#High Strength Concrete

[nnctales]

Understanding the Key Differences between High Performance and High Strength Concrete

Concrete, one of the most widely used construction materials, has undergone significant advancements over the years. Among these innovations are high performance concrete (HPC) and high strength concrete (HSC). While they may sound similar, these two types of concrete serve distinct purposes and exhibit contrasting properties. In this article, we will delve into the differences between high…

[kapilasteel]

In construction, using the right materials can make a significant difference in the integrity and durability of structures. Binding wire, TMT bars, and Super Rings are essential components that ensure structural stability. This guide delves into how to maximize the effectiveness of these materials in your construction projects. By understanding the synergy between binding wire, TMT bars, and Super Rings, construction professionals can ensure stronger, longer-lasting outcomes. Whether it's for reinforcing structures or ensuring high tensile strength, the right combination of these materials can enhance performance and reduce long-term costs.

[midseo]

Concrete Repairing Material, Shree E-Plast Plus (M30 Plus)

Shree Premix Industries - Best product of sale for Concrete Repairing Material, Shree E-Plast Plus (M30 Plus) in Mumbai.

https://www.shreepremixindustries.com/shree-e-plast-plus-m30-plus.php

[harperjack891]

Exploring the Use of Microsilica and Sea Freight Worldwide in UAE

Global Shipping and Advanced Materials Sea Freight Worldwide in UAE. The use of Microsilica leads to concrete hardness and durability through usage.To view more details: https://www.arabiantrading.ae/blog/exploring-the-use-of-microsilica-and-sea-freight-worldwide-in-uae.html 

[shreyanaik]

Searching for top-grade Ready Mix Concrete? JK Lakshmi offers consistent quality, timely delivery, and durable concrete solutions for residential, commercial, and infrastructure projects. Designed with advanced technology and strict quality checks, our Ready Mix Concrete helps you build faster, stronger, and safer structures. Perfect for foundations, slabs, columns, and more, it saves time on-site and ensures uniform strength across all applications.

[gubbicivilengineering]

Top 12 Benefits of Using Micro-Concrete with Jacketing for Structural Repairs

Aging structures, seismic impacts, and environmental exposure often lead to the deterioration of buildings, bridges, and other infrastructure. Micro-concrete with jacketing is a widely adopted technique in structural rehabilitation, offering an advanced solution for strengthening weak structural elements. Gubbi Civil Engineers specializes in micro-concrete jacketing services, ensuring enhanced durability, load-bearing capacity, and long-term protection for civil structures. Let’s explore the top 12 benefits of using micro-concrete with jacketing for structural repairs.

1. Increased Structural Strength and Load-Bearing Capacity

Enhancing structural strength is one of the main advantages of using micro-concrete with jacketing. This method is perfect for deteriorating or poorly built structures since it greatly boosts the load-bearing capacity of slabs, beams, and columns. Engineers can repair and enhance the functionality of compromised elements by employing high-strength micro-concrete, guaranteeing stability and safety over the long run.

2. Enhanced Durability and Longevity

Because of its exceptional durability, micro-concrete offers a strong remedy for aged structures. By adding an additional layer of reinforcement, the jacketing process guards against environmental damage, chemical exposure, and normal wear and tear. In order to prolong the life of buildings, bridges, and industrial structures and save future repair costs, Gubbi Civil Engineers makes sure that premium-grade micro-concrete materials are used.

3. Improved Seismic Resistance

Micro-concrete jacketing is essential for strengthening structures against seismic stresses in areas that are prone to earthquakes. This technique lowers the chance of collapse by making columns and beams more ductile, which helps absorb and disperse seismic energy. In order to increase earthquake resilience in both new and existing buildings, structural retrofitting with micro-concrete and jacketing has become the norm.

4. Quick and Efficient Installation Process

Micro-concrete jacketing provides a quicker and more effective application approach than conventional restoration techniques. Vibration is not necessary because of the material's self-compacting qualities, which provide even distribution and solid bonding. Gubbi Civil Engineers is the go-to option for vital infrastructure projects that need to be strengthened right away since it uses cutting-edge application techniques to save downtime.

5. Minimal Structural Alterations

The ability of micro-concrete jacketing to reinforce structures without appreciably changing their dimensions is one of its most notable advantages. This technique is a great option for spaces that are limited because it doesn't add a lot of bulk like steel plate reinforcement or concrete encasement does. Gubbi Civil Engineers makes sure that a structure's strength is increased without sacrificing its appearance or functionality.

6. Compatibility with Existing Structures

Micro-concrete is made to work very well with a variety of building materials, such as steel components, masonry, and reinforced concrete. By doing this, problems like differential settling or material incompatibility are avoided and a smooth integration with the current framework is guaranteed. By successfully bonding with the previous structure, the jacketing procedure restores its strength and functionality.

7. High Workability and Easy Application

Even under difficult circumstances, micro-concrete is simple to apply since it is flowable and self-leveling. It can cover all of the weak structural components because it can fit through small openings and confined spaces. Micro-concrete jacketing is applied precisely by Gubbi Civil Engineers, ensuring optimal performance and dependability for restored structures.

8. Cost-Effective Structural Strengthening Solution

Micro-concrete with jacketing is a more affordable option than complete demolition and reconstruction. It is a cost-effective approach to infrastructure repair since it cuts down on labor expenses, material waste, and project schedules. In order to ensure structural longevity without going over budget, Gubbi Civil Engineers provides reasonably priced micro-concrete jacketing services.

9. Superior Bonding Strength and Crack Resistance

Because of its strong bond with pre-existing concrete surfaces, micro-concrete resists de-bonding or delamination over time. It also has outstanding crack resistant qualities, which lowers the possibility of additional structural degradation. The jacketing procedure guarantees that restored structures have their original strength and integrity even under extreme stress.

10. Enhanced Corrosion Protection

One of the main causes of reinforced concrete constructions' deterioration is corrosion. An extra layer of defense is offered by micro-concrete jacketing, which protects steel reinforcements from environmental contaminants, chemicals, and moisture. Gubbi Civil Engineers guarantees long-term structural health by employing corrosion-resistant micro-concrete, which reduces the need for future maintenance.

11. Versatile Applications in Various Infrastructure Projects

Micro-concrete jacketing is appropriate for a variety of uses, including industrial building repairs and bridge retrofitting. In residential, commercial, and industrial buildings, this method is frequently used to reinforce foundations, retaining walls, beams, slabs, and columns. In order to satisfy the particular requirements of various infrastructure projects, Gubbi Civil Engineers offers customized micro-concrete jacketing solutions.

12. Sustainable and Eco-Friendly Repair Method

Micro-concrete with jacketing is a particularly environmentally friendly repair option as sustainability becomes a top concern in the building sector. It prolongs the life of existing structures, decreases material waste, and lowers the carbon footprint associated with full-scale restoration. Clients ensure strong structural performance and support sustainable construction methods by selecting Gubbi Civil Engineers for micro-concrete jacketing services.

With several advantages like improved durability, higher seismic resistance, and cost-effectiveness, micro-concrete with jacketing is a creative and dependable way to reinforce weaker structures. For residential, commercial, and industrial projects, Gubbi Civil Engineers specializes in providing superior micro-concrete jacketing services that guarantee long-term structural stability. Micro-concrete jacketing is a popular option for contemporary structural rehabilitation since it is crucial for preserving safety and functionality as infrastructure ages.

[fcscseo]

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[srjsteel]

Evolution and Impact of TMT Steel Bars in Construction

Quality construction needs high-quality reinforcing materials. To this end, TMT steel bars are integral to any building project today, be it small residential complexes or massive infrastructure undertakings, changing the course of construction forever with improved strength, durability, and cost-effectiveness.

Understanding TMT Technology and Its Advantages

TMT bars are a significant step ahead in steel reinforcement technology. The Thermo-Mechanical Treatment process forms bars that possess an optimal combination of strength and ductility. This unique manufacturing process involves the rapid quenching of the outer layer with a softer core, leading to excellent structural properties.

Major Advantages of TMT Steel Bars:

Tensile strength and yield strength

Better bendability and weldability

Excellent corrosion resistance

Stronger bond strength with concrete

Consistent quality along the length

Engineering Excellence Through Material Innovation

Best TMT bars provide remarkable benefits in structural engineering. The high yield strength allows designers to minimize the use of steel while still maintaining the integrity of the structure. This efficiency translates into:

Less material usage

Lower transportation costs

Rapid construction schedule

Better project economics

Seismic Performance and Safety Considerations

Seismic activity is now a major consideration for modern construction projects, and this is where TMT bars truly shine. The reinforcement materials show:

Superior ductility under seismic loads

Excellent energy absorption capacity

Reliable performance during extreme events

Enhanced structural strength

Quality Parameters and Manufacturing Standards

Excellent producers of TMT steel bars ensure strict quality control measures. The finest quality TMT bars are always designed and manufactured to satisfy or exceed relevant industrial standards regarding:

Chemical composition

Mechanical properties

Surface features

Dimensional tolerances

Performance in bend tests

Environmental Considerations and Sustainability

TMT steel bars assure sustainability in the construction industry through:

Minimum consumption of raw materials

Decreased carbon emissions

Longevity of structures

Less maintenance

E-waste reduction through recyclability

Applications of TMT Steel Bars

Residential Construction:

Foundation strengthening

Column and beam construction

Slab strengthening

Retaining walls

Infrastructure Projects:

Bridge construction

Road development

Underground construction

Marine use

Industrial Construction:

Factory structures

Warehouse buildings

Heavy machinery foundations

Storage tanks

Economic Benefits and Long-term Value

Quality TMT bars have a direct influence on both short-term construction costs and long-term maintenance needs. The most important economic factors include:

Optimized initial material cost

Less labor

Less maintenance

Longer structure life

Increased property value

Installation Best Practices

Proper installation will maximize the benefits of TMT steel bars:

Accurate placement and spacing

Proper binding techniques

Adequate concrete cover

Quality control in casting

Proper curing processes

Future Trends and Innovations

The TMT bar industry continues to grow through:

Advancements in manufacturing processes

Advanced coating techniques

Better methods of testing

Digital quality control systems

Ecological production methodologies

Selecting Wisely

When selecting the best TMT bars for a construction site, consider the following factors:

Manufacturer reputation and ratings

Technical standards and compliance

Cost and availability

Technical backup and documentation

Performance in similar applications

Quality Control and Testing

Any reliable TMT steel bar passes through stringent tests, including:

Tensile strength test

Bend performance test

Chemical composition testing

Surface checks

Dimension checks

Conclusion

The role of TMT bars in modern construction continues to grow as builders recognize their superior performance characteristics. Choosing the best TMT bars from reputable manufacturers ensures structural integrity, safety, and long-term durability in construction projects.

Through careful consideration of these factors, builders can make informed decisions that optimize both construction quality and project economics. The strategic use of high-quality TMT steel bars remains fundamental to achieving excellence in modern construction projects, ensuring structures that stand the test of time while meeting increasingly demanding performance requirements.

[proneterror204]

The kids of Casper high were going through a slight religion change. You see most kids in Casper high were fans of Phantom and the hero seemed to be spending time with alot of greek figures. Many people had seen him in the park with a tall Greek ghost woman called pandora, and if that was thee Pandora then phantom's dog, cujo, must be a hellhound. So if Phantoms was greek or a Greek spirit them maybe that could work for other people to.

It started during a football game and Dash saying a quick prayer to Ares for strength and Athena for strategy. That would work right? Or maybe Nikke? He didn't know but they won so I must have worked!

Then it was Star. Who was having trouble with a poetry project from Mr.Lancers English class. So a quick prayer to Apollo. And OMG look!! She got an A!

During a big thunder storm Kwan sent a prayer to Zeus for clear weather. Then it cleared! So it must have worked.

Mr.Lancer got wind of this, so when the teachers went out for a couple of drinks and a small party. He sent a small prayer to Dionysus for a good time. He woke up the next day with a huge hangover and a new girlfriend.

Walking down the hall Dash sent a prayer to Ares, then went after the 3 losers. After a quick fight he knocked Fenturd out clean.

Danny woke up later thinking He'd been slammed through building and cratered into concrete. How did DASH knock him out?!

Diana Prince, also known as Wonder Woman, was ecstatic! The Gods of Olympus were acting apon the world once again. But why were they so centered on a town called Amity Park?

[capaic]

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[bakuhve]

i just. i just think katsuki would be the absolute best boyfriend in the world.

but at the same time… like.. it’s gonna take a fat minute to get to that point. my katsuki and reader are always gonna have the dynamic of she fell first and hard but he fell absolutely harder. like face smashed into the ground, concrete cracked beneath his body, harder.

your story was never mutual love at first sight, no. you fell first. the kind of fall that leaves you breathless and stumbling, but still willing to get up and run straight toward him again.

you admired katsuki in every way imaginable. his strength, his drive, the way he never wavered even when the whole world seemed to be against him. your admiration turned into something deeper, something that made your heart squeeze and stomach flip. and you didn’t bother hiding your crush.

why should you? why would you ever keep your adoration for the man you loved a secret?

so you let it show. you gravitated towards him during class breaks, in the little favors you did for him without him asking, in the shameless way you told him over and over again that you liked him.

but back then, katsuki was an idiot.

a dumbass so hyper-focused on hero training and his own ambitions that he barely spared a thought for anything else. he knew you had a crush on him- how could he not? but at the time, he equated it to nothing more than annoying persistence. some stalkerish, over eager need to be by his side.

and oh, how he wants to throttle his past self for thinking this way.

because somewhere along the line, after countless battles, after seeing you at your highest highs and lowest lows, after realizing that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake you off- he started to not mind your presence.

then he started looking for it.

started craving it.

and like that, he fell.

only by the time he realized it, you weren’t the one constantly chasing anymore.

now it was him hovering near you at all times, subtly making excuses to be closer. he stole glances, catching himself staring at your hands and wondering what it would be like to just hold them.

and when you finally got together, when it turned into something real, katsuki was left fumbling into unfamiliar territory.

because he had no experience being this stupidly and sickeningly in love.

was he doing this right? was he too much? was he not enough? what the hell did a girl like you see in him?

and most of all, were his hands too damn clammy to be holding yours right now?

but then you squeeze his hand. and he squeezes yours back.

and just like that, all his doubts settle. because you’re his person. and he’s yours.

but yeah anyways lovesick reader and even more lovesick katsuki on top

[nnctales]

The Strength and Innovation of Prestressed Concrete

Introduction Prestressed concrete is a remarkable construction material that has revolutionized the way we build structures, offering exceptional strength and durability. This article will delve into the world of prestressed concrete, exploring its history, the science behind its strength, applications, advantages, and future prospects. Fig 1: Prestressed Concrete Courtesy: Civil Query  What is…

[kapilasteel]

The Advantages of Using Super Rings and TMT Steel for Structural Reinforcement

TMT Steel has revolutionized the development industry with its amazing power-to-weight ratio and advanced sturdiness in comparison to traditional reinforcement alternatives. When paired with modern accessories like Super Rings, structural initiatives gain great blessings in balance, longevity, and fee-effectiveness. Understanding these substances and their synergistic benefits helps developers make informed choices that affect creation pleasantly for decades to return.

The Evolution of Reinforcement Technology

Construction experts face consistent strain on stability mission prices with structural integrity necessities. Traditional mild steel reinforcement served its motive for generations; however, cutting-edge construction demands have shifted toward materials presenting stronger performance traits. TMT Steel emerged as a game-changer with the aid of introducing thermo-mechanical treatment procedures that essentially regulate steel's microstructure.

Key Performance Advantages of TMT Steel

Beyond primary power metrics, TMT Steel delivers precise benefits that translate to real-world creation benefits:

Superior Ductility: TMT steel's potential to bend without breaking proves crucial at some stage in seismic occasions, permitting systems to flex instead of failing catastrophically.

Weldability: Unlike some excessive-power alternatives, TMT Steel keeps tremendous weldability, simplifying on-site adjustments and connections.

Corrosion Resistance: The subtle grain structure of TMT Steel increases resistance to environmental degradation, extending provider lifespans in aggressive environments.

Fatigue Resistance: Cyclic loading—commonplace in bridges and business systems—causes less cumulative harm in TMT steel compared to conventional options.

For fee-conscious developers, the preliminary 8mm rod price per piece might appear slightly higher than fundamental reinforcement. However, calculations typically reveal average project savings through decreased material portions and lower labor fees. When the 8mm rod charge according to the piece is analyzed towards lifetime performance metrics, TMT Steel consistently demonstrates superior performance.

Complementary Role of Super Rings

While TMT Steel gives the primary reinforcement backbone, Super Rings function as essential spacing and positioning factors that maximize structural performance. These precision-manufactured additives preserve the right concrete cover and make certain reinforcement positioning all through concrete placement—elements that immediately affect structural overall performance.

Super Rings are available in various configurations designed for precise programs. The standard designs keep steady spacing between primary and secondary reinforcement layers, while specialized Super Rings include capabilities for difficult setup situations or particular structural requirements.

Selection Criteria for Quality Materials

When evaluating TMT Steel alternatives, shoppers must verify:

Manufacturing Certification: Legitimate TMT steel manufacturers observe standardized production protocols and exceptional management measures.

Grade Appropriateness: Different structural elements require precise TMT steel grades based on load conditions.

Surface Condition: Quality TMT steel exhibits regular surface traits without considerable defects.

Dimensional Accuracy: Precise rod diameters immediately affect structural calculations and overall performance.

Similarly, while sourcing Super Rings, key quality indicators include:

Material Composition: Premium Super Rings make use of corrosion-resistant substances with appropriate tensile residences.

Dimensional Consistency: Variations in Super Ring dimensions can compromise reinforcement positioning.

Load Capacity: Quality Super Rings keep functioning even beneath the weight of employees and wet concrete.

Compatibility: The best Super Rings work seamlessly with standard TMT steel dimensions.

Implementation Best Practices

Maximizing the advantages of those materials requires proper handling and setup:

Storage Protocol: TMT Steel should remain elevated from ground contact and be protected from excessive moisture.

Cutting Methods: Appropriate cutting techniques preserve TMT Steel's engineered properties.

Super Rings Placement: Systematic setup at specific intervals ensures consistent concrete cover.

Inspection Protocols: Quality assurance ought to verify each material and setup before concrete placement.

By combining top-class TMT steel with suitable Super Rings in accordance with engineering specs, builders create structures that outperform traditional creation strategies while optimizing cloth utilization and long-term sturdiness. This effective aggregate represents the destiny of structural reinforcement technology—turning in advanced overall performance metrics that translate to lasting cost for stakeholders.

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when your childhood best friend, satoru gojo carries you through the rain so your socks don’t get wet?

a/n: i missed the chance adding a scene like this on love thy neighbor 👹

"ugh, no. nope. i’m not walking through that."

you halt on the sidewalk like a pampered cat avoiding a puddle, your polished mary janes hovering dramatically over a wide sheet of grimy rainwater. your nose scrunches with disdain as you frown at the murky mess rippling over the uneven concrete. your arms are crossed high over your chest, blazer sleeves wrinkled and damp from gripping your umbrella like it personally offended you. the storm murmurs softly in the background—low thunder rumbling like a sleepy yawn, cars hissing by with sloshes of tire spray, the whisper of tree branches dripping above you.

behind you, satoru lets out a theatrical groan—deep, dramatic, and just exaggerated enough to be obnoxious. like he’s auditioning for a soap opera.

"it’s water, not lava," he drawls, standing just a few paces behind you, half-soaked and absolutely unbothered. his white button-up clings to his torso like a second skin, translucent where it’s stuck to his skin. the rain has darkened it enough to reveal the faint lines of his undershirt beneath, and the tips of his silver-white bangs are plastered to his forehead in chaotic strands. he shakes his head slightly, droplets flinging in every direction, as if he’s some golden retriever in human form.

"my socks," you state flatly, tone clipped and decisive, as if that alone should shut down the discussion. you angle your leg forward just enough to showcase the offending problem—white frilly ankle socks with delicate faux pearls stitched along the cuff. you tilt your chin, posture confident despite the drizzle misting your skin. "they’re new. and expensive. and limited edition."

satoru shifts his weight with a scoff, running a hand through his soaked hair. it flops back into place anyway. his tie hangs crooked and loose around his neck like he forgot it existed. his glasses are foggy, making his pout look vaguely scholarly. "god forbid your royal toes get damp. whatever shall we do?"

you shoot him a glare over your shoulder, one brow arched like you’re ready to launch a lawsuit. "i will push you into that gutter and make it look like an accident."

his grin breaks across his face instantly—wide, lazy, and all mischief. his blue eyes glint behind the foggy lenses. rain drips down the bridge of his nose and off the tip like punctuation. "please. you couldn’t even tip me over if you used both hands and a running start."

he’s always been like this—unshakably smug, insufferably tall, the kind of boy who got too handsome too young and decided to weaponize it. but he’s yours. the annoying, overgrown boy who used to share bento lunches with you and still calls your mom ‘auntie’ like you’re twelve again.

suddenly, without a word, he crouches. his school bag lands with a soft thunk on the nearest dry stoop, and he tilts his chin back to look at you.

"get on," he says.

you blink. once. twice. the rain drips rhythmically off your umbrella, trailing rivulets down the curve.

"...excuse me?"

"you’re not walking through that, right? so get on. before your overpriced socks file a class action."

he pats the backs of his thighs with both hands like this is a perfectly reasonable idea. he doesn’t even look back at you.

"you are not carrying me," you say, scandalized. your voice pitches higher, more out of pride than disbelief. you narrow your eyes and toss your wet bangs from your forehead. "this isn’t a k-drama."

"don’t flatter yourself, diva. you’re tiny. i’ll survive."

"i swear to god, satoru—"

"think of the socks. their sacrifice would be in vain."

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. you look up at the stormy sky as if asking some divine entity for strength, before stepping forward with all the dramatics of a tragic heroine. your shoes click exaggeratedly against the pavement as you adjust your skirt, clutch your umbrella in one hand, and prepare for the social suicide of being princess-carried down a public street.

"this is humiliating," you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck half-heartedly. your cheek grazes his as you shift your weight against his back. he’s warm despite the rain. sturdy.

"you love it," he says smoothly, rising like you weigh nothing. he adjusts his grip around your thighs and angles the umbrella so it shields you both better, though the side of his face still gets peppered by stray drops. "you’ll tell this story at our wedding, won’t you?"

you splutter. "delusional."

he hums, unconcerned. his steps are slow and exaggerated, carefully avoiding puddles with exaggerated grace, like he’s performing for an invisible audience.

rain beads on his lashes. he doesn’t blink them away, just keeps humming under his breath—some tune from that magical girl anime you watched with him last weekend out of boredom. or maybe affection. not that you’d admit it.

"if you drop me, i’m telling your mom," you warn, voice muffled slightly against the slope of his neck.

"if i drop you, it’s because your couture socks distracted me with their hideous sparkle."

you gasp so loudly a couple walking past under a shared umbrella actually turns to look.

"they’re elegant, you fashion criminal."

"they look like something you hot-glued onto your doll’s clothes in third grade."

"they’re vintage inspired!"

he grins again, quieter this time. it reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners.

"nah, they’re cute. you’re cute."

a pause.

the air stills just enough to notice the sound of a single raindrop hitting metal, distant thunder mumbling behind the clouds.

your fingers, damp and chilly, twitch just slightly against the curve of his collarbone. the fabric of his shirt clings between you, and your breath feels embarrassingly warm against his skin.

he doesn’t say anything else.

and you don’t let go.

not even when the rain begins to ease, not even when the sidewalk turns dry, and definitely not when your socks stay perfectly, gloriously dry.

[0bticeo]

air sex with mark. reader has begged him to take her flying before, but bouncing on his dick in the sky is new for him. i feel like at first he would be hesitant, but then would enjoy the thrill of showing off his strength. and maybe he also likes the idea of someone looking up and seeing, as a treat

WHAT'S NEXT, ALIEN SEX?

summary:

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil.

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit.

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

tw: air sex, piv sex, fingering, slightly ooc!mark but it'll make sense in part 3 i prommy, switch!mark, cunnilingus, mark being whipped, fluff, couples fighting together against a common enemy à la will turner/elizabeth swann minus the swords, if u know who the art belongs to pls lmk so i can give credit pls, the author being a vv slow writer and apologising, pls show my bby some love and leave a comment, mwah

part 2 to boyfriend material

having a superhero boyfriend has its perks. 

sure, you may get interrupted mid-date by a world-ending emergency or a bank robbery - because invincible has range like that. sure, cecil stedman has you on watch because anybody that gets close to mark gets the GDA premium treatment of you-could-potentially-be-useful-so-we-keep-a-close-eye-on- you-in-case-something-happens. and sure, nolan grayson's ice cold gaze - assessing, cutting, predatory - sets you on edge.

but at the end of the day, you're in love with mark grayson. mark grayson is invincible. so you love invincible. perfect syllogism. however, you could really do without the flaxans invading downtown chicago in the middle of your coffee date. 

“seriously? it’s the third time this month!”

he sends you an apologetic look over his sugary monstrosity of a beverage. something with so much caramel and whipped cream you’re getting vertigo just by looking at the damn thing. viltrumite biology-induced cravings, maybe?

you’re cut in your musings by panicked passer-bys running for their lives.

he takes a sip through his straw, brown eyes darkening, split earth after a thunderstorm. a little pout has his lips curling downwards. you kiss it away, a short, sweet peck that has him smiling against your mouth.

“karma’s a bitch,” you grumble, downing your coffee - black, no sugar because you’re no heathen.

mark lets out a huff of laughter, something awfully soft in his eyes. his fingers lace with yours, bringing your hand to his lips.

“c’mon, baby. duty calls.”

duty is a damn bitch is what she is. one flick of your wrist has your civilian outfit - pretty, casual, a nice little sundress that had mark do a double take because you don’t wear these that often - melting away in the shadows, replaced by your trademark coat and catsuit. 

shadow’s back in the game and she’s pissed.

(her boyfriend’s struggling in the men’s room with his invincible suit, because clark kent makes wearing his super suit under his everyday clothes seem easy, but it really isn’t.)

it’s a bloodbath. 

downtown chicago has been turned into a one-sided battlefield, the harsh, viscous green of alien skin burnt into your retina. your jaw ticks. they’re aiming at civilians, laser beams turning innocents into fine, bloody paste.you witness a little girl, no older than five, face half melted in the concrete, whimpering as she takes her last breath. a twenty something college student cradling his abdomen, innards spilling out. christ’s sake, a dog, half eviscerated, crawling towards its dying master, man’s most loyal companion.

you step forward, cracking your knuckles. 

“sorry lads. the earth is closed today.”

the sun is still high above, a witness to dull afternoon hours turned into a horror scene. your shadow spreads and spreads, encompassing the army standing before you. you tilt your head, eyes rolling back behind your domino mask as you call in the darkness. the shadows twist. you raise your hand, pointing at the first few ranks aiming at you, barking in their language. 

further back, near the portal, on what appears to be their equivalent of a tank, their leader, face marred by a long, jagged scar running from his brow to his lips. they twist in a snarl upon glimpsing your silhouette. he raises an arm, finger vengefully pointed at you. ah, so they do recognise you.

looks like somebody didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of your tridagger. pity.

you clench your hand into a fist. it doesn’t deter them, the way the ground shifts under their boots. the slow corruption of the concrete below, as it is rendered one with the dark. your shadow’s stretched out enough to encompass all of them and give them a nice, cosy one way trip to the shadow dimension. its many beasts are hungry for fresh meat. maybe then they’ll stop ruining your dates.

something shifts when the first bullet manages to hit you, the laser burning away both leather and kevlar. blood drips from your shoulder.

“oooh, so you want it close and personal, huh?”

 you grin and throw yourself in the fray, black cloying the edges of your vision.

adrenaline courses through your veins. your shadows move along with you, sliding and shifting, the ground caving in treacherously under the aliens’ feet. concrete splits open. the one on your left shouts, beady eyes wide and panicked, and shoots. bang. dodge, duck, slam your foot at the back of its knee and watch the fucker fall into the abyss. kick up its rifle and shoot. slam it in an alien’s skull before it gets to you.

the scent of charred flesh fills your nostrils. ah. you’ve been hit again. spots dance in front of your vision. you take a hit. another. another - your lips split, grin flashing wide as your hand pierces feeble tactical gear. blood drips on the ground. the alien looks at the gaping hole in its sternum.

(shadows bend to your will, you’ve explained to mark when you first met, on the edge of midnight city where you hail from. your legs were dangling carelessly at the edge of a skyscrape under his watchful gaze. even then, even before the both of you became something too much to be put into words, he wanted you safe.

you’ve demonstrated it for him. harmless things, your fingers molding together, shapes taking form on the wall, shadows rippling as they came to life, dripping down like ink as small rabbits hopped out of the dark and around mark’s legs. 

you’ve shown the lethality of it. 

your gloved hands shifted, middle and index fingers pointing towards an approaching thug, other hand cradling your curled fingers.

bang.)

you’re laughing, cradling the poor thing’s heart, darkness like ink coating your fingers like a glove. you  make it sharper, deadlier. 

a shift behind you. the burning energy of a laser bullet aimed your way, straight for the head. too fast for you to dodge. 

a fist closes on it. 

you smile, lazily.

“mm. you’re late, invisible.”

invincible grins, a little sharp, wiping away flaxan blood on his suit, red a stark contrast against the bright yellow of it. lasers ricochet off him, rippling across his broad back as he turns to face you, shielding you with that cocky little grin you love. he rolls his shoulders, barely affected by it. you bite your lip at the sight.

“sorry, shade. you wouldn’t believe the traffic.” 

he moves, liquid smooth, hands on your hips as he shifts you away from an opponent. you use the momentum to head kick the fucker, its jaw giving away with a sickening crack under your soles. a sharp, screeching sound as it crumbles to the ground. you kick up its rifle, leaning on it with a sigh.

a tilt of your fingers and a shield rises before you, lasers sizzling against the surface.

invincible’s lips brush your jaw, gaze lazily surveying the progression of the flaxan troops.

“can i make up for it?” he breathes. “being late?”

even with his goggles hiding his eyes, you feel the weight of his gaze, something that has heat settling low in your core. his grin sharpens at that, nose brushing against the sliver of skin left bare by your suit. his thumbs rub small circles on your hip bones, and you’re intimately aware of how close he is, the firm line of his body pressing against yours, all hard edges, battle-honed. you lean back into him.

“maybe later. y’know, when earth isn’t invaded by murderous aliens.”

he chuckles, pressing a soft little kiss to your cheek. you gasp when he squeezes your ass. cheeky bastard.

“lemme deal with that.”

and fuck, the way he tears into them and slams their leader into the nearest building, fingers digging in the soft, breakable flesh of its throat, concrete shattering upon impact… you watch, eyes wide behind the lenses of your domino mask, as he crushes its skull between his hands, the bone brittle under his palms.

he turns back to look at you, floating above the battlefield, sun setting low behind his frame, his shadow stretching and stretching. blood drips down his clenched fist. you think of the deadly edge of a sword, perfectly poised, teetering on the edge of carnage. 

the flaxans look up, panicked, and aim at him. 

“sorry guys.” he cracks his knuckles, his grin sharp. “can’t keep my girl waiting.”

and fucking hell, you think as you leap towards the now empty tank, taking advantage of them being distracted. you should be focused on smashing the device creating their portals. it’d be easy enough, to use the shadows as an exoskeleton to enhance your strength. 

it would be, if mark wasn’t so bloody gorgeous while smashing his enemies to pieces. you think you hear him laugh as he does, something almost boyish. sunlight hits him, all goldens and reds - so much red, dripping down his chin, staining his goggles. you watch the lean muscles ripple under his suit, the way his fingers flex as he curls them into fists, the way his shoulders tense. the way he toys with them, faster than they can perceive, dodging their shots at the very last second. he’s making them harm their own kin.

snap out of it.

you smash your rifle against the complex machinery beeping before you. utterly unrefined, but you’re not exactly well-versed in alien mechanics, so it’ll have to do. the green light of the portal fizzles out. it’s closed.

mark flies above, lazily cracking his wrist.

a low, mournful cry rises from the troops.

//

you’re standing in a secluded alleyway, having bravely fled from the crowd of journalists creeping closer to the scene of carnage. 

“wasn’t that meg?” you muse, taking off your domino mask with a relieved sigh.

mark’s thumbs find the underside of your eyes, gently massaging the skin where your mask has been pressing.

“oh, her?” 

he pouts. you giggle at that, leaning into his touch. gently, you pry off his mask, revealing what has to be humanity’s most devastating puppy eyes.

“what? she’s pretty.” a conspiratorial smirk. “i need to know where she bought that skirt.”

his hands drop from your face, lightly resting on your waist in a way that makes something primal in you purr. he’s soft with you, mindful of the cuts on your shoulder, on your forearm. from this close, you can smell him, sharp ozone, and something distinctly mark that has you almost nuzzling him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. 

“actually that’s not a bad idea.” he grins. “it would look good on my bedroom floor.”

“mark, you little-”

“what? would you prefer your bedroom floor?”

you slap his chest.

he cackles at that, looking down at you like you’re something precious.

you inch closer, hands pressed up against his chest. you watch as his pupils dilate, a never-ending void consuming the soft brown of his eyes. his gaze darts down to your lips and he frowns. his thumb brushes away a small drop of blood oozing from the thin line where your lower lip has been split.

his thumb meets the tender skin of your mouth and you press a soft kiss to the tip of it. 

mark finds his heart stuttering in his chest. you’d think he’d be used to have you by now. three months in, tangled up in each other in both hero work and school work and yet there he is, back pressed up against the washed up wall of a dingy alleyway come dusk, flushing under your adoring gaze. 

you’re devouring him, hunger practically oozing off of you as you take him in, all firm lines and soft gazes. god, you think michelangelo might weep in despair for having died in an era without him to immortalize. his hand clenches, long, slender fingers left bare by his suit flexing smoothly in a motion that has you pressing your thighs together with a soft sigh. 

dusk settles over chicago, golden sunbeams brushing the sharp edge of his jaw and you raise your hand to trace it, absently. a smile curls up your lips when he leans into your touch, as your gloved fingers brush past his jaw to go up, up, up, carding through the soft mess of his hair. blood and viscera got stuck in it. he does get violent when he fights, you muse, absently.

there’s still blood splattered on his suit.

maybe you love him a little too much. maybe you should be worried your boyfriend once tore out one of the mauler twins’ head for having made fun of your hair, laying it before your feet like an offering. doesn’t matter when you feel him against you, hard and wanting. doesn’t matter when he’s burying his face in your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin, marking you. 

what happens next can probably be explained by a mix of sleep deprivation, adrenaline, and not having seen your boyfriend for two months. fuck martians. fuck the nasa. fuck cecil. 

“mark?”

“mm?”

he keeps pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck, hands already reaching for the small, silver zipper of your catsuit. 

“fuck me while you fly us home.”

he freezes, parting from you. you nearly whine at the loss.

“wha- baby are you…?”

a soft flush blooms on his cheek and you coo, peppering soft kisses to his sweet face.

“c’mon… it’d be fun…”

you send him that look. the look that had him reeling at teen team’s base after a group mission. the look that had him fucking you in their showers, one hand firmly clasped on your mouth to muffle your moans as you heard rex and eve arguing outside. the look that had him fighting for his life under cecil’s no-nonsense gaze during briefings. the look that kept him company during his two months trip to space, palming himself through his suit to the thought of you.

fuck martians and their unchecked sequids invasion, he wanted you by his side. 

he has you now, so he puts his mask back on and pulls you close, breathing you in. coffee. that one vanilla and caramel perfume you love. blood. his thumb grazes the cut on your shoulder. you squirm in his grip.

“let’s get you home, mm? i’ll patch you up there.”

he scoops you up in his arms, fingers digging in the fat of your thighs as your legs wrap around his - sinfully small - waist. you’re in the air before you know it, arms wound tight around his neck, gloved fingers playing with what little baby hair is left uncovered by his mask. he shudders at the contact, a small whimper leaving his lips, barely audible with the roaring of the wind whipping past you.

you glance down. chicago stretches out, glimmering gold. at the edge of the horizon, you watch the sun set, all-consuming gold bleeding into creeping night blue. mark keeps flying you higher, careful not to go too high, where the air would be too rare for you to breathe.

your fingers dig in his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. he wouldn’t let you fall, you know.

(you’re in his bed, still panting, flushed and full in a way you’ve never felt before. mark has gathered you in his arms, and you’re curled up against him, head on his chest as he strokes your hair. he hasn’t been this relaxed in a long time, and you’re putty in his hands. 

you inch closer, fingers lacing with his, lips pressed to his knuckles. the bruises from his last fight are fading.

“mark?”

“yeah?”

“i meant it, y’know. i’m falling for you.”

he stills, a split-second of terrifying second-guessing. too much? too soon? you open your mouth, mortification creeping in. you close it when you meet his eyes, impossibly fond, the softest you’ve seen them yet.

“don’t worry. i’ll catch you. always. can’t have my baby falling.”

you boop his nose.

“sap.”

there’s a wide grin on your face. your heart feels light.)

his grip on you tightens. his lips brush against your ear, his voice low.

“i need you, baby.”

you feel his breath, harsh and heavy on your nape, the way his shoulders tense, adrenaline still coursing through him. your fingers palm his bulge, and you grin against his collarbone when you find him hard and wanting. you can feel the outline of his cock, even through the damn kevlar. you think you might feel the way he’s leaking through his boxers, too, tip flushed the same pretty shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. palm pressing in, grinding against the kevlar of his suit, you look up at him.

his breath catches. his hips stutter, his flight grows haphazard. his lips part in a soft, ragged little exhale of your name. you don’t think you’ve seen him this needy, with the way he presses you close - not just for safety - his hands somehow managing to knead your breasts, your ass, your thighs. 

it has you clenching your thighs, desperate for any kind of friction.

you lean closer, a soft whisper in his ear, lost to the icy wind nipping at your cheeks.

“is it the suit that turns you on?”

“it’s just…” he lets out something suspiciously close to a whimper. frustrated. needy. “i’m not sure how we should do this, y’know? logistically, i mean. i won’t let you fall, you know that, but what if-”

you press your lips to his, sweetly, softly. he melts against you. it feels like the roaring of the world has finally stopped, his mind a delicious, blissful blank. he’s stopped flying, he realises absently, pulling you close to him by the waist. you shiver, nestling against him, eager for warmth - viltrumites run hot. a side effect of having to fly in cosmic depths. 

he shudders deliciously when your nose brushes the sharp edge of his jaw, your mouth hot against his pulse, rabbit-fast under your ministrations. 

“baby…”

“you think too much,” you breathe.

he lets out something like a strangled gasp when you bring your hips closer to his, thigh brushing his aching cock. you stroke his cheek over his mask and he’s burning, inches away from ripping his suit off and fucking you senseless. 

he leans into your touch with a sigh, nuzzling your palm. 

“hey.” you give him a tiny eskimo kiss. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“no, i want to.” 

his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in the fat of them hard enough to leave bruises. he wonders how long it will take him to lose control, with the way you look at him like that, flushed and needy, practically gasping for air, like you can only breathe when his mouth is on yours. 

still he hesitates, because there’s something about the way you press yourself against him, catsuit drenched in blood, about the soft ripples of darkness fluttering along the edges of your coat, about how fucking out of it he makes you -

he couldn’t stay away from you if he tried, even if he should, for your sake.

he all but pins you against him, relishing in the feeling of your smaller frame pressed tight against the broad expanse of him, his hand finding its way to your chest, to that small, tantalising zipper between your collarbones. his thumb brushes the sliver of skin you’ve left exposed. for comfort, you said. 

he flashes you a grin, thumb soft on your pulse. persistent. deadly.

“comfortable?”

you splutter.

“mark!”

“that’s invincible to you, shadow.”

your jaw snaps shut. you swallow. right. no names while wearing the suit, but fuck. it’s getting hard to breathe, and the lack of oxygen isn’t at fault. mar- invincible cups your chest, hand gently squeezing the soft mound under your suit. you feel your heart hammer violently under his touch and know he feels it too. he hums, finger circling your nipple, the kevlar brittle under his touch. the motion, the rush of air as he slowly makes his way through the skies, the only thing stopping you from plummeting to your death being him-

it has you wet beyond reason.

“invincible,” you whine, desperate. 

it gets to him, the way your voice softens, the way your hips grind against his thigh mindlessly. he can’t see your face, with the way you’ve been trying to bury it in his chest, with a flustered noise.

fuck, you’re cute.

he pins you to him, your back to his chest, one strong arm locking you in place, a vice grip around your middle. you bite back a soft cry, his erection firmly pressed against your ass. his mouth presses against your neck, a hint of teeth against your carotid that has you gasping his name.

his fingers grasp the zipper, the motion a delicate little thing. cold air hits your skin and you whimper softly, invincible’s cheek nuzzling yours as he pulls it down, down, down, until your breasts spill out of your suit, nipples pebbled and aching, until his fingers reach your cunt.

“shit…” 

you see him bite his lip from the corner of your eye. his fingers dip between your lips, teasingly, barely brushing against your clit, enough for him to find you soaked and eager.

“all for me?”

you smile at his eagerness, at the (almost) innocent surprise in his voice. 

“you see anyone else here?”

he nips your earlobe, grinning wide against your ear.

“cheeky.”

you and invincible- fuck it, you and mark had sex before. hell, you lost your virginity to him in what has to be one of the most intimate moments in your life. but this? this is close second. this, you and mark, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, head in the clouds, watching as the sun sets. mark’s lips slot against yours, your head tilting back to meet him halfway, his fingers curling in you in a way that has you seeing stars.

he sweeps your coat away with a soft growl.

“careful! it’s a gift!”

“yeah, a very inconvenient one.”

“you gifted it to me you- ah!”

somewhere along the way, he managed to free his cock, the bite of the cold air harsh against his leaking tip. you let out a soft whine of protest when he drags it along your folds, robbed of the sinful vision of his leaking tip. 

“m’gonna put it in, okay?” he babbles against your ear, hips grinding against your ass. “oh, baby-”

he lets out a low, soothing sound, nuzzling your neck as he drives himself deeper in you, until you’re clawing at his bicep with a keen.

“m-mark-”

it’s one thing to have him take you from behind, his hand warm and steady on your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him. it’s another to do it in the air, where you have little to no leverage to make him feel good, too. 

“fuck- do you like it?” he rasps, hips snapping forward.

“mm-”

you’re caught in the in-between, the cold air nipping at your skin, mark hot and heavy behind you, fucking up into you like he’d die if he didn’t. your vision blurs at the edges. it’s too much, the delicious drag of his fingers as he teases your clit, the way his cock fills you to the brim. so fucking warm you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of heat. 

looking down would mean a casual reminder of your situation, hundreds of feet above ground, but you do. the sight has you moaning, wanton and debauched, with the way mark’s cock has your lower abdomen bulging out ever so slightly with each thrusts. 

you don’t even realise he’s leaning back until you’re faced with a flurry of emerging stars, watching you from lightyears away. he’s practically lying down in the clouds, the humidity of it raising goosebumps on your heated skin, like he’s baring you to the world.

slowly, he pulls out and has you straddle him, facing him.

he grins up at you, hands resting on your hips, thumbs drawing soothing circles on your hips as you sink down on him with a soft little moan of his name.

“talk about being on cloud nine.”

you snort.

“and i’m the cheeky one?”

“absolutely. my cheeky, adorably fucked-out girlfriend.”

you open your mouth to bite back when his cock hits that sweet, sweet little spot inside of you and your words die in a low, needy little moan. he’s taken off his mask, you realise, absently, discarding it god knows where. he’s taken off his mask, and he’s looking up at you like you’re his sun.

and you’re beautiful, he thinks, running his hand along the slope of your neck, relishing in the contact, in the way you melt against him. absolutely breathtaking, the setting sun cradling you in gold until, shadows framing the dips and planes of you as you ride him until you come apart. he groans, watching your slick coat the base of his shaft, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth until he’s bursting at the seams, your name the only constant on his lips as his hips buck up into you. 

“mmm fuck- i wanna try something-”

“mmn?”

he grins, something a little sweet, a little sharp. there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s up to no good.

“sit on my face.”

“you- mark!”

“what? i won’t let you fall. besides… i did say i’d eat you out, didn’t i?”

you’re trembling, when he slides out of you and pulls you to him, eager, arms wrapped around your parted thighs as he settles you over his mouth. you keen at the first contact of his tongue against your cunt, hips bucking up instinctively. he groans against you, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. 

“taste so good, baby…”

he’s looking straight at you, feeling his cock harden as you grind yourself on his face, the lapels of your coat spread out on his abdomen like he’s about to spread you out, thumbs parting your nether lips to sink deeper in you, to taste you better. 

next thing you know, he’s sinking his fingers in you and sucking at your clit, the sharp press of his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves a shock to your system. you fist his hair and feel him tense beneath you, his eyes hooded as they take you in.

“mark- mark i can’t-”

he presses a soft kiss to your clit. sweet. reverent. you don’t know if you find it cute or unfairly hot, not with the way you’re dizzy with him, begging for something, anything. something in you builds, coils low in your underbelly and snaps, leaving mark’s lips drenched and his eyes rolling back in his sockets with a strangled moan. you make out more than you feel his hips stuttering, coming to a stop as he cums.

there’s a ringing in your head. nagging. persistent. it won’t go away, no matter how badly you want to shake it off. the world is narrowed down to you, mark, and the way his tongue gently lap at your oversensitive cunt, cleaning you up with tiny kitten licks that have your heart hammering in your chest.

then, slowly, he peels back from you, his face ruined by your slick. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he pulls back, a teasing little bite, and zip up your suit.

“can’t have you catching a cold on me, can i?”

the sun sets. mark grayson tucks you in his arms and flies you to midnight city as you doze off, his heartbeat strong and steady against your ear. he looks at you, all pressed up against his chest, head leaning against his shoulder, and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

when he gets to your home - a small little flat tucked away in sixth avenue, midnight city, seventh floor, third window to the left - he lays you down on the couch and fetches the med kit. you curl up into yourself, half-asleep, reaching for the soft blanket draped on the armrest. a little meow interrupts you, nero looking up at you blearily. you scratch him behind his ears and watch at your cat falls back asleep on the blanket, his little paws curling. 

mark takes in the sight of you, sleepily petting your grumpy furball of a cat, the two of you curled up on the couch, and feels something tug at his heart. affection. boundless love, the kind that would raze cities and bring civilisations to ashes if needed be. he settles next to you, med kit on the coffee table, helping you shrug off your coat and catsuit.

“it’s not too deep.”

his hand brushes your shoulder, relishing the contact with your soft skin. you hum, drowsy, exhaustion catching up with you.

he patches you up, quietly, pulling you close once he’s done. he breathes you in, burying himself in your hair, taking in your flat. a little messy, books everywhere, little plants soaking up sunlight because you like your tomatoes and basil fresh. your cat, snoring lightly on the armrest. you, breathing slowing down, curling up against him with a soft little: “thanks.”

he leans back on the couch, pulling you closer, and thinks, stroking your hair.

he’s been deep in the abysses of earth and felt the tides struggle against him, trying to push back. he’s been close to its core, and felt gravity weigh him down, a feeble attempt at bringing him to his knees. he’s been in space. he’s seen supernovas burn before his eyes, stood before a black hole and watched the event horizon as it tried to pull him into its orbit, a gaping, hungry maw.

but, at the end of the day, it’s you he orbits around, the earth to your sun. 

taking the liberty to tag the the amazing ppl that left comments on my mark os: @gaiasmight @vinnyvamppp @odessa-is-my-queen @shadylilac @linkwho1 @tokoyamisstuff @sp4ceboo

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ thinking of summer slasher!pazzi...

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

cw: slight gore, sexual tension, light sexual content, manipulation, morally ambiguous!p, morally ambiguous!a, the power of lesbians vs murder, unhealthy relationships bc y'all...p is killing people. but she loves her girl.

notes: i did not intend for this be 10.2k when i started. so, there's that. as always, feel free to give me all of your thoughts in my inbox. let me know who you think the other killer is. i try my best to respond to it all.

p.s. please don't date your best friend who's obsessed with you if she's murdering people, no matter how beautiful and charismatic she is.

okay, love you.

𓇼 it’s one of those summers marked by memories smeared with heat and a lazy humidity that fills you with a sun-soaked exhaustion. the girls are taking part in a training camp for the season. they flush with warmth and glitter with sweat, muscles flexing under tanned skin as they stumble in and out of cool gyms and concrete courts. the best parts come after when they lay alongside one another, tan lines left behind by the tightly tied straps of their bikini bottoms, slices of sunburned skin coming up rosy despite the efforts to slather on sunscreen. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. they know one another, can recognize one another by laugh—morgan’s is sweeter, clear like a bell. kk’s is child-like, loose giggles with a rise in the middle. they know who is standing above them by the slant of a shadow. this perfect space, the smell of it will haunt them forever: something deep blue, sticky with coconut, cream, and vanilla. a memory of artificial fruit smoke and the moon shape of golden thighs atop golden thighs.

𓇼 at the center of it all lies paige with her river of blonde hair only growing blonder in the sun, her violet swimsuit revealing perfect scoops of sun-darkened skin. she keeps her sunglasses tucked right on top of her head, her toned stomach flexing in and out as she rotates on the soft blanket they have spread out on the grass (there are no more chairs). 

𓇼 her shadow, azzi, has her head right on her thigh. she feels bleary and disoriented, the sun shining down with a strength that feels personal. her swimsuit is sugary baby pink, a sweet match to the girl lying underneath her. her curls have been dragged into a high bun in frustration, baby hairs slick against her neck as she sweats. her belly piercing sparkles, calls the eye to the soft dip of her hips and the thin strip of her bikini bottom.

𓇼 paige is terribly hot below her but she wouldn’t move azzi for anything, instead pressing loose strands out of the other girl’s eyes as azzi tries to sleep. 

𓇼 eventually azzi rolls over, patting a hand loosely on paige’s stomach as a thank you for being her human pillow. paige grins, gives in to her boyish nature and pinches the curve where azzi’s thigh meets her ass. 

𓇼 “you’re such a fucking teenage boy,” azzi murmurs. paige laughs, reties the strings of her swimsuit top. “you love me.”

𓇼 azzi does. it makes her stomach roll. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. and then they hear the news.

azzi can’t hear anything past the buzzing in her ears.

three female students found dead. 

the newscaster's voice snakes around her, and drags her to the pool’s tiled floor. her chest burns as she holds her breath, her heart close to bursting.  the world is watery and filtered bright blue through the pool water; the sky is an endless slur of pinks, oranges, and purples. 

the sun is setting, the world going dark, and there are three students—three girls—dead by knife at a camp nearby. three girls she knew in passing, had watched stretch and laugh together on the sands just before a friendly game of beach volleyball. 

the police had said they might’ve been dead for days, up to two weeks. aubrey had switched off the broadcast, visibly shaken and trying to spare the rest of them. jana had sat silent and still, frozen as the older girl pried the remote free from her grip.

she might be crying. with all of this water, it’s so hard to tell. azzi closes her eyes right as the pool lights come on and more water surges in from the jets, the chlorine smell made almost unbearable by the onslaught of the propellers. she has at most fifteen minutes before someone notices she’s gone—five max before paige realizes she’s slipped out from beside her. 

azzi stays under until her lungs scream, until she can’t.

until the burn in her lungs forces her up, air slicing hot into her chest as she breaks the surface. the sky is darker now, the last streaks of sunlight bleeding out into deep navy. the lampposts lining the pool deck have flickered on, turning the concrete a smokier grey and the water a deeper, artificial blue, shimmering against the tile.

azzi drags a hand down her face, slicking back her hair with wrinkled fingertips, and that’s when she sees her—paige, sitting at the water’s edge, feet dipped in, watching. azzi exhales, slow, tries to settle the way her body still hums with nerves.

“you good?” paige asks, voice easy, head tilting just slightly.

azzi doesn’t answer right away. she pushes forward, the water parting around her as she swims to where paige sits. she stops between her legs, lets her head tip forward, forehead resting against paige’s thigh.

paige doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift away. just smooths a hand over the crown of her curls, fingers lingering at the nape of her neck.

“i’m really scared,” azzi says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “i knew those girls.”

paige hums, a soft, knowing sound. “i know. jesus. i hope they catch those fucking freaks.”

azzi shifts closer, pressing her face into paige’s stomach. she clutches at paige’s back, now covered by an oversized camp shirt, fingers twisting in the cotton fabric. it’s a hold that feels instinctive, that’s symptomatic of the heavy intimacy of their friendship—something azzi’s done before, maybe a thousand times, but never quite like this. paige lets her, like she always does, one hand still at the nape of azzi’s neck, the other resting easy on her shoulder. 

she’s warm and solid. the kind of presence that makes azzi feel safer.

for a moment, they just stay like that, the quiet settling thick between them. the distant hum of crickets, the low lap of water against the mouth of the pool. paige is the first to break it.

“what, you think you’re in a horror movie or something?” she teases, but there’s something serious about her tone, too.

azzi huffs a quiet laugh, but it barely reaches her eyes. “maybe,” she mutters. “i mean the situation matches up.”

paige tilts her head, studies her. “you’d make a shitty final girl, you know.”

azzi scoffs, pulling back just enough to glance up at her. “excuse me?”

paige grins, slow, shifting the hand on her shoulder to tap a finger against azzi’s chin. “you’d be too nice about it. you’d try to help, and then—” she makes a little slicing motion across her throat. “lights out.”

azzi rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch, betraying her.

“lucky for me,” she says, resting her chin against paige’s thigh now, eyes flickering up, “i have a history of surviving things.”

paige hums, gaze first flicking behind azzi as if she can see the puckered scar over her knee from here, and then back to her face like she’s turning something over in her mind. then, with a quiet finality, she says, “hey. you’re okay.”

it should be comforting. it almost is. but it lingers, just a little too long.

and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like reassurance. it feels like a promise. azzi squeezes the sides of paige stomach and pushes past the unease in her own. 

“we both are,” she says.

𓇼 so, then it changes. no one goes anywhere alone, day or night. it takes some getting used to, the constant partnership. it’s more than they are used to, even as teammates. the extra measures come with their own irritations. 

𓇼 jana grumbles as she’s basically kicked awake by sarah to go to the bathroom with her at three in the morning. morgan’s nose twitches anxiously like a rabbit as she asks aubrey to come to get food with her at the mess hall, and the others try not to laugh when aubrey makes an off-hand remark about how she never realized just how much morgan snacks in a day.

𓇼 but azzi…azzi feels a little like the chosen one. because god, paige never complains. 

𓇼 if azzi wakes in the early morning with an urge to pee, paige is already unlinking their legs in their shared bed and sliding out to go with her. when azzi can’t sleep and sneaks to the living room of their cabin, just to read on her own, paige follows blinking weakly like a child with her bedding over her shoulder. she shoves azzi to the side, sinking down into the ancient cushions and bringing the blankets to her chin as she easily falls back asleep. azzi will go to say thank you, to tell her she’s sorry, but paige will only reach out a large hand and squeeze azzi’s sweaty one as if to tell her knock it off. it’s what i’m here for. and it's vice versa. 

𓇼 things seem to calm down. maybe it really was just a freak occurrence. camp comes to a close and the girls move on to another one, this time a larger one interspersed with girls from other college basketball teams. no one talks about the volleyball girls. it’s the one silent rule: don’t ruin a good time with the ghost of the girls you once knew, please! and lock the doors behind you when you leave the gym late!

𓇼 but azzi doesn’t forget, and it turns out she’s right not to—because it happens again. 

𓇼 the morning it happens, the air tastes wrong as if the trees have stopped producing oxygen entirely. the counselors try to shield them from it, but there's no hiding this—another girl, another athlete, this time from duke, found behind the equipment shed. the world slows down, gets sticky and hot, and impossible. azzi is struggling to breathe, a hand over her mouth as she tries not to throw up. her other hand is occupied by ice’s tight hold.

𓇼 there are whispers of coincidence, of copycat killers, of something worse. the camp directors hold an emergency meeting. no one is to leave their cabins after dark. no one is to be alone, not even for a minute.

the shower runs too hot against azzi's skin, but she doesn't adjust it. her muscles ache from today's drills, the coaches pushing them harder than usual, as if physical exhaustion might distract them from the horror unfolding around them. steam fills the small bathroom, fogging the mirror until she can barely see her own reflection.

she hears the bathroom door creak open.

"just me, princess," comes paige's voice, casual and easy. "kk and ice went to dinner early."

azzi relaxes her shoulders, not realizing she'd tensed them in the first place. "be out in five," she calls, rinsing conditioner from her curls.

when she steps out wrapped in a towel, paige is perched on the closed toilet lid, scrolling through her phone. her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose around her face. she doesn't look up.

"they found her shoes in the lake," paige says, voice flat. "emma's. the duke girl."

azzi's stomach drops. "jesus."

"yeah." paige tucks her phone away, finally looking up. there's something unreadable in her expression. "you know what's weird? i had a conversation with her yesterday. about three-point shooting form."

azzi turns away, pulling a clean t-shirt over her head. when she looks back, paige is staring at her hands.

"you okay?" azzi asks.

paige nods, but doesn't speak. azzi runs a hand down her back as she passes her, at a loss for words.

later, as they walk to dinner, azzi can't shake the feeling that something is off. they pass the equipment shed, now cordoned off with yellow police tape that flutters in the evening breeze. she looks away, sickened by the sight of blood in broad daylight.

morgan jogs up behind them, slinging her arms around both their shoulders. "hey," she says, voice strained and far too bright. "you guys hear they're thinking about ending camp early?"

"no way," paige says immediately. "they can't."

there's an edge to her voice that makes azzi glance over. paige's jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in her cheek.

"i mean, someone's literally killing people, paige," morgan says with a nervous laugh. "seems like a good reason to shut things down."

"that’s not—" paige starts, then stops herself. "whatever."

she pulls away from morgan's arm, walking ahead faster. morgan gives azzi a puzzled look.

"she's just scared," azzi says automatically, defending paige like she always does. but the words feel hollow in her mouth. “she’s probably worried this will follow us home, you know?” 

they're almost to the mess hall when azzi realizes she left her inhaler back at the cabin. the thought of going back alone makes her throat tighten.

"i forgot something," she tells morgan. "can you—"

"i'll go with you, ma," paige says, appearing suddenly beside them. her eyes look different in the fading light—sharper, focused, a darker blue than azzi has ever seen them. "save us seats?"

morgan nods and continues on without them. as they turn back toward the cabin, azzi feels paige's hand slip into hers, their fingers linking with ease. paige squeezes it once.

"you good?" paige asks, the same question azzi had asked her earlier.

"yeah," azzi says, but her heart hammers in her chest. "just freaked out about all this."

paige's thumb rubs circles against azzi's palm. "don't worry," she says, voice soft. "i've got you. nothing's gonna happen to you. swear"

with a nod, azzi breathes out and flashes paige a soft smile. as they walk, she stumbles over a stick and looks down her eyes catching on paige’s feet. her eyes narrow slightly, focusing on the dark stain on the cuff of the left sneaker—something that looks disturbingly like blood.

“az?”

azzi looks up, and suddenly she can't quite remember if it was there before.

𓇼 as expected, camp is shut down. the girls are silent on the bus ride back to their university, terrified in their own way. it’s mid-july so the school lets them move in early, assuaging their parents’s questions surrounding safety with vague answers that do nothing to assure them. 

𓇼 the school is eerily empty on their side of campus; the off-campus athletic apartments even eerier. they stick to their buddy system. jana & sarah. morgan & aubrey. ice & kk. they’re sectioned off. every girl has their other half.  without question, they pair paige and azzi. 

𓇼 it should be relieving, but it only brings more observations to the surface. paige is evasive, leaving their apartment at odd hours and coming back even later. she tells azzi not to worry, that she’s just putting the work in to start the season right. she flashes that hollywood smile, her teeth bleach white, and blows her off with a quip: “maybe if you answered my texts before the week passes, ma…”

𓇼 and azzi, to her detriment, always laughs—so easily pulled into paige’s warmth, into the intoxicating orbit of being paige buecker’s favorite.

𓇼 they settle back into routine. the fear fades. well all fear except the massive amount belonging to one azzi fudd. azzi feels gaslit by everyone’s desperation to get back to normal. do they not see the pattern? the killers allow them to relax and then slice someone else up. 

𓇼 “you have got to chill,” sarah says one night, the girls getting ready for a night out. it’s somewhere different than their usual haunt. “i need to see the world outside of ted’s or i might just die,” jana had grumbled, grinning when yanna let out a laugh. azzi’s gut had clenched at the mention of death. 

𓇼 azzi presses her lips together, tries to focus on the strawberry sweetness of her lip gloss and the vanilla vodka taste of her breath. still, they slip out, saccharine and sarcastic. “sorry, it’s a little hard to chill when there are killers roaming and they haven’t been caught yet. but sure, i’ll try my hardest to be cool for you.”

𓇼 jana’s eyebrow raises and its at that second when azzi looks up to see paige leaning against the wall, her own blonde brow raised in agreement. azzi closes her eyes and huffs, scrambling up to storm into the kitchen and get another drink. 

𓇼 sometimes the girls forget just how mean and snappish she can be, especially when she feels overlooked. but paige knows, which is why she follows her. “az—” she starts, and azzi is already filled with irritation because paige had disappeared around two am last night and this time she was the one not answering her messages. when she came back she’d offered no explanation, rolling her eyes when azzi asked after her. so azzi ignores her.

𓇼 “az, i know you can hear me.” at this point, all bets are off. she’s either murdering to her heart’s desire or sleeping with someone azzi knows nothing about. she doesn’t know which one makes her more ill. she ignores her best friend with fervor, reaching up to grab the 818 tequila placed dangerously at the edge of the highest cabinet shelf.

𓇼 her dress is deliciously mini, sequined, and a buttery yellow that paints a stunning contrast to azzi’s bronze skin. as she reaches higher, one leg leveraged on the counter to better push herself up, she hears paige let out a curt breath. she’s either getting annoyed or she’s seen the edge of azzi’s cream-colored, lace panties. 

𓇼 (it’s both.)

𓇼 they leave the house like that.

azzi’s pressed into the corner of the backseat, her cheek against the window, feeling the slow drag of streetlights flicker over her skin. the night is thick, humid, sticking to her bare arms, her exposed throat. up front, someone—maybe nika, maybe ashlyn—is laughing too loud at something on the aux, the bassline thumping low in azzi’s chest.

paige is next to her, legs sprawled, taking up space like she owns it. she’s been quiet most of the ride, one arm draped over the back of the seat, the other resting on her thigh, fingers drumming against ripped denim. azzi’s felt her watching, though—casual, weighty, something unreadable sitting low in paige’s gaze.

azzi shifts, her own patience thinning. “can you stop staring, please? thank you.”

paige doesn’t even blink. “then stop being so twitchy.”

azzi rolls her eyes, exhales sharply through her nose. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

paige’s fingers twitch, then move—quick, sure, catching azzi’s chin between them. not hard, but firm, the kind of touch that says pay attention.

the car isn’t moving fast, but everything inside it tilts.

paige leans in, close enough that azzi can smell her—the faded trace of her cologne, something clean, warm, uniquely her. their friends are right there, blessedly oblivious, but it suddenly doesn’t matter. the space between them is tight, electric, stretched thin like the air before a summer storm.

"azzi," paige murmurs, low, almost thoughtful. her grip tightens, just a little. "don’t piss me off right now."

azzi stills. it’s nothing, just paige being paige—too confident, too rough, all bark with a bite she only ever shows on the court. but something in the way she’s looking at her now—head tilted, eyes dark, mouth set like she’s waiting for something—makes azzi’s stomach flip, cold and hot all at once.

for a second, just a second, she’s scared.

and paige sees it.

the shift happens so fast it barely feels real. paige lets go, leans back, scoffs like azzi’s being ridiculous. the corner of her mouth lifts, teasing, but her eyes are still watching, still waiting.

"damn, princess," she says, voice easy, lazy, as she settles back into her seat. "you dramatic."

azzi forces a breath past her lips, unclenches her jaw. she looks away, out the window, at the blur of streetlights sliding past.

she doesn’t say anything.

but she knows paige felt it.

and worse—paige knows she did, too.

𓇼 they make up within the week. it’s not really the plan, but things change when another girl is found dead and gone. this time it’s a neighboring university’s tennis prodigy, her dark hair gleaming wetly across the pavement as she presses a hand to the neat crescent across her neck.

𓇼 she wants to go home. she wants paige. azzi ignores the guilty looks the other girls send her as she’s proven right. instead, her mind is whirling. there’s no connection between the victims, at least none that she can see. the killer (killers?) are doing this for fun, for sport. for sport. wait. 

𓇼 the campus becomes a ghost town as news spreads. three more volleyball players from neighboring schools are found dead within days of one another. the pattern is undeniable now—athletes being targeted, sliced up with precision. azzi's phone chimes constantly with texts from her parents begging her to come home. she doesn't tell them that she's secretly packed a bag, ready to run at a moment's notice.

𓇼 security increases on campus. guards patrol the athletic buildings, checking IDs at every entrance. the team is assigned a personal security detail that follows them to and from practice. it should make them feel safer, but the constant scrutiny just reminds them of the danger. morgan complains about it the loudest, says it's making her play worse. paige stays suspiciously quiet during these conversations.

𓇼 azzi starts noticing things. small things at first—paige's late night disappearances becoming more frequent, the way morgan tenses whenever the murders are mentioned on the news, how the two of them exchange glances when they think no one's watching. one night, azzi wakes to find paige's bed empty, and when she checks her phone, there's a text from morgan: roof in 10. it wasn't meant for her.

𓇼 a memorial is held. everyone wears black, everyone cries. morgan the hardest, paige the least. her face is almost carefully blank. when jana breaks down during her speech, azzi watches paige's expression—there's no sadness there, only impatience. that night, azzi googles "sociopath traits" and then immediately deletes her browser history.

𓇼 geno cancels practice after another body is found—this time it's someone from their own school, a soccer player azzi shared an english class with last year. the girls gather in kk and ice's apartment, seeking safety in numbers. "we need to stick together," paige says, her hand finding azzi's under the table, squeezing once. azzi notices how paige's eyes never leave her face, watching her reactions with an intensity that makes her skin prickle.

𓇼 azzi can't shake the feeling she's being watched. not just by paige, but by someone else—someone in the shadows. she starts looking over her shoulder in the hallways, jumping at every sound. "you're being paranoid, princess" paige tells her, but her eyes are watchful, protective. that night, azzi finds a note slipped under their apartment door: hope you had a great day, a! it might just be your last.

𓇼 she shows it to paige, who crumples it in her fist, jaw set in a way azzi has never seen before. "no one's going to touch you," paige promises, voice low and dangerous. "not while i'm here."

𓇼 they decide to go out again one night, all of them, a desperate attempt at normalcy. the bar is crowded, loud, and for a moment, azzi can almost forget. until she sees nika and paige in the corner, heads bent close together, nika's hand on paige's arm like she's stopping her from something. azzi watches them argue, watches paige's face harden before she stalks off to the bathroom.

𓇼 when azzi follows, she finds paige gripping the sink, knuckles white. "i can't keep doing this," paige says, not looking up. she stops when she sees azzi in the mirror. "can't keep doing what?" azzi asks. paige's smile is strained. "can't watch you keep torturing yourself," she says. "you're safe with me, ma. you know that, right?"

𓇼 azzi doesn’t answer her, because paige is so obviously lying to her. so, she only extends her hand. “c’mon. let’s go back.”

the bar is loud, too loud, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional laugh. paige is over-compensating, those oceanic eyes flickering over the crowd with that signature cocky smirk, and azzi can’t help but notice the way her attention seems to settle on the girl at the bar, the one who’s been giving paige lingering glances all night.

azzi's irritation bubbles up in a slow burn. it’s not jealousy, of course. no, she’s just—well, it's not like that. she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hide the way her jaw clenches. she’s tired of watching paige flirt with random girls like it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t mean anything, she knows that. oh my god, there’s a killer on the loose. this is not the time. 

but something about the way paige does it, so casually, so effortlessly… it’s like she’s throwing it in azzi’s face, just because she can.

"hey, you’re gonna let that one get away?” the girl at the bar smiles at paige, leaning forward just a little too much. azzi rolls her eyes at the way it pushes her cleavage up. what a slut. 

she feels terrible as soon as she thinks it.

paige laughs, clearly enjoying the attention. "maybe, maybe not. who’s to say?"

azzi feels a knot tighten in her stomach, the familiar burn of irritation seeping deeper, until she can’t take it anymore. she storms out of the bar, muttering something under her breath about goddamn bullshit.

𓇼

the cool night air hits her as she steps outside, the weight of the world following her like the world’s most suffocating blanket. she walks fast, not caring if the killer is nearby. let them come. she’s tired. she’s tired of pretending like she doesn’t care, tired of watching paige flirt—no. she’s just tired of this. of living her life in fear, of housing a deep paranoia inside of her, and being unable to trust the people she previously loved without question. 

behind her, paige’s voice breaks through the quiet night. “azzi.”

azzi doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t even turn around. “i’m surprised you even noticed i left. what, got bored of flirting with your latest victim?” the choice of words is intentional, and azzi takes great satisfaction in the silence that follows.

paige’s footsteps speed up, and she’s beside her now, matching her pace. “what the hell is your problem?”

azzi rolls her eyes. “i told you, nothing. it’s whatever.”

“don’t give me that,” paige snaps, stepping in front of azzi, her arms crossed. “you can’t just walk off like that, azzi. you gonna walk around alone at night with a maniac on the loose?”

azzi bites her lip, prays for patience. “oh my god, paige. what-the-fuck-ever. go back to her. she’s waiting.”

and there it is—the envy slips out, biting and sharp. azzi curses herself immediately, but paige catches the hint, that flicker of something in her voice. she raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“oh. oh, that’s not fair.” paige leans in a little closer, her gaze dropping to azzi’s pursed lips, making azzi wish she could not feel the way her chest tightens. “you want me to go back, huh? c’mon. use your words, mama.”

azzi seethes, but she won’t admit it. “it’s not like that, paige.”

“sure, it’s not.” paige grins, leaning back casually against the nearby streetlamp, clearly not ready to let it go. “so you’re mad because…i’m just having a little fun. that it?”

azzi turns away from her, irritation boiling over. “you know what? i don’t need this,” she huffs. “i’m going home.”

paige lets out a soft laugh, but there’s something different about it. she’s amused, but there’s an edge to it now, like she’s not ready to back off.

“azzi, stop this shit. you’re not walking home alone, alright?” paige grabs her by the arm, pulling her back gently when azzi tries to shake her off.

“actually, i think i am. i don’t need you, paige.”

“mm, yeah, you do.”

paige steps in front of her, blocking her way again. azzi’s about to argue when she realizes—paige’s not going anywhere.

“get in the car, az.”

“no.” azzi stands her ground, but she’s not fooling anyone, least of all paige.

“fine,” paige shrugs, and before azzi can react, she pulls her over her shoulder with one swift motion. azzi squeals, kicking her legs, the sound of her protests echoing in the night.

“hello! put me down, paige! i’m wearing a mini skirt!”

paige doesn’t even flinch, holding azzi firmly with one arm. “ain’t nobody looking.”

azzi’s face flushes a soft, dusky red as paige strides to the car, not letting azzi squirm free. “stop it! paige madison, you better put me down right now.” she slaps paige’s back, half laughing, half annoyed.

paige doesn’t answer, just opens the car door and tosses her inside as if she weighs nothing, sliding into the driver’s seat in a matter of minutes. “there. isn’t that better?”

azzi’s breathing hard, a mix of frustration and something else. paige catches her eye, and for a moment, the world feels oddly still between them.

“whatever,” azzi mutters, but it’s a little softer this time, the tension in her voice barely there. 

paige’s smirk never falters. “you’re welcome, princess. feel free to use the drive home as a chance to fix that attitude.”

azzi grumbles, sinking back in her seat, but she doesn’t argue anymore. she just watches paige drive, the weight of everything pressing feeling a little lighter now that they’re together.

𓇼 the campus goes on lockdown when another victim is found alive but badly injured. she describes her attacker as tall, athletic, wearing a mask. "there were two of them," she says. "one did the cutting. the other held me down." azzi is in the library when the alert comes through. she tries to call paige but gets no answer. when she finally reaches her, paige sounds panicked. "where are you?" azzi asks. "on my way to you," paige says. "don't move. please, az, don't fucking move."

𓇼 but this is a slasher, so of course, azzi moves. she wants to get to her best friend who sounded terrified out of her mind. but when azzi steps out of the library, someone grabs her from behind. she feels the cold press of a blade against her side, hears a voice—distorted, but somehow familiar—whisper in her ear. 

𓇼 azzi’s chest heaves in shallow, terrified gasps, her fingers slipping against the cool steel of the knife handle as she grapples with her assailant. the force of the attack knocks her into the corner of the hallway, and she barely catches herself before she’s on the floor, hands shaking, blood trailing from a shallow cut on her arm.

𓇼 the world is spinning, the air thick with the acrid scent of fear and sweat. azzi is crying—really crying, the kind of sobs that break you down from the inside. it’s not supposed to be like this. she’s not supposed to be here, in this hell, with a blade pressed dangerously into her ribs.

𓇼 “please—please stop,” azzi wheezes, her voice breaking in ways it’s never broken before, raw and desperate. tears spill down her cheeks, streaking through her makeup, and she’s shaking—shaking so hard she can’t breathe, her lungs fighting the air like they’re full of water.

𓇼 “azzi!” paige’s voice cuts through the haze of panic, thick with rage. it’s a sound Azzi hasn’t heard in a while—feral, protective. it’s all the warning azzi gets before paige is there, hauling the killer off her. she’s never been more grateful for location sharing. 

𓇼 “get the fuck off of her!” paige screams, her grip vicious as she tosses the killer aside, sending the ghostly figure sprawling into the wall. her anger is palpable, her voice high with fear, her stress pushing her past the normal calm. azzi’s reminded that they’re both just young women, college students trying to stay alive in a way they didn’t have to before, and she feels so ashamed that she ever suspected her. 

𓇼 azzi, gasping for air, curls into herself, her hands trembling as she presses them to her stomach. she can’t stop the sobs. Every breath feels too hard, too sharp. the pain from the cut doesn’t matter. it’s the terror that makes her break.

𓇼 paige drops to her knees in front of her, her hands shaking, trying to find zzzi’s face. her phone clatters out of her pocket.  “az, baby, please. please, look at me. it’s okay, you’re okay.” the older girl is borderline hyperventilating, casting panicked glances over her shoulder at the limp body of their unknown attacker. “i need you to move your hands, okay? just move them. i need to see how bad it is.”

𓇼 azzi’s eyes are wide, glazed with fear, but it’s the tremble in her voice that cuts paige deeper. “it hurts, p… it hurts so bad. i don’t want to die…”

𓇼 the words slice rip paige like a bullet, her heart almost collapsing at the sound of them. she doesn’t care if she’s bleeding too. she doesn’t care about the rest of it. she just needs Azzi to be okay. “i told you, ma… i told you, you’re not gonna die, alright? you ain’t going nowhere, you hear me? i got you. i got you.”

𓇼 the killer groans, rising with a hand to their masked head. “fuck!” paige whispers. “az, baby, we gotta move. ‘m gonna carry you.” azzi groans in pain as paige practically hauls her in her arms. “i know. i know, princess. fuck, ‘m sorry.” 

paige is pulling azzi into the bathroom, her grip firm but not hurting. she's trying to keep herself grounded, trying to focus on the fact that at least in this moment, azzi’s with her. paige’s chest is caving in with the force of her fear—she can taste bile in her throat—but she’s trying to stay quiet.

“shh, shh, baby…” paige’s voice is low, like she’s trying to coax azzi to stay calm, and her hands are already moving over azzi’s skin, lifting her shirt to see the damage, all business, checking for injuries, feeling for anything that could give her a glimpse of what’s happening underneath. 

and then her fingers brush over azzi’s ribs, her stomach, and there's a faint tremble in azzi’s breath, and there’s this sudden tension between them, a pressure rising along azzi's spine. 

azzi’s heart is racing, her breath ragged, but it’s not just from the pain. the nearness, the intimacy of it, the feeling of paige’s hands on her skin—it’s like fucking fire. the tenderness of paige’s touch, the way she moves so carefully over her body, it should be comforting but it’s only electric. azzi can't stop the warmth rising in her chest, can't ignore the strange pull of need that refuses to fade, even here, even now, in the middle of this absolute nightmare.

“please don’t say it. don’t you fucking dare, paige,” azzi chokes out, her voice shaking, half laughing, half sobbing, as she wipes her eyes. it’s too much. too much emotion, too much fear, and too much everything.

“you’re good, ma,” paige mutters, her thumb brushing over azzi’s stomach, gentle despite everything. “i’ve seen you like this before, don’t act like it’s new.” there’s a certain gruffness to paige’s words, like she’s pretending she doesn’t know the effect of the situation.

azzi huffs a little, trying to hide how embarrassed she is, how exposed she feels under paige’s touch. “i’m not wearing a bra,” azzi whispers through her tears, an attempt to divert attention from what was happening. it’s absurd, even in the face of this horror, how awkward she feels.

paige’s grin is soft, the kind of smile that azzi wished was occurring in a situation better than this. “ma, i’ve seen it all,” she teases, that teenage boy bravado in her tone. “we’re best friends. besides, you look good, like always. that ain’t new either.”

azzi laughs, but it’s broken, her body trembling with the sudden onslaught of pain. the adrenaline is wearing off. the blood, the fear,—it’s all so real, but somehow paige’s words make it feel like a momentary sick joke at a really intense tailgate. she can’t help it. she hits paige’s shoulder, weakly, but paige just takes it, laughing a little.

“not the time, az,” paige says, trying to keep things light, but azzi can feel how her voice shakes, how she’s keeping it low to not attract attention. and then, just like that, the sound of a booted footstep outside the door cuts through the tension. paige freezes, her eyes darting toward the crack under the door.

azzi, still struggling to breathe normally, goes stiff. her hands instinctively press against her stomach, trying to hold in the pain, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“shit.” paige’s voice is even quieter now, the heat between them suddenly shifting, turning to a survival instinct. “we gotta go. now.”

paige doesn’t give her a second to argue, her hand on azzi’s back, guiding her away from the bathroom door, moving like they’ve practiced this a thousand times before—silent, swift, desperate.

𓇼 they spend hours in the police station, paige getting more and aggravated as the officers keep pushing for answers they don’t have. “what do you mean did they leave clues? bro, isn’t this your job?” azzi focuses on not having a panic attack. its only when the officer that seems to irritate paige the most dares to insinuate that maybe azzi should’ve been more careful that she realizes paige may recreate the crime scene. 

𓇼 “come on, p. i want to go home.” paige shoots the man another glare and wraps a hand around azzi’s waist, using her phone to call them an uber. 

𓇼 if azzi thought paige was clingy before, she was absolutely oppressive now.

azzi steps into the bathroom, about to close the door when paige’s voice calls out, “azzi, come on now, let’s use our brains. you know i’m not letting you even shower alone after all this.”

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to shut the door but paige’s arm is already wedged in, blocking it. she sighs, giving in. “paige! you can’t just follow me everywhere.”

paige raises an eyebrow, her tone completely unbothered. “girl, this is a classic horror scenario. haven’t you seen psycho?” she leans against the counter, casually pulling her phone from her pocket.

azzi stares at her in disbelief. “are you seriously standing there while i’m trying to take a shower? get out! go sit outside like a normal person!”

paige grins, looking incredibly comfortable in the moment. she’s changed and swept her hair into her signature slick-back bun, her bright blonde strands falling in just the right way, a thin silver chain resting around her neck. her sweatpants hang low and loose, and the black tee paired with it does wonders to show off her biceps as she crosses her arms. 

azzi shifts on her feet, feeling a strange pulse in her chest. she’s not sure if it’s from frustration or something else entirely. her gaze flickers down to where a tan strip of skin is revealing itself just above the rim of those damned sweats, and she unconsciously squeezes her legs together. paige notices, her smirk growing wider.

“be lucky i ain't coming in there with you,” she teases, her tone cocky as she scrolls on her phone, clearly unfazed by azzi’s protests.

azzi huffs. “spare me.” paige looks up and raises a brow. “you wouldn't.”

paige shrugs, scrolling casually. “we’ll see. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

azzi folds her arms, feeling a little cornered by both the situation and the fact that paige looks really good right now. it’s enough to make her blush, and she tries to pretend like she’s not noticing. “paige, seriously. get out.”

paige smirks, her eyes not leaving her screen as she leans a little closer to the bathroom door. “that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

azzi rolls her eyes again, clearly fed up but also a little flustered. she glances at paige, then starts to undo her socks, taking one off slowly like she's in no hurry to just give in to the absurdity of it all. the moment she takes the sock off, paige whistles loudly.

“god damn, look at you.” she crosses her arms again, shaking her head, completely over the top with her reaction.

azzi freezes, her face turning the color of a maraschino cherry. “read my lips, paige. get out or i swear to god!”

paige raises her hands in mock surrender, laughing at her best friend's embarrassment. “alright, alright, i’m leaving! no need to bring our savior into it. you know you love me.” she steps back, still laughing to herself.

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to pretend she's not still flustered, and waits until paige is out of the bathroom before she breathes a deep sigh of relief.

𓇼

when azzi finally steps out of the muggy bathroom, her satin robe clings to her body in a way she really wasn’t prepared for. it’s short, the fabric cool and slick against her skin in a lovely shade of emerald green, and it leaves very little to the imagination—especially with how it sticks to her curves, still damp from the shower.

paige looks her up and down as she passes by, eyes narrowing in an exaggerated once-over, her lips curling into a smirk. “my god, az, you really trying to make me feel some type of way right now, huh?”

azzi huffs and quickly pulls the robe tighter around her, trying to ignore the avid embarrassment creeping up her spine at the way paige is looking at her. “oh my god, can you not?”

paige raises a brow, stepping closer, still completely unbothered. “what? you look phenomenal, mama. stop trying to act like you don’t know.” she steps in front of azzi now, blocking her way, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. “you could at least act a little embarrassed. i’m not the one who came out here in the world’s shortest robe, babe. that’s your problem.”

azzi tries to shift away, but paige reaches out and places a hand on her stomach, pressing gently—so gently, though azzi still sucks in a breath. the wound. the pain of it.

azzi’s breath hitches at the sensation, and she freezes. “p,” she starts, her voice wavering just a little, “seriously, it’s fine. i’m okay. we’re fine..” but she knows they’re not, not completely. not when the pressure of her best friend’s hand on her body sends an inebriate mix of heat and anxiety coursing through her.

paige doesn’t move, her thumb running in soft circles over the satin. the moment hangs there, both of them silent and unsure. she looks azzi in the eyes, her cocky mask slipping, replaced with something more raw, more vulnerable than azzi’s seen in a long time.

“that was way too close, az,” paige mutters, her voice low and almost trembling despite herself. “i’m not trying to be disrespectful or anything, but i wasn’t—i didn’t think it was real, y’know? like, it was always happening to other people, but then it was you—and that shit scared me.”

azzi looks up at her, the words hitting harder than she expected. it isn’t what paige usually says. it’s not the same sure, settled paige who never gets rattled. this is different. and it makes azzi’s stomach twist in a way she’s not sure she wants to think about right now.

“hey,” azzi starts again, her voice a little more sure this time. “i’m okay this time. really.” but the words feel thin. 

paige doesn’t pull back. she presses just a little harder against azzi’s stomach, right where the wound is, and for a split second, azzi feels like she can’t breathe. but it’s not pain—it’s something else. something that makes her flush. paige stares down at her for a long moment before taking a step back, but not without catching azzi’s gaze. her voice is back to being light, the flip switched but the edge of uncertainty still lingering there. 

“next time,” paige says, crossing her arms and giving azzi an appraising look, “i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe. you ain’t going anywhere without me. not even to pee. got it?”

azzi laughs weakly, but it’s forced. she’s shaking her head, though the tightness in her chest doesn’t loosen. “yeah, whatever, paige. you really think you can keep me all locked up?”

“trust, i will find a way. better start growing those curls out and change your name to rapunzel,” paige says with her trademark megawatt smile. 

azzi just sighs, rolling her eyes. “you’re so—.”

before she can say more, paige adds, more softly, “i’m serious, az. i’m not letting anything happen to you. i look after what’s mine.”

azzi’s heart thumps hard in her chest at the words, and she looks away quickly, brushing a wet spiral of hair behind her ear to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. before she can respond, paige’s phone buzzes loudly, breaking the tension between them. paige glances down at the screen, and her expression hardens. 

“i have to go,” she says. “i forgot i promised kk help on an assignment.”

azzi gives her a small, searching look before nodding. she watches her go, her stomach beginning to crawl with that uneasy feeling that only arises when she senses a lie.

𓇼 azzi wakes to the sound of the front door closing. it's three in the morning, and paige is slipping back into their apartment, her steps careful, measured. azzi pretends to be asleep, watching through slitted eyes as paige peels off her jacket, revealing a white t-shirt stained with something dark. 

𓇼 paige's hands are slightly trembling as she stuffs the shirt into the bottom of the laundry hamper. when she turns, her face is hollow, haunted. she looks at azzi's sleeping form with an expression that's almost tender, almost desperate. azzi squeezes her eyes closed, a single tear rolling down her face like a saltwater diamond.

𓇼 but like all things do, it comes to a head. paige is right back at it—the lies, the exceptionally late nights, the brushing off of azzi’s concerns. “so, you can be worried about me, but i have to play it cool?” she yells at paige’s retreating back. paige turns to face her before she slips back into her bedroom. “you got it, ma.”

𓇼 it's stupid and slick and she’s so obviously being cute and—why the fuck is it turning azzi on?

𓇼 regardless she’s had enough. so, azzi takes things into her own hands. 

the sound of the front door unlocking makes azzi tense, fingers curling around the blanket draped over her lap. the tv hums softly, casting pale light over her bare arms, her collarbones, the rise and fall of her chest. 2:47 am.

paige steps inside like she owns the place. she’s all black and strategic shadow, hoodie zipped up, joggers hanging low, her hair twisted into that stupid bun that looks effortless but isn’t. there’s something different about her tonight, something undeniably thick in the air between them.

azzi swallows. something is off. something's been off. she tries to find her strength from before.

paige kicks off her crocs, stretches her arms overhead, and looks at azzi with that familiar, lazy smirk. "damn, you almost scared me. you waiting up for me, princess?"

azzi doesn’t answer. just watches. the way paige moves—calm, controlled, unbothered. like she wasn’t just out in the dark doing god knows what.

paige tilts her head. "silent treatment? that’s crazy."

azzi’s stomach knots. she should just say it. just ask. her eyes flick up—linger at paige’s bun. she sees it now. the dried rust clinging to the strands, almost lost in the honey-blonde.

"there's blood in your hair."

paige stops in front of her, close enough that azzi can smell the warm spice of her cologne, something deeper beneath it. her grin flickers, like she wasn’t expecting that.

then she laughs, low and amused. "yeah?"

azzi nods, her throat dry. she’s suddenly so aware of her body. "yeah."

paige’s gaze dips. a quick flick—barely there—but azzi feels it, the weight of her eyes dragging down to the square neckline of her top, the way it presses tightly against her skin and pushes up her tits. it’s so quick she might’ve imagined it, but when paige looks back up, there’s something else in her face, something dark and hungry.

azzi’s heart skips.

paige leans in slightly, all sharp eyes and quiet hunger. "take it out and see." she grabs azzi’s wrist and presses it against her scalp, her fingers warm and firm over azzi’s skin.

azzi’s pupils blow wide. her heart slams into her ribs.

"see, az?" paige murmurs. "you’re just as bad as me."

azzi rips her hand away and backs up. paige follows, smooth, easy, and unhurried. azzi’s breath catches—there’s nowhere to go but down the hallway. she moves before she can think, turns—but paige’s voice follows her, teasing. 

"aw, don’t do that, princess. you know you can’t run from me."

azzi doesn’t listen. her socked feet slap against the hardwood as she bolts, and she almost slips, rounding the corner toward her bedroom. she doesn’t make it. paige is already there.

azzi’s breath shudders. she saw her in the living room. she just felt her presence behind her, but now she’s in front, her body loose and relaxed against the doorframe. 

azzi skids to a stop, heart hammering. paige just grins, cocking her head. "that was cute."

azzi’s stomach drops. she whirls around, runs back through the kitchen—paige is at the fridge, watching her like this is all some kind of game. azzi stumbles, chest heaving. she didn’t even hear paige move this time. didn’t realize how close she was until—

she trips.

a sharp gasp rips from her throat as she hits the floor. she scrambles to get up, but paige is already there, grabbing her ankle and dragging her back, slow and deliberate like she has all the time in the world.

azzi twists, pushing up onto her hands, her breath ragged, sweat clinging to the hollow of her throat. she might be screaming, but she can’t tell. her curls stick to her forehead, her lip combo still glossy, her skin warm and glowing in the dim light.

paige watches her struggle, mouth curving into something that shouldn’t be so blatantly fond. and then, low and appreciative: "jesus, ma. this top."

azzi gapes. “you can’t be serious right now.”

paige laughs—actually laughs, full and throaty, before ducking down and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to azzi’s throat. azzi jerks, whimpers as a slow heat floods through her. 

"paige—"

"relax, baby," paige murmurs against her skin, lips grazing the pulse pounding at her neck. "you know i’d never hurt you."

azzi squeezes her eyes shut, chest heaving, fear and something unidentifiable tangling in her stomach. then paige pulls back, sighing like this is exhausting for her. she reaches into her hoodie, pulls out something small and sharp—a knife—and flicks it across the room. it clatters onto the hardwood.

azzi stares.

paige cups her face, tilting it up, her thumbs pressing gently into her cheeks. "look at me."

azzi does, breath uneven, her throat tight.

"i’m not gonna hurt you," paige says, softer this time, steady and sure. "you know that, don’t you?"

azzi’s lips tremble. and then the tears spill over. she makes a choked sound, shaking her head, her breathing turning sharp and uneven.

 "please," she whispers, voice cracking. "please, paige. you’re lying to me, i— i thought we were best friends. what did i do wrong? what—whatever it is, i’m so sorry.”

paige freezes. her face twists with an emotion so raw, that azzi is unsure if there’s a name for it. “azzi—”

azzi wrenches away from her grip and pulls back, hands tangling in her curls, her whole body wound tight. "there’s always two of you, right?" she gasps, voice rising in panic. "oh my god, i’m gonna die."

paige’s expression crumples. "don’t you dare say that shit."

azzi flinches, still hyperventilating, her shoulders rising and falling too fast, her vision swimming. paige exhales sharply and moves, pressing a steadying hand to azzi’s waist, keeping her from stumbling. 

"azzi, you can be pissed in a minute, mama. swear. but i need you to calm down first."

azzi blinks up at her, dazed, ribs aching.

paige tightens her grip, her voice dropping into something warmer, more familiar. "need you to breathe for me, baby. please."

and somehow azzi listens. her breath hitches in her throat as she slows it down, lungs expanding in time with paige’s steady exhalations, but it’s the space between them that feels suffocating now. paige’s grip doesn’t loosen. azzi thinks of her promise from before: i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe.

azzi’s fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, her skin still slick with sweat, as her mind races to catch up with everything that’s happening. that flicker of fear still burns deep in her chest, but—god, she’s so close to paige. too close. her neck is still tingling from where paige kissed it, the skin still warm and alive from her touch.

but paige… paige is a killer. the killer.

she tries to pull away again—shaking her head, trying to break free from the grip she can’t seem to escape. "i—i can’t."

paige doesn’t let her go this time. instead, she leans down, their faces inches apart, her voice like honey and danger all at once. "you can, though.”

azzi swallows. "you’re not the paige i thought i knew."

a pause. paige’s eyes darken just the slightest bit, but there’s something else in them, something softer, a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of regret. but it’s gone before azzi can pin it down, replaced by something colder.

"ma," paige says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something that cracks in a way speaks to her. "azzi, this ain't easy for me either. i didn’t—this isn't the person i wanna be in front of you."

azzi’s breath hitches. "then don’t be." she shakes her head again, frustration boiling over. "i don’t understand, paige. i don’t even know what’s real anymore."

paige’s hands tighten around her wrists, gentle but firm, and for a second, it feels like she’s holding herself together instead. "what’s real is my promises. i swear to god, az,  i’m not gonna hurt you."

azzi laughs, but it’s hollow, the sound falling against the floor. "how do you expect me to believe that?”

“you do believe that. that’s why you suspected me for so long and didn’t say shit.” azzi freezes. "you know why i keep you close? cause you make me wanna be better."

azzi scoffs, eyes wide. "what? it’s not my job to save you, p.”

paige leans in, her forehead brushing against azzi’s.  "but you do it every day. you’re the one thing in this world that still feels right. and i’m not about to let anything happen to you. not now. not ever."

azzi’s heart tugs with the weight of paige’s words. the sincerity in her voice wraps around her like a velvet rope, pulls her closer. but then—then—the cold reality crashes back in. azzi shakes her head, her eyes filling with that uncontrollable fear again. 

"i can’t be part of this, paige. i can’t be in this world with you. it’s too much. i don’t—i don’t know who you are anymore."

paige’s expression hardens, but she doesn’t let go of azzi’s face. "you do know me," she says, a soft, dangerous promise in her voice. "i’m still me. the same person who’s been by your side, who’d do anything for you. i swear, azzi, you’re all i care about."

azzi blinks, her vision blurry through the tears, her chest tight with the weight of it all. "then why—why do you hurt people?"

paige’s jaw clenches, the shadow of the killer flashing across her features again. but when she looks at azzi, it’s with something broken. "i’m trying to protect you. to keep you safe, az. you don’t get it. i’m doing this for you."

azzi shakes her head, backing away again, her hands trembling. "you’re still lying."

"no," paige breathes, reaching for her again, but azzi pulls back, pacing quickly, hands tangled in her hair again, trying to pull herself together. "please, just calm down. i need you to calm down, baby. we’ll figure it out."

azzi whips around, her hand swiping at her eyes. "i can’t figure this out, paige! i can’t! you’re not just a friend to me, you’re— i can’t lose you, but i can’t do this either!"

paige’s face softens, and this time, she steps back, giving azzi space, her shoulders sagging just slightly. "i’m not going anywhere. not unless you tell me to."

azzi pauses, her breath still coming in jagged bursts. "why wouldn’t i tell you to leave?"

"cause you love me," paige says simply, but it’s not a boast. it’s the truth, in a way azzi can’t ignore. "and i love you too, maybe even more. and that’s enough. it’ll always be enough, azzi. just trust me."

azzi’s breath catches. "you can’t make this go away, paige." and suddenly she’s just so angry.

her hands curl into fists, eyes brimming with the weight of everything she's been holding in. she looks away, but paige reaches out, gently grabbing her chin. the touch is light but unyielding, pulling azzi back into her orbit. “hey, what are you thinking? talk to me.”

azzi stares at her for a beat, then explodes, words spilling out faster than she can control them. "you don’t get it! you’re so obsessed with how i feel, with fixing everything with me, you can’t even see how badly you’re fucking up. you don’t see it, do you? you just want the thrill of being the one i choose! what even is this? are you just throwing your whole life away for five minutes of fucking fame, paige? you can be so fucking selfish when it comes to me, and you won’t even admit it."

paige stands there, quiet for a second, then slowly smirks. “yeah, okay. i am selfish about you. i don’t see anything wrong with it. you right, ma.” she steps forward again, closer to azzi, inching her way into her space until there’s nowhere for her to go. “but that doesn’t mean you get to make me feel like shit for it. ‘cause you like being special.”

azzi’s breath stutters in her chest, caught off guard by paige’s rather self-accountable response. she opens her mouth to retort but doesn’t get the chance before paige leans in, close enough that azzi can feel her breath, her warmth.

“i know., i know. i’m not taking you seriously. i’m not listening. yep, for sure, ma,” paige murmurs. “just—”and then she kisses her. it's slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that’s not just about desire but about the release of it.

azzi kisses back almost immediately, closing her eyes and digging her hands into paige’s hair. she opens her mouth, and paige slips her tongue inside, dragging a hand down to squeeze azzi’s waist. azzi moans, whole body shivering as paige presses two fingers to her aching clit. the pressure is fucking divine, and something sickly sweet swells in her tummy.

paige is playing dirty, and azzi is finding it hard to claw her way out of the web her best friend continues to spin. 

she pulls back, blushing as a thin string of spit connects them for several seconds before snapping. 

“don’t think for one second that you’re off the hook,” azzi says, voice shaky and defiant. 

paige only grins, smug, and presses harder against her pussy, rubbing gently through the fabric. “mmhmm. you taste so good, you know that? like fucking sugar, just straight honey.”

azzi’s pulse is racing, her chest tight, and she’s this close to yelling at her again. “you’re not even listening to me,” she says, but it comes out as a half-sigh, half-moan.

paige doesn’t back off, though. instead, she leans in again, slow and steady, keeping the pace of her fingers up as if she’d always known that this was where they’d end up. she presses her lips to azzi’s again and again, and azzi, against all her better judgment, melts every time. the next time it’s paige who breaks their contact. 

"i don’t know how to make it go away yet,” paige says, her voice quieter now as she speaks to azzi’s earlier worries. "but i need you to trust me. please."

azzi hesitates, eyes still wet, her chest tight. her heart aches. but for a moment, just a moment, she lets herself believe in paige. just a little bit, just a little more.

"what are you protecting me from?" azzi whispers, voice barely audible. “is it someone else?”

paige doesn’t answer at first, just steps forward and pulls azzi into a desperate hug. that only confirms it. this other person, the second piece to this horrific puzzle, has it out for her. 

"you don’t have to worry about that, baby. i got you. always."

azzi wants to believe her without any reservations because she knows, on a level, that it’s true.

that’s the worst part.

𓇼 it turns out azzi can forgive a lot when it comes to paige. loving her is a part of her genetic code.

𓇼 it's what she was meant for, body and soul.

𓇼 fuck.

© hcneymooners.