#cs heart ache

[loafysainz]

DADDY DUTY | CS 55

carlos sainz x fem!reader

no warn

I got inspired by a request where Charles/Carlos gets sick, and their y/n takes care of them—but I made a version where Carlos takes care of his baby instead. Thanks for the idea, sender! 🤍

Carlos had just come home from a long, exhausting F1 season. The moment he stepped into their house late at night, all he wanted was to collapse into bed. But as he entered the bedroom, his gaze softened.

There she was—Y/N, peacefully sleeping, curled up under the blankets. The dim glow from the bedside lamp illuminated her face, making her look even more delicate. Carlos felt a tug at his heart. She looked tired. No, more than that—she looked exhausted. And of course, she would be. She was carrying their second child, and pregnancy had been tough on her.

Instead of getting ready for bed immediately, he knelt beside her, just watching for a moment. His fingers brushed against her cheek, gentle and slow, as if afraid he might wake her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned in, pressing the softest kiss on her forehead. She didn’t stir, just let out a quiet sigh in her sleep. He smiled, a mix of love and guilt weighing on his chest. He had been away for too long.

After a few more seconds of just looking at her, he finally stood up and headed to the bathroom to shower. But even after cleaning up, he didn’t go to bed just yet. There was someone else he needed to see.

Carlos walked down the hall and pushed open the door to his daughter’s room. There she was, his little girl, fast asleep in her tiny bed, her long lashes resting against her chubby cheeks. She was three—almost four—but still his baby.

He crouched down and kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek, unable to help himself. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

“Te extrañé, princesa,” he whispered, running a hand through her soft hair.

With one last look at his daughter, he finally returned to the master bedroom, climbing into bed beside Y/N. He wrapped his arm around her, careful but firm, holding her close without pressing against her stomach. She let out another soft sigh, unconsciously shifting closer to him. Carlos let out a deep breath, finally feeling at home.

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up first. She turned to see Carlos still fast asleep beside her. His face was relaxed, but the exhaustion was evident—dark circles under his eyes, the slight furrow in his brow even in sleep. Her heart ached a little. He had been running on fumes, and now that he was home, he finally allowed himself to rest.

Not wanting to disturb him, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Carlos stirred slightly, but instead of waking up fully, his arm tightened around her waist. His voice was raspy when he mumbled, “Stay a little longer. Still wanna cuddle.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh. He sounded so clingy, so unlike the Carlos the world saw. “I need to make breakfast,” she whispered. “our daughter will be wake up soon.”

Carlos groaned but didn’t let go. “Five more minutes. Please?” His voice was still thick with sleep, and he was being so dramatic about it.

Y/N sighed but smiled. “Fine. But just five.”

He hummed in approval, but before letting her go, he tapped his lips—a silent request. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but leaned in, pressing another soft kiss against his lips. Only then did he loosen his hold, allowing her to slip out of bed.

But just as she stepped out of the room, a loud wail pierced through the quiet house.

Y/N’s heart dropped. That was their daughter.

She hurried down the hall and into her daughter’s room. The little girl was sitting up in bed, face scrunched up as she sobbed. Y/N’s concern deepened when she pressed a hand against her forehead—warm.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, stroking her daughter’s back. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

Her daughter only cried harder, arms reaching up. “Mommy… I want a hug…”

Y/N’s heart twisted. But she couldn’t. Not while she was pregnant.

“Baby,” she said softly, rubbing circles on her daughter’s back. “Mommy can’t hug you right now, There’s a baby in Mommy’s tummy. But how about I hold you in my lap instead? Will that be okay?”

But the little girl just wailed louder, her tiny fists gripping Y/N’s shirt. Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes, hating that she couldn’t give her baby what she wanted.

The noise must have woken Carlos, because within seconds, he was at the door, hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was alert despite just waking up.

Y/N looked up at him, concern written all over her face. “She’s got a fever. And she wants to be carried, but I can’t…”

Carlos immediately crouched beside them, his hand brushing over their daughter’s forehead. He clicked his tongue. “You’re burning up, princesa.”

Their daughter sniffled but shook her head when Carlos reached out. “No… want Mommy…”

Carlos let out a small sigh, but instead of getting frustrated, he softened. “I know, sweetheart. But Mommy has to be careful with the baby, remember? How about Daddy carries you instead?”

The little girl whined, hesitating, still clutching onto Y/N. Carlos pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “Come on, just for a little bit? Mommy will still be here, I promise.”

After a few more sniffles, she finally relented, reaching for Carlos instead. He lifted her easily, cradling her close. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles on her back. “You scared Daddy for a second there.”

She buried her face in his neck, still sniffling. Carlos rocked her gently before looking at Y/N. “I’ll take care of her. You go rest.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’ll get the thermometer and some fever patches.”

Carlos didn’t argue. He just kissed the top of her head. “Okay. But after that, you rest.”

Y/N gave him a knowing look but smiled before heading off. Meanwhile, Carlos sat on the bed, still rocking their daughter gently, whispering soothing words.

[moechies]

giving older bsf toji a bj cs u dont have any money on u for gas 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

oh mi gosh. dis is absolutely so filthy ‘nd absolutely perfect for him . dis is how grimy he is in my mind.. (modern au where toji is RICH $$)

“toji.”

“hm, darling?” you look upon the questioning man sitting besides you, one strong hand that guides the steering wheel of your own car. he insisted to drive, and in what position would you say no? you’d never pass up an offer to be passenger princess.

“i-i forgot.”

“forgot what?”

“forgot money for gas, toji.”

“are ya dumb sweetheart? goin’ t’get gas n the one thing ya forgot is gas money?”

“‘m s-sorry toji, can you lend me? please? promise i won’t forget next time!”

he scoffs, knowing well that he would’ve paid nonetheless. but watching you nervously scramble yourself together, anticipating a response from him is too adorable, he thinks.

“yeah, but ya gotta pay me back.”

“course i will! gonna give it back as soon as we ge-“

“no sweetie. not with money.”

your head turns slow to the man, already shooting you a evil-intentioned smirk. his free hand comes down to scarce over the evident bulge that pokes through his sweats, indirectly instructing you.

“with your mouth, honey.”

he chuckles when your face flushes red, how unexpecting.

with over 3 years of close friendship, the man had assumed that you at least would’ve noticed; his stares that pierce into your skin, touches that linger a little too long, and the constant absence of your favorite panties. what a naive little thing you were; he loved it.

if you didn’t know his true intentions then, you’d definitely know now.

“c’mon, y’want me to fill it up right?”

“t-“

“the tank sweetie. the car. don’t you want gas?”

you huff when he chuckles at your flustered expression. your small fingers dance across his bulge, his own hand messily slipping under the band of his sweats, releasing himself. he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when you gasp, fawn like eyes that immediately shoot up to meet his gaze.

“s-so big..”

“mm, you think so?” he teases.

his hand slithers to the back of your head, fingers playing with one or two strands of your hair.

“c’mon, be good..”

he smiles at you coyly, desperate even, and it makes your heart and your cunt clench.

with slight pressure from the man’s hand, you find yourself lowering onto the tip of his cock. your puffy lips press against the warm slit, an immediate groan that spills from his lips,

“no action recently?” you tease, facing him with a slight smile,

“shaddup princess. yer lucky you’re cute.”

you snicker, separating your slicked up lips to wrap around the thick of his cock head. your tongue presses against the slit once again, tasting the sweet substance that coats his dewy slit; more that spews from the teasing licks.

“don’t t-tease.”

you hold yourself further onto his cock to accommodate his length, a light gag that elicits from your throat. tears brim in your eyes when you feel your jaw begin to ache, but the needy man pays no mind when he begins thrusting into your warmth.

oh and when he feels a warm tear fall onto the skin of his thigh, he nearly cums.

“heh.. there you go, see? ya can do it.”

you hum around him, the light sensation that drills right through his sensitive cock.

“g-gunna cum. shit.”

and with a few shallow thrusts, his cum brims. it’s warm, and thick, but you swallow without a second thought. you pull yourself off to meet your eyes with his, vision daisy and face fumed with a sweet blush once again.

“hah.. gonna have to fill you up, darling. we’ll worry about the car later, kay?”

[httpsserene]

hi can i please send a request for the kink list rating? for franco, oscar, charles, lewis and carlos with begging. also congrats on 3k!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. this one is a lil shorter but i think it's actually better quality? don't ask mehow i wrote this in the middle of my 9 am lecture...i'm not proud of that either. happy 3k🤍 lovely !!! tysm for requesting xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!black!reader x cl. 16 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | cs. 55 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

implied bdsm dynamics. teasing. overstimulation. hinting at the existence of a safeword in carlos'. charles' praise kink. oscar is a lil weird maybe. sir kink for lewis...my fault y'all, i can't help it.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Franco’s not going to give you what you want until you beg for it. He loves to watch you grow desperate, your voice whiny and eyes watery as he begins to tease you with the faintest brush of his thumb on your clit after he’s been shallowly thrusting two of his fingers within you nowhere near long enough to satisfy himself but for what feels like forever to you. Franco’s aiming to bring you to the point where his name becomes a synonym for please in your thesaurus. The purpose of his teasing behavior is to make you delirious with pleasure when he chooses to give it to you in full force—your orgasms are substantially more satisfying when he makes you earn it.

Carlos thinks there are very few things more attractive than you begging. He finds you endearing as you push at his chest, your voice slurring as you plead for him to give you a break, that you can’t take what he’s giving you. He knows you don’t mean it though, not yet, at least—because while your hands are half-heartedly trying to bat him away, your legs are locked around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed inside of you to disallow him from slipping away. Carlos gathers both of your wrists in one hand, pinning your arms above your head as he continues his deep grinding rhythm, muffling his rumbling groans into the crook of your neck—you know what word to use if you need him to stop. In the meantime, he’ll keep basking under the sound of your overwhelmed begs.

It depends—Charles doesn’t have sex with the intention of having you beg for him most times. Honestly, he prefers to make you forget how to speak during sex, he wants to hear you gasping for breath as he fucks the air out of your lungs. If you are going to say anything, let it satisfy his endless desire for praise. Tell him that he’s doing a good job, that he looks hot with his head between your legs—his praise kink wins over his begging kink any day. Occasionally, there are days where Charles is going to make you ride his thigh and keep you on the edge, your throat will ache from the amount of times you beg for him to let you cum—but, he’s not in the mood for that often.

Oscar doesn’t consider his particular affliction as a begging kink. With him, it’s more of a kink for good manners. It’s not like he’s making you ask his permission to do anything, no—it’s how you stare up at him with deceivingly innocent eyes right before you say, “Can I suck you off, please?” Or, “Oscar, I wanna ride your face, please?” It’s not like any man would deny any of your requests, but it’s how the word please sounds rolling off of your tongue—it has Oscar ready to do anything you ask of him. You think his arousal stemming from politeness fits his personality perfectly; he can only think it’s kind of embarrassing. 

You’re going to be happy with what Lewis gives you. There’s no reason to beg because you know that he has your best interests at heart. Doesn’t he always deliver? You don’t have to worry about what you want because Lewis is going to give you what you need—your focus is to sit pretty while he handles the hard work. Let him eat you out to his heart’s content, let him mold your walls to the shape of his cock through numerous rounds of sex—All he wants to hear from you while he does it is, “Yes, sir,” and, “Thank you, sir.”

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[charles-leclerizz]

BACK SEAT SINS - CS 55

on the runway : carlos sainz x fem! reader

inspiration ( warnings ) : Profanity, smut !!! ( semi-public sex, Oral fixation, praise & teasing, creampie, hickeys), established relationship, Spanish dialogue

VIP's in the front row ( taglist ) : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @ksthegreat, @ccupcakqs]

Before the show begins ( synopsis ) : After a black-tie gala in Madrid, you and Carlos can’t wait until you’re home. So the backseat of your chauffeured car becomes your own personal playground. It’s filthy, slow, and everything your body’s been aching for, and best of all? The driver doesn’t blink. He’s used to you two by now.

Designer notes : so. I just think. we need a prayer circle for my soul?? Hope you enjoy anyway, make sure to wear your seatbelts <333

The hotel suite was filled with a golden light that made the city skyline outside shimmer like liquid gold, warming the pale walls and catching the soft sheen of the polished wooden floor. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress Carlos had helped you pick out earlier that day. It was a deep, sultry red-silk that felt like water against your skin-and just short enough to be daring without shouting for attention. The low back revealed the curve of your spine, and you could feel the slight chill of the air conditioning against your bare shoulders. 

Carlos was already dressed, his black tuxedo tailored perfectly to his lean frame, though the crispness of it contrasted with the relaxed way he lounged on the velvet chair nearby, watching you with an amused glint in his dark eyes. 

“You’re making me nervous,” you teased, tugging lightly at the hem, trying to decide if it was too short for the gala tonight. 

He stood, crossing the room in a few long strides, and crouched behind you, fingers tracing a slow line down your exposed back as he fastened the tiny clasp of your dress. His touch was gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity in the way his hands lingered a moment longer than necessary. 

“Nervous? Why? Because I’m distracting you?” His voice was low, almost a purr, laced with that unmistakable Spanish accent that always managed to make your heart race. 

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t want to be the centre of attention.” 

“Don’t worry about them,” he said, standing and brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You’ll only have eyes for me tonight.” 

You laughed softly, the tension easing as his warm hand settled at your waist. “I hope so.” 

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss just below your ear. “Te queda perfecta,” he whispered. It looks perfect on you.  “You’re going to turn heads- and not just because of the dress.” 

The way his breath tickled your skin sent a shiver through you. You turned fully to face him, your eyes meeting his in the mirror’s reflection. The confident curve of his lips, the dark promise in his eyes-everything about him told you this was going to be a night neither of you would forget. 

He stepped closer, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Now, let’s get you out of here and into that car. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” 

You smiled, heart fluttering, and nodded. “Lead the way, Guapo.”

The charity gala was one of those nights where the champagne flowed as freely as the thinly veiled competition. Ferrari had hosted it for years - an elegant evening raising money for children’s education, wrapped in silk and sparkling jewels. The soft hum of conversation blended with the gentle notes of a string quartet tucked into a corner, creating a fitting backdrop to the evening’s festivities. Waiters moved like shadows, offering champagne flutes and delicate hors d’oeuvres on silver trays, while the buzz of cameras lingered just out of sight. 

You moved easily through the crowd, Carlos’s hand resting lightly on the small of your back, grounding you amidst the swirl of social demands. Despite the noise, his presence felt like a shield - quiet, steady, reassuring. 

From across the room, you spotted Alexandra making her way toward you, Charles just a step behind her. Her sleek black dress hugged her figure with effortless grace, smile warm and genuine as she approached. Charles’s eyes flicked over you with that familiar mix of teasing and respect. 

“Look at you,” Alexandra said softly as she reached you, her voice carrying just enough warmth to make you feel welcomed but not overwhelmed. “You’re sparkling tonight.” 

You smiled, grateful for the familiar face. “Thank you. It’s easier when you’re with the best company.” 

Charles grinned, stepping closer. “Carlos’s lucky that your good taste is finally rubbing off.” 

Carlos gave a quiet chuckle, but his eyes never left you. 

Alexandra glanced around, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I have to say, it’s good to see you relaxed. Last time you looked like you were about to wrestle a bear.” 

You laughed softly. “That was the first day. I’m getting the hang of this ‘WAG life’ .” 

Charles smirked. “It’s not so bad once you know who’s worth your energy.” 

The four of you lingered near the terrace doors, where the cool night air drifted in. The hum of the city below was a quiet contrast to the glittering world inside. 

Alexandra caught your eye, a mischievous glint in hers as she clicked your champagne glasses together. “We should steal Carlos away from the crowd more often. Let him relax.” 

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile curling his lips. “Relaxation with her,” he said, nodding toward you, “isn’t exactly low-key.” 

You caught Carlos’s hand, weaving your fingers through his. “You make it sound like I’m trouble.” 

“Trouble,” he said softly, pulling you closer, “is exactly what I want.”

The gala’s final notes drifted into the night as the host gave a gracious farewell speech, thanking everyone for their generosity. Conversations slowed, and guests began to gather their coats and clutch their last glasses of champagne. 

Carlos gently squeezed your hand. “We should head out before the traffic gets bad. The after-party’s a bit far, and I want to make sure we get there on time.” 

You nodded, glad for the chance to escape the spotlight and have a moment to yourselves. The driver was already waiting outside, the sleek black SUV gleaming under the streetlights. 

As you stepped into the cool night air, the buzz of the city wrapped around you - a perfect contrast to the polished elegance inside. Carlos pulled you close, his hand settling at the small of your back as you slipped into the backseat. 

The door closed softly behind you, sealing the world out. 

The car pulled away from the hotel entrance, slipping into the quiet night streets of Madrid. The city lights flickered past like a slow-moving film reel, casting shifting shadows over Carlos’s sharp profile beside you. His hand found yours almost immediately, fingers intertwining with a possessive ease that made your pulse skip. 

“¿Estás nerviosa?” he asked softly, voice low and warm. Are you nervous?  

You glanced at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. “A little,” you admitted, squeezing his hand back. “But mostly excited. Tonight’s been... a lot.” 

He chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. “Lo sé. I saw how you handled yourself at the gala. Impressive.” 

You smiled, cheeks warming. “Thanks. I’m still figuring out this whole ‘famous person’ thing.” 

Carlos’s gaze softened. “You make it look easy.” 

The driver navigated smoothly through the quiet streets, the soft hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you. Outside, the world seemed miles away - but inside the car, the air grew heavier with something unspoken. 

Carlos’s hand found yours immediately, fingers intertwining with a possessive grip that made your pulse quicken. His eyes flicked over you, dark and hungry, and when he leaned in closer, his knee brushing yours under the shared space, his breath warmed your ear, “I’ve been waiting all day for this moment.” 

You bit your lip, heart pounding. “¿Qué momento ?” What moment? 

He reached over, fingers trailing up your arm, the touch feather-light and electric. “Este,” he whispered, pressing his palm to your cheek, thumb brushing over your lips. This 

Your breath caught, the familiar heat flaring between you. “Carlos…” 

Your breath hitched as he leaned even closer, lips brushing against your neck. “¿Sabes que esto no es el lugar correcto?” you whispered, meeting his mischievous eyes. Do you know this is not the right place? 

He smirked, turning his head just enough to capture your mouth in a soft, teasing peck. “Maybe that’s what makes it so exciting.” 

Your lips found his in a slow, lingering kiss that melted away the last of your nerves. When he pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin, his words were thick with desire. “Tonight, you’re mine. ¿Lo entiendes?” Do you understand? 

“Sí,” you breathed, voice trembling. 

His hand slid under the hem of your dress, fingers dancing over the soft skin of your thigh. The silk felt impossibly thin, a tantalizing barrier that only made his touch more urgent. 

“Shouldn’t we wait until we get somewhere more private?” you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your eagerness. 

Carlos smirked, eyes darkening. “That’s what makes this so divertido - the danger.” fun 

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the steady thrum of the engine. “You’re terrible.” 

“Only for you,” he said, leaning in to nibble your earlobe. 

His hand traced higher, sliding just beneath the fabric, fingers teasing the bare skin at the top of your thigh. Your breath hitched, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss. 

The driver’s occasional glances in the rearview mirror were a silent reminder of the risk - a thrill that made your skin prickle. 

Carlos’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Estás perfecta. Así. Just like this.” You look perfect. Like this. 

You moaned softly against his lips, the world shrinking until it was just you and Carlos, the car, and the delicious tension crackling between every touch. 

Carlos's fingers moved higher with an almost agonizing slowness, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he watched your breath catch. 

"You keep doing that," you whispered, voice low and ragged. "And I’m going to do something reckless." 

He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. "Ay, princesa... You already are." 

Your legs shifted, thighs parting slightly in the seat, an unconscious invitation he wasted no time taking. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your dress, fingers grazing your inner thigh with infuriating patience. 

Carlos let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Mierda... estás tan mojada." shit... you're so wet. 

Then, without warning, the pads of his fingers pressed lightly, circling, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties until you squirmed in your seat. The windows were fogging, the temperature in the car climbing despite the city’s night breeze outside. You bucked into his hand with a gasp, clutching his wrist. 

In the front, the driver kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, professional and detached, though Carlos didn’t lower his voice. If anything, he seemed emboldened by the risk - his hand slipping past the barrier of your panties, sliding through your slick folds with a rough sound in the back of his throat. 

"Carlos-" you breathed, biting your lip, head falling back against the leather. 

"Shh," he murmured, eyes dark and half-lidded, "You don’t want the driver to hear, do you?" 

The other hand came up and gripped your jaw firmly, thumb stroking along your bottom lip. Then he slid two fingers into your mouth. 

“Open,” he commanded quietly. 

You obeyed. 

His fingers pressed down heavy on your tongue, hot and slick from your own breath as he curled the ones inside you. The motion was deep and relentless, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your clit. 

You whimpered, muffled and helpless, the taste of his skin on your tongue as your back arched from the seat. 

Carlos moved closer, mouthing at your collarbone, then lower, lips dragging over the neckline of your dress to mouth at your breasts. 

"That’s it, buena chica... Take it for me." Good girl. 

You trembled, hips moving with him as pressure coiled low and tight in your abdomen. You could barely keep still. You could barely think. The movement of the car, the rich leather scent, the pressure of his palm against you - everything blurred. You writhed in his touch, heartbeat hammering as your hips rocked with instinctive rhythm. 

Carlos kissed you again, deep and open-mouthed, swallowing your soft cries as his fingers worked you open. 

"You going to come for me in this car, mi amor?" 

You whined into his mouth. "You’re such a cocky bastard." 

He grinned, lips dragging down your neck. "And you love it." 

Your orgasm hit like a snap of tension breaking, legs trembling as you buried your face in his shoulder, body clenching around his fingers. Carlos held you through it, murmuring soft nothings in your ear, pressing kisses into your cheek, your jaw, your throat. 

But he didn’t stop. He slowed only when your legs shook and your eyes fluttered shut, whispering low Spanish praise into the crook of your neck. 

He leaned closer, voice dark and heavy. "Get on top." 

You blinked at him. "Carlos-" 

He tilted his head, brows raised. "Ahora." Now 

Heat rushed through you, not just from arousal but from the audacity of it - the wicked thrill. Without thinking too hard, you climbed into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips on the smooth leather seat. Your dress rode high on your thighs, hips settling against the rigid line of him pressed beneath his trousers. You kissed him hard, fingers tugging at his belt, urgency taking over. He helped, unfastening it with one hand while the other slid up your back, pressing you down onto him. 

When you finally sank onto him, the stretch was overwhelming. Carlos grunted low in your ear, arms locking around your back. 

He hissed when you ground against him. "Fuck. You drive me crazy." 

"Then shut up and fuck me," you whispered. 

He slid inside you in one slow, devastating stroke, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan. You both stayed still for a moment, pressed together, breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathed. “You’re- oh god.” 

He held you there, buried deep, both of you motionless and trembling. Your foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, your open mouths hovering inches apart. 

He whispered, “Mírame.” Look at me 

You opened your eyes. 

His tongue flicked against yours - lazy, taunting, sensual - as you began to move. The first few rolls of your hips made your thighs ache, but the look on Carlos’s face made it worth it. 

He stared at you like you were the only thing in the universe, "Mierda... You feel too good," he murmured.  

Your rhythm deepened. He met you halfway, each thrust sending jolts up your spine. Your moans turned to breathy whines, your open mouth catching against his every few seconds. Tongue brushing tongue. Lips grazing lips. 

You continued to move, hips rolling slow and deep, the friction unbearable. He gripped your waist, guiding your rhythm, breathing hard. 

The car rocked faintly with every motion, the sound of wet heat and muffled gasps filling the space between you. Carlos’s voice stayed low, threading through the moans with Spanish curses and reverent filth. 

"Eso, mi vida. Así... Just like that." That's it, my life. Like that. 

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly to meet his thrusts, and your jaw dropped with a silent cry. 

"Tell me you want this," he said, forehead pressed to yours. 

"I want this. I want you," you breathed. "I always want you." 

The kiss he gave you then was almost tender - full of adoration wrapped in filth. He thrust up hard into you, repeatedly, chasing release. You clenched around him, head falling back. 

“Carlos,” you whimpered, voice climbing higher with each movement.“Fuckfuckfuckfuck-” 

His grip on your hips tightened, jaw clenched with restraint, but he smirked anyway. 

“Así, mi vida. Ride me just like that. So, fucking needy for me.” 

You buried your face in his neck as your orgasm slammed into you, hips stuttering, thighs trembling, his name a broken sob on your lips. 

He wasn’t far behind. His fingers tangled in your hair, teeth dragging against your collarbone as he pushed deep one final time and groaned into your skin. 

He came hard, filling you in hot, pulsing waves, your body milking him through it. 

The car slowed as the driver approached the curb, completely silent up front - either deaf, unfazed, or just incredibly well-paid. 

You stayed in Carlos’s lap, his arms still wrapped around you, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

The driver’s voice - calm, unbothered - floated back, "We’re here." 

Carlos was the first to break the silence. 

He leaned back slightly, watching the slow roll of your hips as you shifted. He smirked, one hand slipping down to trace the mess between your thighs. 

“Still keeping it in, eh?” 

Your face flushed. “I- what am I supposed to do?” 

He grinned, dragging his fingers up and slipping one of them between your lips again. 

“Qué buena chica. Look at you... so full of me. Can’t even think straight.” 

You shifted gently in Carlos’s lap, licking your lips as his fingers popped out of your mouth, now searching in his back pocket. You tried not to whimper at the overstimulation, the warmth between your thighs a telltale reminder of what had just happened. 

Carlos leaned back, still lazily stroking circles on your thigh, utterly content. Then he pulled out his wallet and slipped a few notes forward through the crack in the divider. 

“Gracias por la discreción,” he said to the driver. "Y la ruta... creativa." Thanks for your discretion. And the route... creative. 

His driver didn't blink. “Same time next week?” 

Carlos barked out a laugh. “Maybe sooner.” 

You groaned, hiding your face in his neck. Carlos kissed your shoulder, smug as ever. 

The car door clicked open, and the cool air hit your flushed skin like a slap. You slid off Carlos’s lap as gracefully as you could, fixing your dress and ignoring the sticky mess between your legs. Carlos climbed out behind you, unbothered as ever. 

The after-party buzzed ahead - low music, flashing lights, and laughter spilling from the open doors of the villa-style venue. As you walked up the stone steps arm in arm, a familiar voice called out. 

“Mate!” It was Lando, standing with Charles and Alexandra. “Didn’t you leave right after us? Took you long enough.” 

Charles smirked knowingly. “Traffic must’ve been brutal, no?” 

Carlos didn’t even flinch. “Phantom traffic,” he said smoothly, shrugging. “Madrid’s unpredictable.” 

You snorted, pressing your face to his shoulder to hide your grin. 

Later, when you leaned up to whisper, "Did he actually take the long way?" 

Carlos dipped his mouth to your ear, voice low and wicked. "Cariño… all these months of fucking in the car, you really think my driver takes the normal route? He circles like five hundred blocks. He’s a goddamn tour guide at this point." 

You choked on a laugh. “You're insufferable.” 

He kissed your temple and whispered, "And you're still full of me, mi amor. Keep that chin up. Don’t let them see how wrecked you are." 

You elbowed him, and he laughed, tugging you closer as the two of you stepped into the party like nothing scandalous had ever happened. 

EPILOGUE :

The sun slipped through the gaps in the blackout curtains, casting golden lines across the crisp white sheets and your bare shoulder. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the soft shuffle of movement in the ensuite bathroom. 

You stood at the sink in one of Carlos’s old Ferrari T-shirts - oversized, worn-in, and still smelling like him. You’d just stepped out of the shower, hair damp, towel twisted around your head, toothbrush hanging lazily from the corner of your mouth. 

The mirror was still foggy, but enough had cleared for you to catch the first faint shadow on your collarbone. Then another, lower. Then a cluster of bruises blooming along your chest and neck. 

You stared. 

“Carlos,” you called around your toothbrush. 

A rustle, then his voice behind you. “¿Sí?” 

He appeared in the doorway shirtless, still towel-drying his hair, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants slung dangerously low. He had one AirPod in and was scrolling through his phone, clearly half-listening. 

You pointed at your neck with your brush. “You’re actually unhinged.” 

He looked up, took in the bruises with a slow smirk, then leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “That wasn’t me. Must’ve been phantom traffic.” 

You snorted, laughing around the toothpaste foam. “You’re not funny.” 

He wandered over, lazily setting his phone down on the counter before wrapping both arms around your waist from behind. His mouth found the top of your shoulder, then one of the hickeys. He pressed a soft kiss to it. 

“I like seeing them,” he said, voice low. “Means you’re mine.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. “It looks like I lost a bar fight.” 

Carlos grinned into your skin. “You did. And you loved it.” 

He watched in the mirror as you tried to fix your hair one-handed, the other still brushing. He reached over, took the brush from your fingers, and started gently combing through the wet strands with his fingers. 

You met his eyes in the mirror, nudging him with your hip. “So… what time is the driver scheduled for our scenic route today?” 

He laughed, low and warm. “Anytime you want, princesa. He's basically on retainer at this point.” 

You smiled, rinsed your mouth, and leaned back against his chest. 

“Good,” you murmured. “I like the view.” 

[sweetshuga]

Roommates 7 ✧ CS [Finale]

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

roomie!chris! Finding the truth about your roommate—his dirty little secrets.

Everything went back to normal after your confrontation. You decided to forget about it all and go on about your day without thinking about the weird feelings you had developed.

Even so, you couldn’t ignore the way he would look at you sometimes – like he was checking you out – which the rational part of your brain kept telling you it was just your imagination and that you were delusional.

All the ground rules swirled in your mind like a broken record.

You can’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt when you remembered all the times you’ve broken the rules—without him knowing.

Rule number 1: Do not fall for each other.

You felt that spark you shouldn’t have felt.

Rule number 2: Do not invade each other’s privacy.

You eavesdropped his alone time.

Rule number 3: Do not touch each other’s belongings.

You took his camo tee.

Rule number 4: Don’t invite guests over after dark.

You let your friend come over despite it being late.

Rule number 5: Respect each other’s boundaries.

You went into his room while he was out.

Rule number 6: Do not lie to each other.

You lied through your teeth about not knowing where his camo tee was.

Rule number 7, the final rule: Clean up after yourself.

The final rule is the only one you haven’t broken yet, what to say, you were a bit of a clean freak after all. Chris, too, always kept his room tidy and cleaned after himself around the dorm.

𓆩♡𓆪

One evening, as you lounged on the couch, you felt a sudden feeling in your gut. You tried to shrug it off, thinking it was just a light stomach ache, but the feeling didn’t go away, only worsened.

Annoyed, you stood up—determined to get rid of the feeling. And as you walked, you couldn’t help but peek into Chris’ room; he had gone out.

Your stomach churned with nerves as you slowly let yourself in his room, yet again. You had broken the rule already, it wouldn’t hurt to break it again, right?

Your gaze landed on his bedside drawer, curiosity sparked within you as you took subconscious steps towards it. You wanted to know if that thong was still inside the drawer you previously found it in, and there it was, the same peach coloured frilly lacy thong.

You let out a small gasp as you checked the size and brand—it was without a doubt yours. You stared at the scrunched up fabric in your hands, questions flooded your head, the loudest one being, "why?" You echoed your thoughts out loud.

Looking around his room, you stood up, the thong clutched in your hands as you hesitantly opened his closet—only to find various polaroids of you and a few more of your lingerie.

The sight was almost too much to handle and you closed his closet, leaning against it, you murmured quietly, "what the fuck..." Confusion etched on your features.

You took a deep breath and turned around, facing the closet door once again and opened it. Crouching down as you inspected the polaroids. They were of you sleeping, looking away, cooking– he had taken them when you weren’t looking or paying attention.

"Jesus..." You breathed out, "what is all this?" Your hands reached for the lingerie. Pink lacy thongs, blue frilly ones, black g-strings—every one of them yours.

𓆩♡𓆪

Closing his bedroom door, you headed straight into your room. You plopped on your bed – looking up at the ceiling – with a drop in your gut. You only now knew who you were living under a roof with. A sick fucker, disguised by his good looks and innocent behaviour.

Despite your thoughts and the fright you felt, there was a small smile on your face—as if you were relishing in the newfound attention.

You weren’t as scared as you should’ve been, instead, his obsession with you seemed to make your heart race, in a sick, twisted way.

𓆩♡𓆪

When Chris arrived back to the dorm, he noticed that his room door was slightly ajar, and as he entered it, his heart dropped to the floor.

The things he so desperately wanted to hide – his dirty little secrets – were scattered all across his bed and floor. Lingerie and Polaroids adorning his once tidy room.

His heart raced with fear and excitement as he looked back at your bedroom door, closed but with a note stuck on it.

"I know."

𓆩♡𓆪

Rule number 7: Clean up after yourself.

You had left it messy, on purpose.

𓆩♡𓆪

rule. 1 2 3 4 5 6 Origin

wc. 754

note. English is not my first language—if you didn't catch on with my poor vocabulary and writing skills.

Isa's notes. This is the last part of the blurb series! But spoiler? I'm writing the full length fanfic to the series! Dunno when I'll finish it, let's just say I got a writers block kinda situation going on right now, sucks ass but yeah... At least this one is the longest in the series. And as much as I want to continue this series, the rules are limited sooo... Here we are, saying goodbye to roomie!chris, for now ♡

Also, the fact that the blurb series started off with a cute little fluff kinda thing to this? Plot twist hoes 😋

Taglist: @certified-sturniolo @sturnioloszn @ashlishes @slut4brunettes @wpcne8sr @ribread03 @poolover123 @h3arts4nat @freakbob15

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

© sweetshuga

[hereforuconnwbb]

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER EIGHT

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 10.9k

warning: language, drugs

I PRE WROTE ALL TS AND WAS GONNA POST LATER BUT IMMA POST NOW CS IM SO GIDDY AND HYPED AZZI IS BACK FOR ANOTHER YEAR LESSSSFUCKENGOOOOOOOO

hey guys heres chapter 8 !! ik u guys wanted me to fix it but hey, we r getting there veryyyyy slowly 🤞🏽 gonna build off of this in the next chapter and maybe get them right ??? 🤷🏽‍♀️ we will see 😛 im hoping i didnt leave any mistakes in here and that it all adds up but hopefully yall enjoy !!!

DISCLAIMER: i want to make it clear that i DO NOT support, condone, or normalise victim blaming, manipulation, or any form of abuse. this story is purely fictional and meant for storytelling purposes, exploring themes of deception, miscommunication, and emotional conflict. the events depicted are not meant to excuse harmful behaviour but rather to show how misunderstandings and outside influences can impact relationships. if any part of this story is upsetting, please read with discretion.

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

A few days had passed since the incident at Ted’s, and the silence between Paige and Azzi was deafening. Neither had reached out to the other, both wrapped up in their own spiraling emotions, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between them.

Paige had spent the last few days in a haze, replaying everything over and over in her head, feeling the weight of the mistake she’d made. She hadn’t known Lexi had drugged her, but the consequences of her unconsciousness were now clearer than ever. Azzi was hurt, and Paige couldn’t fix that — not yet, at least.

She couldn’t bring herself to call Azzi. The idea of hearing the coldness in her voice, or worse, hearing nothing at all, made her stomach twist. She knew Azzi had blocked her number. She had seen it in the moment of panic after waking up, and it hit her harder than any physical blow.

The days dragged by in an uncomfortable mix of regret and confusion. Paige found herself constantly checking her phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Not even a hint of the person she’d come to rely on, to trust.

Azzi, on the other hand, was no better off. She sat in her room, staring blankly at her phone, unable to erase the image of Paige with Lexi’s lips pressed against hers. It burned in her mind every time she closed her eyes, the overwhelming betrayal eating away at her. Her heart ached in ways she hadn’t known possible, but her pride kept her from reaching out. What was there left to say?

Each passing hour felt like a battle to hold herself together, to not let her emotions get the better of her. She missed Paige. She missed the connection they shared, the easy comfort of being with her. But she also felt foolish for letting herself believe it was real. How could she have been so blind? And now, all she had was the image of Paige, unconscious, while Lexi twisted everything for her own gain.

Caroline had tried to comfort her, offering words of support, but even she had become a distant figure in the background. Azzi couldn’t focus on anything except the pain of what had happened. She’d blocked Paige’s number because she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want to hear more lies, more empty apologies. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Paige anymore. It was that she couldn’t trust her. Not now.

Paige lay in bed now, scrolling mindlessly through social media, trying to drown out the quiet ache in her chest. She didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know where to start. The whole situation felt too complicated to untangle, but she knew she needed to find a way to apologize — and more than that, to explain what had really happened.

But how could she even begin? Would Azzi believe her?

Paige sat up, the silence in her room feeling more suffocating than it ever had before. Her phone lay in her hands, the screen lit up with messages from KK and Ice, but not a single word from Azzi. She couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep staring at her phone, hoping Azzi would maybe unblock her and reach out. She had to be the one to break the silence.

But where to start?

With a shaky breath, she unlocked her phone and scrolled through her contacts, stopping when her eyes landed on Caroline’s name. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen. Caroline wasn’t exactly Azzi, but she was close. She might not be the one to forgive her, but maybe she could help. Maybe she could tell her what to do. After all, she had been there through everything with Azzi.

Finally, Paige tapped out a message, her heart pounding.

Paige: Hey, Caroline. Can we talk? I need to explain myself.

It took a few minutes before the dots appeared, and then the reply came. Caroline’s response was swift, but it hit like a punch to the gut.

Caroline: Paige, I don’t think you and Azzi should be talking right now. She’s hurt, and I don’t think it’s going to help either of you for me to be the messenger. You fucked up, and now you need to give her space.

Paige winced, the sharpness of Caroline’s words striking her harder than she had expected. She had known it was coming, but it still stung.

Paige: Caroline, I swear, I didn’t.

Caroline: I don’t care what you didn’t do. The fact is, she’s upset, and you need to respect that. Azzi’s not in a place where she wants to hear from you, and I don’t think it would help. Not right now. And honestly? I don’t think she’d want me to be talking to you either, but I’m not going to be the one to make this harder for her. She’s already been through enough.

Paige’s hands trembled as she read the messages over and over. She could feel the anger, the hurt in Caroline’s words, and she couldn’t blame her for it. She had let Azzi down, let both of them down, and now Caroline was just as angry. But she needed to talk to someone. She needed to explain.

Paige: Caroline, please. I just— I didn’t know what was happening. I was drugged. Lexi did it. I— I’m not making excuses, I just need Azzi to know that. I need to explain to her that I didn’t do this intentionally. It wasn’t me.

The reply came quickly, almost too quickly.

Caroline: I know you think you’re explaining, but right now, it’s not going to help. Azzi needs time, and I’m not sure if she’ll even want to hear what you have to say when she’s ready. You’ve hurt her, Paige. I think you need to take a step back and think about that.

Caroline’s words were like a slap in the face. Paige’s chest tightened as the weight of her own mistakes came crashing down again. She didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know if Azzi would ever be able to look at her the same way again.

Paige: But I love her. I really do, Caroline. I never meant for any of this to happen. Please, just tell her I’m sorry.

Caroline didn’t reply for several minutes, and when she did, it was in a much softer tone.

Caroline: I’m not the one to give you her forgiveness, Paige. You’ll have to work for that. Just… think about what you’ve done. Think about how Azzi feels.

Paige read the message over and over again, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. She didn’t deserve Azzi’s forgiveness. Not yet. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight for it. She had to.

She just didn’t know how.

—----------------

Azzi sat on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the floor. Her phone lay beside her, still turned over, as if even looking at it would bring back everything she was trying to push away. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, Paige’s words—or what she thought were Paige’s words—kept replaying in her mind.

She had barely slept since that night. Barely eaten. Everything felt off. On the court, she was slower, unfocused. She hadn’t even told her teammates what happened, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would. She just kept pretending she was fine, when in reality, she felt like she was unraveling.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

Caroline stepped inside, her expression cautious. “Hey,” she said softly.

Azzi just hummed in response, not looking up.

Caroline walked over and sat beside her, exhaling before speaking. “Paige texted me.”

Azzi stiffened at the mention of her name. Her jaw clenched, but she still didn’t look up.

“She wanted to talk,” Caroline continued. “Said she needed to explain herself.”

That made Azzi scoff. “Explain what? That she lost interest? That she wanted her ex instead?” Her voice was bitter, laced with hurt. “I don’t need an explanation, Care. She made it pretty damn clear.”

Caroline hesitated for a second before nodding. “I told her I didn’t think you’d want to talk to her,” she admitted. “I shut her down.”

Azzi finally lifted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment before she exhaled. “Good.”

Caroline studied her carefully. “Are you sure?”

Azzi let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “What am I supposed to do? Let her talk her way out of this? She kissed Lexi, Caroline. She literally told me she wanted her. And then she let me find out with a damn picture? Nah. I don’t wanna hear anything from her.”

Caroline frowned but didn’t argue. “I get it,” she said. “And I’m not saying you should forgive her. But… you’re not okay.”

Azzi looked away. “I’ll be fine.”

Caroline sighed. “You don’t have to be fine right now. But you also don’t have to act like this doesn’t hurt.”

Azzi swallowed, trying to keep herself composed. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” she muttered.

Caroline nodded slowly. “Alright,” she said, squeezing Azzi’s knee gently before standing up. “Just know I’m here, okay? For whatever you need.”

Azzi didn’t respond, just gave a small nod before Caroline walked out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

And no matter how much she tried to bury them, they weren’t going away anytime soon.

—----------------

Paige sat at her desk, her phone still in her hand, though it had been a few minutes since she sent the message to Caroline. She didn’t expect an immediate response, but she still stared at the screen, waiting for something—anything—that would bring some relief to the knot in her chest. There was no reply from Caroline yet, and, even though she’d already given her the cold shoulder, it felt like she had lost Azzi for good.

She couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at her. The way Azzi had blocked her, the way everything had gone from feeling perfect to nothing in the blink of an eye. Paige had never felt so helpless in her life. She hated herself for that night. For letting herself get caught up in Lexi’s twisted games, for not being able to explain herself, for letting Azzi slip away.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair to either of them. She hadn’t had the chance to tell Azzi what had actually happened. She hadn’t even had a chance to apologize properly before things had spiraled out of control. Paige wiped at her eyes, trying to blink away the tears, but they kept coming. She hated the weakness she felt, the tears that kept spilling out even though she couldn’t stop them.

She couldn’t explain to Azzi. Azzi wouldn’t listen. She had no way of telling her that she wasn’t the one who sent the messages. That it hadn’t been her kissing Lexi, that she had been knocked out, unconscious, and that the whole thing had been twisted into something that it wasn’t. She wanted to scream, to shout at the top of her lungs to anyone who would listen, but all she could do was sit there, feeling more alone than she ever had.

And Azzi—Azzi would never know.

Paige felt the suffocating weight of her isolation, the constant ache in her chest. She couldn’t reach out to Azzi. Not after what happened. Azzi had made her choice. She had blocked Paige’s number, had made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with her. And Paige couldn’t blame her. Not after everything that had happened.

But still, the thought of not being able to explain herself, of not being able to make Azzi see that she was innocent in all of this, tore her apart. She needed Azzi to know. She needed her to understand that everything had gone wrong, and she had been powerless to stop it.

Paige wiped at her eyes again, letting out a shaky breath. She hated this. Hated feeling like she had no voice. No way to make things right.

The room felt too small, too suffocating, and Paige stood up abruptly, pacing for a moment before grabbing her jacket. A walk. She needed a walk.

Without thinking about it any further, she grabbed her keys, slipped on her shoes, and stepped out into the cold night air. The campus was quieter than usual, the only sounds being her footsteps echoing on the pavement as she walked aimlessly, hoping the chill in the air would cool her thoughts, calm the storm inside her head.

Her mind kept circling back to Azzi. She kept wondering where things had gone wrong. When had everything started to unravel? Had it been Lexi’s reappearance? Had it been her letting her guard down and trusting the wrong person?

Paige wanted to scream at herself, to apologize for everything she had done wrong. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t take back any of it. She couldn’t change what had happened. And the longer she walked, the more she felt like a part of her was just slipping away.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to fix this.

The tears came again, harder this time, but she didn’t even bother to wipe them away. She let them fall, letting the cool breeze brush against her face as she tried to breathe through the pain. All she wanted was to hold Azzi, to make everything right again, but she knew that would never happen. She knew she had messed it all up beyond repair.

And the worst part? She didn’t even know how she’d get back from it.

Paige’s footsteps slowed, the weight of the night pressing down on her as she wandered aimlessly through the quiet campus. She could hear the soft rustling of leaves in the trees, but it felt like the world around her was miles away. Every step was a reminder of how broken she felt, and the pain in her chest felt like it might swallow her whole.

As she turned a corner, the sound of voices caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat—Ice and KK. They had probably come looking for her. She hadn’t been in her room for hours. She hadn’t wanted to be there, hadn’t wanted to face the emptiness of it all. But now, she was alone, and the guilt was suffocating.

“Paige,” Ice’s voice called gently, and Paige’s shoulders tensed, the weight of the tears she’d been holding back finally breaking through. She didn’t even try to hide them as they fell freely down her face. She felt small in that moment, vulnerable in a way that she wasn’t used to. But the comforting presence of her friends made the pain a little more bearable.

KK was the first to reach her, pulling her into a tight hug. Ice followed, wrapping her arms around Paige as well, the trio standing in the quiet night with nothing but the sound of Paige’s soft sobs filling the air.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ice whispered softly, her voice soothing as she rubbed Paige’s back. “You don’t have to be alone in this, alright? We’ve got you.”

Paige could barely catch her breath, but somehow, just being held in their arms felt like the tiniest bit of relief. She had been running on empty for so long, her emotions too tangled to even make sense of. But now, with KK and Ice there, she felt like she could finally break down—like she could admit how badly she was hurting.

“I messaged Caroline,” Paige finally whispered between shaky breaths. “I thought… maybe she could help me explain. But she shut me down. She shut me down…” The words stung more than she expected, and she felt a fresh wave of tears crash down on her.

Ice’s grip tightened around her. “You tried, Paige. You’re trying. That’s all you can do right now.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Paige choked out, her voice cracking. “I just… I can’t lose her, but it feels like I already have. I can’t even explain what happened to Azzi. I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but everything’s messed up now.”

KK’s voice was quiet but firm. “You’ve got to give her time. Azzi’s hurting too, you know? You can’t blame yourself for everything, Paige. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t even get to tell her what happened,” Paige whispered, barely able to speak the words through the lump in her throat. “I didn’t get to tell her I was unconscious when the picture was taken, when the messages were sent… I didn’t get to explain myself.”

Ice sighed softly, her fingers still gently brushing through Paige’s hair. “Paige, we know. But right now, you can’t carry all of this on your own. You’ve got to give Azzi some space. You know how she is—she’s hurt, too.”

Paige nodded weakly, burying her face into Ice’s shoulder. “But I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“You can’t fix it overnight,” KK said, her voice full of quiet assurance. “But you can start by being honest with her. And with yourself. You’re not alone in this, Paige. You’ve got us. We’ll help you through it.”

Paige nodded, her tears slowly subsiding as the weight of her friends’ words sank in. She still had a long road ahead of her, and there was no telling how things would turn out with Azzi. But for now, she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to carry this pain by herself.

With a shaky breath, Paige whispered, “Thanks… both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

KK gave a soft laugh, squeezing her tighter. “You’ll never have to find out, Paige. We’re here for you. We always will be.”

As the three of them stood there, the cold night air no longer seemed so suffocating. It wasn’t much, but it was a small glimmer of hope in the middle of all the darkness. And for the first time in days, Paige allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could make things right with Azzi.

—----------------

The morning after the late-night breakdown, Paige awoke feeling heavy. The guilt still clung to her, but today was game day—UConn was playing at Gampel Pavilion, and she couldn’t afford to be consumed by her emotions. She had to push through. She had to focus on basketball, even if it was hard to focus on anything else.

As the team began to prepare, the gym buzzed with excitement, the energy of the upcoming game pulsing through the air. Paige couldn’t shake the thoughts of Azzi, but she was determined not to let it affect her performance. Today, she would be focused. She would be the Paige Bueckers the fans knew and loved.

During warm-ups, Paige went through the motions, bouncing a ball between her hands, stretching her legs, and mentally preparing for the game. The stands were already filling up with fans—die-hard UConn supporters who were excited to see their team compete. Paige couldn’t help but notice how many eyes were on her. She always thrived in the spotlight, but today it felt different.

As she walked toward the sideline, a young fan caught her attention. The little girl was holding a sign that said, “I believe in you, Paige!” It made Paige smile despite everything she was carrying inside. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a couple standing near the front row, holding a baby who was staring up at her with big, curious eyes.

“Hey there,” Paige smiled softly, walking up to them. The baby’s eyes locked onto hers, and she couldn’t help but wave. “Hi, little one! You’re so cute.”

The baby giggled and reached out a small hand toward her. Paige’s heart melted. It was a simple interaction, but it was the kind of innocence and sweetness that she desperately needed in this moment. Without thinking, she bent down to get closer to the baby, letting the little one grasp her finger. The parents were smiling, clearly just as touched by the moment as she was.

“I think you’re a future UConn fan,” Paige said with a chuckle, her voice warm and gentle. “Look at you, already a natural.”

The baby babbled happily, and Paige couldn’t help but laugh. She made a silly face, trying to get the baby to smile more. And sure enough, the little one broke out into a bright grin that had Paige grinning back, feeling a brief respite from her worries.

The moment felt perfect in its simplicity. Paige spent a few more moments chatting with the parents, thanking them for their support before she moved on to the next part of her warm-up routine. But what she didn’t know was that someone had captured the interaction on their phone, and before long, the video was being shared all over social media.

By the time the game was about to begin, the video had gone viral. The caption read: “Paige Bueckers making our hearts melt with this precious moment with a young fan! This is why we love her!” Fans flooded her social media with praise, commenting on how sweet and genuine the moment had been. It was a reminder of why Paige was so adored, even in the midst of everything she was going through.

—----------------

Azzi sat in her dorm room, the quiet hum of her laptop filling the space as she stared at the screen, not really focusing on anything in particular. She had spent the last few days pushing herself through the routine of school and practice, keeping herself busy, trying to avoid the thoughts of Paige that constantly swirled in her mind. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the pain.

As she scrolled mindlessly through social media, something caught her eye. It was a video, a short clip of Paige interacting with a baby fan during warm-ups before the game. Azzi’s heart skipped a beat as the thumbnail loaded. She hadn’t expected to see Paige on her feed, especially not like this.

The video was simple but so undeniably sweet. Paige was crouching down, smiling brightly at the little baby, making faces and engaging with the child in a way that was pure and endearing. Azzi couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest, watching the way Paige lit up in that moment. She hadn’t seen Paige so carefree in a while, and the sight of her doing something so genuine made Azzi’s heart ache with longing.

She swallowed hard, not expecting this reaction. But there it was—right in front of her, the real Paige, not the one with the cold, distant energy from the last few days. The Paige who made her feel like the world was worth it.

Azzi paused the video, taking a deep breath. The urge to reach out to Paige was almost overwhelming, but she quickly shoved that thought aside. No. Not after everything that had happened.

Despite what happened between them, she couldn’t help but admire the way Paige had handled the situation with the baby. It was clear that Paige was still the same person, the one she had fallen for. But Azzi couldn’t forget the betrayal she felt when Paige’s ex had sent her those messages, the photo, everything that had gone down.

Still, watching the video made Azzi feel conflicted. She couldn’t just turn off all her feelings for Paige, not when she still cared so deeply. It was hard, too hard, to simply pretend that the connection wasn’t there anymore.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head, trying to clear the fog in her mind. She glanced at the clock—there was still time before the game started. In a quiet decision, she clicked over to UConn’s sports app, finding the live stream of the game. It wasn’t the same as being there, but it was something.

She hit “Play,” and the game footage loaded, the pre-game buzzer echoing through her speakers. It was hard to admit, but a part of Azzi wanted to watch—wanted to see Paige play, to see her in her element. She missed it. She missed her.

With a small sigh, Azzi adjusted the volume, leaned back in her chair, and watched as the camera panned across the court, waiting for the game to start.

—----------------

The game was intense from the start. Their opponent came out aggressive, matching UConn’s energy possession for possession. Paige quickly found herself in a battle, hounded by a tough defender who was making every dribble, every cut, a challenge. But Paige thrived in these moments.

She took control early, weaving through the defense and knocking down a pull-up jumper from the elbow for the first points of the game. The crowd erupted, but there was no time to celebrate. Their opponent responded immediately with a three-pointer on the other end, setting the tone for what was about to be a tight, physical contest.

The first quarter flew by, a back-and-forth affair with neither team able to break away. Paige dished out assists, finding her teammates in transition and setting them up for open shots. She hit another mid-range jumper, then drilled a three of her own off a screen, keeping UConn in rhythm. But every time they gained momentum, their opponent answered right back, refusing to let them build a lead.

By halftime, the score was tied.

Paige wiped the sweat from her forehead as she made her way to the locker room. The intensity of the game was exactly what she needed—something to pour herself into, something to distract her from everything off the court. But even as she focused on the game plan, the weight of the last few days still lingered in the back of her mind.

Coming out of halftime, UConn looked to push the pace. Paige initiated the break, driving into the lane before kicking the ball out for a three. She followed it up with a hard drive to the rim, finishing through contact for an and-one. The crowd erupted as she flexed her arms for a brief second before stepping to the free-throw line.

But their opponent wouldn’t go away. They responded with a run of their own, forcing turnovers and capitalizing on second-chance points. By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, the game was still up for grabs.

Paige stood near the sideline, catching her breath as the buzzer sounded to signal the start of the final period. The score was nearly even, and it was clear this one was going to come down to the wire.

She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back again. One more quarter. That’s all that mattered now.

—----------------

Paige bent over slightly, resting her hands on her knees as she took deep breaths. The fourth quarter had been nothing short of a war. Both teams were going at it, possession for possession, neither backing down. Bodies crashed into each other on drives, defenders slapped at the ball with desperate aggression, and every bucket felt like it could be the turning point.

With under five minutes left, the game was deadlocked. Paige had already taken several hard hits, her jersey damp with sweat, but she wasn’t going to slow down now. She snatched a rebound and pushed the pace, weaving through defenders before dishing a no-look pass to her teammate for a layup. The crowd roared as UConn took a slim two-point lead.

But the other team refused to go away.

A deep three from their point guard put them back on top. The next possession, Paige fought through a double team, spun into the lane, and finished with a tough floater over an outstretched hand. The lead changed again.

Each time UConn scored, their opponent responded. The clock ticked down, the intensity inside Gampel reaching a fever pitch. The fans were on their feet, screaming on every possession, the sound rattling through the arena.

With thirty seconds left, UConn was up by one. Paige locked in defensively, her stance low as she shadowed her matchup. But their opponent made a quick move, driving hard to the basket. Paige slid over to help, but the ball handler kicked it out to the corner. The three-pointer went up.

And it dropped.

The opposing bench erupted as the shot fell through the net. With only six seconds left on the clock, UConn was suddenly trailing by two.

Paige felt her stomach twist, but there was no time to dwell on it. No timeouts. No huddles. Just instincts.

She grabbed the inbound pass and took off down the court.

Her defender rushed up, trying to force her wide, but Paige cut back to the middle, her feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted across half-court. The clock was down to two seconds. There was no time for anything else.

Paige planted her foot and launched a deep shot from just beyond half-court.

The ball sailed through the air, the entire arena holding its breath.

Then—

Swish.

The net barely moved as the ball dropped in.

Gampel Pavilion erupted.

Paige barely had time to react before her teammates swarmed her, bodies crashing into her as they screamed and grabbed at her jersey. The crowd was deafening, the floor shaking with the sheer force of the celebration.

She had won them the game.

Paige was breathless, hands in her hair as she tried to process what had just happened. She had done this before. She had hit clutch shots before. But tonight? This one meant everything.

For the first time in days, she felt something other than heartbreak.

She felt alive.

—----------------

Azzi sat on her bed, her eyes locked onto the screen as the game reached its final moments. The intensity had her gripping the edge of her blanket, her breath caught in her throat as she watched the opposing team drain a clutch three to take the lead.

Her heart pounded, even though she told herself she wasn’t as invested as she used to be. This wasn’t her team. She wasn’t supposed to care.

But then—Paige got the ball.

Azzi could see it coming before it even happened. The way Paige moved, the confidence in her stride, the way she pulled up from beyond half-court without hesitation.

Then—

Swish.

Azzi sucked in a breath as the crowd erupted, her stomach twisting as she watched Paige’s teammates swarm her in celebration.

Classic Paige.

It was the kind of moment that would be all over social media within minutes. The kind of moment that made Paige who she was—clutch, fearless, electric. Azzi had seen it firsthand so many times before.

And for a split second, just for a moment, she forgot everything.

She forgot about the messages.

She forgot about the picture.

She forgot about the way her heart had shattered.

Because all she could see was the girl she—

Azzi clenched her jaw and exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

No.

She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, the screen going black instantly.

She refused to let herself get caught up in Paige Bueckers again. Not after everything.

Azzi leaned back against her pillows, sighing heavily.

It didn’t matter what Paige did. It didn’t change anything.

—----------------

Paige sat on the edge of her bed, still in her game gear, staring at the floor. The cheers from Gampel still echoed in her head, the weight of her game-winning shot still lingering in her body. Any other time, she would have been ecstatic—reliving the moment over and over, scrolling through the endless reactions online, feeling on top of the world.

But now? It felt… hollow.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, fingers threading through her damp hair. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving her drained, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with basketball.

Azzi hadn’t texted her.

She hadn’t expected her to, but a part of her had still hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, Azzi had seen the shot and thought of her. That she would reach out, even if just for a second.

But there was nothing. Just silence.

Paige blinked against the sting in her eyes, shaking her head. This is my fault. She kept telling herself that, over and over, even though she still didn’t have all the answers. Even though the entire night was still a blur, even though she knew she would never—could never—do that to Azzi. It didn’t matter.

Because Azzi thought she did.

Paige pulled out her phone, staring at their chat—the one that had been one-sided since that night. Every message she had sent after getting her phone back had gone nowhere. Blocked. The word still sat heavy in her chest, suffocating her.

She wanted to explain. She wanted to scream that she didn’t do what Azzi thought she did. That she had blacked out before anything happened. That she would never betray her like that. But she had no way to reach her. No way to make her listen.

Paige inhaled sharply and tossed her phone onto the bed beside her, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

It wasn’t just the loss of Azzi that made her feel like this. It was the helplessness. The way she felt like she had no voice, no control, no way to fix what had been broken.

And she didn’t know how to live with that.

—----------------

Meanwhile, Ice sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone in hand as she scrolled through her TikTok drafts. “Yo, KK, remember when you were acting a damn fool at Ted’s that night?” she teased, smirking as she tapped on a video.

KK, lying across the floor with a bag of chips, rolled her eyes. “Acting a fool? Nah, I was carrying the energy that night.”

“Uh-huh,” Ice chuckled, pressing play. The video showed KK hyping up the crowd, doing some ridiculous dance moves in the middle of the bar while people cheered. Ice’s camera work was shaky from her laughing, but it captured everything—the loud music, the packed room, the chaos of the night.

They kept watching, laughing at KK’s moves, until Ice went to the next draft—another angle, another clip. The camera had been pointed at KK, but it was a little wider this time, catching more of the background.

And that’s when it happened.

KK was mid-spin when Ice’s laughter suddenly died in her throat. Her fingers twitched as she tapped the screen to pause the video.

“Wait.”

KK, still munching on chips, barely looked up. “Wait what?”

“Look,” Ice muttered, rewinding a few seconds and then slowing the video down. She zoomed in, her heart sinking as she focused on the background.

There was Paige. She was turned slightly away from the bar, caught up in a conversation with someone—not Ice, not KK, but another person they couldn’t see clearly. And behind her—just for a split second—Lexi stepped into the frame.

And then, clear as day, Lexi’s hand moved over Paige’s drink pouring substances in.

KK sat up so fast she nearly knocked the chip bag over. “Hold the fuck up—”

Ice played the clip again, watching the same thing happen. Paige had been distracted, fully unaware. And Lexi? She had been quick. Smooth. As if she had done this before.

Ice and KK locked eyes, the air suddenly thick with realization.

“Tell me I’m tripping,” KK said, voice lower now, serious.

Ice’s jaw clenched. “You’re not tripping.”

KK exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “Paige doesn’t know. She doesn’t know she was drugged.”

Ice’s stomach twisted. Paige had been blaming herself this whole time, drowning in guilt, thinking she had done something she hadn’t.

And the truth had been sitting right there in Ice’s drafts the whole time.

Ice and KK sat there in stunned silence, the weight of what they had just discovered pressing down on them like a brick wall.

Ice finally broke the silence. “We need to tell her.”

KK nodded, but she was still staring at the screen, jaw tight. “She’s been tearing herself apart over this, Ice. She thinks she actually let that shit happen.”

Ice exhaled sharply. “Lexi’s fucking sick. Paige was out cold, and she—” Ice cut herself off, shaking her head. “We need to tell her now.”

KK didn’t argue. She grabbed her phone and stood up. “Come on.”

The two of them left Ice’s room, moving quickly down the hall. KK’s heart pounded in her chest. Paige had been keeping everything bottled up, convinced she had ruined her relationship, and all this time—she never even had a chance.

When they got to Paige’s dorm, Ice didn’t bother knocking. She pushed the door open, and there was Paige, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor. She looked exhausted—like she hadn’t slept in days.

Her head lifted slightly when she saw them, her brows pulling together. “What’s up?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Ice and KK didn’t say anything at first. KK just walked over, sitting next to her, while Ice stayed standing, gripping her phone.

Paige’s expression shifted, picking up on the energy in the room. “What?” she asked again, her voice quieter now.

Ice swallowed, then looked Paige dead in the eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “Lexi drugged you.”

Paige blinked. Her whole body went still. “What?”

KK took a deep breath and held out Ice’s phone. “We have proof, P. It’s on video.”

Paige stared at the phone like it might explode in her hands. Her fingers shook slightly as she reached for it. Ice played the clip, and Paige watched.

She saw herself standing there at the bar, completely unaware. She saw Lexi slide into frame. She saw Lexi’s hand move over her drink.

Paige’s breath hitched.

The room spun.

She had no memory of this.

Her stomach twisted violently, like she might throw up.

“Lexi…” Paige whispered, her voice trembling. She could barely hear herself over the blood rushing in her ears.

KK placed a steadying hand on Paige’s back, her usual playful demeanor gone. “She set you up, P. You didn’t kiss her. You didn’t cheat. She did this to you.”

Paige clenched her jaw, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her breathing was unsteady. Her hands were shaking.

All this time, she had been drowning in guilt. All this time, she had been hating herself.

And the truth had been stolen from her.

She never had a voice in this.

She had been a victim.

Tears welled in Paige’s eyes, but this time, they weren’t just from heartbreak. They were from anger. From betrayal. From the sheer violation of it all.

Lexi had stolen so much from her.

And now, Paige wanted it back.

—----------------

Paige, Ice, and KK stood in front of the police station, the tension heavy in the air. Paige’s heart was pounding as she walked into the station, clutching her phone tightly, the video of Lexi drugging her ready to be shown. This was it—she was going to take action. She was going to make sure Lexi couldn’t hurt her—or Azzi—anymore.

After a few moments, they were ushered into a small office, and Paige nervously took a seat, her hands still trembling. A detective sat across from them, flipping open a notepad, looking up at Paige with a serious expression.

“So, what do we have here?” the detective asked, taking in the scene.

Paige’s voice shook slightly, but she kept her focus. “I was drugged. Someone put something in my drink without me noticing, and I—I need you to look into it. I also need to report… what happened after. I was unconscious, and she kissed me. I—I didn’t consent to it.”

The detective nodded, glancing at Ice and KK for a moment before looking back at Paige. “Okay. Let’s take a look at the video.”

Paige pulled her phone from her pocket, her hands still shaking, and handed it over. The detective played the video, eyes narrowing as they watched the footage of Lexi subtly slipping something into Paige’s drink. Paige felt a wave of relief flood through her—it was evidence. She was being believed.

“This is definitely a clear indication of tampering,” the detective said, pausing the video. “We can follow up on this. It’s enough to open an investigation.”

Paige nodded, finally feeling like the weight was starting to lift. “Good. I—I’m just so tired of feeling like I have no control over this.”

The detective paused for a moment, flipping through their notes. “We’ll look into the drugging part. We’ll need to talk to the bar staff and any potential witnesses, but this gives us a good place to start.”

Paige felt her chest tighten. “But what about… the other part? After I passed out… She kissed me. I didn’t consent to it. Can you do anything about that?”

The detective hesitated, then spoke in a measured tone. “I’m sorry, but without any concrete proof of the kiss or your state at the time, there’s not much we can do about that. The video doesn’t show anything further than the drugging, and no one has corroborated your story.”

Paige’s stomach dropped. Her heart felt like it shattered into pieces.

“So you’re telling me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady but failing, “that I have no proof that she kissed me while I was unconscious?”

The detective nodded, his voice softer now. “Unfortunately, without any physical evidence or witness accounts, there’s nothing we can do legally about that part of the situation. It’s your word against hers.”

Paige’s hands balled into fists, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. The one thing she thought would be enough—enough to prove how messed up everything was—wasn’t.

“You can’t even do anything about the fact that she drugged me? Just because she didn’t touch me the same way?” Paige’s voice broke. She could feel herself spiraling. “I don’t get it. This isn’t okay. This isn’t fair.”

Ice leaned forward, her voice firm but compassionate. “We get it, P. We do. But we can’t let her off the hook just because she’s being sneaky.”

KK added, “We can’t just back down. We’re not gonna let her slide. We’ll find another way to make sure she faces consequences. We will.”

The detective sighed, closing the case file with a resigned look. “We’ll do what we can. But right now, the drugging is the only part we can act on.”

Paige nodded, feeling defeated but still a flicker of hope burning inside her. She wouldn’t let Lexi win. She couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Paige whispered, feeling the weight of the conversation and the long road ahead. “Please, just… do whatever you can. Make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

The detective nodded, looking sympathetic but helpless. “We’ll be in touch.”

As Paige stood up, she glanced at Ice and KK, their faces full of determination. “This isn’t over. I won’t let it be.”

Ice and KK nodded, walking with her out of the station. Paige knew the fight wasn’t over. Lexi might have escaped the law for now, but Paige would make sure she faced the consequences, one way or another. She wasn’t going to give up—not on herself, and definitely not on Azzi.

—----------------

Paige, Ice, and KK sat on a bench outside, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over campus. They were all still processing the visit to the police station, the weight of everything starting to sink in. It felt like a lot had happened in such a short time, and it was hard to believe that it was all because of one person—Lexi.

Paige let out a long breath, her hands resting in her lap as she stared down at the ground. “I still can’t believe that’s all they could do. I thought for sure they’d take me seriously about what happened… but now it feels like I’m the one who has to do everything.”

KK and Ice exchanged glances, both trying to comfort her, but they were also feeling the same frustration. Ice reached over, placing a hand on Paige’s shoulder. “We’ll find a way. You’re not in this alone.”

“I know, but it just… sucks, you know?” Paige’s voice cracked as she looked up at her friends. “I don’t even know how to make it right with Azzi after everything. I didn’t do any of this, but I feel like I ruined everything.”

KK frowned, glancing around the campus. “Hey, look. We’ll figure it out. But you can’t carry all of this alone, okay?”

Before Paige could respond, she saw a girl walking toward them, her eyes locked on Paige. She was around their age, wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, but it was the expression on her face that caught Paige’s attention. The girl looked like she had something important to say.

“Oh my God, I’ve been looking all over for you!” The girl’s voice was a mix of excitement and nervousness, and she approached Paige hesitantly.

Paige furrowed her brow, the familiarity of the situation hitting her. She recognized the girl now. “Wait… you’re the one who was in the bathroom at Ted’s that night. The one who left her phone in the stall.”

The girl’s face brightened as she nodded. “Yeah! I’m Serena. I saw everything that night. I’ve been trying to track you down ever since. I… I didn’t want you to think I was just some random bystander, but I saw what happened with you and that girl, and I think you need to know what I got on my phone.”

Paige’s stomach dropped at the mention of Lexi. “You saw… everything?”

Serena hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to Paige, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I did. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I was suspicious. When I walked into the bathroom and saw you passed out, I noticed that girl—you know, the one who was with you. She was right next to you, and I was just… something about her didn’t sit right with me.”

Paige stiffened, knowing exactly who Serena was talking about.

“So,” Serena continued, “I made sure I set my phone up on the bathroom stall door so it could capture whatever was going on. I had it pointed in the right direction, and when I opened the door and left, I made sure it kept recording.”

Paige blinked in shock. “You were recording me without me knowing?”

Serena nodded. “I know it’s weird, but I didn’t want to just let this go. I watched the footage later, and I saw that girl—Lexi—was kissing you while you were out cold. I don’t know her, but I saw it all. She took a picture of you two kissing too, and then when you woke up, she started acting like nothing happened.”

Paige’s heart started racing as she absorbed what Serena was saying. She had always known there was something off about that night, something in the back of her mind telling her that what she remembered wasn’t all of it. And now Serena had the evidence—the video.

“I knew it,” Paige whispered, her hands trembling. “I knew she kissed me while I was unconscious, but I couldn’t prove it. This—this video…” She couldn’t believe it was real. The weight of everything, the feeling of helplessness, finally started to lift as she realized she wasn’t alone in this.

Serena unlocked her phone and airdropped the video to Paige. “I just wanted to make sure you had this. You deserve to know what happened, especially if it’s going to help you get justice.”

Paige watched the video, her heart sinking as she saw Lexi leaning in and kissing her while she was unconscious, unable to do anything to stop it. She could feel the anger rise in her chest. The way Lexi had manipulated everything—it made her sick.

After the video ended, Serena gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I thought you should know. And if you ever need anything, I’m here. I’m not going to let her get away with it either.”

Paige nodded, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t know what to say—she was overwhelmed, exhausted, and still trying to piece everything together. But one thing was for sure: she wasn’t going to let Lexi get away with what she’d done.

“Thank you,” Paige finally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Serena nodded, standing up to leave. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

As Serena walked away, Paige sat in silence, the video still fresh on her mind. She wasn’t going to let this slide. This was just the beginning.

Paige, Ice, and KK sat in silence for a few moments, each of them processing everything that had just unfolded. The weight of Serena’s words lingered in the air as Paige held her phone in her hand, the video playing over and over in her mind. Her pulse was still racing from the shock of seeing it all again.

Ice was the first to speak, her voice quiet but firm. “This is huge, Paige. I’m glad you’ve got the video now. But what’s next?”

Paige wiped her eyes, her hands still shaking slightly. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to do with this.” She looked down at the phone in her hand, the evidence staring back at her. “I can’t just let this go. This is… this is messed up.”

KK nodded, her expression serious. “You’re right. You need to take this back to the police. You’ve got proof now, and they have to listen.”

Paige took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not letting her get away with this.”

The three of them stood up, and as they walked back to the police station, the reality of the situation started to settle in. Paige’s mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spiraling as she tried to figure out what this all meant for her, for Azzi, for everything. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she couldn’t just let Lexi’s actions go unpunished.

By the time they arrived at the station, it was nearing late afternoon. The police officers who had initially spoken to Paige greeted them, and the group followed them to a small meeting room. After a quick introduction, Paige handed over her phone, her fingers brushing over the screen as she handed over the damning video.

“We need to make sure this is seen by the right people,” Paige said, her voice steady, though there was a slight tremor underneath.

The officer nodded, watching the video carefully. “We’ve been looking into the situation more closely. We actually got in touch with the staff at Ted’s and got some more details. Looks like Lexi, the girl you mentioned, has been flagged by them before. She’s got a bit of a reputation for making trouble.”

Paige’s heart sank at the mention of Lexi’s name. “You knew about her?”

The officer gave a nod. “Not all the details, but yeah. We’ve heard rumors, and it looks like your situation is part of a pattern. We’re working on getting more concrete evidence. This video definitely helps.”

Paige let out a slow breath, the pressure on her chest easing slightly. “So, you’re saying… this might actually go somewhere?”

“We’re working on it,” the officer said. “We’re reaching out to some of the people involved and pulling more footage from the night. We’ll also be contacting Lexi soon, and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Good,” Paige said, feeling a surge of determination. “She’s not going to get away with this.”

Ice and KK stood behind her, their support unwavering. They had seen the weight of the situation settle in on Paige, but now they could see the fire burning in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let this end with a dead-end. They would get justice.

After a few more questions, the officer turned to them. “We’ll be in touch, Paige. You’ve done the right thing by bringing this to us. We’re taking this seriously.”

Paige nodded, relief and anger still mixing in her chest. “Thanks. I just want to make sure no one else has to go through this.”

Once they left the station, Paige felt a slight shift within herself. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, but she finally felt like she was doing something about it. Lexi wasn’t going to get away with her manipulations. And as she walked back with Ice and KK, she knew she wasn’t alone in this fight.

—----------------

Paige, Ice, and KK walked back to their dorm in silence, the weight of everything still pressing heavily on Paige’s chest. She kept thinking back to the conversation at the police station, her fingers itching to reach out to Azzi, but she knew that wasn’t the right move yet. Not when things were still so raw between them.

Once they were back in her room, Paige sat on her bed, pulling out her phone. Her hand hovered over Caroline’s name in her contacts, a wave of hesitation washing over her. Caroline had been pissed at her before, but this time, Paige had to make her understand.

She typed the message, taking a deep breath before pressing send.

Paige: Hey, Caroline. I know things have been rough, and I get why you’ve been shutting me out, but I really need you to listen to me. I owe you an explanation.

The response came quickly, but Caroline’s tone was firm.

Caroline: I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it, Paige. Azzi’s been through enough because of you, and I really don’t think this is something you need to be getting into right now.

Paige’s stomach twisted at the message. She’d expected this, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her.

Paige: Please, just give me a chance to explain. You know I’d never hurt Azzi on purpose. This thing with Lexi—it’s not what you think. It’s a lot worse than you know.

She waited a few moments, watching the three dots appear and disappear as Caroline typed.

Caroline: Fine. But this better be good, Paige. Azzi’s been heartbroken over this for days.

Paige quickly attached the video Serena had sent her and typed the message. Her hands were shaking, but she had to get this out.

Paige: I just got this today. It’s from that night at Ted’s. Lexi drugged me, and she used my phone to message Azzi, pretending to be me. She even sent that picture of us kissing while I was unconscious. I’ve already reported it to the police, and it’s under investigation now. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of monster. This is all on Lexi.

She stared at her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She had said it. She had finally said it all. There was no turning back now.

Caroline: Wait… what?

The message came a few seconds later, her disbelief clear through the words.

Caroline: I knew something wasn’t right. But I was pissed. I was too pissed about what happened between Azzi and you to think it through properly. I didn’t want to be the one to defend you when Azzi was heartbroken.

Paige’s chest tightened as she read that, the guilt gnawing at her. She understood why Caroline had felt that way, but hearing it out loud still hurt.

Paige: I know. I know, Caroline. And I hate that I made her go through that. But please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt her. I’m doing everything I can to make this right.

Caroline: I just— I don’t even know what to say, Paige. This is a lot.

Paige sank back onto her bed, taking a deep breath. She had to get through to Caroline, she had to.

Paige: I know it’s a lot. I just need you to understand that I was never trying to do anything wrong. I thought I was protecting her, and I failed. But I’m not giving up on her, and I’m not giving up on us.

The message sat there for a long moment before Caroline replied.

Caroline: I’ll talk to Azzi. But you better hope this investigation leads somewhere because she doesn’t deserve to go through all this.

Paige felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she read Caroline’s words. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but at least she had an opening now. A small one, but enough to build on.

Paige: Thank you. Just… please let her know the truth when you can. I just want to make this right.

Caroline: I will. Just don’t make this worse, Paige.

Paige set her phone down, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She knew this wasn’t over. Far from it. But she’d taken a step. Maybe it was a small one, but it was a start.

As she sat there, Ice and KK glanced at her from across the room, both of them giving her small, reassuring smiles. She didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had a chance at making things right.

—----------------

Caroline paced nervously outside of Azzi’s dorm, her fingers tightening around her phone as she held it in her hands. She had told Paige she would talk to Azzi, but she wasn’t sure how this conversation would go. Azzi had been hurt by Paige, and the last thing Caroline wanted was to make things worse. But, after everything she had seen, she knew the truth needed to come out.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline knocked on Azzi’s door. She heard a faint voice from inside, and with a hesitant nod, she pushed the door open. Azzi was sitting on her bed, a blanket wrapped around her, her eyes red from crying earlier that day.

Azzi looked up, her expression hardening as she saw Caroline. “What’s this about, Caroline? I told you before, I don’t want to talk about Paige right now.”

Caroline took a few steps into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes softening as she looked at Azzi. She had never wanted to be the one to get in the middle of their mess, but this was bigger than anything she could ignore.

“I know, Azzi. I know you don’t want to hear from her. But I think you deserve the truth,” Caroline said, her voice firm but gentle.

Azzi’s brows furrowed, confused. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Caroline hesitated, then pulled out her phone. “Paige reached out to me. She explained what happened, and I didn’t believe her at first. But then… She sent me something. Proof. Proof that what happened with Lexi wasn’t what we thought.”

Azzi looked at Caroline skeptically. “Proof of what?”

Caroline swiped through her phone and opened the first video. She held it up for Azzi to see, her heart racing. “This is from the night at Ted’s. It’s the moment when Lexi slipped something into Paige’s drink while she was distracted.”

Azzi stared at the screen, her eyes narrowing as she watched the video. She saw Paige, laughing and talking with someone else, unaware of Lexi standing beside her, covertly putting something into her drink. Azzi could feel her stomach twist, but she stayed silent.

Caroline swiped to the next video, her finger shaking slightly as she clicked on it. “And this… This is the part where Lexi kissed Paige while she was unconscious in the bathroom.”

Azzi watched in silence, her lips parted as she saw Lexi leaning down over Paige, who was unconscious in the stall. Lexi kissed her, taking a moment to snap a picture before Paige stirred and pushed her away, visibly confused and disoriented. Azzi could see the tension in Paige’s movements, the way she was fighting to shake off the fog, the way Lexi tried to act like nothing had happened.

Then, Paige’s voice, shaky but strong, rang out in the video, pushing Lexi away. “Why the fuck are you kissing me while I was out? Are you crazy? I’m in a happy relationship right now.”

Lexi, her expression unbothered, smirked. “Well, not anymore,” she said, her words dripping with malice.

Caroline watched as Azzi’s face shifted, her jaw tightening in anger. Azzi’s eyes were glued to the screen, her brows drawn together in disbelief. Caroline couldn’t blame her. Seeing it all play out like this, it was hard to process.

“Do you see it now?” Caroline asked quietly, her voice softer. “Lexi was the one manipulating everything. Not Paige.”

Azzi turned her gaze to Caroline, her face pale. She was quiet for a long time, as if trying to absorb everything. Her emotions were all over the place — hurt, confusion, betrayal.

“I don’t know what to think,” Azzi murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I just… I can’t believe it. I— I don’t know how to feel about it. I should've given her the chance to speak to me but I didn't.”

Caroline reached over and put a hand on Azzi’s shoulder, trying to comfort her. “I get it, Azzi. I really do. Lexi manipulated everything, and she’s the one who needs to be held accountable. Not Paige.”

Azzi shook her head slightly. “I don’t know if I can fully process this straight away. It's gonna take some time. ”

Caroline sighed, understanding the depth of Azzi’s pain. “I know this is a lot. I don’t expect you to process this whole thing right away. But you deserve the truth, Azzi. And now you have it.”

Azzi’s eyes were distant as she stared at her phone, her mind clearly racing. “I need some time. I just… I need time to think about all of this, it's all just new.”

Caroline nodded, standing up and walking toward the door. “I understand. But just remember, don't stress yourself too much because of how you handled it.”

As she left the room, Caroline glanced back at Azzi, who was still sitting on the bed, staring at her phone, the weight of everything settling in.

Outside the door, Caroline’s heart was heavy, but she knew that the truth was out there now. She could only hope that Azzi would come to see that Paige hadn’t been the one who had hurt her.

Azzi sat on her bed, her phone still in her hands, but now everything felt different. The video Caroline had shown her kept replaying in her mind. The look of shock on Paige’s face when she woke up, the way she pushed Lexi away, the argument that followed—it all started to make sense in a way that Azzi hadn’t fully understood before.

But even with the truth laid out before her, Azzi was still struggling. She couldn’t just flip a switch and go back to how things were with Paige. There was too much hurt. But now that she knew what happened with Lexi, it felt wrong to hold onto the anger. It felt like she was holding onto something that wasn’t real anymore.

Azzi took a deep breath, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on Paige’s name. Her finger hovered over the “unblock” option, and for a moment, she just stared at it, her chest tightening. Was she ready to hear from Paige again? Did she want to hear from her?

She thought about the last few days—how she’d kept her distance from Paige, how much she had cried, how much she had wanted answers, even when she wasn’t sure how to get them. Paige had been blocked, shut out from her life, but Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this story. And maybe—just maybe—she needed to hear it from Paige herself.

Azzi tapped the screen, unblocking Paige’s number. It felt like a heavy weight was lifted, but it also felt like she was stepping into unknown territory. Her emotions were still raw, but she knew it was a step toward healing, even if it wasn’t one she was ready to take just yet.

She didn’t message Paige. She couldn’t. Not yet.

Azzi lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind swirling with all the things she still needed to process. She wasn’t sure if she would ever fully heal from what had happened between her and Paige as it has emotionally wrecked her.

This was going to take time.

But unblocking Paige was a start. It was a sign that, maybe, just maybe, she was open to talking again when the time was right. The healing process couldn’t begin without some form of connection, and as much as Azzi hated to admit it, that connection had to come from both sides.

She closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. “It’s going to take a while,” she whispered to herself, her heart heavy. But for the first time in days, she felt like there was a possibility of moving forward, even if that meant taking baby steps.

For now, that was enough.

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

[doriku]

riize as high school boyfriends pls jsjssjjss 😭 i need this level of delulu rn

-🩰

﹙𖹭﹚ ── 𝖱𝖨𝖨𝖹𝖤 𝖠𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖧𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖲𝖢𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖫 𝖡𝖮𝖸𝖥𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖭𝖣

ㅤㅤ𝑐𝑤.ㅤ[ fluff fluff, errr kissing cs they love ya .ᐟ ]

⠀͙ࣳ #𓂃 𝗆𝗐𝖾𝗈𝗂 ⁝ 𝑟𝑖𝑟𝑖 speaks . . aaa 🩰 anon !! this is sooo cute :[

SHOTARO

shotaro is the definition of a warm hug personified. he's that boyfriend who waits outside your class every day with a snack and a smile that makes your chest physically ache. always a little breathless from rushing, always brushing his fringe out of his eyes, grinning like he just won a prize when he sees you. he’s not the loudest or the flashiest, but he’s consistently sweet in ways that stick :D he sends you videos of puppies in the middle of the night. keeps every note you’ve ever passed him, even the dumb ones about lunch. he likes to hold your pinky instead of your hand when he’s shy. but when he’s feeling confident? arm around your shoulder, soft kisses on your temple, whispering, “you’re my favorite part of the day.”

he doesn’t care if you’re barefaced or late or ranting about group projects. he listens like everything you say matters. and when you vent about school stress, he doesn’t try to fix it — he just holds your hand tighter, kisses your knuckles, and says, “let’s skip school and become professional huggers. we’d make bank.” and on rainy days, he’ll show up at your door in a hoodie that’s too big, soaked sneakers squeaking, holding bubble tea in one hand and his playlist in the other. “movie day?” he asks, already kicking off his shoes. you let him in, of course. you always do.

he hums along to the movie soundtrack, sings softly under his breath until you fall asleep on his lap. and when your parents ask if he wants dinner, he answers with, “only if I get to stay a little longer.” and you swear you see your mom smile knowingly.

EUNSEOK

your elegant, unreadable boyfriend who makes heart eyes at you when you’re not looking and always smells like clean laundry !! dating eunseok is like having a secret — something private and precious and safe. he’s calm, composed, soft-spoken in class, but the second you’re alone? the teasing comes out. the subtle smiles. the way he brushes your hair back and murmurs, “you look tired. wanna nap on me?” : ( he remembers everything. the day you got your braces off. your coffee order. the name of the kid who made you cry in middle school. you never told him that one — he just knew.

he doesn’t flirt the traditional way. instead, he buys you those little fruit jellies you like. offers you his jacket before you ask. calls you “mine” in a whisper only you can hear. he’ll lean down in the hallway and go, “your collar’s crooked,” before fixing it, then winking like he definitely did that on purpose. his texts are rare but always thoughtful. a candid photo of the sky with “made me think of you.” a screenshot of an inside joke. a selfie with a sleepy smile and the caption, “missed you today.”

and when he kisses you, it's like everything around you stills. hands gentle on your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours as he breathes, “you make everything quieter.”

WONBIN

wonbin is the boy you shouldn’t fall for — the one who's too pretty for his own good, always leaning back in his chair with a lopsided smile and a pencil tucked behind his ear. but then he tugs your sleeve during lunch and says, “come hear something I wrote,” and suddenly, it’s over for you. he doesn’t talk much in class, but when it’s just the two of you ??? he’s hilarious. deadpan jokes, soft teasing, the kind of humor that makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. he acts all chill, but you catch him staring sometimes — eyes soft, mouth twitching like he’s memorizing your smile.

his love language is presence. he doesn’t text all day, but he shows up when it matters ! outside your cram school with snacks, at your club showcase with flowers he picked himself. and when he walks you home, he carries your bag and lets his fingers brush yours until you're brave enough to lace them together.in the music room, he lets you sit beside him while he plays guitar, humming under his breath until the melody turns into a love song just for you. and when you joke that he probably plays that for everyone, he just looks at you and says, “only you.”

he’s the type to act unfazed but blushes when you kiss his cheek. and if you fall asleep on his shoulder during study group ? he’ll sit there like a statue, too scared to move, staring down at you like you hung the stars. and when you ask what he’s thinking, he shrugs and goes, “just.. lucky I met you.”

SUNGCHAN

sungchan is that kind of boyfriend who’s everyone’s favorite but only cares about impressing you. he's popular without trying — tall, loud-laughing, always tossing a basketball or joking with teachers — but when you’re near ?? tunnel vision. everything else blurs. he flirts constantly. sends you dumb pick-up lines during class. dramatically offers his jacket when it’s mildly chilly. leans against your locker like he’s in a drama and says, “miss me?” even if he saw you five minutes ago.

he’s clingy but charming about it. will literally throw a fake tantrum if you forget to text him good morning. texts things like, “u like me right? say it or i’ll cry fr” and when you do say it, he replies with ten heart emojis and a selfie of him blowing a kiss. you’ll be walking home, his hand swinging in yours, and he’ll suddenly stop and go, “do you think we’ll still be together after high school?” and when you say, “yeah?” he beams so big you swear your heart skips.

he calls your parents sir and ma’am. helps your siblings with their homework. is unreasonably good with kids. but then he turns to you and whispers something stupid like, “you’re so hot when you’re mad at math.” and now you’re flustered and failing geometry.

he always makes you feel like you're the main character in a high school romcom. he’d dance with you in an empty classroom just because your favorite song came on. and when he kisses you ?!? he grins halfway through, because he's just that happy to be yours.

SEUNGHAN

seunghan is the boy who everyone thinks is a little mysterious, a little too cool, a little unreadable .. but the second you start dating him he’s a mess. a soft, lovesick, chaos-tinted mess. he’ll pretend to be unbothered in public, but the second you’re alone he’s flopping onto your lap like, “you didn’t text me for two hours. I almost perished.”

he’s sharp-witted, a little sarcastic, always teasing you like it’s his job. says stuff like, “you’re so annoying. i’m obsessed with you.” he’ll flick your forehead for stealing his fries but then feed you one himself. calls you a menace but refuses to walk to class without you.

he’s clingy in lowkey ways. his hand is always on you, your wrist, your sleeve, your pinky hooked with his. he’ll act like you’re the one who can’t live without him, but then he texts “come outside” at midnight just so he can see you for five minutes. and when you do ? he pulls you into the softest hug and mumbles, “okaaay. I can sleep now.”

his locker has little things of yours, your hair clip, a folded doodle you gave him, the bracelet you thought he lost. he keeps everything. never admits it. just goes “don’t look in there” and blushes if you catch him.

when he gets jealous, he tries to be chill but ends up weirdly petty. you’ll laugh at another guy’s joke and suddenly seunghan’s like, “wow. he’s hilarious. maybe he should be your boyfriend.” and you’re like, “are you twelve??” and he’s just crossing his arms, waiting for you to kiss his pout away.

but deep down ? he’s so soft for you. sends voice notes when he misses you. stares at you like he’s memorizing your whole face. and when you catch him doing it, he just shrugs and says, “you’re my favorite view.”

and if you ever say, “I don’t feel like myself today,” he’ll pull you into his arms and whisper, “you’re still my person. even on your worst day.”

SOHEE

sohee is your surprise boyfriend. the one who doesn’t talk much in class but texts you entire paragraphs at 1 a.m. he’s lowkey, mysterious, the type to keep his hoodie over his head during lectures — yet somehow, he always knows when you're upset. he doesn’t do PDA often, but when he does, IT’S LETHAL. slipping his pinky through yours during assemblies. tugging your sleeve when he wants your attention. standing too close in the hallway so his arm brushes yours with every step.

he sends you songs that feel like how he looks at you. doesn’t say much with his mouth, but his eyes are loud !!! always watching you, always soft. he has this habit of smiling to himself when you talk, like he’s memorizing everything. he’ll walk you home after cram school, not saying a word, just sharing his playlist. and when you reach your house, he pauses, takes off his headphones, puts one in your ear, and says, “wait, listen to this part. it’s you.”

and when he kisses you — finally, shyly — it’s behind the library, hands in his pockets, lips gentle and unsure, followed by a mumbled, “i’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

he acts cool, but his search history is full of “cute nicknames for gf” and “how to kiss without being awkward.” you catch him once, and he turns red to the tips of his ears. “don’t look at my tabs,” he groans. “I was being efficient.”

ANTON

anton is the soft-spoken boy who everyone thinks is shy, until they see him with you. around others, he’s all hushed tones and awkward nods, but when it’s just you ? the warmth comes out. the boy who rambles about his favorite bands. who laughs so hard he hiccups. who always, always reaches for your hand first. he’s reliable in a way that feels rare. he walks you to class every morning, even if it makes him late. carries your bag without asking. has your favorite snack memorized and stocked in his locker “just in case you’re having a bad day.”

he sends you the best playlists — slow songs, comfort songs, songs that sound like laying in bed and talking about everything and nothing. and when he sends you one at 2AM with a message like "this one feels like us," you feel it in your chest. when you’re upset, he doesn’t pry. he just sits next to you, shoulder to shoulder, until you’re ready. and when you are, he pulls you close, presses a soft kiss to your hair, and says, “whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

he’s the type to keep a photo of you in his wallet. to doodle your name in the margins of his notebook. to tell his mom about you over dinner. not in a big flashy way, just in the way that says you’re part of his life now, like it’s the most natural thing.

and when you look at him like he hung the moon, he blushes hard and mutters, “stop looking at me like that, I might combust.” but he doesn't look away :c

[afurtivecake]

yes cs pacat writes some absolute bangers full of intrigue and scheming and heart-ache and a ludicrous amount of sexual tension, but the best thing about them, to my mind, is the comedy. like yes, these books get pretty dark and serious, but also, here's a ridiculously cooperative cloth merchant and here's a silly regency dandy in case you thought things were getting too serious.

[ddejavvu]

HI MEIII gnawing anon again (I feel like i might need an emoji soon CS gnawing anon is a lil silly sounding 😭) n e wayyy I have another request for you! Flynn rider w a really spoiled gf who (as much as he complains abt it) always gets what she wants from him.

Alsoo i don’t really send requests/asks too often, so if my etiquette is a bit off I sincerely apologize!

this spoke to me anon i love him. i used flynn instead of eugene because that's what you said in your request <3

"You wanted me to stop stealing." Flynn reminds you, ever-so-slightly tugging on your arm to get you to move away from the window of the shop you're enamored by.

"Hm?" You're peering intently through the dusty windows, watching the shopkeeper's hands flick back and forth with every miniscule movement of her knitting needles. Her work is truly awe-inspiring, and you can't imagine the hours she spends poring over each garment.

"One of those shawls would cost us a horse." Flynn reasons, and Maximus snorts from beside him, wholly unimpressed with the idea of being used as a bartering chip, "And we were going to use our money to restock our apple supply."

You're running dangerously low on the horse's favorite snack. He's truly insufferable when he's deprived, and you weigh your options, heart aching when you look away from the knitting in the window.

Flynn and Maximus try leading you away in sync, one motivated by apples and the other by the desire to remain intact through the night without horseshoe-shaped bruises littering his skin. You succumb to the weight of both of their gazes, but you cast one last longing look towards the store to find the woman inside staring right back at you.

Or rather, staring at Flynn.

You stop in your tracks, and both of your companions huff and puff about the minimal ground you'd covered. But a smirk forms on your lips, one that usually decorates Flynn's own face.

"Flynn," You croon, a tone that always results in something embarrassing, physically demanding, or frustrating for the man. He braces for impact, brows furrowing as he waits for you to drop the bomb.

"She likes you." You laugh, a wicked sound, "It's not stealing if she- say, gives something to you. Then it's good hospitality. It's accepting a gift. And I bet if you sweet talked her a little, she'd part with the green shawl in the corner for fifty percent off."

"That's dirty." Flynn scoffs, "Cheating a little old lady out of her craft?"

"She's staring at your butt." You raise a brow towards Flynn, "And she marks up the prices by double whenever tourists come by. She's practically a scam artist."

"Fine. I'll flirt." Flynn acquiesces with a sigh, squeezing your hips, "But this is the last time I'm schmoozing a little old lady for your own personal gain. I know I said that last time, but I mean it. No more senior citizens."

"Just go get me that shawl." You grin, your hands slipping down to rest idly against Flynn's trousers before you dig your nails in for a squeeze that makes him yelp, "And don't forget to work the ass, Flynn."

[wholoveseggs]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do an Elijah x reader with period sex😭 i can’t find one and i really wanna read something about Elijah during that time of the month🙏

Bloodier Bath

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Aunt Flo comes to visit and the noble Elijah once again stands up to the bitch.

♡♡ Thank you for the request sweet anon! The first fic I ever wrote was Bloodbath & it has a special place in my heart! It's what inspired me to start writing in the first place! This is obviously a vampires favorite thing to do... and it's crazy there isn't more fics on it!!! ♡♡

2.7k words - Warnings: smuttt, oral sex, period sex, so much fluff, Elijah being sweet and caring...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer

You woke up feeling like shit, a dull ache radiating throughout your body. You knew exactly what it was, but actually moving from the comfort of the bed to confirm was a different story.

A quiet groan escaped you, the mere thought of the day ahead exhausting. You could feel the pain of the cramps radiating through you, the feeling of the sheets and clothes on your skin uncomfortable and irritating.

Your boyfriend stirred next to you, his warm hands reaching out and pulling you into him. Elijah let out a yawn, and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

"Morning," he said softly.

"Morning," you replied, snuggling against him.

You wanted to stay close, but you felt too warm and uncomfortable. With a heavy sigh, you untangled yourself from his arms, rolling out of bed and going to the bathroom.

You turned the shower on, stepping under the warm spray and letting the water soothe you. The steam from the shower filled the air, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the relaxing sensation.

When the water turned cold, you reluctantly got out and dried off. You wrapped a towel around your body, and as you walked out of the bathroom, you saw a tray waiting on the bed. Elijah had gotten up and made breakfast, complete with a fresh cup of coffee and a heating pad.

He was propping up the pillows for you, arranging them just right so you could lay back comfortably. He flashed a small, knowing smile as he noticed you in the doorway, watching him.

"Thought you could use a little pampering this morning," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours.

"What I need is for you to kindly rip out my ovaries," you grumbled, the cramps making you extra moody.

"How about I start with the heating pad?" He offered, motioning for you to join him on the bed.

"Thank you," you said, walking over and climbing onto the bed. He helped you get comfortable, placing the heating pad on your stomach and wrapping a blanket around you.

You picked up the mug of coffee and took a deep sip, groaning softly as the warm liquid slid down your throat. "This is perfect, Lijah, thank you," you said, setting the mug back down on the nightstand.

"Are you going to work today?" He asked, gently stroking your hair.

You let out a sigh, not really wanting to face the day. "Probably not, I feel too miserable," you said, resting your head on his chest.

"Take the day off, relax, and do whatever makes you feel better," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I can't do nothing," you protested.

"Yes, you can," he countered, a stern look on his face. "And you will, if I have to tie you down to keep you here."

You laughed softly, knowing that he would actually do it. "Ok, fine," you said, settling into his embrace.

He was so sweet and considerate, taking care of you. His gentle nature and soft words made the pain subside, and you relaxed, closing your eyes and letting the warmth wash over you.

You spent the day in bed, watching movies and talking, enjoying each other's company. He was always so attentive and thoughtful, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed.

As the day drew to a close, you started to feel better, the pain fading and your mood changing. You wanted to reward Elijah for being so sweet and supportive, and you had the perfect idea.

You reached over and cupped his cheek, turning his head so he was looking at you. "Thank you for taking such good care of me today," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Of course, I'm happy to do it," he said, brushing a stray hair from your face.

"I want to make it up to you," you murmured, giving him a suggestive look.

He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "Oh? And how would you do that?" He asked, playing along.

"I have a few ideas," you said, sliding your hand down his chest and between his legs, rubbing him through his pants.

You watched as his pupils dilated, his arousal growing. "Is that so?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave.

"Mmhm," you hummed, leaning in and kissing him deeply. He returned the kiss, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer.

You broke the kiss and moved lower, kissing along his jaw and neck, biting his earlobe gently. He groaned, his grip tightening on you.

You smirked, loving the way he reacted to your touch. All you wanted to do was show him just how grateful you were, and you knew just the way to do it.

You loved how he looked when he was turned on, his normally calm and collected demeanor replaced by one of lust and need. You kissed your way down his chest, pausing at his waistband.

But to your surprise, he stopped you, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up. You sat up, pouting a little, wondering what you did wrong.

In one sudden, swift move, he grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, hovering over you.

"As much as I appreciate the thought, that's not exactly what I want," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Oh?" You asked, arching a brow. "And what is it that you want, then?"

He smiled, his eyes roaming over your body, then he leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and insistent. You returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

As he kissed you, his hand moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up. His fingertips brushed against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

"Oh, I see," you giggled, the realization dawning on you. "You like me when I'm messy and bloody, don't you?"

He chuckled, a low sound that sent heat straight to your core. "Don't make me admit it out loud," he teased, nipping at your neck.

You smiled, tilting your head to the side, giving him better access. "Admit what? That you like fucking me when I'm on my period? Such a filthy vampire... " You taunted, running your hands through his hair.

Elijah growled, his hands tightening on your hips. "Keep talking like that, and I'll show you exactly what I want," he threatened, his voice rough with desire.

You couldn't help but laugh, loving how he could go from soft and caring to dangerous and possessive. "Oh, I'm counting on it," you said, tugging his hair.

His dark eyes flashed, and he surged forward, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss. He didn't waste any time, his hands moving to your underwear, pulling them down and tossing them aside.

"Eli- I was kidding... I'm gross right now... " You protested, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"Not to me," he replied, kissing his way down your body. He paused at your lower belly, looking up at you with a smirk.

His vampire nature, usually hidden so well, was peeking through. His eyes had turned completely black, with dark veins under his eyes, his fangs visible behind his parted lips.

You couldn't help but shiver at the sight, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. "Elijah... " You breathed, not entirely sure what to say.

He gave you one last look, then dipped his head down, his tongue darting out and swiping over your folds.

You gasped, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through you. Elijah's tongue was skilled, knowing just where to lick and suck, his hands gripping your thighs. You were already so sensitive, and his actions sent sparks through you.

Elijah worked his tongue inside of you, lapping up your blood and juices, drinking every drop. It was messy, and there was a small puddle of blood on the sheets, but neither of you cared.

Your body tensed and the cramps returned, but in a different way, because you knew once he was done, they'd be gone for a while. Your moans grew louder as the pleasure built, and your legs began to shake.

He hummed happily, his mouth and nose pressed against your center. He was in complete bliss, having his cake and eating it too. There was truly nowhere else he would rather be.

The feeling was amazing, and you couldn't hold back anymore. Your orgasm hit you, and your back arched off the bed, a string of curse words escaping you.

He groaned as you came, your taste flooding his mouth. He was relentless, keeping his pace and holding you down as you writhed beneath him.

Finally, the aftershocks faded, and you slumped back against the pillows, panting heavily. Elijah placed a few kisses on your inner thighs before sitting up, licking his lips.

His face was covered in blood, he looked utterly insane and you burst out laughing at the sight. Your perfectly composed, always clean and tidy boyfriend was now a bloody mess.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you held up your hand, stopping him. "Nooooooo," you squealed, unable to stop laughing.

He smiled, his teeth bloody too, and it sent you into another fit of giggles. He joined in, the two of you laughing like children.

You had never seen him look so wild, so free. He was normally so careful and precise, and seeing him so messy and uninhibited was a huge turn-on.

"Hold on," he said, disappearing into the bathroom.

He returned with a clean face, but his shirt was still covered in blood. He crawled back onto the bed, hovering over you, his eyes raking over your body.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You rolled your eyes, not exactly agreeing when you were in this state. "Thank you, but I'm not," you protested, shifting uncomfortably.

"Yes, you are," he insisted, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to your thighs. "And if you won't believe me, then let me show you."

You couldn't deny him, and you relaxed, letting him take control. His hands gripped your thighs, parting them so he could settle between them. His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and full of love.

"Ready for more?" He asked, his lips ghosting over yours.

You nodded, a quiet moan escaping you as he eased into you. He moved slowly, knowing how sensitive you were in this state. It was a new kind of pleasure, a slow burn instead of the usual fiery explosion. He took his time, savoring every moment, committing every detail to memory.

He rocked his hips, the pace steady and deep, his lips finding yours. The kiss was soft and slow, matching the rhythm of his movements. The feeling was incredible, and the cramps had completely faded, your body fully relaxed.

"Lijah... " You whispered, your nails digging into his chest.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting your skin.

He groaned as he picked up his pace, thrusting deeper and harder. The sounds he was making were so delicious, and you pulled his hair, wanting him to moan more, loving how he was coming undone. His self-control was slipping, and he was losing himself in the pleasure.

"You get so fucking hot when you're like this," you purred, watching the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

He laughed, his breath warm against your neck. "Like what?" He asked, his voice muffled.

"When you're on the verge of losing it," you said, tangling your fingers in his hair. "It's sexy as hell.” 

He chuckled, lifting his head to look at you. "And you're so damn gorgeous when you're bloody and sweaty," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You laughed, the sound fading into a moan as he hit that sweet spot. Your head fell back against the pillow, and his hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it to the bed.

The pace quickened, and you both knew it wouldn't last much longer. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the smell of blood and sex, and it was all too much.

He kissed you deeply, the taste of iron still on his lips. His hands squeezed your hips, pulling you into each thrust. You couldn't take it anymore, and the tension that had been coiling deep inside of you snapped.

Your nails raked down his chest, your moans lost on his lips as you came. All the pain and tension immediately faded, replaced by pure bliss.

"Fuck... " Elijah growled, burying his face in your neck. His rhythm stuttered, and he came with a low groan, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm.

You were all hot, flushed and sweaty, but it was the most blissful feeling. You felt like you could melt into the sheets and die right there, but then you would miss the look on Elijah's face.

His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted as he caught his breath. His hair messy, his clothes stained with blood, and it was a sight to behold.

"I love you, you know that?" You murmured, cupping his cheek.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your palm. "I love you too," he replied, his voice rough.

You ran your thumb across his bottom lip, and he smiled, his dimples on full display. He was always so handsome, but there was something extra special about him when he was like this.

"You're so cute," you teased, booping his nose.

He scrunched his nose, then playfully bit the tip of your finger. "You're adorable," he countered, his voice soft and sweet.

You smiled, your cheeks growing warm. No matter how long you'd been together, he still had that effect on you.

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arms around you and sitting you up, pulling you into his lap.

You giggled, snuggling against him. He kissed the top of your head, his hands resting on your waist. You sat like that for a while, enjoying the closeness.

You were exhausted and ready to sleep, but the mess had to be cleaned up. You were sticky and soaked, and the sheets were a mess.

"I think it's time for a bath," he suggested, brushing his lips against your neck.

You grinned, leaning back and looking up at him. "Only if you join me," you said, arching a brow.

"It's a deal," he replied, grinning back.

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then he carried you to the bathroom, setting you down on the side of the tub. He turned on the water and peeled his bloody shirt off, tossing it into the trash.

"You really are filthy," you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

"It's not my fault that once a month I'm presented with the perfect opportunity to get a little messy," he retorted, giving you a smug look.

"A little?" You said, looking him up and down.

There was blood covering the bedsheets, his hands, his cock and of course between your legs and down your thighs.

"Alright, maybe a lot messy," he relented, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, watching him test the water, making sure it wasn't too hot. He was so sweet and caring, always looking out for your comfort.

He helped you into the tub, then got in behind you, pulling you against him. You sighed, enjoying the warmth of the water and his body against yours.

"Thank you," you murmured, your eyes closing as you leaned back against his chest.

"For what?" He asked, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"For everything," you said, opening your eyes and tilting your head to look at him.

"So, same time next month?" He teased, smiling down at you.

You laughed, playfully slapping his thigh. "Sure, but this time, let me take care of you," you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

"It's a date," he said, his hand trailing down your body.

The two of you stayed in the tub until the water started to cool, then you cleaned up the room and settled back into bed, snuggled in his arms.

Sure, periods suck, but when you have a man like Elijah, they aren't all bad.

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Chasing Shadows | E I G H T

masterlist | CS Masterlist

Summary: As Wren grapples with revelations about her past and the people she trusted, she must decide whether rebuilding broken bonds is worth the risk—especially when her own life hangs in the balance.

Notes: 

Warnings: emotional distress, trauma processing, mentions of parental loss, panic attack, dissociation, redemption arc, some fluff too

Word Count: 8.4k

previous part

X A D E N

I watch Wrenley spin in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief as she takes in the sight of the fully restored Riorson House. The once-crumbling facade now stands tall and proud, the familiar archways and intricately carved wooden doors gleaming in the afternoon light. Vines that once choked the walls have been painstakingly trimmed back, revealing the warm, earthy tones of the stone beneath. A gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh paint and newly turned earth, the remnants of construction still lingering in the air.

“Holy shit. How is it… How is it all here?” Wrenley breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the illusion before her.

“We started rebuilding when I returned,” I reply, feeling a mix of pride and trepidation as her gaze shifts toward me, searching for answers. “I never told you because I wanted to surprise you after you graduated.” I know that sharing one more secret might push her too far, yet the weight of the most difficult truth presses heavily on my chest. 

“He’s been very specific about every little detail just for you.” 

Fuck. Me. Does Harlow ever listen? 

Wrenley freezes in place, her breath hitching as she turns to the figure that now stands beside me, his presence commanding and warm. 

“Hey Little Bird.” 

“Oh shit.” Bodhi gasps, his eyes darting between us.

“Dad?” Her voice breaks, a cocktail of emotions swirling across her face—shock morphing into an exasperated scowl. I can see her mind racing, and I know she’s teetering on the edge of disbelief. “This is a joke. I’m actually going insane.”

I step towards her, my heart aching for her turmoil. “Wren—”

“No!” She snaps, cutting me off with an intensity that takes me aback, halting my steps. “I came to terms with my impending execution because I have no one! My boyfriend—who’s not even my boyfriend anymore—kissed my friend, and then that friend has been trying to get with him for almost a year! My cousin, who was supposed to be my last living relative, has been lying to me for years, along with my best friends! And the last person that I thought had my best interests at heart read my fucking memories and told his dad about my signets!” Her breaths quicken, each word a jagged knife cutting deeper into the growing turmoil within her.

“Signets?” Garrick calls out, his voice echoing the confusion in the air. I mentally facepalm, wishing he would just hold his tongue for a moment. 

“Desa is concerned about the Wise One.” Sgaeyl says through our bond.

Me fucking too.

“Oh yeah! No more secrets, I’m a fucking precog,” Wrenley declares, her voice an explosive mixture of defiance and anguish, as she throws her arms up in the air, her frustration radiating from her like heat waves on a scorching summer day. She turns to face our friends, the surprise on their faces mirroring the chaos roiling inside her. Then, just as swiftly, she pivots back to her father and me, her expression shifting from fury to desperation. “And an inntinnsic like mom! Did you know about that?”

“Wren.” I take another step forward, the distance between us closing, as tears begin to cascade down her cheeks, glistening like tiny diamonds against her flushed skin. She starts to rant, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, barely pausing as she paces back and forth, her movements erratic, each step a testament to the storm brewing within her.

“I saw Liam die twice and still couldn’t save him—” she gasps, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “So I used my powers to let him die with happy memories, and I was fine, but I did it to Jeremish and I stopped breathing for a second.” 

“Wren?” Imogen’s voice is softer, a soothing melody in the cacophony of Wrenley’s turmoil, as she moves closer, her brows furrowed in concern.

“I’ve watched so many people die in a vision and could never save them. But Violet and I lived!” Wren begins to twist her hands together, the nervous tic she’s never had before, a manifestation of her unraveling. “Did you know my mom wasn’t killed in an accident?” A laugh escapes her lips, but it’s tinged with bitterness, her hands moving to tug at the hem of her shirt before returning to clasp tightly together. “Yeah, turns out Aetos intercepted a letter from you,” she says, her gaze darting to Harlow before sinking back to the ground, a weight of betrayal palpable in her voice, “to Fen about the rebellion.”

“Wren, take a breath.” Bodhi’s attempt to anchor her feels futile, the storm within her reaching a breaking point I’m not sure even Brennan could fix.

“They couldn’t easily send you to die, but mom was a rider!” Her laugh morphs, becoming less annoyed and more… maniacal, sending shivers down my spine. “So they sent mom to attack from behind, only the flyers were waiting for her and she’s dead now.” 

“Little Bird.” Harlow reaches for her, desperation etched across his face, as I sense the collective urge from everyone else to comfort her, but I know she’s about to unleash her powers, forcing herself into everyone’s minds.

“Stop!” she screams, both out loud and in the depths of our minds, the force of her emotions sending shockwaves through the air, causing everyone’s feet to stumble in the gravel, rooted in place. “I just—I—I can’t.” And in an instant, she’s gone, bolting away, leaving us in the heavy silence of her absence.

“You didn’t tell her, Riorson?” Harlow’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and seething, a storm brewing behind his eyes. His expression is one of fury, a tempest ready to unleash, and I can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing heavily against my chest.

“I was going to, and you decided to greet her at the door when I told you not to.” I retort, my words laced with venom as a sneer curls at the edges of my mouth. “Even Brennan listened.” My frustration bubbles to the surface, the memory of Harlow’s impulsive choice striking a nerve. 

“Brennan’s currently saving his sister, or would you prefer to die before you can fix things with my daughter?” Harlow’s words crash against me, a wave of guilt crashing over me.

“Sometimes I wish I kept my damn mouth shut at parapet,” I mutter under my breath, the regret heavy on my tongue. The moment I sense my feet freed from their forced roots, I take off, chasing after the only person who matters right now. She may be spiraling, losing pieces of herself in the process, but I made a promise, and I refuse to break another one.

The night air wraps around me as I navigate through the shadows cast by the house, my heart pounding in sync with the urgency of my steps. I find her on the hill behind the house, the familiar rise that I see when I ground. Memories of laughter, dreams, and innocence echo in my mind, taunting me with the stark contrast of the moment at hand.

“Go away, Xaden,” she snaps, her voice cracking under the weight of her tears, shoulders trembling like leaves in a storm. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t.” I answer honestly, my tone softening as I take a seat beside her. The chill of the earth seeps through my clothes, but I’m determined to stay. “I’ll talk, you listen.” I don’t wait for her to agree; I plunge into the depths of my thoughts, sharing the truths I’ve kept buried far too long.

I recount the state I found Aretia in, the chilling moment I first learned about the venin, what happened at Threshing. I describe how I stumbled upon her father during that first supply run, the joy mixed with anguish that nearly shattered me. And as I delve deeper, I reveal the parts of my life I had never dared to share, including the dark shadows of my betrothal to Cat. I poured out my fear, the dread of being nowhere near parapet the day she crossed, and the sickening panic that gripped me at the thought of losing her forever. Each revelation flows like a river, carrying the weight of my secrets, the urgency of my love, and the fear for her life with every word I utter.

I take a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill my lungs, and begin to unravel the tangled web of my thoughts. I talk about how I was going to tell her everything during that week between her first and second year, how Harlow begged me not to during that supply run. 

Each word feels heavy, a weight pressing down upon my chest. The truth sits precariously on the edge of my tongue, and I can almost taste the regret. Every time I had nearly spilled my secrets, I would catch a glimpse of the comfort that radiated from her—how she laughed and breathed in the innocence of those moments. It was in those fleeting glimpses that I felt myself spiraling deeper into the shadows of my hidden burdens.

With the stillness of the night surrounding us, I reveal the scars that mar my back—those unspoken burdens of lives I had taken responsibility for, and the shadow of her life, always looming. She remains silent, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the expanse of the star-studded sky, the darkness swallowing us whole as I pause. 

Eventually, her sigh pierces the silence. “You could’ve trusted me.” Her voice trembles with a mix of hurt and understanding. “That’s… it’s too much to carry on your own.” I nod, my heart sinking as I watch her. “I was supposed to be the one person you can trust without fail.” Her response is soft, laced with a bittersweet longing. 

“I wish I had. Would’ve saved us a world of trouble.” A rueful laugh escapes me, but the silence wraps around us again, thick and palpable. “I’m so sorry, Wren.”

“I want things to go back to how they were. Before death, before everyone leaving, the rebellion.” Her voice drifts like the gentle breeze, a whisper of nostalgia that makes my heart ache. 

“When we were just kids who ran through the tall grass and fell asleep by fires reading?” I ask, my memories blooming around us like wildflowers in spring. 

“Yeah.” The tension eases as she calms down, and I finally allow myself to breathe deeply, the weight of our shared past settling like a comforting blanket. “Is this what insanity feels like?” She asks.

“Are you doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result?” I respond, my lips curling into a smile, and her laughter bubbles up, infectious and bright. “You’ve been through a lot in the last 24 hours, Wren. On top of carrying so much by yourself because of your signets.” I reach up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the warmth radiating from her. “If you were perfectly okay right now, I’d be more concerned.” 

“He’s really there?” she asks, the question hanging between us and I know she’s asking about Harlow.. 

“I wanted to tell you, but it was safer for him to stay hidden until you were out of Basgiath. He was going to be part of your graduation gift.” My heart races at the thought, eager to share that sliver of hope with her.

The weight of the world seems to settle around us like a heavy blanket as Wren lays back on the grass, her voice laced with a blend of despair and humor. “Sucks that I’m dead when we get back.” She groans, the lush green blades whispering beneath her as she sinks into their embrace. “I can’t even enjoy him being alive because it’s all I can think about.” I let out a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the somber atmosphere. “Then let's live a lifetime before we go back.” I shift, mirroring her position and turning onto my side, the coolness of the earth seeping through my clothing as I lock my gaze onto hers. 

Her brow furrows slightly, curiosity igniting in her eyes. “How?”

A carefree shrug escapes me, yet the fervor bubbling within is genuine. “Make a list of what you had planned for your life, and let’s do it.” The challenge lingers in the air, a spark igniting between us as she rolls up to meet my gaze, her expression shifting from doubt to intrigue.

“Sunrise Flights?” she asks, her lips curving into a tentative smile.

“Done.” 

“Graduate?” she presses on, her spirit beginning to rise like the morning sun.

“We’ll throw you your own ceremony,” I assure her, our laughter mingling, brightening the shadows around us.

“Get married?” Her voice falters slightly, and I can sense the weight of the question, a stab to my chest. 

“Tell me when, where and who, and I’ll make sure it happens.” It's a stab to the chest to ask and I pray to Loial that the answer is still me.

“I only ever wanted you,” she whispers, vulnerability threading through her voice.

“Then marry me, Wren.” My words pour out before I can second-guess them. “I’d marry you even if you weren’t on the chopping block.” I tease, reaching for her sides, hoping to coax that melodic laughter from her once more.

“You’ve broken my heart so many times, Xaden. I can’t live my life like that.” There’s an ache in her tone, a lingering fear that pulls at my heartstrings. “Plus even if I do live beyond our arrival, you graduate in 6 days.”

“Then let's make a deal.” I pull her up gently, my fingers entwined with hers as I stand. “When you live—because I refuse to think of a world where you’ll be gone—we write letters until—”

“Threshing,” she interjects, the word bursting forth like a beacon of hope, illuminating the somber landscape of our conversation. Joy ignites in her eyes, a spark that scatters the clouds of despair hovering above us. “If we’re in a good place by threshing, then you can do a proper proposal.” 

I nod, my heart swelling with the promise of the future. Her words resonate with me; they are not just a glimmer of possibility but a commitment to the joys that life can still offer, a shared path we can walk together. “As you deserve,” I reply softly, the sincerity of my voice echoing in the silence that envelops us.

With a smile that could rival the sun breaking through the horizon, she proposes, “We seal it after my graduation.” Her hand extends towards me, the gesture a tangible manifestation of hope and determination. “One year, no full commitments until our decision at Threshing.”

I gaze at her outstretched palm, and for a fleeting moment, my heart races at the thought of sealing this promise. “No commitments,” I affirm, but instead of shaking her hand, I lift it gently, pressing a kiss against her skin. The warmth of her touch ignites a flame within me, and as I pull away, the weight of that kiss lingers like the fading light of day. “One year,” I promise, my voice steady, brimming with the conviction of my feelings.

With a soft sigh, I take a step back, the cool night air wrapping around me like an old friend. “Your old room is still available, or you can take mine and I’ll go find another room,” I offer, my heart urging her to find comfort and rest after the tumultuous events that have unfolded. “You should rest and then talk to your father in the morning. I think you both need it.” 

“Thank you, Xay,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of gratitude and trust. 

“Anything for you, Little Bird.”

Recovered Correspondence from Cadet Xaden Riorson to Cadet Wrenley Tavis

July 3, 634 AU

Little Bird,

It’s strange, writing to you after so long of always being around each other. It’s not the same, but it’s something. And I’ll take something over silence.

I saw you walking with your father today. You looked… lighter. Not because things are easy, but because maybe, for the first time in a while, something is right. You deserve that. Him, too. He never stopped asking about you. Even when he knew better than to expect answers.

He said he wasn't surprised you were the smartest in your year. Said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like your mother would’ve said the same and probably did—loudly, and more than once.

Garrick made us spar this morning. Claimed it was routine but he was going easy on me, which is insulting considering I still knocked him flat. He’s mad I didn’t tell him about your father. About Aretia. Probably still mad about you, too. I get it. I’m mad at myself, too.

Bodhi says you’ve been training again. Said you’re finally using your signet like it was made for war, not hiding. I laughed when he told me you made him miss every hit until he got desperate. But the part where Garrick ate dirt? I wish I got to witness that.

If you’re up for it, I’ll be at the ridge before sunrise. No expectations but I'd be honored if you joined me for an early flight.

It’s good to see you smile, even if it’s not mine anymore.

—X

Recovered Correspondence from Cadet Wrenley Tavis to Cadet Xaden Riorson

July 4, 634 AU

Xaden,

It is strange—getting a letter from you again. 

I don’t know how to talk to him. My father. I spent years mourning a man who wasn’t dead, building walls around a hole that didn’t need to exist. Now he’s here, like he never left, trying to make up for time that passed like it didn’t rip both of us apart. I keep waiting for it to feel real. But sometimes it does. In the quiet. When he’s not trying so hard to fix what broke. Just existing. Being here. And then I see pieces of my mother in his eyes and I can breathe again.

You’re right—he does talk about her. And me. A lot. It’s infuriating and comforting all at once. Like most things in my life lately.

Bodhi exaggerates. I didn’t make him miss. He walked into a swing like he forgot how momentum works. And I definitely didn’t make Garrick face-plant. I made him stumble and gravity did most of the work. Still, it felt good to be… me again. Even if I’m still figuring out what that means.

As for the sunrise flight—I'm sorry I didn't show. Not because I didn’t want to. I did. But I think I needed to know if you’d offer again. (Petty? Probably. Worth it? Definitely.)

But if you're serious about trying us or trying whatever this is becoming, I was thinking something less dramatic. 

A picnic. Just like before. Just food, and the sky, and enough space between us to decide what comes next. I’ll bring the wine if you bring the bread this time. 

Let me know. Or don’t. I’ll still go.

—Wrenley

W R E N L E Y

The note was waiting just inside my–Xaden’s–door.

Downstairs. Sunset. – X

I stared at it for a long time, turning the parchment over like it might reveal more than those two words. No apology. No explanation. Just instructions.

And yet… I was already lacing up my boots before I realized it.

I made my way downstairs, expecting to find him waiting in that infuriating way he always did—arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he’d planned the whole world and was just waiting for it to catch up.

Instead, I found Garrick and Bodhi.

Which immediately felt like I was walking into a trap.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

Bodhi just grinned like I’d already made his night. “You clean up well, Princess. Need a basket to match?”

He held it out like this was perfectly normal. The smell of warm bread and something sharp and sweet drifted up from the covered top.

“I swear, if this is some group bonding exercise disguised as a romantic stunt, I will force both of you to scrub the stone floors.”

“It’s not,” Garrick said, shoving a folded blanket into my arms like he wanted the interaction to be over with. “We’re just the forced delivery boys.”

“Volunteer delivery boys,” Bodhi corrected. “We’re sick of watching you two pretend you don’t care. So. Go.”

I eyed them both. “If I get stood up, I’ll find a way to make you regret helping.”

“He’s there,” Garrick said. “Trust me, he wouldn’t do this for just anyone. He's not playing games this time.”

The walk to the oak grove was slower than it needed to be. Every step kicked up old memories—training days, shared secrets, stashed letters under floorboards. We used to come here to escape the politics and the pressure. Before war made escape a myth.

I reached the grove just as the sun began its descent, painting everything in gold and shadow. The old oak tree was still there, thick and unmoving, like time hadn’t touched it even if it had leveled everything else.

I laid out the blanket in silence, setting the basket down carefully. I didn’t even have time to lift the lid before his voice slipped into the air behind me.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.” I didn’t turn right away but when I did, my breath caught in my lungs. 

Xaden stood a few paces away, hands tucked into his pockets, hair slightly damp like he’d just come from a shower. Shadows and sunlight warred across his face, but his eyes—those onyx eyes sparkling with golden flecks—are steady on me. He looked tired in the way people do when they’ve been carrying guilt for too long.

I turn back to the basket, shaking my head as I open the top and the full force of its contents greet me. “Trying to win me over with baked goods?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“That depends. Still like honeyed cheese?”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “You remembered?”

“I remember everything about you, Wren.” 

That silenced me. I busied myself pulling out our picnic as Xaden took a seat across from me and we ate in silence. 

Until Xaden spoke. “Do you remember the day my mom left?”

I paused for a second, then nodded. “You didn’t come to the stables after lunch. The boys thought you were sick.”

“I was.” His voice was level, but something flickered behind it. “Just not the kind of sick the medics could fix.”

I remembered. I remembered how I sent Garrick and Bodhi out on our usual ride and ran towards his room, the muffled cries that came from behind the door. I remembered how when he finally opened it and didn’t say a word—just looked like someone had carved out half his soul and left the wound open–I wrapped my arms around him and refused to let go.

“You were the only one who came looking,” he said.

“No one deserves to be alone on their birthday.” I murmur. “You always said nothing could hurt you. I think that was the first time I ever saw you cry.”

He huffed something like a laugh. “I cried harder a week later.”

I looked at him, startled. “What?”

“You saw me. I thought of you as Garrick’s annoying little cousin but you were still there for me.” he said simply. “I was really seeing how amazing you were and then a week later… you refused to leave with your parents until you said goodbye to me.”

My stomach twisted. “You already had your mom leave without a word. You didn’t deserve to lose someone else the same way.”

“I thought I lost everything that month,” he said. “But then your letter showed up. Ink-smudged, tear-stained, full of spelling errors.”

“You still remember that?”

“I memorized it.” He says. “I hate it here. I wish I was still in Aretia with you. Even if you, Garrick, and Bodhi tried to leave me behind most days, it’s better than not knowing anyone.” He recites and I just watch him in awe. “I remember telling you that you were capable of making friends with anyone.”

“I started hanging out with Violet and Dain after you wrote back.”  We sat in that memory like it was a shared language. Like neither of us needed to explain what that kind of connection had meant back then. “You were my safe place,” I try to explain anyways. “Even when we were just writing. Especially then.”

He nodded once. “That’s what made it worse. What I did.”

“You didn’t just hurt me,” I said, finally meeting his eyes. “You broke parts of me I didn’t know could break. I didn’t expect you to protect me from the world. I expected you not to become one more thing I had to survive.”

His throat worked around something unsaid. “I know. And I hate that I gave you another reason not to trust someone.”

“When did you realize it?” I asked. “That you’d gone too far with the secrets?”

He didn’t hesitate. “The day you looked at me like I was a stranger. After I kissed Violet. I saw it in your face—that I wasn’t someone you loved anymore. I was just another piece of rubble in the wreckage.” I swallowed hard. “But I never stopped choosing you. Even when it didn’t look like it.

“I’m not asking for all of you,” he says. “Just the part that remembers who we were. And maybe the part that still wonders who we could be.”

I don’t reach for his hand. That would’ve been too much. Instead, I hooked my pinky through his. Like we’re still those teenagers bouncing around how we really feel.

“You remember how to do that trick with the cheese?” I asked again, voice softer.

His smile was the kind I hadn’t seen in years—honest and unguarded. “More than I should.”

“Then do it,” I said, handing him a piece. “Earning your way back won’t be easy, but impressing me is a start.”

We didn’t talk much after that. Just ate, watched the stars appear, and let the silence sit between us without pressure. Without expectations. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t waiting for him to ruin it. And that… that felt like something real.

Recovered Correspondence from Cadet Xaden Riorson to Cadet Wrenley Tavis

July 5, 634 AU

Wren,

Thank you for joining me on that flight this morning. It was good–great. I had fun.

I’m not sure what all to write since we’ve spent most of the last twelve hours together so I figured I’d tell you about one of my favorite memories of us.

Do you remember that day you and your father returned to Aretia? Your Uncle and Garrick waited outside for you all day but you could have cared less, because instead of greeting your family, you ran into the middle of me and Bodhi sparring to hug me.

And in that moment, I knew I was already yours. In whatever way you wanted me because I only ever knew peace in your arms. (Even if you did cover my favorite shirt in snot because of how hard you were crying.)

Yesterday was the first time I felt peace like that moment in years. And it wasn’t the food, or the sky, or the fact that Bodhi packed three bottles of wine like we were going to war with sobriety.

It was you. 

Thank you for coming back to the sky with me.

If you want to do it again, I’ll be there. Same time. Same place.

I won’t ask, but I’ll always hope.

–Xay

Recovered Correspondence from Cadet Xaden Riorson to Cadet Wrenley Tavis

July 5, 634 AU

Xay,

Desa would like me to remind you (and Sgaeyl) that we definitely won that race. I know we didn’t. But she’s smug about it, so let her have it. Apparently “hitting the ground first counts as winning.” 

That day was probably the best and worst days of my life. I was so distraught over my mom’s death that I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, I hardly spoke to anyone. But the minute I saw the silhouette of Aretia? It felt like life breathing into me.

I did skip past Garrick and my uncle, but it was because I knew you would understand better than anyone, and you wouldn’t pity me. You just held me while I cried (I’ve apologized for that shirt a hundred) and let me feel it with comfort.

I wouldn’t see anyone else because I only wanted you. Not to fix me. Not even to understand me. Just to hold me. And I knew—if I ever let someone own a part of me, it would be the boy who waited silently because he knew I’d come when I was ready.

So don’t pretend you didn’t already have me, too.

Now for the question I’ve been circling around…

How is Violet?

Is she still unconscious? I’ve been meaning to check, but I didn’t want to show up and make it a scene. I know she’s strong—no one bonds two dragons and throws lightning around like a party trick without being strong—but even strength breaks under the wrong kind of weight.

If you know anything, I trust you’ll tell me what you can.

Thank you for the flight. And the silence. And the letter. Maybe I’ll meet you at the ridge tomorrow. Or maybe you’ll have to wait again. (You’ve always been good at waiting.)

—Wrenley

I found my father leaning against the railing of the upper courtyard, his mug cradled in one hand, the other resting casually on the stone. He gazed down below, the familiar intensity of a healer turned commanding officer still etched in his posture, though now softened by the years. He looks more like the man I grew up looking up to at this moment, and it’s still weird.

He didn’t look over when I approached; he never does. It was as if the very fabric of our connection granted him the ability to sense my presence, a quiet understanding that needed no words. 

“Your mother would’ve told them all to shut up and sit down by now,” he said, nodding toward Garrick and Bodhi, whose playful bickering echoed off the stone walls as they circled each other in the makeshift sparring ring. The sight of them—lively and animated—brought a flicker of warmth to my heart, a reminder of the family we’d once had. “Probably thrown her boot at Garrick by now.” 

I leaned against the railing beside him, the cool stone a comforting anchor as I folded my arms. A brisk breeze danced around us, tousling my hair and inviting the scents of fresh earth and blooming flowers to fill my lungs. “The most impatient woman, and yet she married you, the most patient man alive.”

“We balance each other out.” He smirked, a glimmer of mischief lighting up his eyes. “How are things with Xaden?” 

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m not sure I know how to let him close again,” I admit, a tremor in my words. “But I’m also not sure I know how not to.”

“You don’t have to make a decision overnight,” he reassured me, his tone steady. “Love isn’t a battlefield, Wrenley.”

I turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re quoting fairytales at me?” 

“Your mother loved that line,” he said, a wistful laugh escaping his lips. “Used it right before she kissed me in the infirmary after breaking a first year’s nose.” 

My heart twisted painfully at the thought. “I miss her, now more than ever.”

He met my gaze then, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that felt almost too much to bear. “She’d be proud of who you are, you know.” 

“Some days I’m not even sure who I am anymore,” I confessed quietly, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy cloak.

He nodded, the warmth in his eyes a beacon of comfort. “That’s how I know she’d be proud. You’ve lost almost everything and still managed to stay soft where it mattered.” 

The words hung in the air, rich with unspoken truths, wrapping around me like a delicate thread that sought to mend the frayed edges of my heart. I blinked hard, fighting the sudden swell of emotion that threatened to spill over. “You always know what to say,” I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“Only because I know you, Little Bird.” His hand found my shoulder, a gentle touch that anchored me amid the rising tide of uncertainty. The familiar weight of his affection settled in my chest, warming the chill of doubt. As he withdrew his hand, I glanced toward the stone corridor just off the courtyard, an unspoken invitation to the world beyond our quiet moment. “I think you’re needed,” he urged, his gaze flickering with a hint of urgency. 

Before I could fully gather my thoughts, a voice called my name, sharp and insistent. 

“Wrenley!” Xaden’s voice cut through the serene atmosphere, his urgency almost tangible. He seemed to slide across the stone floor, his form a striking silhouette against the brilliance of the day. Reaching out, he gripped the railing for balance, a flicker of something intense burning in his dark gaze. “Violet’s awake." 

“That’s not going to work.” Brennan’s voice sliced through the thick tension in the Assembly room like a dagger, his words echoing against the cold stone walls. “Next suggestion.” 

We’ve been here for hours, and frustration swirled around me, heavy like the stale air that hung between the Assembly. My fingers drummed absently on the worn surface of the table, the scratches and nicks a testament to the countless discussions held within these walls. I was beyond weary of the endless cycle of proposals and rejections, feeling as if I were a prisoner to this ceaseless debate.

“Someone has to state the obvious,” Major Farris interjects from the far end of the table, leaning forward, his gaze sharp as he surveys the room with a predatory intensity. 

My attention drifted, caught between my father and Brennan, still reeling from the surreal reality that they were both alive, sitting together in this room. The sight was unsettling, a patchwork of relief and disbelief that clashed within me. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

Xaden, perched above me to lean on the massive chair he had placed me in. “And what is the obvious thing you need to state, Major Farris?” His tone dripped with boredom, an unspoken disdain for the tedious nature of these diplomatic meetings hanging in the air. I could almost hear the sigh of frustration that accompanied his words.

“Returning is the only option,” Ferris continued, his voice unwavering as he leaned back, arms crossed, confident in his stance. “Not doing so risks everything we’re building here. Search patrols will come, and we don’t have enough riders—”

“It’s a little hard to recruit while trying to stay undetectable,” Trissa chimed in, her voice firm. I recognized her from before the rebellion, her fiery spirit unyielding even amidst the fraying tensions.

“Let’s not get off topic, Trissa,” my father added, the softness in his gaze lingering on her, a fleeting warmth amid the frost of strategy. A note to self: ask about that later.

“No point increasing our numbers without a working forge to arm them with weapons.” Ferris’s voice rose, breaking through the intertwining threads of conversation. “We’re still short a luminary, if you haven’t noticed.”

“And where are we in negotiations with Viscount Tecarus for his?” 

“Still working on a diplomatic solution,” Brennan replied, his tone carrying the weight of responsibility.

“There’s no solution. Tecarus isn’t over the insult you delivered two years ago.” Kylynn's piercing gaze was locked on Xaden, a challenge hanging unspoken between them.

“He was never going to give it to us even if I did marry his niece.” Xaden’s voice, low and resolute, cut through the swirling tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud waiting to break. He rested a comforting hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his touch juxtaposed against the chill of uncertainty that gripped us. His fingers squeezed gently, a gesture meant to ground me in the chaos of our negotiations. “But I’ll say the same thing I did then. I have bigger priorities than selling myself for a worthless cause. Besides, everyone knows the man only collects things. He does not trade them.”

The corners of my mouth twitched at the absurdity of the situation, but the humor faded quickly as Kylynn’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a dagger. “Well, he’s definitely not going to trade with us now,” she retorted, her gaze narrowing, icy and unyielding. The tension in her posture radiated through the room, a palpable reminder of the stakes we faced. “Especially if you won’t even contemplate his latest offer.”

“He can fuck right off with his offer.” Xaden’s dismissal was heavy with disdain, and as he squeezed my shoulder once more.

“What offer?” My curiosity piqued, using this opportunity to see if Xaden was serious about always telling the truth.

“He wants to add Violet to his collection, but I refuse to trade in people. It’s too Navarrean.” A chuckle escaped my lips, the absurdity of the notion lighting a brief spark of levity in the grim atmosphere.

“There had better be a solution.” Felix’s voice echoed with urgency, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. “If we can’t supply the drifts with enough weaponry to really fight in the next year, the tide will shift too far to ever hope of holding the venin advance at bay.” His words hung ominously in the air. “This all will have been for nothing.”

A year already? The weight of his statement settled over me, a leaden realization that the war had crept far too close for comfort.

“As I said, I’m working on a diplomatic solution for the luminary, and we’re so wildly off topic I’m not sure this is the same meeting.” Brennan's voice was firm, laced with a thin thread of frustration as he glared at the elders around the table, their faces etched with worry.

“I vote we take Basgiath’s luminary,” Kylynn suggested, her voice rising in the thick silence, daring to challenge the status quo. “If we’re that close to losing this war, there’s no other option.”

“We’ve been over that,” Brennan said with finality, his tone brokering no argument. “If we take Basgiath’s forging device, Navarre can’t replenish their stores at the outposts. Countless civilians will die if those wards fall. Do any of you want to be responsible for that?” 

As his words fell, silence enveloped the room, a thick blanket that stifled the air and left us all grappling with the weight of our choices.

“Then we agree,” Ferris states, his voice steady yet heavy with the burden of their decision. The weight of responsibility hung in the air like a thick fog, permeating the room with an unshakeable tension. The shadows danced around the flickering candlelight, casting elongated shapes on the walls that mirrored the growing unease within the gathering.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Suri.” My father’s gaze flickers to the last elder seated at the long, mahogany table, a sharp contrast to the rugged map that lay sprawled before us, its inked territories a chilling reminder of our fractured world. 

“I say we send all but the three.” Suri’s words slice through the tension with an alarming calmness. “Six cadets can lie as well as nine.”

My thoughts drift to the faces of Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, Violet, and the lingering absence of Liam and Soleil, their spirits overshadowing this meeting with their loss. 

“None of the none are expendable, Suri.” Felix’s tone takes on a sharp edge as he leans back on the rear two legs of his chair, an act of defiance that seemed to echo in the hearts of all present. His piercing gaze shifts to the expansive map behind Xaden, tracing the lines with an intensity that spoke volumes of our dire situation.

“What do you propose, Felix?” Suri counters, the subtle arch of her brow a challenge that seemed to hang in the air like a taut string, ready to snap. “Running our own war college with all our spare time? Most of them haven’t finished their education. They’re of no use to us yet.”

“As if any of you has a say in if we return,” Xaden interjects, his voice rising to capture the room’s attention. His presence, strong and unwavering, filled the space around him, a protective shield for those he cared for. “We will take the advice of the Assembly, but it will be taken as only that—advice.”

“We cannot afford to risk your life—” Suri’s argument spills forth, layered with concern and urgency. 

“My life is equal to any of theirs.” Xaden gestures toward the group gathered by the door, a quiet assertion that resonated with a touch of defiance. 

“Not every life,” Suri retorts, her gaze piercing as it lands on Violet. “How could you have stood there and let her overhear the conversation of the Assembly?” 

“If you didn’t want her to hear, you should have closed the door,” Bodhi responds, stepping into the room with an air of indignation that flickered like the flames casting shadows on the walls.

“She cannot be trusted!” Suri’s voice rises, anger twisting into a palpable fear that coursed through her. 

“Xaden has already taken responsibility for her.” Imogen steps forward, subtly shifting closer to Violet, her words a fragile barrier against the gathering storm. An uncomfortable feeling crawls up my spine as I realize the stakes at hand. “As brutal of a custom as it may be.” 

Don’t spiral, don’t spiral, don’t spiral. The mantra echoed in my mind as I tried not to think about my friends defending Violet.

“It’s just to keep her alive so you live, right?” 

“And for Brennan’s sake.” 

“I still don’t understand that particular decision,” Ferris interjected, his tone sharp as a blade. His eyes, dark and searching, flicked to me, and I felt a wave of pressure build in my chest, compelling me to sit up straighter, to brace myself against the scrutiny. “You let an inntinnsic into our meeting.”

“Please,” I said, summoning a steadiness I didn’t quite feel as Xaden’s warning flickered like a candle in the back of my mind. “Speak all of your transgressions with me.”

“Your mother was a loyalist,” Ferris declared, his voice low, each word a strike against my very identity.

“My father sits here, loyal to the revolution,” I countered, my pulse quickening, a sense of defiance swelling within me. 

“You’re an inntinnsic. You could be reading our secrets now.” His accusation hung heavy, a dark shadow cast over the table.

In a moment of reckless instinct, I reached into Ferris’s mind, a place filled with doubt and fear, and he reacted at my wil;, snapping the dagger from his hip across the table with a resonant clang that startled everyone. It landed with a thud directly in front of me, a stark reminder of the tension that crackled in the air. “I’m not that kind of inntinnsic,” I said, frustration mingling with indignation.

“How did you—” Ferris began, his surprise evident.

“She’s also a precog and extremely valuable.” Xaden’s voice interjected, authoritative and commanding as he reached for Ferris’s blade, slipping it smoothly into one of my empty sheaths, a gesture both protective and assertive. “To treat her as the enemy will make an enemy out of me.”

“Well—” Ferris faltered, the storm of emotions swirling around the table suddenly interrupted.

“Forget the Tavis girl.” Kylynn points back to Violet “She’s General Sorrengail’s daughter.”

“And I’m the general’s son,” Brennan countered, his voice firm yet tinged with unease.

“And you’ve more than proven your loyalty over the last six years!” Kylynn shouted, her voice rising above the murmur of dissent. “She hasn’t!”

“She fought at our side at Resson.” Bodhi’s tone was urgent, tension rippling through him as his voice climbed.

“She should be confined.” Suri’s face flushed crimson, the anger boiling within her as she pushed away from the table, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor sharp in the silence. “Both of them should. They can ruin us all with what they know.”

“Agreed.” Ferris regained his composure, his alliance with Suri solidifying as he echoed her sentiment. “They’re too dangerous not to keep prisoner.”

“I alone am responsible for Violet.” Xaden’s voice lowered, laced with malice as he glared at the gathering. “And if I’m not enough, there are not one but two dragons who have already vouched for her integrity.”

Violet's voice sliced through the air with a razor's edge, her frustration palpable. “She is standing right here,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and desperation. “So stop talking about me and try talking to me.” I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at her boldness, a flicker of light in the darkened chamber. The corner of Xaden’s mouth lifted ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile that illuminated his usually stoic demeanor. Yet, I felt the weight of tension coiling tighter around us, and I repeated my mental mantra like a lifeline: don’t spiral, don’t spiral, don’t spiral.

Violet continued, her voice shaking with anger and conviction. “What do you want from me? Want me to walk Parapet and prove my bravery? Done. Want me to betray my kingdom by defending Poromish citizens? Done. Want me to keep his secrets? Done. I kept every secret.” Each word resonated through the room, a challenge that ignited the air with electric intensity.

Suri's voice cut through the charged atmosphere like a knife, her eyebrow arching in skepticism. “Except the one that mattered.” The accusation hung heavily, a pall of judgment that seemed to settle on Violet’s shoulders. “We all know how you ended up in Athebyne.” 

I shifted in my chair, feeling an unsettling mix of sympathy and frustration for Violet. “She wasn’t the only one betrayed by a friend.” My voice was barely a whisper, but the sincerity behind it felt like a thunderclap in the tense silence. I slunk back into my chair, feeling the comforting weight of Xaden’s hand on my shoulder still—a small gesture, yet it grounded me amidst the turmoil.

“No first-year could withstand a memory reader, especially one considered a friend.” Felix turned his steely gaze on Violet. “But you have to know that you have enemies at Basgiath now. Should you return, you must know that Aetos will not be among your friends. He will do everything he can to kill you for what you’ve seen.” 

“I know,” Violet replied, her voice steady, though I could see the flicker of fear in her eyes—a spark that threatened to ignite into a full-blown blaze of panic.

Felix nodded, his expression softening just slightly as he concluded, “Then let this be a lesson learned.” 

Xaden’s voice rang out, firm and unwavering. “We are done here.” His gaze locked onto Suri’s and Ferris’s, a silent command that pulled their shoulders down in resignation. 

“I’ll expect an update on Zolya in the morning,” Brennan announced, his authority unmistakable. “Consider this Assembly meeting adjourned.” With that, the council members began to push in their chairs, the sound echoing like a distant thunderstorm as they filed out of the room, each of their faces etched with the weight of uncertainty.

As the last remnants of the council dispersed, I stood from my chair, and Xaden turned to meet my gaze, his dark eyes piercing through the tension that still clung to the air like fog. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

“Fine,” I replied, though the lie sat heavy on my tongue. “But I could use a flight.” 

Xaden’s grip tightened around my hand, a reassuring warmth that contrasted the chill of the room. As we turned to leave, we passed by Violet, who still stood at the table, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

“We’re headed up to the valley. Meet us when you’re done,” Xaden instructed her, his tone a blend of authority and gentleness.

“I’ll go with you now,” Violet protested, her urgency palpable, the need for connection evident in the desperation of her voice.

“Stay and talk to your brother,” Xaden countered softly. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance.” 

Xaden guided me out, with Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen following closely behind, their presence a comforting reminder of our shared bonds amidst the chaos.

As we stepped outside the walls of Riorson House, I inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling my lungs, awakening the part of me that craved the thrill of flight. But as the words escaped my lips, I felt a surge of determination swelling within me. “We have to go back but I think I have a plan.” 

A fleeting shadow crossed his face, revealing the weight of concern that coiled tightly in his chest. “You do?” he ventured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I confirmed, my heart thrumming a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. “You won’t like it.” I could see the gears turning in Xaden’s mind, the way his brow furrowed deeper.

“What do you need?” he asked, his tone steady, yet laced with an undercurrent of trepidation. In that moment, I could sense that he already knew what I was planning to do.

“I have to detour to the Infantry Quadrant when we get back.” The admission felt like a declaration of war with the way Xaden's spine straightened. 

“That’s what I was afraid of.” 

next part

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Chasing Shadows Taglist: @hiraethjules @fangirling-galore @sande5098 @javden @littlepippilongstocking @what-will-be-your-verse @xadenstyles @daisydark @messageforthesmallestman @taleiaargenis @littleemissperfecttt @nesiris21

[jnkgrnde]

— dating hc’s, clarisse la rue, pjo

summary — dating hc’s w pookie

pairings — clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (daughter of apollo)

authors note — some of this is inspired by a clarisse fanfic i read the other day w a child of apollo reader ☝🏾

⭑ alr first things first y’all r the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf WALK W ME!

⭑ like when u first got to camp clarisse was v.. she thought u were different but in a good way.

⭑ she expected u to act like how an apollo kid would except u were like 5x sunshinier and smilier.

⭑ when u decided to hang out w her more often after u arrived people were starting to question things

⭑ like how clarisse wasn’t throwing you in the lake

⭑ the only reason she hadn’t done that yet was because she was starting to like having you around, even if she didn’t act like it

⭑ you’d talk to her about your day, spar w her, etc etc

⭑ that was up until the night you realized you liked her more than friends

⭑ you were pacing around your cabin, biting your nails anxiously; when you got to camp, you decided to read about your father, and that included all of his tragedies family wise and love wise.

⭑ you didn’t want to continue that tradition, so you came down to the decision of avoiding clarisse entirely.

⭑ it started becoming noticeable after about two or three days.

⭑ clarisse was more irritable, and people noticed you weren’t around her as much. a lot of the time you’d write in your journal about it.

⭑ whenever you were at the archery range, you’d up and leave as soon as you saw clarisse.

⭑ she wasn’t happy about this

⭑ this had been going on for what felt like forever; clarisse trying to subtly look for you, and whenever she found you you always managed to leave as soon as she was approaching.

⭑ she would’ve never admitted this to anybody, but she missed you. how you would talk non stop about your day and always ask how hers was going. she missed the way you would get shy whenever she called you sunshine because of your descent.

⭑ she ended up having enough when she called out for you at the archery range and you blatantly ignored her, which is how you two got where you are right now

“y/n!”

you cursed to yourself as you started walking the opposite direction, not even bothering to put your bow down.

she didn’t let you go this time, running up to you to turn you around. you had a slight look of anger and fear on your face, and it hurt clarisse to see you look at her like everyone else does.

“why are you avoiding me?” you avoided her eyes. you weren’t really prepared for what would’ve happened when or if she decided to approach you. “is there something you wanted to tell me? any explanation? at all?” she persisted. “i just- it’s hard to talk about, clarisse.” clarisse frowned. you almost never used her full name. “it’s just me, sunshine. just you and me.”

you breathed deep to calm your aching heart. “i like you.”

clarisse stood dumbfounded. “what?” “i have a crush on you, and i was scared to tell you because of my dad and his history with love. i didn’t want to possibly get you killed all because i loved you.” clarisse looked at you for a moment then put her lips with yours.

her hand found your waist as you gripped her forearm. why and since when was she a good kisser? it was getting heated so you pulled away. “why did you do that?” you asked her breathlessly. “we have more of a chance of dying solely because we’re demigods. if i have to die early, i’d rather die knowing me and you were together through everything.” you nodded. “okay.” you whispered out.

“okay?” she repeated. she looked at you with so much love held in her eyes. “okay.” you started grinning.

⭑ let me wrap this up before it gets too long lmao

⭑ to reiterate what i said earlier, yall are the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf

⭑ whether its in capture the flag or just strolling around the campgrounds, clarisse is very protective of you

⭑ i’d like to believe she would steal some of ur lotion n stuff cs u got GOOD stuff don’t ask me how i know

⭑ you’d also help eachother out w ur hair like braiding them for games etc etc

⭑ she loved ur voice btw. like u had a naturally pretty voice bc of ur dad, so she’d love to hear u talk. bonus points if ur one of those ppl who sing peoples names instead of js saying them normally

⭑ it took her a minute to get used to it, but atp she does not care about pda; she’s showing u off whether u like it or not

⭑ okay thats it clarisse is my girlfriend #confirmed

[morganas-pendragons]

grief | elrond peredhel

a short little thing about helping Elrond through his grief over Elros. Think I may release one more drabble tonight as I am really trying to clear my drafts out. This is an actual drabble this time!!! It's less then 1K LOL

"I not only live each day in endless grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief." - CS Lewis, A Grief Observed

For someone who has believed until this point that you knew Elrond Peredhel well, this may be the only time you can confidently note that you cannot find him in any of his usual hiding places.

That is what causes you to go seeking Galadriel and The High King. To you, it is a normal day. A normal day in Lindon among comrades and friends in which you spend weeks preparing for the next event featuring the court of musicians that Gil-Galad employs for such an occasion. Your free time is spent with Elrond, lingering amid the trees within each other's embrace and whispering poetry among the rays of sunshine and flowers that scatter along Lindon's fields.

You do not find him there today. Not there, not at the waterfall, not in the garden. He is nowhere to be found. The thought of something having happened to him concerns you, and that is what leads you to GIl-Galad's courts where you find him and Galadriel conversing with one another. Their conversation is hardly perceptible enough for you to hear. It does not matter. You stride towards them with haste, intent on finding Elrond before the sun reaches its peak of the afternoon.

Gil-Galad seems to have been waiting for your arrival. He does not look surprised that his violinist has come to meet with him.

"High King," You begin, bowing lowly to him and Galadriel. “Forgive me for the intrusion.”

“It is not an intrusion, dear friend,” Galadriel’s calm voice responds. She is always, to you at least, the perfect picture of composure. You envy that ability. “What ails you?”

“I cannot find Elrond.”

You know something is wrong by the way that Gil-Galad and Galadriel look at each other. Your gut has been telling you all morning that Elrond’s sudden disappearance has a purpose, and it seems you are right.

“This is one day of the year that Elrond does not wish to be found,” Galadriel murmurs, sadness tinging her tone as her eyes fall to the floor. Her fingers skate across where she used to keep Finrod’s dagger at her hip. “We are never able to locate him.”

“Why? What is important about today?” You ask. Dread bubbles in your stomach as you fidget with your fingers. The King will not meet your eyes.

Elrond has been forthcoming about most of his upbringing to you thus far. Being the son of Eärendil The Mariner and Elwing, the Silmarils, Maglor and Maedrhos... All of it.

The one thing he has told you little about is Elros.

For the first time in the time you'd known her, sympathy flickers across Galadriel's face as she crosses the gap between you to take your hands into her own. You are dearest to Elrond. Due to that, she feels a deep obligation to look after you when he can't.

"This is the anniversary of Elrond's twin's death," Gil-Galad interjects before Galadriel can reply. Your fearful aspects crumples into something akin to sadness and a familiarity of grief that makes your heart ache. "I often do not call upon Elrond on this day. I never have found where he hides, but he sits in his solitude to ruminate over the loss of his brother on this day every year."

You square your jaw and squeeze Galadriel's hands before stepping away.

"If you will grant me leave, High King," You remark. "I wish to find my beloved before nightfall."

Of all the people Gil-Galad would expect to successfully find Elrond, you may be the only one on that list who could offer him comfort and bring him home before he caught ill in the chill that lingered in the air. Gil-Galad knows the depths of which Elrond loves you. It is a depth that far surpasses the weight of his upbringing, which he has endured.

He nods.

You are bounding up Lindon's staircases and out into its golden forests before you can hear their farewell, keen Elvish eyes peeled for the familiar form of your lover as you seek him out in all of your secret hiding places.

The lake, the waterfall, the garden, the library. All are empty.

"Where is it that you go to grieve, love?"

"Where the song is heard the quietest, where all the world comes to a halt, and where the heart falls somber."

You find him at the edge of Lindon where a single statue stands amid a small graveyard. You've seen it while coming and going from the city, mostly to Eregion to meet with other musicians and artists. No one would pay attention to it if they were not looking.

You have never truly taken the time to recognize it for what it is.

Elros Tar-Minyatur.

You don't say anything as you approach. Elrond is knelt at the feet of the statue, hands wound in the fabric of his cloak as he weeps. Not a sound escape his lips. This must be what grief feels like. Silent suffering over a face, a name, a heart that the rest of the world will never come to know again because you are what remains of their memory.

You hum softly to acknowledge your presence and rest your hand on his shoulder. He leans into it, seeking out the touch of your comfort, while his hands move upward to hide his face and the tears that stain his cheeks.

You do not shush him. You simply kneel in the dirt and take Elrond into your arms, kissing a head of damp curls as he slides into the part of your legs and clutches at you so hard that you're sure his fingerprints will leave bruises. His grief will slip into your bloodstream, and you too will feel the aching hole that comes with the loss of one so dear to him.

You do little but hold Elrond there. Press a kiss to his temple, to his hair, to his forehead.

There, wrapped in the warmth of the embrace of one who loves him still and will continue to do so, Elrond allows you to see the heart of him that bleeds over a twin who chose mortality, who chose men.

You wonder if Elros would choose him, were he allowed to live again.

You stare up at the statue as if Elros will speak to you.

I will live to love him for you. I promise.

[snow-blower]

angsty robb drabble pls pls pls like hmm the first time you see the king in the north behead a man or smth? and you start avoiding him cs all you can think about is the coldness in his eyes when he 🗡️↘️

Absolutely!! 🫶🫶

❥ Flinch

ROBB STARK X FEM!READER

TW: Graphic descriptions of death, beheading, pre-red wedding Robb aka King Robb, lore??? Who knows her??? Certainly not I at the time of writing this. Talk of blood, heavy angst, avoiding your husband because you watched him behead a fella.

The snow was falling when it had happened.

You were stood at the edge of the camp, donned in a fur cloak and thick wool dress. You had wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as you watched.

Your breath caught when Robb lifted his sword, standing tall and sharp, darkened by the weight of command even as he brought it down again.

Red covered white.

You flinched. Not from the act. No. From him. The look in his eyes, colder than the deepest depths of the North. It was the way he didn't hesitate. Didn't blink.

The head rolled. Bile rose in your throat.

Robb gave his men a nod, turned on his heel, and walked away as though his sword wasn't stained red. It was as if he wasn't the man who passed the sentence or the man who swung the sword.

You didn't follow him when he called for you.

You didn't share his bed that night. Feigned sleep when he found you asleep in your old tent the morning after. The tent you slept in before you married.

Your stomach twisted with guilt and your heart felt heavy.

You heard him shuffle back out of your tent, a wave of frustration following him through the flap.

Three days later he cornered you. You had managed to sneak off, away from the guards, and found yourself at a little stream. You tucked yourself against a nearby tree, slumped against it as you listened to the sounds of the forest around you.

You heard the footsteps and before you knew it he was stood before you. You didn't try to escape. You knew you wouldn't be able to pull it off. So, you shifted. You stood up, brushed the dirt from your skirts, and chewed your bottom lip nervously.

Robb watches you, blue eyes clouded with a storm. It was much alike the one he wore before battle, or when he's about to say something that will tear himself about.

"You've been avoiding me." He states, quiet but firm.

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously into your skirts. There's no point denying it.

"I frightened you." He continues.

Your throat closes. You nod again. "Yes."

You say it so quietly. It nearly gets carried away in the wind.

For a moment it looks like he's about to step forward, reach a hand for your hip or pull you in for a hug. He seems to second guess himself and instead clenches his hands in his leather gloves.

Your gaze drifts over his shoulder. You can see the glint of the stream. But you can barely hear the sound of the running water over your beating heart.

"Gods," he swallows, gaze flicking to the ground almost shamefully. "You cannot even look me in the eye."

You force your gaze back on him then. You look up at him. Really look.

His eyes weren't cold anymore. They didn't have the same hardness in them as they did that day.

No. Now they're filled with pleading. Exhausted. Red-rimmed from the sleepless nights he didn't have you in his arms for.

When you don't speak up, he does.

"You know I had to do it."

"I know that." You snap through gritted teeth. Of course, you knew he had no choice in the matter.

"I know it needed to be done. I know that there was no choice in the matter." You pause and glance at him again, searching for any hint of the man you saw that night.

Robb's gaze meets yours.

He's not there.

"It was the way you did it. Like it didn't affect you at all," you breathe out shakily. "You didn't look the same."

His whole body tenses at that and his jaw clenches. But, it's not anger that causes it. It's hurt. Pure, aching hurt.

"I couldn't. I was supposed to be strong." His voice is hoarse, cracking at the seams.

"If I had let it show — if I had flinched or hesitated — what would that say to the men who trusted me to lead them? To protect them?"

He swallows like the words tasted sour on his tongue.

You see him then. The boy playing dress up as king. The boy who was never truly prepared to play the game of wars.

"It did. Gods, it did affect me, love. I think about it every time my eyes shut. I keep seeing the way you looked at me after."

His gaze is still locked on yours. His lips trembles, and the tears in his eyes match yours.

"I don't want you to ever look at me like that." He steps forward, reaching out to hover a hand over your hip. When you don't flinch, he settles his hand there, pulling you into his arms with a desperation you've never seen on him.

"Don't ever look at me like that. Please." His voice cracks and his shoulders shake with a weak sob.

Your arms wrap around his midsection, tugging him closer as though you were trying to absorb the pain that had been festering beneath the surface for so long.

You don't speak. Not yet. You just curl your fingers into the leather of his armour and hold him close like he needs it. He does need it. He still smells like war when you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Leather, smoke and snow. Yet, for the first time it near grounds you.

"I'm still me." It's whispered once against your hair. Then twice. And then a few more times. Over and over like he's repeating a prayer that he needs the gods to answer. "I promise.

"I know." You finally managed to whisper back. It's all you can manage. But it's enough for now.

[323cutie]

take my soul, take my heart. | cs

pairing ୨୧ san x reader

word count ୨୧ 700

genre ୨୧ suggestive... fluff? lol is sexy a genre... is being horn knee for san a genre...

warnings ୨୧ mentions of sex, reader is implied to be a bit tipsy

author's note ୨୧ i need him and i need to do things to him and i need him to do things to me (blind is my most listened to ateez song)

18+ mdni!

It’s a vibrant night.

The middle of summer is unforgiving, but still kind with the way she gives you warm, comfortable nights. Crickets sing outside in time with the music in the bar, a chorus of youth and heat, a dance of love and excitement. Your eyes glow under the low lights, fitting in perfectly with the weightlessness of your limbs, the bass thrumming in your bones.

You don’t know how long the band has been on stage, but you know the singer has been looking at you their whole set.

He’s pretty. Warm and languid when he looks at you, passion lacing the edges of his voice when he sings. Your friends’ chatter slowly fades away, caught up in the sweetness of your drink and the kind, smouldering eyes of the stranger on stage.

He finds you soon after – at least, you think; he slides into the space beside you at the bar, eager but poised. You turn your full attention to him and he smiles, pretty dimples taking shape. He fits in so easy, warm and humid and bright. “Can I buy you another?” He asks, pointing to your empty glass.

You shake your head, do nothing to hide your gaze as you take him in. “Think I’m done for the night,” you answer. “Will you tell me your name?”

He grins, leans forward until he’s closer to you. One of his arms rests across the back of your chair, and you can’t help the fire that spreads through you when you catch the faint smell of his cologne, woody and floral and masculine. Once he seems to decide he’s close enough to you, his voice is a gentle baritone as he says, “San.”

It’s just his name, but you feel it wash over you like a wave. San’s eyes hold a question that you answer with your own name, and your voice seems to have the same effect on him – somehow, under the constant chatter of the full bar and the familiar beat of a song you’ve never heard, it feels like you’re in your own world with him. Barely touching, a whisper away, surrounded by midsummer heat.

“Do you dance?” He asks. 

You don’t even have to think about your answer. “With you, I do,” you respond. San grins, pretty dimples and all, then holds his hand out to you.

The dance floor is alive, and you and San find a spot in the middle of it all. You don’t usually dance, but you don’t usually get approached by people like San, either – but your footsteps match with his easily. You feel warm, burning, letting him pull you to his chest, then letting you go in a spin full of colors and laughter. The songs blur together until they slow enough for you to gather San in your arms, guiding his hands to your waist.

“Your voice is beautiful,” you tell him. There’s more, but you think he knows. His skin is golden and you want to see it under the moonlight, against your hands, pressed into your sheets. 

San laughs, and you think his ears are pink. “Yeah?” He asks, and you know it’s rhetorical, but you nod along anyways. “I’ll sing for you all night, then, hm?”

You preen, take half a step closer to him like the heat doesn’t matter. San lets you, pulls you to him, breathes you in. You wonder how he’ll sing for you – later, outside, walking you home, sweet like honey? Pressed against your front door, wound up and free, melodies bouncing off the walls of your hallway? Or maybe into your pillows, lyrics breathed into your skin, sucked into bruises on your thighs? 

It won’t take long, you think. The stars glimmer in his eyes but their focus switches to your lips, your neck. You feel like you’re standing outside midday, overwhelmed with something white hot. San’s fingers twitch at your waist like they’re aching and you want nothing more than to ease the pain.

You exhale, push closer, chest to chest. San sighs when your fingers play with the delicate chain around his neck.

“You’ll walk me home?” You ask, though you already know the answer. 

“Of course,” San says, eyes bright. He’s already inching towards the exit, and you follow. “I’ll take you anywhere, honey, just tell me where to go.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you lead him out of the bar, into the hazy street, fingers intertwined like fate. He sings for you here, true to his word, and his voice meshes beautifully with the fire in your heart and the desire both of you share.

[lw77]

Over and Over (MV x CS)

In this life or the next, Max is determined to keep meeting Carlos, over and over, to follow his tethered half as long as he'll have him.

Carlos thought back to something Max once said. “We’re soulmates. In our last life, you left me too soon, so I followed. That’s why you’re older now, and I’m younger.” Max had said it so plainly, as if it were absolute truth, sensing the hesitation Carlos never voiced. Every time Carlos felt the tight knot of anxiety form—realising it was Max’s arms he ran to, Max’s hands he clung to, and Max’s gaze that steadied him—those words unravelled the tension.

It was a softness for Max that made his father seethe, a trait he had tried to discipline out of Carlos his whole life. But when his soul was so tightly tethered to Max, pretending otherwise felt impossible.

He thinks back to that now. They're in Barcelona for testing, his home track—the place where Carlos first met Max and where he last sat in a Formula 1 car. Standing at the edge of the track, the sun high and bright, it beats down on Carlos’s back as he watches Max slip into the cockpit. The engines roar to life, and a familiar ache tightens in Carlos’s chest—a mix of pride and something deeper.

The last time he was here, he had stayed in the cockpit, helmet firmly on and head bowed. It was then that he realized he didn’t want to do it anymore. He had only ever stayed for the friends, then because his father wanted him to, and finally because it was the only place their fathers had no choice but to let them meet—bound by teams, contracts, and duties that served as a mask. He had never been the hunter his father wished him to be, never became the driver his father pushed him to be. Too soft. Always too soft to hold any shape his father pressed into him.

He wonders now if he ever truly accepted his dad pushing him into karts because some part of him knew it would lead him to Max. Was it all just fate’s twisted way of bringing them together? How cruel fate was, Carlos sneers, to let him break over and over as his father tried to shape him into someone he wasn’t meant to be. He gave years to the sport—to his father, only for them to chew him up. At least he managed to spit himself out before they could.

Back in the garage, Max prepares for the track, his eyes set with determination. The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow, a halo around him—the same Max who followed Carlos into F1 at seventeen because he always knew what they were.

As if feeling the weight of Carlos’s thoughts, Max’s gaze finds his, and when their eyes meet, he presses a kiss through his helmet to his index finger—I carry you with me.

—----

He’s leaning against the garage, waiting for Max to join him.

"Do you ever wonder if we really lived other lives?" The thought that they've been in each other's orbit far longer than they can imagine—that they've met as soulmates each time—goes unsaid as Carlos murmurs, his words barely audible above the cacophony. But then he remembers the weight of Max's gaze—how it anchors him and makes him feel like he belongs to something bigger than himself. He recalls how at peace he feels in Max's presence, how his heart slowed into a summer calm the first time they met, as if it recognized, before Carlos did, that he was whole. Carlos can't imagine a life without it; he can't envision his soul in any universe not being halved so Max can piece it together.

“Every day,” Max replies, his voice cutting through the noise as he emerges from the garage, wiping sweat from his brow. “I think about all the times we’ve found each other. It’s like we’re destined to collide, over and over.”

Carlos turns, a faint smile easing the tightness in his chest. “Maybe that’s why I can’t let go. No matter how hard I try, amor.” Leaning back against the cool garage, something stirs in his chest—something heavy and unspoken. He tilts his head, feigning confidence, but Max sees through it.

Grinning, Max steps closer, his eyes softening as he cups Carlos’s cheek in his hand, his touch both familiar and grounding. It’s as if he knows what Carlos is afraid to say. “You’re not supposed to let go, remember? Didn’t I tell you? I followed you for a reason. It’s always been you.” Max’s thumb brushes lightly over the dark circles beneath Carlos’s eyes, and Carlos lets his lashes flutter closed, feeling the tension melt under Max’s touch—the only anchor against the tide of anxiousness that threatens to wash over.

“Do you wish I never stopped? That it was still me in the garage next to you?” Carlos whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his vulnerability.

Max’s gaze deepens, and for a moment, the noise of the track fades into the background. “Always,” he admits softly. “But it’s not just about you racing. I want you everywhere, you know? When you’re not here, when I don’t see you—” Max shakes his head, closing his eyes as if whatever he thought is something he doesn’t want to hold onto. “It feels like I imagined all of this. Like I’ll have to chase you into the next life just to see you again.”

Max’s confession hits Carlos like a tidal wave, chest splitting open with the weight of it. His heart surges toward Max—this boy, now a man—ready to carry both of them. He grasps Max’s wrists, his face cradled between Max’s warm hands, and holds his gaze. Max’s fingers trace gently over his features—his brows, cheekbones, and lips—brushing tenderly against the stubble Carlos has been growing. Max’s reverent gaze never wavers, as if he’s memorising every detail, every touch, as if this moment is his last chance to do so.

It churns something deep in Carlos's chest, unaware of how fragile it all feels to Max to finally have him—for them to be together without the threat of either of their fathers looming over them ever again. He remembers when they were still boys under their fathers' guardianship, bound by filial duty and controlled by paternal pride. How the pain of their forced distance clawed at him, reminding him of all the times they could only brush hands or clasp each other’s necks in feigned sportsmanship, desperate for just a moment of warmth—a fleeting chance to soothe the ache of a bond stretched too thin.

Suddenly, it’s like Carlos is the one going 300 km/h, not Max. Carlos who waits on Max’s side of the garage, hand covering his mouth, too scared to watch the TV, too strung out to focus on anything but the data. Heart racing until Max returns, helmet off, healthy, whole—alive. Max is on the other side, speeding around the track, desperate to find him, to know he’s still there, waiting—real.

He presses a kiss to the palms still cradling his face, pulling Max from whichever depth of thought he’d fallen into—I’m here. Max answers his kiss with a gentle press to his hair, and as one hand slips to his neck, he pulls Carlos into him, drawing him closer—You are.

Author's note: This is based on the idea I had and the little blurb I wrote for it yesterday. I may make this multi-chaptered sometime in the future but this is it for now, so enjoy!