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marvelstoriesepic · 2 days ago

Text

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

870 notes · View notes

lvl1l1 · 2 days ago

Note

Yes hello I will sell my soul to you if you give us a “who did this to you” type reaction with the love and deep space boys WAIT walk with me their lover calls them trying not to cry asking them to come get them they show up BAM they see them with bruises barley holding it together the ask what happened BAM AGAIN tears just crying as they explain that someone they kind of knew made a pass at them and when they were shut down they hit them yeah they are a hunter but they were so stunned who’s losing it and about to commit a crime and who’s silently about to actually ruin their whole life for hitting their princess that the boys would love and die for

All seriousness I know I made light of the reaction but I fully understand the serious implications of it if you don’t feel comfortable or that this is maybe to heavy to post feel free to ignore it I couldn’t find any rules about what you wouldn’t write for I hope this request doesn’t make you uncomfortable or is triggering in any way and if it is I sincerely and deeply apologize

“Who did this to you?”

Or: LaDS men when someone hurts you

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader

WARNINGS: assault, harassment(please lmk if I missed smth)

content: hurt/comfort

a/n: someone tell me if the new format looks better

Xavier

The apartment was so quiet without you there.

Xavier was lying in bed, awake for a change.

He originally planned on taking a nap but as he noticed your side of the mattress being cold and untouched, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Sleep refused to come to him, while you were still out with your friends.

He couldn’t resist the unease in the back of his mind, gnawing at him.

He kept his phone close, just in case you needed him.

He finally felt his eyelids getting heavier, when the shrill buzz of his phone brought him back.

Your name lit up the screen and he instantly sat up.

His lips curled up into a small smile.

He picked up, anticipating your sweet voice.

But the moment he answered, all he was met with, were soft, broken sobs.

He felt the blood in his veins freeze.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice missing its usually composure.

His was already moving before his mind had even caught up.

His posture was rigid as he got off the bed.

“Xavier, can you come get me, please?”

Your voice cracked, barely being above a whisper.

Before you could even hear his reply, Xavier already teleported across the city, he couldn’t be bothered to grab a jacket or change his clothes.

The moment he appeared before you, his heart broke.

You were standing under a flickering streetlight, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if to hold yourself together.

Tears were running down your cheeks and there was a slight tremble throughout your body.

But what made his hands curl into fists, were the bruises on your face, ugly, purple marks marking your perfect skin.

He didn’t move at first.

He couldn’t.

The fury raging inside of him was dangerous, violent.

He felt, that if he moved a muscle, he’d lose the weak grip he had on his restraint.

His jaw was locked, eyes raking over your form, taking in all your injuries.

His voice came out quietly, deathly calm but laced with barely contained anger.

“Who did this to you?”

You sniffled, forcing out the words,

“I thought he was a friend. The others left, we were standing here together and then-“

You interrupted yourself by choking on your words,

“He was-“

You inhaled deeply, trying to pull yourself together,

“When I rejected him, he got angry. He hurt me.”

The world around Xavier blurred momentarily, he felt consumed by the rage running through him, his ears were ringing.

But louder than that, was the sound of you, crying.

That’s what pulled him back.

You first

You were always first

He approached you, slow, careful steps, with his arms open but he wasn’t forcing you.

He was waiting, waiting for you to come to him.

You stumbled forward, collapsing into his chest.

The way he held you was oh so tender, one hand caressing the back of your head, the other drawing soothing circles into your back.

He was shaking now, not out of anger but the overwhelming desire to protect, to heal, to be enough to make all your pain go away.

“I’m here.”

He whispered into your hair,

“You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you again. I swear to you.”

Your sobs only came out stronger and he simply held you tighter, encouraging you to let it all out.

Minutes passed like that. Hours, maybe. Time didn't matter.

Once your cries finally turned softer, becoming hiccuping breaths, he pulled back just enough to tilt your head up.

His usually bright eyes were burning with something darker, colder.

“His name. Tell me.”

His voice was low, dangerous

You hesitated but you knew Xavier.

You knew he wouldn’t let this go, not when it came to you.

You whispered the name and watched Xavier’s expression harden into something even more terrifying.

“Let’s get you home.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing away any left over tears.

“I’ll have to go for a bit after.”

There was a finality in his words, a promise.

You grabbed onto his sleeve weakly,

“Xavier, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

He looked down at you, pausing and his gaze softened again.

“For you,”

His voice a murmur,

“there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

In the blink of an eye, he brought you home, before turning.

The night swallowed him up, like a silent predator.

He was going to hunt down the man who dared to hurt the one who was most precious to him.

Zayne

Zayne stepped out of the hospital, watching as the last golden rays of the setting sun stretched across the city.

It had been another long day and he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Just as he reached his car, his phone buzzed up.

A smile immediately curled onto his lips, as your name flashed on his phone screen.

Maybe you had finished up shopping just in time for him to come pick you up.

He answered on the first ring,

“Hello, darling-“

But he stopped mid sentence, when he heard a soft sniffle.

His heart plummeted.

Your name softly left his lips,

“What happened?”

His voice was sharp with panic now, he felt his muscles tensing.

Fighting your sobs, you tried to explain, while tripping over your words.

You ran into this guy you barely even knew.

At first, it seemed harmless enough, just engaging in some casual small talk with him.

Your answers were short and clipped, trying to be polite.

Then, when you tried to leave, he wouldn’t let you.

He blocked your way, getting increasingly more aggressive when you made it clear you weren’t interested.

Zayne tighten his grip on his phone, something tightening in his chest as he heard how the situation had escalated.

How you had gotten hurt.

You sounded so small. So scared.

“I’m on my way.”

He said firmly, getting into his car.

“Stay on the phone with me, alright? Tell me where you are.”

You gave him the name of grocery store, telling him you were waiting in the parking lot.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, as he weaved through traffic, dreading every second he wasn’t by your side.

You kept talking.

Or rather, he kept you talking.

His voice was low and steady, even when you fell silent, he didn’t rush you, didn’t push.

Just making sure you knew he was there.

When he pulled into the parking lot, his breath caught in his throat.

You were sitting there, curled up on the curb.

Bruises visible on your skin, he noticed your wrist swelling from afar and the blood drying on the corner of your mouth.

But what really got him, was the hollow look in your eyes.

He wasted no time getting out of the car, he crossed the distance with long strides.

The moment you lifted your head and saw him, the tears started back up and you let out a broken sob.

You got to your feet, feeling almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Zayne. You’ve been working all day, I shouldn’t have dragged you here-“

He cut you off, his hands cupping your face gently, so carefully as to not hurt you further.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise for needing me.”

You could hear the emotion in his voice,

“I’m glad you called. You could never be a burden. Never.”

You finally let your body relax, falling into him and he caught you, arms wrapping around you, securely.

You two stayed still like that for a long moment, he was holding you safe against him and you clung to him.

He pulled back slightly, he brushed your hair out of your eyes, tenderly.

"Let’s get you taken care of."

He said softly.

He lead you to his car, opening the door for you and helping you in, a display of gentle care that made your eyes well back up.

The drive to the hospital was filled be a comfortable silence.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other rested on your knee in a silent reminder, showing you that he was by your side.

As soon as you arrived, Zayne parked hastily.

He held your hand as he helped you inside.

His face was grim and his whole body was tense but every time he looked at you, his gaze softened.

Once inside, he immediately called over Dr. Greyson.

After a few short, urgent words, Greyson took you under his care, leading you to a hospital room.

Zayne squeezed your hand before letting go.

"I'll be right here."

He said, voice low but certain.

As the door shut behind you, your boyfriend stood still before it.

He could feel his usually steady hands clenching at his sides.

His mind was racing, needing to make sure the man who did this to you would never come near you, or anyone else for that matter, again.

He sighed, thinking of how to best comfort you later.

Zayne would take care of everything.

You were safe now.

Rafayel

Rafayel stood off to the side of the gallery’s floor.

He thought tonight’s exhibition to be especially insufferably boring, the pretentious crowd leaving him annoyed.

He would’ve flat out refused Thomas if it hadn’t been for your soft kisses earlier that evening and your promise that you’d be fine hanging out with your friends.

That, however, didn’t stop him from mourning the time he knew he could’ve spend together with you instead.

All night, his mind kept drifting to you, your smile, your hand that had lingered on his cheek as you said goodbye.

He kept checking his phone, hoping for a message from you.

Nothing yet.

Some keen socialite kept trying to converse with him, throwing buzzwords around that he couldn’t care less for.

His phone finally vibrated against his palm.

Rafayel didn’t excuse himself, he simply turned and left, not sparing them another glance.

He lifted the phone to his ear, a grin pulling at his lips.

Then, he heard you.

You were crying.

His playful demeanour vanished in an instant.

He felt his heart constricting in his chest and his body snapped to attention.

“Where are you?”

His voice was low and commanding, not leaving any room for arguments, sounding like he was ready to tear through anything that stood in his way.

You managed to choke out your location through your sobs, somewhere a few blocks away from the location you had initially met your friends at.

You softly asked if he could pick you, not wanting to cause him any trouble.

“Trouble?”

He echoed darkly,

“I’m on my way already. Find a store and stay inside. Don’t leave until you see me.”

Rafayel hung up without another word, heading straight for the exit, ignoring the confused calls from the people around him and Thomas’s protests.

Non of that mattered. Nothing aside from you mattered.

The drive to you was a blur of red lights and the sound of cars honking, nothing that made him slow down.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel so tightly, the leather was creaking under his grip.

It was like the only thought on his mind was you.

You were standing by the door of a small convenience store, when he finally pulled up.

Your eyes were wide and red from crying.

Once you spotted his car, relief washed over your posture and Rafayel was out of the car and by your side in seconds.

He reached for you, one hand gently wrapping around your elbow and the other ghosting above your waist as he looked you up and down.

Bruises. Bloody fabric. The fear still lingering in your wide eyes.

Rafayel’s jaw clenched so hard the thought his teeth might end up cracking.

His body and mind were screaming for him to do something, to destroy someone but he forced himself to stay soft and gentle with you.

“What happened, cutie?”

He asked in a low tone,

He noticed the way you hesitated first but then you opened up.

You told him how your friends had all left one by one until you were alone with a man you barely knew.

You tried to leave before things got weird, but things ended up getting weird anyway.

He started making gross, inappropriate comments and when you tried to shake him off, he followed.

And lastly how when you turned him down for good, he decided to hurt you.

Rafayel didn’t interrupt you once as you were speaking.

He listened in silence, drinking in every word, every tremble of your voice and every tear that slid down your cheeks.

Once you finished, he pulled you into his arms, the way he touched you was so soft, so careful, almost reverent.

Like he was afraid any amount of pressure could hurt you.

As he held you close, he pressed his face into the top of your head, inhaling deeply.

“I got you.”

He murmured.

“I’m not letting go.”

He wasn’t pushing for the man’s name, not yet.

He wouldn’t ask for details he could find out later.

Right now, all you needed was him.

He carefully lead you to his car, helping you settle in.

You two spend the rest of the night relaxing.

Once you had gotten back home, he took all the time in the world to tend to you.

He gently cleaned the scrapes on your arms and knees.

He gave you one of his sweaters, having it frame you like a shield.

He made you drink water, brought you warm towels and curled around you on the couch.

Once exhaustion overtook you, you drifted off to sleep, leaning against him, your fingers curled loosely in his shirt.

And only when he was certain, that you were fast asleep, your breathing steady, did Rafayel slowly and carefully remove himself from under you.

He made sure to tuck you in properly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

And then his expression hardened into something sharp and dangerous as he picked up his phone again.

No one would hurt you and walk away.

He’d make sure of that.

By morning, that man would regret ever laying a hand on you.

Sylus

Sylus was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while the meeting was dragging on.

The men sitting across from him kept talking and talking about things he could easily fix in his sleep.

His mind was elsewhere, with you.

He couldn’t wait until this was done and he could get home, grab a bottle of something decent and have you curl up against him, just as you had planned.

Thinking about you, waiting for him, a sleepy smile grazing your lips, was the only thing keeping him from snapping at the idiots in the room.

Then his phone vibrated in his jacket’s pocket.

He knew it was you but that thought didn’t exactly excite him.

As he read your name on his phone, he straightened.

You never called him while you knew he was working, not unless something was wrong.

Sylus quickly lifted his hand, silencing the man who was mid sentence.

He stood up casually, answering the call with his usual teasing charm.

"What's up, kitten?"

The moment your broken sobs reached his ears, his expression shifted.

You were crying so hard you could barely breathe.

He didn’t care about anything else but you, didn’t care for the men hearing the desperation in his voice,

“Talk to me, love. Breathe. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It took you a few seconds, your voice shaking but you finally managed to gasp out,

“Can you please come pick me up?”

He stalked out of the room, offering no explanation.

“I’m coming.”

There was no need for Sylus to ask where you were, you had stayed late at the Hunter’s Association to finish some reports.

He was familiar with your routine.

He quickly send Mephisto to your location.

On his way, he broke more than enough traffic laws as he ripped from the N109 Zone to Linkon City.

Your broken sobs kept replaying in his head and it caused him to lose focus multiple times, you were the only thought running through his mind.

When he finally screeched into a street near the Association, his gaze locked onto you immediately.

You were sitting on the sidewalk, looking so small.

Mephisto was protectively perched near you.

Luke and Kieran look out from the car, feeling bad seeing you like this.

Sylus moved without thinking.

He dropped to his knees right in front of you, the expression he was wearing was heartbreakingly soft.

One of his hands landed on your leg.

You looked up at him with tired and red rimmed eyes, a weak smile tugging at your lips,

“Hi.”

You whispered hoarsely, voice weak.

His chest tightened as he looked at you.

The desire to tear the city apart burning inside of him.

He controlled himself,

“Ready to go home, kitten?”

You nodded, lips trembling.

Sylus helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you as if you were made of glass.

Once you were standing again, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand and started sobbing again.

Sylus was hurting with you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering calming things, trying anything to ease your pain.

You clung onto him as he lead you to the car.

Once you were both settled in, Luke took off, driving back to the N109 Zone, while Kieran was glaring daggers out of the window.

You two were sitting in the back together and he was cradling you against his side.

His fingers brushed through your hair.

When you gained the strength to open up, you did.

While your voice was hitching here and there, you told him about the man, some guy you only knew through mutual friends, who ended up cornering you once you left the association’s building.

You told about how he kept pestering you, making disgusting comments, refusing to leave you alone.

How, when you finally turned him down firmly, he got violent.

Sylus listened to every word, not interrupting you once.

He didn’t ask for the guy’s name.

He didn’t need to.

He already had everything he needed.

For now, you were all that mattered.

Arriving at the base, Sylus carried you inside like you weighed nothing.

He set you down on his bed, covering you with the soft blanket.

He cleaned your wounds with a patience he wasn’t known for.

His touch never hurt.

Every single one of his movements was an unspoken promise,

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

He stayed close all night.

Held you until you felt better.

Ran his fingers through your hair until morning came and you fell asleep, curled up in his arms.

And once he was sure, absolutely sure, you were truly asleep, did he slowly pull away.

He softly kissed you on the lips.

Then, he straightened.

Rolling his shoulders, his eyes turned dark.

He wasn't going to leave this to his men.

No, Sylus was going to personally make sure that bastard understood exactly what it meant to touch what belonged to him.

By morning, the world would be free of one more pest.

And Sylus would be back before you had even woken up.

Caleb

Night was just starting to roll around when Caleb finally returned home.

His uniform felt suffocating after such a long day.

He was halfway through unbuttoning his coat, when his phone buzzed.

Your name lit up his screen.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He figured you and your friends must've wrapped up earlier than expected, and you needed him to come pick you up.

He picked up immediately.

But the moment he heard your voice, that smile crumbled.

You were crying, not the usual soft sniffles from watching a sad movie or dropping your snack.

This was gut wrenching, helpless sobbing.

Caleb stilled, his body tensed, something deep inside of him breaking at the sound of your pain.

“Hey, hey,”

He quickly said, voice gentle.

“What wrongs, pips? I’m here.”

You were stumbling over your words, hiccuping,

“Do you think you could pick me up now?”

You sounded so small, so weak.

“Of course.”

He answered without hesitation,

“Stay where you are and keep your location on.”

Not that he needed it.

He already knew where you were.

Near the old library.

He always kept tabs, not because he didn’t trust you, but because he needed to make sure you were safe in a world that wasn’t always.

Caleb wasted not time, not even bothering to change out of his uniform.

The streets were relatively empty but even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Caleb wanted to get to you as quickly as he possibly could, that meant ignoring speed limits and red lights.

When he spotted you, his heart broke.

You were sitting on a pair of steps, rubbing your eyes sore.

You looked up when you heard the screech of his tires and the slam of his car door.

Caleb was running towards you.

He stopped a few steps away.

His purple eyes roamed over you quickly, taking in the bruises that were forming and how disheveled you looked, the way you were shrinking in on yourself.

His eyes darkened, hands balled into fists at his sides and his muscles were flexing under his uniform.

“Who did this?”

Voice rough, barely a restrained growl.

His whole body was screaming for violence, to hurt someone back, inflict what they had done to you.

You shook your head, tears spilling again.

Caleb instantly softened.

The fury on his face was replaced by a loving look.

"Come here."

He murmured, stepping forward.

His arms pulled you into an embrace, so carefully that it made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

And to him, you were.

You leaned into him, your sobs were muffled and he was whispering sweet nothings against the crown of your head.

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice trembling.

You started explaining,

how your two friends had to leave early and how the guy one of them had brought along, had stayed behind.

At first, it wasn’t too weird.

A few uncomfortable jokes, some flirting you politely brushed off.

But it didn’t stop, even when you mentioned Caleb, your boyfriend.

He just became more aggressive, more persistent.

Until you tried to leave, that’s when he became physical.

Caleb didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

You knew what he felt through his arms tightening around you.

Showing his anger, how he was hurt for you, telling that no one would touch what’s his.

The kiss he pressed to your forehead was grounding.

He lead you into the car, buckling you in himself.

Once you two were back in his apartment, he ran you a warm bath.

He was staying close, helping you clean up if you as much as asked.

He fetched you some soft towels, your favourite hoodie of his, anything that he knew would comfort you.

He was sitting right outside of the bathroom door while you soaked, close for you to call his name so he could be there in an instant.

Later, as you were curled up in his bed, wearing his hoodie, lying under a mountain of blankets, Caleb sat beside you.

He was reassuring you, squeezing your hand that was holding onto his.

He kissed your knuckles, he lingered, murmured promises against your skin.

He whispered,

“I won't let anyone touch you ever again."

You eventually drifted off to sleep, coaxing you to.

And once he was sure, Caleb stood from the bed quietly, moving like a ghost.

He headed straight for his office.

He overlooked his screens, fingers flying over the controls, looking into camera footage, facial recognition, movement trackers.

It didn’t take long to find that bastard.

Caleb’s eyes were cold as he tapped a finger against his cheek, calculating.

Joining the fleet and ever had taught him how to fight in ways that left no witnesses, no survivors, no traces.

The man who hurt you would find his life dismantled piece by piece.

His reputation, his finances, his freedom, all gone in the blink of an eye.

No one could protect him from Caleb’s wrath now.

And when Caleb finally returned to bed, slipping under the covers and pulling you close to him, he softened once again.

He held you, trying to make you feel his silent promise.

The promise that no one would ever hurt you again.

Not while Caleb was still breathing.

584 notes · View notes

yukioos · 2 days ago

Note

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

893 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 2 days ago

Text

lace | (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader ( gendered language + perfomancne of femininity (hair, makeup and nails)), established relationship, reader is not explictly mc, lingerie, loverboy sylus, unprotected sex, praise kink, squirting, sex toys (a butt plug), a very affectionate kind of objectification, creampies, riding (sylus is doing the work tho), 18+

♡ wc; 3.2k (what da hell)

♡ a/n ; this was supposed to be a birthday fic but its mad late. if you're wondering what readers outfit looks like imagine this but its a darker red and she's wearing a little bow choker and her stockings have bows. ok

be nice abt my sylus characterization writing him is so nervewracking lmao

♡ synopsis ; sylus figured you would give yourself to him as a gift, but finds himself pleasantly surprised by how seriously you take that promise.

Arousal blooms in his chest, petals pulled open by your neatly manicured fingers, gently nudged open.

He'd been expecting the gift. He just didn't think it'd shake him so easily. Not that he isn't always charmed by you, but it's been a long enough time that he can handle you. Mostly.

His desire for you is something he can manage without feeling taken off guard.

It's rare he feels that way. Some of his confidence is feigned, but most of it is sincere. Sylus faithfully believes in both his ability to withstand whatever you decide to throw at him, and your ability to surprise him.

All things accounted for - truthfully, he had been suspecting you'd do something like this. Birthdays are important to you, and you like having a reason to dress-up anyhow.

So he was prepared for it, one way or another. He thought you'd do something like this, seen the money come out of his account a few weeks prior. He was excited then - mostly to tease you.

A fair exchange for how he's wrapped around your finger. He'd have made you done a little spin, tiled his head and quirked his lips as he asked if it was all for him. Smile at you lovingly while you glared at him irritated and bashful.

He was excited more-or-less. Now he's... well, maybe he can still call it that. Not nervous, not quite elated - some in between. Nerves suspended in mid-air, the kind of thrill he gets only now and again.

It's rare for anything to make his heart beat this loudly. It's not the first time you've accomplished it, but it never fails in it's novelty.

Just seeing you in your attire is enough to knock all of he air out of his lungs.

The air around you feels different as you come through the threshold of the bedroom door. Wearing a warm, familiar and playful expression - while you're nothing but provocative from the neck down.

You're dolled up from head-to-toe. Hair, make-up, nails.

A full fit of lingerie.

Everything is in a matching shade of maroon. A lace bow is secure around your neck in the same color.

You look up at Sylus with mirth in your eyes. A satisfaction even as you wait in earnest for his approval. You do a little spin, your robe swishing around you. And then you beam at him, all smiles.

"Don't I look nice?"

He almost scoffs reflexively. "You look like something out of a painting,"

Your heels click on the tile floors as you venture to him closer and closer. Sylus watches on silently until you stop in front of him.

"It's your birthday. We can get straight to business, if you like."

Sylus stares at you, slumped against the leather couch. It creaks under his weight.

"It'd be a shame to rip through such precious wrapping," Sylus murmurs, breath-taken. "Let me see you,"

You smile a little brighter. Pleased that he's interested, as if there was a way he wouldn't be. Your heels click when you take a step back, undoing the loose belt of your floor-length robe and let it fall open.

Sylus feels himself draw in a sharp breath as you show yourself off. The smooth curves of your body are all wrapped tightly in a sheer panels of lace and tulle. A bodysuit hugs your figure, balconette bra making everything sit pretty - thick ribbon straps tied at your shoulders. Your thighs are plush underneath garter straps, keeping up a pair of stockings in the same color. Sylus lets his eyes drift, lets them catch where the lace circles tightest around your thighs before they go lower.

At your feet are a nice pair of heels. A few inches high with something fluffy attached - a cute detail to go with your robe. You've got loose tulle gloves that for some reason knock him silent.

Sylus lets you model it for a while. Leans back into his seat and feels his cock strain tight against his pants at the sight of you. All the effort you put in him for makes him dizzy.

You let your robe drop finally, before turning on your heel.

He puts a hand over his mouth when he sees the back. Tries to be subtle. Feels a little thankful that you don't see him falter over it. You're so gorgeous he really doesn't know what to do.

Unsurprisingly he quite likes the view. It's not entirely revealing - but it's more ribbon then cloth. The small of your back hosts a little ribbon corset that stops just half-way - leaving most of your back exposed. Your ass is visible accentuated with more thin lines of red fabric.

You're wearing backseam leggings. For a reason he can't quite put into words, they're what seems to catch his attention most. From the back of your knee - a single seam all the way to the bottom of your foot. A long red-line, with a ribbon bow at the back of your ankle.

It's such a small detail, really. Maybe that's why Sylus finds himself so utterly enamored by it. It's the attention to such little things that he feels so aroused by.

You look over your shoulder, pleased by his silence. A coy, coquettish smile and mischievous air. A sweet scent surrounds you, freshly bathed - something like vanilla and spice.

Is this what being under a spell feels like? Sylus thinks it's the first time he's ever been so entranced.

"You're awfully quiet," You say, warm. A hand on your hip as you turn again, walking towards him. "Not a fan of the look?"

He laughs under his breath. "More like I'm speechless. I'm afraid there isn't a word good enough for you,"

"Are you flattering me?"

"Not at all. Just telling you how I see it," Sylus replies.

You sit yourself down in his lap again like you own it. "You like what you see?"

"Very much so,"

You smile at him, preening under the attention. You're seducing him successfully - but not for the reasons you might assume. You trail a finger down his jaw - head tilted with shimmering eyes. "It's your birthday, big guy. You can have whatever you want,"

"Are you sure that's a smart offer to make? I'm feeling a little greedy this evening, it seems."

Your laugh is warm, a bubbly sound like giggling that makes Sylus smile.

"Isn't it fine? It's your birthday after all," You lean in slightly, your voice closer to his ear. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, manicured nails slightly sinking into his skin. "Plus, I made preparations you know,"

He looks at you with his brows quirked but you just smile at him. You find his hand and hold it, bringing it between your thighs. Sylus' eyes widen as you pull away at the fabric covering your pussy.

With your hand over his, you guide his hand - his fingers where you want them. You use your finger to push his, middle finger pressing past your folds. A noise of effort escapes your lips as Sylus watches you in awe. His digit slipping into you easily, much easier then he can on a normal day. Almost like you—

"Stretched myself out in the shower," You hum, pleased. There's a sound in your voice like you know this is going to ruin him. It's working. His other hand finds your ass, holds it tight - trying to anchor himself as his fingers sit in the wet warmth of you. It's his own movement now. He tests three and each slide in without resistance and Sylus feels his chest get tight with arousal. Fuck. "Took a while. Had to use a few toys to get it—ngh, stretched completely. You know, for both holes,"

"You—kitten," His voice is thick with lust as he curls his fingers in. Feels you stretch. Feels the plug in the other side of you that makes his breath hitch. "That's not fair,"

"What are you saying? I did it for you, silly. Consider it your last present for today. Indulge a little. You always take good care of me, Sy." You're being sweet to him while you're riding his fingers and Sylus wonders when you learned to be like this and if he was always so weak. He's usually composed, even when you're fighting him tooth and nail to not be.

Maybe it's the fact you're not trying to work him up or break him that's doing it for him. You're being coy and cloying, but sincere in giving him a gift.

He feels strangely lightheaded at the thought of you gifting your body to him. Really gifting it to him. Not as a playful bit between you.

Sincere enough to stretch yourself all the way open in the shower for him, to dress up and dry your hair. To pick out a pretty outfit and wrap yourself in a red bow.

All for him.

"Sweetheart," Sylus groans. Deep from his chest, suddenly on edge. You laugh at him lightly and Sylus feels you tighten around his fingers. He puts his head on your shoulders and closes his eyes.

You're breathing with effort as you speak. "Let me finish, jeez. You always take good care of me when we do it, yknow. And you never let me do anything, which is nice but," You pull back and your lashes flutter. Sylus can't imagine living a thousand more lives and seeing anything half as beautiful as you. "Well sometimes I want to. I love you just the same as you do me. And I swear eventually I'm gonna fit you in my mouth—your dick is just fucking enormous but whatever—I'll do it eventually, anyway, the point is -"

Sylus just laughs. It startles you a little, but he can't help himself. Doesn't know what else to do to express how fucking endearing he finds you then and there. You pause, faltering a little. A pout on pretty lips.

"Don't laugh at me,"

"At you? I could never sweetheart. I'm just," He takes a breath. "Mm, what's the word? Happy, perhaps"

"Perhaps? Sylus you're hurting my feelings,"

"Am I?"

"Well...no, but. Don't say perhaps. I can't read your mind and you're making me kinda nervous,"

How silly for you to be nervous when just looking at you makes him like this. He hums, bemused. "Nervous?"

You give him a look. "Well I was expecting you to be more... I dunno... all 'oh, you dressed up for me sweetheart, how cute' like always but,"

He scoffs lightly. "Is that how I sound to you,"

You ignore him. "But you're being all... nice and stuff."

He laughs again and you flush. "Nice and stuff. Am I not usually nice?"

"You're..! Well you are but I dunno. I can't tell what you're thinking today. I feel a little silly,"

"Should I tell you then? What I'm thinking?" Sylus quips. You nod, almost hopeful.

"I'm thinking I've somehow gotten very lucky," Sylus presses a kiss to your cheek. Another at the corner of your mouth "And that, I must've done something monumental in my past life to have you all to myself,"

Sylus puts his lips where your pulse is, feels your heartbeat underneath thin skin. You pause before speaking. "And?"

He smiles a little. "And it'd be a great shame to waste any more time without enjoying my gift to the fullest. I'm saying I like it. Tell me how I should prove it to you?"

You giggle. It's a sweet sound, a breath of relief as you bury your face into his shoulder. Sylus lets his hands roam, sitting at the small of your back as you settle your weight into his lap. Sylus feels spurred to continue. "How could I tease you when you're trying so hard to please me? Do you think I'm so unaffected?"

"It's not my fault I have a hard time believing the big bad boss of Onychinus could get all worked up over little ol' me,"

Sylus hums. His fingers sink into the plush of your hips as he pulls you down - your clothed pussy flush to the outline of his clothed cock. "What a silly thing to think,"

"Oh fuck," You moan soft into his ear, both arms around his shoulders. Sylus likes the way you feel when you cling to him. How you breathe how your hips stutter. "Ngh, you're so hard,"

"All for you. I'm all yours,"

Sylus smiles a little as you grind yourself against him subconsciously. A careless cant of your hips as your body sinks against his chest. Sylus often teases about you being a kitten, but it's because of moments like this. Needy and unthinking like a cat in heat, making it easy on him to pin you down. He can feel you get off on him, feel how your movements stutter when you catch on your clit - shoulders trembling from pleasure.

Sylus presses his nose to your shoulder and lets you get off to your hearts content. Holds your body as tight as his hands can grip when you do.

"Sylus," Your words are long and drawn out.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Come on," You beg, not all the way there. "Use me already,"

He breathes in sharp, laughing. You really don't play fair.

He doesn't say anything of your request. "You don't have to wait for me. You can take what you want,"

A noise of complaint gets mumbled into his chest as you pull away from him. You lean back where you sit in his lap - face flushed, gloved hands quickly undoing the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his slacks. Sylus watches you through lidded eyes. Hooking your pointer into his boxers, you tug down just far enough to let his cock spring free and pull it out. It stands tall. A hard, heavy weight leaning against his dress shirt. Pre-cum dribbles against the material as it sways back.

The rough material of your tulle gloves makes Sylus hiss. You wrap your fist around the shaft of his cock but it doesn't fit - your fingers not touching.

You lean down as best you can and spit hard onto the head of his cock. Sylus groans as he feels it run down his length. Satisfied, you use your grip to stroke him until his cock is sticky and wet, making a mess of your gloves as they're stained with saliva and cum.

You push his shirt until it's bunched over his abs, feeling them up after you've prepared him.

"You're so big," You mumble. Sylus chuckles.

"Yeah?"

You nod, eyes glazed over. A thousand thoughts run through his mind at once but at the end of each last one is somewhere between adoration and lust.

Without ceremony, Sylus watches you stand on your knees on either side of his thighs and pull the material of your bodysuit away from your pussy. With your free hand, you hold onto his shaft and shimmy yourself down until the tip of Sylus' cock is right at your entrance.

You sink down onto his cock just like that - near effortless.

Sylus moans. It's never easy to get himself inside of you, but you're so soft inside. So perfectly stretched. Warm and sticky and inviting, he groans unabashedly as you sink down on his length slowly. Swallowing him up in a panting breath.

There's barely any resistance, but you're still tight from the plug you wear. You must've been fucking yourself for a long while to get like this and the image is seared into his mind. Sylus can't imagine how long it took you to get yourself like this. Your body never yields to him this easily, at least not until he's had his way with you over and over until you're so pliant you might shatter into pieces.

Sylus feels his body go slack from arousal. A feeling of electricity flickering up his spine as his cock is completely enveloped by your warmth. The head nudges against your cervix as you lose strength in your legs - bottoming out with a gasp.

Sylus growls. It's a low sound, a desperate one. His cock aches, desire welling up in his veins. He lets his head fall back, unusued to the sensation of getting everything in at once. His throat bobs as he hands find your ass. Gripping tight, he catches his breath as he feels you over him wobbling.

"Sylus," Your voice is so whiny like this. So endearingly gone. "Sylus, you're so big. Oh, it's—aah,"

His lashes flutter as he struggles to hold himself back. His dick and usual sense slowly ticking away. He opens his eyes loosely, putting a hand to your stomach before trailing it up - almost near your ribs. His voice is murmur soft. "I'm all the way in here,"

You make a choked noise, falling forward against his chest. "...Nn yeah. Mm. 's full."

He laughs but its incredibly strained. "You're really talented in getting me worked up, you know?"

"I'm not trying to,"

Sylus chuckles. "Oh I know,"

"Sylus," You whine.

He kisses your shoulder. "Yes, dove?"

"Fuck me. Please? Wanna move but I think my legs gave out,"

Sylus laughs again, warmer this time. Fonder. "How could I say no to such a sweet request?"

With you limp in his lap, it's all too easy for Sylus to hold you but your hips and fuck into you. You're almost weightless with your much you've melted into him, stuck to him with gravity.

Sylus is strong. With and without his EVOL. He thinks its a necessary thing to be given all he has to protect.

But it has its other uses.

It feels good being able to move you up and down on his cock like it's nothing. Not really moving his own hips to meet your movements, but holding you with both hands and picking up your full weight before pulling you back down again—while you claw into his shoulders for purchase. It's the first time you've ever been fucked open enough for him to do it without hurting you.

Even though he's fucking you hard enough for it to echo against his bedroom walls. The wet smack of skin to skin, the filthy sound of your pussy being carved into the shape of him, your hips slamming down on him relentlessly. Doing it without worry or concern.

There's something unusually animal about fucking you this way. No restraint, more like you're mating then making love.

It feels good to feel all of you. Feel every single inch of your perfect, pretty cunt - walls trembling on each thrust. Your short breaths and shaky moans, your nipples hardening through the salacious lace of your top and pressing against the swell of his chest.

You just feel so fucking good. You make him feel so good.

"I can't get enough of you, sweetheart," Sylus says, half-way to losing his mind inside of you but trying to keep it together. "You feel so perfect, I don't know if I'll be able to let you rest."

"Sy," Your voice is warped with pleasure, a loud needy cry for him and him only. "Wanna cum, wanna cum on your cock, Sylus please,"

"Touch yourself, sweet girl," Sylus hums. "I'll fuck you until you can't take it, so touch yourself and feel good,"

Sylus feels your shaky hand maneuver between your bodies. Your fingers twitch as you rub tiny circles into your throbbing clit, immediately clamping down his length from pleasure.

Sylus watches you as it all comes down at once. Your body weakened, numb from pleasure as you needily chase your own high. The sound of his name broken on your lips, rocking yourself to match his movements and grind into your fingers.

"I'm cumming. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'mcumming,'m—"

Sylus feels it. Your pussy squeezes, grips around the length of his cock like a vice. There's a sudden wetness, a spray of something wetting his abs and slacks. You whimper as he fucks you through the tremors. Fucked entirely stupid, even your thank yous come out slurred.

Sylus follows quickly behind, pumping his cum into you with a deep breath. He can feel it rise up, thick hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Touching a place he thinks he's only just reached for the first time.

You both pause to catch your breaths as Sylus takes a moment to toy with one of your garters. He kisses your neck, speaking into it.

"Thank you for the birthday gift. I think I'll take my time unwrapping it," Sylus hums.

You laugh tired. "Mm. Glad to know it was a success,"

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #writing tag #where small;#lads x reader #lads smut

502 notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 3 days ago

Text

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 9

paige x azzi

word count: 11.8k

A/N: This one was fun to write. I tried to include a couple of requests that a few people wanted to see but I couldn’t include everything in one chapter of course. Please let me know what you think and leave comments if you can!

—————————————————————————

Paige had never thought she'd see the day where Jasmine was sitting in her living room, legs crossed on her couch. The same couch her and Azzi had just—well, no. Paige shook the thought from her head, jaw tightening as she pulled her focus back.

Still, the fact remained. Jasmine. In her house. Sitting on that couch.

It had been two weeks since Paige returned from the road, and Jasmine had already tried twice before today to wedge herself back into Paige’s orbit.

The first time, Paige had been home alone. She hadn’t even been surprised when she opened the door and saw Jasmine standing there. It ended the way it did the first time: with raised voices, insensitive words, and Paige muttering “You’re pathetic,” before walking back inside and slamming the door shut behind her.

The second time, it was a Saturday morning. Lukas was at the counter scrolling on his iPad, Paige was on the couch stretching out her sore legs, and Azzi—barefoot in one of Paige’s oversized UConn shirts, curls in a bun—was flipping pancakes in the kitchen.

They were expecting Drew to stop by for breakfast, which was why Azzi didn’t even think to ask who was at the door when the knock came. She just opened it.

Azzi had blinked, confused at first, her free hand still holding the spatula. Paige had called out for Azzi asking who it was and when Azzi didn’t respond Paige grew confused.

Paige could still picture it when she rounded the corner—how tight Azzi’s posture was. She walked up, gave Azzi a soft kiss on the cheek and gently nudged her back to the kitchen. “I got it baby.”

Azzi hesitated but Paige gave her another soft nudge and Azzi nodded, retreating back into the kitchen without a word.

That time, the argument had been quieter. The tension still lingered between them but Paige had kept her voice low, mindful that Lukas was inside and could probably hear every word if she let herself yell.

Jasmine hadn’t gotten what she wanted. Again.

After that day Azzi sat Paige down. No tension, no arguing—just calmly. Just the two of them on the couch as Azzi told Paige she needed to talk to Jasmine. No arguing, no yelling, just talk.

And now here they were.

Jasmine in her living room. In her home. In the middle of the space Paige had rebuilt with care, with time—now with Azzi.

Paige stood in the archway for a second longer before walking in and sitting across from her, lowering herself slowly into the armchair.

Paige didn’t want Jasmine in her home.

Every part of her tensed at the idea, her space was sacred. Shared only with people she trusted, people she loved. Not the woman who had shown up unannounced—again and again—trying to dig through closed chapters like they were still being written.

But Paige also wasn’t about to be seen with her in public. She knew how the media worked. How one photo, one poorly timed encounter, could spark a dozen headlines and speculation.

So here they were.

Paige cut straight to the point. “Can you just be honest about why you’re here so we can get this over with?”

Jasmine gave that same look she always did—part soft, part rehearsed—as she leaned back, one arm stretched along the back cushion of the couch. “I miss you, Paige.”

Paige let out a sound, something between a scoff and a laugh. “This ain’t gonna be productive if you start off with lying Jasmine.”

Jasmine’s expression didn’t change. She just crossed her legs the other way and met Paige’s eyes. “You say that like it’s impossible for me to miss you. I was in love with you at one point, Paige. It’s not the craziest thing in the world for me to say.”

Paige shook her head slowly, a dry bitterness in her voice. “You weren’t in love with me.”

Jasmine straightened a little, her tone sharpening. “We were literally engaged, Paige. Before everything, before I—” Jasmine paused for a second not wanting to finish the sentence. “We had something good.”

Paige let the silence hang for a moment, her eyes settling on the corner of the room before returning to Jasmine. She spoke with the certainty of someone who had spent nights unraveling the truth from memory.

“We got engaged because you agreed to have my child and my mom said it made no sense for me to have a kid with someone I didn’t see myself marrying,” she said simply. “We were toxic from the jump, it was just fun because we were in college.”

Jasmine didn’t have an answer for this right away.

Paige let the silence settle again, but this time it wasn’t bitter—it was contemplative. Tired. Her arms folded across her chest, her gaze resting somewhere past Jasmine’s shoulder as she asked, quietly, “You remember how we met?”

Jasmine smiled nostalgically like the memory held something tender. “Yeah,” she said, almost like she was reliving it. “Of course I do.”

And that’s exactly how Paige knew Jasmine hadn’t grown. Still holding on to a story that never deserved to be romanticized.

Summer 2022

The night was hazy and hot, typical of Storrs in late July. Ted’s was packed—sweaty bodies moving between the tent and bar, drinks spilling, athletes from every sport clinging to the high of having nothing to do but party at this time of year. It was the kind of summer lull where routine blurred and everyone was just looking for a little excitement.

Paige was drunk, but coherent. The kind of buzz she could still control. She was slouched in a booth with Nika, Aubrey, and Ice—one of the incoming freshmen who already had a bit of a mouth on her.

Paige was half-listening to whatever nonsense was being said, her gaze drifting around the bar, distracted.

“Yo, twin,” Nika nudged her with an elbow, “you good?”

Paige blinked and looked up. “Yeah. Just bored as hell, man.”

Nika laughed. “Go get laid or something, damn.”

Paige rolled her eyes but still grinned. “That’s all I been doing since the season ended.”

“Aye,” Aubrey shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Plus she been eyein’ you all night,” Ice chimed in, nodding her head toward the corner of the bar.

Paige followed the movement, her buzz slow and warm in her veins, every beat of the music vibrating in her chest. That’s when she saw who Ice was talking about.

A girl sitting across the bar, leaned back in her stool with a kind of lazy confidence that only came when someone knew they were attractive. 5’8", maybe 5’9", with small goddess braids that cascaded down her back, brushing against the curve of her ass. Her skin was a golden tan that glowed under the bar lights, and her lips were full, glossed, just slightly parted—wrapped around the small straw in her glass. Her nails tapped against the glass with a soft rhythm, and Paige could see the faint shimmer of a chrome finish.

She had on a cropped, long-sleeve shirt that showed off just enough: the subtle cut of her stomach muscles, a sliver of underboob every time she moved. Her high-waisted pants hugged her just right. And her eyes—hazel, but nearly hidden behind her long natural lashes were locked on Paige like they’d been waiting for her.

Paige’s diamond earrings caught the light as she tilted her head, lips curling into a smirk. The small cross hanging from her chain swayed as she downed the rest of her drink in one go, the burn grounding her in the moment.

“Imma see y’all later,” she mumbled to the table, already rising to her feet before they could get a word in.

She walked straight to the girl, cutting through the crowd easily. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of her—close enough to smell her perfume, something warm with a hint of amber.

“I heard you been looking at me all night,” Paige said, her voice low, leaning in just enough to make it intimate.

The girl looked up through her lashes, lips tugging into a smirk. “I have.”

Paige licked her lips, letting her eyes drag over her slowly. “You always stare at people like that? Or am I special?”

The girl tilted her head slightly, taking her time with the answer. “Only when they’re fine like you.”

Paige grinned. “Mm. So I’m fine now?”

The girl’s smile deepened as she played with the straw in her glass, taking a long sip before setting it back down. Her voice was smooth as she said, “Something gives me the impression you already know that.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, tongue brushing across her bottom lip again. “Maybe. But it hit different when somebody like you point it out.”

The girl raised her eyebrow, her hazel eyes flickering with interest. “Someone like me?”

“Bad as hell,” Paige said, eyes dragging down and back up again with no shame. She mumbled something low under her breath before saying, “Yeah. I’d say you fit the bill.”

The girl smiled. “You flirt like you’ve been practicing. Like you got a lot of experience.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Paige quipped. “But you talking like you’ve got me figured out already.”

“Maybe I do.”

Paige leaned in a little closer, the scent of tequila and her cologne dancing between them. “That so? What’d you figure out?”

“That you’re not over here for small talk.”

Paige’s grin spread across her face, heat blooming behind her blue eyes. “You’re right.”

She let her hand settle on the edge of the girl’s stool, fingers brushing the denim of her ripped jeans. “I’mma be honest with you though—I’m just tryna see what you like tonight. If that’s cool with you.”

The girl didn’t flinch, her eyes lighting up with something hungry. “That’s all you’re tryna do?”

Paige cocked her head slightly, like she was thinking. “You tryna make it more than that?”

“I’m tryna make it loud,” the girl said as she reached for her drink again. She sipped slowly, letting the silence stretch just enough before adding, “That okay with you?”

Paige laughed at that, her fingers trailing just a little higher on the girl’s thigh. “Loud, huh?” she echoed, leaning in so close her breath danced across the girl’s cheek. “You tryna tell me you moan pretty or somethin’?”

The girl turned her head, lips brushing dangerously close to Paige’s. “I’m tryna say if we end up in my car we might wanna keep the windows up.”

Paige grinned as she leaned back just slightly, looking the girl over again—cropped tee riding up just enough, those lips still curved like they knew something she didn’t, hazel eyes laced with intention.

“Mmm,” Paige hummed, dragging her gaze slow. “So it’s like that?”

The girl nodded. “It’s exactly like that.”

Paige took a beat, then licked her lips and pushed off the stool. “Say less,” she said, already walking backwards with a smirk. “Lemme see how loud I can get you.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She finished her drink and followed Paige out like she already knew she wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight.

They didn’t say a word until they reached her car. When they opened the tinted back door, Paige looked over her shoulder, eyes locked on the girl. “You sure?”

The girl stepped right up behind her, pressed close, and whispered near her ear, “You’re the one who said say less.”

Paige laughed, heart already racing. “Bet.”

And they disappeared into the car windows fogging before they’d even figured out who was in control, before they even figured out each other’s name. They’d learn that later on the drive back to Paige’s dorm to continue what they’d already started.

Present

Jasmine laughed softly, her eyes dancing with the memory. “I mean…sure, it wasn’t the best way to meet,” she said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, “but it was us.”

Paige stared at her, unmoved. The contrast between them was keen. The smile on Jasmine’s face. The confusion Paige carried looking at her.

It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t romantic.

“We met because I was bored and you looked good enough,” Paige said, not meant to be cruel—just honest.

Jasmine’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Okay,” she said, tilting her head, “But it turned into something after that.”

Paige studied her. “You don’t think we were toxic?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No. Not like that. I’ve seen worse.”

Then Paige was reminding Jasmine about another time.

Spring 2023

Campus was alive again. April in Storrs meant warmer days, later nights, and students lingering outside every chance they got now that it wasn’t freezing. The season was over, and Paige hadn’t played a single game. Her body had been healing, but her mind was restless. She was tired of rehab, tired of being asked how she was doing, tired of not being seen the way she used to be.

So she was at Ted’s.

Drunk.

The music was loud, the bar barely lit and packed, and Paige was leaning against a wall when a random girl sauntered up.

“I feel like you've been watching me,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her glossed lips.

Paige blinked slowly, knowing full well she hadn’t been watching anyone but played into it for the hell of it. “Maybe. You complaining?”

“Not yet,” the girl said, stepping in close—close enough that Paige couldn’t process anything else around her. “But I’m just curious if you're going to keep looking or actually do something for me?”

Paige let out a quiet laugh, gaze dropping briefly to the girl's lips. “I got a bum knee, not a bum mouth.”

That earned her a soft laugh, and then the girl was lightly tugging the front of Paige’s hoodie, pulling her in. Their mouths met in a messy kiss. Paige’s hand slid to the girl's waist, fingers brushing the bare skin of her back as she deepened the kiss.

The girl pulled back just enough to whisper, against Paige’s jaw, “You kiss like you’re trying to prove something.”

Paige smirked. “Promise you I don’t got nothing to prove. Just ask around.”

Their mouths met again, more urgent this time, the girl’s hand sliding under the hem of Paige’s hoodie, fingertips tracing warm lines against her stomach. Paige groaned softly, tugging her even closer.

“You always this reckless with strangers?” the girl whispered against her lips.

Paige hummed, lips brushing hers.

And then—Acrylics twisted into her hoodie, jerking her back as the girl stumbled slightly, blinking in confusion. Paige’s body swayed, eyes still adjusting to the light as she turned around.

“The fuck?” she said, irritation flaring in her chest as she turned to see Jasmine standing there clearly pissed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jasmine hissed, glaring at the random girl who was now backing away from the situation.

Paige scoffed, adjusting her hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“No—don’t flip this shit on me right now.”

“I’m not flipping shit. You’re not my girlfriend,” Paige snapped. “You be fucking around with other people too. So what’s the issue?”

Jasmine blinked, caught off guard. “Are you seriously sitting in my face comparing what I do to this?” she gestured toward the direction of the girl Paige had just been all over.

“I’m comparing exactly that,” Paige said back. “You don’t answer your phone, you ghost for days, then pop up pissy when I’m doing me.”

“It’s not the same,” Jasmine said, voice shaking just a little. “You text me every time you’re drunk. You call me when you’re lonely. You crawl back in my bed like I’m the only one you want—”

Paige cut her off. “And you let me.”

Jasmine flinched. Paige didn’t stop.

“You talk like I’m the problem, but you’ve always been down for it. Every time. You do the same shit half the time so why you acting like this now?”

“I did that because I love you,” Jasmine snapped, her voice slightly raised now. “Even if you don’t love me back the same.”

Paige stared at her for a long moment, the alcohol making her slower to filter her thoughts.

“You don’t love me,” she said, quieter. “You’re obsessed with not being alone and you like my money.”

Jasmine’s face fell. She staggered a step back, the words slicing through something soft inside her chest. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

And then she turned.

Started walking away.

Paige blinked, sobering just a little, like the weight of her own voice finally registered.

“Aye—” she reached out, grabbing Jasmine’s arm gently, pulling her back. “I’m sorry, ma. I ain’t mean that. I’m sorry I swear.”

Jasmine didn’t look at her. Her jaw was tight, eyes still fighting wetness. “You don’t get to say shit like that and then apologize like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Paige said quickly, her hand sliding down to Jasmine’s wrist. “You know it’s not. I was mad. I’m drunk. I just—”

“What?” Jasmine said, bitter now. “You want me to forget it? Act like you didn’t just call me pathetic?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t fucking have to.”

There was a long pause.

Paige exhaled, frustration melting into guilt as her eyes dropped to the ground. When she looked back up at Jasmine, her voice was soft.

"I'm sorry, Jas. What I gotta do to make it up to you, baby?”

Jasmine shook her head slowly, like her heart hadn’t caught up with the moment. “You think saying sorry fixes it?” she asked, not looking at Paige. “You think I’m just supposed to un-hear that shit?”

“I don’t,” Paige said quickly, her voice barely loud enough to hear. “I don’t think that. I just...I fucked up. I know I did.”

Jasmine turned her face toward her, eyes rimmed red. “You always say that after the damage is already done.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “And I hate that I keep doing it. I hate that I hurt you. I’m not trying to I’m just—I’m so messed up all the time.”

There was a silence between them. Jasmine looked at her for a long second, studying her like she was trying to decide what Paige even was to her anymore. A regret? A habit? A maybe? Trying to figure out if she was ultimately worth the trouble. There were other athletes in the world, other people she could attach herself to.

Then she sighed and took a step forward.

Her hand lifted slowly, fingers threading through Paige’s hair, long nails grazing her scalp. “What’s going on with you?” she asked, quieter now.

Paige’s eyes closed, just for a moment, like the touch cracked something open in her.

“My team just lost in the Sweet 16 Jas. Because I have a bum knee and couldn’t step on the floor once this season,” she said.

Jasmine didn’t have any words of encouragement so she stayed silent. Running her hands through Paige’s long hair.

“I feel useless,” Paige added. “Like I’m not even the same person anymore. Basketball was the one thing I could count on, and now it’s like...slipping.”

Jasmine’s expression shifted—still guarded, but gentler. “You should’ve told me.”

“I don’t know how to talk about shit like this,” Paige admitted looking down.

Jasmine hesitated. She didn’t know how to deal with this kind of heavy—these kinds of emotions. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. So instead, she said, “I can help.”

Paige looked up at her, those blue eyes clear and fragile. Jasmine's gaze locked with hers.

“First,” Jasmine said, “you’re going to tell me you’ll stop fucking around with other girls. I want to know I’m the only one that can have you.”

A beat passed.

Then Paige smiled, it was soft and crooked, that kind of smile that always made Jasmine’s anger crumble. The kind that reminded her just how sweet this girl was in a world that wasn’t going to be sweet to her.

“I can do that,” Paige said.

Jasmine’s eyebrows rose, just slightly. “You promise?”

Paige nodded.

“Now,” Jasmine murmured, stepping in closer, “you’re going take me home. And you’re going to do whatever the hell you want with me. However you want. For however long you want and I’ll take all of it.”

And just like that — Jasmine leaned in, their mouths finding each other like nothing had happened.

The kiss was deep. Familiar-ish. Like something they both wanted to believe still fit.

But then Jasmine pulled back, her nose scrunching as she whispered, “You taste like another bitch.”

Paige barely flinched. She just whispered against Jasmine’s lips, “Lemme take you home then…so I can taste like you instead.”

And Jasmine let her.

But Paige would think about what she said later — not the sweet words, but the harsh ones. The truth she hadn’t meant to spit out loud. Because deep down, she knew she meant them. Even if neither of them would admit it.

Present

Paige sat back, her voice level as she looked across the living room at Jasmine—older now, but still wearing that same look she always did when she wanted to pretend something was more romantic than it was. Like if she smiled soft enough, maybe the ugly parts wouldn’t matter.

“What I said that night was true,” Paige said. “You didn’t love me.”

For a second, Jasmine didn’t say anything. Her eyes dropped, then lifted again. They were defiant, like she wanted to deny it, rewrite the memories. But instead she said, “You didn’t love me either, Paige.”

A moment passed.

Paige sighed, and this time, there was no fight left in her. Just a quiet acknowledgment. “I know.” She paused for a second before continuing, “We were just what the other needed at the time. I was young, had money, and suddenly had all this attention on me. I knew I couldn’t keep sleeping around without something getting out eventually—some story, some headline. So it made sense to have someone next to me who looked good, who would play the part.”

Her voice didn’t hold malice, just a quiet resignation.

“You made it easy, Jas. I knew you weren’t gonna do anything to mess it up. Honestly at one point you probably worked harder than I did to keep my image clean.”

Jasmine didn’t interrupt.

“But you didn’t do that for me. You did it because of what it meant for you. You never had to work. You got to enjoy what I had—just for being with me. The events, the people, the gifts…the money.”

She exhaled, her eyebrows creasing slightly as she tried to find the right words.

“I don’t know how else to explain it, but…we weren’t in love. We were just…a nice arrangement. It worked perfectly. Until it didn’t.”

Jasmine’s voice was quieter now too, but there was a small nod, like she was starting to see it too. “It was a nice arrangement.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, not bitter—just reflective. “Yeah…maybe for a little bit.”

Jasmine looked down for a moment, then back up at Paige. “You act like none of it was real. Like I didn’t care about you at all. Like we didn’t care about each other.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Jasmine for a long moment before finally speaking, her voice lower now—almost more to herself than to Jasmine.

“You remember that night it rained?” she whispered. “Like—poured. Lights all out in the dorms. Whole campus blacked out.”

Jasmine nodded slowly, eyes searching Paige’s face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Paige said. “My knee was killing me, and I was pissed at everyone and everything because I could barely shower on my own let alone step on a court. I had been ignoring the world for days. You showed up with that candle…the one that smelled like peaches or something.”

Jasmine exhaled softly, smiling despite herself. “Peach Prosecco. You hated it.”

Paige’s lips twitched. “Still lit it though. You made me tea. Sat next to me all night. Didn’t say much. Just… sat there, brushing your fingers over my wrist ‘til I fell asleep.”

The memory made her chest ache slightly—warm, familiar, soft in the way very few moments between them ever were. Jasmine had actually looked at her that night like she was worth a damn. Like she mattered outside of a box score or rehab schedule. Like someone worth staying up with in the dark.

But even as the warmth curled in her chest, Paige remembered the next morning. She’d woken up groggy, disoriented, the scent of peaches still clinging to the air. Jasmine was gone—no big deal, Paige thought at first. Probably just ran to the dining hall or back to her own room for a charger or something. But when she shifted in bed, the ache in her knee flaring up as usual, in an attempt to grab her phone her hand brushed something on the nightstand.

It was Paige’s wallet. Open. One of the bills she knew for sure she’d had—gone. Not a huge amount, maybe a twenty, but enough that she noticed.

She hadn’t thought much of it then. Had told herself she was overthinking when little things like this happened. Jasmine was just casual with boundaries, not malicious. She knew the girl was struggling a little bit. Paige had wanted to be someone Jasmine could lean on. She’d even liked it, in a backwards way—being needed.

Paige blinked, her gaze hardening just slightly as she brought herself out of the memory. “But then you disappeared. Again. Like always.”

The softness in Jasmine’s eyes faltered, her jaw tensing.

“That’s why I act like none of it was real,” Paige said. “Because the realest parts never lasted.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to respond, but Paige cut her off gently.

“I’m not saying all this to make it sound like I was miserable the whole time, or that I didn’t care about you,” she said, her voice calm but direct. “I’m not tryna hurt you, Jas. I’m just trying to be real about what it was. And it wasn’t love. Not the unconditional kind that feels weightless, not the kind I want for myself. That I want for you.”

Jasmine scoffed lightly. “That doesn’t exist Paige.”

Paige smiled faintly, almost involuntarily. She didn’t even have to think long. “It does, Jas,” she said softly. Her eyes softened, mind flickering to Azzi…to Lukas. “I promise it really does.”

And almost as if the universe heard her—maybe even agreed—her phone buzzed on the table. Azzi’s contact photo lit up the screen. Paige reached for it and she answered, smiling. “Wassup, man?”

Lukas’ voice crackled through the speaker excitedly. “How’d you know it was me, ma?”

Paige laughed, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “’Cause I know Azzi’s on a call with a client right now, big head.”

“Hm,” Lukas hummed, like that hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“How’d you figure out how to call me with her phone anyway?”

There was a pause, then Lukas proudly said, “Well Uncle Drew showed me how to find emergency numbers on the phone, and then I saw your picture and clicked it. Boom.”

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Genius. So, what’s the big emergency?”

Lukas exhaled way too dramatically. “Azzi said you told her I need to get a haircut today.”

Paige simply said. “You are getting a haircut today.”

“Whyyyy?” Lukas groaned, dragging the word out like it physically pained him.

Paige grinned. “Because we got dinner tonight.”

“With who?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Jasmine, who was watching her silently now, taking it all in. Paige hesitated, not wanting to hurt her more than she already had. So instead, she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Lukas groaned again. Paige laughed before saying, “Look, I’m a little busy right now, but I’ll see you soon, alright? I’ll bring lunch—ask Azzi what she wants after she’s done.”

She heard the raucous of him getting up on the other end.

“After she’s done, Lukas,” Paige added quickly, laughing again.

“Oh…okay. Right.”

Paige shook her head with a smile, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’ll see you soon ight. I love you.”

“I love you, ma.”

Just before she hung up, she added, “And hey—leave Azzi’s phone alone. There's too much important stuff on there for you to play with it.”

Lukas laughed loudly. “Okayyy.”

Paige ended the call and set the phone back down, her smile slowly fading as her eyes met Jasmine’s again—two people in the same room, but now clearly living very different lives.

Jasmine looked at her, voice quiet, barely traveling across the room enough for Paige to hear it. “Do you really love her?”

“I do.”

Jasmine blinked fast, trying to stop the tears welling in her eyes. Her voice cracked as she asked, “So there’s no chance of us trying again? Being a family?”

Paige’s eyes softened at the question—at the flicker of that younger Jasmine peeking through, the one who was there in the soft moments. The one who used to bullshit around with her in the gym until all hours of the night, laughed with her like they had all the time in the world. “No, Jas. I’m sorry.”

She took a breath before adding, “And I’m sorry for putting expectations on you that were never part of our…silent arrangement. You didn’t sign up for a kid. But you still showed up when I said I needed one. You still did that, carried him, for me. Despite what you may or may not have wanted at the time. And I want you to know I’ll always thank you for it. I’ll always appreciate you for bringing him into this world for me.”

Jasmine’s eyes shimmered, her lip trembling slightly as she looked down. “I think about him. About you. All the time. And I don’t know…everything else just seems so shallow now. I hate that I was so caught up in the lifestyle—so materialistic—that I messed up something that could’ve been…at least good.”

Paige smiled sadly. “We were young. We didn’t know what we were doing.”

There was silence again, but this time, it wasn’t tense. It was full of understanding for once.

Jasmine asked, “How do you know you love her?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped to her lap, fingers lightly tracing the seam of her pants. “Because I’m completely selfless when it comes to her.”

She glanced up at Jasmine, who waited in silence, needing more than that. So Paige gave her everything without fully meaning to.

“When I’m with Azzi…everything slows down. Like the world feels easier to carry. Even on the days when my body’s shot, when I’m sore and just want to sleep for a week—I still get up. I’ll drive her to work and pick her up after, just because of how much she hates driving. Doesn’t matter how tired I am.”

She laughed a little. “And when I’m not with her, I’m still thinking about her. Like, what kind of coffee will make her smile that morning, because different moods call for different coffee orders, or if she remembered to eat. I know her weird ass Cava order by heart. I know when she’s had a long day ‘cause she gets quiet, but her eyes still track me like she’s trying to pull energy from me.”

Paige exhaled, her lips twitching into a smile without her permission. “She hums when she’s folding laundry. Always slightly off-key. I swear it drives me crazy.” Her eyes softened more. “Still I love hearing it.”

She paused for a second, then kept going.

“She’s patient with me, with my emotions. Doesn’t push, doesn’t guilt me. Just…holds space, even when I don't know what I need yet. And she’s real. She calls me out when I’m slipping, if I’m not being who she needs me to be, she holds me accountable, but never makes me feel small.”

Her voice cracked slightly as she let out all the thoughts she’s been holding in. “The way she looks at me—like she sees the whole version of who I am, not just the parts I let the world see…and somehow she still chooses me everyday. Still wants to come home to me after a long day.”

Her voice is more intimate, like she wasn’t even talking to anyone anymore. Just…remembering.

“When I’m on the court, the second that buzzer goes off, I’m scanning the crowd for her and Lukas. Every damn time. Doesn't feel like a win unless they’re there. Doesn’t feel worth it if I can’t share the moment with her.”

She smiled softly, still lost in it.

“She makes me want to be better in every aspect of life. Makes me want to give her the best version of me. I want her to feel safe with me. I want her to know she’ll never have to carry anything alone—not while I’m breathing.”

Paige’s thumb stilled against the fabric of her pants, her eyes glazing over—not out of detachment, but from sinking too deep into the memory of Azzi.

“She’s so beautiful it hurts sometimes,” Paige whispered, like it slipped out. “Not just surface-level pretty. Even though, God, she is—the kind of beautiful that makes you forget your name for a second when you look at her. Her smile? It kills me every time. She has these dimples, one of them only shows up when she’s really laughing, and when she’s sleepy? Her eyes get all soft and warm, like honey damn near I don’t know.”

She let out a breath, not a laugh really, more like an exhale of awe.

“Don’t even get me started on her voice. It kind of just wraps around me. Makes me feel safe. Even when she’s teasing me—and she always is—there’s never any seriousness to it. Just softness.”

Her fingers messed with the seam again.

“But it’s what’s inside her that messes me up really. The way she’s so loyal, so good to the people she loves. She doesn’t always say a lot when you first get to know her, but when she does? It’s never empty. It’s thoughtful. Like she wants every word to mean something when you’re just meeting her. And it always means something.”

She paused again, catching her breath a little.

“She has a quiet strength. The kind that doesn’t beg for attention. She shows up for people, over and over, even when she’s tired. Even if she’s hurting. And I get to be someone she shows up for.” Her voice dipped lower, almost in disbelief the more she talked. “She shows up for me.”

Paige blinked, her eyes wet but not crying.

“And when I look at her, I see the rest of my life,” she whispered. “Not just the highlight reel—the real stuff. The long nights and the early mornings, the mundane, the messy. The stuff most people get tired of—I want all of it with her, everyday. I want to sit next to her on the porch when we’re old, watching the sun go down. I want to fight over what groceries we forgot and yell at her for putting too much food on my plate. I want to take care of her when she’s sick, and hold her when she’s scared. I want to wake up to her, every day, until I can’t wake up anymore.”

She bit her lip, realization crashing over her again in quiet waves. “I want to marry her.”

The words felt heavier saying them out loud. Like they’d always been there—she just hadn’t dared say them out loud considering how soon it was.

“I really do,” she said again, softer. “God, I want to marry her so bad.”

Paige blinked like she was snapping out of a trance, and that’s when she noticed Jasmine. Eyes glassy, cheeks damp with tears…but actually smiling.

She had a deep wistful kind of smile. Like she’d finally seen the thing she never got to see when she had Paige: unburdened by the weight of the world, fully present, in love with someone—loved by someone.

“I’m so happy for you, P.”

Paige swallowed hard, guilt flickering across her features. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But Jasmine cut her off gently, her voice calm for once. “Don’t apologize.”

And for the first time in a long time, the silence that followed between them didn’t feel heavy. It felt mutual. Like they’d finally stepped out of the fog they’d been trapped in for years. Two people sitting with a shared truth, neither better nor worse than the other—just human.

Paige leaned back slightly, her voice quiet. “What do you need?”

Jasmine hesitated for a moment, the tension in her jaw softening as another tear slipped out. “My mom is sick P.”

Paige’s expression folded with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Jas.”

Jasmine shook her head quickly, wiping at her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. “I swear I didn’t come here for money or for…whatever you think I came for.”

Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “It’s just—you know, you and my mom were all I really had. And with her being sick, I don’t know, I just started thinking about you a lot. About how it used to feel…having someone.”

She laughed again through the tears, feeling a little ridiculous now. “I missed you. And I wanted a family so bad I came back to fucking Dallas.” She took a long breath, gathering herself. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. I just feel like an idiot now.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away—because what was there to say? But she looked at Jasmine with gentleness as she said, “I can’t give you what you’re looking for, Jas.”

Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she was bracing herself for the answer she already knew was coming. But then she opened them again, her voice raw. “Can I meet him?”

The question hung in the air. Paige didn’t answer right away. She turned her gaze toward the window, her jaw tight as she swallowed down the storm of thoughts brewing inside her. Jasmine leaned forward slightly, her tone more desperate now.

“Please. I just—I feel so fucking empty. And every time I see him—even in pictures—it’s like something’s missing. Like there’s this whole piece of me that never fully formed. I heard his laugh in the kitchen when I was here last time and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

She exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t have the right to ask. I know I have no rights to him. It’s completely your decision. But I have to ask.”

Paige didn’t turn her gaze from the window, but her voice came back. “I gotta talk to Azzi.”

Jasmine furrowed her eyebrows, confused. As far as she knew, Azzi hadn’t done anything legal with Lukas—wasn’t listed on anything official.

“Why? I mean…she’s not—” she started, but the words trailed off before they could turn harsh. She caught herself.

Paige finally looked back at her. “We make decisions together,” she said gently. “I can’t give you an answer without talking to her first.”

For a moment, Jasmine looked like she might protest—her lips parted, and heat welled in her chest—but she saw the emotions swirling in Paige’s eyes. Not cold, not harsh. Just protective.

So instead, she sat back, biting her tongue, nodding once. “Okay, that’s fair,” she whispered.

The two women stand. Paige reaches for her phone on the coffee table, sliding it unlocked with her thumb. Jasmine’s eyes drift downward and she has to stop herself from outwardly reacting when she sees Paige’s homescreen: Azzi and Lukas, both of them mid-laugh, seemingly at the ice cream on Lukas’ nose. Sun casting a glow across their faces. It punches something hollow in her chest, but she says nothing.

Paige opens her contacts and holds the phone out toward her. “Put your number in. Not tryna talk to you through Instagram about this.”

Jasmine takes the phone with a nod, tapping quietly before turning it back toward Paige. She doesn't add a name—just the number. Paige glances down, locks it, then slides the phone into her pocket.

They walk together toward the door, and Paige reaches to open it but Jasmine lingers, like she wants to say something else.

Before she can overthink it, Paige gently reaches out, her fingers brushing Jasmine’s wrist before pulling her in. Jasmine falls into the embrace easily, like her body still knows the way. Paige wraps her arms around her, resting her cheek on the crown of Jasmine’s head, eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

Neither of them says anything. But the silence speaks.

Paige’s hand slides slowly up Jasmine’s back, fingers tracing a small pattern over the material of her shirt. Jasmine exhales against her collarbone, soft and shaky, her hands clutching the back of Paige’s sweatshirt a little tighter than she means to.

It’s not rushed. It’s not stiff. It’s the kind of hug that lingers just long enough to say all the things neither of them had the language for when they were younger.

Eventually, Paige pulls back just slightly, her hands still resting on Jasmine’s waist. Her voice is quieter now, softer as she looks down at the hazel eyed girl.

“You’re gonna be okay, Jas.”

Jasmine nods, but her eyes are glossy and Paige can see it. The way she’s holding herself together by the thinnest thread. So she lifts one hand, fingers curling gently around Jasmine’s jaw, guiding her gaze upward.

Blue eyes meet hazel for the first time in years.

Paige holds her there and says it again—barely above a whisper this time.

“I promise. You’re gonna be okay.”

There’s a pause. A breath.

Jasmine’s eyes flick to Paige’s lips and for the briefest moment, something shifts in her gaze.

Paige sees it and she immediately steps back—not coldly, just enough to put an appropriate amount of space between them. She gives a tight smile before opening the door. “Bye, Jasmine.”

“Bye, P.”

Then she quietly closes the door behind her.

…

Later that day, Paige stepped into Azzi’s office, nodding a quick thanks to Kelly as she buzzed her into the back. The familiar softness of music echoed through the hallway, and it only took a few steps before Paige caught sight of them through the glass.

Azzi stood behind Lukas, both hands carefully on his hips as she guided him toward the pull-up bar. His legs lifting with determination, chin scrunched in focus as he tried to lift himself.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “I feel like y’all are always up to something,” she teased from the doorway.

Azzi looked over her shoulder, flashing that grin Paige would recognize anywhere. Lukas immediately twisted in Azzi’s grip, spotting his mom. “Ma!” he squealed.

Before Paige could brace herself, Lukas launched out of Azzi’s hands and into her body, she barely caught him—a food bag in one hand, the other now wrapped tight around a squirming, excited Lukas. She laughed, adjusting him on her side as he wrapped his arms around her neck to hug her.

Azzi walked over, her eyes flicking over Paige—down to her hands. She laughed softly before saying, Let me help you,” her fingers brushing Paige’s as she took the bag.

Then she leaned in, close enough that her breath tickled Paige’s cheek. She gave her a quick kiss, barely more than a brush of lips, but enough to make Paige’s heart stutter a little as she grinned like an idiot.

“Hi, beautiful,” Azzi whispered after the kiss.

Paige adjusted Lukas on her hip as they followed Azzi down the hall and into her office. As soon as they were inside, Lukas jumped free, dropping to the floor sprawling across a large piece of paper already filled with drawings like he had a masterpiece to finish.

“So anyway ma,” he began rambling, “I needed to do pull ups cause I told Uncle Drew that if I get big muscles like you, then I can pick up the car and—”

Paige and Azzi both laughed as they began pulling containers from the bag and unwrapping Lukas’ food. “You’re gonna be a superhero, huh?” Paige grinned, handing Lukas a small apple juice.

“No,” he said seriously, not even glancing up from his drawing. “A trainer superhero.”

“Ah, my bad,” Paige chuckled. Once Azzi placed his food in front of him, Lukas shifted focus, as he weighed his options. Ultimately, coloring and chicken nuggets won out over conversation, and he faded into his own world.

Azzi leaned down and kissed the top of his head before giving Paige a glance. Without saying anything she nodded toward the door.

Paige followed Azzi out into one of the nearby training rooms shutting the door behind them. Azzi turned around and gently pulled Paige into her arms to connect their lips.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered against her lips, her thumb brushing Paige’s jaw.

Paige smiled into the kiss, her voice soft. “I love you, baby.”

They stayed like that for a moment—held in the quiet, in the peace of one another—before Azzi slowly pulled back, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

“You wanna tell me how it went?”

Paige let out a quiet hum as she settled onto the training table. Azzi tapped the edge lightly, a silent request that Paige had learned meant lay down for me. Paige listened, letting her head rest back as Azzi moved to the end of the table and slipped her shoes off.

Azzi started at her ankle, rolling it gently in slow circles, loosening the joints and coaxing the tension out of Paige’s muscles.

“It wasn’t bad,” Paige said.

“Hmm?” Azzi hummed, moving up to Paige’s calf, using her things to work through the tightness.

“Seeing her,” Paige clarified. “I had to explain to her how…what we had wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what we should’ve settled for. A silent arrangement, really.”

Azzi didn’t speak, just moved higher up, pressing into the muscle with just enough pressure to make Paige close her eyes and sigh.

“Talked about how I was young and had all this attention and money and pressure—and she helped me keep a clean image. She was never gonna risk messing it up, so it was easy to choose her. And she got to benefit from everything that came with me.” Paige let out a dry breath at a particular muscle.

Azzi’ made a silent note of that portion of Paiges leg before her hands found Paige’s knee, gently rotating it, still listening.

“We talked a lot about the past,” Paige continued. “Just tryna give her examples of why we didn’t work long term.”

Azzi moved up to Paige’s thigh.

“Told her I wasn’t tryna hurt her. That I wasn’t miserable the whole time. Just…that it wasn’t real. That we didn’t love each other.”

Azzi’s touch paused for a moment at that, like her body was reacting even if her mouth didn’t. Paige glanced up at her.

“She said unconditional love doesn’t exist,” Paige said. “But I told her it does.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paige smiled faintly. “Right after that, Lukas called from your phone. It was like the universe chiming in to prove my point. It was actually crazy.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, a proud smile tugging at her mouth as she kept working her way up Paige’s other leg.

“She asked if I loved you.”

“What’d you say?” Azzi teased, already knowing the answer.

“I said I did. And then I started rambling like an idiot and told her all the ways I knew it.”

Azzi smiled at this as she pushed Paige’s knee up gently, her hand behind it as she leaned in, body folding over hers until their faces were inches apart. Paige’s smirk was immediate, her free hand brushing against Azzi’s hip.

“Stop being horny and finish the story so we can eat,” Azzi mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her eyes flicked between Paige’s mouth and her eyes.

Paige grinned, leaning up just enough to steal a quick kiss before saying, “She wants to meet Lukas.”

Azzi blinked, pulling back, her hands still resting on Paige’s leg. “She does?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “I didn’t give her an answer though. Told her I needed to talk to you first.”

There was a pause before Azzi said,“You did?”Her voice is quieter than usual.

“Mhm.” Paige hummed again, relaxed beneath her touch.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek at that, clearly trying to hide the way her lips wanted to curl into a smile.

Paige squinted at her. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

Azzi tried to play innocent. “See what?”

“You biting your cheek to hide that cute lil grin.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t grinning.”

“You so were,” Paige teased, reaching up to push some of Azzi’s curls out of her face. “You love when I say shit like that. Admit it.”

Azzi leaned in close again, their foreheads nearly touching as she dropped her voice. “I love when you do a lot of things, but I’m still waiting for us to finish the conversation, superstar.”

Paige laughed, tugging her closer. “Alright, alright, just thought it was cute that you smiled when I said that.”

“Finish the story, then maybe I’ll give you something else to smile about.”

This only made Paige smirk more, now wiggling her eyebrows a few times.

Azzi rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself as she tried to shift away, but Paige’s grip on her waist tightened to hold her in place.

“So what you think?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked. “About?”

Paige laughed quietly, shaking her head. “About what I just said, angel. Jasmine. Lukas.”

Azzi quieted for a second, her fingers playing with the fabric of Paige’s pants, anchoring herself. But her eyes didn’t leave Paige’s.

“I think…” she started slowly, clearly weighing each word. “I think it’s complicated. And it can be something that gets messy quickly.”

Paige nodded, her thumb tracing soft circles over Azzi’s wrist.

“But I do trust you,” Azzi continued. “If you feel like it’s the right thing to do for him, then I’ll support it. But I think you need to be sure he’s ready, if that’s something you’re considering.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, taking her in—her patient perceptive eyes, her posture, the soft eyelash resting on her cheek. Paige reached up gently to remove it then, softer than before, “I wanna know how you’d feel about it though, Azzi. For real.”

Azzi took a slow breath, and this time her answer didn’t come easy. Her gaze dipped for half a second, before returning.

“I think Jasmine is…” She hesitated, her jaw tightening slightly. “From the small bursts I’ve seen—very immature. I don’t think she can be consistent with him, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Paige nodded as she listened.

“If we’re speaking personally?” Azzi said, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “I wouldn’t enjoy being around someone you were involved with, wouldn’t enjoy you being around here either. I’d be lying if I said I would. But I’m not insecure, and I’m an adult. So I’d be fine.”

She paused for a second before adding, “You know me. I’ll deal. I always do. I just need to know you’re thinking about the whole picture whenever you decide..”

Paige’s hand slid up to Azzi’s waist, fingers slipping under her shirt just enough to feel skin. “I am that’s why I’m talkin to you,” she whispered. “You’re my whole picture.”

Azzi’s eyes softened and that quiet smile returned. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Paige’s forehead, letting it linger. Then she pulled back just enough to whisper against her skin, “You better mean that Madison.”

Paige tilted her head up, nose brushing Azzi’s, a smirk playing at her lips. “I promise.”

Azzi’s eyes drifted to Paige’s lips before meeting her gaze again. The kiss was soft—barely more than a brush at first. Familiar. She sighed into it the moment Paige’s hand cupped her jaw, thumb grazing just under her ear.

Then Paige, never patient when it comes to being closer to Azzi, lets her tongue trace the curve of Azzi’s bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Azzi’s lips parted slightly as she moved closer, about to give in and deepen the kiss when—

“Azziiiiii!”

A small blur of energy came running through the door and directly into Azzi’s legs, nearly knocking her off balance if it wasn’t for Paige holding her up. She stumbled, arms wrapping around Lukas as he clung to her waist.

“Please tell Ma I don’t need a haircut,” Lukas whined, burying his face against her. “Please please please.”

Azzi blinked, then let out a breathless laugh, resting a hand on the back of his head, pushing some of his hair back. Paige groaned softly behind her, flopping back onto the table.

“Bro, your timing is actually horrendous,” Paige mumbled, one arm flung over her eyes.

Lukas, completely oblivious, looked up at Azzi with wide, pleading eyes. “You’ll tell her, right? That I don’t need one? You said I looked handsome!”

Azzi laughed again, crouching down to his level and smoothing a hand over his messy curls. “I did say that,” she admitted. “But your mom wants you to get a haircut.”

Lukas turned immediately, big blue eyes locking on Paige. “Why?” he asked, clearly hoping for a solid loophole.

Paige laughed at his attempt at pouting. “'Cause we’re having dinner with Azzi’s family tonight, remember?”

That perked him right up. “Jon?” he asked hopefully, eyes brightening.

Azzi couldn’t help the snort that slipped out. “Yes, Jon,” she confirmed, shaking her head as she stood back up. “Why is it always Jon with you?”

Paige grinned adding, “You know Jose gets mad that he’s not your favorite right?”

“I don’t care,” Lukas said with a shrug, already mentally committed. “Jon talks about dinosaurs with me on FaceTime.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “So that’s all it takes huh?”

Lukas nodded, as if this was just the way of the world.

“Alright then can we agree on a haircut now?” Paige chimed in.

Lukas gasped. “Can I get a design ma?”

Paige blinked. “A design?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Like stars or flames—ohhh or a dragon!”

Azzi looked like she was trying not to laugh as she nudged Paige. “C’mon, let the boy dream.”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know about allat, but...we’ll see.”

“Yesss,” Lukas yelled, pumping a fist in the air before darting off toward Azzi’s office again to do who knows what.

Azzi leaned against the table with a smile. “You’re in trouble when he starts asking for tattoos.”

Paige groaned. “Don’t even put that energy in the air.”

As the room quieted again, Paige laid back on the training table, propped up on her elbows, eyes following Azzi’s every move like she was the only thing in focus.

“I tell you how good you look today mama?” she asked, a little slower now, eyes sweeping over Azzi as she bent to grab something from the floor. “Feel like you wore that knowing I’d be in here, huh?”

Azzi turned around arching her eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but amused. “You’d think you were sixteen and not twenty-nine the way you speak sometimes.”

Paige smirked, unfazed. She swung her legs off the side of the table, motioning for Azzi to come closer. “Whatever. You love it.”

Azzi didn’t move at first—just folded her arms and tilted her head like she was daring her to keep going.

Paige reached out, catching Azzi by the hand and tugging her in. She leaned forward just enough to nuzzle her face into the crook of Azzi’s neck, her voice muffled. “You know you love it,” she whispered, her lips brushing against her skin. “Don’t act brand new.”

Azzi shivered, her hand reflexively landing on Paige’s thigh. “God, you’re annoying,” she mumbled with a smile—then pushed Paige back playfully, breaking the moment.

“I’m going to eat my food, hornball,” she teased, turning toward her office with a shake of her head.

Paige fell back onto the table dramatically, still grinning. “You can’t say stuff like that after letting me whisper in your neck!”

Azzi looked back, smiling. “I’m calling HR.”

Paige sat up. “You are HR!”

Azzi disappeared into her office, laughter trailing behind her. Paige stayed where she was for a second longer, cheesing so hard it hurt her cheeks, before sliding off the table to follow her in.

…

Later that night, Paige’s house was filled with the kind of noise that made it feel like a home rather than a house—laughter echoing from the backyard and overlapping conversations from the living room.

Azzi’s entire family had made the trip. Her mom, dad, both brothers, and even her grandparents—who were currently on the couch, swapping old stories with Paige’s mom like they’d known each other for years.

Dinner had ended a while ago and Lukas was outside “playing,” which mostly meant running around in circles yelling nonsense while Azzi’s brothers let him think he was winning.

In the kitchen, Paige and Azzi stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, hands submerged in sudsy water. Azzi handed her a rinsed glass, their fingers brushing.

“This your sneaky little plan all along?” Paige asked, glancing at her with a sideways smile. “Bringing your whole family out here to trap me into a commitment?”

Azzi snorted. “Oh, for sure. My grandma already asked if you were the one, so…”

Paige blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Azzi said, laughing softly. “She said if you weren’t, she’d have to pray for me extra tonight and knock some sense into me.”

Paige snorted. “That’s crazy,” she said, setting a plate on the drying rack. Then added, “...but also kind of sweet. M’glad she likes me.”

Azzi looked over at her, the light catching her features just right. “My entire family adores you even if my dad won’t admit it yet, so you can’t really get rid of me.”

Paige smirked at this. “You talk like you tryna marry me or somethin’. Don’t let me get the wrong idea.”

Azzi leaned in, “And what if I am? Might taste a little different with a ring on my finger.”

Paige’s jaw tightened as she shook her head. “I swear, you be sayin’ shit like that like I won’t take you upstairs right now.”

Azzi smiled innocently. “I do?”

“You do,” Paige mumbled, dipping her head to press a soft kiss to Azzi’s neck, her voice muffled against her skin. “You like when I act like this cause you get to show out.”

Azzi bit her lip but playfully elbowed her away. “We are not doing this while my grandma is twenty feet away.”

Paige leaned against the counter, still grinning. “She can pray for me too, if it helps.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, walking to put something away. “You’re an idiot.”

Paige laughed, her heart stupidly full as she turned back to the dishes, already thinking about how she’d get Azzi alone later.

Azzi was still teasing from the other side of the kitchen when they heard the sound of someone walking into the kitchen. Katie appeared in the doorway smiling.

“Sweetheart,” Katie said, addressing Paige as she folded her arms. “You’ve done more than enough in here. Go mingle a little. Talk to the family.”

Paige started to protest, hands still in the sink. “I’m good, really. It’s my place, I don’t mind cleaning up—”

But before she could finish, Tim stepped into the kitchen behind his wife, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Actually, I was hoping to grab a minute with you anyway, Paige. If you don’t mind.”

The plate in Paige’s hand slipped just a little before she caught it, and she swallowed—hard. Her expression didn’t shift much, but Azzi, standing a few feet away, noticed the slight flex in her jaw. Tim was one of the few people in Azzi’s family that was still slightly standoffish with Paige. Not that he didn’t like her, he just hadn’t had a one on one with her yet.

Azzi couldn’t help the chuckle she let out, clearly entertained by the rare sight of Paige Bueckers suddenly tense at the thought of a one-on-one with her teddy bear of a dad.

To smooth things over, Azzi dried her hands on a dishtowel, grabbing a drink from the fridge. She walked up to Paige, sliding it into her hand, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing Paige’s skin. “Just relax.”

Paige gave her a look, half-playful and half-betrayed. “You enjoying this aren’t you?”

Azzi smiled. “Absolutely.”

Tim got their attention again. “You coming, or do I gotta start my talk here in the kitchen?”

Paige smiled at Tim shaking her head. “No sir,” she said, giving Azzi a kiss on the cheek before she followed him outside.

The Dallas night air was comfortable—not too hot, not too cold. The sound of Lukas’s laughter filled the backyard, mixed with the occasional shout from Azzi’s brothers or Drew. They settled in two chairs near the edge of the backyard, far enough from the house to feel separate, private.

Tim leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed. “Azzi told me you like to get straight to the point. Like her.”

Paige nodded once, her fingers lightly tapping against the condensation on her glass. “Yes, sir. Always.”

“So let me ask you something, Paige. You’re young, one of the biggest athletes in the world, you’re rich, you travel…by all means you got it all kid.”

He turned his head slightly,talking to her directly now. “Why should I trust you with my daughter?”

The question hit harder than Paige expected for some reason. She took a breath and looked out toward the backyard before answering carefully but truthfully.

“Because I know what it feels like to be seen as an accomplishment before a person,” she said simply. “To be loved for what you do instead of who you are. And I know she feels like that sometimes. Sometimes she feels like without her clinic she doesn’t have much to offer but that couldn’t be further from the truth. And I wake up every day trying to make sure she doesn’t feel like I feel and I go to bed evernight telling her how much light she brings into the world.”

Tim stayed quiet, listening.

“She’s brilliant. She’s steady. She grounds me in ways no one else can,” Paige laughed for a second before saying, “And if you can believe it this is the second time today I’ve gone on about how amazing your daughter is.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts so she didn’t ramble, “So I guess what I’m trying to say is I just wanna be there for her every day. And if I can make her feel even a fraction of what she makes me feel I know I can make her the happiest woman in the world.”

Tim didn’t speak right away. He just watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.

“You love her?” he asked simply.

Paige met his eyes without hesitation. “Yes. I do.”

Tim looked away for a moment, toward the house, his eyes settling on the garage. “Two cars tucked in there. Big house. Little bit of a flashy life, Paige.”

Paige followed his gaze.

“I’m not judging,” he continued, still calm but direct. “But I gotta ask—are you managing it? All of this? Because I know Azzi’s got more than enough money to stop working today and live comfortably the rest of her life. She didn’t choose you for that. But if she’s building a life with someone, I want to make sure she’s joining something equal. Someone just as smart, not an athlete who's going to run out of money the moment they stop dribbling the ball.”

Paige nodded, no hint of offense in her face—only understanding. “That’s fair,” she said, taking another sip of her drink before setting it down. “The cars, the house—it might look like I spend crazy, but I don’t.”

She shifted in her seat slightly, spreading her legs a little to become more comfortable. “I have endorsement money I don’t even touch, equity in Unrivaled that I don’t even think about. After the CBA I make more than enough to just live off my salary and honestly I don’t even use my full salary. Lukas has a trust that’s already growing interest, and I keep that locked away too. I’ve got a financial advisor, investments and shares, savings plans…” She pauses for a second before saying, “I guess what I’m trying to say is I know how to handle my business. How to manage money.”

She tilted her head back toward the house. “The big ass house? That’s for stuff like this. Dinners. Holidays. My kid having room to run. His friends staying over. My people always having a place to land.”

Then she looked back at Tim. “I’m a family person at the end of the day. I want stability. I want roots in Dallas. I want all of that with Azzi and I’ll be able to give it to her without question if she wants it too.”

Tim’s expression didn’t shift too much, just a small smile—but there was something behind his eyes. Not just acceptance, but a trace of respect.

“You sound like someone who’s smart enough to mean what she says,” he murmured after a pause.

“I am,” Paige said simply.

Tim gave a slow nod, then leaned back in his chair again. “Alright then,” he said, a bigger smile breaking through. “I’m glad we had this talk. I can stop acting all tough now.”

Before Paige could respond to Tim’s last remark, the back patio slid open, laughter spilling out ahead of the people pouring through it. Azzi’s brothers came back out, talking trash about coinhole and calling dibs on teams. Their mothers followed, chatting with her grandparents, while Lukas trailed behind with a juice box in hand and a ball under his arm. Azzi stepped out last with a drink in one hand, a huge smile on her face as her eyes settled onto Paige.

Tim got up after hearing the talk of coinhole and walked to the other side of the backyard after patting Paige’s shoulder.

Azzi smiled at the interaction before saying, “I brought you a refill,” holding it out as she made her way over to Paige.

Paige smiled, thanking her softly, but Azzi didn’t stop there—she sat in Paige’s lap like she’d done a thousand times, tucking her head against Paige’s chest as she settled in sideways. It was natural. Like she belonged there.

The rest of their family migrated toward the court and the coin hole boards, their voices growing louder in the background, Lukas yelling in protest when his uncle Ryan walked into the backyard and “joined” Drew’s team after greeting everyone.

Azzi leaned down, lips brushing the corner of Paige’s mouth, but Paige dodged her—just slightly, but enough.

Azzi froze and pulled back, giving her an incredulous look considering Paige had never in her life dodged a kiss from her. “What?”

Paige chuckled, trying not to look at the ten sets of eyes within range. “Your family’s right there, baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard it made Paige laugh harder. “I’m a grown woman,” she said, her tone dry as she set her drink down, then reached up, fingers curling under Paige’s jaw so she couldn’t dodge her again.

Paige didn’t resist this time.

Azzi kissed her slowly, humming when she tasted the sweet mix of cocktail on her lips. When she pulled back, her eyes were a little dazed.

“I’m their favorite anyway,” she whispered.

Paige snorted. “I think Lukas is their favorite now.”

“Okay, second favorite,” Azzi conceded, brushing a loose strand of hair from Paige’s forehead. “But I’m definitely your favorite.”

Paige kissed her again, just once this time. “Not even a question.”

Across the yard, Lukas’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“Ma! Come be on my team, they’re cheating!”

Paige turned her head toward him, already grinning. “Alright!” she called back, laughing as she gave Azzi one more kiss, then patted her hip gently. “Gotta go be great real quick sexy.”

She was about to slide off the chair when Azzi caught her by the wrist.

“Wait. Take off those slides. I don’t want you to twist your ankle or mess up your metrics without your sole monitor.”

Paige paused, looked down at her feet, and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God, your brain never turns off when it comes to me. That shit so sexy.”

Azzi just shrugged, her eyes twinkling a little. “Someone’s gotta keep you together.”

That made Paige melt. She leaned back in, cupping Azzi’s cheek with one hand as she kissed her slowly, sliding her tongue in her mouth, right in the middle of the buzz of family around them.

“You’re so sweet, mama,” she whispered, forehead pressed against Azzi’s for a beat longer. “I love you.”

Azzi’s smile was soft. “I love you back.”

Then—

“MA!” Lukas yelled again, this time more impatient, and both women laughed.

Paige kicked off her slides, calling out, “I’m coming!” over her shoulder, and jogged in her socks across the backyard.

Azzi cupped her hands around her mouth and called out with a grin, “Don’t embarrass me in front of my family, Madison!”

Paige turned just before reaching the court, walking backward as she grinned back. “Embarrass you? Watch this.”

She clapped for the ball and once she had it she took one dribble before the ball arched through the air and smoothly through the net. Cheers erupted, Lukas throwing his hands up in celebration while Azzi just smiled and rolled her eyes at her.

Lukas launched into calling plays like he knew what he was talking about, tugging on Paige’s arm and telling her to guard Uncle Drew. Katie stood off to the side with Azzi’s grandmother and Paige’s mom, laughing at the chaos, while Tim, Azzi’s grandpa and her brothers hollered from the coin hole boards about made-up rules and cheating accusations.

The backyard was filled with a kind of quiet chaos—basketball bouncing, music faint from a speaker that Jose brought outside, laughter spilling from every direction. Warm string lights blinked to life overhead as the sun began to dip low, casting everything in gold. Azzi leaned back against the chair, watching her world play barefoot, a soft smile playing on her lips as she finished Paige’s drink.

It wasn’t perfect. Paige’s sister Lauren and her dad hadn’t been able to make it tonight.

But this was everything.

And Paige—glancing back at Azzi as she high-fived Lukas—felt it in her chest. This was the life she let herself dream about for so long.

And now she couldn’t imagine not having it.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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taxi-cab-to-slowtown · 12 hours ago

Text

PLEASE DC fandom understand this!!

When I'm discussing comics with someone and say something about Barry being the speedforce and you counter it with "that's just a theory" or "I don't like that canon" that just makes me wonder if you know the source material you're a fan of.

However, when I was messaging a friend about a fic and I said something about him taking it in a direction with speedforce Barry and he said "I don't like using it in my fics because it's so complicated and does not spark joy for me" I have full and complete respect of that opinion.

The thing is people need to understand that

if you're in a fandom space talking about a plot/idea you have to accept that someone might come in and say "what if we took it in this direction because of [enter canon thing here]"

They are not hating on your character/interpretation of canon

it is harassing the other person to say "That's not canon and you don't read enough to actually understand" no matter what it is.

PLEASE just say "i personally don't want to go in that direction" and that's it. It is so easy. When you are creating something it is up to you what you choose to accept and not accept as canon for your work.

When you are discussing canon... you do not get to choose was is "real" and "not real".

"you can't pick and choose what you like from canon" common misconception! yes you can

#dc comics #dc #looking at you “WFA is the real batman not the comics”#and you “WFA isn't real canon and you can't make me believe it is”#it's an elseworld #we can coexist #just stop convoluting what is your own headcanon/version of the story and what is the actual canon please!#write what you want and what you love #but don't try to argue that something isn't canon that is just because it doesn't align with what you want

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moonstruckme · 3 days ago

Note

hi mae!!!! i was wondering if you could write any marauder x reader where it's the readers first time and during she begins to not enjoy it as its kinda painful for her and wants to stop, and the marauder of your choosing is just very lovely and reassuring about her not wanting to continue. i love all your writing!!! xoxo

Love you, thanks for requesting <3

cw: mature content mdni, afab reader, implied inexperienced/virgin reader

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 825 words

You keep James close. There’s safety in his embrace, in the gentle press of his lips against yours, and you crave that solace right now. You hold his face in your hands, making sure he doesn’t retreat far enough to see your face or to leave you here by yourself.

You want a partner, not a witness.

“You feel so good,” he says, voice dropped about two octaves since you got him out of his clothes in the dimming light of his bedroom. “So perfect, angel.”

You keep your hips still and kiss up at him half desperately.

James groans. “Oh, god. You’re so perfect. How’s that feel?”

Your kisses turn breathier, your tight chest not taking in quite enough air. You let him cup your breast in a loving hand.

“Angel? Talk to me, m’love.”

You don’t feel confident you have the breath to speak. You don’t know why you can’t just do this.

The next exhale you send out pushes James away.

“Stop,” you say, voice already breaking.

To James’ credit, he follows your instructions immediately. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I want to stop.”

“Okay. Okay, lovely.” You cover your face with your hands as James sits up. The slight movement of him inside you isn’t enough to hurt, but the feeling makes you tighten anxiously anyway. You hear him hiss. “I’m just going to pull out, alright?”

It’s a funny sensation when he does, loneliness and relief both at once. You try not to make a sound as tears turn your skin slippery beneath your fingers.

“What’s the matter?” James’ tone is gentle, devastated in a way you think he’s trying to hide but can’t. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you choke out.

Impossibly, his voice quiets further. “Did it hurt?”

A tiny sob jostles its way out of you. You nod without moving your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds gutted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“What’re you sorry for? Hey, can I touch you? Is that alright? You can say no.”

There was never any doubt in your mind that you could, but you wouldn’t want to. You nod again, and in an instant James’ warm hands are soothing up your sides. The loneliness dissipates.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it,” you say, still unwilling to move your hands. “It didn’t hurt that badly, I just—I freaked out.”

“Angel.” James sounds like he might be chiding you, if he could bring himself to do it. He takes your hands, and as it turns out, you’re perfectly willing to have them moved by him. His gentle touch has your face coming out of hiding, bearing witness to his crushed expression.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begs. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. I definitely don’t want to scare you.”

“I know that.” Your voice is frail. “It wasn’t your fault.”

James’ brows hook. “I think I probably had some role,” he says, dropping a tender kiss to your cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it did? You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He’s absolutely lying, but you’re telling the truth. “It doesn’t, James. It barely even hurt when it happened.”

Your boyfriend makes a soft, sad sound. “Still.” He places a kiss next to your nose like he’s planning to soothe you inch by inch. “Do you think you might be bleeding?” You’re unsure. “Can I check?”

You hum your consent, albeit somewhat nervously. James kisses you in thanks. He reaches a hand down between your legs, bringing it back up to find only the sort of wetness you both intended. He wipes it off on his own leg, kissing you again. Kissing, kissing, kissing.

“We can try again,” you start to say. “Maybe not today, but—”

He shushes you. “We don’t have to, lovely. I mean, if you want, of course we can give it another go, but don’t feel like you have to.”

You feel a sort of shrinking in your chest. A quiet, vicious insecurity darkens your thoughts. “You don’t want to?”

James’ eyebrows jump. “Do you?”

“I…”

“Sweetheart.” He rubs your hip, brown-eyed gaze soft. “You said you got freaked out, right? I mean, it’s understandable, I would have too, but when I have a bad experience with something I usually want a bit of a break before going at it again. Don’t you want a breather?”

“Oh.” Your voice quiets. “I don’t…I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “Take your time, lovely, I’ll be here. You just have to say the word, yeah?”

Your reply is a low hum. You finally muster the courage to go to him. You sit up to put your arms around James’ shoulders, your warm chests pressing together. He envelops you without hesitation.

“It wasn’t a completely bad experience,” you mumble into his skin.

You can practically feel the bloom of his smile as he presses it into your forehead.

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pomelace · 2 days ago

Text

more than a sip

pairing: jack abbot x afab!resident reader

content warnings: fluff, no physical desciptors used for reader, reader is a resident and has a brother, implied age gap, doesn't take place during the shows timeline, let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : dedicated to @multifandom-2091, thank you for the request, I hope you like it! I struggled a bit as I fell into a small writers slump halfway through, but here it is! writing this made me want to write more for jack, so stay tuned for that. as always, I hope you enjoy and requests are open!

word count: 1473

The rain drums steady on the pavement as you step out into the ambulance bay, the hospital doors hissing shut behind you. The air is thick with the smell of wet dirt and concrete, cool against your skin. You lean back against the wall just beside the doors, eyes half-closed, phone glowing in your hand.

Your fingers tap out a quick message:

Did you eat?? I left pasta in the fridge. Please don’t just eat cereal again. Love you. Be home by 8.

You don’t expect a reply—it’s three in the morning, and no one in their right mind should be awake. But your brother is. Either passed out on the couch with a controller still in his hand, or ignoring your text the same way he ignored you this morning—right after the fight, right before you left for another fifteen-hour shift.

It was a stupid argument—one he started, because he’s a teenager and teenagers are always angry about something. You know the type of anger; you used to wear it like armor too.

You put your parents through the same storm of slammed doors and sharp words. The difference is, they were still around to weather it. You’re all he’s got now.

So you take it—the harsh words, the door slams, the silence that lingers like smoke. You don’t hold it against him. You never do.

Instead, you text him like clockwork, always checking in even when he expects you not to. Especially when he expects you not to.

There’s peace in just standing there, tucked beneath the small overhang by the doors, the rain kept at bay by a strip of shelter overhead. Each drop falls with a soft, steady rhythm, a quiet lullaby against the metal.

As you wait for a response you know isn’t coming, you start to count the droplets you hear.

One, two, three...

“Should I be concerned you’ve taken up loitering?” a voice calls from behind you, low and rough around the edges.

You glance over your shoulder and catch sight of Dr. Abbot stepping out into the damp night, two coffee cups in hand. His dark scrubs are hidden beneath the black hoodie he always wears, hood down.

The lights from inside spill across his face, catching the salt-and-pepper in his hair, making him look tired than usual—almost distant, like he’s not entirely here.

“Loitering implies I’m not on shift,” you murmur, tucking your phone into your scrub pocket.

“I’m just… pretending the air inside doesn’t taste like bleach.”

He hums, taking a sip from his cup before handing you the other one. For you.

“Almond milk and honey,” he says gently, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How did you—” you start to ask, but he cuts you off before you can thank him.

“You talk out loud when you think no one’s listening.”

Jack notices the little things: how you stir your coffee just so, the gentle, rhythmic motion; how you always avoid sweeteners, opting for just the almond milk and honey; how you don't like dairy, even though it’s practically everywhere.

He watches you for a moment, the corners of his lips turning up slightly as if he’s cataloging every small detail you don’t even realize you’re giving away.

“Careful,” he says, his voice low but teasing, “You’re going to burn your tongue.”

You look up at him, surprised by the sudden attention, but there's something comforting in the way he’s paying so much attention to the smallest things.

You roll your eyes playfully, though it’s hard to keep up the facade when you feel his gaze.

“I’m fine,” you reply, but there's warmth in your voice, a subtle acknowledgment that the smallest things—like this moment, this cup of coffee—mean more than you want to admit.

He shrugs, taking a sip from his own cup, his eyes never leaving you.

“I’m just saying, you might want to take it slow with the ‘hot’ part.”

You smile, the kind that tugs at your heart just a little too much. You know exactly what he’s doing.

He’s not just watching you sip your coffee. He’s seeing you, in all the quiet ways that no one else does.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say again, this time with more meaning, the weight of the simple gesture settling between you like a shared secret.

“It's nice of you to finally grace the outside world,” you mutter, eyeing him with a smile from the rim of your coffee cup.

“I thought you were glued to the nurse’s station, brooding over charting mistakes and bad coffee.”

“I was,” he says, voice dry.

“Then I realized I hadn’t heard you complain in twenty minutes. Figured something might be wrong.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

“I was going for some peaceful silence, actually.”

He snorts, a small chuckle escaping him.

“That doesn’t suit you.”

A comfortable silence settles between you. Outside, the rain falls in silver sheets, soft and steady. You both sip your coffee, letting the warmth seep into your fingers.

He glances between you, the rain, and the rim of his cup. He doesn’t say anything—just clears his throat, like he wants to speak but hasn’t found the words yet.

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “What?”

He shrugs, eyes still fixed on the window.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You start to respond, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t you prefer it that way?”

But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he turns to you—really turns to you—and something in his expression shifts. His eyes soften. The teasing falls away.

“I mean it. You’ve been off today. Not talking much, not—”

“Not complaining enough?” you interrupt with a light chuckle, trying to deflect.

But he just shakes his head again, gently.

“No. Seriously. Are you okay?”

You contiplate whether to tell him the truth or not on how you're doing. You look between him and the rim of your steaming cup. You know you can tell him, confide in him, but when is it too much to say?

"You can tell me," he whispers, like he can see straight through you.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, giving a soft nod.

"I'm okay," you say lightly, almost too casually, like you're brushing it off.

"Just dealing with a lot, like always."

But he doesn't look convinced. He shakes his head, his eyes locking onto yours, unwavering and determined to get through to you.

"I mean it," he insists, his voice low and serious.

"Are you really okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, then offer him a smile — the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but is enough to soften the moment.

"Really, I'm good, Jack," you say, and this time, the smile feels a little more genuine. It’s enough for him to let it go, but he’s still watching you closely.

"Fine," he says, his tone easing but still laced with concern.

"If you say so."

You chuckle softly, the weight of the conversation lifting just a little.

"I’ll come to you when I’m near losing my mind," you tease, half-serious, half-joking. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’ll be waiting," he says, his voice warm, a promise hidden beneath the words.

You take a deep breath, feeling just a little lighter now. You shift closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as you both stand in quiet solidarity against the wall, side by side.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You don’t look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the rain as it falls from the sky. The question hangs between you two, and you wait, the silence stretching just long enough to make the moment feel heavier than it really is.

From the corner of your eye, you notice him shift, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yes," he replies softly, his voice steady but gentle.

"Right now, I am," he continues, turning his head just enough to watch you.

Right now, here with you, I am.

The thought catches him off guard, as if it’s been there all along, hiding just beneath the surface.

He doesn’t say it aloud, but something about the weight of the moment shifts, settling into him in a way that makes him feel like he’s been missing something obvious.

He watches you—how your fingers curl around your coffee, how the tip of your nose turns pink from the cold breeze, how your laughter feels like the kind of music that makes everything else fade away.

He drinks in the small details of you, trying to tell himself it’s just casual, just the way things are.

But it doesn’t feel like that anymore, or maybe it never did.

©pomelace 2025

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #x reader #request #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot #shawn hatosy #the pitt hbo

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xximperioxx · 2 days ago

Text

Help Me Hold Onto You

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k (not proofread)

Warnings: parent death (mother) , mourning, panic attack/breakdown(reader throws up), patient death, robby walks in on reader having a panic attack, fluff, age gap, medical inaccuracies, very brief mention reader having tattoos

Notes: For some reason did not include a dad but oh well. Probably why the reader has a thing for Robby. this took me a while to write idk. Also I based the panic attack symptoms on mine so pls don’t come at me. Totally listened to The Archer by Taylor Swift while writing this. Thank you for all the love recently and hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————

You don’t hear Robby’s voice telling you to call the time of death until he puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

You silently watch Donnie and Mateo cover the woman’s body.

“She was your family?” Mel asks

Your eyes pull away from the now sheet covered body to look at her confused, “No, she-she came in yesterday.”

She sees your confusion and nervously rocks on the heels of her feet. “Oh. You called her mom, I just assumed.”

Your head whips up and your eyes burn with anger. “No, I didn’t.”

Mel shrinks and is about to open her mouth before Robby pops his head back into the room instructing everyone to take a break.

An irritated scoff leaves your mouth as you slip away from the group. Donnie and Mateo share a silent look.

Your heart hurts. It’s not that you didn’t believe Mel- you absolutely did. You just didn't think you would slip like that. Someone else’s mom you couldn’t save. You let her slip away like your own mother. Same cause of death. A heart attack.

You come to a stop and your hand rests at your chest. Your heart thumping loudly. Your eyes begin to burn as you try to focus your breathing.

Your feet move you to the closest bathroom which happens to be the unisex bathroom.

You bust open the bathroom door, fully hyperventilating now.

You couldn’t save her. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to your own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mel finds herself approaching Dr. Robby at the hub. “Dr. Robby,” She interrupts, “I’m um… concerned about Dr. (Y/N).”

Robby continues his work on the tablet, “Well, she did just lose a patient, Dr. King, and that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times.”

“She kept calling the patient ‘mom’. At some point during compressions I heard her say, ‘Please don’t do this mom’.” Robby’s eyes glance up with concern. She continues, “I tried to ask her about it and she got angry.”

He sets the tablet on the counter. “I’ll check in on her.” He gestures to the screen, “And you keep up the good work with your patients.”

As Dr. King walks away, Robby slides his glasses to the top of his head before running his hands down his face. He knew something was up. Normally the two of you worked in sync. Two peas in a pod. You were his top senior resident, not that he would admit it out loud.

You were always in his eyesight and even on your days off, Robby’s eyes would search for you. You had taken a few days off during the week and you had left suddenly. Not even letting him know, he had found out from Gloria you would be taking a few days off due to personal reasons. He knew something was wrong when he texted you and never got a response or when you had come back to work with dark circles under your eyes. You looked fragile and not your usual radiant, lighthearted self. There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs, no glances directed at Robby or anyone in the Pitt.

Robby had watched Gloria approach you at the beginning on your shift. How she took your hands and gently told you something he couldn’t read on lips. How you gave her a weak smile as you said thank you. When you just silently stood with your arms around yourself for a few moments after Gloria walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slide to the floor gripping at your chest and neck as if it would help you breathe.

You don’t hear the door open with the ringing in your ears nor do you see who swiftly comes into the small bathroom. Your eyes are closed with the intent of trying to focus on your heartbeat. Hopefully to also stop the tears from flowing.

Robby rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, finally catching a moment to pee.

The sound of a zipper causes your eyes to peek open. A noise attempts to come out of your throat. You recognize the navy blue sweatshirt and cargo pants. Your head finds itself back in between your knees.

Robby jolts at the sudden noise, “Jesus – fuck.” He whips his head around. His eyes widen at the sight of you. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

He quickly zips his pants back up ignoring his belt as he kneels in front of you. His hands pull your face up, his eyes scanning your face. Your name continues to slip from his mouth.

Your eyes open and your vision is still fuzzy. His fingers graze over some stratch marks on your neck before checking your pulse. 160 bpm. Your shortness of breath suddenly turns into dry heaving. Without thinking, you shove Robby to the side and retch into the toilet. All that comes up is the iced coffee you had this morning.

Robby places a gentle hand on your back. You let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally feeling like you can breathe again as if you threw up the heavy feeling in your chest. You finally pull your face away from the toilet and let your body relax. Grabbing some toilet paper, you wipe the lingering tears on your face before looking at Robby.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bathroom break,” your voice raspy. A tired smile attempts to form.

He leans against the bathroom wall with you. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes studying you. “You doing okay?”

You blink.

He takes in your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles before letting out a nervous chuckle at your reaction.

“Besides the fact that you walked in on me having a panic attack?” You press your lips into a fine line, “Just peachy.”

He nods and nudges your shoulder with his. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

You scoff while standing up. Robby lets out a groan as he stands up, his joints yelling at him. You turn the faucet on and begin washing your hands. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You wipe your hands,“That’s rich coming from you.”

Robby wants to flinch. There had been moments in the past where you had begged him to tell you how he was feeling whenever he would shut himself down. You had begged him to let you help him. You always saw right through him. He always pushed you away and you would always pull him back in.

He sighs. “I just want to help you. I’m worried about you.”

You huff, “Just stop. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Robby tries to reach for you. You jerk away as your voice wavers, “Please just leave me alone. I-I want to be alone.”

His heart breaks. You sound like him. His lips press together as he watches you unlock the door. He runs his hand through his hair. The roles are reversed now.

You pause before leaving, “Don’t forget to piss.”

All you hear is a snigger as you slip out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the hub. Your eyes up to see Langdon already staring at you. A small smirk resting on his face.

You sigh, “What?”

He leans against the counter, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you just walked out of the single bathroom Robby happens to be in.”

The two senior residents watch Dr. Robby walk out of the bathroom. You quickly clear your throat and reach over Langdon, grabbing a tablet, “You just love being an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Robby would never want to admit it to himself but you’re the one he would risk it all for. Yet he’s too scared to act on his feelings with you. When he looks at you, he’s reminded of his failed relationships and deep down he knows he’s better off alone. He wouldn’t make you happy in the long run. You’re young. You have your whole career left ahead of you and he doesn’t want to put that in jeopardy.

Dana snaps her fingers in front of Robby’s face. He gently shoves her hand out of his way. Her hands now on her waist.

“I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes.” She searches his face. “You okay?”

He aimlessly nods, his mind still on you. Dana gives him an update regarding some patients. Half listening, he glances past Dana and focuses on you. You meet his gaze.

Robby interrupts her, “Do you know what’s going on with (Y/N)? She’s not herself.”

Dana tries to joke, “Worried about her, lover boy?” He gives her a look. “Right. Well, the poor kid just lost her mother. She just lost a part of herself. So of course she’s going to be out of it.”

Robby's face falls. His heart drops. The pit in his stomach is now bigger. Why didn’t you tell him?

Dana notices the look and frowns, “Did she not tell you?”

He goes to look for you but you’re nowhere to be seen. He shakes his head out of frustration. “It’s like she’s shutting me out.”

The charge nurse puts her hand on his shoulder, “Sounds like someone I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby finds you making a coffee an hour later. Just as you’re about to take a sip, Robby takes the cup out of your hand and tosses it in the trash.

“Robby, are you fucking serious?” If looks could kill.

“You’re going home.”

“What?”

“Grab your bag. You’re going home.”

This time you laugh. You brush past him.

He backs up, blocking the doorway. “I’m serious.”

You look at him unimpressed, “Well, jokes on you I don’t have any more PTO or sick time so I can't leave.” You try to sneak under his arm through the doorway.

His arm curls around you, stopping you once again. He sighs, “As your attending, I am making the decision to send you home.”

You furiously blink away some tears, “You’re going to pull the attending card now, Robby?”

He silently nods.

“Y-You don’t understand I need,” you let out a shaky breath, “–I need to work. Please Michael.”

His lips press into a thin line as the sinking feeling in his chest returns. He was trying to do what’s best for you.

Robby’s arm drops. He looks down and gently takes a hold of your hand, “You need to mourn.”

You rip your hand away. Almost angry he knew about your mother. Your lips trembling while shaking your head, “No-No, I don’t.”

Robby lets out a deep breath. “Please.” Finally, you look up at the man in front of you. “You need to go home.”

You stand there, bitterly wiping away tears as you watch Robby walk away to grab your backpack from the hub. You sniffle.

How could he just send you home like this? How could you let yourself break down this much? He can’t just do this to you when you have tried to help him mourn Adamson for years. You angrily take your bag from his hand and brush past him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jess, if I get any more sympathy flowers I’m going to start giving them back as a warning. Like an omen.”

Your roommate, Jessica, takes the vase of flowers from you. “I like them. They brighten up the apartment.”

You begin to walk to your room, “Yeah...nothing like being reminded your mom just died with flowers.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She yells from the other room.

You lay on your bed, picking at your fingers. Your eyes close. You haven’t slept in days. You have a migraine from crying. Any time you were alone your thoughts were plagued with her. Childhood memories. Her passing. The future without her. She would never see you get married, meet her grandkids, see you succeed.

Your mind wanders to Robby. She would never meet him. You talked about him enough that she probably had him imaged out. You see him with you. Your future. Together.

Your eyes pop open. Did you just think about marrying him? Suddenly your heart aches, feeling guilty with how you treated him. You were shutting him out. You don’t want to push him away. God if anyone knew what you were going through it would be him.

You stare at the ceiling fan. Maybe you should text him.

“(Y/N)! You have a special delivery.” Your roommate sings out.

You sigh and curl into your bed. You hear her call your name again.

Slowly but surely you stand up from your bed. Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make your way to the living room. You can hear Jess making small talk with someone. “Jess I told you - give the flowers back. Let them be an omen.”

You pause when you see Robby in your apartment. Tired eyes, a warm smile on his face, a hand in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a coffee, and his backpack on the floor by his feet. He’s still in his scrub top and cargo pants meaning he had come right after work. To see you.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move away from Jess, taking you in. Your hair still damp from a shower, an oversized college shirt, and a pair of pajama shorts. Robby’s eyes can’t help but trail up your legs, noticing tattoos he didn’t know you had.

He snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “I brought you a coffee.”

“To make up for the one you threw out?”

He nods. You purse your lips to stop you from grinning. You take the coffee from his hand.

“I’m uh–going to go grocery shopping. Please make yourself at home.” Jess picks up her bag from the kitchen table. She hesitates, stopping by you. She whispers with excitement, “Is this doctor daddy?”

With a roll of your eyes, you give her a shove. You notice the tip of Robby’s ears turned bright red at the not so quiet comment. Your roommate waves goodbye before heading out.

You take a seat on your couch. “How’d you find my address anyways?”

Robby rubs the back of his neck, “Langdon.”

“That little fucker,” you mutter. He cracks a smile.

Robby follows you to the couch. He walks over to a shelf, admiring your life outside of work in pictures. You sip your coffee. It’s quiet.

He gently picks up a face-down picture frame. It’s you and your mom smiling at each other. You watch him as his eyes study the picture.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want people knowing.” You sigh, “I guess it’s been a way for me to feel like the whole thing never happened.”

He takes a seat next to you. Your knees touching, “You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to send you home like that– I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I know you didn’t get to mourn Adamson like you should have. I know it still haunts you.”

He shakes his head almost wincing at his mentor’s name, “I could see myself in you today and that terrified me.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Your eyes become watery, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Robby mutters, “I hated that you shut me out.”

Looking down, you blink away your tears, “I just feel so broken. Alone.”

He looks at you and whispers quietly, “I’ll put you back together,” he lets go of your hand. His calloused fingers trace your jawline, gently turning your head to look at him. “Just like you’re doing with me.”

Your eyes search his, “You would stay?”

A grin spreads onto his face, “Can’t get rid of me. Even if you tried.” His face softens, “Help me hold onto you.”

Your face mirrors his, “I mean I’ve held onto you this long.”

Robby jokes, “I know how you feel now when you try to take care of me.”

You lean into him, “I can be pretty annoying.”

He smirks and leans in closer, “I’d say so.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

He brushes your hair out of your face, “And why’s that?”

“We see right through each other.”

There was never a time where you didn’t see through Robby’s bullshit lies. Whenever Gloria would get on his nerves, when he was struggling with his depression or anxiety, or when he had a tough patient. Robby always seemed to know when you didn’t get enough sleep, having a rough mental health day, when you were hangry, or when you just needed a hug.

Robby’s dilated eyes dart down to your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dr. Robinavitch?” You murmured. Your soft lips brush against his.

“If you’d let me.”

He takes your nod as a yes. Robby closes the gap between you and connects your lips together. You immediately reciprocate, gently kissing him back. His rough calloused hands cup your face, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds you slowly pull away. His forehead rests against yours.

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about that for an embarrassingly long time.”

A groan rumbles at the back of Robby's throat. “You don’t want to know what I’ve thought about.”

You snicker before placing a soft kiss beneath his beard. “We can discuss that later.”

He pulls your legs over his lap and wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest as his hand rests on your bare thigh.

You listen to his accelerated heart beat slowly calm. He lays his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. You stifle a yawn.

“I wish you could have met her,” you whisper.

“I would tell her she has the most intelligent and beautiful daughter…” his thumb gently caressing your skin, “And that she won’t have to worry about you because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swells, “Thank you.”

“Adamson is proud of you. I know it.” You mumble into his chest. Robby releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A sense of reassurance floods him. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

After a few moments, Robby hears your breathing become slow and rhythmic.

Robby sighs, “I would also tell your mom–I have loved her daughter for a long time and have just been too afraid to admit it.”

“I love you too, Michael.” You tiredly mumble as the curve of your mouth curled up slightly.

He presses his lips to the top of your head with an embarrassed smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica comes back to the apartment to find the two of you on the couch. Robby quietly snoring and you in his arms, sleeping for the first time in days.

#I listened to the archer by Taylor swift while writing this #it’s obvious #the pitt #dr. robby x reader #hbo #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby #dr robinavitch #the pitt fic #the pitt imagine #the pitt x reader #hbo max

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