become friends again, acting like they were never anything more. And the past six months has been the worst of it all, because having Azzi but not really having her, keeping her at an arm’s length and teetering on this edge of will she do it again and when will it happen proving almost painful.

Azzi stands, too, stepping in front of her, tilting her chin just slightly up to make eye contact like she’s always had to do. “I didn’t want that, Paige,” she says, almost as if she’s pleading. “I wanted—I thought you’d have more fun if you were single. I thought you’d resent me for, like, tying you down.”

Paige looks at Azzi for a solid few seconds, trying to discern whether she’s fucking with her. And when Azzi doesn’t laugh or tell her this was all a stupid prank she turns around, pushes her hand through her hair, and then faces her again. “Are you fucking for real?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says sheepishly. “I thought—I don’t know. I was also sixteen and stupid and insecure, and I just wanted to make you happy. I didn’t think about what I wanted.” She looks down at her feet. “Didn’t realize how hard it’d be.”

“Yeah, you were stupid,” Paige snaps, and when Azzi flinches, she takes a step towards her. “You really thought that I’d—what, not want you? Want to fucking break up so I could hoe around?”

“Kind of!” Azzi says, throwing her hands in the air. “Things already felt off that summer before you left—“

“Because I didn’t want to leave you!” Paige practically shouts, and she wonders briefly why they never bothered to discuss this before. “I had no idea what I was gonna do when we were so far apart, but you know what? We could have handled it. We could’ve handled a year. I wanted to handle it, if it meant we could stay together.” She takes another step closer, so they’re face-to-face now. “I thought you were bored of me or sum’, you know? I was so fucking hurt.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you!” Azzi cries. “Obviously I wasn’t bored, Paige, or I wouldn’t have jumped your fucking bones the minute I got to school.”

“And obviously I didn’t wanna be single or I wouldn’t have let you!”

Silence washes over them, and Paige is sure she could hear a pin drop, almost as sure as she is that their teammates are thoroughly listening to this argument outside the door. But she doesn’t care. Not when she’s looking close-up at the girl she’s loved forever and seeing her for the first time in almost two years—inches apart without hidden hurt or secret regrets tucked between them.

They’re both breathing heavy, both affected by everything they’ve just said and everything that still needs to be said but it’s not a surprise that they hold each other’s gazes, both too stubborn to be the first to look away.

And when the eye contact becomes too much for Paige to bear, she decides she will not chicken out, will not let her trepidations hold her back this time. And she leans forward and kisses her.

They’ve kissed—a million times, probably. Maybe more. At this point, they’ve learned each other down to the last breath, the last hair on their heads. They know exactly where to put their hands, exactly how to tell what the other is feeling based off the way they move their lips, exactly what things to say in between kisses. But despite all that, this—this feels brand new. Gentle, and tentative, but excited, too, like they know it’s the mark of something different. Something better.

———————————-

A week later, when Paige appears at her doorstep with a nervous little smile and flowers to take her on their second-first date, Paige asks her about the ‘lame girly song’ she’d been playing on repeat. Azzi tells her the song is not, in fact, lame, and is actually really quite good. She doesn’t admit that she can’t listen to it anymore.

(And, because I know you’re all wondering—yes, the makeup sex was as good as Azzi’d hoped.)

[springwitch8]

flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

[heartlogan]

living to lose

✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (set in worst wolverine’s universe)

✮— summary: logan won’t wear the suit.

✮— a/n: this is gonna be kinda short, but i am in <3 w the concept. (i wrote this in less than an hour bro) i haven’t seen this before so .. lmk if yall want a longer version . perhaps a series ? if yall do, let me know what power reader should have !! and perhaps a nickname 🫡

✮— warnings: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS, humans vs mutants, and all the prejudice that comes with that, talk of mutants being killed for being mutants etc, xmen bonding, angst, canon typical violence (kinda? mentioned?), logan being stubborn, lmk if theres more!

masterlist | part two

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Life in the X-Mansion wasn’t what it once was.

If you were honest, life itself had begun to lose that glow that it once had. You supposed that it was hard to retain it when every day you were faced with the reality that humans wanted you all dead. And sure, it wasn’t like you hadn’t known that before, but each day you saw news stories coming out about mutants killed in the street, the X-Men were called out constantly to assist in human and mutant matters, and were always met with hatred.

You just wished that people could coexist. Would that be so difficult? For the humans to realise that mutants weren’t that much different from themselves, not really. Everyone had the fundamental building blocks of human DNA, mutants just so happened to have the X gene thrown in the mix.

Still, there were positives to life. Such as Logan, for you, because you were pretty sure Scott wouldn’t categorise him as a positive.

There had been something unspoken between the two of you for almost a decade, stretching across hundreds of battles and memories. Neither of you had actually brought yourselves to talk about it, both too afraid of loss.

But every night when he struggled to sleep, he joined you in your own bed. An incredible progression of your relationship, really, because it wasn’t like Logan to actually ask for help. Not that he did much talking on those nights. Every time you needed comfort after a painful mission, he was there, brooding silently at your side. A hand on the small of your back, or around your shoulders, if you were lucky.

He refused to acknowledge his role in your life, or his role on the team, no matter how much everybody begged him to.

The infamous Wolverine was so intimidated by the idea of admitting he cared, so scared that it would turn out like his past relationships, that he couldn’t bring himself to accept his place in your lives. He was stubborn, and wouldn’t allow anybody to have leverage over him.

It was another afternoon call out, a mutant in distress, and humans harassing whoever it was. It was bound to get violent, which was why everybody was suiting up.

“C’mon, Logan, just wear the suit.” You said, brows furrowed as you held the folded suit out towards him, watching him roll his eyes. “You’re a part of the team. Wear it.”

“She’s right, Logan.” Storm agreed, already clad in her own suit, much like yourself. It presented a united front, a symbol for other mutants that there was hope out there for them, no matter how dire the world seemed.

“Fuck, no.” Logan responded immediately, voice gruff and dismissive, barely sparing the yellow spandex a glance before he was turning away, grabbing his own jacket from its hanger. “Yellow ain’t my colour, bub.” He grumbled when he felt your eyes still on him, practically carving a hole in the back of his head.

“Logan.” You said pleadingly, feeling disheartened. “We all wear it. You’ll look as handsome as you ever do, I swear.” You attempted, although you weren’t naive enough to believe that the almighty Wolverine could have his mind changed via flattery.

He might have admitted, in another life, that you made the yellow work extremely well. That he knew the team looked good in it, looked put together, almost untouchable. But that wasn’t this life. And he refused to let anybody believe he actually wanted to be a part of this godforsaken self-righteous team that named themselves the X-Men. That wasn’t him. It wouldn’t be him.

Scott wandered in, clad in his own suit, matching visor and all. “It’s not gonna work, guys. I’ve tried. Logan’s far too stubborn.” He said, and none of you could see his eyes, but his disappointment was palpable. Logan only grunted in response.

“Fine,” You said, and he could hear the disappointment despite this not being the first time he had denied the suit. It had been a debate for a long while, by now. “I’ll leave it with you. Just in case you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” Logan said, with an air of finality. You said nothing.

The four of you headed out to the distress call not long after, three in cohesive suits, one decidedly not.

It turned into a fight, as most calls do nowadays, which lasted for what felt like ages. You returned, feeling more exhausted than you had in days. The humans only got more violent with time, inventing new and more powerful ways to hurt mutants. Weapons were being developed against mutant-kind with every day that passed, and it wasn’t lost on the X-Men. Your job was only getting harder and harder. And it was taking its toll on all of you.

“‘M goin’ to the bar. You coming?” Logan asked you, standing in front of where you sat on the couch with Storm, both still in your suits and equally tired. He raised his brows at you, indicating that this was a timed offer. You knew he would be out most of the night, getting as drunk as his healing factor would allow him. It wasn’t that kind of night for you.

“No, thanks. I’m gonna stay with the others.” You answered quietly, wanting nothing more than to marinate in your frustration with the rest of the team.

Logan looked at you for a second longer, hesitating for only a moment, before he grunted and stepped away. You could’ve sworn that he looked disappointed, as though he was hoping you would join him, or maybe ask him to stay. But you knew better, had become familiar with the sting of his rejection each time you had asked him to stay.

You wanted him to be a permanent feature of the X-Mansion, to stay after long missions, to not disappear for weeks at a time. You wanted the whole unspoken thing to become spoken at last, even if it hurt, but you knew he wasn’t ready for it. And despite you feeling similarly, feeling that exact same fear he felt, you knew he wasn’t willing to take on the challenge. To try. Hell, he wouldn’t even wear the suit.

If he had asked whether you wanted him to stay, you would’ve said yes without thought. Without hesitation. But Logan wouldn’t put himself in that situation, so he never did ask. He only hesitated. And for you, that wasn’t enough.

He knew it, too, which might have been the worst part of it all.

You watched him leave, heard the slam of the door behind him not long after, and could only sigh to yourself.

“Everything okay?” Storm asked you from the opposite end of the couch, tilting her head towards you from where she had been idly staring at the ceiling. She looked as though she knew the answer, whether she had already known, or had gotten it from the look on your face, though, you weren’t sure.

“D’you think he’ll ever stick around? Wear the suit?” You questioned her in response, fixing your eyes on the fireplace in front of you for a few moments before her silence became too much. You looked at her, confused and slightly concerned.

She looked as downtrodden as you felt, which was saying something. “I… don’t know. I hope so, but… hope is a feeble thing, in this world. I’m not sure it means much anymore.”

Beast wandered in, with Scott at his side, blue fur still singed from a battle a few days prior. “I’m sure he will come around. Logan is a stubborn man, but a good one.” He commented, pushing his glasses further up his nose, but still squinting through them as he found his place in an armchair.

“We’ll see. Maybe we can make an X-Man of him, yet.” Scott added, sinking into the sofa cushion between you and Storm, wearing his glasses rather than his visor, for once. You thought could almost see the shape of his eyes, through the red lens.

“Either way, I’m sure he’ll linger. If not for us, then for those poor kids. We have all seen how much they idolise him.” Storm said, which was true, but still stung slightly. You wished that Logan would linger for you, too, but you knew it wasn’t likely. But for the kids… well, he might just look back for them.

“He’s their hero.” You agreed quietly, before resting your head on Scott’s shoulder. He said nothing, but you felt his quiet appreciation of the touch. The team needed comfort, in times like these, you included. Beast reached over and took Storm’s hand not long after, and you saw her squeeze him in response.

Jean wandered in not too long later, having been busy helping to look after the new mutant in the medbay. You made space for her between you and Scott, and resumed your position on her shoulder. She rested her head on your own, and the five of you breathed quietly, not speaking. There was nothing much to speak about, nothing that could comfort you, anyway. The world continued its descent into chaos and hatred, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, nothing any of you did would be changing it.

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It was Beast raising the alarm that woke you up, and Jean jolted awake soon after you.

“The humans, they’re here!” He shouted, diving into action, with Storm and Scott following soon after while you and Jean shared a single glance, her eyes filled with terror.

“Get the kids!” You yelled to her, as you jumped from the couch, heading to confront the humans with Scott, Beast and Storm. All the while, you were wondering where Logan was.

It was a thought that remained present in the back of your head, a wish that he was safe, unharmed. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to show up, to be the hero all of the kids knew him to be, or whether you wanted him far away, safe from what you were certain would be a lethal encounter.

The humans wouldn’t just come to the X-Mansion lightly. They would be prepared. Armed to the teeth, you were sure. And the moment you caught a glance outside of the window, seeing the crowds outside, glints of machinery and weapons, you knew you were right.

For a moment, you thought you saw him out there, until the two humans stepped apart, shattering the illusion of their shadows. The call of his name died on your lips.

“X-Men, to me.” Scott called out, and his grave expression told you that he had already had the same realisation as you. Most of you, if any at all, wouldn’t be getting out of this alive.

“Together?” Storm questioned, eyes glowing that bright white that only added to her ethereal look. She locked eyes with you, and you nodded firmly.

“Together.”