#there’s an eye for each voice if you pay attention! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jammydodger3579 · 3 days ago

Text

Stuck

Summary: Logan loves to tease his pillow princess.

A/N: Back into writing more. not that I have the spare time for it haha, I just love to do it. so keep the requests and suggestions coming.

Masterlist || Patreon || Discord server

1000+ word count

18+ for mature audiences only

Warnings: smut, teasing, tickling(?)

“Okay, the movie’s over. Time to brush our teeth and go to bed?” Logan’s voice made you jump. You were half asleep, not paying attention to the movie Logan had suggested you both watch. It was a war thriller anyway, nothing you were that interested in. You groaned sarcastically.

“But I’m comfy!!” you exclaimed. Logan looked at you, all wrapped up in blankets in the bed. He sighed.

“I suppose there’s one way I can get you outta bed, princess” His hands slowly went under the blankets, his fingers tracing your skin. The anticipation for what he would do built up in your stomach as you held eye contact. His eyes darkened as he then, to your surprise, started tickling behind your knee. You screamed out a laugh, kicking your feet in the air. Logan chuckled. The blankets fell to the floor as you rolled off the bed, away from Logan. He then moved his hands up to your sides, digging them in to tickle there as well.

“L-Logan!! Okay, okay! I get it. I’m up” you panted, standing up next to the bed. Logan got off the bed too, putting his hands on your sides. You flinched, running towards the door. “NO! You’ll tickle me again”

“No, I won’t” Logan shook his head, his voice was deep. He smiled and reached his hands out to yours. You grabbed them, knowing he couldn’t tickle you if you held his hands. He pressed your body against the door, raising your hands above your head. He adjusted his hands so only one was holding your wrists in place, while the other traced slowly down your side. You tried to squirm away but his strength overpowered you. “I’m not gonna tickle you, bub. You gotta trust me”

His hands reached down to grab your ass as he pressed himself against you, leaning in for a kiss. You kissed back, deepening it with your tongue as you went. Logan moaned into your lips, gripping your ass tightly. He moved his hand down to pull your leg around him. You could feel his growing erection against your panties. With his other hand, he let go of your wrists, freeing himself of his boxers. You kept an arm draped over his shoulder and the other hand was tangled in his hair, holding him close so he couldn’t break the kiss. Logan, with one hand under your ass, and the other holding his cock, started grinding into you, against your panties. You moaned as he brushed his cock against your clit. He smiled into the kiss, leaning away ever so slightly. “How bad do you want it?”

“S-so bad,” you breathed out.

“Hmm,” Logan went back to kissing you, grinding into you, teasing you. His lips left your mouth and found a comfortable spot on your neck, biting, sucking and kissing away. You gripped onto his shoulder as you moaned in enjoyment. You could feel yourself getting wet with anticipation from grinding against Logan’s cock. He stopped working your neck, going back to kissing your lips. It was heated, messy and full of tongue. The leg you had wrapped around Logan was now pulling him against you. You needed him, as close as you could possibly get him. Logan reached down and, placing his other hand under your ass, picked you up in one swift move. He turned around and placed you down on the bed. He tugged your panties off you, not caring if he slightly tore them. It would be just another thing that Logan has damaged during sex. He spread your legs, returning his cock to tease your cunt. Each time it passed over your clit, you squirmed a little in place, eager for him to fuck you already.

“How bad do you want it?” Logan said again. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled Logan in for a desperate kiss. You needed him now and you needed him to know.

“So bad,” you said against his lips, this time with more certainty. Logan started rubbing his cock against your clit, before he placed it at your entrance.

“One more time, princess. How bad do you want it?” Logan’s voice was low, gravely. You wriggled your hips, panting, your cunt throbbing.

“So. Bad”

“You naughty girl. So desperate to get fucked” He said, thrusting into you. You both let out a sigh of relief as he made a pace, griping your hips for more stability. You could already feel yourself getting close, it wasn’t gonna take long. Not with all that foreplay. Your moans were getting more louder, more frequent. Logan could tell, moving your legs to rest over his shoulders. He fucked you good and deep. The room was filled with the noises of his low grunts, your loud moans, and the slapping of skin with each thrust and movement Logan made. Pleasure filled your body, you were so close to coming. Your pussy tightened around Logan’s cock, causing another deep moan to escape him. “I’m gonna use you to cum”

“Do it, baby” you barely managed to breathe out. Logan’s movements sped up, getting rougher. His hands on your hips moved to your thighs. Your moans were so loud now, you couldn’t care if anyone heard you. At least they’d know you were getting fucked good. “Harder babe, use me like a toy”

“Oh, you good girl, such a princess for me. Letting me tease and play with you,” Logan said, making your wish come true. You could feel your end coming near.

“Oh yes, yes, yes,” You said, coming undone around Logan. Your pussy tightened at just the right time for Logan to cum as well, his low grunts turning into moans of pleasure. After riding out your highs together, Logan lowered your legs to wrap around his waist and pulled you up to his chest. His breathing was heavy, as was yours. Both a sweaty mess. You couldn’t stop shaking. You leaned up to kiss Logan on the cheek. He smiled and kissed you back, this time full of love and admiration. Once you both caught your breath, you separated from him and got a cloth to tidy yourself up. You handed it to Logan and he did the same.

“Time for bed? We still have to brush our teeth. Just, this time, don’t get stuck by the door. I don’t know what happened there,” Logan said chuckling. You sighed. His bad jokes are what makes you love him though.

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pbaz7 · 22 hours ago

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AGAINST THE TIDE — PART TWO

paige x azzi

warnings: language

word count: 4.8k

A/N: Here’s the next chapter!! It’s another chap of me setting the scene so bear with me. The next chapters when Azzi officially gets on campus will have more interaction between them. I’m also not sure how I feel about the 1st person POV so I might stop after this who knows. Anywho let me know what you think and leave comments and live reactions if you can!! Happy New Year everyone 🥳

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July 2019 - Paige POV

I was deep into my basketball workout, the sound of the ball echoing through the gym as I went through the drills with precision. My trainer standing by the sideline, coaching me through each movement — footwork, ball-handling, shot mechanics. I was lost in the rhythm of it all, my mind focused solely on the next move, the next shot, just as I did every offseason.

But then, something on the TV caught my attention.

The US 3x3 tournament was on — I hadn't been paying too much attention to it, but I always found time for basketball, no matter who was playing. It was in my blood. I just loved the game at all levels.

My focus slipped for a second as I looked over at the screen, noticing the score was a little close. Then I saw Azzi.

I froze, the ball bouncing softly at my side as I watched everything unfold. One minute, she was pushing through the defense, looking like she was about to make a play, and the next, she was on the floor. Her knee buckled awkwardly, and I saw her fall, immediately clutching it. The pain was clear as day on her face.

"Oh fuck," I muttered under my breath, the word escaping before I could stop it. My trainer immediately moving toward the TV to turn the volume up.

The announcers' voices filled the gym, sharp with concern. "All of a sudden there’s concern for the health of one of the best high schoolers in the country. We can only hope Azzi Fudd is able to walk out of here on her own which will be a good sign for all the viewers who I’m sure are holding their breath as this all unfolds." One said, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily in his tone.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen as Azzi stayed down, her face twisted in pain, tears welling in her eyes as the camera zoomed in on her. I hate when they do that shit.

I didn’t particularly like Azzi. She was too passive for my liking, not nearly as fiery or intense as I thought a player should be. Especially someone of her caliber. Plus she fouled the hell out of me for no reason that one time. But seeing her in that kind of pain? That wasn’t something I could enjoy. Despite all the rivalry, despite everything, I hated seeing anyone get hurt.

For all our back-and-forth, the trash talk, the competitiveness that had grown between us, I never wanted to see her hurt. She had just had an incredible season, her name up there with the best in the country — and now, it could all come crashing down in a second. This injury could change everything for her, just like that.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when my trainer asked, “You think she’s going to be ight?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stood there, watching as they helped Azzi off the court, her face still contorted in pain as she limped off. It hit me kinda hard — this was a big deal, and despite everything that had happened on the court between us, I couldn’t help but feel for her.

“Yeah,” I muttered. "I’m sure she’ll bounce back."

After that the gym felt a little different now. The ball didn’t bounce as loudly, and the drill didn’t seem as important. All I could think about was how quickly things could change in an instant. How that could have been me. How it could still be me.

…

Later that night, laying in bed, Paige aimlessly scrolled through social media. Her feed was flooded with news of Azzi's injury. It was everywhere. All anyone seemed to be talking about was the #1 player in the class of 2021 tearing both her ACL and MCL after her incredible sophomore year. Paige had to admit, it hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She had seen Azzi's growth first-hand the few times they’d played — her rise to stardom, the awards, and now, this. The thought of the rivalry they'd shared now feeling so... empty... nagged at her.

Paige knew that she’d see St. John’s again twice next year but something about the thought of no Azzi in the mix made it not as exciting. Without Azzi, there wouldn’t be any real competition left. Their games had been some of the most intense, back-and-forth battles she’d ever played in, and now that felt like it was over. There was no way Azzi would be back before the playoffs next year.

Paige’s fingers hovered over her phone screen as her mind wandered. She didn’t know why she was doing this, but she found herself scrolling through her contacts, looking for Azzi's number. They’d played together on the U16 team and Paige had everyone’s number from the team saved after they insisted on having a groupchat. She tapped it and paused, unsure of what to say, knowing if she was in Azzi’s shoes no words would ease whatever she was feeling. Still she sent a message anyway.

You'll bounce back. It's just a setback Fudd.

She stared at the message, fingers hovering for a moment before hitting send. She didn’t expect a response. What was she even doing? Azzi probably didn’t even want to hear from her, they didn’t even like each other. But it felt wrong to just leave it at that — to not acknowledge what Azzi was going through. She knew the girl after all.

With a heavy sigh, Paige set her phone down and went to brush her teeth to get ready for bed. She didn’t really expect a response back.

But when she returned, phone in hand, her screen illuminated, signaling a new notification.

Thank you, means a lot.

Paige typed a quick reply: Anytime.

Then she put her phone on the nightstand, settling into bed as she turned on a WNBA game.

November 2019

Azzi sat at the end of the bench, her leg throbbing slightly beneath the brace, trying to make sense of the game she’d just watched. Her team had been outclassed from the jump, and without her on the floor, it felt like they had no chance. Paige of course had been unstoppable—37 points, and the craziest part was, she didn’t touch the floor the whole fourth quarter. It was almost embarrassing to watch.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the game, Azzi’s shoulders slumped and she sighed in relief that it was over. She didn’t even look at the scoreboard; it didn’t matter. She stayed seated as her teammates lined up to shake hands with the Gonzaga players. The energy in the gym was deflated—everyone had known the outcome was a foregone conclusion the moment the game tipped off.

As Azzi adjusted her knee brace and slowly stood up, she was surprised to see Paige walking toward her.

The other players from Gonzaga hadn’t thought to come over and shake her hand, but Paige didn’t hesitate. She offered Azzi a quick high five, her face a mix of competitiveness and something else. Azzi raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the gesture but unwilling to show any emotion to the blonde in front of her.

Paige’s voice was light, almost teasing. “What’s that, 4-1 now, Fudd?”

Azzi couldn’t help but scoff. “You didn’t talk shit the whole game,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You just had to come over here and ruin it, didn't you?”

Paige laughed, a playful glint in her eyes. As she turned to walk away, she tossed over her shoulder, “No comp to talk shit to on the court that’s all.”

Azzi watched her go, a mix of annoyance and begrudging admiration in her chest. Paige had a way of making things look easy, and even though Azzi hated it and hated how she acted, she couldn’t deny it—Paige was damn good.

March 2020 - Paige’s POV

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands, stomach in knots. My phone sat next to me, buzzing with more notifications I couldn’t bring myself to check. The championship game we’d worked so damn hard for, the perfect season we’d earned — all of it, gone. Just like that.

CoVid-19 had canceled the last game, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It felt like a bad dream. The end of my high school career. Just like that, like a snap of a few fingers. Kind of funny how life is in that way.

We had been unstoppable. Undefeated. We were supposed to go out on top. I was supposed to walk off that court with my teammates, with that championship trophy, the culmination of all the hard work and sacrifice after losing last year. But now, it was all over, and I was left with nothing but this empty feeling in my chest.

It felt wrong, especially after the season I’d had. Gatorade Female High School Athlete of the Year. Gatorade National Player of the Year. Naismith Prep Player of the Year. Morgan Wootten National Player of the Year. I was on the cover of SLAM, for fucks sake. A McDonald’s All-American. I was supposed to play in the Jordan Brand Classic. The championship with my team was supposed to be the last piece of the puzzle. And now it was just... taken from me. From all of us.

I wasn’t the only one feeling it, but that didn’t make it any easier. My teammates were crushed, too. We all were. We’d worked for this. We had dreams about our comeback season, and now they were dashed. I just couldn’t understand how everything had unraveled so quickly.

It wasn’t just about the game, though. It was everything that came with it. The way everything seemed to be falling into place too quickly. My future at UConn was waiting, but it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me before I was ready. All of a sudden, the world felt uncertain even though I knew exactly where I was headed for the next four years.

I tried not to think about the stuff I’d lose, like the last game I was supposed to play, the players I was supposed to compete against, and the milestones I was supposed to hit with my team. Instead, I kept thinking about what was next.

The only thing I could do right now was work. There was no championship trophy to hold, no fans to cheer for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still prepare.

So, I grabbed my shoes and headed to the gym. I knew there was no real closure here. Not right now, so it was pointless to get in my feelings about it. Pointless to sit around and be sad. There was still a season ahead of me, more basketball to play. College was waiting now.

…

The gym was quiet except for the sound of basketballs bouncing. Paige was working through her shots, focused as she tested her range and worked on different combo moves. She wasn’t expecting company, everything was shut down. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the future, not on what had been taken from her. The weight of losing her senior season to the pandemic still hung over her, though she didn’t let it show in her work.

Then, she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. She pulled off her headphones and turned around, surprised to see Azzi standing there. It had been about seven months since Azzi’s knee injury, and seeing her standing there in person was different from seeing her in a game. The two of them never really spoke outside of playing one another, and the awkwardness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them.

Azzi paused when their eyes met. “My bad, didn’t know anyone was here,” she said, clearly about to turn and leave. The gym was small and only half a court and she didn’t want to deal with whatever Paige had to say today.

Paige shook her head in disagreement, clearly not phased by her presence. “It’s cool. You don’t need to leave.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding and walking over to the bench, sitting down to put on her basketball shoes. Paige returned to shooting. Once Azzi had finished getting ready, she stood up, stretched, and grabbed a ball. Paige was still shooting when she glanced over taking off her headphones again.

“How’s the knee?” Paige asked before she could stop herself, looking down at the black sleeve covering Azzi’s right leg. Her voice broke the silence, and Azzi looked at her, surprised by the blonde speaking to her.

“It’s a work in progress,” Azzi replied, her tone softer than Paige had ever heard. It was clear she was still recovering, but she didn’t seem too eager to talk about it.

Paige simply hummed in response, turning back to the basket. Neither of them said much after that.

Paige continued to go through her drills as Azzi worked on her shots, most of them swishing effortlessly through the net, though she was missing more than usual. Paige, focused as always, didn’t really think too much about what the other girl had going on. After a while of silence, Azzi turned to her.

“Congrats on all your awards, by the way,” Azzi said, her voice genuine, even if it came out a little unexpectedly and awkwardly. Paige nodded, briefly acknowledging it with a half smile. There wasn’t much more to say—her accomplishments had all come in a season that felt incomplete, and she didn’t really wanna think about that right now.

Then, on a rebound, Azzi’s ball went a little further than expected, and Paige jogged to retrieve it, having been closer as she was getting some water. Azzi watched her and when Paige came back, she passed Azzi the ball without a word.

That was the turning point. Instead of keeping to their separate routines, they began to shoot together. Azzi rebounded for Paige, and Paige did the same for Azzi. They moved around the court, each shot a natural rhythm as they stepped into the pass. The way they moved, the way they passed and shot, was effortless, like they had done this a thousand times before. Neither said a word as they shot, they were just happy to not have to run after their own rebound every two seconds. The ease between them told a story of mutual respect even though it was usually clear they weren’t too fond of each other.

The silence between them stretched on as Paige and Azzi continued to shoot. The rhythm of their movements, the swish of the net, and the soft thud of the ball bouncing were the only sounds filling the gym. They both seemed absorbed in their own thoughts as they passed the ball back and forth.

After some time, Paige’s phone kept buzzing so she glanced at the clock. She had been there longer than she’d planned, and she remembered telling Drew she’d take him to the movies. So she reluctantly made her way to the bench to take off her basketball shoes even though she hadn’t cleared her mind like she hoped. Azzi was still shooting, focused and intent, as if the ball and the hoop were the only things that mattered.

Paige bent down to untie her shoes, glancing up as she did. Azzi missed another shot, and the ball rolled off to the side. Paige grabbed it without thinking, tossing it back to Azzi with a casual flick of her wrist.

As the ball landed back in Azzi’s hands, Paige couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in Azzi’s movements, the way she seemed to favor her left leg a bit. Azzi took a moment before shooting again, but the ball missed again, clanging off the rim and bouncing awkwardly as the girl groaned in frustration.

Paige stood up, grabbing her shoes from the ground as she spoke. “You’re favoring your left side when you shoot now,” she said, her voice calm but observant. “That’s why your shot’s not falling. You gotta trust that your knee will be fine.”

Azzi paused, the ball resting in her hands as she processed the comment. Paige could see the wheels turning in Azzi’s mind, the realization slowly dawning on her. She didn’t reply, but Paige noticed the way she shifted her weight as she took a second shot, more thoughtfully this time as it went through the net.

Paige didn't linger, just headed toward the door. Azzi didn’t say anything more either, lost in her thoughts as she continued to shoot.

November 2020

Azzi had been wrestling with the decision for weeks. The pressure to commit was everywhere, with coaches, family, and even fans weighing in with their opinions. Narrowing her choices to UCLA, Maryland, and UConn had been easy enough—each school had its appeal.

Maryland offered familiarity. The hometown hero story would mean playing in front of her family and friends, building a legacy close to home. UCLA? Well, their facilities were out of this world, and the program was on the rise and it would be nice to be the player who brought them to the top. But UConn... UConn was something else entirely.

The school was synonymous with greatness. Azzi had grown up dreaming of wearing that blue and white jersey, playing under Geno Auriemma, and being part of a dynasty, of being a husky. There was no denying the opportunity to grow under one of the best coaches in basketball history.

But there was a large problem. Paige.

Azzi had only crossed paths with Paige a handful of times during their games, but each interaction had left a bad taste in her mouth. Paige Bueckers was an undeniable talent, but her confidence often read as arrogance. The way Paige carried herself—with that smirk and cocky demeanor—rubbed Azzi the wrong way every time. Could she really spend years as a teammate to someone who seemed so self-absorbed? She couldn’t imagine having to share the court with the girl let alone the ball that she would probably never pass to Azzi.

Azzi turned the thought over and over in her mind day after day, replaying memories of Paige’s antics during games, her posturing, the way the media fawned over her, the way she soaked it in. It was irritating. Still, Azzi decided she couldn’t let one person dictate her future. This was her dream, her opportunity to compete at the highest level, to win championships.

When Azzi made her commitment to UConn public, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The decision was made, and she was ready to face whatever came next—even Paige and all of her bullshit.

A couple of states away in Connecticut, Paige sat scrolling through her phone in the gym when the news broke. A tweet caught her eye, and as she opened it, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

"DMV’s Azzi Fudd, 2021 #1 Recruit Commits to University of Connecticut"

Paige stared at the screen, rereading the headline as if it would change. Her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes bulged in disbelief.

“What the fuck” Paige muttered to herself.

December 2020

During high school winter break Geno organized Azzi to come on a visit to meet the team before her official arrival. The visist had been going smoothly—almost perfectly, in fact. The facilities were incredible, Geno’s warmth and charisma made her feel valued, and the team seemed thrilled to have her there. Everything felt right. Everything except the glaring absence of Paige Bueckers.

It wasn’t like Azzi had come to the visit just to ‘officially’ meet Paige, but it would’ve been nice. Paige was clearly the face of the program now, the freshman star everyone raved about. If they were going to be teammates, Azzi figured they’d at least cross paths before she officially got to campus the upcoming summer. But so far, Paige had been conspicuously absent from all the introductions, the tour, and now the relaxed hangout in the dorm's common area.

The team was great, though. Christyn and Olivia, two of the team’s upperclassmen had gone out of their way to make Azzi feel comfortable, sharing stories about what it was like to play under Geno. Christyn was particularly funny, throwing in sarcastic comments about Olivia’s sometimes over-the-top pregame rituals.

Aaliyah, Nika, Saylor, and Piath—some of the freshmen—were a mix of energy and chaos. Nika’s personality was magnetic; she was constantly cracking jokes and pulling Azzi into the group’s banter. Aaliyah had a quieter, grounded presence, offering up thoughtful questions and laughing at Nika’s antics. Saylor and Piath added their own flair, with Saylor occasionally teasing Nika for her over-the-top expressions and Piath keeping things calm when the group got a little rowdy.

Then there was Aubrey, who was nestled between the older and younger players. She had an easygoing vibe, but there was something quietly sharp about her observations and she didn’t seem to talk much. But as the night wore on, Aubrey began to loosen up a bit and was leaning in to share a few inside jokes about the team dynamics here and there.

“You’ll like it here,” Aubrey said, nudging Azzi with her elbow. “Well, once you get used to all the chaos… and Paige.”

The mention of Paige brought the blonde’s absence into sharper focus. Azzi glanced toward the only closed door in the suite, making her assume it was Paige’s. Azzi had heard what sounded like the same game replaying over and over since she’d been in the suite coming from behind the closed door. She hadn’t thought much of it earlier, but now it felt a little deliberate that she hadn’t come out yet.

Evina noticed Azzi’s glance and sighed. “I’ll go get her,” she said, standing up and walking toward Paige’s door.

Before she could get there and knock, the door swung open. Paige emerged in a whirlwind, a granola bar clamped between her teeth, headphones slung around her neck, her phone in one hand, and her basketball shoes in the other.

“Hey, P,” Evina said, trying to stop her. “Come hang out for a bit. Azzi’s here.”

Paige grunted, barely making eye contact. “Can’t. Played like ass yesterday,” she mumbled around the granola bar before walking past everyone and out of the suite.

Azzi scoffed, unable to hold it in. It was hard not to take it personally. She didn’t know Paige well, but her quick exit felt more like an insult than anything else.

“No, don't take offense,” Evina said, noticing Azzi’s reaction. “Paige is… well, she’s Paige. You’ll get to know her. She’d live in the gym if we let her. Trust me, it’s not about you.”

Aubrey snorted from her spot on the couch. “Yeah I lost a bet and had to drag her out of there twice this week. First time, I turned the lights off. She didn’t even notice, or didn’t care. She just kept shooting until she got tired of me messing with her music and walked out.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And the second time?”

“Had to practically carry her out,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “She gave up eventually, but only because I promised her Nika wouldn’t eat all the protein bars anymore.”

“I don’t eat all of them!” Nika protested loudly, drawing laughter from the group.

Azzi chuckled slightly but her irritation still lingered. Sure, Paige might be obsessive about basketball, but her absence still felt pointed with Azzi knowing the older girl didn’t like her. Azzi decided to ignore it though and as the night wore on, the team’s easy camaraderie pulled her in, and Azzi found herself genuinely liking everyone. Even looking forward to being here in the summer.

But Paige’s absence hung over everything, making it hard for Azzi to fully relax. When it got close to midnight and Paige still hadn’t returned, Nika, Aubrey, and Evina began debating who should go to the gym this time.

“I went twice already!” Aubrey said, throwing her hands up. “I’m not doing it again. I’d rather wrestle Olivia’s big ass for the remote.”

“You didn’t even try last yesterday,” Nika teased. “You just texted her and gave up and I had to go eventually.”

“Yeah, because she’s a weirdo when she’s like this.”

Evina groaned, standing up. “Fine shut up. I’ll go.”

Azzi watched as Evina grabbed her keys and headed out, her frustration bubbling to the surface again.

About thirty minutes later, the door to the suite swung open, and Evina stepped in, followed by a very irritated Paige. Azzi immediately noticed the tension as Paige, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead from sweat, strode in mid-sentence.

“It’s not that big of a fucking deal, E,” Paige muttered, clearly continuing a heated discussion the two had been having on their way back.

“It is a big deal,” Evina shot back, her voice calm but firm. “And you’re going to handle it. Now.”

Paige groaned dramatically, tossing her basketball shoes onto the floor by her room before following Evina inside. The door shut behind them, and for a brief moment, the suite was quiet.

Then came the muffled sounds of what was unmistakably yelling. Azzi wasn’t sure whether Paige or Evina was louder, but she could hear enough to piece together that Evina was getting on Paige about something.

The team, meanwhile, carried on as if this was perfectly normal, as if it was their routine. Aaliyah was fiddling with the remote trying to find a game, Aubrey was scrolling through her phone, and Christyn and Olivia were engaged in a debate over which snack brand had the best pretzels.

Eventually, the noise from Paige’s room stopped, and a few moments later, Evina emerged, her expression relaxed and a victorious smile playing on her lips. “She’ll be out soon,” she announced, as if this was some kind of accomplishment.

True to her word, a while later, Paige reappeared. She had swapped her clothes for a loose hoodie and joggers, her wet hair thrown over her shoulders. She glanced at Azzi, her blue eyes softening slightly.

“Hey,” Paige said, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Sorry for missing most of your visit. Welcome to UConn Azzi.”

Evina, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watched the interaction with a knowing grin, as though she’d personally orchestrated this rare moment of civility.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s shift in demeanor. She nodded, her response clipped but polite. “It’s all good.”

Paige didn’t seem to notice Azzi’s hesitation—or if she did, she didn’t care. She flopped down onto the couch between Nika and Olivia with an exaggerated sigh, stretching her legs out and leaning her head against Nika’s shoulder.

“Welcome back to the land of the living twin,” Nika greeted her, her voice light and teasing.

Paige tilted her head, giving Nika a look that Azzi couldn’t quite decipher. It was like an entire conversation passed between them in a single expression. Nika burst out laughing, shaking her head as she nudged Paige playfully, making the blonde crack a smile as she leaned back on Nika’s shoulder.

The casual interaction threw Azzi off. For someone who’d seemed so intense and standoffish earlier, Paige was now practically melting into Nika. It was… strange.

Nika, Azzi had learned over the course of the evening, was one of the sweetest and most outgoing members of the team, always cracking jokes and making people feel included. On the surface, she and Paige couldn’t have been more different, yet here they were, leaning on each other like lifelong best friends.

Before Azzi could think too much about it, Christyn, who had been munching on a bag of chips, reached into the cabinet and tossed two protein bars at Paige, hitting her square in the chest.

“Eat,” Christyn ordered, her tone casual but firm. Paige barely reacted, opening one of the bars and shoving a piece of it in her mouth without a word.

Azzi couldn’t help but notice the dynamic. It was almost as if it was second nature for everyone to take care of Paige. Dragging her out of the gym, making sure she ate, looking out for her even when she seemed pissy about it.

It was strange to witness but oddly endearing picking up on how much they cared about each other. Azzi still wasn’t sure how Paige fit into the easygoing, tight-knit vibe of the rest of the team, but seeing her now—grumbling about snacks while slouching into Nika’s shoulder—it was clear there was more to her than Azzi had originally thought.

Azzi had planned to be the bigger person today and put all their bad blood to the side. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige had been avoiding her, and it left a sour taste, so she kept her mouth shut.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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hanbinics · 2 days ago

Text

'tis the damn season — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !fem reader genre ⟶ angst, pining. word count ⟶ 4.3k

warnings ⟶ smut, unprotected sex, p in v.

snow blankets the small new england town, turning every road, roof, and branch into a picture-perfect image of the season. it’s the kind of stillness you can only find in winter—the muffled quiet that settles deep in your chest and makes you nostalgic for things you haven’t thought about in years.

you tighten your grip on the handle of your suitcase, gaze locked on the sturniolo household still standing tall before you. it looks the same as it always has with its weathered shutters and the christmas lights strung haphazardly along the gutters. the same inflatable santa bobs in the front yard, defying the frigid wind. it’s all so achingly familiar, and yet you know you’re only paying this much attention to avoid walking up those cement steps and facing the inevitable.

it's a strange feeling being here again, but you don’t have much of a choice. your parents had moved away after you left for college, uprooting the life they’d built here for a quieter one halfway across the country. visiting them for the holidays would have meant burning up the little vacation time you had left from school.

the sturniolos had offered without hesitation. they’d been like a second family to you growing up, and their door was always open. it was a comforting thought—or it would be if it didn’t mean facing the one thing you have to force yourself to stop thinking about.

before you can knock, the door swings open.

matt leans casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. his hair is slightly mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he still looks good. he’d never really had a baby face in his teenage years, but somehow the cut of his jaw seems to get sharper every time you see him, the shadow of stubble decorating his pale skin in a way that nearly has you clenching your thighs. what remains almost always the same, however, are his eyes; bright and steady, holding an unreadable expression that flickers briefly only when landing on you.

“you’re early,” he says, voice low and even.

“you’re predictable,” you counter, lips twitching into a half-smile despite the way your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.

he raises an eyebrow, but you don't miss the subtle twitch of his mouth, like he's trying not to smile back at you. when you think he's going to respond, a light and airy voice cuts in before he can.

“matt? who’s at the door?”

your stomach tightens. you don’t have to see her to know who it is. the cheerful lilt in her voice is unmistakable, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent an embarrassing amount of time looking through photos of her and matt on his mother’s facebook page. try as you might, that whole “forcing yourself to stop thinking about him” thing doesn’t always work.

“i’ll get your bag,” matt says quickly, stepping aside and avoiding your eyes entirely as you step into the painful world of complete nostalgia.

matt’s fiancé, willow, is everything you aren’t. she’s the type of girl that’s effortlessly kind, her smile bright enough to light up a room—forget needing a christmas tree. she reminds you of the kind of girl your mother used to beg for you to be, but she could never quite smooth out your rough edges, much to her dismay. you can’t help but think about how much she would love matt’s soon-to-be-wife, the thought making your gut coil painfully.

willow doesn’t seem to notice. she’s all too warm in the way she greets you, pulling you into a hug like you’d known each other for years.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she breathes into your ear, her enthusiasm genuine. “matt’s told me so much about you.”

“has he?” you question, forcing a smile. but your curiosity is genuine, and you find yourself turning to chris just in time to catch sight of his shit-eating grin.

“you serious? kid couldn’t stop asking about how long you’d be here, when you’d be here. ‘s like havin’ to calm down a kid waitin’ to see santa,” he teases. you know he’s probably exaggerating, especially when matt mutters an obscenity while punching his brother’s shoulder, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body anyway.

in all her perfectness, willow doesn’t seem to think twice about chris’s teasing. a laugh falls from her mouth instead, the pretty girl still beaming as she turns to you and nods.

“he really does talk about you all the time—about growing up here and all the memories you guys share. it’s sweet,” she admits, gaze full of nothing but adoration as her hand finds matt’s once he’s close enough to her, his usually pale cheeks harboring a bit of a pink flush to them now and his smile somewhat uncomfortable.

your heart twists painfully at her words, but your face remains neutral, only mustering up the smallest upturn to the corners of your mouth in response. you’re sure there’s truth to matt talking about you, but it mostly serves to remind you that he’s so curious because outside of these little trips home—which are few and far between—the two of you don’t talk.

you could say it’s because you’re both just so busy, that it’s hard to maintain a friendship with so much distance between the two of you, that your lives are just going in such different directions. but deep down, without a smoke screen and the fear of wearing your heart on your sleeve the way matt always has, you know unanswered texts and missed calls from the boy you’ve always considered to be home has truly driven a wedge—one you feel you can’t dig out anymore.

while matt says nothing about everyone basically speaking for him, you can tell he’s avoiding your gaze entirely, and guilt swirls in your chest even as mary lou and the rest of the sturniolos parade you around the house, showering you with the kind of attention you’ve never been fond of simply because it puts you in the spotlight.

but you let them because you return the love these people have always had for you, a genuine smile resting on your mouth when mary lou finally ushers you to the couch with a warm cup of hot chocolate tucked between your icy hands.

“sweetheart, it’s been too long!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “how’s life treating you? are you eating enough? you’re staying through new year’s, right?” she asks, kind eyes expectant. you can’t help but laugh softly at her string of questions.

“just through christmas,” you correct her, but the words feel hollow in your mouth and guilt comes with the delivery. it never fails to feel as though you’re running every time these trips come to an end.

“you should stay longer,” the older woman immediately responds, undeterred. “it’s not the holidays without you here.”

you breathe out an awkward laugh at that, the rest of the family beginning to chime in about the fact that you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you want, memories of past holidays soon being brought up. it’s all nice, and it makes you feel all the warm fuzzies that you don’t normally allow for yourself, but it doesn’t change your mind.

staying here any longer is dangerous, and you know it. for as long as you can remember, you’d ached to get out of here. growing up in a small town, surrounded by the same people and the same days, drove you absolutely crazy. you’d had big dreams from a young age, and you knew you’d do nothing about them if you stayed here.

as the family chatters around you, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. you don’t have to look at him to know it’s matt, but you do anyway. he’s leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. he hasn’t said much since you’d arrived, but then, he’s never been all that talkative. your mouth twitches at the corners, a soft, almost sad smile threatening your visage. you think he might return the sentiment, but you watch with disappointment as he pushes himself from the granite countertop supporting his rigid spine.

“you know where the guest room is,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the chatter.

all you can do is nod as you watch him disappear, your timid smile now disappearing all together, nothing but a quiet “thanks” falling from your lips that he doesn’t acknowledge.

the first night back was always the hardest. the familiarity of everything—the creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater kicking on—is both comforting and suffocating. it should be of no surprise to you when you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night in need of a distraction, but you quietly curse yourself anyway as you pad down the creaky stairs as carefully as you can.

when you turn the corner, you’re surprised to find matt already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as the soft refrigerator light pours over the otherwise dark room. you’re silent for a moment as you stand in the open frame, arms crossed over your chest while you just watch him, relishing in the fact that he’s not staring at you with those longing blue eyes—the ones that seem to be constantly trying to figure you out while simultaneously reading you like a book.

after another few seconds, you finally build enough courage to speak. “couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

when the brunette turns, he doesn’t seem all that surprised that it’s you standing there, but you suppose it isn’t odd. you’d know the sound of his voice anywhere, and apparently it’s the same for him. still, it doesn’t calm the rapid pace of your heart inside your chest when he looks at you.

“usually up around this time anyway,” he admits with a shake of his head. you watch as he reaches for another glass from the cupboard, and then sets it next to his before filling them with water. “willow isn’t great at sharing the bed.” a roll of his eyes accompanies the confession, but you don’t miss the fondness to his voice, and though you laugh quietly in response, it comes out painfully forced.

“you’re, um... you’re really happy, huh?” you find yourself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes. matt’s gaze flickers from you to the glass of water his fingers occupy the rim of before finally answering, “yeah. willow’s... she’s great.”

the words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on both of you. you nod, forcing a smile. “she is.”

there’s another few seconds of awkward, tense silence, the only sound heard being the contact of glass against granite as matt slides one of the cups towards you carefully until you can reach it for yourself. you offer a polite smile as you step closer to him, fingers wrapping around the coolness of the glass. you want the uncomfortable weight settling around the two of you to go away, but you don’t know how.

finally, the brunette clears his throat. “you leaving after christmas?” he asks, his voice steady but quiet. you figure it’s just a way to change the subject, but your gaze narrows slightly with curiosity as you look at him, nodding your head once.

“that’s the plan,” you admit, though it feels sour on your tongue.

you watch as he nods, his jaw tightening. “figures.”

your fingers tighten around the glass, eyebrows furrowing. the only light coming through the kitchen window casts shadows across his face, making him look a bit older, more tired.

“matt...”

he shakes his head, cutting you off. “don’t. it’s fine.”

you want to tell him that it’s not, that you’re sorry, but you can’t get a word in when a humorless chuckle leaves his mouth, and he begins to shake his head slowly now.

“’m used to you runnin’. it’s been radio silence for years.”

this time it’s you who laughs, lacking the same humor he couldn’t muster seconds ago. “what am i supposed to say to you, matt? ‘congratulations on your engagement?’ ‘happy holidays?’ ‘thanks for letting me crash here while i pretend everything’s fine?’” you ask incredulously, watching as his own gaze hardens.

with his jaw tight, matt sets his glass down on the counter with a little too much force behind it. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“don’t i?” you shoot back, the words sharper than you intended.

the air is thick with tension between you, crackling with electricity. it’s almost suffocating as the brunette steps closer, his gaze locked on yours and his large hands anchoring themselves on the granite countertop on either side of you, caging you in. your breath hitches in your throat, and you can only hope that he can’t hear the ridiculous pounding of your heart inside your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line as you look up at him with curious—yet knowing—eyes.

“this was a lot easier when you weren’t here,” he finally says, his voice low and strained as he studies you.

you swallow hard, knowing you shouldn’t answer him nor entertain this pull between the two of you, but you feel like you’re being tossed out at sea where it’s inevitable to crash into the ocean rocks.

“i know,” you finally answer quietly, but your voice betrays you, shaking ever so slightly, and you know it’s all he needs.

for a moment, neither of you move. then, like magnets, you find yourselves drawn together, his mouth inching closer to yours while you press up on the tips of your toes to meet him there, until finally, you’re kissing him.

it’s heated once the two of you actually connect, matt’s strong hands finding your waist immediately. he uses the grip to pull you against him as if he can keep you there, tethered to this moment despite the truth lying just beneath the surface. you tangle your fingers in his hair, tongue greedy and imploring as years of unspoken feelings spill out in every touch, every breath shared.

as the kiss grows hungrier, sloppier, both of you pouring everything into it—love, anger, regret—his hands roam your back before sliding under the hem of your sweatshirt, his touch searing against your skin.

“tell me to stop,” the brunette breathes into your mouth, his voice breaking. it sends a pang of guilt through your abdomen, but you don’t listen to him. instead, you pull him closer, your hands clutching at his hoodie as though letting go would shatter you completely.

as if frustrated by the fact that you’re letting this happen, matt presses your spine into the counter behind you, his hands sliding from beneath your sweatshirt down to the backs of your thighs where he digs his fingers into your skin for a better grip and lifts you onto the counter, his desperate mouth never leaving yours. the kitchen is freezing, but your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat and frustration between the two of you melting away every last thread of restraint.

clothes fall away in a blur, your breaths mingling in the cold air as his hands explore every inch of you, like he’s trying to memorize what he can never have again—what he knows will be gone soon. you’re still trying to adjust to every sense being so overwhelmed with matt’s presence that you hardly notice the fact that he’s already working on dragging your panties down your thighs, your hips and legs thrashing around on autopilot to help him out.

when his fingers make contact with your sopping pussy, your head almost immediately falls back, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. “fuck, matt. need you so bad,” you admit to him, the groan that leaves his throat causing your pussy to throb with desperation, walls fluttering when the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit.

he plays with you for a few seconds, giving into the way your hips buck forward in search of more friction, more attention, but eventually the brunette must decide enough is enough. you watch as he takes his hand from between your glistening inner thighs in favor of pushing his sweats down from their place on his hips, the fabric of his boxers following suit. you’re almost amazed at the sight of him already so hard for you, but you can’t say you’re surprised. being in matt’s vicinity is enough to fill you with the need to ease some of the tension between your legs, so you can understand how the dam of years’ worth of need for one another finally breaking could get him to this point so quickly.

after stroking himself a few times, you watch with hungry eyes as matt pulls you to the edge of the counter, a whine escaping your lips when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your clit. you can tell by the subtle smirk on his mouth that he knows how badly you want it, but you’re too eager to care that he can see right through you in the moment.

“matt,” you say again, his name falling from your mouth this time as a warning not to tease, but he cuts you off with a quick, hungry kiss to your mouth before parting once more.

“say it again.”

you blink at him, breathing heavily as your brow furrows in confusion. “what?” you breathe out.

“that you need me—say it again,” he elaborates, and while sirens immediately go off in your head, your heart aching at the desperate gleam in his pretty blue eyes, you find yourself swallowing thickly before nodding slightly.

“i...” you trail off, watching his eager expression carefully, knowing you shouldn’t.

but you’re selfish.

“i do. i need you, matt.”

you don’t have time to feel guilty. your mind goes completely blank when he finally pushes into you, it not being gentle, but not completely careless either. it’s everything—raw and frantic, but deeply, heartbreakingly intimate. you cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

it doesn’t feel like just sex, but a confession. a plea. a goodbye.

as if reading your mind, matt’s voice breaks through the haze of your chaotic mind. “why do you always leave?” he asks, his voice rough and barely audible as he moves inside of you.

tears sting your eyes, but you don’t answer. you can’t. instead, you pull his face from your neck and kiss him, swallowing the words you can’t bring yourself to say.

i have to.

if i stay, it’ll ruin you.

it’ll ruin me.

when he finally pulls away from your mouth, you bite down on your lower lip to stifle a cry as he fucks into you deeper, his movements desperate, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with his body since words are failing him at the moment. you can feel in his movements that he blames himself for this, and it breaks your heart. you don’t understand how he can believe this has to do with anything other than the fact that you’re entirely a coward. that allowing yourself to feel what you feel for him scares you. that it could make you stay.

“i hate this,” matt whispers to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i know,” you choke out, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i do too.”

his rhythm slows with the moment, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you softly now, the intensity giving way to something tender, almost reverent. it’s like he’s trying to say everything he never had the courage to despite knowing it’s too late—that nothing could have changed the outcome of this.

and then, with the realization, his hips are moving again, picking up in pace, and your head feels fuzzy. he’s fucking you like he hates you—like he loves you—and your heart clenches in your chest at the same time that the walls of your pussy begin to flutter around his relentless cock.

“matt, oh my god—i’m coming!” you cry out to him, one hand digging into the middle of his spine while the other cradles the back of his sweaty head, pressing his face further into the crook of your neck where his hot, labored breath hitches against your damp skin.

each slow, deliberate movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it's the intimacy of it—the way he holds you as though you might vanish—that makes it almost unbearable.

you come with a string of cries, some jumbled and indecipherable, and some of his name, your body jerking with the ripples of your orgasm that he works you through with his fingers against your puffy clit. your nails rake across his back as you listen to him murmur your name like it's the only word he knows, his breath hitching as he buries himself deeper inside of you. his previously perfect movements falter with his orgasm, fingers tightening on your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away as soon as the moment is gone.

he doesn’t move when it’s over, instead pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut while soft shutters wrack his body. you can feel just how tense every muscle is, his hands clinging to you with a desperation that mirrors the one buried in the depths of your being. but it's still not enough. it still doesn't change anything.

“you’re still leaving,” he says after a long silence, his voice breaking. your lower lip trembles, and you’re glad he can’t see you just yet.

“i have to.” you nod, your fingers brushing through his short hair.

you watch as matt pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dull and glassy. “you’re gonna ruin me,” he breathes out, his voice cracking at the end. “y’know that, right?”

again, you nod, your chest tightening painfully.

you don't have the heart to tell him you already have.

morning light streams through the window, golden and soft, but it only makes the heaviness in your chest worse. your bag sits by the door, packed hastily in the early hours of dawn while the house was still quiet, the weight of everything practically crushing you.

matt hadn’t spoken to you after last night. you hadn’t expected him to. after sneaking back upstairs, the realization had hit you like a tidal wave: nothing had changed. what you and the brunette shared in the kitchen—desperate kisses, the raw and aching connection, the unspoken words in every touch—hadn’t erased the fact that he’s engaged, and you don’t belong here anymore.

when you finally build the courage to head downstairs, nobody is awake, and you’re grateful. and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly cowardly it is, but running without the offer of closure has always been the more appealing option for you. it leaves no room for confrontation and hurt, or at least none that you have to face until you’re all alone again with regret and hatred swirling deep within your aching core.

you’re already thinking of what you’re going to say later when you inevitably receive a few confused and probably hurt messages about the fact that you’re leaving unannounced when matt finds you by the front door. the same hoodie he wore last night hangs loose around him, his face unreadable, though his eyes carry the storm you’ve come to know too well.

“leaving already?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

you inhale shakily, but nod, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. “yeah. figured it was time.” figured it was easier like this, is what you don’t say, but you don’t have to. he knows. and you know he hates you for it.

you watch as he steps closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. there’s a pause, and then, “last night—”

“don’t,” you cut him off softly, shaking your head. “please, just... don’t make this harder than it already is.” your voice is quiet, and it breaks at the end, but otherwise your expression remains neutral.

the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you refuse to say. the words press against the back of your throat, tears threatening the corners of your eyes, but you know better than to ever let any of it escape. words won’t fix this. they won’t undo the lines that have already been crossed or change the fact that you’re leaving. again.

“i mean it, you know,” matt says suddenly, his voice breaking, “that you’re taking a piece of me with you. that you’re ruining me.”

your eyes burn, but somehow you force a wavering smile. you want to tell him that you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind, but you don’t.

“isn’t that the way it’s always been?”

he doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says enough. his jaw is tight and his fingers twitch inside his pockets, flexing and unflexing. he hates you.

but his chest heaves, quickening with the beat of his aching heart, and his eyes are shiny with emotion you always seem to elicit. he loves you.

as you step outside, the cold air bites at your skin, but it feels like a relief compared to the suffocating weight of the house, of what waits inside for you. every day. every year. you don’t look back, but mostly because you can’t.

as you drive away, the road stretches out before you, empty and endless, but your heart stays behind—a piece of it, anyway. a piece you know you’ll never get back.

you’ll come back to this town some day—maybe next christmas or the one after that. but you know it won’t matter. the hurt will still be there, lingering like the ghost of what could have been.

matt, however, you know you’ve lost. and you can’t help the shaky smile on your lips as you leave yet again because you absolutely deserve it.

©hanbinics

divider credit; @issysh3ll.

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo one shot

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ghostybaby000 · 1 day ago

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Gone | Part 4

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+, fighting, cursing, general violence, symptoms of panic, fluff, blood

Part one above!

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygato @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard @identity2212 @daydreamerwoah

John angles his head to look at Ghost, his trance fixated on the car window where you laid. Ghost clenched his side slightly harder as he looked to John and spoke, his voice gruff.

‘It was James.’

John lets out an angered huff as he looks to the ground shaking his head in disapproval before continuing,

‘He really did all of this,’ He motions to the back of the car where you still laid quietly recovering. ‘Just to prove himself, what- wrong?’ John wipes his hand down his face as he looks to Ghost with questions.

Ghost thinks back to when him and James practiced together and trained by each other’s sides, going through combat maneuvers and different tactics when entering a building. It all ended when he was assigned to an infiltration in James’ home town. Civilian lives were lost and James had promised that Ghost would pay for not doing enough. James was dismissed for being violent towards others outside of training, in most instances targeting Ghost.

Ghost shrugs as grabs the bear from on top of the car, the dirt and dried blood bringing it straight out of a horror film. He looks to John and back into the almost empty lot, his own car was a good walk away.

‘Follow me back to mine, and ill get her in.’ Johns face cooled as he registered what Ghost had said. He gave him a once over and decided that he would be fine getting back, and had been in far worse shape after a long night.

‘Right, I’ll follow you out.’

Without another word they separated and made it into their cars, Ghost driving the entire way in a silence that was only filled by his thoughts. He drove with one hand on his side, the other firmly gripping the wheel as he recalled the end of his night.

Neither of the other two men were moving, his attention entirely focused on the man walking circles around him, on the brink of the shadow. The man stopped Infront of him, as he chuckled.

‘Oh c’mon you remember me, don’t you Riley?’ The red from Ghosts eyes began to be replaced with a curious rage instead of a violent one. Ghost hadn’t heard that voice in years, over a decade if he had to guess. He remained silent as James spoke.

‘Right, always the silent one…You did seem quiet when it came to answering questions when you got back.’ The man pulled a gun from behind his belt and looked it over in the light, moving from hand to hand feeling the weight.

‘You know, I hate to of done all of this just to get your attention, but I really do hold a grudge. I’m sure you would too if a comrade had let some of your closest-‘ The next moments were a blend of fists flying and grunts as Ghost ran to and slammed James into the wall behind him, his gun disappearing in the midst of the fight. The two men rolled around fighting until James broke off and backed away from Ghost, one hand out stretched before him, trying to keep him at bay.

He wiped his lip across his forearm and laughed as Ghost stared him down like a wild animal defending its territory.

‘So- that is what get’s you to break huh? That little toy you were dragging around?’ Ghost made another step towards the man as he backed away, ending in them circling one another.

‘How- How do you think that compares? I was kind enough to not even kill her- but you let my friends die!’ The man looked down in an exhausted motion, shaking his head is if he were remembering. Ghost spared no time in lunging at the man, but right before he had made it to him, the man bent down.

James quickly grabbed the blade from one of the earlier fights and swung up, into a tackling Ghosts side. Ghost didn’t stop as the blade entered but grabbed the man and sent him to the ground.

As the man went down the blade was pulled from his side, earning a yell of anger from Ghost as he climbed on top of the man, and disarmed him. The man fought to claw at Ghosts face or to use his legs in order to escape but it was little use. Ghosts hands wrapped around the mans throat as he strangled him, ignoring the blood coming from his side or the indents in his flesh from where he had been clawed at, James was well out of practice.

It wasn’t until James had stopped moving that Ghost thought of you. He wouldn’t waste a second longer on this man when he didn’t know what condition you were in. Standing his hand slams into his side, the pain seeping into his vision as he tried to hold his pressure. Looking down he sees the gun gleaming in the light, and instead gives a final blow to James’ head with his boot-it didn’t feel right to kill him.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts as he pulled into the drive way of his home, Looking in his rearview he sees Johns car turning on to the road behind him. They both park and get out of the car, Ghost pulling out his keys to open the front door, his pain starting to spread into his back and entire upper body. He fits the key into the door and opens it, turning around to see John getting out of his car. John gets out and gently takes you from the back seat, turning around and walking a few paces to meet Ghost in the middle.

Ghosts hands leave his side to take you, as he and John look down to see them stained in blood, both dried and fresh. Without a word John moves past Ghost and into the house, where he paid no attention to detail. He simply moved inside and placed you down on the nearest couch, and made his way back out of the house, where Ghost was waiting in the door frame. He moved to the side as John swept by him he paused and looked to him,

‘You two gonna be alright?’ His eyes stared into Ghosts as he looked down and at each hand before responding. ‘We’ll be fine’ John gave a nod as he headed to his car, opening the door Ghost called out to him,

‘John.’ He waited until he turned around once more to face him.

‘Thank you.’ His head made a backwards tilt the couch inside where you laid. John sealed his lips for a moment before speaking.

“I’ll have someone over there to take care of things.’ With that he sat down into his car, started the engine and made his way out of the neighborhood.

Ghost stood there for a moment longer, and then made his way back out to his car, and back inside where he sat on the edge of the couch being sure to not disturb you. He grabbed a throw from the back of the couch, laid it over you and went to the bathroom to clean up.

Once out of the shower he came out to see you unmoved, and tucked the now clean bear in between your arm and chest. He sighed as his fingers ran over the bandage going around his abdomen before standing and then settling into the other section of the couch to sleep-making sure you were in his sight all night.

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thatpieceoftrash · 2 days ago

Text

Never a frown

Malleus x reader

WC: 898

In which Malleus has doubts, and you help him get rid of them.

It’s quiet as you two work on your respective tasks. Malleus makes quick work of the stone meant for sculpting the gargoyle he’d talked about last night. You, on the other hand are busy studying an ancient looking tome meant to help you understand the origins of gargoyles, but you aren’t really paying attention to the words on paper, after all you can’t really concentrate when outside a storm seems to pick up.

Someone’s upset and you know exactly who.

“Is something upsetting you?” You spoke, finally cutting through the silence.

“Hm? Oh, no, everything is alright, dear” Malleus assured you, however you picked up the slight tremor in his voice, and you could make a pretty good guess he’s probably pouting right now.

“Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know that.” And you finally turned his way and gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He sighed, but stopped sculpting and just looked at his hands, not meeting your gaze.

“So there is something, must be pretty upsetting if this storm is anything to go by.” You continued, and at this, he looked out the window and his eyes widened a little.

“It seems I let my emotions get the better of me again, Lilia will no doubt lecture me for it” your dragon lamented.

Whatever happened really got him down, you thought to yourself as you got up from your seat and stood in front of him, taking his cold hands in yours. He looked up at you, and the sadness in those emerald eyes of his broke a bit of your heart.

“Lilia isn’t here right now, I am. Please tell me what’s bothering you.” You pleaded with him.

The silence stretched on for a few moments, but at last he started. “This morning while I was on my way to class, I overheard some students talking among each other, normally I don't pay attention to meaningless chatter, however they said something about you, and as ashamed I am to admit it, I stopped to listen.” Malleus went on, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Did they insult me? You know I don’t care if-“ you began, but he stopped you, holding your hands just a bit tighter.

“No, if they did I would’ve simply struck them down”, he muttered, “ they said it’s impossible to understand why you’re still in the Gargoyle Study Club, because it’s completely boring and nonsensical, and that you’re only here because I forced you to be.” He finally finished his explanation and he somehow became even more downbeat than before.

Now, you took pride in your ability to sympathise with others and help them overcome their obstacles, and your Tsunotaro was no exception to this, of course, you’d do anything for his happiness.

With all that being said, you’re desperately trying not to laugh ‘ all this because someone said gargoyles are boring’ which in all fairness, they weren’t the most interesting subject, but Malleus spoke of them with such love and passion, you found yourself admiring the gothic creations as well.

Try as you might, you couldn’t suppress a giggle from coming out, much to the dismay of your very lovely, and very dramatic fae.

“Do you find amusement in my misery?” He all but demanded, and you tried your hardest to put on a serious face.

“Tsunotaro, do you truly think I would be here if I found it boring? If I didn’t enjoy it?” And you weren’t lying, you appreciated the chance to learn more about this strange world’s history, even if it was in the form of gargoyle evolution.

“Do you not feel obligated to be here because of me?” He whispered, and you were quick to shake your head.

“I joined this club because I found this topic intriguing and something completely new to me. You being a part of it was just a bonus, a very big one, but nonetheless I didn’t choose this just to be with you” okay, that was a small part of the reason, but he didn’t need to know that, unless you want a tornado in the school yard

“Truly?” There was just the smallest glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes as he asked, and you couldn't have that.

“Truly, Tsunotaro.” At your confirmation, he beamed and all traces of the storm passed, revealing a pleasant sunset in its wake.

“You always know what to say to put me at ease, my dear. Are you sure you lack any magic?” He praised, with such a serene smile, it made him seem even more ethereal than he already was.

“Nope, not a bit of it, just my love for you, even with all your dramatic antics.” And you let out a small laugh, relieved he wasn’t sulking anymore, which was further proved when he started laughing alongside you.

“I love you too, my beloved child of man” and with a small kiss to your forehead, he went right back to sculpting, and you back to that ridiculously long chapter about the history of lion gargoyles, yet this time, you chose to abandon the small library desk, and instead sit next to your adorable dragon, content to just to be to him, no matter what you were doing, and you had a feeling he felt the same.

#malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland #malleus is dramatic #fluff #hurt/comfort

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tinytinyblogs · 2 days ago

Note

Can you write something for yandere!skz where they are the reader best friend and they find her going on a date or texting / hanging with another guy? They love her romantically, it's just they're not dating because you know ... friendzone lol

You Don't Need Anyone Else But Me

They wouldn't allow you to think of them as just a friend or let anyone else have you.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

💬 I’m posting this a bit late, and realizing it’s the last story I’ll share in 2024, I just want to say thank you once again for all the requests and feedback—your support means so much!

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan noticed you texting someone else, and though his expression remained calm, a storm was brewing behind his composed demeanor. He didn’t say anything at first, simply watching out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. Every time he saw you typing away with a soft smile or noticed the screen lighting up with another notification, his chest tightened. He kept his distance, but inside, his mind was racing. At first, he convinced himself it wasn’t worth reacting to. You had your own life, your own friends, and he didn’t want to seem possessive—at least not openly. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to look over your shoulder when he thought you weren’t paying attention or find a reason to glance at your phone when you set it down. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he found a way to monitor your texts without you noticing. Each message he read felt like a dagger to his chest. The casual words, the emojis, the tone—he hated all of it. His fingers curled tightly around his own phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. More than once, he had to stop himself from smashing it out of sheer frustration.

After days of silent agony, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your messages, he leaned over casually, his tone light and conversational. “Who’s that?” he asked, keeping his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. You glanced up briefly, not thinking much of the question. “Just a friend,” you replied with a small shrug before returning your attention to the screen. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he nodded. “Just a friend, huh?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Even if that was the truth, the idea of you giving anyone else your time, your attention, made his blood boil. For a moment, he just sat there, watching you text, his jaw tightening. The room felt heavier, the air more charged. Finally, his voice broke the silence again, low and calm but carrying an unsettling weight. “So... what are we?” You paused, looking up at him in confusion. “Friends,” you said simply, offering another nonchalant shrug before returning to your phone. That was the final straw.

The second you glanced back at the screen, he moved. In one swift motion, he snatched the phone from your hands and hurled it across the room. The sharp sound of it colliding with the wall echoed, followed by the unmistakable crunch of plastic and glass shattering. You stared in stunned silence as the remnants of your phone clattered to the floor. When you looked back at him, his expression had shifted entirely. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding intensity. “Wrong answer, darling,” he said, his voice low and dripping with menace. There was a dangerous edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours, daring you to look away. He leaned in slightly, his lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile. “Try again,” he demanded, his voice soft but laced with a threat. “What are we?” The room was utterly silent, the weight of his presence pressing down on you as you struggled to find your voice. The person standing before you was no longer the kind, reassuring Chan you thought you knew—this was someone who would do anything to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

Minho

Minho’s sharp eyes flicker to your phone as you type away, completely engrossed in your conversation. The soft smile playing on your lips as you stare at the screen makes his chest tighten, though he doesn’t let it show. He remains composed, calm, and collected, his expression betraying nothing. Silently, he observes, pretending not to care. You don’t even notice the way his sharp gaze traces every movement, catching the name and bits of the chat whenever the screen lights up. For Minho, life is meant to be orderly, controlled, and simple. He doesn’t like unnecessary complications or disruptions, and right now, this person you’re texting is an unwelcome disturbance. It’s not jealousy—at least, not in the way most people would understand it. To him, it’s about maintaining balance and control. A smile flickers on his lips, but it isn’t a warm or reassuring smile. It’s calculated, knowing. You think he’ll just let it go, that he’ll sit idly by while you let someone else occupy your attention? That’s cute. But Minho doesn’t tolerate things—or people—that threaten the order of his carefully constructed world. And in that world, you belong to him. He lets you enjoy your little conversation for now, even playing along with your obliviousness.

He pretends not to notice as you giggle softly at the messages, but in his mind, he’s already made his decision. He’ll deal with it, efficiently and thoroughly. He’s not the type to create unnecessary drama, but when the time comes, he knows exactly how to make sure this “friendship” of yours is dealt with. The next day, your texting buddy gets an unexpected visitor. Minho arrives at their door, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. The slight curve of his lips might be mistaken for friendliness at first glance, but there’s something off about it, something chilling. His voice is calm, polite even, as he speaks to them, but there’s an unspoken warning in every word. The intensity in his gaze leaves no room for misunderstanding. By the time Minho leaves, the person knows better than to contact you again. Whatever charm or quiet menace he uses to mask his darker intentions, it’s devastatingly effective. Meanwhile, you remain oblivious, sitting with your phone later that evening, confused. The texts have stopped. No replies, no notifications. You’re left staring at the empty screen, wondering what went wrong. That’s when Minho makes his move. He doesn’t say a word at first, just silently watching as you frown at your phone. Then, like a shadow, he steps behind you, his presence looming but quiet. When you finally turn around, startled by the intensity of his closeness, he traps you in place.

His arms cage you against the nearest surface, leaving no room for escape. His face is close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath. His dark eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. His slight smirk sends a chill down your spine, a perfect balance of amusement and something much darker. “He’s not worth waiting for,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and steady. The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, sending a shiver through you. “Why can’t you see that I’m always here for you?” There’s a softness in his tone, but it’s deceptive. Beneath the surface, there’s an unyielding finality, a truth that you can’t ignore. The way he looks at you, as if you’re the only thing in his world, is overwhelming. You try to process his words, but the sheer force of his presence makes it hard to think straight. His closeness, the intensity of his gaze—it’s all too much. Minho tilts his head slightly, studying your expression with quiet amusement. “You don’t need anyone else,” he continues, his voice soft yet firm. “I’ll take care of everything, so you don’t have to.” The tension in the air is suffocating, the unspoken truth in his words impossible to ignore. There’s no escape from him—not that he would let you go anyway. To him, you’re the center of his carefully constructed world, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

Changbin

Changbin’s behavior has taken a noticeable turn lately. At first, it was subtle—him sitting closer than usual, always leaning in to hear your thoughts or opinions, and laughing as he playfully took your phone out of your hands. It seemed harmless at first, just him being his usual teasing self. But over time, the teasing became more frequent, and his hold on your attention grew tighter. He’s constantly hovering now, his presence impossible to ignore. Every notification from your phone earns a sharp glance from him, his eyes darting to the screen before you can even react. You notice the way his body tenses slightly at the sound, his jaw tightening before he schools his features back into a grin. “Who is it?” he’d ask casually, though his tone always carries a subtle edge. If you hesitate to answer, he doesn’t push too hard, but you can feel the weight of his stare. More often than not, he’ll find a way to redirect your focus back to him, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes your phone, tossing it onto the couch or placing it somewhere out of reach. “You don’t need that right now,” he’d say with a laugh. “I’m way more fun, aren’t I?”

Sometimes, you catch him staring—not at you, but at your phone—with an expression you can’t quite read. It’s not jealousy, not entirely, but something more possessive, more calculating. His demeanor shifts whenever a message comes in, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes it off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. What you don’t know is that Changbin has been working behind the scenes, his determination taking him down a path you wouldn’t have imagined. Step by step, he’s piecing together information about the person you’ve been texting. A quick glance at your screen here, a casual question there—it’s all he needs to get their number. When he finally gets it, it feels like a small victory, the first step in his carefully crafted plan. He doesn’t waste time. Behind your back, he initiates contact, his tone friendly but firm as he makes his intentions clear to this person. The conversations are short, but Changbin’s words have an impact. Slowly but surely, your messages from this person become less frequent, their replies shorter and more distant until, eventually, they stop altogether. You notice the change, confused by the sudden silence from someone you used to talk to so often.

“Weird,” you mutter to yourself, but Changbin only smiles, his expression smug yet unreadable. To him, this is a victory—a testament to his persistence and the lengths he’s willing to go to for you. “Why? You no longer texting anyone?” he asks one day, his voice light but laced with satisfaction. He steps closer, his fingers reaching out to gently tilt your chin so you’re looking directly at him. “I told you they don’t know you as well as I do.” There’s something both comforting and unsettling in his gaze, the way his dark eyes seem to see right through you. His thumb brushes against your cheek in a gesture so tender it sends shivers down your spine. “And for me,” he continues, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone, “I care for you the most. More than I probably should.” His words linger in the air, heavy with meaning, as his hand caresses your cheek with a touch so gentle it’s almost disarming. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when his gaze is so intense, so unwavering. The weight of his presence feels suffocating, yet there’s an undeniable pull, as though his world is the only place you should be. Changbin isn’t just pulling you closer physically—he’s drawing you into his world, a place where he’s the only one who truly understands and cares for you.

Hyunjin

Everything spiraled when Hyunjin discovered you were texting someone else. At first, it was disbelief—a quiet, unsettling pang in his chest that grew heavier with each passing second. But the true blow came when he realized you didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. His carefully constructed fantasy of you and him felt like it was falling apart. Hyunjin wasn’t one to let it end there. His mind raced, desperately piecing together a way to reclaim what he believed was his. He couldn’t accept this reality, so he decided to bend it to his will. Each step was carefully calculated, his determination unwavering. Getting rid of that person you were texting wasn’t just an idea—it became his mission. He didn’t rely on obvious tactics like scaring them away; no, that would’ve been too crude. Instead, he crafted a more subtle, insidious plan, weaving a web of lies designed to trap you. Hyunjin’s natural charisma made it easy to spread rumors. Fabricated stories about this person’s character found their way to your ears, whispered through mutual acquaintances and amplified by the people around you. He planted seeds of doubt, ensuring that even your friends began to echo his concerns.

The world started to feel unsafe, untrustworthy—except for him. When you finally asked him about what you’d heard, his response was heartbreakingly vulnerable. His soft eyes brimmed with concern, his voice trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I don’t want you to get hurt by the wrong person,” he whispered, his tone so genuine it was impossible to ignore. “They’re not good for you. Please, believe me.” Hyunjin was a master manipulator, wielding his vulnerability like a weapon. He knew exactly how to guilt-trip you, how to make you question your own instincts. His innocent façade was so convincing that even you, who thought you knew him well, couldn’t see through it. Over time, the person you were texting began to pull away. Their messages grew infrequent, distant, until one day, they stopped entirely. You didn’t understand why—until you began to notice how others talked about them. The judgment in their voices mirrored everything Hyunjin had warned you about, reinforcing his narrative. Confused and hurt, you turned to Hyunjin for comfort. “I warned you,” he murmured, his hands gentle as they reached for yours. “I just want to protect you.” His words felt like a balm, his gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and quiet triumph.

Little by little, you started to rely on him more. The walls he built around you didn’t feel like a trap—they felt like a safe haven. His presence was comforting, his attention all-encompassing. And just as he’d planned, you began to see him differently—not just as a friend, but as something more. “Promise me,” he whispered one evening, his voice low and filled with quiet desperation. “Promise you’ll always be here for me.” His eyes searched yours, and without hesitation, you nodded, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “I promise.” That was all he needed. Hyunjin’s lips curved into a soft smile, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he said, his voice soothing, almost hypnotic. “Because I’ll always be here for you, too. I’ll protect you from everything—even yourself, if I have to.” You didn’t realize it then, but you’d walked straight into his trap. The doubts, the rumors, the guilt—it had all been part of his carefully laid plan to bring you closer to him. Now, with you by his side, Hyunjin made it his mission to ensure you’d never leave. He didn’t just want you to love him—he wanted you to believe you couldn’t exist without him. To him, this was how it was always meant to be.

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4only1 · 2 days ago

Note

Gotae smut after him being away for a long time

Make Me Go

Gitae Kim x Reader *NSFW* Word count:1169 *nice* Warnings: Smut Masterlist ------------------------

Blankly flipping through channels, you found yourself spacing out, not paying attention to what the TV was playing. It had been over a month since you last saw Gitae, who was away on some cartel business. You didn’t exactly know what to expect during his month-long venture, certainly at least one phone call.

But no, not even a simple hello text. You suppose it was to be expected, afterall, Gitae didn’t scream great communication skills, no matter your relationship. What even was your relationship? You had been seeing him for months now, but had never put a label on it.

You still never labelled it, even after you moved into his luxurious apartment and had locals know you by names like “Gitae’s girl”. It upset you a bit, you wanted to call it something other than just seeing each other. So here you sat, over a month since you last saw him, on his couch, in his apartment, wearing his shirt. You felt a bit pathetic.

Pathetic for clinging onto something that he clearly didn’t view the same way you did. If he did, he would have called or texted.

And if you paid attention, you would have realized that the door had opened, that instead of wasting time taking his shoes off at the door, he looked for you. If you paid attention, you wouldn’t have been so shocked when his arms wrapped around you, holding you so tight, you couldn’t breathe.

“Wha- Gitae!? You’re back?” You phrased every word like it was a question. Unsure if what you were seeing was true.

As he pulled away, he stared at you, rare emotions swirling in his eyes.

“I just got back.”

You took in his appearance, noting a slight shake in his breathing, almost as if he rushed to get here. No, that isn’t the case. But the more you look at him, the more you can’t deny, his unkempt hair, shoes still on, did he really rush to see you?

“You came straight here? Why?”

It was more of a question for yourself. Why did he bother coming back here first? Normally, he would have headed to the cartel hideout first before returning home. But those trips were never a month long.

That is what changed it this time. Gitae knew that when he went away for a few days, he would see you soon after. Why should he rush back? This time however, it was a month away from you. Neither you nor he would have realised how much he would miss you. So much so, that when he returned, you were his first stop.

His lips pressed against your neck as he moved to face you. His shoes were now kicked off and you found yourself laying down on the couch, Gitae hovering over you.

Between kisses pressed against your jaw and neck, Gitae's deep voice radiated through you. The vibrations sent a tingle down your spine, one you hadn't felt in a while.

“I missed you”

His lips moved, capturing yours. He moved his lips rough against yours, but there was still a gentleness there. More like a longing or passion.

His hands moved lower, grabbing onto your shorts, slowly pulling them down. You didn't stop him. In fact, you wanted this to go farther.

He had come to see you right away? He did care more than you thought. Your fingers jumbled with the buttons on his shirt, trying to undo them as quickly as possible.

As soon as you got to the last button, his shirt was off swiftly, discarded on the floor somewhere with your shorts.

His fingers moved around your underwear, playing with your clothed folds. It always felt so good. Your breathy moans told him so.

Soon enough, your underwear was thrown somewhere and a finger travelled between your legs, swiping up your wetness.

Your breath got caught in your throat as Gitae placed a finger inside you, moving in and out at just the right place. Your hands clung onto his shoulders as your back arched.

Another finger was added and the pace picked up. Your noises became louder and soon enough, your climax reached its peak, crashing down on you.

You took a moment to catch your breath as Gitae pulled his fingers out, kissing you again. You took a sharp breath in when you felt his large member line up with your hole. It had been over a month since you last did it. Would it still fit?

It was slow and the stretch killed you, but once Gitae was fully inside, you couldn't deny how good it felt. He barely allowed you a moment to adjust before slamming into you again and again.

Your, well his shirt, had risen above your breasts, bouncing with every thrust. One hand moved to play with one nipple, while his mouth worked on the other. The noises you made sounded heavenly to him, something he missed while away.

Pulling away from your breasts, Gitae focused on thrusting in and out harder. He was memorized by the scene. You beneath him, pressed into the couch, boobs bouncing with each thrust, sweat building on you body as you took his cock like the good girl you were.

He loved the way you looked, with juices flowing down your legs as you got wetter with each thrust. He moved your legs, placing your knees by your shoulders, letting him get a better view.

You moan louder as the change in positions hit places that only Gitae could ever touch. The pressure quickly built up within you, a release was coming soon. For both of you.

“Cum on my cock (y/n). Let me show you how much I've missed you”

His words sent you over the edge as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Stars was all you saw as the pleasure reached every inch of your body, flowing intensely.

Just as you were coming down, Gitae reached his own climax, sending a few messy thrusts into you before exploding. His milky white cream coated your walls and you both laid there panting, catching your breaths.

A passionate kiss was shared between the two of you as Gitae pulled out and switched your positions. He was now laying on the couch and you on top of him. His finger played with your hair as your moves aimlessly on his chest, moving to trace his well defined abs.

“I didn't think you were gonna come here right when you came back. Sometimes I think you have other girls besides me.”

You knew he wouldn't normally entertain such silly thoughts, normally choosing to ignore them. After sex however, he usually became more talkative, or well, more willing to answer.

“I don't need nobody else when it feels this good”

He didn't elaborate on what it was, the sex or the relationship.

He knew he didn't need to clarify. Afterall, why waste words when he could just show you what he meant.

------------------------

Wrapping up the year with a Gitae fic, just like how I started writing this year.

My first attempts at a smut. If you cringed, don't worry, I also did while writing this. Please forgive any mistakes, I wrote this very late at night.

Happy New Years to everyone 🥳🥳🥳

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #gitae kim #kitae kim #gitae kim x reader #kitae kim x reader #lookism gitae

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osohchoso · 3 days ago

Text

Blood and Chains

Chapter Three- Coffee and Pizza

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Chapter 4 coming soon!

Content: very fluffy slice-of-life chapter, friendships, multiple pov, protective Choso, comfort, the creepy pizza man

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

A few more days pass by and Choso still hasn't sent the first text. Not because he didn't want to talk to you, but simply because he couldn't remember how to start a new text message. He's fine with responding to an incoming text, but starting a new one is a whole other story. He curses himself for not putting his number in your phone too. Learning how to navigate the world's technology has been harder than some of the special grade curses he's faced in the past four years.

He sits on the couch in his apartment, a random nature documentary playing on the TV in front of him. Barely paying attention, just using it for some comforting background noise as he stares at your contact in his phone. His fingers hover over the different options, wanting to guess which one will start a message. A worrying thought of pressing the wrong option and deleting your number all together passes through him, there isn't a guarantee he will accidentally run into you a third time. He knows you are probably disappointed that he hasn't reached out, or maybe you have forgotten all about him by now. He lets out a sigh and locks his phone, setting it face down on the couch.

CLICK! He hears a key twist in the front door, turning his head to watch as Yuji walks in. His brother instantly kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack by the door, letting out an exasperated sigh. Since the night Choso found you in the woods, Yuji has been off on a mission several cities away chasing down a group of sneaky special grades.

Yuji makes his way over to the couch and flops down, resting his head against the armrest and swinging his legs up onto Choso’s lap like a footstool. He offers his little brother a warm smile in return.

“How was your mission?” Choso asks.

“Exhausting!” Yuji groans dramatically. “I’m so glad to finally be back home” He then delves into the details about how him, Megumi and Nobara pushed their limits each day. Exorcizing a group of curses that were running from city to city. Thankfully, there were no injuries between the three of them. Choso listens intently, nodding from time to time, making sure to give Yuji his undivided attention.

“Nobara and Megumi are coming over tonight, we need a day to celebrate and relax after this mission” Yuji finishes.

“Hmmm…sounds like a good idea. What should we do tonight?” Choso asks. He loves hanging out with Yuji’s friends. Ever since the brothers connected with each other, they always made sure Choso felt welcome. It was nice, considering Choso doesn't really have any friends he can call his own. Ideas run through his head for tonight. Movies, takeout, game night…the options are endless.

“Actually…” Yuji’s sheepish voice brought him back to the present. Choso looks over at his brother and notices how he looks away, avoiding his gaze. Choso tilts his head and blinks at him, confused.

“I was hoping it would just be the three of us tonight…” Yuji continues, pulling his legs off of Choso and sitting up straight on the couch to look at him. “The three of us haven't had a day where it's just us hanging out in forever…please forgive me big bro” Yuji apologizes, closing his eyes and pressing his hands together while he begs for forgiveness. Choso was never upset, could never even stay upset at him.

“Don’t worry about me…it’s fine.” Choso reaches over and pats Yuji’s head. “You're allowed to have some alone time with your friends. I’m sure you don’t want your big brother hovering around you forever.” he chuckles. Yuji lets out a sigh of relief and opens his eyes again, thankful for not hurting his feelings.

“Maybe I’ll see if my new acquaintance wants to hang out tonight too” Choso smiles, this could be the perfect excuse to text you. And now Yuji is here to help make that text happen. Choso explains briefly about his meeting with you, how he got your number.

“OOOOOO!” Yuji teases. “You have a girl’s number!” he pokes Choso in the cheek with his index finger. Choso swats his hand away, blushing slightly.

“It’s not like that! I hardly know her” Choso protests. “Just promise me you’ll keep this between us. I don't want Nobara spreading rumors to every Jujutsu sorcerer we know” He also wants to keep you very far away from the world of curses and he is taking what feels like a huge risk to even see you. Choso holds his pinky up, which Yuji instantly locks his pinky around his.

“I promise.” Yuji smiles, and the two pull their fingers apart. “I’m just glad you're open to meeting new people again. After everything that happened with-”

“Don’t say her name” Choso interrupts him before he can finish, his eyes darken with anger. The black mark over his nose slightly changing its shape uncontrollably. “I don't want to hear her name ever again.” Yuji looks at him guilty, mouthing a quick 'I’m sorry'. Choso takes a deep breath to calm himself and relaxes his face, the black mark returning to its usual thick rectangle. He shakes his head to dismiss the painful memories before they can surface.

“This girl is different…” he trails off. “And I can't stay your shadow forever Yuji, I need to start finding my own friends too I guess.” Choso looks down at his hands as he admits this. He knew he would have to accept this one day or another. One day his brother will move out on his own to explore his own path in life. Then Choso will start to see him less and less. He hopes they won't grow apart and knows Yuji will always make an effort to spend time with him, but he's afraid of losing his brother. His only family he has.

“I think making new friends is a great idea, brother.” Yuji pats Choso on his back, flashing his unforgettable warm smile. It’s contagious, causing Choso to smile back.

“Okay…I need your help.” Choso picks his phone back up, unlocking it and opening your contact info again. “Don’t be mad Yuji…I forgot how to start a new text message again.” Choso laughs as he shows the screen to his brother. Yuji rolls his eyes, tapping the speech bubble icon on the contact page, effortlessly opening to a blank message. A line flashes in the empty text area, beckoning Choso to type.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Your POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

You lean against the counter of the cafe, your shift dragging on. Only a few hours left until 5pm, closing time. Though the cafe really starts to die down after 3pm each day, currently there isn't a single customer. You wish you could close up early and call it a day, but there is always a chance of someone coming in for a late-night caffeine rush. You glance over at your younger coworker Sara, texting away on her phone. Her fingers typing furiously as she makes plans for tonight, Friday night. You sigh and pull your own phone out, knowing there isn't going to be anything. Ever since you gave Choso your number, you keep checking for a message, hoping for something that never arrives. Defeated, you slide the phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You frown. You were used to men ghosting you, but this time it hurt more for some reason.

BUZZ! Your phone vibrates in your pocket, startling you out of your self-pity. You quickly pull it back out. Unlocking the screen and staring at the message from the unsaved number.

Unknown number: Hey

You stare at it in disbelief. Is this him? Did he actually decide to text me? Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you type your response. He didn’t forget about you after all.

You: Hello, who is this?

You send your response, though you already know the answer. The next text comes instantly.

Unknown Number: Choso

You smile to yourself as you read his name again. You save his number in your contacts immediately. Sara looks over, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Who are you texting, Y/N?” she inches closer.

“None of your business,” you say, though your words have no bite to them. Sara just laughs and looks back at her own phone. You roll your eyes at your nosey coworker. She loves to gossip, loves to give unsolicited advice and loves to play matchmaker. It's annoying sometimes but in a little sister sort of way. You look back to your phone, noticing another text from Choso.

Choso: What are you doing?

You: Working :p

Choso: Oh…what do you do?

You: I work at Papa Coffee. It’s a cute café, you should come try it sometime.

Your heart races as you wait for his next text. The thought of seeing him with his silly pigtails in the cozy café decorated by your art, it warms your heart.

Choso: I looked it up, it's not far from my apartment actually.

Choso: Hey, want to hang out tonight? After you're done working?

You hold your breath as you read the last text. Hang out, he wants to hang out with you. Tonight! Yes, yes, yes! You say inside your head. You hear Sara giggle as she sees your eyes light up, smile growing bigger.

You: Sure, what do you want to do? :)

Choso: Soo…I don’t want to seem weird. But my brother is kicking me out for the night LOL. I can bring a movie if we can hang at your place??

My place? You think about your tiny little apartment. It seems risky to bring him to your home before you even really get to know him, he could be a murderer for all you know. Or am I just a booty call? You find yourself wondering. It's such an odd excuse to use to invite yourself over, but part of you pushes the worry away. You trust this odd stranger. So, you decide to take a leap of faith, putting all your trust into Choso.

You: Sure, I get out at 5. I’ll send you my address!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Time seems to move even slower now that you have plans to look forward to. A small rush of customers come in for some tea lattes, giving something for you and Sara to pass the time with. You wave to the customers as they leave with their to go cups, thanking them for their business. You check the time, 45 minutes left.

“Hey, I’m going to take a 15-minute break before we start hardcore cleaning.” You call to Sara as you hang the brown apron up on the wall, exchanging it for the bag dangling from the hook. She nods in understanding. You don’t smoke but your boss still wants everyone to take advantage of using their break times. Even if your break is just you sitting down to rest your feet and draw or have a quick snack. You walk over to the small seat in the corner, pulling out your sketchbook. You tap your pencil against your pursed lips, deep in thought.

“Welcome in” Sara’s customer service voice gets your attention. You glance up to see who walks through the front door, assessing if she needs help. Your eyes land on him. His puffy pigtails bouncing as he enters the cafe. He stands there, looking around, completely ignoring Sara as she tries to assist him.

“Choso?” you call surprised from the corner. What is he doing here? We planned to meet at my place, after I was done working. He turns as you call his name, spotting where you sit in the corner. He calls your name softly and waves, making his way toward the table and sitting in the seat across from you. You notice the ultra comfy clothes he wears, baggy black jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a soft smirk gracing your face at this surprise.

“I know I know, you're still working. I just got bored…and my brother’s friends arrived so it was time I left to give them space.” he leans back in his chair, taking in the sights of the café. His dark rimmed eyes roaming over every detail. The rustic interior, the twinkling fairy lights, your art framed on the walls. He looks back at you. “I don’t mind waiting,” he assures you. You set your sketchbook on the table and stand up.

“Well since you came all this way, let me make you a drink. My treat, a way of paying you back for my cab the other day. What would you like?” you offer.

“You really don’t need to worry about paying me back…but I'll never say no to a treat. Surprise me” he smirks.

You stand and walk back to the counter, hearing Choso’s thick shoes clomp behind you. You grab your apron and slip it on, tying it tight around your waist. Choso leans forward on the counter, resting his chin in his hand as he watches intently.

You grab a ceramic mug and begin to brew the espresso. While you wait, you steam some milk in a small metal pitcher. Your mind wanders, thinking of what kind of latte art you should surprise him with. An idea strikes you, it's going to be perfect.

Picking the mug of espresso up, you tilt it slightly to the side. The warm roasted aroma filling your nostrils. You start to swirl the steamed milk into the cup. Then lift the pitcher up to create more detailed swirls and blobs on the top. You are so engrossed in making this coffee masterpiece you don't notice the way Choso eyes your every move, curious as to what you're about to present to him. Then you pick up a toothpick, adjusting the way the foam sits on top to create some finishing details. You set the mug down and admire your work, sneaking a picture for the cafe’s instagram page before you hand it off to Choso.

You smile and set the mug down in front of him. Being made of coffee and steamed milk, it isn't the most detailed design but you can easily tell what it is. A round head with two swirly pigtails, the coffee showing underneath to create a distinct nose tattoo. Choso looks down at his coffee portrait, you see a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Is this…me?” he asks in disbelief, not looking up from the mug.

“Yup” you beam at him, extremely proud of this creation. He continues to inspect it, like glancing away will cause it to vanish.

“You're an amazing artist.” he finally looks up from the mug. You can't stop your cheeks warming at his praises, tucking a hair behind your ear shyly. “I don't even want to drink it, it would ruin the art” he looks back down at the cup.

“Thanks, but please enjoy it before it gets cold. I took a picture anyway.” You smile, watching as he picks the latte up for the first sip. His eyes widen as the taste crashes onto his tongue.

“Wow…that's a damn good coffee” He says softly, his tongue poking out to swipe over his soft lips. He glances over at a pile of prints you've made that sit in front of the cash register. His fingers start to mindlessly flip through them, admiring each one while sipping his drink. He stops when he sees a familiar scene. The rabbit in the woods. He pulls it out of the stack.

“You finished it.” he remarked. The color of the background is vibrant and green, the shadows of the trees stretching tall and ominous. But the center, that's the focal point. A small white rabbit, so soft you could feel it through the picture, its pink nose touching the lavender petal of the flower. He continues to look at it, warmth glowing in his dark eyes. You say nothing, just silently watch him admire your art. It's weird, how this comfortable silence sets over the two of you like you have known each other for decades.

“Ok enough yapping, let's clean up so I can go home” Sara’s no-nonsense tone interrupts the silence. You nod, ready to finish and head home with Choso.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

5 pm on the dot, You and Sara make for the doors of the coffee shop. Choso stands outside, his backpack over his shoulder, waiting for the two of you to finish the closing tasks.

“Oh wait!” Sara suddenly says before you flick off the light switch. She runs behind the counter, grabbing an envelope underneath. Thrusting it into your hands when she returns to your side.

“This is your art sales for today,” she explains. You cock your head, confused. You didn't realize anyone bought prints today. Sara points to Choso standing outside. “Your friend there bought the newest one, the little bunny, while you were in the back cleaning. He couldn't stop looking at it” She giggles.

“Oh! I had no idea. Thanks Sara” you smile, peeking inside the envelope. There was a lot of cash in here. “How much did you charge him?” You hiss, appalled. Stuffing the envelope in your bag.

“It wasn't me! He insisted!” Sara holds her hands up. “Look, I told him the price you had listed and he said, ‘that's way too cheap’ and paid double.” You can't help but giggle as you hear her deep imitation voice of Choso. You know you price your prints low, that's just how it works as a starting artist. Though you'll have to find a way to thank him for his generosity later.

You finish locking up the shop, double and triple checking everything is done properly, then say your goodbyes to Sara for the night as she turns in the opposite direction. You walk back up to Choso.

“Hope we didn’t make you wait too long.” you smile.

“Not at all,” he responds, his face showing no emotion at all.

“My apartment isn't too far from here either. Makes coming to work easy.” you start to walk down the street, beckoning him to follow. “You said you live around here too?” you ask curiously.

“About 10 minutes that way” he points behind us, the same direction Sara is walking. He’s been so close this whole time and you had no idea. It's crazy that you have never run into each other before.

You pass the time on this walk while talking about your day, you were honestly so nervous to be alone with him, you couldn't stop. One of your anxious habits, but he never made you uncomfortable, never judged. Just would listen, nod and hum in agreement as you talked. He was a great listener, always a man of few words himself. You wonder if he's just as nervous to be here with you as you are, but his facial expressions give nothing away. 7 minutes later you see your apartment building on the horizon. You reach in your bag and fish for your keys inside.

“What about you Choso? What do you do for work?” you ask as you continue searching for your keys, coming up to the steps of the brick complex.

“Hmmm…I would rather not talk about my job” he grumbles slightly, dodging the question completely. You are still curious but decide to press more another day. Maybe he had a really rough day today and doesn't want to think about it. You decided to keep tonight light-hearted and fun, no serious questions. Not yet.

You lead him through the main doors and up the stairs to the third floor. Your hand finally finds the cool metal of the key buried inside your bag. Unlocking and pushing the door open, unveiling a very messy apartment. There haven't been any visitors over in a while.

“Close your eyes!” you blurt out. A rumble of a laugh escapes his throat, but he does as you tell him. Closing his eyes as he waits in the doorway. You quickly rush around, throwing away take-out containers and picking up the pile of clothes you left in the bathroom. You leave the canvas you were painting on the dining room table, still needing to dry, but rinse out the dirty paint water cups you had lying around. One last look around and you decide this place looks…acceptable.

“Ok, you can open your eyes and enter” you call to him. He walks into your space, closing the door gently behind him. “I know it’s not a lot…but it's cozy.” You admit to him as his eyes wander over the interior. It's a small one-bedroom apartment with one bathroom and a combined kitchen and living room area. It's always been enough for you, a place to call your own.

“It’s nice” he gives a small smile as he walks over to your couch, plopping down like he's been here before. You quickly excuse yourself to the bedroom to change. Slipping on a comfortable pair of pink sweatpants and a loose worn-out band tee. You sit down next to him, being careful to keep a respectable space.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pulling out your phone. He looks over and nods slowly. “Pizza?” you almost see a glimmer in his eyes at the word. You chuckle to yourself and open up the website for the local pizza place down the road. He scoots closer to look over your shoulder at your phone. His breath warm against your ear.

“Hey, that's my favorite place too!” he exclaims in excitement, the most emotion he's allowed himself to show all day. “My little brother and I order from there once a week. Get a supreme pizza, no mushroom extra onions” He's close to drooling as he speaks about his favorite order. The sight of this man, normally so stoic, getting so passionate about his pizza is honestly so cute. He notices you staring at him, wearing a smile. He takes a moment to compose himself again, clearing his throat and looking away. “I mean...only if you like that sort of thing”

You chuckle lightly. Then tap the options on the screen and place the order. 30 minutes.

“Hey! You should have let me pay” he objects.

“Nope! You way overpaid for the print you bought at the cafe.” you scold him. The tips of his ears turn bright red and he looks away. You caught him. He had no idea that Sara told you it was him who bought that cute bunny picture.

“Well…maybe you should charge your worth. Then I won't have to overpay” He grumbles under his breath. He acts like such a tough guy on the outside, but you see his soft interior shine through with each passing second.

You kill more time by chatting with Choso. Talking to him is so easy, it comes naturally. You feel as if you have known him your entire life. His dark eyes remained locked on yours the entire time. He asks lots of questions about your life and your passions. You show him your art account on Twitter and hand your phone to him, watching as he scrolls through. Various drawings of your favorite anime characters, replicated in your art style. A knock on your door startles the both of you. Pizza is here.

You stand from the couch and walk toward the door, glancing back to see Choso still engrossed in scrolling through the art on your phone. Opening the door, you see the delivery man on the other side. He looks at the receipt, repeating your name then looks up. Eyes roaming over your body uncomfortably. You nod at the sound of your name, reaching out for the pizza. He turns away, keeping it out of your reach.

“You're a pretty one,” he smirks, peering past you. From where he stands, he's unable to see inside your apartment and assumes you're all alone. “There is no way a girl like you can eat all this pizza by yourself. Need some company, dollface?” he licks his lips, looking at you like prey.

“No…I’m Fine-” he interrupts you by reaching out and grabbing your wrist with one hand, his other balancing the pizza box.

“Nonsense…” he tightens his grip, an evil grimace curling on his lips. You try to yank your hand away but he has you captured too tightly. Blood pumping through you, roaring in your ears, you freeze. A deer caught in the headlights. Through your panic, you don’t notice the quiet footsteps of your muscular friend coming behind you. Not until you hear his hand grip the front door, the wood groaning under his strength. You look up, Choso stands behind you glaring down at the delivery man threateningly. The man looks back, releasing your hand quickly. Fear crossed his face as Choso continued to glare.

“Pizza” Choso commands, his deep voice echoing in the hallway. The man hesitates for a moment before thrusting it into your hands. The air between the two men grows thick, tense. So you retreat back inside, wanting to stay far away from what might unfold next. Setting the pizza on your counter you peek back over by the door. Seeing Choso with his arms folded, talking sternly. The man then nods and bows apologetically before sprinting toward the exit of the complex. Choso closes the door, locking it, then walks back to where you stand in the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, he holds out his hand, palms up, in front of the wrist the man grabbed. He looks up at you, concern swimming in the dark orbs of his eyes. You hesitate before placing your wrist into his hand.

“I’m fine. Thank you” you whisper, trying to sound brave. It’s obvious how scared and rattled you really were. You don’t trust most men, they are all creeps with bad intentions. All except for the one standing in front of you, who holds your wrist so gingerly. His rough thumb lightly gliding over where the man gripped you, soothing any remaining pain. You don’t pull away, allowing his touch to calm your heart rate. All your worries melting away.

“Pizza will get cold” you whisper, staring at his fingers. Part of you doesn’t want to eat anymore, the warm meal tainted with the memory of this encounter. Your stomach growls loudly. The other part of you clearly craves this. Choso releases his hand from you, his face turning to his normal unbothered look. Your wrist now feels slightly cold, missing his warm touch.

You each fill your plates with a few slices of pizza. Then make your way to the couch in the living room. He reaches into the backpack, pulling out a DVD case.

“Movie time?” he asks, holding up the DVD. You read the title.

“Human Earthworm 4?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Never heard of it.” He hands it to you, which you pop into your PS4 and plop back down next to Choso.

“Yeah…my brother has been asking me to watch this for years now.” he laughs warmly. “He told me to watch it tonight, I guess it doesn't matter if we haven't seen parts 1 through 3”

You both settle next to each other on the couch, you look down at your pizza. Bell peppers. You hate them. Picking them each off one by one, you place them on top of Choso’s pizza. He eyes you, skeptical.

“You don’t like peppers? We didn’t have to order this pizza…we could have gotten something you liked instead.”

“You just seemed so excited about this.” you giggle. “More peppers for you I guess” you shrug. He simply rolls his eyes at you but doesn't complain. The room is filled with the sounds of chewing and the strange movie on the TV. You find yourself instinctually shifting closer and closer to Choso, until your shoulders touch.

Twenty minutes into this movie, this god-awful movie. You are confused by the plot and the worms really gross you out. You sneak a glance at Choso, wanting to glimpse his reaction to the film. As you turn your head, he stands up without a word, walking over to the TV and turning it off. His eyes meet yours, a blank expression you can't read. You burst out laughing, which must have been infectious because his laughter followed suit.

“I’m going to kill Yuji” he wipes a tear from his eye. You can’t control your laughter, buckling over on the couch. That movie was seriously so bad.

“Next time, I’ll pick the movie.” You giggle after composing yourself again.

You shift into playing a board game for the rest of the night. You learned that Choso has a fondness for games just as you do. The game Life being a favorite for both. You play games, chat and listen to music together. You see more and more of that soft side of Choso, seeing him open up slightly. Seeing his playful humor shine through his usual quiet demeanor. It’s addicting to watch his personality unfold before you.

As the night winds down, the two of you settle into the couch. A documentary on dinosaurs playing quietly on the TV. Choso fights his tired eyes to stay open, he planned on going back home tonight once his brother’s friends left. You pull a blanket over the two of you, huddling up next to him. That seemed to be the last straw, accepting his fate, his eyes fluttered shut. No longer able to fight sleep. You take a moment to watch him. His beautiful peaceful face. His head flops down onto your shoulder, his pigtails tickling the skin of your neck. Butterflies take flight inside your stomach.

“Choso?” you whisper softly to him.

“Mmm…” he murmurs, adjusting his head to get even more comfortable against the dip between your shoulder and neck. You decide to let him sleep against you for a bit, he always looks so tired he must need a good night’s rest. You lean your head onto his, loving the warmth radiating between your bodies.

“What were you even doing in Shibuya that night…” you whisper, wondering out loud. That moment, a moment led by fear and worry became a turning point in your life. That moment led to now, to a sweet sleepy Choso snoozing away on your shoulder. You don’t expect him to respond, but he continues to surprise you.

“Saving you” he breathes quietly in response, you're not even sure if he's awake. If he's talking in his sleep or if he knows what he's saying. Either way, you smile. You had your suspicions that he's the reason you were alive. To you, he's a hero.

dividers by @anitalenia

A/N: thanks for reading! :) I'm trying to work on uploading everything I have posted on my Ao3 so expect chapter 4 later this week too!

Also! If anyone wants to be added to a taglist for this fic let me know!

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melestasflight · 3 days ago

Note

mel i SO misunderstood the assigment

vinyamar, maglor, fingon, idril. <-prompt that follows the vibe

Turgon, Fingon, Idril & Maglor, summer festival in Vinyamar. Rated G, 550 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Of all our kin, did you have to bring him along?” Turgon growls at his older brother.

“Vinyamar shall be a city for all, a cultural melting pot of Beleriand, did you not say so yourself?” Fingon says in perfect imitation of Turgon’s own voice, moving his arms about as he does at public speeches, then laughs out loud when Turgon lifts his eyebrows in warning. “Oh come, little brother, cheer up! You well know that none can bring more life to a party than Makalaurë. Half of these people are here to see him perform.”

“They are here because they take interest in building something new where we can prosper and grow as people.” Turgon has worked hard to ready the halls of Vinyamar for the summer harvest festival, the first to be celebrated in his new city, and he will be damned if a son of Fëanor steals the show.

“Yes, yes, as you say,” Fingon waves a hand dismissively.

Unappeased, Turgon releases his grip on his brother’s shoulder and glares across the hall at the bodies clustering around the pavilion. The musicians expressly hired for the festival have cleared a space; Maglor directs them as though each were connected by a thread to his fingers, having them arrange his set-up just so.

“Do at least attempt to look pleased, father.” Turgon starts, and looks back. Idril smiles wide, handing him a short glass of his favourite mint cordial, cleverly disguised as the much stronger liquor others have begun to pass around. “Vinyamar’s first summer festival is proving to be a much greater success than I ever imagined!” She takes a sip of her own drink, eyes crinkled and bright with amusement.

“Thank you,” he says, then: “Yes, I am sure, by the small hours of the morning when all are thoroughly besotted with drink, all will be singing my brother’s praises for ‘turning the mood around’.”

But Idril is only half-listening, watching the performance with glee, and Turgon follows her eyes. Fingon has joined Maglor on the stage, and has brought out some unusual Grey-elven instrument, the horn of some great beast, gilded and marked with holes like a pipe. Fingon blows a first sequence of notes, a fierce vibration of sound. He draws the instrument from his lips, laughing, and Maglor laughs with him. When they resume playing, it is to the accompaniment of stamping feet and, soon, the crowd clapping and singing along, swept up in the rhythm and merriment.

It is contagious, and Turgon cannot keep the smile from dancing over his face.

“That is better!” Idril cries. “Here, will you keep this for me?” She shoves her drink in his hand; as she runs and leaps towards the pavilion, she hikes her skirts to her knees, baring the glittering silver filigree of her ankles, and dances joyfully before and around Fingon and Maglor’s playing.

Turgon may not understand his brother’s spirited excesses; he may resent Maglor’s enduring popularity; but, he finds such frustrations melt off his shoulders at the simple sight of his daughter dancing, so full of mirth and life.

He looks around, and finding no one is truly paying attention, Turgon downs his cordial, the rest of Idril’s drink, and strides over to join Idril on the dance floor.

#turgon #fingon #idril #maglor #vinyamar #silmarillion #polu and melesta's birthday bash

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kamimarroco · 2 days ago

Text

this was supposed to be shorter, but i ended up exaggerating. also posting now because i really don't know if i would have the courage to do it during the day while aware of the mistakes that the story has :)

high chance that at some point I will delete it, or not. anyway

Words: almost 900

you find yourself sprawled across the grand, uncomfortably soft bed in the room, your gaze fixed on the luxurious ceiling, distracted by the figures drawn above. the blanket is too low to even cover your feet, the cold of the night hitting your skin protected only by the fabric of your pajamas.

you look to the side and see Fox curled up on part of the bed, his back turned to you and the upper half of his body completely exposed, unlike the lower half. you feel tempted, a desire you haven't felt for a while.

it wouldn't hurt to try, right?

you put boredom aside and decide to make the effort to get closer to him, being careful so that he doesn't notice the changes in weight on the bed. you get close enough to have him within arm's reach, reaching out to gently run your fingers over Fox's fur. your skin instantly picks up the capillaries, not so bold as to actually touch, but enough to feel something. your eye widens, your cheeks slightly burning, and then you move.

you run your fingers down his back, feeling his fur, tracing the scars that adorn his age-affected skin, noticing the details that you never took the time to pay due attention to. it's interesting, and most importantly, it's something to keep your mind busy.

you lower your fingertips, and lower and lower, getting close to the part of the body where his tail starts, about to feel-

“what are you doing?", comes a harsh, deep and authoritative voice, and perhaps above all, angry.

your wrist is violently grabbed by one of Fox's hands, stopping your activity of exploring his body, your gaze seconds later moving to meet his. furrowed brows deepen the wrinkles that decorate his face, amber eyes glaring furiously at you.

he didn't expect you to do that.

“nothing. i'm just touching you”, you answer honestly with a calm and collected attitude, not realizing the need to lie about something so small that was more than obvious.

“touching me? without my permission?”, the way he takes great offense at your little act is ironic when you remember that he scourges your body until you open up, not caring about your consent or the pain inflicted on you.

it's strange, of course. you never had a good relationship with Fox, let alone initiate something as intimate as simply touching him while he sleeps. it's weird when you two point your nails and teeth at each other at least most of the time.

“i was just trying to do something good”

“oh, really? you, who never accepted my affections or showed gratitude for keeping you alive?”

you feel as if a thousand arrows have been aimed at your heart and shot all at once, the discomfort is too real for you to let go, but you really don't want to let it show.

“okay. yeah, fine. have it your way", you quickly remove your wrist from his grip, his gaze never leaving you even as you begin to distance yourself, returning to your spot on the bed, away from him and still without the blanket. you don't hear him say anything or feel him move from his spot, but you know he continues to watch you with distrust.

you turn your back and close your eye, trying to fall asleep as you curl up into yourself, the cold that afflicts you no longer just physical, but emotional.

you don't know how many minutes pass, but when your eyelid threaten to cover your vision, you feel something envelop your body. warm, soft, and furry.

not only does the warm, soft fabric of the blanket catch you, but someone else's body does too. you feel Fox's claws caressing your arm lightly, his chest pressed against your back. you feel his breathing behind you, controlled, not really relaxed.

“i don't know why you did that", he whispers, the tone lower than the one he usually uses. “you've never done it before, why now?”

do you really need a reason for what you did?

“i don't know. i wanted something different. i wanted something that wasn't just fighting or hate sex”, you open the only eye you have to look at the wall, not finding the strength to turn your head and see him. “maybe i was actually trying to do something good”

you can't fool yourself into thinking that this doesn't sound weird. Fox, then, has every reason to doubt you even more. and yet, your voice sounds genuine, not with the intention of deceiving.

perhaps a part of you really wants to make your relationship more pleasant, despite the intrigues that often come to light countless times. or maybe you're just tired of fighting for something over and over and over again. a genuinely true change would not be terrible, quite the contrary.

"i kind of liked how you touched my body," Fox confesses quietly, warming up to you in both a literal and figurative sense. his claws no longer seem to awaken a fight-or-flight instinct within you. "you really seemed fascinated by it…"

in one of the rare moments, you can tolerate and, incredibly, appreciate each other's presence, so different from the dynamics you usually have. it's refreshing in a way you can't put into words

even if you know that this will not last

#btd #btd2 #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #ren hana #tpof #the price of flesh #tpof fox #tpof ren #writing

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damthosefandoms · 2 days ago

Text

Hard as a rock and about as human.

(ao3 link) (wip post)

Summary:

Soda & Darry want to know where their brother is.

---

The clock is ticking in the kitchen. Ponyboy is out past curfew. With Dally. The door creaks open, and Darry stands up so fast he nearly falls over. Sodapop walks in, and if he wasn’t freaking out so badly about Pony, maybe Darry would’ve caught the look on his brother’s face.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Soda says. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying again. “Why’re you makin’ that face?”

“Pony ain’t back yet,” Darry mutters. “Close the door, you’ll let in bugs.”

Soda does, slowly. He walks over, kinda keeping his head down. Looking anywhere but at Darry.

“Normally I’d be worried too, but actually that kind of works out, ‘cause I have to tell you something I don’t want him to know about yet. I mean…”

He kicks at the throw rug with his foot. “I told him a little last night, but he prolly thinks I was just daydreamin’ and that’s for the best.”

Darry watches him carefully. Oh, so now he’s paying attention.

“What’s goin’ on? You went out with Steve and the girls tonight, didn’t you? Did something happen?”

“I asked Sandy to marry me tonight.”

Darry laughs, a quick, sharp thing. It stings. He doesn’t get it. Ponyboy didn’t either, but he’s fourteen, only been fourteen for a month. He didn’t need to yet.

“You’re dreamin’ Sodapop. You might’ve dropped outta school this year, but you two are way too young for—”

“She’s pregnant.”

They stare at each other for a solid minute, the only sound the clock ticking in the background and the crickets outside. Just the two of them standing there processing the information.

Darry starts to raise a hand, to hold up a finger in a “wait a minute” kind of gesture, and he moves his mouth like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. Soda’s heart hurts in his chest and he tries not to start bawling right there in front of his big brother.

“Well, it don’t matter, anyway. Sandy doesn’t know if it’s mine or not. And if it is it still don’t matter ‘cause her folks are livid. They’re makin’ her move to Florida to live with her grandmother or somethin’, and she dumped me so I’ll never get to see her again, or the baby at all, and she’s leavin’ tomorrow afternoon, and if you could not lose your mind at me I’d really ‘preciate it ‘cause I feel like worse than garbage already.”

He really fights not to let the tears spill over, and granted he does a good job of not breaking down, but some do fall. Darry looks like he will blow any second now, but he just breathes in, breathes out, closes his eyes, and says in a very calculated and careful voice:

“Ponyboy went out with Dally tonight and he is not back yet. We will talk about this later when I know he is not dead.”

They do not get a chance to talk about it later, and they do not find out for a week if their baby brother is or isn’t dead.

---

“Don’t, Dare. The last thing he wants right now is you chasing after him.”

“He got jumped yesterday! He got jumped yesterday and you’re just gonna let him go out there alone?”

“He probably just went back to find Johnny. He’s probably just out in the lot. Look, it’s not like you never slept out there, and don’t give me that look because I know you’ve done so much worse.”

“He wasn’t wearing a coat. He’ll freeze to death, Soda.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m going to look for him. You stay here in case he calls.”

Soda goes to grab his coat, and grabs an extra one for Ponyboy. He heads out to the empty lot first; it’s right across the street from their house. There’s an old backstop and the remnants of a baseball diamond, and Soda can just picture Two-Bit and Steve bitching at each other about whose fault it is Steve hit their last baseball over the fence into the junkyard.

“Johnny was supposed to catch it!”

“You hit a fly ball to a kid who’s never even dreamed of playing little league, what do you MEAN he was supposed to catch it?”

“The hell are you talkin’ about? None of us can afford little league!”

All he finds are the smoldering embers of a long-since-abandoned fire, but no sign of his brother or Johnny and that starts to worry him. He heads up the street to Johnny’s house, and can hear Mr. and Mrs. Cade screaming at each other. It’s no wonder they went to the lot instead. No way his boys are in there, so he pulls his jacket on tighter and keeps walking.

Two-Bit’s not home yet, but his mother answers the door and after chiding him for waking up her daughter this late by ringing the doorbell, she tells Soda she hasn’t seen the boys.

“I’m sorry, hun. I’ll let you know if I hear anything in the morning, alright?”

She won’t. She’s got three jobs, the only person he knows that tops Darry’s record for working their ass off to support a family. She’ll forget to call. He can’t blame her though; most parents on this side of town aren’t willing to help in the slightest.

He walks another block down and checks Steve’s bedroom window, just in case the boys went in. He and Two-Bit usually leave their windows unlocked just in case Dally or Johnny need a place to stay the night, just like how Darry leaves the door unlocked for anyone who needs it. They’re not there, and neither is Steve, but Soda knew that he wouldn’t. He went home earlier in the night with Evie and probably slept over there.

Sodapop checks his watch. If it’s working right (and there’s a good chance it’s not), then it’s almost three in the morning now, he’s dead tired, and he’s starting to freak out. He thinks Dally taught Johnny how to pick locks once; he heads towards the DX. Maybe they snuck into the store for food or something. Neither of them know how to drive; they can’t have gotten that far. And god, it’s not only his little brother missing now. It’s the other kid they all made an unspoken promise to protect.

Real shit job he’s doing of that, he thinks, as a late-night freight train blares its horn in the distance. Soda can’t help but shudder at the sound.

He finds Tim Shepard parked there at the gas station, sitting on the hood of his car with the puffy beginnings of a black eye and poking at his bloody nose with a paper towel. Soda asks if he’s seen his brother around.

“Ponyboy or Darrel?”

“Pony.”

“Yeah, I saw him earlier at the drive-in. He was with Two-Bit and that Johnny kid, an’ a couple of soc girls. Can’t imagine that went well.”

“Whaddya mean? I thought they went there with Dally.”

“Didn’t ya hear me? Soc girls. That spells trouble.”

Sodapop rolls his eyes. Girls are girls. Unless they’re Sandy…

He tries not to think about how his own night had just gone.

“It isn’t yours. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, I’ll marry you anyway. I love you, Sandy.”

“I’m leaving, Sodapop, and there isn’t a thing you or I or anyone can do about it, do you hear me?”

“Do you know where they are now or not?”

“Nah. But I can tell you they ain’t with Dallas. Jackass slashed my tires tonight ‘cause they all told him to screw off or somethin’. I got ‘im back, though. Pretty sure I busted his ribs. You need anythin’ else, Sodapop, or can I go back to licking my wounds?”

Soda thanks Tim for nothing and heads for the nearest payphone, to call Darry for a ride.

Darry picks him up ten minutes later and they drive around for a bit, eventually finding Two-Bit wandering around in the dark, drunk as a skunk. From what they can get out of him, he dropped the boys off by Johnny’s house around midnight, and he figured they were going home. Everything else that comes out of his mouth is slurred gibberish, so they give him a ride back to his house and watch to make sure he gets inside alright.

The only person they can’t seem to track down is Dally.

He shows up at their house late the next afternoon, walking right in without a care in the world, rubbing his wrists. They’re a little cut up.

“Hey Darry, where’s the first aid kit? Damn cuffs always leave a mark on me.”

“That’s ‘cause you make ‘em, Dal,” Darry says, but he goes to find it, anyway. “You’re not supposed to struggle in ‘em. Kind of the whole point. Why’d the cops take you in?”

“Yeah, Dal, you do anythin’ last night ‘sides piss off Tim Shepard and lose our little brother?” Soda calls from the kitchen, where he’s been sitting with Steve and Two-Bit.

“You took him and Johnny out. Now we find out Two-Bit walked them and some soc girls home and nearly got jumped in the process.”

Darry comes back out with the first aid kit. He pulls Dally into the kitchen and drags him right to the sink so he can clean his wrists up. He’s Soda and Pony’s big brother first, but these days, he’s everyone else’s big brother second.

Dally looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Soda. He doesn’t exactly answer the question. “They dragged me in for questioning, man. You guys… you ain’t seen the news yet?”

“Why?” Darry asks. “What’s—”

But Steve’s reaching over and pulling the folded-up newspaper out of Dally’s back pocket, and he opens it up, scanning the page a little. Soda can’t see the front from this angle, but Steve’s eyes go wide and he reads aloud,

“Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis are wanted for questioning regarding the murder of Robert Shel—”

“MURDER?!?”

As he yells, Darry accidentally squeezes Dally’s wrist so hard the scrapes from the handcuffs start to bleed again.

“You got my kid brother wrapped up in a murder?!?”

“I didn’t do shit!” Dally shouts, yanking his hand away. He gives Darry a look, and grabs a towel for his arm. Darry just stares down at the sink, but he’s clearly still listening.

His hands are shaking. Soda rips the paper from his best friend’s hands and stares at the pictures on the front—the one of Johnny is blurry and Soda has no idea where it came from. Pony’s picture is the same as the one taped up on their fridge—it’s from school picture day last fall, before their parents died, the last time they could afford to have that done.

“I just got brought in for questioning! I had no clue what was goin’ on ‘til this morning! I spent the night at Buck Merrill’s after I got into that scrap with Tim,” Dally says, and then he winces in pain.

“You know, you oughta watch your strength there, Darrel. You could really hurt somebody without meanin’ to.”

That catches Soda’s attention.

“What do you know, Dallas?” he asks.

“Whaddya mean, what do I know? I just told ya what I know.”

Except Soda and Darry aren’t humoring him anymore. They’re tired, they’re scared, and they’ve had enough of this shit.

“Where’s our brother?” Darry says in an eerily calm tone, and suddenly everybody in the room remembers Dally isn’t the only really scary one in the gang. “What the hell do you know about where Ponyboy was last night?”

Dally can take it, though. He didn’t spent three years on the streets of New York for nothing. He sneers at Darry.

“Your kid brother an’ Johnny Cade were out at the park when a buncha socs showed up drunk an’ it started to get messy. You wanna tell me why the hell Ponyboy was out that late when you’re s’posed to have him on a tight leash?”

“I don’t think that’s important anymore,” Darry lies.

“I sure as hell do.”

Dally takes a step forward. Darry balls his fists.

“Darrel, c’mon,” Soda pleads. Don’t let them fight here, not now. “Please. You tell him what you did or I will. It’s not like we can take it back anyway.”

Darry blinks, and he looks around the room at all of his friends and his little brother, and Soda’s right. He ducks his head low. All the fight drains out of him.

“I… I hit him. I didn’t mean it.”

“You hit him.”

Darry nods. Soda can’t look at him.

“You hit him. You didn’t mean it. You—” Dally barks out a laugh.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, Darrel Curtis, but you’re just shit grease just like everyone else, just like Johnny’s parents. No wonder those boys chose to run rather than face the fact that Johnny killed a guy tryna save Pony’s life.”

Two-Bit’s the one to say it.

“Johnny did what?”

It’s suddenly all real. It takes a couple minutes to sink in. And then Soda stands up and goes to grab his coat and the car keys, and Steve asks where he’s going.

“I’m going after them. Dare?”

His brother doesn’t hesitate.

“Right behind you.”

Darry lets the door slam shut behind them.

---

After hours of driving and phone calls and finding absolutely nothing, it’s well past midnight and Darry pulls the car over, puts his head down on the wheel, and tries not to scream. Sodapop glances over at him and sighs.

“You okay?”

“What the hell do you think?” Darry snaps, but he apologizes immediately. Soda forgives him. Forty-eight hours of not knowing what happened to your baby brother tends to wear on you.

“I can’t stop thinking. I know Ponyboy’s got a damn good heart. And there’s something… if we could just keep him on the right track he could go far, get out of the East Side. But no matter what I do, he just fights back and pushes me away. It feels like I've run this whole family right into the ground. Maybe… maybe you’d both be better off without me.”

“Dare—”

“I don’t know what else to do, Soda! I lost our brother. I hit him! I’m no better than Johnny’s old man. I’m not cut out for this shit, and it’s harder now than ever. The cops are looking for him. If we find him, or if he comes back now, they’ll come for him. Even if he gets off easy, they’ll take him away from us. They’ll take you, too, Soda. And I don’t want to be… Pepsi, I can’t do this. I oughta just throw in the towel.”

“Don’t talk like that. There ain’t no way of knowin’ what’s gonna happen. You think I can’t see everything you’re doin’? Making dinner, paying overdue bills we can’t afford just to keep the lights on… I don’t know what we’d do if you weren’t around. Look, I need you, Darrel. And anyone could see that Pony does too. You’re our brother. You’re our damn lifeline.”

Darry tries to shake him off, but Soda persists, refusing to back down from his older brother.

“I already lost Sandy this week, and now Ponyboy, and I can’t lose my big brother too. I know you love him, no matter what he thinks. We’ve just gotta get him home and show him that. We can deal with the rest when it comes.”

“What if it—”

“You know what Mama would say right now?”

“What?”

“That you’ve got a horrible case of the what-ifs.”

That makes Darry smile, even just a little. He buries his face into Soda’s shoulder and they both do their best not to cry.

#sodapop curtis #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders fanfiction #johnny cade #dally winston #two bit mathews #steve randle #tim shepard #my post #julie writes stuff #soda and his mom used to play the what-if game every morning before school because he hated it so much #and she’d always say he’s got a bad case of the what-ifs #so yeah he’s gonna turn it around on Darry lol

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