#these are just funny things that have happened to me before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosemariiaa · 1 day ago

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~Off the Rails (And into my Head) pt2~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— w/c: 9.4k (i think)

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi there, after my little crashout we finally got it! not all they proofread but wtv, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: fluff, language

By now, Azzi is convinced Paige is doing this on purpose.

Because no one—not even the most scatterbrained, forgetful, reckless person on the planet—could possibly get locked out of their hotel room four times in two weeks without some level of intention.

Right?

She doesn’t want to sound cocky, but at a certain point, she has to wonder—is this really just Paige being dumb, or is she actually doing this to see me?

The first time, Azzi gave her the benefit of the doubt. Mistakes happen. People forget their keycards. No big deal.

The second time, it was kind of funny. Paige had banged on Azzi’s door, looking like a very inconvenienced golden retriever, grumbling about how she definitely left her key on the nightstand.

The third time? Suspicious.

And now, standing in the hallway yet again, watching Paige attempt (and fail) to sweet-talk the front desk into giving her a new key without ID, Azzi is starting to think this is a pattern.

“You know they’re not gonna let you in unless you have ID,” she says, arms crossed.

Paige leans against the counter, turning on the charm. “Come on, man. We’ve done this before.”

The employee—same guy from last time, looking thoroughly unimpressed—gives her a blank stare. “Yeah. We have. Which is why you should know I can’t give you a key without ID.”

Paige sighs, spinning to face Azzi like she’s personally offended. “You hear this? They don’t trust me.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Because you literally could be an intruder.”

Paige scoffs. “Do I look like an intruder?”

Azzi takes in her oversized hoodie, messy bun, and sock-covered feet—because, of course, Paige didn’t even put on shoes before locking herself out. Again.

“…You look like someone who doesn’t deserve to get let back into their room.”

Paige gasps, audibly. “Wow. And I thought we were friends.”

Azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother hiding her smile. “I’ll go get my key.”

But before she can turn, Paige is already leaning dramatically over the counter, pleading her case.

Paige leans on the hotel counter, exasperated. “Kevin, I’ll give you my full name, room number—whatever you need.”

Kevin doesn’t blink. “Still need ID.”

Paige groans. “Kevin, you’re killing me.”

“Not my problem.”

Azzi snorts, clearly enjoying the show.

Paige sighs. “Come on, you know me. I’m practically on payroll at this point.”

Kevin just raises an eyebrow. “Or you could stop forgetting your key.”

Azzi covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

Paige turns to her. “Alright, hypothetically, I’m a paying guest, right?”

Kevin deadpans, “You are a guest.”

“So, shouldn’t I get customer service?”

Azzi actually laughs now.

Kevin stays unimpressed. “Customer service doesn’t mean breaking hotel policy.”

Paige throws herself onto the counter like a child. “You are so dramatic, Kevin.”

Kevin shrugs.

Azzi, amused but knowing this could go on forever, steps in. “Kevin,” she says, sweet and polite. “I totally understand if you can’t, but I’d really appreciate it if you made an exception.”

Kevin hesitates.

Azzi tilts her head, smiling.

Kevin sighs, already caving. “Fine. Just this once.”

Paige snatches the key before Azzi can grab it. “Wow. So all it takes is her asking? Unreal.”

Kevin shrugs. “She asked nicely.”

Paige’s eye twitches. “I asked nicely!”

Azzi laughs. “No, you didn’t.”

Paige huffs, dragging Azzi away by the wrist.

Azzi stumbles after her, grinning. “Aw are you jealous right now?”

Paige scoffs. “No. I’m offended.”

“Same thing.”

Back at Paige’s room, she grumbles under her breath, keycard clenched in her fist like a personal insult.

Azzi shakes her head, still entertained. “I barely even asked.”

Paige scoffs. “Barely asked? Please. You could get someone’s social security number with that voice.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “It’s called being polite.”

“I was polite.”

Azzi gives her a look.

Paige throws a hand up. “I said ‘come on, man,’ I used his name, I even recited my room number! I was the definition of polite.”

Azzi hums, unconvinced.

Paige glares. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me. You smiled, and Kevin folded in three seconds.”

Azzi smirks.

Paige scowls. “Wipe that look off your face.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re smug.”

Azzi grins. “Well, I did get you a free key.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I don’t need your charity.”

Azzi teases, “Should I go back and tell Kevin I changed my mind?”

Paige shoves the key deeper into her pocket. “Don’t you dare.”

Azzi laughs as Paige jams the key into the slot harder than necessary.

Green light.

Paige throws the door open. “Finally.”

Inside, Paige flops onto the bed dramatically.

Azzi perches on the edge. “So… you wanna admit you did this on purpose, or should we pretend you’re just that forgetful?”

Paige groans into the comforter. “I wish I was smart enough to plan this.”

Azzi chuckles. “At least you admit it.”

Paige peeks at her through her fingers. “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Paige groans again.

Azzi nudges her. “Look on the bright side. You’re inside now.”

Paige squints. “Wait… what’s the bright side?”

Azzi gives her a look. “That you’re not locked out?”

Paige blinks. “Huh. Never thought about it that way.”

Azzi shakes her head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige smirks. “You still like me.”

Azzi stills for half a second.

Paige doesn’t notice.

But Azzi does.

Because liking Paige is too easy.

She swallows the thought, rolling her eyes instead. “You wish.”

Paige grins. “I know.”

Azzi stands. “Come on, let’s make the sushi before you lock yourself out again.”

Paige groans. “Ugh, fine.”

Azzi heads toward the tiny kitchen space as Paige pulls herself up, watching her go.

Azzi washes her hands first. Paige doesn’t, and Azzi gives her a pointed look until she does.

It’s a small thing, but Paige kind of likes it—how Azzi just expects her to listen, to follow her lead. Like she already knows Paige will.

Azzi is focused as she reads the instructions, brows drawn in concentration, lower lip slightly tucked between her teeth. Paige should be paying attention, but instead, she leans against the counter, watching Azzi’s mouth move as she murmurs something about the rice.

She’s always been good at picking things up quickly—on the court, in school, in life—but standing here, watching Azzi prep sushi like it’s an art, Paige feels totally out of her element.

“This is the easy part,” Azzi says, rinsing the rice before setting it on the stove.

Paige hums, pretending to listen, but really, she’s still caught up in her own thoughts.

It’s almost funny.

Paige never stops talking—never has, never will—but right now, she doesn’t want to.

She just wants to watch.

The way Azzi moves, the way her hands glide effortlessly as she preps the cutting board, the way she hums lightly under her breath, completely at ease.

Paige has known her for—what, two weeks now? Three? She should not be this mesmerized.

And yet, here she is.

She hears Azzi sigh and snaps out of it.

“Are you even paying attention?” Azzi asks, exasperated but amused.

Paige grins, rubbing the back of her neck. “Define ‘paying attention’.”

Azzi shakes her head, grabbing the bamboo mat and placing it in front of Paige. “Here. You’re rolling first.”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “You trust me with this?”

Azzi considers for a moment. “Not really, but I think you should suffer a little before I show you how to really do it.”

Paige gasps dramatically. “Wow. So rude.”

Azzi grins. “I’m just being honest.”

Paige narrows her eyes, pointing at her. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe a little.”

Paige watches as Azzi spoons the rice onto the nori, smoothing it out with the back of the spoon like she’s done this a million times before.

Paige, on the other hand, is struggling.

Her rice sticks to her fingers, clumping in the most unforgivable way.

Azzi laughs. “Wet your hands first.”

Paige scowls, but does as she’s told. “You could’ve told me that before I embarrassed myself.”

Azzi grins, still not missing a beat. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Paige huffs and turns back to her roll, looking more like a disaster than a sushi chef. Her eyes keep darting to Azzi, who’s smoothly making her own roll with grace—just another moment of Paige feeling out of her depth.

But there’s something about the way Azzi moves, how at ease she is in this kitchen, that makes Paige want to keep looking.

Azzi picks up a cucumber, cutting it with swift precision. Paige notices the way the light catches her hair, the soft curls falling into place, how her eyes flick between the food and the knife, like she’s at peace.

It’s a little… distracting.

Paige feels a warmth in her chest she can’t quite place, a soft tug that she pretends not to notice.

“Okay, now roll it,” Azzi says, gesturing to Paige’s half-made roll.

Paige grabs the bamboo mat and hesitates. She tries to roll, but the thing unravels in her hands.

Azzi snickers, but it’s not mean—it’s light, like she’s amused at Paige’s stubbornness.

Paige glares. “Stop laughing and help.”

Azzi leans over, hands brushing against Paige’s as she fixes the mess Paige made. Paige freezes, feeling the heat in her face, her heartbeat quickening at the accidental touch.

But Azzi doesn’t notice.

Or maybe she does.

Because when she looks up, she lingers.

There’s something in the air then. It’s almost like time slows, the space between them filling with an almost magnetic tension. Paige feels her breath catch for a second, and she wonders if Azzi notices too.

And then, like nothing’s changed, Azzi smirks, tilting her head. “You make the easiest things so hard, piece of cake.”

Paige lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She steps back, letting Azzi work, and leans against the counter again, arms crossed.

She should be annoyed.

She should be focused.

But all she can think about is how Azzi looks when she’s in her element—calm and beautiful.

Paige should be keeping track of the roll. She should be keeping track of the task at hand. But as Azzi continues to move, Paige can’t tear her eyes away from the other woman.

Azzi flicks a strand of hair from her face as she continues assembling, making the final adjustments to Paige’s half-made sushi with delicate, practiced hands.

Paige doesn’t want to admit it—but she is mesmerized by Azzi’s quiet focus.

By how patient she is.

It’s a strange thing for Paige—because she’s never been one to wait, especially when it comes to something she wants. But there’s something about Azzi’s calmness, the way she doesn’t rush anything, that makes Paige want to sit back and let it happen.

She watches, intently, as Azzi finishes rolling, securing it with a delicate press of the bamboo mat.

“And done,” Azzi says, placing the sushi in front of Paige with a soft smile.

Paige feels herself smile back, though there’s a quiet ache behind it.

She’s a mess. She’s never been this stuck on someone before. And maybe Azzi doesn’t even know it. Maybe Azzi doesn’t even feel it. But Paige knows. She can feel it in the air between them, the quiet moments where their eyes meet.

It lingers—thick and unspoken.

Paige is still standing close, her hands resting idly against the counter, but she’s not really thinking about the sushi anymore. Not even a little.

Azzi’s eyes stay on hers for a second longer than normal, and Paige is convinced she feels it too. The shift. The weight of something unspoken pressing between them.

Then, just as quickly, Azzi looks away.

Her gaze flickers to the food, then the living room, like she needs something else to focus on. “Should we go eat now?”

Paige blinks, snapping out of her thoughts—or the trance Azzi had her in, she thinks—and forces a nod.

“Yeah,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, let’s—uh—should we put on a movie or something?”

Azzi glances at her, then shrugs, casual. “Sure.”

They grab their plates and settle onto the couch, Azzi tucking her legs beneath her while Paige scrolls through the options on the screen.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound coming from the faint clicks of the remote. Paige hesitates for a second before casually tossing out, “You ever seen Frozen?”

She already knows the answer.

Azzi’s head snaps toward her, eyes lighting up in a way that makes Paige’s stomach flip.

“Duh,” Azzi says. “It’s my favorite.”

Paige smirks, feigning surprise. “No way. Really?”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know that.”

Paige laughs, clicking on the movie. “Yeah, okay, maybe I did.”

The opening scene starts playing, and Paige watches from the corner of her eye as Azzi settles in, eyes locked on the screen like she’s seeing it for the first time.

Paige leans back, casually draping her arm along the back of the couch—not around Azzi, but close enough. She waits a few seconds, then shifts just a little closer.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige tells herself it’s fine. Normal. Two people sitting on a couch watching a movie.

Except it isn’t normal.

Not when Paige is hyperaware of every tiny movement Azzi makes. Not when she can hear Azzi murmuring along to some of the lines, her voice softer than the actual dialogue.

Not when her own pulse is way too loud in her ears.

It’s nothing.

But it’s also everything.

Paige’s fingers drum lightly against the cushion, her mind racing with thoughts she’s not sure she should be having. She focuses on the screen, but really, she’s more focused on her—on the way Azzi’s expression changes slightly during each scene, how her lips curve upward whenever Olaf appears, how she instinctively tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers when she gets comfortable.

And okay, maybe Paige lets herself stare a little too long.

Because suddenly, Azzi turns to look at her, catching her mid-stare.

Busted.

Paige barely has time to react before Azzi’s eyes flicker to her arm—still resting along the back of the couch, inches from her shoulders. Paige swears there’s a flicker of amusement in her gaze before Azzi looks back at the screen, like she’s choosing not to acknowledge it.

Paige clears her throat, shifting slightly.

She tells herself to relax, to focus on the movie, but then Azzi moves again—this time leaning in just enough that their arms brush, soft and warm.

It’s a tiny thing.

But it sends Paige’s brain into full meltdown mode.

Because suddenly, all she can think about is how easy it would be to just—do something.

To close the space. To see if Azzi would lean into her the way Paige thinks she might.

The thought alone is dangerous.

And then, as if to make things even worse, Azzi hums along to Let It Go, her voice quiet, absentminded.

Paige groans internally, tilting her head back against the couch.

She’s so, so screwed.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s not just that she met Azzi a few weeks ago. It’s that in those few weeks, she’s done things she wouldn’t normally do. She doesn’t get attached like this. She doesn’t make an effort like this.

And yet, here she was—driving Azzi to her first photoshoot before they even really knew each other, going to bookstores with her like it’s their thing, memorizing the way Azzi takes her coffee without realizing it.

Azzi had laughed when she first noticed.

“You remember my order?” she’d asked, watching as Paige handed her the cup.

Paige had shrugged, playing it off. “You act like you’re complicated. Black coffee with a splash of oat milk. Not exactly rocket science.”

Azzi had just hummed, smiling behind the rim of the cup before taking a sip. And Paige? Yeah, she’d definitely looked away too fast, heart knocking against her ribs.

It’s weird. Paige doesn’t do relationships like this. She’s had flings, sure—casual, easy, nothing that lingers. But this? Wanting to sit next to someone every time they’re in the same room? Wanting to hold them or just be in their space? She doesn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe that’s why Azzi’s here. Maybe because she doesn’t make Paige feel like she has to be anyone but herself. Maybe because she listens, really listens, even when Paige is rambling about why cereal should be considered a soup.

“Think about it,” Paige had argued one night, sitting cross-legged on Azzi’s couch. “It’s literally food floating in liquid. That’s soup.”

Azzi had just given her a look, unimpressed. “You know I’m never gonna agree with you on this, right?”

“That’s because you’re wrong,” Paige shot back, grinning.

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. Instead, she let Paige keep talking, nodding like she was genuinely considering the ridiculous debate.

And when Paige got too carried away, Azzi had just pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shhh.”

It wasn’t mocking or impatient. It was soft. Playful. And Paige? Yeah, she short-circuited immediately, brain going blank as she just stared.

Azzi had smirked, dropping her hand, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Paige had barely recovered from that, and now here they are—sitting on Paige’s couch again, watching some movie Paige is definitely not paying attention to.

They’re close, closer than usual, and every time Azzi shifts slightly, Paige feels it. The warmth of her, the brush of her knee against Paige’s.

Her hand twitches against her thigh. She clenches her fingers, trying to get her brain to chill. But then, before she even realizes it, the words slip out.

“You’re really pretty.”

Azzi blinks, turning her head toward her. Paige realizes immediately what she just said.

“Oh,” Paige blurts, eyes widening slightly. “Uh—”

Azzi doesn’t look away. Instead, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her lips.

“You just now realizing that?”

Paige opens her mouth, then closes it. She runs a hand through her hair like that’ll somehow make her feel less like a total idiot.

“I mean, no—obviously,” she says, forcing a laugh. “I just—wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Azzi hums, her expression unreadable, but Paige swears she sees something shift in her eyes.

“Guess I should say thanks, then.”

Paige lets out a weak chuckle. “I mean, you could…”

Azzi’s gaze lingers for another second before she turns back toward the screen, but the air is different now. Charged.

Paige’s fingers twitch before she lets herself reach out, resting her hand lightly against Azzi’s knee.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige’s stomach flips.

She hesitates, throat suddenly dry, before speaking. Her voice is quieter than usual, softer. “Is this okay?”

Azzi glances down at Paige’s hand, then meets her eyes again. Her expression stays unreadable for a beat too long, but then she nods.

Paige swallows, nerves buzzing under her skin.

They’re closer now—so close that Paige can feel Azzi’s breath against her lips.

Azzi shifts slightly, just a fraction of an inch, and suddenly their noses brush. Paige’s pulse stutters.

She should say something. She should—

Azzi’s fingers brush over the back of her hand, light, barely there, but Paige feels it everywhere.

The moment stretches—

And then.

Knock knock knock.

Paige freezes.

She groans as the knocking gets louder, dragging a hand down her face.

Azzi leans back into the couch, barely glancing away from the blondes face as she smirks. “I think someone wants your attention.”

Paige groans again, dramatically letting her head fall against Azzi’s shoulder. “Or, hear me out—I just don’t answer.”

Azzi pats her knee, voice light. “You should probably get that.”

The knocking persists.

Azzi raises an eyebrow, and Paige sighs heavily before finally forcing herself up, trudging to the door. Instead of opening it all the way, she cracks it just enough for her head to peek out.

KK and Caroline stand on the other side, both looking unimpressed.

“Finally,” KK huffed. “Took you long enough, bro.”

Paige blinked, eyes still adjusting. “What are you guys doing here?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Paige.”

KK gasped dramatically. “No way. Nooo way. You forgot, didn’t you?”

Paige frowned. “Forgot what?”

KK reeled back, clutching her chest. “She forgot we were coming. After we planned this like a month ago. Ridiculous. The memory of a goldfish.”

Caroline sighed, shaking her head. “I texted you this morning.”

Paige blinked. There was a vague recollection of a text she’d skimmed and ignored, but her brain had been… preoccupied. Not with basketball, not with film, not even with herself. She glanced back over her shoulder at the couch, where Azzi was still watching the movie, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding at the door.

Caroline crosses her arms. “Are you gonna let us in, or…?”

Paige hesitates, then shifts awkwardly in the doorway. “Uhhh…”

KK narrows her eyes. “Why you actin’ weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Paige says way too fast.

Paige turned back, lowering her voice. “Look, I’m kinda busy right now.”

KK squinted at her. “Busy?”

Caroline tilted her head. “Busy doing what?”

Paige shifted in place. “Just… chilling. Watching a movie.”

KK crossed her arms. “You never turn down a hangout to ‘chill.’ Who’s in there?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

KK’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh. You’re hiding something.”

Caroline smirked. “Or someone.”

Paige groaned. “Oh my god.”

KK grinned. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“No—” Paige stopped herself. “I mean, yes, but—” She exhaled sharply. “Look, just don’t be weird, okay?”

KK and Caroline exchanged glances before KK leaned in. “Who is she?”

Paige groans dramatically, dragging a hand down her face again. “Okay, first of all, y’all weren’t supposed to come today.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “We talked about this a month ago, Paige.”

Paige huffs. “Yeah, well, things have happened since then.”

KK tilts her head. “Like?”

Paige scratches the back of her head. “Like… like stuff.”

KK makes a face. “Damn. She’s lost it.”

Caroline sighs, already exhausted. “Paige, just let us in.”

Paige winces. “I will, I will, but like… just—be chill, okay? And you can’t be too loud.”

KK scoffs. “Since when do you care about being loud?”

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass.

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass. It’s for—” She stops herself, then exhales sharply. “Look, just… just keep your voices down, alright? And also, don’t, like, bombardher with questions, okay? She gets overstimulated real fast.”

KK’s eyebrows shoot up. “Her?”

Caroline gives Paige a look.

Paige realizes her mistake a second too late.

KK grins. “Nooo way.”

Paige groans. “Shut up.”

KK whistles. “Ain’t no way. P Boogers got a girl?”

Paige hushes her immediately. “Shut up.”

KK grins. “Ohhh this is huge.”

Caroline sighs. “Paige, just let us in.”

“I will, but be cool. The coolest ever.”

KK smirks. “I am cool.”

“No, you’re annoying.”

KK ignores that. “So who’s in there?”

Paige shifts on her feet. “She wasn’t expecting company. And don’t interrogate her, okay? She gets overwhelmed sometimes.”

KK stares. Paige rambles.

“She’s indecisive as hell—almost cried picking between pancakes and waffles. And she likes quiet, so please—don’t be loud.”

KK and Caroline exchange looks.

Caroline smirks. “Paaaiiigeee.”

Paige frowns. “What?”

KK grins. “You like her.”

Paige stiffens. “Mind your business.”

KK’s grin widens. “P BOOGERS HAS A GIRLFRIEND. Ohhh brother. I thought you were asexual or something.”

Paige slaps a hand over her mouth. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

KK smirks. “Then why do you know her whole life story?”

Paige groans. “I hate you.”

Caroline nods. “She’s got a point.”

Before Paige can respond—

“Paige?”

They all freeze.

Azzi peeks through the door, blinking curiously. “Is everything okay?”

Paige steps in front of KK. “Yeah! Everything’s great.”

KK grins. Paige glares.

Azzi glances between them. “Who are you talking to?”

KK steps around Paige, eyes Azzi up and down. “Ohhh, so this is what had you acting weird.”

Paige sighs. “KK, please—”

Caroline, ever polite, extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Caroline. Nice to meet you.”

Azzi hesitates, then shakes it. “I’m Azzi.”

Caroline nods. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Azzi frowns. “You have?”

KK grins. “Yeah, but not from you—from lover girl over here.” She gestures at Paige, who turns bright red.

Azzi looks at Paige in surprise. Paige stammers, “I—I don’t—”

KK cackles. “Girl, you just gave us her whole biography.”

Paige groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck me.”

Azzi, amused, watches Paige internally combust.

Paige sighs, stepping aside. “I guess y’all can come in.”

KK skips inside. “Aw, P Boogers, you’re so sweet.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into her hands.

They settle in. KK immediately snoops. “Okay, P, I see you! But damn, you still got them big-ass feet.”

Paige glares. “Put my shoe down before I make you eat it.”

Caroline eyes Frozen playing on the TV. “Frozen?” She looks at Azzi. “Your pick?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

KK smirks. “Interesting. ‘Cause last I checked, P Boogers doesn’t sit through Disney movies for just anybody.”

Paige shoots her a look. “Shut up, KK.”

Azzi, still amused, leans in. “So… lover girl?”

Paige stiffens. “Azzi.”

Azzi smiles. “I was wondering why you hesitated letting them in. Now it makes sense.”

Paige groans. “KK exaggerates everything.”

Azzi hums. “So you didn’t recite my biography five seconds ago?”

Paige presses her lips together.

Azzi raises an eyebrow.

Paige sighs. “I maybe said a few things.”

Azzi grins. “A few?”

Paige groans. “Kill me now.”

Before Azzi can respond, KK plops onto the couch—right in Paige’s spot.

Paige blinks. “Hey—”

KK stretches. “Sooo, Azzi, how do you know P?”

Azzi barely has time to answer before Paige taps her shoulder.

“Get up.”

KK feigns innocence. “Uh… why?”

Paige gestures. “That’s my seat.”

KK leans back. “Nah, I’m comfy. You can sit by Caroline.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “Move.”

“Nope.”

Paige turns to Azzi. “Tell her to move.”

Azzi opens her mouth, but KK cuts in. “Damn, P, no patience. Lemme have a turn with Azzi”

Paige doesn’t respond—just kicks KK’s shin.

KK yelps. “Ow! You violent-ass—”

Paige immediately drops onto the couch, reclaiming her spot.

KK glares. “Oh, we’re playing dirty now?”

Paige smirks, arm draped over the back of the couch. “I told you to move.”

Azzi watches, amused. “Really?”

Paige shrugs. “What? I told her to move.”

Azzi shakes her head with a soft laugh. KK groans dramatically. “Unbelievable. She’s so whipped.”

Caroline sighs. “You two are actual children.”

KK, still rubbing her leg, huffed. “And Paige is a menace.”

Paige smirked, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind Azzi. “Damn right.”

Azzi just shook her head, biting back a smile. Paige, despite the chaos, felt perfectly content right where she was.

As they settled in, KK—still rubbing her leg from Paige’s kick—got straight to the point.

“So, Azzi,” she leaned forward, eyes glinting. “How do you know P over here?”

Azzi glanced at Paige before answering, “We met on the train.”

Caroline raised a brow. “The train?”

“Yeah,” Paige cut in. “We just… started talking.”

KK squinted. “You—just started talking? Like a normal person?”

Paige huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi, amused, added, “She claimed i was stalking and she almost spoiled my book.”

“The Housemaid,” Azzi said when KK asked which one.

KK looked blank, but Caroline nodded. “That one’s pretty good.”

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, it was—”

“Was,” Paige corrected. “Until I almost ruined it.”

Azzi hummed. “I forgave you, didn’t I?”

Paige grinned. “After ten minutes of glaring at me.”

KK waved a hand. “So, you met on a train, bonded over a book, and now P is acting all weird and protective?”

“I am not—” Paige started, but KK was already squinting at her like she’d solved a puzzle.

Azzi just shrugged. “I guess?”

KK pointed at Paige. “You left us in the cold forever before letting us in. Since when do you hesitate opening the door for us?”

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it.

Caroline smirked. “She’s got a point.”

Paige groaned. “Can we move on?”

KK leaned back, smug. “Fine. But I’m circling back to this.”

Caroline turned to Azzi. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m a model,” Azzi said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

KK’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. Runway?”

“A little of everything—runway, print, campaigns, commercials. It depends.”

“Sounds intense,” Caroline said.

“It is,” Azzi admitted. “Schedules are exhausting, and there’s pressure to look perfect. Body, skin, hair—everything. Plus the traveling. I barely stay in one place.”

“Sounds like hell,” KK said bluntly.

Azzi laughed. “It has its moments.”

Paige, beside her, hadn’t stopped watching. Not just listening—studying. The way Azzi’s lips moved, the subtle gestures of her hands. Close enough to notice a stray piece of cotton on Azzi’s sweater, Paige reached out without thinking, plucking it off.

Azzi paused mid-sentence, glancing at Paige as she flicked it away like it offended her. Paige, unfazed, just nodded.

Caroline, watching, almost gagged. “Jesus Christ.”

Paige blinked. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” Caroline muttered.

KK, meanwhile, was grinning. “Nah, I see it now. P, you been starin’ at her like she hung the damn moon.”

Paige groaned. “Can y’all stop?”

Azzi, unbothered, side-eyed her. “She always does that when I’m talking.”

Paige deadpanned. “You want me to stop?”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t say that.”

Caroline rubbed her temples. “This is unbearable.”

KK cackled. “I love this.”

Paige ignored them completely, turning back to Azzi. “So, what’s been your favorite shoot so far?”

Azzi tilted her head, considering. “Probably my campaign for Dior. It was shot in Italy, and I got to wear some of the most beautiful couture pieces. It felt unreal.”

Paige nodded, still watching her like she was imagining it all in real time. “That’s sick. You gotta show me the pictures later.”

Azzi’s lips curled slightly. “I will.”

Caroline groaned. “Jesus, Paige, can you breathe?”

Paige shot her a glare. “I am breathing.”

KK leaned in, whispering loudly, “Barely.”

Caroline, ever the level-headed one, leaned back. “Since we’re all here, should we play a game or something?”

KK immediately perked up. “Ooooh, drinking game?”

Azzi blinked, looking a little hesitant. Paige noticed the way her fingers twitched slightly against her lap.

“Azzi doesn’t drink,” Paige said quickly. “So we’re not gonna pressure her into anything.”

Azzi gave her a small, appreciative look.

Caroline nodded. “Fair enough. We can do something else—like a truth-or-dare type thing. Or Azzi could just get a pass on drinking and win a date or something instead.”

KK wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooooh, now that’s an interesting twist.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige. “You’re supposed to come to my fitting tomorrow. You sure you wanna drink tonight?”

Paige blinked. “Oh… right.”

KK groaned. “Oh, come on, P. One night won’t kill you.”

Paige hesitated, then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just sit this one out.”

KK gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Who are you?”

Caroline laughed. “I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

KK shot her a look. “Okay, mom.”

Azzi, amused, just leaned in closer to Paige and whispered, “You’re really not gonna drink?”

Paige shrugged. “Gotta be sober enough to see you tomorrow, right?”

Azzi smiled. “Good answer.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s play.”

As the game began, the questions were lighthearted, mostly directed at Azzi since she was new to the group. KK and Caroline took turns grilling her on the basics—where she was from, her job, and little details to get a sense of her.

Azzi handled it well, gradually opening up with a charm that made them warm up to her quickly. Paige, sitting beside her, watched with amusement, occasionally chiming in when Azzi mentioned something she already knew.

“You don’t have a New York accent,” KK noted.

Azzi laughed. “I’m from Virginia.”

“What brought you here?” Caroline asked.

Azzi hesitated, fingers twitching briefly. “Work… and a breakup.”

KK’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

Azzi smirked. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Caroline nodded. “Smart.”

“What’s your favorite thing about modeling?” Caroline asked.

“Travel,” Azzi said. “And the clothes—I get to wear things I’d never pick for myself, like the Italy shoot, It was on a rooftop overlooking the water—it felt unreal.”

“And least favorite?”

Azzi chuckled. “Shooting in freezing weather for hours in a thin dress.”

Paige frowned. “That’s messed up. No heated blankets or something?”

Azzi turned to her, amused. “They did, but only between shots. It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige still looked unimpressed but let it go.

The game continued, shifting between personal and lighthearted topics.

“So, how’d you and Paige start actually hanging out?” Caroline asked.

Azzi and Paige exchanged a glance, clearly recalling the same memory.

Azzi smirked. “I accidentally hit her in the forehead while trying to leave my room.”

KK’s eyes widened. “What?”

Paige groaned. “It was a personal attack.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “It was an accident. She claimed I “owed” her so to make it up to her, we got food together.”

KK squinted at them. “Huh.”

Caroline raised a brow. “And the rest is history?”

Azzi shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Then the questions took a turn.

“Azzi, biggest turn-on?” Caroline asked.

“Confidence.”

“And turn-off?”

“Arrogance.”

Caroline side-eyed Paige. “Oof, close call, P.”

Paige pointed at her. “I will actually fight you.”

Azzi, amused, turned to Paige. “You think you’re arrogant?”

Paige hesitated. “…No?”

KK and Caroline burst into laughter.

Then, KK smirked. “Paige, what’s your type?”

Paige stiffened. “Why does that matter?”

“Because we’re nosy.”

Azzi glanced at her, waiting.

Paige cleared her throat. “Uh… driven people?”

Caroline smirked. “She means brunettes .”

Paige groaned as KK nearly fell over laughing. Azzi arched a brow, amused.

KK’s next question was worse. “Azzi, if you had to go on a date with someone in this room, who would it be?”

Paige tensed, forcing herself to stay neutral.

Azzi looked around casually, then smiled. “KK. She seems like she’d make it fun.”

KK beamed. “Knew I had charm.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected that. The flash of something unreadable in Azzi��s eyes didn’t go unnoticed, but she said nothing.

Paige forced a smile. “Of course. You’d want someone who keeps things interesting.”

She took a sip of her drink, chest tightening, as Azzi leaned back, studying the room with her usual quiet confidence.

—

The room was slowly quieting down as Caroline and KK stood up, stretching and grabbing their jackets. The game had wound down, the laughter still hanging in the air as they started to say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you girls in the tomorrow, alright?” Caroline grinned, her eyes landing on Azzi. “This was fun. You’re a lot cooler than I expected.”

Azzi laughed, her smile warm. “Thanks, Caroline. You’re not so bad yourself.”

KK smirked, wrapping Azzi in a big, affectionate hug. “You’re my new best friend,” she said dramatically, squeezing her tight. “Get ready for all the shit I’m gonna drag you into.”

Azzi smiled against her shoulder, feeling the comfort of KK’s warm embrace. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Alright, alright, lets go KK,” Caroline teased, pulling KK away and waving as they headed for the door.

Paige and Azzi stood by the bed, the weight of the night settling between them. Azzi glanced back before leaving. “Goodnight, you two. Sleep well,” she said with a soft smile.

“Night,” Paige mumbled, quieter than usual.

When the door clicked shut, Paige immediately started cleaning. Azzi joined her without a word, their movements in sync, comfortable in the quiet. It felt natural—like they’d been doing this for years.

As Azzi wiped down the counter, she realized how much she liked this—the quiet, the ease of being in Paige’s space. It felt like home in a way she hadn’t expected.

Once everything was put away, Azzi grabbed her purse, ready to leave. But Paige lingered by the bed, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Azzi noticed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her purse down again.

Paige hesitated, then exhaled. “You can’t stay a little longer?”

Azzi blinked, surprised. Paige’s vulnerability caught her off guard.

“It’s late, and we both need sleep,” Azzi reasoned gently. “The fitting’s at nine. And you know how grumpy you get in the morning.”

Paige groaned. “Then stay here…We can grab your stuff in the morning.”

Azzi hesitated, warmth creeping up her neck at the thought. But she nodded. “Fine. But I need pajamas.”

Paige tossed her an oversized T-shirt and shorts. “Here,” she said, heart racing. “These should fit.”

Azzi changed and slipped into bed beside Paige. Just as they settled in, Azzi poked her head out from under the covers. “I can only sleep on the right side.”

Paige frowned. “You… want me to move?”

Instead of waiting, Azzi crawled over Paige—right across her body. Paige’s breath hitched, her face burning as Azzi’s (plump) ass rose in the air. Turning her face the other way quickly as Azzi settled beside her.

“You okay?” Azzi asked.

Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah. Just… hot.”

Azzi chuckled. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” Paige murmured, though her mind raced with thoughts she had no business thinking.

—

Paige woke first, the warmth of a body pressed against hers making her heart stutter. Azzi was draped over her, breath soft against her neck, leg hooked over her own. Paige wasn’t used to waking up like this.

She turned slightly, taking in Azzi’s peaceful expression, messy hair, lips slightly parted. It made her forget, just for a second, how they ended up tangled together.

Azzi stirred, eyes fluttering open. Realizing their position, she pulled back abruptly. “Oh! Sorry sorry,” she whispered, cheeks flushing.

Paige smirked. “It’s okay. How’d you sleep?”

Azzi rubbed her eyes. “Your bed is way more comfortable than mine.”

Paige chuckled. “Then we should have more sleepovers.”

Azzi laughed, grabbing her bag. “We’ll see. Meet me in my room when you’re ready.”

Paige nods, the word slipping out before she can even process it. “Yes, ma’am.” Her heart skips a beat at how easy it is to fall into a rhythm with Azzi.

Azzi flashes her a quick, teasing wink as she slips on her shoes and walks out the door. Paige watches her go, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she immediately misses the warmth of Azzi’s touch.

But there’s no time for that now. She groans, pushing herself out of bed, not used to waking up at this hour. 7:30. It’s early. Way too early. But, then again, here she is—getting up at this ungodly hour for a fitting with Azzi Fudd. The things you do for love. Well, not love… but, something like it.

She drags herself to the bathroom, hoping a warm shower will wake her up fully. The steam clears her head a bit, and she quickly dresses in the Fenty set Azzi got her. Another perk of having such a famous friend. She spritzes on her Valentino perfume, the same one Azzi always compliments her on. It’s become a signature scent now, one she associates with the brunette. Every time she catches a whiff of it, she thinks of Azzi.

With everything ready, she heads out of her hotel room. Her key’s on the dresser, still resting where she left it. But, once again, she decides not to grab it. She’s gotten away with leaving it before, and frankly, she likes it that way. It means she gets to spend more time with Azzi. Maintenance might get mad, but—oh well. She’ll deal with the consequences later.

Paige walks down the hall to Azzi’s room, knocking gently on the door. Azzi opens it almost immediately, looking effortlessly chic in her matching Fenty set. Paige’s heart skips a beat, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You ready to go?” Paige asks, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to let the excitement bubble up too much.

Azzi nods, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walk out of the building, heading to Paige’s car. It’s a comfortable silence between them, the only sound the soft hum of the car as Paige pulls out. She glances over at Azzi, wondering if she should ask if she wants to stop for anything before they get to the fitting.

“Want to grab anything first?”

Azzi shook her head. “They’ll have breakfast there.”

As they pull up to the building, Azzi’s attention is drawn to something outside the window. She taps Paige’s arm a little too hard, making Paige jump.

“What? What?!” Paige says, looking over at her.

Azzi points, eyes wide with concern. “Look at that poor thing,” she says, voice full of pity.

Paige follows her gaze, spotting a small brown wiener dog sitting by the side of the building. Azzi’s face softens, and her heart melts at the sight of the little dog, alone on the sidewalk.

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head firmly, a small grin forming on her lips. “Not happening.”

Azzi pouts, her lower lip jutting out as she leans closer to Paige, her voice soft and pleading. “Please, Paige. Look at it. It’s so lonely.”

Paige rolls her eyes, trying to stay firm. “Azzi, this is the third time. You can’t save every dog.”

But Azzi’s eyes are impossibly wide, her pout deepening. She leans in even closer, nearly whispering in Paige’s ear. “Every dog deserves a home, Paige. Please… just let me take this one. It’s so cute, and it’s so alone.”

Paige groaned, already knowing she was going to cave. “Fine. But you owe me.”

Azzi’s face lights up, her joy so infectious that Paige can’t help but smile, too. Without hesitation, Azzi runs toward the little dog, crouching down to speak softly. “It’s okay, little one. You’re coming home with me.”

The dog wags its tail furiously, rubbing against Azzi’s hand. Paige watches, arms crossed, chuckling to herself. Azzi scoops the dog up like it’s the most precious thing in the world and turns to Paige. “Come on,” she grins. “Let’s go.”

With the dog in Azzi’s arms, they head into the building, the door swinging open behind them. They make their way to Azzi’s fitting station, Paige now with the dog in her lap as they sit off to the side, quietly eating fruit. Azzi’s designer arrives shortly, and the fitting begins.

As Azzi tries on different outfits, Paige’s attention drifts, unable to stop staring. She knows she’s supposed to be watching the fitting, but all she can think about is how incredibly beautiful Azzi looks in everything. She watches the way Azzi moves, how the clothes seem to fit her just right, the way her hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders. Paige can’t stop herself, even though she knows she should.

She absently scratches the dog’s ears, trying to keep her composure, but she’s failing miserably.

“Ugh,” Paige mutters to the dog, more to herself than anything. “She just… makes me so nervous. And I don’t get nervous a lot, you know?”

The dog tilts its head up at her, as if listening, but Paige doesn’t wait for a response. She’s too wrapped up in Azzi’s effortless beauty, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t even begin to process. “I mean, I know we just met, but you can tell me you don’t see the connection, right? I’m not crazy for thinking there’s something there?”

“Right, you’re a dog,” she continues, her voice softer now, almost whispering. “We just got you off the side of the street. What is wrong with me?”

She sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that feels like it could sink her into the floor. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but everything about Azzi just does it for her. Her legs, her smile, the way she carries herself—it’s all too much, and yet Paige can’t stop staring.

She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the way her body reacts just from being near Azzi—just from seeing her in these clothes. Paige is almost drooling, but she quickly pulls herself together, though she’s definitely not fooling anyone, especially not herself.

By the time the shoot wraps up, Paige feels something heavy in her chest. She watches Azzi cradle the dog, warmth in her eyes, and wishes—just for a second—that look was meant for her.

As they head to the exit, Paige checks her phone and groans. “Flat tire.”

Azzi glances over, unfazed. “Guess we’re taking the train, then.”

Paige sighs, but Azzi just smiles. “Maybe it’s fate.”

Azzi leads the way, the dog still curled up in her arms, as they make their way toward the subway station. The quiet between them settles comfortably, the low rumble of the train and the soft shuffle of the dog’s paws the only sounds breaking the silence. But for Paige, the air is thick with something she can’t ignore. Something she doesn’t want to ignore.

The train pulls up, and they step inside, the vibrations sending a slight tremor through Paige’s chest. Her mind begins to race, replaying all the moments they’ve shared—those casual, easy conversations, the effortless way Azzi could make her laugh. The way she smiled at her today, the way she treated the dog with so much care, so much love, like she genuinely cared about everything, everyone, in her orbit. And oh, god, the way she laughed.

Paige can feel it now, her heart racing, her palms clammy as she looks at Azzi, trying to steady her thoughts. This is happening, she thinks. She can’t pretend anymore. She’s felt this pull since that first encounter, when Azzi had sat across from her on the subway, looking at her like she’d known her for years.

She opens her mouth to speak, but they come out all wrong. “Azzi…” she starts, and her voice feels smaller than usual, maybe because this feels like one of the most vulnerable things she’s ever done. “Okay I— I know this might sound a little insane, but I can’t stop thinking about it. You.”

Azzi looks at her, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

Paige hesitates but pushes through. “I like you. Like a lot. Since the moment you sat across from me on the train and I can’t keep pretending I don’t.” She meets Azzi’s eyes, feeling the weight of her own confession. “I just need to know if you feel the same, so I don’t end up looking like a lunatic Az.”

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Paige…” A small smile tugs at her lips. “I like you too.”

Paige blinks. “Wait. What?”

Azzi laughs. “I’ve liked you since… well we met, probably more since you made that weird face when I mentioned going out with KK.” She nudges Paige playfully. “I just didn’t know if it was too soon.”

Paige feels her heart skip a beat, and a rush of relief floods her chest. “So… you’d want to go out with me? For real?”

Azzi nods, that smile growing wider, reaching her eyes. “Of course, yeah.”

Paige feels like she’s floating, her heart doing something that feels like a cartwheel. She can’t help it—without thinking, she leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s like the world has fallen away, just the two of them in that moment, exploring this thing that’s been quietly building between them. When they pull away, they both just… smile.

Paige can’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Also I forgot my hotel key again…”

Azzi rolls her eyes, grinning. “Paige. Seriously?”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #rosemariiaa

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fireinmoonshot · 3 days ago

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drabble dump 1 | joaquín torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: Three small drabbles inspired by your headcanons (and one of mine): Joaquín giving you flowers, crying during movies and following his fans online. Warnings: I don't think there are any. Word Count: 691 A/N: I'm feeling super tired tonight so I didn't have the energy to focus on a larger fic, so I decided to write a couple of smaller drabbles inspired by some of the headcanons you guys left on that post I made the other day as well as one of my own. I will probably end up doing a few posts like this since they're quite fun. They're really just smaller drabbles that don't necessarily need to be longer 1k+ fics, so I hope you guys find them fun!

Giving you flowers.

The first time Joaquin ever met you, he brought you flowers. He had no idea what your favourite type of flowers were or if you even liked flowers. But he wanted to make a good impression on you on your first date and flowers had seemed the way to go.

He’d been raised well by his parents. His mother had always taught him to be a gentleman and he’d grown up hearing stories from his father all about how he won over his mother with flowers and gifts and many, many dates.

Joaquin intended to do the same thing to you. He liked you from the very moment he met you, and so he made a deal with himself – every date, he would bring you a bouquet of flowers that was different from the last. He wouldn’t repeat anything and he would get more and more creative with each bouquet.

Because if Joaquin was going to win you over like his father won over his mother, he was going to put in as much effort as it took. He was certain that you were the one.

Reading comments about himself online.

Joaquin laughed, looking down at his phone screen. He was silent for a moment and then he laughed again. You looked at him, sitting in bed beside him. Your book was open in front of you but you couldn’t help but want to know what was so funny.

“What are you looking at?” You asked.

He looked over at you and then shuffled a little closer towards you in bed, angling his phone screen to you so you could look at it. “I’m just reading comments about Falcon,” he explained. “Look at this one – the old Falcon has nothing on the new guy. Did you see the way he kicked that guy right out of the air in one shot? That’s about me!”

You looked at your boyfriend for a moment and then laughed. “How many of these fan accounts do you follow, baby? Wait – is that an edit of you? Where did they even get that footage? I didn’t think you posted anything on social media.”

Joaquin’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t… but I do have a fan account… for myself… and sometimes I post videos on there and call them ‘never before seen content’ and the fans really love them. As long as they don’t put two and two together and realise I’m the one posting them…”

Sobbing while he watches a movie.

Ever since you met Joaquin you knew that deep down, the man was a softie at heart. If you cried, odds were he was going to start crying as well. If you were happy, he was happy too. Your emotions always rubbed off on him. But there was one thing about him that you never expected: the fact that he cries like a baby in movies that aren’t even that sad.

“Baby,” you glanced over at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “Are you crying?”

He sniffed, wiping his cheeks. “No.”

You leant a little closer to him and smiled to yourself as he attempted to hide his face from you. But you were too quick – you could see the tears falling down his cheeks.

“Baby.”

Joaquin looked at you, his sad puppy dog eyes almost making you throw your arms around him and pull him into a hug to make him feel better. The man always did a good job at throwing you off with puppy dog eyes, but it was worse when they were full of tears.

“I thought it was going to be a happy ending,” he muttered. “But they didn’t even get to have a proper life together in the end because of what happened to her! It’s so sad.”

Tears continued falling down his cheeks and you couldn’t help but shuffle a little closer to him to wrap an arm around his back as he sobbed into his hands. You rubbed his back gently, resting your head against his shoulder.

“It’s just a movie, baby. It’s okay. It’s not real.”

Joaquin let out another sob. “But it felt so real”

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x you #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america brave new world #falcon

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unluckilyimnot · 2 days ago

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slow morning w/ sae, rin, hiori, kaiser

note: Omori's Kel mentioned, pet name 'love' used with Hiori. After some time writing for them, i thought i'll get back to it with something cute. i just read the chapters i missed, i'm in a huge bllk brainrot again

m.list | rules

Sae

It rarely happens, Sae staying in bed after 7 in the morning – that's usually the later he can handle. So when you feel his arms wrapped around you again after you roll to the other side, leaving him space to get up slowly after you feel him switch, there's a warm feeling spreading through your body. You turn around, nesting your head on the crock of his neck with small, bubbling sounds that make his heart soften every time. He holds you closer, if possible, and you swear if you could you'll start purring the second his fingers go through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly without touching any sensible era. You feel your mind drifting away slowly again, but you don't resist it. Instead you enjoy his soft attention until you fall asleep again.

When you wake up, Sae's sitting on the edge of the bed by your side. His hand goes kindly through your hair again, but this time he's fully dressed and you can smell coffee on his hand when it brushes your cheek.

"Breakfast's ready," he said rather blankly but you perceive the softness in his eyes. You rub against his hand.

"What time is it ?"

"Around 9 and a half ." There's no way on earth he's waiting this long.

"You've eaten already?"

"No." You can't help but smile at his words, feeling your heart skipping a beat. He really waited for you.

So got up quickly, putting on some shorts and one of his sweaters he kindly handed you before following him to the living room. Breakfast is settled on the low table in front of the TV playing whatever kid shows aired at that time. On the rare morning and breakfast you share with Sae, it is an obligation to watch this – that helps him clear his mind, he says, since he doesn't have to think.

You sit next to him and pull your tray on his tights, wandering around it a little before eating some rice first. You could find all the things you liked, along with some rice because he'll never put that away.

Keeping only your cup of coffee after being done with most of the food on the tray, you put it back to the table and lay on his shoulder, enjoying the small contact the best. Enjoying this whole morning at its fair value, because you had no idea when this would happen again.

Kaiser

"We have to get up," Michael said seriously for like, the fifth time, but you still wouldn't get up from your lying state on top of his body. He's so warm and cuddly, how could he ask you that ?

"Not yet," you mumble, face down in his chest.

"It's literally 11," he objected, desperate to just get up and get, at least, his running routine done today. "Don't 'no yet' me. I have things to do."

Without any warnings, he tossed you to the side and went straight to the window, opening the shutters. You shouted at him not to, but it was too late and when he looked back at you again, you were now just a ball below the cover, whining at the "holy light". He held his laugh, he couldn't let you know how cute and funny you were while doing this when he was, supposedly, mad at you. But God he loved it.

Without any further goals in this room, he left for the kitchen and started making your breakfast for you until you were ready to face the sunlight. It never took you too long, so he wasn't worried. He took his time, putting coffee on the heat stove until it was ready, preparing both your salty and sweet parts of it along his, despite not eating the same things. Before he was even done, your arms were already wrapped around his waist, still whining at the light burning your eyes.

He really liked it, morning like this. It was dear to his heart, sweet moments with you that was worth putting his career aside for a day. He was scared he got too used to it, scared this could vanish but, still, he couldn't imagine a world without you anymore.

Hiori

On his resting days, Hiori likes to lay in bed longer than he should. He becomes one with the blanket, looking more like a giant worm than your boyfriend. You know he'd die to have you stuck in his arms until he's fully awake, which you don't mind most of the time, but the rare time you're awake before him it's a living nightmare not being able to simply turn around and take your phone to wait. So you flee away from the bed without making any noises, getting dressed in the living room so you can be the one, for once, making breakfast.

You took your time, leaving him to enjoy his day off a little longer but you still couldn't let him sleep all day – he'll be mad at himself. Preparing it all, you cracked some eggs and let them cook before moving to toast some bread and cut avocados. You make sure to not boil the water for his tea, preparing it last in fact to be sure he has it while it's still fuming like he likes.

It was almost done when his arms held you from behind, his head laying on top of yours. You turned the kettle on, his cup only waiting for the warm water.

"Are you ok with avocado toast ? We still had two that were done. It didn't want to waste them," you started but your rumble fell into deaf ears when his lips began drawing patterns along your neck, straight to your shoulder, making you giggle.

"That's perfect," he answered, purring in your ear when his face rested on your shoulder, looking down at the pretty plate you just made. "Thank you, love."

You can't help but look away, even if he can't really see you. You pull him with you when you move, since he's glued to your back now it seems. You pour his drink, and proceed to ask him where he wants to eat ; you're not surprised when he murmurs in front of the let's play you two started not so long ago.

"You put this on and I bring it all there ?" you proposed cheerfully. He lets you go with a grunt, kissing your head quickly before leaving with you on his tracks with two cups. He already saw it, but he loves the story so much he wanted to share it with you. You actually liked it a lot, it was easy to watch and the story was amazing. You two easily spend hours sitting in front of it.

"I'm so sad Kel loses his rock," you commented, your breakfast long forgotten and his arms holding you close.

"Yeah, I was too the first time," he grinned, kissing your head again. "Don't worry, he'll get over it though."

You nod, believing him.

Rin

A slow morning with Rin is whatever he wants it to be, so if you ask anyone else, they would tell you that this has nothing to do with a slow morning. He wakes up early, no matter how hard you try to keep him in bed with you – but you know you're getting better at it 'cause it's harder every time for him to say no. He takes a long shower, washing his hair thoughtfully and taking care of his skin. He spends a lot of time in the bathroom, between shaving and doing his skincare, before doing some meditation in the living room so he knows it won't bother your sleep.

By the time he's done, you're usually awake but still groggy, he has to be patient with you. You always fo for him, it doesn't matter if he's barely done or packing his appetite mattress, you'll always lay on him or grab him from behind with a tired hello.

You try to help him cook but you always end up sitting still, half sleeping on the table with a fuming cup of whatever you felt like having this morning ; of course he made it for you.

The thing is, Rin wants to be done with his routine before you wake up, that way he can let himself enjoy doing nothing in your company for a few hours without feeling bad or in a rush. He likes taking care of you, making things for you, it doesn't matter if you feel like it was too much. You have no idea how much you give him in return. Even if you were not fully awake, you always were the best company he could wish for. You talk about your weird dreams, bring back old situations to talk this out again even if he barely answers you sometimes.

"That was something for sure, what happened next ?" He asked, giving you your plate and sitting next to you with his, listening to your creepy dream.

It never gets boring, he always likes to listen to you talking nonsense in the morning.

"Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie," he commented.

"The beginning ?" you gasped, flabbergasted. "More like the most scary scene, please I felt so, so deranged."

By now you're fully awake and you start doing bigger gestures, give him dirty looks when he disagrees with you and he doesn't do everything he can so you don't see the way he smiles at you.

So no, his slow morning isn't what most people think it is. But simply having time to talk with you in the morning, without thinking of anything else, is his own definition.

Let me know if you liked it!

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock #bllk headcanons #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser fluff #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin fluff #hiori yo x reader #hiori x reader #hiori fluff

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daydreamingimagines · 2 days ago

Text

dogs, deers and rats?

you tell sirius how you feel about dogs.... safe to say he gets much too defensive about it.

poly!marauders x reader

genre: fluff

words: 1.1k

a/n: this is repost, bc my acc got deleted, I will miss you 900 notes...

"Hello-" before the words could leave your mouth, a limp body has thrown itself at you with a thump on the bed.

"Sirius, what the hell?" The words leave your mouth, but your hands find themselves in his hair as usual, removing strands of them from his face to see him more clearly. He looks up from where he had buried his face and leans to press his lips to yours. He breaks it off for a second just to say, "I missed you so much, my sweetest angel," and kisses you again.

"Oi, let us see her face too." says James as he settles himself beside Remus on the couch after he had draped a blanket over Remus. He didn't look that bad, but the tired and weary expression on his face was unmistakable.

You were treading water as you looked at Remus and extended a hand to beckon him to you, but Sirius was quick to snatch it to himself and say,

"No, first me, then you can do whatever." Sirius says as he wraps himself around you even closer, but you only laugh and say,

"Your time never ends, Sirius."

He lets out a scuff of disbelief before resorting to kissing your neck and shoulders, no answer to your accusation.

"What happened?" You ask James and Remus, breaking them from their conversation.

James was quick to answer, "Oh our dear Moony got himself into a tussle with this giant dog. Scratched him up a bit." For some odd reason, Remus only laughed at this.

"Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?" You ask, your voice incredulous, mostly because that sounds like something Sirius, or James would do, not Remus.

Worry and annoyance both flooded your brain, but the former took over and you made a movement to get up and go towards Remus, but that was hard to do when you had a whole human being draped around you.

"Sirius, get off of me." He whined in defense and only tightened his grip and responded, "Don't worry about him, he's fine."

"I'm alright, sweetheart." Remus assures you from his seat, "And I'd rather just stretch for a while." He stretches his shoulders back and a groan of relief escapes him.

You take that as a confirmation and settle down, still skeptical of his answer. The silence doesn't go on for too long before you speak up,

"See, this is why I don't like dogs."

To someone else, it would've seemed like this was the biggest breaking news ever because Sirius stopped his ministrations and immediately distanced himself from you. Remus' eyebrows were raised with an amused smile, and James was looking directly at Sirius with a somewhat pitiful face.

"What did you say?" He asks, his voice flabbergasted.

You looked dumbfounded as if a deer in headlights by his dramatic question,

"I said I don't like dogs that much."

"Angel, how could you say that?" He asks, his eyes holding an expression of betrayal, a bit too dramatic.

You chuckle at his question, and say,

"I didn't know you had such dispositions for dogs." Your eyebrow raised in amusement as a smile adorned your lips.

James was pissing himself laughing on the couch, his hands clutching his chest to catch his breath. You looked at him, your expression amused and confused.

"How could you not like dogs? They're-" his hands fumble around as if to prove a point, "They're lovely!" You roll your eyes, having heard that argument, as if that's enough of an explanation.

"I'm not saying they're not lovely, they're just, you know," you shrug, "not for me."

Sirius' jaw hung open in disbelief and James was now on the half on the floor and half on the couch as his laugh got higher and higher.

"This is the funniest thing I will ever witness." He struggles to get out in between fits of laughter.

"What the hell is so funny?" You asked, feeling a bit out of the loop as to why this is such a big deal.

"It's just they're so clingy, and loud and obnoxious. I just want to come home and relax, and not have someone jumping through hoops for my attention." You continued to explain yourself, looking around for answers.

Now it was Remus' turn to release a bark of laughter as he joined James in his world. Tears had formed around Remus' eyes, his face red and James' glasses were nearly falling off, but he didn't seem to care. Remus could not get over how you had just described Sirius, just in a different form.

"Shut up, you two." Sirius barked at James and Remus which only caused their joy to increase. He turned to regard you,

"Angel, take it back, say you don't mean that."

Now even you were laughing at the situation.

"Don't you think you're taking this a bit too personally?"

James was now punching the sofa cushion as Remus' head fell back, his entire body shaking with laughter, "How else would he take it?" he says, to whom in particular you're not sure.

"Well, it's because they're lovely. Dogs are great." He defends himself, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Well I'm happy you've found your passion for animals, but dogs aren't my favourite. I'm sorry, okay?"

You extend your hand to touch his face, a form of apology, but he only pulls away,

"I can't believe you'd say that to my face, angel." He put his hands in in defense, "And fuck you two, too." He says to James and Remus. Remus was wiping his tears and James was adjusting his glasses, finally breaking their spell of laughter.

Sirius had refused your affections(which he regretted deeply now), because he now saw James take the opportunity and settle himself on your lap. He was still grinning like a maniac, much to Sirius' annoyance, when he suddenly asked,

"What do you think about deers, or stags?" You stopped running your hands through his hair as pure confusion filled your brain,

"What kind of question IS THAT?" Now it was Sirius' turn to laugh, as he clapped his hands in delight,

"I'm just asking! I can't have your opinion?" He says, forcing your hands to comb through his hair again, but your mind couldn't figure out how the conversation goes from dogs to deers.

"I don't know James, I don't think about deers that often."

"You wound me, princess." says James dramatically, as he imitates being stabbed in his heart.

"What about rats?" You heard from the door, seeing Peter come in. He must have heard a little bit of their conversation.

His question only confused you further, if that was even possible.

"You went from dogs, to deers, and now rats." You raise your hands in defeat,

"I can't do this anymore"

Remus throws his head back laughing, his eyes crinkled, and you think that might be the only good thing to come out of the whole debacle.

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #hp #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders

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typingtess · 2 days ago

Photo

Deeks and Rosa were sitting in a waiting room while Rosa's immigration lawyer was dealing with some paperwork snafu before her interview with her immigration case worker. Deeks was in a suit and tie, Rosa in a lovely blue Calvin Klein dress Kensi found on sale at Macy's. Kensi was at Camp Pendleton testifying in a trial. She was waiting for his text.

"I found your wedding album while I was helping Kensi cleaning her box called 'stuff'," Rosa told Deeks as they waited.

"Our anniversary is next week. It's good to know it survived the move two-years ago."

"That's why Kensi was cleaning up her 'stuff' boxes in the garage. Part of her anniversary gift to you."

"Part?" Deeks was really interested now. "Oh, tell me the other part. I can fake being surprised."

"Where's the fun in that? Just be surprised."

"Please." Deeks pled.

"No. I'm staying out of this."

"You're in. You know what Kensi is getting me, tell me and we're all even."

"To be even, you'd have to tell me what you're getting Kensi."

"Well, it's a surprise." And Rosa was a part of part of it. He booked a Mother's Day spa weekend at Two Bunch Palms in Palm Springs for Kensi and Rosa. He also got the annual Moshe call after Valentine's Day with a good price for some piece of jewelry that didn't move. This year it was dangly earrings with diamonds. "So if you won't share, you'll get nothing and like it."

"'Caddyshack'."

"See, you are catching up on all the good movies. Next Friday, I say we do 'Clueless'."

"I wouldn't mind watching 'Bend Like Beckham' again."

"Again? You have it on Hulu all the time."

"Because it's great."

"You'll like 'Clueless'. Kensi loves 'Clueless'."

"The way she loves '13 Going on 30'?" Rosa asked.

"Kensi doesn't love anything the way she loves '13 Going on 30'."

"That's not true, she loves you more than that movie," Rosa had a big smile. "She showed me all the pictures in the wedding album. Told me about what happened that day."

"It was a day."

"She looked beautiful. You looked handsome in your tuxedo. Mandy was so pregnant."

"The only weird thing that didn't happen in that wedding and reception was Mandy going into labor. She held that off for three more days."

"Why did your Mom wear black?"

"It was a much better dress than the purple one she originally bought. Deep v-neck, open back and the dress ended about halfway down her thigh. It was a lot."

"Julia looked beautiful."

"Yes she did. Not as beautiful as her daughter…"

"Did you know you'd always marry her?"

"No, we needed to work through some things but once we did, I knew she was my last girlfriend and my only wife."

"That's romantic in a very strange way."

"Please put that on my tombstone, 'He was romantic in a very strange way.'"

"Don't talk like that." Rosa looked at her hands for a second. "Do you think Gregory can fix the paperwork problems."

"I haven’t heard any yelling so Gregory is likely making progress." Deeks saw Gregory T. Coates III, immigration lawyer to the stars who does some pro-bono work for Los Angeles uniformed services members, military and those involved in education, making a bee-line to them.

"Those fu…..fools finally got the paperwork right," Gregory said as he sat next to Rosa. "Your interview will start in a few minutes. All the letters of recommendation are in, your school records are up to date, including your first round of SATs. You're in a very good place, Rosa. Go in, be yourself, be calm and remember, Kensi, Marty and I are all here to fight for you. You be you and you'll be great, kid."

"Thank you," Rosa smiled.

"You," he pointed to Deeks. "Keep your mouth shut. It's her show. You answer questions directly asked to you. Don't be cute, don't be funny, don't be…"

"Don't be me." Deeks was not offended.

"You can be you the minute this is over and you're taking me to dinner."

"Rosa Diaz," an assistant walked up to the three of them. "We're ready for you."

Deeks gave Rosa a peck on the cheek. "And you're ready for them." The three walked to the interview room with the assistant. Deeks didn't think he'd spend the Friday before his anniversary in an immigration office but there was no place else he'd rather be.

It’s a love s t o r y! - Densi Wedding

ncisla

#sugaharaf #NCIS: Los Angeles #NCIS: LA #head canon #NCIS Los Angeles #ncis la #kensi blye #rosa diaz #marty deeks

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zosin-ya · 2 days ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 14 - ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

Summary: You call an emergency meeting with your friends to figure out how to deal with Law’s unhinged ex—who crossed the line by sending two punks to break into your home. The discussion quickly turns chaotic, with no real solution in sight. But amidst the frustration and tension, something shifts. The situation brings out a side of you that no one, not even you, had fully realized before.

Tags: Law x Reader, Modern Au, the gang with penguin shachi nami and bonney, Reader dominating Law ♡ n.sfw

a.n.: I'm back from the fucking dead, took me a good while. Personal life had me in a sexy choke hold. Anyway hope you enjoy the smut which is like 4k words long opsi...Enjoy! ♡

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

“Damn nice, Y/N! High five!”

“It’s not fucking nice, you idiots!”

Nami’s hand snapped sharply across the back of Shachi and Penguin’s head, cutting their excitement short about you wielding Kikoku like a hero in some cliche action movie, even though you didn't one. The two were still grinning like fools, impressed that you’d scared those punks away, but Nami wasn't in for cheers, clearly.

“This is serious!”

You sat across from them in the armchair, your arms folded tightly over your chest, unconsciously protecting yourself. You were starting to regret even telling your friends, but at the same time, there was a small sense of relief. Knowing that they were aware of what had happened made you feel less...alone.

“Yeah, it’s not funny—ouch! What the fuck Nami?!”

“And you-!” Nami whipped around to point at Law, her anger now zeroing in on your boyfriend who just came back from work. He almost regretted coming home. His ears were already ringing. “What were you thinking with that whole ‘let me go to their place and work out a deal’ crap? What’s wrong with you?!”

"I was trying to fix things!" Law shot back, his voice edged with frustration. He barely had the energy to argue, but the accusation grated on his nerves.

With a tired sigh, he dropped into a chair, yanking off his helmet and tossing it into some forgotten corner. After hours of exhaustion, the last thing he needed was a lecture testing what little patience he had left.

“Fix things? Fix things?! You’re lucky you didn’t get stabbed, dumbass!”

“Not gonna lie Law, I didn’t see that one coming,” Bonney chimed in, crossing her legs as she lounged against the couch. Her face was painted with equal parts disbelief and judgment. “That area’s shady as hell. What were you even hoping to accomplish by showing up there?”

You silently agreed Bonney’s words. As much as you appreciated Law’s protectiveness, what he’d done was reckless. Whatever information he was looking for, you could’ve told him—if you hadn’t been too shaken up that night to give him the full story.

“Yeah, seriously,” Penguin added, still rubbing the back of his head where Nami had landed her hit. “What kind of ‘help’ could they even offer?”

“I don’t know, alright? It felt like having them on our side wasn’t the worst idea. Yuki’s clearly up to something illegal.”

“Oh great, so hiring two random thugs who also do illegal shit is your genius plan?” Nami shot back, her tone was dripping with furious sarcasm.

“Nami’s right,” Bonney agreed yet again, tossing her hands up. “Besides, you’ve got Shachi and Penguin. No need for hired muscle. Those two are perfectly capable for stupid shit.”

“Hey what's that supposed to mean?!”

"I'm not going to drag my friends into illegal matters!"

“Oh for fuck’s sake, this isn’t helping!” Nami cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand, and no one was actually being helpful.

“Well then you come up with something better!” Penguin shot back defensively.

“How about—oh, I don’t know—calling the cops?”

“With what evidence?” "You got three witnesses don't you?" "Yea, nah forget about that. I promised them to not call the cops on them." "Why?!" "It was a deal for fucks sake!" "Fuck your stupid deal!"

The room spiraled into overlapping voices as everyone tried to argue their point, while you watched from the sideline. Frustration buzzed like static electricity, and the longer it went on, the tighter your chest felt. You couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.

“Enough, please!”

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at you, the sudden sound of your voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. You let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sit up straighter.

“Yelling at each other isn’t helping. And neither is reckless shit like barging into their place...”

Law’s gaze softened slightly, but he didn’t respond.

“...Nor trying to call the cops on someone who clearly knows what she’s doing,” you continued, casting a glance at Nami.

Nami opened her mouth but hesitated. The edge in her voice disappeared, her expression shifting to something more grounded. “What’s your plan, then?

You leaned your head back into the armchair, exhaling slowly. For the first time, you felt a little more in control, a little more sure of yourself. The panic that had gripped you earlier was gone, replaced with something steadier, sharper.

This wasn’t about Law, not really. It wasn’t even about you, not in the way it seemed on the surface.

It was all about control.

She was proving the power she held over you—how effortlessly she could manipulate your emotions and those of everyone around you. First, she tricked you with her charm. Then, she turned Law’s parents against you. And finally, she even deceived two completely uninvolved people—Kid and Killer—just to terrify you. While doing all of that, she also proved just how untouchable she was. And so, you were left completely hopeless at her mercy.

But you refused to give her that satisfaction any longer.

"I'm going to play by her rules," you said suddenly, your voice steady—calm, but unshakable.

The words hung in the air like a bombshell.

“What?!”

“You can’t be serious..."

“Y/N, don’t let her drag you down to her level."

Across the room, Law sat in silence, his forearms resting loosely on his knees. Though his posture seemed calm, the slight furrow of his brows and the tight line of his lips told a different story. He wasn’t rushing to argue, but his silence wasn’t surrender either.

He was watching you carefully, trying to piece together your motive.

You sat forward, clasping your hands together. “It’s not about getting even. It’s about showing her that she can’t control me—or anyone else. She thrives on chaos. That’s her fuel. If I take it away…”

“You don’t think that’s a huge risk?” Shachi cut in, his voice laced with concern. “What if it backfires?”

A faint smile crossed your lips as you leaned back into the chair. “That’s what backup is for, isn’t it?”

“You’re seriously considering working with them?”

“It’s a win-win. Kid and Killer already have their own grudge against her. Yuki fed them some bullshit about Law’s apartment being empty so they could rob it—now they’re pissed.”

Law raised his eyebrows slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Smart move, he thought, though he wasn’t surprised—you always had a sharp mind.

What did catch him off guard, though, was how determined you were—not just to get back at Yuki, but to do it with precision, with style. You weren’t acting on blind rage; you understood her motives, and you were using that against her.

And damn, if that didn’t make you even more captivating in his eyes.

Your gaze swept across the room until it landed on Law.

He leaned back slightly, his posture more relaxed now, but there was something else. The way he was looking at you—it was the same way he did when you had him teetering on the edge of desire.

A slow, heated stare that sent a shiver down your spine.

Goosebumps prickled your skin, but you forced yourself to stay calm, refusing to let him see just how much that look affected you.

Bonney’s voice snapped you back to reality, pulling you from the intensity of Law’s gaze. You turned to look at her, shaking off the lingering heat in your chest.

"And what exactly are you planning to do?" she asked, arms crossed, curiosity laced with skepticism.

You met her eyes without hesitation. "Wait for the right moment to hit her where it hurts."

Taking a deep breath, you slid your keys into the freshly repaired lock and pushed the door open. Even after everything that had happened, you refused to let fear dictate your life. This was your home. No one would take that from you. Not after the break-in. Not ever.

You tossed your bag aside, the sound of it hitting the floor punctuating your resolve. Law followed close behind, shutting the door with a quiet click.

“You sure you want to stay here—”

The entire ride back to your apartment, everyone—including your boyfriend—kept asking if you were sure about going home after the break-in. You understood their concern, but you refused to let Yuki dictate your life and the constant questioning grated on your nerves. Going back to your apartment was the first step in taking back control.

Law blinked, slightly taken aback. Something about you was... different. And frankly, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

You dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, muttering under your breath, “If she pulls something like this again, I’ll make sure she gets locked up in some filthy, rat-infested cell where she belongs.”

Law leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched you from a distance. His raised eyebrow caught your attention.

“What?” you snapped, your eyes narrowing dangerously as you focused on him.

He didn’t answer. Just tilted his head, observing you like you were some kind of unsolved mystery.

“For fuck’s sake, speak. Use your words, Law.”

“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as he moved to sit beside you rubbed you the wrong way. Clearly, it wasn’t nothing. You weren’t stupid—you knew exactly what was on his mind.

“What?” you pressed again, voice sharper now. “What do you expect me to do? Roll over and play the victim? Cry to some cop or, worse, those two useless punks? Hell no. I’m done with her games.”

Law glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for some reason, it made your blood boil. His silence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“What’s your problem?” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to face him. You inched closer, your brow furrowed in frustration. “Spit it out, already.”

He tilted his head again, that infuriating little grin growing wider by the second.

Your patience snapped. “Listen here, just because you thought dating some unhinged psycho was a good idea doesn’t mean I’m going to deal with the fallout! First, she leads me into a dangerous situation, then she breaks into my home, and let’s not forget—she mocked me. Right in front of your parents!” You jabbed your finger into his chest to emphasize each word, but Law didn’t flinch. If anything, the grin on his face grew.

Seeing him so smug only fueled your frustration. “I’ll show her what East Blue people are made of. She messed with the wrong person. And if she thinks she can come between us? She can fuck right off. You’re mine, Law. Mine.”

Law’s grin turned into a full-on lazy smirk, his stormy eyes finally meeting yours. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” You were practically nose-to-nose with him, your fiery determination burning brighter than ever.

He studied you for a long moment, clearly enjoying the spark in your eyes, the raw defiance that radiated off you in waves. He loved seeing you like this, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

But just as he opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly sassy, you cut him off, your voice a quiet, a lethal whisper.

“You’re mine.”

The words hung heavy in the air. For a split second, his smirk faltered. You caught it—that flicker of surprise in his eyes, the subtle hitch in his breath. He wasn’t used to this. Not from you. Not this unrelenting dominance.

You were done being the victim, suffocated by everything Yuki had put you through. The frustration had been building, and now, it was spilling over. Control—something you had been desperate to reclaim—was shifting, and this time, it was aimed at Law.

“And what exactly do you plan to do about it?” he challenged you clearly, his tone light but laced with something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, your body pressing flush against his. Laws back hit the edge of the couch, his balance faltering for just a moment as you pushed him down onto the cushions. His hands instinctively reached out to steady himself, but you were already straddling him, pinning him in place.

“What the—” Law started, but you cut him off with a searing kiss, your lips claiming his with a wildness that left no room for argument. It wasn’t soft nor gentle; it was hungry, demanding, and it caught him completely off guard. His hands gripped your hips, whether to push you away or pull you closer, you weren’t sure—and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the way his body responded to yours, the way his breath stuttered against your lips, the way his usually composed facade began to crack.

When you finally pulled back, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. There was no trace of that smug smirk now—just unfiltered intensity.

“What’s the matter, Law?” you purred, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, “Not so confident now, are you?”

He let out a low, breathless laugh, his grip tightening on your hips. “Rage suits you,” he admitted, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Don’t get used to it…,” you replied, nipping at his earlobe before trailing kisses down his neck. Every touch was deliberate, every movement designed to unravel him completely. You could feel the way his muscles tensed beneath you, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his breathing grew more erratic with each passing second.

And then, with a suddenness that made him gasp, you rolled your hips against his, grinding down hard. His head fell back against the cushions, a low growl escaping his throat, “F-Fuck...”

“That’s the idea,” you quipped, grinning as you continued while your hands roaming over his chest, slipping beneath his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.

Your lips found his again, this time softer but no less insistent. He kissed you back with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. His hands slid up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake, before settling on your shoulders. He tried to shift, to regain some semblance of control, but you weren’t having it. You broke the kiss just long enough to grab his wrists, pinning them above his head.

His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, you thought he might fight back. But then, something shifted in his expression—a dark, daring spark that made your heart race. “Will you look at that…,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Looks like someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

“You don't like the taste of your own medicine, hm?,” you shot back, your confidence not faltering for one second. You leaned down, capturing his lips once more, your bodies pressed so tightly together there was no space left for doubt, no room for hesitation.

His hips bucked against yours, a silent plea for more, and you obliged, rolling yours in slow, deliberate circles against his clothed core. The friction was maddening, the heat building between you almost unbearable. He groaned against your lips, his restraint slipping further with each passing second.

You released his wrists, letting your hands roam freely over his body, exploring every inch of him. His shirt was discarded in one swift motion, tossed aside without a second thought. His bare chest was a canvas of lean muscle and inked skin, and you traced them with your fingertips, marveling at how his breath hitched with every touch.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “If you keep this up…”

“What?” you teased, pausing to look him in the eye. “You will what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed your hips and tried flipped you over, but you were quicker. You grabbed his wrists once more and harshly pinned them down again.

“No,” you repeated, your voice firm but laced with a dangerous edge. “You don’t get to take control tonight.”

"You really dare huh?", he asked, his voice was weaker, almost out of breath, lacking any real bite. The sudden shift of roles took Law by surprise, and we wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Your lips curled into a sly smile as your fingers deftly worked the buckle, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. “You have no idea,” You didn’t give him time to respond, didn’t let him regain that smug composure he wore so well. Instead, you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “Hands.”

Law raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his gaze. But before he could retort, you grabbed his wrists, pulling them together firmly. He didn’t resist, not really, though you could feel the slight tension in his muscles, the way his body instinctively wanted to push back against being restrained. It isn’t often someone takes control from him, you thought, a thrill running through you at the realization.

You looped the belt around his wrists, tightening it just enough to hold him in place without causing discomfort. His pulse thudded beneath your fingertips, steady but quickening as you secured the makeshift restraint. You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, and for once, the smirk on his face wasn’t entirely mocking. There was something different there, something hungry.

“Good boy,” you purred, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression shifting into something more predatory, even with his hands remained bound.

"You're enjoying this too much," he growled, his voice low and edged with danger. It felt like you had caught a wild wolf, testing the limits of its restraint. And you were reveling in it.

Slowly, you straightened your posture, letting a smug smile curl on your lips as you met his gaze head-on. "You look beautiful like this, sweetheart." A light chuckle escaped your lips, as you gently grabbed his jaw and turned it from side to side, inspecting your little prey.

“You little...,” he muttered, his voice strained, his usual smirk replaced by something far more primal.

Amusement formed on your lips, as you slowly began to undress the last bits of clothes off him. The belt was gone already, and his jeans followed suit with his underwear. You left Law naked on the couch, as you stood in front of him to undress yourself.

You could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, watching you take of your clothes like it was a strip show. You lifted your top painfully slow and revealed your tits tightly caged in your bra, snapped it open and made them spill out. In a sensual manner, you swayed your hips to wiggle out of your underwear, just to present yourself in all your glory. Law wanted to touch you so badly, with his hands tied above his head, it was simply impossible. He dug his nails into the leather of his belt, flexing his arms while he was restrained.

"You're going to pay for this..." His voice was weaker than before, lust fogging his brain. He didn't know what you were doing to him, he was truly at your mercy.

"Big words for someone in your position..." A low chuckle left your lips as your straddled him once more. You grabbed between your thighs to get a hold on his throbbing cock, rubbing it painful slow against your wet folds. Law let out a shivering moan. Fuck, he wasn't used to being teased. This was sweet torture. "Tonight you're my little toy to play with."

"Tch, don't get ahead of yours-ah, f-fuck...!" He couldn't even finish his weak words of defense. You already lowered yourself on his cock, letting him enter inch by inch.

His head fell back against the couch, a strangled sound escaping his throat as you moved, taking what you wanted from him without restraint. You rode him slowly at first, bouncing your hips in a controlled manner as you watched Law beneath you with intense eyes. His wrists were bound tightly with his own belt, the leather digging into his skin every time he tried to tug against it. He was yours. Completely, utterly yours. And you were going to make sure he felt it.

"Ah... shit..." Law’s voice cracked, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep some semblance of composure. But it was hard—so damn hard—when you were moving like that, your hips rolling with a maddening rhythm that had his toes curling against the couch cushions. "You’re—ugh—you’re fucking cruel, you know that?" You smirked, leaning forward slightly to hover over him, your breath hot against his ear mixed with moans escaping your lips. "Cruel?" you purred, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "It's cruel when I do it, but not when you're the one on top?" You punctuated your words with a sharp grind of your hips, drawing a low groan from him that made your stomach twist with satisfaction.

Law’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fuck... I didn’t—ah—mean it like that..." he managed to choke out, his words breaking as you shifted again, your walls tightening around him in a way that made his head spin.

You chuckled softly, your fingers trailing down his chest, nails lightly scraping over his skin. "Too late," you murmured, your voice low and teasing. "You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks. Always so… in control. Always so smug. But not tonight." You leaned back, your hands resting on his thighs as you increased your pace slightly, watching him unravel beneath you.

Law’s breath hitched, his hips jerking upward instinctively, but you pressed a firm hand against his stomach, pinning him down. "Uh-uh," you chided, your voice firm but laced with amusement. "You’re not in charge here. Tonight, you’re going to take what I give you. And you’re going to like it."

"Bitch..." he growled with a weak grin, though there was no real venom in his tone. If anything, it sounded more like a plea, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need.

You laughed, the sound deep and throaty, and it only seemed to make him squirm more. "Call me whatever you want, baby," you said, your voice dripping with confidence. "But we both know you’re loving this."

He didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as you began to move faster, your hips slamming down onto him with a force that made his vision blur. His hands clenched into fists, the leather of the belt creaking softly as he pulled against it, but he was trapped. Helpless. And it was driving him wild.

"Fuck... fuck..." Law’s voice was barely above a whisper now, his usual composure shattered as he stared up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "You had your fun, let me just-..."

You tilted your head, a slow, wicked smile spreading across your lips. "You’re going to take it," you whispered, your voice husky and full of promise. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

You leaned forward again, your hands gripping the back of the couch on either side of his head as you ground down against him, your movements slow and deliberate. Your lips brushed against his ear, your breath warm as you spoke. "You look so good like this..."

He let out a choked moan, his hips jerking upward again, but you held him down easily, your body moving in a way that left him gasping. "You’re mine tonight," you continued, your voice soft but commanding. "And I’m going to make sure you remember it."

"S-Surley, you learned from the best after all...." he managed to rasp somehow confident but he was melting in your tight grip, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to ignore the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. Every movement, every word, only seemed to push him closer to the edge.

Law let out a throaty moan as you pushed down just at the right angle. His head rolled back against the couch, his body shuddering beneath you. You licked your lips in satisfaction, your hips moving faster now, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he teetered on the edge, his hands tugging uselessly against the belt above his head, making his muscles flex and pop out even more. "I—fuck, I’m going to—"

"Not yet," you interrupted, your voice firm as you slowed your movements, pulling back just enough to keep him on that knife’s edge. "Not until I say so."

Law let out a strangled moan, biting down on his lips as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But it was no use. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and he knew it.

You leaned down again, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Now."

That one word seemed to shatter whatever restraint he had left. His body tensed, his hips jerking upward as he came with a low, guttural groan that seemed to echo through the room. You watched him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you continued to move, milking every last drop of pleasure from him until he was left trembling and spent beneath you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the sound of your heavy breathing. Then, Law let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his eyes opening to meet yours. "You’re a fucking menace," he murmured, his voice hoarse but laced with affection.

You grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips. "And you love me for it," you whispered, your voice teasing as you slowly climbed off of him, your legs shaky but your confidence unwavering. "Now… let’s see if you’re ready for round two."

Law’s eyes widened, a mix of dread and anticipation flickering across his face as you reached for the belt around his wrists, your fingers deftly undoing the buckle. "You’re killing me, woman..." he groaned, though there was no real protest in his tone. If anything, it sounded more like a challenge—one you were more than ready to accept.

Law thought he was finally free when you undid the belt, but life was pretty unfair tonight, and he couldn't protest with the soreness in his arms. You quickly pulled a chair closer, let him sit down and pulled his hands behind his back, tying together once more. "I don't even know why I let you away with this..." He muttered, still breathless from round one, while you seemed to have all the energy in the world as you stood in front of him, with your hands on your hips in a satisfied stance. "Cuz you love me."

Law couldn't resist. A lazy smile formed on his lips as he let you straddle him again. His hands once more tied together behind the chair, long legs spread and with you sitting on his cock.

Leaning forward, you braced your hands on his chest, your movements becoming sharper, more erratic from the get go. Law let out a almost painful grunt. You didn't give him time to rest, yet his cock had his mind of his own, already hardening once more. Pearls of sweat covered your bodies, as you rode Law mercilessly a second time.

“Look at me,” you demanded, your voice sharp and commanding in between sinful moans.

He obeyed immediately, his stormy grey eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. There was no trace of his usual arrogance now, no smugness or teasing. Just raw, unfiltered desire—and something deeper, something that made your heart race even faster.

“Say it,” you whispered breathlessly, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Say you’re mine.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his jaw tightening as if the words were a battle he didn’t want to lose. But then his resolve crumbled, shattered by the sheer force of your will—and the relentless rhythm of your hips. “I’m yours,” he growled, the words rough and unsteady. “Damn it, I’m yours.”

The admission sent a thrill through you, a wave of triumph that made you smile in satisfaction. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and electric. His head tipped back, a groan escaping his lips, and you reveled in the sound.

“Look at me,” you demanded, your voice firm despite the way your own body trembled with pleasure. His eyes snapped to yours, hazy but focused, and you could see it—the moment his control shattered completely. Law let loose, and listened to every command you made.

His name spilled from your lips as you picked up the pace, your movements growing more urgent, more desperate. His hands strained against the belt, his entire body taut as he fought to keep himself anchored. You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter, until you were both teetering on the edge.

His voice broke as he moaned your name, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as you finally let go, the world blurring around you as you spiraled together into bliss.

While your orgasm had been building up since round one and took you like a crashing wave, Law filled you up a second time, making a mess out of where you two were connected. You moved a bit longer, until your thighs shivered from the exhausting, before you finally stopped and let your body fall against his.

"Fuck you ruined me..." Law let his head fall back, two orgasms without a break really drained him, and the whole experience of you taking control added up to the whole excitement, ending in a blissful exhaustion.

You stay in that position a bit longer, until your legs had enough strength to stand up. Law thought it was over and he was finally free from the belt, but the look on your face was telling him otherwise.

"...You're going to be the death of me..."

After you rode him once more like a animal in heat, Law sat there completely drenched in sweat, rubbing his sore wrists, while you came back from the bathroom, throwing a damp towel towards him. He grabbed it weakly, trying to catch his breath. God, you really ruined him, he felt like he was going to pass out. Since when did you have so much stamina?

He felt like you emptied his balls for a whole month.

“I want payment, for my soul you fucked out of me.” Law looked at you, wet strands of raven hair clinging to his face, his breath still coming fast, as if he’d just run a marathon. Yet, despite his exhaustion, he managed a weak, amused grin.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you slowly gathered your scattered clothes from the floor. “Are you my slut now, or what?”

“You surely made me feel like that.” Law chuckled weakly and leaned his head back, exhausted eyes still following your movement.

“Uhu, sure. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.” With a smug grin you offered him his underwear, while you took the liberty to slip on his hoodie.

“Shut up and order us something. It’s the least you can do for your whore.” He let out a quiet chuckle, ruffling your hair playfully.

“Fine, fine. You want pizza?” With a soft smile — being back to your usual self — you pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Law smiled back and hummed, giving you the okay to order.

He let it sink in—the whole scene playing back in his head. You’d always been strong-willed, but this… this was something else. He’d never seen you this fiery, this unapologetically fierce. It was new, unexpected. And utterly captivating.

To his surprise, he found himself enjoying it far more than he cared to admit. The raw energy, the pure rage that lit you up from within—it was electric. It was intoxicating.

And, hell, it was hot.

Law leaned back against the couch, his arms draped lazily along the cushions as he watched you scroll through your phone. His mind started to clear again, though the memory of what had gotten you so fired up lingered in the back of his thoughts.

“…You got a plan for Yuki?”

Without looking up, you handed him your phone so he could pick his part of the food order. You shrugged. “Not yet. I want to take my time with this—make it count. It’s gotta be a one-time thing, you know? Just… end it all.” A sigh escaped your lips as you sank further into the couch. “Don’t wanna be impulsive like her.”

Law raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through the menu. “You think she’s impulsive?”

“You know her better than I do,” you shot back, glancing at him. “Is she?”

He considered your question, his thumb hovering over the screen. “She’s emotionally driven, for sure,” he admitted. “But... weirdly calculated at the same time.”

You let out a chuckle. “Yeah, but nothing she does really feels final, does it?”

Law shook his head, setting the phone aside after completing the order. “Doubt she wants it to end.” He glanced at you, his eyes softening slightly as you shifted closer, snuggling into his side. “Feels like she thrives on it. Bet it’s all she thinks about.”

You smirked, resting your head against his shoulder. “What an honor. Living rent-free in her head like that.”

As Law still absently rubbed his wrists, as your thoughts began to wander. You knew you had to plan your next move carefully, but something in your gut told you the right opportunity would present itself. You just had to be ready—alert and sharp.

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii@mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller , @lechefian , @kitsunechan707 , @forest-haven , @kaz-0e , @baby5555 , @fashionably-a-hippie , @stuckinmymind22 , @whore-of-many-hot-men , @little-rivers , @spookydragonsong

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azsazz · 3 days ago

Text

Over Ice (Part 11)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Mentions of barfing.

Word Count: 3989

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10)

Notes: Sorry I haven't put anything out in a while, I've been mad sick.

_________________________________________

“I still think this is a bad idea,” you whisper-yell as you and your two roommates sneak across the lawn. There’s no need to sneak, really. The Hockey House is packed to the brim with people, some even spilling onto the front lawn of the two-story home. You’re pretty sure they wouldn’t even notice if you walked right through the door and up the stairs to begin your search for their precious trophy.

Mor and Gwyn halt where they’re pressed against the side of the house to stare at you. You all are dressed in black from head-to-toe, which, in your opinion at least, makes you stand out even more from the plethora of people inside.

“Where’s this sudden conscious coming from?” Gwyn asks. She’s right, even she’s here, though this entire scheme was her idea in the first place. For some reason, she hates everything and anything that has to do with the word hockey, and yet, here she is.

To steal a trophy, your mind supplies. It’s not like she’s here to party.

“Yeah,” Mor tacks on, and it’s difficult not to duck out from under her scrutinizing gaze. “My cousin’s in there and you don’t see me complaining.”

Funny she mentions that, because that’s the exact thing you’re worried about. Running into Rhysand.

“Nothing,” you stammer, trying to console your roommate. “It’s just…we should be cutting Gwyn’s cake right now, not pulling some prank like high schoolers.” At first, the idea of pulling a prank on the hockey team seemed like fun. Now that you’re here and the buzz of the wine you drank has wavered, it doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Those hockey boys take their superstitions seriously, you can’t imagine how they’d feel about a trophy disappearing.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don’t take it out for fear that it might be Rhysand. You can barely believe he called you, flirted with you while his cousin was one room over. He knows that nothing can happen between either of you, it would only spell disaster. Mor would have an aneurism, at the very least.

“Stealing this will taste so much sweeter than cake!” Gwyn insists. She wobbles on her feet and catches herself against the side of the house, waving Mor off when she reaches out a hand to steady the redhead. Gwyn blinks her big cerulean eyes at you in her infamous innocent look. “This is what I want for my birthday, but I won’t force you to join us. We’ll go inside, steal the trophy from right under their noses, and meet you back at the apartment, if you want.”

“No,” you shake your head. Maybe this will be fun. Maybe you can do this for Gwyn and return the trophy before the boy’s notice. Maybe they won’t even notice at all. Yeah, right. “we’ll find it faster if there’s three of us. I’m in.”

Gwyn beams and throws herself into your arms. You stumble, unprepared, but manage to keep the both of you upright with a startled laugh. Mor quickly joins the hug and it takes five minutes for the three of you to stop giggling and get your heads straight.

“Right, so where do we think they’d hide it?” Gwyn asks as the three of you huddle together to form a plan. When you left your apartment, the only idea in motion had been to walk into the house and steal the trophy. You have a feeling it’s going to be a little trickier than that.

You and Gwyn look to Mor who makes a face. “What the hell are you looking at me for? How would I know where it is?”

“He’s your cousin,” you supply and Gwyn nods vehemently.

Mor scoffs. “And? That doesn’t mean I’d know exactly where they’re hiding a giant trophy! I’ve been here the same number of times as you!” She points in your direction. “Do you remember seeing it around?”

You think for a moment. No, you don’t remember seeing at the last party you were here for, but you don’t think you’d miss a giant, gleaming trophy, even if you were distracted by Rhys. “No,” you mutter quietly.

Mor crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin haughtily. “Exactly.”

“So, we sneak inside and split up and hopes one of us finds it?” Gwyn asks. She’s not giving up on this easily, that’s for sure. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so hungry for revenge. Maybe if you knew exactly why she disliked the hockey team so much, it’d help psych you up.

“No, we need a better plan than that.” You offer a silent apology. “Who’s the most superstitious?”

“What?”

“Well, if we decide who’s the most superstitious of the group, maybe we can narrow down where the trophy might be,” you explain. “Like, if Rhys is the most superstitious, do you think he would hide it under the kitchen sink or something?”

Mor’s brows furrow as she thinks. Nearby, a boy shouts drunkenly across the lawn. You can’t make out what he says with the way his words slur, but the three of you huddle closer to the house, nonetheless.

“Azriel or Rhys,” Mor decides. “Cassian wouldn’t care about some trophy. He’d mix drinks in it. Which leaves us with Azriel or Rhys.”

And well, that narrows things down a little.

“Where would they hide a trophy like that?” Gwyn asks.

You and Mor exchange a knowing look. “Their room.”

The three of you decide that after you sneak upstairs, Gwyn will keep watch, Mor will snoop through Azriel’s room, and you’ll try and find the trophy in Rhys’ room.

“Why do I have to look in Rhys’ room?” You all but complain. You didn’t like this idea before, but you sure as hell don’t like it now. Snooping through someone’s personal things is so wrong, and the fact that you’re going to be digging around in Rhys’ things, the boy who stirs reluctant feelings in your stomach, your tutor, doesn’t sit well with you.

“Because I can’t look through his things!” Mor protests, then shudders. “What if I find something that changes my perspective on my cousin forever? I spend too many family holidays with him, it’ll be too difficult to avoid eye-contact with him if I saw something weird.”

And yeah, that’s a good point. Maybe for more reasons than one. If you find something that puts you off from Rhysand, it won’t be such a struggle to stay keep away from him like you’re supposed to be doing. Being his tutee will be much easier if every time you see him, you’re thinking about a stiff sock under his bed or a Playboy beneath his mattress.

“Okay,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

Gwyn puts her hand out and looks between you and Mor eagerly. “C’mon. We need a chant.”

You don’t, you really don’t, but you divulge her, anyway. You place your hand on top of hers, and Mor rests hers on top, completing your best friend hand stack. Gwyn bounces her hand up and down. On the third bounce, when you all break and toss your hands in the air in triumph, she cheers, “These hockey boys don’t know what’s coming for them. Revenge is best served over ice!”

Revenge? Who on the hockey team is Gwyn beefing with that she wants to enact revenge on these boys?

Before you can ask, she slips around the side of the house into the darkness of night.

“Shit,” Mor curses, “Let’s go.”

There’s really no need for the three of you to be sneaking at all, but if this is what Gwyn wants for her birthday, then you will deliver.

College students are still elbowing their way inside of the house. The three of you slip into the crowd easily. It takes a few minutes of patience to get through the front door because people keep pausing to greet newcomers, but once inside, your all-black garb really does seem to help you blend in. The lights are dim in the house, and it’s all too easy to wind your way through the living room to make your way to the staircase, clutching tightly to your friends’ hands.

“Duck!” Gwyn yelps and tugs you lower. You don’t question her, ducking deeper into the crowd.

A behemoth of a boy ambles past, like a drunken bigfoot. You’d recognize those broad shoulders and loud voice anywhere. Cassian.

“Who’s up for a game of flip-cup?” He shouts directly over your heads. Thankfully, he’s too busy counting the number of hands that shoot up for a chance to be on his team. You and your friends quickly slither away from him, keeping your heads tightly tucked to your chests. “Shirts vs. skins!”

You roll your eyes at the suggestion in his tone. Then, you wonder if Rhys is playing.

Something hot prickles your gut, but before you can read into the feeling, Gwyn’s leads you further into the wolves’ den.

You straighten your posture as you pass the kitchen, hoping that you’re in the clear, only to catch a glimpse of the other two members of the household you’re attempting to prank tonight.

Your breath catches when you spot Rhys. He stands beside Azriel, the both of them leaning casually against the counter. They look cool. Effortless. They look fucking hot.

Your mouth runs dry. His shirt is tight, stretched across those broad shoulders that are the basis of your dreams. The material stretches across his bicep when he reaches a hand up to brush back the strands of his deep, dark hair. His violet eyes glow, and a dimple indents his cheek when he grins down at the person who stands before him. You follow his line of sight and this time, when you see the petite, pretty brunette that holsters his amusement, your stomach churns violently. It’s definitely jealousy this time.

You clench your jaw and shove the emotion away. You hold no claim on him, nor that you can. He’s Mor’s cousin, you remind yourself vehemently. He’s your tutor.

Neither of those chants does anything to ease the sourness in your stomach.

At least all three boys are occupied. It makes getting up the stairs all that easier. As you ascend, you can’t help but think that maybe you do want to steal this trophy, make their lives a little more vibrant tonight. It’s petty, you think, but you continue anyway.

When the three of you reach the landing, you and your roommates reconvene.

“Any idea whose room belongs to who?” You ask, looking up and down the hall. There are five doors. One has a line of people behind it, so you count that as a bathroom. Maybe another is a closet. You’ll have to look quickly.

“No idea,” Mor shrugs, and glances down the stairs. None of the boys have caught wind of you here yet. Good. “We’ll just have to look.”

“What if their doors are locked?” You wonder and both of your roommate’s stare at you. Shit. None of you had thought about that possibility, and unless Gwyn or Mor secretly know how to pick locks, your prank might be doomed.

“Worry about that if it happens,” Gwyn answers hurriedly and shoos you down the hall. “If you hear a turkey call, the missions been compromised and you need to run. If we get split up, meet at the rendezvous point by one a.m. or the search party will come out.” Rendezvous point being your dorm, search party being whoever makes it to the dorm first.

Turkey call? You share a look with Mor. You’re learning so much about Gwyn tonight.

You split from your friends without another thought. If the three of you pull this off, you’re won’t hesitate to interrogate innocent, little Gwyn about all of the revelations you’ve learned tonight. Apparently, you don’t know your roommate as well as you thought you did.

You rip open the first door you come across. You’re met with a bare ass and the lewd moans of a girl getting her world rocked. The pair don’t even notice you, but you blurt in shock. “Holy shit! I’m sorry!” You gape for a moment longer, truly impressed the kind of leverage the boy draped over her back has in the tight confines of this linen closet. You slam the door shut and stumble to the next room.

Aha! The door is unlocked. You take a quick glance over your shoulder. Gwyn’s attention is on you. She offers you a huge smile and a big thumbs up, then avert her gaze back to the stairs like a rottweiler on duty.

“Please, don’t let anyone be naked in here,” you mutter before slipping inside.

Thankfully, you don’t hear any sex-induced noises. No squeaking of a mattress. No headboard hitting the wall. Just the bass of the music through the floorboards.

You flick on the light after shutting the door. It’s a typical boy’s room, you note as you look around. A bed with navy sheets, surprisingly made. There’s a wooden dresser pushed beneath the three large windows that overlook the small backyard. A closet door hangs ajar near the corner of the room.

You aim for the dresser. There’s a picture frame of the hockey team on top, along with a stack of clothes that hasn’t yet been put away and a few textbooks, but no trophy. Damn.

There’s a small desk that looks like the legs are going to give out if the slightest breeze brushes up against it. A laptop sits shut on top, along with a cup stuffed full of pencils and pens. There’s a notebook flipped open, and you recognize a few words as psychology jargon from some of your classes. Rhys room, you deduce immediately.

“Where are you, where are you…” You mutter. The closet produces no results, either, just perfectly lined up sneakers and a surprising number of suits and dress shirts. On the shelf, there’s an entire bin of beanies, and thrown on the floor in the middle of the closet is a hockey bag. The smell that wafts out of it makes your nose scrunch.

You’re about to dive to the floor and check under the bed. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You don’t have high hopes that the trophy will be stashed under his bed, but you’ll give it a cursory glance before reporting back to Gwyn.

You kneel on the floor and peer under the frame, praying that you don’t find some weird sex toy or something. That’s the last thing you need to be thinking about right now. You hold your breath and open your eyes, exhaling a loud huff of relief when you don’t find any monsters under his bed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing in here?” An all too familiar voice rasps from behind you.

You almost hit your head on the metal bedframe when you jump in surprise. You whip your head around only to see Rhys towering over you. His arms are crossed over his chest and though he’s trying his damned hardest to keep the smirk from breaking out across his lips, you can tell how amused he is by the glittering of his violet eyes.

“Fuck!” You scramble to your feet, dusting your knees off. “You scared me!”

Where the hell was Gwyn with her turkey call? Were you so invested in searching his room that you missed it completely?

“As much as I like the idea of you in my room, darling,” he drawls, and his voice sends shivers down your spine. “When I pictured you in here, you were in my bed, not under it.”

Fuck. Now you’re thinking about being in his bed, too, and that just won’t do.

You swallow harshly. If you rip your gaze away from his hungry eyes, you’ll look directly at said bed. And then you’ll be even more tempted to fall into it, and pull him in behind you.

Stop it right the fuck now.

“I was just, ah,” you scramble for a lie. “Looking for some psych notes.” You wince. It’s not terrible, but there’s no way in hell Rhys is going to believe you. “My test today really got me down. I thought I would start studying for the next one early.”

Rhys quirks a brow. He’ll play along, if that’s what you want. “And you thought I keep my notes under my bed?”

You glance at the floor where you were just face down, ass up, snooping. Your cheeks flare at the thought of him standing right behind you. You must have looked like you were his for the taking.

“I thought I dropped a piece of paper,” you nod solemnly. “Thought I saw it drift right under the bed.”

“And?”

“And what?” you ask, mustering all of the innocence you can.

The corner of Rhys’ mouth tips up and your breath hitches in your chest. Gods, he looks good enough to eat. All you’d have to do is take one step forward and you’d be pressed flush against his front. One step to the side and you’d be falling on his bed, where you really would offer yourself up to him.

Damn the wine you drank.

“And,” Rhys teases. He takes a step closer and you’d move back if you were of sound mind. If your feet weren’t glued to the floorboards. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

His breath brushes the tops of your cheeks and your lashes flutter. The warmth of his body floods yours. Your nipples tighten painfully under your shirt. Your chests brush with every sharp inhale you take, but does nothing to help calm your racing heart.

“I, uh,” your gaze flickers to those perfect, pink lips of his. You think they might be your favorite thing about him. How soft yet demanding they felt against yours at the Halloween party. What they look like wrapped around the top of a pen as he studies. Fuck. You want to taste him again, you’ve forgotten what he tastes like. When you drag your gaze back to his violet eyes, you find them teeming with the same pent-up arousal that courses in your veins. “I think I just did.”

You’re not sure who moves first, if you roll up onto your toes or if Rhys ducks down. All you know if the sensation of his mouth crashing against yours in a desperate kiss. Like you’ve gone without for far too long.

This is bad, this is sin, your mind refutes. You’re breaking rule number fucking one!

But your heart tells you to move closer, to press your body flush against his. It’s like you’re in a trance, and you do just that.

Rhys’ fingers thread into the hair at the nape of your neck where he grabs a fistful of hair. You gasp erotically against his mouth and he swallows the sound with a growl that makes the innermost parts of you ache. He guides your head this way and that, and you give into him, allowing him to take you how he wants.

You aren’t taking the time to run your hands up his body to explore like you want to. Nope, your fingers are curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt. You’re unable to move, completely entranced by the feeling of his tongue dipping into your mouth and laving against yours. It’s dominating, it’s sensual, it’s fucking perfect.

“Rhys,” you whine. It’s not a whine for him to stop, like it should be, but a desperate plea for him to keep going. You’ve thought about your kiss with him every night since Halloween. Touched yourself a few times to it as well. This, this is better than what you remember.

He shushes you softly. It sounds like a promise, like you have all the fucking time in the world. And you do, you think. You can’t remember what you were doing before this moment. Don’t even know what you’re going to do after this moment.

Have sex with him, hopefully.

Rhys hand wraps around your hips, then lowers. He grabs a handful of your ass, which spurs you into his arms. You lock your hands around his neck and all but climb into his arms, twining your legs around his trim wait.

“Fuck, darling,” he grunts as your nails scratch his scalp. It feels good, everything you’re doing. He wants you up against the wall, on the bed, bent over the dresser. Hell, he wants to sit you right upon that flimsy desk and fuck into you until it breaks. His teeth scrape against the skin of your neck. “Take your shirt off for me.”

You can’t obey fast enough. Rhys eyes are dark with desire, drinking every inch that you reveal to him like it’s his last meal on earth. Your pussy clenches at the sight and if he doesn’t start touching you, removing more clothes, you think you might just combust.

Like he sees it in your eyes, he slides his hand beneath your bra and cups your breath roughly. You moan, head falling back on your shoulders and he praises gruffly. “That’s it, darling, I’ve got you.”

You can’t even respond. Your brain doesn’t work. Any words you can form get caught in your throat. Rhys dips his head to kiss and suck at the tops of your breasts. He tweaks your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Rhys!” You hiss. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck. He fights against you, and it makes you even hotter. He knows what he’s doing with that mouth, and as nice as it feels on your chest and crawling up the column of your throat, you need his lips pressed against yours right now. “Please!”

“Okay, darling,” he whispers, and latches onto your mouth again.

You melt into him with a noise of pleasure. You grind your hips into his which makes his hands around your waist tighten. You’re lost in the feeling of him, want him to move closer to the bed, to press his tongue right between your thighs and use that very same swirling motion around your clit, you want him to strip bare and press his hot, aching cock right between your—

“Holy fucking shit!” A voice exclaims, ripping through your psyche.

Holy fucking shit. You’re kissing Rhys. Your shirt is off, you’re in his arms, and you’re kissing fucking Rhys.

You rip yourself from Rhys and swing your attention to the door. Dread settles like lead in your veins and you drop your feet to the floor, scrambling to pick up your discarded shirt form the floor.

Gwyn stands in the doorway, struck. Her cerulean eyes are comically wide, which is saying something because she’s always doe-eyed. She sways over the threshold and you hope it’s the lingering wine in her body and not because she just witnessed you all but mauling Mor’s cousin.

Mor.

“Gwyn,” you say desperately, tugging your shirt over your head. She can’t tell Mor, no one can. This will ruin your entire friendship, and you can’t handle that. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.”

You barely register the affronted noise Rhys makes. You’re struggling with the material of your shirt, and he reaches a hand out to help. You brush him off, making your way to your friend who stares, glossy-eyed at the floor.

“I can’t…” Gwyn trails off. She raises her head and you falter at the hurt look in her eyes. It makes a lump form in your throat. Shit. You’re going to lose both of your best friends in one night.

Except, Gwyn admits, “I don’t feel very good.” She turns back into the hall and proceeds to throw up all over the floor.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

#rhys acotar #rhysand/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #rhysand x reader #acotar hockey au #over ice #hockey!bat boys #hockey!rhysand

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bambieyedoll · 2 days ago

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ * PAUL LAHOTE HEADCANNONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 childhood friends to lovers with paul

you were always his.

paul lahote has known you his entire life.

even as kids, he gravitated toward you, like some invisible force was always pulling him in your direction.

“you’re my best friend,” he told you when you were both seven, shoving a slightly crushed flower into your hands with a determined look. “forever.”

he didn’t know back then that he loved you—but he did. even before he understood what love was.

as you both grew up, paul started to notice things about you in ways that made his stomach tighten and his heart ache.

the way your hair caught the sunlight, the way your laugh echoed in his ribs, the way you touched his arm when you talked—fuck, it made his chest burn.

but you never looked at him the way he looked at you, and that killed him.

he forced himself to act normal, to hide the way his hands itched to touch you, the way his gaze lingered when you weren’t looking.

he would have given anything to be the one you turned to with soft, love-drunk eyes.

paul had to watch you date other guys. it nearly drove him insane.

he always put on a front—smirking, teasing you, acting like it didn’t gut him every time you mentioned some guy’s name.

“so, you and that asshole from school, huh?” he said one night, tossing a rock into the ocean, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “didn’t think you had such bad taste.”

“shut up, paul,” you laughed, nudging him playfully. but he didn’t laugh.

because it wasn’t funny to him. it was hell.

but he stayed quiet. because what if telling you the truth meant losing you completely?

he could have kept his feelings buried forever if it weren’t for the night he saw you crying over some idiot who didn’t deserve you.

you had come to his house, eyes red, voice shaky, looking so fucking sad, and something in him just snapped.

“tell me who it is,” he said, voice dark and dangerous. “i’ll kill him.”

“paul—”

“tell me.”

you shook your head, wiping your eyes. “it doesn’t matter.”

didn’t matter? no, fuck that. it mattered more than anything.

he exhaled hard, running a hand over his face before muttering, “you deserve better.”

you huffed a watery laugh. “yeah? like who? you?”

his jaw locked. “yeah,” he said quietly, his hands shaking. “like me.”

it happened fast.

one second, you were teasing him, and the next, he was cracking open in front of you.

“do you even know how fucking hard it is?” he burst out suddenly, voice raw, desperate. “loving you like this?”

your breath hitched. “paul—”

“no.” he shook his head, stepping closer. “you don’t get it. i’ve loved you since we were kids. and every single day, i’ve had to watch you, knowing i’m not the one you want.”

his hands balled into fists, his breathing uneven. “i thought i could live with that. thought i could be okay just being your friend. but i can’t, y/n, i fucking can’t.”

his voice broke on the last word, and suddenly, you realized—he wasn’t just frustrated. he was in agony.

you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear it until that moment.

until you saw the way he was looking at you—like he’d die if you didn’t love him back.

“say something,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

you swallowed hard. “i—i don’t know what to say.”

his breath shuddered. “then let me.”

and then his hands were on your face, gentle but desperate, pulling you in as if he had been starving for you his whole life.

the second your lips touched, it was over—all the years of yearning, all the nights spent lying awake thinking about what it would feel like to have you, hold you, be yours.

“god, finally” he groaned against your mouth, fingers gripping you like he’d never let go.

and he never would.

the kiss changed everything.

one second, paul was your best friend, and the next, he was your paul.

he didn’t let you go for a long time after that.

he held you so tight, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip even a little.

when you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted that,” he whispered, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

you let out a soft laugh, breathless. “i think i have some idea.”

“not funny.” his lips brushed yours again, barely there, but full of something achingly desperate. “i thought i was gonna go crazy wanting you like that.”

he didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

everything was the same, but also not.

paul still teased you like he always did, still tossed popcorn at you during movie nights, still wrestled you onto the couch playfully—

but now, when he pinned you down, his hands lingered. his lips brushed over your cheek before he let you go.

his eyes devoured you like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to look at you like this.

and, oh, god, the touches—

he was constantly touching you.

his hand on your thigh when you sat together. his fingers tracing your knuckles. his arms pulling you into his chest like it was second nature.

one night, you caught him just staring at you, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists.

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his face. “nothing.”

“paul.”

his eyes flicked to your lips, his entire body tensed, and then—

“i just really wanna kiss you again.”

paul had always been overprotective, but now? ten times worse.

if you so much as stumbled, he was there, hands gripping your arms, eyes full of pure panic.

“i’m fine, paul.”

“you almost died.”

“i tripped over a rock.”

“exactly.”

he hated the thought of anything happening to you. even the idea of losing you sent him into a downward spiral of pure terror.

one night, after a particularly bad nightmare, he woke up shaking, his arms around you too tight.

you stirred, sieepy. “paul?”

“just—just go back to sleep, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

but you didn’t miss the way his breath shuddered against your neck.

the next morning, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. when you finally pushed him on it, he sighed, rubbing his face.

“had a dream you were gone,” he admitted, voice quiet.

you softened instantly, reaching for him. he immediately pulled you in, burying his face in your neck.

“i can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice raw.

“you won’t.”

“promise me.” his grip on you tightened. “just—just promise me.”

paul was obsessed with you in a way he never tried to hide.

he could spend hours just watching you talk, completely mesmerized by every little thing you did.

“paul,” you teased one day. “you’re staring.”

“yeah?” his lips twitched. “and?”

“and it’s weird.”

he just grinned, reaching over to pull you onto his lap. “mm, you’ll get used to it, baby.”

he also loved reminding you that you were his.

if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, paul was right there, an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

“something you need?” he’d ask, voice low, deadly.

the guy would immediately back off, and paul would just smirk, satisfied, pressing a slow kiss to your neck.

“mine,” he’d murmur. “all mine.”

one night, you were lying on the beach together, his arms wrapped around you, the waves crashing in the distance.

you sighed, content. “crazy to think we were just kids running around here not that long ago.”

paul hummed, his fingers brushing over your arm absentmindedly. “not that crazy.”

“why?”

he exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “because i think i’ve been loving you since then.”

your heart stuttered. “paul—”

“no, i mean it.” he tightened his grip on you, his voice softer than usual. “i think… i think i’ve always been yours.”

you turned in his arms, looking up at him, your heart full.

“good,” you whispered, tracing a hand along his jaw. “because i’ve always been yours too.”

and paul just melted, pulling you into a slow, aching kiss—one that held years of longing, years of desperate, unspoken love finally set free.

paul isn’t subtle about how much he wants you to be his forever.

“you ever think about getting married?” he asks one night, his fingers tracing absent patterns over your skin.

“i—what?” you blink up at him, caught off guard.

his lips twitch, but his eyes are serious. “just wondering.”

you swallow hard. “do you?”

his jaw clenches for a second, like he’s fighting something deep.

“i think about you,” he says finally. “every day. every fucking second.”

he exhales softly, leaning in. “and i want all of it, y/n. i want you. forever.”

there was nothing that felt more natural than the way the universe had put you two together. and paul feels that every single every day.

so it’s not surprise he can’t hide his wish to be by your side.

it’s late, and paul is standing in the kitchen, watching you move around his space like you belong there.

and suddenly, he can’t take it anymore.

“move in with me.”

you freeze, blinking. “paul—”

“i mean it.” his voice is soft, but there’s something urgent underneath. “you already spend all your time here. just… stay.”

he steps forward, hands cradling your face. “stay with me,” he murmurs.

how could you say no to that?

paul lahote doesn’t just love you. he owns the feeling—deep in his bones, in every breath, in every look, in every single second he spends with you.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote headcannons #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote twilight #paul lahote fluff #paul lahote angst #twilight #twilight headcanon #twilight paul #fanfic #twilight werewolves #werewolves #werewolf #the pack

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