#flutter share file

[fluttertutorialhub]

How to Share Files in Flutter

Flutter is a popular framework for building mobile apps. Sharing files in Flutter is a common feature many apps need. This article will guide you on how to share files using Flutter, including how to share multiple file types like images, PDFs, videos, and documents.

Why Share Files in Flutter?

Sharing files is important in many apps. It allows users to share content with others quickly. For example:

Sending photos to friends.

Sharing documents for work.

Sending videos to family.

How to Share Files in Flutter?

Flutter makes it easy to share files. i will explain a step-by-step guide below:

Step 1: Add Dependencies

First, you need to add the required dependencies to your pubspec.yaml file. The share_plus package is a popular choice for sharing files.

dependencies: flutter: sdk: flutter share_plus: ^3.0.4

Step 2: Import the Package

Next, import the share_plus package in your Dart file.

import 'package:share_plus/share_plus.dart';

Step 3: Share a Single File

To share a single file, you can use the Share.shareFiles method. Here is an example of sharing an image file:

void shareImage() { Share.shareFiles(['path/to/image.jpg'], text: 'Check out this image!'); }

Step 4: Share Multiple Files

You can also share multiple files at once. This can include images, PDFs, videos, and documents. Here is how you do it:

void shareMultipleFiles() { Share.shareFiles( [ 'path/to/image.jpg', 'path/to/document.pdf', 'path/to/video.mp4', 'path/to/another_image.png', ], text: 'Here are some files for you!' ); }

Benefits of Sharing Multiple Files in Flutter

Convenience- Users can share multiple files in one go, saving time.

Flexibility- Supports different file types like images, PDFs, videos, and documents.

User Experience- Improves the overall experience by making file sharing easy.

Sharing files in Flutter is easy with the share_plus package. Whether you need to share a single file or multiple files, Flutter provides a simple way to do it. This feature is essential for many apps, making it a valuable skill for Flutter developers. Use the steps above to add file-sharing capabilities to your app and enhance your users' experience.

[counterintuitivecomics]

MASK UP FOR GLOBAL LIBERATION

Protect your community by wearing N95s and KN95s when meeting indoors or in crowds! The more of us mask up, the less we get sick, the harder it is for police to surveil us, and the safer we make our shared spaces for our disabled and immuno-compromised comrades and loved ones.

Get started by finding local mask resources on the global COVID Action Map (you can also submit groups to be added). If you have the means, donate masks and tests to your local orgs and encourage accessibility so we can ALL join the fight (bringing in interpreters/translators and medics, ensuring accessibility for wheelchairs/mobility devices, offering child care, filtering the air indoors, setting up virtual options etc).

UPDATE: Download this 8.5"x11" poster for free on itch.io to print and distribute! Includes files suitable for color, black and white, and risograph printing. Any donations will go to printing costs, or buying masks for my local mutual aid groups.

Pandemics have no borders, and all our struggles are united!

[ID: A poster declaring “MASK UP” in red above 3 figures from the waist up, each wearing a different respirator mask. The top figure is an Arab person wearing a fluttering red and white kufiyah over a black hijab and red dress, as well as an Aura 9210+ N95 mask. They steady themselves with one hand on the lower left figure, and raise the other one up triumphantly. The left person is a fat Asian teenager wearing a black hoodie with a genderqueer symbol on the shoulder, and a black Laianzhi HYX1002 KN100 mask. They are holding a box labeled FREE that’s full of COVID-19 Rapid Tests, and two different kinds of plastic-wrapped N95s. The last figure is a middle aged Black person in a power chair, wearing a Flo Mask with a customised rainbow cover, a dark blue winter hat with a Disability pin on it, and a blue shirt featuring 6 countries flags from R to L: Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Palestine, Haiti, Puerto Rico, and Tigray, Ethiopia. Underneath reads: “RESPIRATOR MASKS PROTECT: your health, your identity, and your community. Find resources near you at COVIDActionMap.org”]

[lovesickchoi]

📁 FILE 01: CHOI SOOBIN

⋆·˚ ༘ * After a missed anniversary and weeks spent out of sync, Soobin just wants to be close to you again—really close. No rush, no performance. Just you, him, and the quiet reminder that you still belong to each other.

✦ Love Language: Quality Time

pairing: soobin x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.8k

warnings: smut, f!reader, no protection, soft dom!soobin, sub!reader, cock warming, slight oral f!rec, praise, romance, no protection, finishing inside

🗂️ click to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

The apartment is quiet when you finally come home.

Way too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavier than your bag slung over your shoulder, heavier than the late hour blinking back at you on the microwave clock.

Stepping inside, you make sure to lock the door behind you. You take off your shoes, drop your keys into the bowl, and glance toward the couch.

He’s sitting there, asleep—just barely. Half curled into the throw blanket, one arm slung over the back of the couch like he was waiting for you but gave up halfway through.

You stand there longer than you intend to, just wanting to watch him for a moment. He stirs before you can say anything, lashes fluttering, voice groggy.

"You're late again..." Soobin grumbles. It wasn't accusatory, just worn thin.

You give him a small apologetic smile. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't even get a lunch break today."

Soobin nods and tries to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks toward the TV, and the silence stretches on longer than you'd like. With Soobin's recent comeback promotions and your new late-night shifts at the office, quality time together was few and far between.

Even when you managed to spend time together, it was never just the two of you. There were always friends around, always the other members. Never a moment that felt truly yours—never a chance to just be alone with Soobin.

And still, he loved you with a quiet kind of devotion. Soobin would wait up long past midnight just for the quiet privilege of walking you to bed. Even the smallest moment alone with you was worth losing sleep over.

You were so used to running—meeting quotas, ticking boxes, always being on—that you hadn’t noticed how little of yourself you’d given him lately. Not your stories, not your softness. Not your time.

And apparently not even your memory for important days, like today.

You realize it the moment your eyes flick toward the calendar on the fridge. The date. Your heart sinks.

"Shit," you breathe. "Our anniversary..."

Soobin doesn’t even flinch. He just watches you quietly, eyes soft but ridden with exhaustion.

Your own eyes shift down to the uneaten container of food and unopened bottle of wine on the kitchen table—he waited to eat.

"You didn't have to wait."

He responds quickly. "I wanted to." Soobin doesn't say for you, but it's written all over his face. He'd do anything to savor a moment with you.

"I am so sorry, Binnie," you're barely able to get out. "I care about you so much. I would never..."

You feel a twist of guilt settle in your stomach, but he doesn’t pile on. Nor does he guilt you. That’s not who Soobin is.

“You didn’t forget because you don’t care,” he says softly. “I know you. You just… never forget things like that. I know how overwhelmed you've been.”

Soobin doesn’t say more. He just lifts the blanket, a wordless invitation smoothed between the wrinkles in the couch cushions. When you lie down beside him, it’s quiet again. The kind that’s warm this time—full of unspoken things and shared breath. His arms curl around you instinctively. He presses his face into your neck like he’s been holding in the need to feel you all week.

"I hate this," he breathes out, almost like he's embarrassed to say it. "Hate only seeing you like this."

You swallow hard, because you feel it too. You've never been good at this. Never been good at showing Soobin just how close you want—no, need—to be near him.

You try to apologize. To say something, anything about work. About your stupid boss, the lack of breaks, the lack of appreciation, the unpaid overtime.

And he lets you ramble on. Because this is his favorite thing in the entire world—hearing your sweet voice talking about your day, getting to hold you while you do it. His eyes are sparkling and trained on your face, attention undivided as you vent. Soobin's heart thunders beneath his rib cage.

You’re halfway through telling him all the messy details—words spilling too fast, casual but unfocused, like you’re trying to outrun your own exhaustion. There’s a thin sheen of energy in your voice, but it’s cracked at the edges. You yawn mid-sentence, barely stifling it behind the back of your hand.

Soobin notices the way you press on like you aren't seconds from collapsing. He always does.

You brush it off like you usually do, reaching for a water bottle on the coffee table, already moving on to the next thought. But before you can, Soobin gently lays his hand over yours.

“You’re tired.”

You blink at him. “I’m fine.”

“You come home and talk like you haven’t breathed in hours," he chuckles through a sigh. There’s no judgment in his voice, just a quiet hurt.

That makes you stop. Not because you disagree, but because he said it like he’s been holding it in for too long. You never really knew how to be present with him. Even in times like this, when you knew he needed it most.

He sits up straight, shifting his body to face you fully. His hand doesn’t leave yours.

“I know you don’t like stopping. I know being tired makes you feel like you’re falling behind. But I promise it's okay to slow down once in a while.”

"Binnie..." Your voice trails off.

“You didn’t forget on purpose,” he says again, because he needs you to believe it. “But I still need you. I still want today to matter. Even if it’s just here, like this.”

His voice dips, eyes searching yours. "I know we've both been working a lot. But to be honest, this has been really killing me. Can't we just take our time tonight?"

And then he’s pulling you in—slowly, gently—his arms around you. The kind of embrace that doesn’t demand anything, only offers.

You don’t fight it, don't say anything. You just let yourself sink into his chest, right into the warmth of him. It’s the only place where you don’t have to be composed or efficient or fine. You just needed to be his.

His hand slides up your back. “Just… be here,” he murmurs into your hair. “For a little while.”

And for once, you let yourself stay still. His lips brush the crown of your head, barely there.

You feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He doesn’t rush you. But when you tilt your head up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. Warm and desperate. It’s not lust, not at first. It’s pure longing.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he’s trying to memorize you. You can’t help but lean into his angelic touch. Then his mouth is on yours. A slow and needy kiss that says I’ve missed you, stay forever.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back even as his fingers slip under your shirt, testing you, as if he’s asking for permission with every touch.

You give it with ease.

When you shift into his lap, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ache of it all hits him.

Soobin holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear again. His tongue is pressed between your lips, scaling every inch of your mouth that it can reach. An exasperated moan leaves you in a low sigh, and he swallows it down greedily. You unravel against one another, piece by piece.

The growing tightness in Soobin's pants presses firmly against you. You were beginning to throb for him and his attention alone. No distractions or distance, just this—focused and intentional.

Even though your lips moved unhurriedly, you have to pull away for air. But he doesn't let you escape so easily, keeping his forehead pressed firm against your own.

Soobin wants your attention on nothing but him tonight, that’s a promise he kept for himself. Before your mind can race, he's rubbing circles with his thumb over your leggings, stealing your mind away from stress and thoughts of work, locking them away where they’d be forced to put Soobin at the forefront.

Your leggings, usually an inconvenient barrier, were completely soaked through to the skin. It left Soobin no problem in rubbing every sensitive spot you yearned for him to reach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. "Fuck, been needing you so bad. Been so stressed out." His eyes are trained on the outline of your folds, your cunt basically sucking in the soaked fabric and begging for his finger to follow suit. He wondered just how well you would suck his cock in if you were dripping and swelling like this already.

He groans loudly without remiss, throaty and strained, head dropping against your shoulder in self-control.

He continues to rub you lovingly, tearing his gaze from between your thighs to your face, smiling at the blush blooming across your nose and cheeks. His eyes flood with warmth when he speaks. "I want to do something."

“I’ll do anything,” you answer to him like you always have. Your time, your mind, your soul—he’s always had access to all of it, whenever he wanted.

Soobin’s smile spreads wide across his face, unable to contain it. His hands grip your hips before slipping beneath your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head with care.

Your breath catches. He looks almost shy when he speaks again.

“Can I just… stay inside you tonight?” His voice is hushed and reverent. “I don’t want to rush. I just—want to be close.”

A nod is all you need to deliver him. His hands are gripping just beneath your ass, standing up from the couch as he holds you. Your legs lock around his waist, keeping him close amidst the trek to your shared bedroom.

You noticed how deliberate Soobin was tonight—every step he took toward the bed felt endless. And when he finally lays you down against the soft cotton sheets, it’s like the world exhales. For the first time in a long time, you feel breathtakingly alive.

His movements flow into each other, rewriting time just to make this moment last longer. The only moment he disconnects himself from you his to peel off his own t-shirt. Your clothes are stripped from your body as well, more carefully than ever. Tender fingers work at the hem of your leggings, dragging them down your goose-bump ridden skin.

Soobin's lips are the only things moving quickly, wanting to feel your warm skin against them. He's kissing a trail across your chest, down your stomach, breath sucking in at the laced panties staring back at him.

The black material is sticky, soaked, and completely lost between your folds. Your head rested gently against a pillow slightly cocked to the side, peering down at him through hooded eyelids. He was so beautiful. All the time in the world belonged to you two.

"Mm, fuck baby," you're already whining out. Fuck these new schedules. Fuck your late nights. This is what you've both been denied for too long.

Large hands splayed across the curvature of your hips, gripping the flesh and securing you in place. Between your legs, he helped himself to one long, and slow drag of his tongue up your cunt. He breathed you in, fabric and all, with greed. It felt like a reward for the time he'd spent patiently craving for your presence.

Tender teeth got hold of your panties, dragging them halfway down your legs. A chill shoots up through you, his teeth grazing your inner thigh just enough. Soobin's fingers took over, sliding the material the rest of the way off.

One more lewd kiss against your cunt, this one hard and claiming, and he's up on his knees removing his sweatpants and underwear just as painfully slow. You'd never felt so prepared for Soobin in your entire relationship. Thighs and sheets stained with splotches of your sweet arousal, out of control.

Now fully undressed and erect against his toned stomach, Soobin takes his place next to you on the bed. He's propped up, back against the headboard, looking at you expectantly.

"Come here," his voice is so careful as he pats his lap. His voice holds the kind of care reserved for precious things.

You swing a leg over his waist with his help, straddling him where he sits. Soobin is silent, but his face says everything. His chin pressed to his chest as he looks between your legs, lips drawn rough between his teeth.

He keeps his hands at your waistline, lifting his hips just enough to align himself with your sopping entrance. You both hiss softly as the head of his cock slides against your folds, hot and thick. But he doesn’t push in just yet. He’s waiting for you again, asking for permission.

“Can I?” he whispers, even though you’ve already said yes in every way that counts.

You nod and sink down slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. Neither of you moves. You just sit there, wrapped around him, buried in each other.

Your walls clench instinctively, and he emits a broken groan. But he doesn’t move, he doesn't fuck up into you—just presses his face into the crook of your neck and breathes.

This isn’t about sex for either of you. It’s about connection. Closeness. The ache to feel like you still belong to each other. Skin on skin, hearts syncing with every breath, you melt together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

Soobin stays nestled inside your warmth for so long that you begin to lose track of time. His hands draw lazy circles over your back, his lips brushing your shoulder in silent worship. Your arms hang around his neck, holding him close. Every now and then, your walls flutter around him, and he exhales a quiet curse into your skin.

Every moment spent inside you is marked by a kiss—some soft and delicate, others deep and bruising, left like claims on your neck. Soobin's voice is hushed, whispering over and over how much he adores you. His hands roam your body like he's rediscovering it all over again, tracing every dip, outlining the shape of you with his touch. He’s etching you into him.

Eventually, the stillness turns to tension. You shift your hips just slightly and feel him twitch inside you. His breath hitches, and you notice.

“Don’t do that,” Soobin murmurs, voice taught with restraint.

Your faces are pressed close, cheek to cheek. He can feel the graze of your hardened nipples against his chest, your shaky, uneven moans fanning hot against his ear. And suddenly, he’s entirely too aware of you—of how impossibly tight and perfect your body feels around him, like you were made to fit just like this.

"Sorry, Binne." You don’t mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it slips, drenched in need. “I’m just so full…”

You try to remain still, but your eyes are already glassy with want. And when your lips find his again, more desperate this time, he gives in.

He starts to move, gently at first. Rolling his hips into yours like it’s the first time all over again. You can tell he's afraid to shatter the moment, but can’t help needing you more.

Soobin's hand finds your hair, gripping firmly—not to dominate, but to really see you. He pulls back just enough to watch your face, to pass every wave of pleasure back and forth between your eyes. He makes love to you like he’s savoring it, dragging his cock in and out at the perfect angle, hitting your g-spot again and again with a patience that feels more like devotion than control.

But it’s not enough, not with how he feels inside you. How his cock stretches you open just right, how his eyes celebrate every inch of you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

So you shift again—this time intentionally—lifting your hips just slightly before sinking back down. The friction makes your mouth fall open, a soft moan filling the air.

Soobin groans, his hands flying to your waist. “Baby…”

But you’re already moving again. A slow, teasing roll of your hips that pulls breathless curses from his lips. Your hands brace against his chest as you rise onto your knees and start to bounce—gently, at first, letting yourself adjust, letting the stretch fill you again and again. His cock drags along your walls in the most maddening way, kissing your sweet spot again and again.

His fingers dig into your sides, but he doesn’t stop you. He wouldn't dare. Instead, Soobin just watches you with his lips parted, chest rising and falling with every bounce. The expression on his face is pure awe. He can’t believe this is real. Spending time with you has never felt this heavenly. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, voice trembling as your thighs work to keep the pace. “So big…”

He sits up more to meet you halfway, arms wrapping around your waist as his mouth finds your chest—kissing, sucking, biting gently at your sensitive skin. Every time you sink down, his cock hits deeper, and the pleasure tightens in your belly like a fuse burning too close to the edge

“Just like that,” he breathes, kissing up your throat. “You ride me so well, baby. So fucking good for me…”

Your movements grow faster, more desperate, chasing the high together. Each bounce has you both gasping, moaning, gripping onto each other like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

His hands slide up your back, anchoring you to him, and when your forehead presses to his, his voice is barely audible.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Soobin’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you squeezing tight around him. The sudden surge of pleasure makes your entire body jolt—your thighs trembling, your rhythm faltering.

“F–fuck!” he cries, his voice cracking as his core tightens beneath you. One hand claws at your back, desperate to ground himself, while the other keeps working your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge with each drawn-out stroke.

Your body trembles in his lap, chest heaving as you ride the crest of sensation. His name leaves your lips in a gasp, hips stuttering as you start to unravel for him. But Soobin doesn’t let up—he leans in, kissing you fervently. His voice is gravelly in your ear.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

And you do—your whole body shaking as pleasure rips through you, fluttering tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly he groans through gritted teeth. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Soobin holds you through it, murmuring praise into your hair, letting you ride the waves until your hips finally still.

But he’s still hard, still tucked deep inside you. You blink, dazed, and meet his eyes.

“Soobin—”

“Not done,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. “Let me love you a little longer.”

He shifts, lifting you slightly before guiding you down onto your back, never slipping out. His body settles over yours, and he kisses you so slowly you forget how to breathe. It’s not rushed, none of this was. He wants to remember every expression and sound you make beneath him.

Soobin starts to move again, hips rolling deep, cock gliding into you with a drag that has your toes curling. Each thrust is slow yet hard, filling you to the brim. He's making sure you'll feel him for days.

“Still so wet,” he whispers, voice shaking from restraint. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod with teary eyes, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to fuck you just a little harder—still slow and sensual, but with the kind of focused passion that makes your whole body scream.

His lips find your neck again, then your jaw, then your mouth, speaking softly with his mouth pressed on yours. “Want you to feel everything, baby. Want you to remember this whenever our schedules are busy.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, clutching at him.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he promises instantly, fucking into you with a little more urgency. “I’m right here. You’re mine.”

You moan his name again as he rocks into you, shifting his angle just slightly to hit your g-spot head-on. The overstimulation begins to take you over. Your back arches off the bed, and he catches you with one arm wrapped beneath you, pressing your bodies flush together, like even air between you would be too much distance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, watching your face. “So good for me.”

You barely manage to choke out a response. You’re too full, too overwhelmed, and too wrapped up in the heat of his body and the impulse in his gaze.

He slows again as he nears the edge, you for a second time that night. Thrusts going deeper, heavier, until you’re clutching his hair, pulling him closer, whispering into his ear, “I want you to cum inside.”

Soobin groans deep in his chest at your admission and presses his forehead to yours, breathing unevenly.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

It only takes a few more slow, grinding thrusts before he’s burying himself to the hilt and pulsing inside you, arms shaking as he holds you close. His lips tremble against yours, his moans drawn out and desperate as he fills you. The inappropriate sounds quickly have your own, blinding orgasm flowing from you with ease.

He still doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he kisses you again, even sweeter, before shifting both of you onto your sides, tangled together, still joined.

You’re panting, but your heart is calm. You feel full in every way, wrapped in his warmth, your body and soul entirely his. Soobin strokes your hair, nose brushing your cheek.

“Stay just like this,” he whispers. “Let me keep you.”

You nod, one leg hiked over his hip, arms tucked against his chest. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” he murmurs, breath hitching when your walls flutter again. “Fuck. You’re still gripping me so tight…”

You press your face into his neck, smiling softly. “That’s ‘cause I want you to stay.”

He chuckles, fingers tracing your spine. “Then I will. All night, baby. However long you’ll have me.”

You both fall quiet, still connected, warmth shared between flesh. The room feels sacred, filled with love, comfort, and the kind of silence that means everything. You make a mental note to call out of work the next morning.

Soobin stays inside you until you’re both asleep—bodies tangled, time slowed, nothing left to say but everything left to feel.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @twilght-talks @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @another-lemon-tree @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn

feedback/comments/likes are always appreciated <3

[minswriting]

UNKNOWN TERRITORY - A.H x Reader x S.R

About: Spencer walks in on Aaron going down on you. So he watches the two of you have sex.

A/N: this didn’t come out exactly how i wanted it to but i have so many ideas on this dynamic lol. so feel free to send aaron x reader x spencer requests! credit for border goes to cafekitsune on tumblr!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, office sex, unprotected sex, oral (f), getting caught, voyeurism, masturbation (m), whiny Spencer, whiny reader, making out, Spencer’s a virgin and receives a handjob

Word Count: 1.5k

Working late at the Bureau wasn’t one of your favorite things to do, especially after working a really long case. No one else was at the Bureau except you and Aaron, everyone had already gone home. You were exhausted and just wanted to go home as well. But you also didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to be between Aaron’s sheets as he fucked you into a blissful state. Instead, you were sitting on Aaron’s desk, thoroughly distracting him from the work he claimed he absolutely had to do, as he was on his knees with his face buried between your legs.

Your legs rested on Aaron’s shoulders as his tongue lapped around your cunt, coating his tongue with your juices. Your hands gripped the desk as you let out the most beautiful noises, soft moans with quiet whimpers. Aaron’s tongue dipped to your hole, causing his nose to grind against your clit. You gasped, moving a hand to Aaron’s head as your eyes fluttered shut. You gently tugged at his hair, causing Aaron to groan against your pussy. The sound sent vibrations through you, making you buck your hips in response.

You knew exactly when this sexual relationship began with Aaron. About four months ago, the two of you were forced to share a room in the rural countryside in Vermont for a case with only one bed. So naturally, you ended up with your face buried in the pillow as Aaron fucked you into oblivion. And you had absolutely no regrets.

Aaron worked meticulously at eating you out. He loved when he could just bury his face between your thighs. The amount of times you’ve woken up with his tongue inside of you was more than often whenever he slept at your place. Your pussy was like his happy place and he never failed to show you that. He moved his lips against your cunt, slurping as he sucked on your clit.

You whined, still gripping Aaron’s hair. You opened your eyes to look down at him, only to see someone standing at the door. You gasped. “S-Spencer,” You said, eyes widening.

Aaron stopped his movements, looking up at you with confusion. “What?” He deadpanned.

You pointed a shaky finger at the doorway. “Spencer,” You said again. Aaron turned his head, seeing Spencer standing in the doorway with a file in hand. Spencer was frozen, shocked at the scene in front of him. His lips were parted, his eyes wide like a deer, his cheeks were pinkened, and he was sporting a very obvious hard-on.

Nothing was spoken between the three of you for a good few seconds. You were still exposed, your pants sitting comfortably on Aaron’s couch in his office. Your legs were still on Aaron’s shoulders. You thought Aaron would stop the whole ordeal, being the most logical person in the room because he was your and Spencer’s boss. However, instead, he looks at Spencer and then at you and says “Reid, if you’re going to stand there and watch, you can at least come in and close the door,” before diving back into eating you out.

The action caused you to gasp and moan, your hand going back to Aaron’s hair. Spencer quickly walked into the office, closing the door behind him. He stood awkwardly in the room, watching the scene before him. He bit his lip, watching as Aaron ate you out. The way your body reacted to Aaron’s touch, the way your lips parted in an “o”. You looked as though you were in Heaven, basking in the pleasures that Aaron bestowed on you. And Spencer couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Spencer’s never done anything remotely sexual so his experience is very much nonexistent. What better way to learn to pleasure someone than to watch it happen right in front of you?

The look you were giving Spencer as Aaron ate you out was one that Spencer would likely jerk off to frequently. He had expected that you would look at Aaron as if he was the one pleasuring you but instead, your lustful gaze met Spencer’s doe eyes, as though you wanted him to join. And as you let out a loud moan, biting your lip when Aaron sucked on your clit, you made a come here motion to Spencer. Spencer was quick to walk over to you, placing the file that was in his hands on Aaron’s desk before taking a seat next to you on the desk. He looked at you, waiting for you to say or do anything.

You tilted your head towards Spencer, looking at him. “Kiss me,” you breathed out.

And Spencer didn’t need to be told twice as he put his lips onto yours.

Aaron glanced up as he continued eating you out, his hands on your thighs. He saw you and Spencer kissing, unable to help the small chuckle that escaped his lips against your cunt. The action of itself caused you to moan against Spencer’s mouth, allowing his tongue to explore you. Your kisses with Spencer were slow but hungry. Both of your hands were tugging at Aaron’s hair.

You could feel yourself getting closer. With the way Aaron’s tongue kept moving around on your pussy and how his nose would brush against your clit. The way Spencer’s tongue moved inside your mouth as he kissed you. The little cherry on top that sent you over the edge was the way Spencer had tentatively put a hand on your left boob, massaging the flesh through your shirt. You came with a loud moan that was muffled by Spencer’s mouth. Your thighs clenched around Aaron’s face, shaking as your orgasm overcame you.

When you finished, you pulled away from the kiss to look down at Aaron, breathing heavily. He pulled away from your cunt, taking your legs off of his shoulder as he stood up. His face was glistening from your juices. He took the back of his hand, wiping his chin before licking his lips. It wasn’t long until the three of you were undressed and moved to Aaron’s couch.

Spencer was sitting on the left side of the couch while Aaron had you bent over on the rest of it, his cock thrusting into you hard. Your eyes were rolled back as Spencer watched you. He had his cock in his hand, stroking himself with his fist. He thumbed the tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that had accumulated, causing him to let out a whine.

That noise sent a shiver down your spine, causing your pussy to flutter around Aaron’s cock. “Oh you liked that didn’t you, baby?” Aaron groaned, giving you a particularly harsh thrust, eliciting a sharp moan from you.

“Yes,” you whined, looking at Spencer.

Spencer really couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He knew it should’ve been wrong. The fact that you were his coworker and Hotch was his boss. And yet, he could hardly find himself caring when you looked so pretty getting railed by your boss. Spencer began stroking himself a bit faster, pumping his cock in rhythm of Aaron’s thrusts. But when your hand moved to wrap around Spencer’s, helping him jerk himself off? Spencer almost came right then and there. “O-oh fuck,” Spencer whimpered out, throwing his head back. His eyes met with Aaron’s as he turned his head to the side as Aaron gave him a smirk.

Aaron’s thrusts became more frenzied, chasing the pleasure that you both craved. The office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, moans and whines from both you and Spencer, and the low groans that Aaron was letting out.

It didn’t take long for Spencer to cum. His hips began meeting your fist and he was done for. His cum landed on his chest and stomach as Spencer let out the most beautiful noises you had ever heard.

The heat was building in your abdomen from Aaron’s thrusts. You were close and Aaron could tell. “Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” Aaron said, grabbing your ass and massaging it. His breathing was harsh just like his thrusts.

You came with a high pitched noise that was surely pornographic, a noise that will live in Spencer’s dreams frequently. You buried your head into the leather cushion, cumming from Aaron’s cock. Aaron continued his pace before letting out a loud groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came.

Harsh breathing filled the air as the three of you came down from your highs. You looked at Spencer who was moving his gaze between you and Aaron. None of you spoke. But there was change in the way the three of you interacted from now on. This fateful night marked the night when Spencer became part of your dynamic with Aaron. It was uncertain as to where it would go or what would come of it. But all that mattered was teaching one another and exploring each other’s bodies.

[tbaluver]

Hear me out !

Lnds men with baby fever

🤭

Catching Baby Fever! - The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i'm def hearing you out bc them with baby fever is such a cutie idea (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading !! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ special thank yous to my beta readers!! @ilovemitsuya @dawnbreakerluna @luvzayne MWAH ILYALL any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

There was this feeling that stirred in his chest while his heart fluttered when he saw the little girl run into your arms during a mission. He knew this feeling only arose when he was around you but seeing you care for the child so effortlessly stirred emotions he wasn’t quite prepared for

He’s never really thought about children or had that talk with you yet but he can’t help but think what it would be like if you two had one together after your mission ended. How small they would be while he cradles them. How they would sleep in between you and him for protection.

Xavier was unusually quiet after the mission ended and when the little girl was returned safely to her mother. He’s never really thought about having children or had that talk with you yet but the idea seems nice. His heart flutters thinking of having a little one in his arms and how they would sleep safely in between you and him.

It felt like he couldn’t escape the thought of having a child no matter where he went. His favorite characters in his favorite show would suddenly have a child and he would be way more absorbed into the show than usual. Anytime he clicks on social media, his phone would be flooded with videos of parents dressing their babies up in cute onesies but one tiny baby would be dressed up in a cute bunny onesie that had him in absolute awe so he sent it to you. And how he wished you two were these two parents holding their baby’s hands, swinging them gently as they strolled through the park.

Xavier would never bring it up until you were ready to talk about it but there were subtle hints that it was lingering on his mind. Whenever you two drifted off to sleep, he’d wrap his arms around you, his head resting gently against the back of your neck. His hands would rub softly on your belly as if he was dreaming of a future family with you.

Zayne:

The pediatrics department in Akso hospital has been much more lively these past few days. Children running up to a well known hunter in Linkon city and in Zayne’s heart. Each time you visited, the children’s excitement was palpable. Every single one of their fears for upcoming surgeries and checkups were gone once you helped and remind them to stay strong. They were always eager to hear about a Hunter’s life and what it was like when you undertook missions.

However, it seems like you failed to notice your lover would often linger by the door of the room you were in, pretending to check the children’s files on the doors. In reality he was listening to every part of the story and he couldn’t help but be captivated by how effortlessly you connect with the children.

Sometimes he’d pass by the rooms you were in just to catch a glimpse of you in your element, telling them stories and making their faces light up. It was the way you laughed along with them, your sweet laughter that blended with their innocent joy and it just made his heart absolutely melt. The scenario of coming home one day and seeing that scene play out in your shared home makes his heart flutter.

It’s rare for Zayne to daydream even on his breaks, his mind always focused on the present. But he can’t help but shake off the thought of what it would be like to have an imaginary future baby with you. Would they have your eyes? Would they have your smile? Would they have your adorable laugh? Would they love you as much as he does? absolutely

Small domestic scenarios often drift through his mind, making his lips curl into a fond smile. He can’t help but chuckle to himself, imagining the three of you grocery shopping. As you place items into the cart, you catch sight of the container of macarons inside the stroller.

“Zayne!” I told you no sugar this weekend, it’s the doctor's orders!” you scoffed.

“They wanted it,” He lies as your baby coos. Unfortunately for you it’s a battle that you would lose because he knows how easily you would melt when it comes to him and to your little one.

Rafayel:

Scrolling through social media did not help him at all and only deepened his longing. Each post was either some heartwarming documentary about whales swimming with their calves or parents dressing their children up in adorable onesies. This feeling all started when he attended an art event, crowded with renowned artists when a familiar artist caught his eye. He watched as their children eagerly ran and leaped into his arms the moment he spotted their father.

He couldn’t stop imagining what a future with you and a family of his own would look like. Small scenarios of him holding your hand while his other hand cradles your little one as you all attend an event together or the joy he would have when you surprise visit him with your children, tiny feet rushing into his arms made his heart flutter. Or the scenario of your little babies first swim in the ocean and their tiny little tail swimming right beside him. Rafayel envisions playful days chasing sharks or the cutest sight of their tiny handrprints on his canvas. All of these scenarios made his heart swell with so much love at the thought of the future with you.

At first you didn’t realize just how badly he was catching baby fever. It just some subtle posts here and there until it became a streak all linked to the topic of babies followed by a message like, “isn’t this cute lul” "i would never name our child this"

For the past couple of days, anytime you two went shopping, he couldn’t help but linger around the baby area around the shop. His mind raced with thoughts of what outfits would look adorable if you two had a little one of your own. As you moved through the store, he’d get distracted by tiny canvases or art supplies made just for kids. “Can you imagine cutie? If we had a little one, they would paint right beside me”

Sylus:

He couldn’t wipe that smile off his face as he unlocked his phone and saw the pictures you’d sent of yourself babysitting your co-workers baby. On his way to your apartment to drop off some things, he was even met with an even more adorable sight. You were cradling the baby gently in your arms, soothing them to sleep. His eyes softened at the scene, his heart raced, beating faster if it was even possible.

As he helps you clean up the mess the little one made, his gaze often drifts back to you, a soft smile on his face. The thought of you playing with your own children with a beautiful ring on your finger. A family that would be his, the one you two built together with so much love. He dreams of teaching them so many things, especially the ones that would most likely end up with you scolding him and your children.

He can’t help but imagine what it would be like if these were your children instead, often updating him about the small things your baby would have done even if all they did was laugh. How you would send him cute voice messages of your children even if it was just them cooing into the mic. And he can’t help but imagine coming home from work and having you and a little on that you both call yours run up to his arms.

Once your co-worker picks up their child, he can’t shake this empty feeling his chest now that the little one is gone. The child had been so well-behaved and so sweet thanks to your care. For the last couple days, he subtly mentions how quiet the house feels without the sound of small footsteps padding around the place or without the child's laughter. He'll even bring up what could he possibly do with all the extra space at his home.

IN GENERAL ( ALL ): Regardless of what they wanted, at the end of the day, the decision would always be yours. They understand that you were the one who would carry the baby for nine months. If you felt ready and wanted to take that step, then they would do their absolute best for it to happen. A happy wife means a happy life.

[invoncible]

FAILSAFE ✧˚. 00 / PROLOGUE There's only a handful of people with the skillset to raise a gifted child.

knock, knock

Debbie stopped in her tracks. She just closed the door on a potential nanny who was, unsurprisingly, working for Cecil. Was he so desperate to keep tabs on her and her family that he would send these poor employees to wait at her door day in and day out?

She rolled her eyes as she turned around, walking back to the front entrance. He could send as many as he wanted. She wasn't going to budge—and she'd show him by sending away the next agent he put on her doorstep.

"Hi! I'm April Howsam, here for the nanny position?" The woman greeted cheerfully. "This is my aide, Y/N."

You peeked out from behind your mentor, offering a small wave and polite smile.

Debbie's tired eyes darted between you both but before she could put her foot down, April spoke up.

"Before we begin, you should know that Cecil sent us. Now, I wasn't supposed to tell you, but I think it's unacceptable to mislead a potential employer." April clutched her files close to her chest, her brows furrowing. "Especially one looking for someone to take care of their child."

Your gaze landed on Debbie's face, studying her shock with a hopeful heart. A moment of silence passed, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward, rather... like an understanding was being shared.

"Please come in." Debbie stepped back, her eyes holding onto a shred of suspicion but clearing the way for you and April to enter her home nonetheless.

You both smiled at her as you shuffled in, the scent of a clean home infiltrating your nostrils almost immediately. Everything was in place—pillows, rugs, art... It was clear Debbie ran her home diligently.

The door clicked shut behind you, Debbie joining you in the foyer. April handed her the file with your resumes.

"As you can see, I have extensive experience working with gifted children ranging from newborns to late teens." April explained as you rounded the corner.

Your eyes lit up upon seeing the baby in question; the cutest little grape-colored boy crawling on the ground. Your lips broke into a smile, mouthing a little hi! and fluttering your fingers in his direction.

He raised his head to look at you, tilting in confusion slightly before crouching lower to the floor like a lion cub about to pounce. He pushed himself up to his feet and returned his efforts to his excursion across the living room.

"So you know that Oliver is..."

"Half Thraxan, half Viltrumite." April answered. "I also know that Nolan Grayson is Oliver's father, and your son, Mark, is Oliver's half-brother."

"You've been thoroughly briefed, I see." Debbie's eyes lifted off the pages in front of her to glance at you and your mentor.

"Yes, we have," April turned to you with a warm smile, reaching an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into the conversation.

"And—I'm sorry, what's the purpose for both of you?" Debbie asked.

"Thraxans are known to grow quickly. I can foster Oliver's learning and mental abilities just fine, but he'll need someone younger who can keep up with him should he want to play outside, for example." April gestured to you. "Which is where Y/N comes in."

"Ah." Debbie's head tilted in acknowledgment, her lips pursing in thought.

"While I don't have the experience April does, my whole life has been centered around taking care of kids." You piped in, glancing at April for reassurance. She nodded kindly.

Debbie raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"19." You answered quickly. Debbie's face fell just a smidge but you quickly continued, "Finished school at 16, spent the years since learning April's trade. You can rest assured I am well equipped to handle Oliver."

Confidence restored, if only a little bit, Debbie smiled. April waved to Oliver as he approached you.

"My philosophy on child-rearing is simple. Encourage a child's natural curiosity," April bumped your shoulder, handing you a teething toy and nodding towards Oliver. "while giving him structure and a safe space to grow."

You swiftly caught up to him, gently holding onto his wrist before he pulled out a pair of scissors from the plant pot. He whined, but you dangled the toy in front of him as a peace offering.

"How about this one?" You hummed. He grabbed it without any fussing, ditching the scissors. You watched him waddle away with a small smile and handed the scissors back to Debbie.

"I also play a mean lullaby on the ukulele." April joked lightheartedly.

Debbie sighed, putting the scissors away at a safe height before dropping onto the couch. "I appreciate your honesty. I just don't want a GDA agent in my house running interference for Cecil on how to raise Oliver."

"There's only a handful of people in the world with my skillset." April flattened her hand over her chest emphatically. "And I'm choosy with who I pass those skills onto. This allows me and my mentee freedom from government oversight. We work for you, Ms. Grayson. Not Cecil."

"You're the boss." You emphasized. Your attention was drawn to Oliver who was sat at Debbie's feet, toying with the teething ring.

"Mama boss." He chirped, twisting to look at her. Debbie instantly smiled, scooping him up in her arms.

"See? Oliver knows who's in charge." April's eyes closed as she laughed brightly, leaning back slightly in her chair. You couldn't help but go awwww at the endearing sight. You had worked with many kids over the last three years, but none as young as Oliver yet.

Debbie smiled, a low sigh passing through her lips. "Let's do it."

[]

Debbie left you both to your devices, deciding to take a meeting with her company to see how she could integrate her way back into her full-time schedule. She still kept a close eye on you, setting up on the kitchen island while she took calls.

"Alright." April cooed, pulling the coffee table out of the way to free up more open space in the living room. "What do you say we assess your abilities, Oliver?"

He babbled happily and April chuckled sweetly as she pulled out her checklist and notepad.

You sensed a break in Debbie's meetings, getting up and strolling into the kitchen area. "Do you mind if I grab a glass of water?"

"Oh, not at all. Help yourself." She smiled over her computer, fingers clacking away at her keyboard.

You thanked her, opening the fridge and pouring a glass. The fridge door swayed shut, revealing Debbie on the other side. You jumped slightly at her sudden appearance, eyes snapping to where she was just sitting.

"You're the same age as my son, you know." She began.

"Yes," You answered smoothly, refilling the pitcher and shelving it back in the fridge. "Mark Grayson. Invincible's a pretty big name right now."

"Ugh, I know." She groaned, a bitter glare focused on the floor.

You cast her a quizzical look before she quickly shook her head of her frown, clarifying, "I'm so happy for Mark, really. But I just worry sometimes. He's working so hard, and Cecil doesn't make it any easier for him—"

You laugh softly, calming her ranting to a stop. "Oh, believe me. I get it. Cecil doesn't make anything easy for anyone."

She smiled appreciatively. "It's so... refreshing to have people I can talk to about all of this, even the GDA."

The Graysons were a popular name at the GDA, what with Omni-man's betrayal, Mark's penchant for attracting the worst kinds of enemies, and now the new baby. You were well aware of Debbie's situation, her burden—it was one of the reasons you jumped at the offer for this case.

"Like April said, we don't work for the GDA and we have a wide skill set." You leaned against the countertop beside her. "Whatever counseling you need, or if you just need to vent, I'll listen. Nothing leaves this house."

She paused, considering your words. Debbie was smart. Even smarter to be naturally distrusting of anyone who is a part of her or her sons' lives. You and April were convincing enough, though, to make her lower her guard just a little bit.

"Yeah." She whispered, eyes creasing with a genuine smile. "I'd... I'd like that. I tried something and... it didn't really work out." Her face drooped, her waterline growing glossy as she recounted trying her luck with the support group.

Her moment of reminiscing shattered when her phone buzzed. "Uh... another time. Rain check?" She chuckled, rounding back to her station and answering the call.

"Of course." You smiled politely when she met your eyes, sipping from your glass.

You wondered how long it would take them to find out you're lying through your teeth.

[]

Mark wanted to drop dead after spending hours trying to do the exact opposite. But no—he negotiated with Cecil for a few days off so he could spend time with Amber. He wasn't going to crash when he had to prepare for their date tomorrow. He wouldn't forgive himself if he slept in.

Dusting off his sweater and pants as he flew back home, he quietly slipped in the back of the house. It was dark, as expected. His mom was usually asleep during this time, Oliver included on a good day.

It seemed to be a good day.

He wiped his shoes on the mat at his feet, trudging into the kitchen for a quick snack before bed. He had to be up early if he wanted to beat the crowds at the Comic Convention.

He froze when he heard Oliver's sniffles. His head twitched to the side, tuning out the low buzz of the fridge to listen in. He heard a voice—light and sweet, comforting, but most definitely not his mother's.

Panic snaked its way around his heart and tugged, his breath short as he bolted up the stairs. He stood tensely in the hallway, peering into his mother's room to see her untouched bed.

His brows furrowed as he burst into Oliver's room. "Oliver—?"

You and Oliver both flinched at the sudden intrusion, staring up at Mark with saucers for eyes. Oliver giggled happily, reaching out for his brother.

Mark lunged forward. Not to embrace his brother, no—his hand curled around your throat instead, driving you into the wall behind you.

You gasped sharply, eyes screwing shut as the force knocked the wind from your lungs. You clawed at his arm, feet kicking helplessly with nothing to stand on. "Wait—"

He hovered over your squirming body mercilessly, squeezing to watch you splutter.

"Who are you?"

© invoncible

[gildedwillow]

the daddy files: daddy's busy, baby - emily prentiss - 18+

.

you only wanted a little attention. but when daddy finally gives it to you, it’s more than you ever knew you needed.

.

emily prentiss x bimbo!girlfriend

Emily sat at her sleek mahogany desk in the home office you both shared, though “shared” was a stretch, considering you rarely used it for anything other than sitting in her lap while she worked.

Rain tapped gently against the window, but the quiet hum of the room was thick with tension. Emily’s brow furrowed as she flipped through an old case file, the lamplight casting a soft glow over her stern features. She looked tired, focused, so serious. It made your thighs clench.

You padded into the room on bare feet, wearing nothing but a pair of baby-pink lace panties and one of her crisp white button-downs, oversized and unbuttoned. You didn’t bother with a bra. She liked it better that way.

“Daddy…” you cooed, voice syrupy sweet as you leaned against the doorway, dragging one finger down the edge of the doorframe. “You’ve been in here forever.”

“I’m working,” she said flatly, eyes never leaving the page. “Go relax, baby.”

You pouted, stepping closer. “But I wanna sit with you. I’ve been so good all day…”

Emily didn’t respond, but her eyes flicked up just for a second: just long enough to take in the way your nipples pressed against the thin fabric. Just long enough to catch the mischievous glint in your eyes.

Without waiting for permission, you slipped onto her lap, legs draped over one side, chest against hers, nuzzling your face into her neck. She let out a soft breath, and her hands instinctively landed on your bare thighs.

You shifted slightly, grinding your ass against her lap.

“You’re needy tonight,” she murmured.

“I miss you,” you whispered, voice feather-light against her ear. “And I’m so wet, Daddy… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Emily’s jaw tensed. She closed the file.

“Oh?” Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Show me.”

Your eyes sparkled as you leaned back just enough to pull your panties to the side, revealing slick, swollen lips. You were glistening, a shiny little mess just for her. Your folds were puffy, flushed with heat, and soaked enough to leave a wet patch on her slacks.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, the low growl in her throat making your toes curl. One hand cupped your pussy, fingers gliding effortlessly through the slickness. She smirked. “You’re dripping. All this just because I’ve been ignoring you?”

You nodded, lip between your teeth. “I hate when you’re busy.”

“Mmm. Poor baby.”

She slid one finger inside—slow, deliberate, curling just right. You gasped, clinging to her shoulders as your thighs trembled around her wrist.

“Such a tight little cunt,” she whispered, eyes locked on yours. “And so fucking needy. You like this, huh? Being fingered like a dumb little doll in Daddy’s lap?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimpered, breath catching as she added a second finger, pumping them deep and slow, thumb circling your clit in lazy, teasing strokes. Your pussy fluttered around her, greedy for more.

Her voice was gravel against your throat. “That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers. Make a mess. You wanted my attention and now you have all of it.”

You rocked your hips shamelessly, panting, moaning into her neck. The squelch of her fingers in your cunt filled the quiet room, obscene and wet and perfect. You were so close already, clenching hard around her with every thrust.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasped, “Please can I come—”

“Not yet,” she growled, curling her fingers so hard your back arched. “You’ll come when I say. Dumb little sluts don’t get to decide.”

You whimpered, nails digging into her shirt, your body twitching as she held you there—utterly ruined, dripping down her hand.

She licked the shell of your ear, voice wicked.

“You wanted attention, baby? I’m going to wreck you.”

Your thighs were shaking. The slow, steady rhythm of Emily’s fingers had you unraveling—wetness coating her knuckles, your panties bunched to the side and absolutely soaked.

“Daddy,” you whimpered again, voice barely a breath as your hips rolled desperately into her hand. “I—I can’t hold it…”

Her fingers didn’t stop. If anything, she fucked you harder. The wet slap of her palm against your pussy echoed in the quiet of the office, the obscene sound of your soaked cunt filling the space between you.

“Yes, you can,” she whispered against your ear, lips brushing your skin. “You will. You wanted this, baby. You crawled into my lap like a needy little cockdrunk slut, and now you’re going to take it.”

You moaned, high and whiny and shaking now. Your clit throbbed under the steady pressure of her thumb, and every curl of her fingers inside you hit that perfect, aching spot.

“Please,” you gasped. “Please let me come—Daddy, please—!”

She pulled you tighter against her, fingers buried deep, thumb circling faster now. Her voice dropped, low and hungry.

“Then come for me, baby. Be Daddy’s good girl. Let go.”

The words hit you like a strike to the core—hot, electric. Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and shattering. You cried out, loud and broken, pussy spasming around her fingers as waves of pleasure tore through you.

Emily held you there, working you through it—fingers still thrusting, her grip tight on your hip to stop you from writhing away. You sobbed into her shoulder, breath coming in stuttering gasps, body limp and twitching from the intensity.

“Fuck, baby,” she murmured into your hair, breath hot against your temple. “You made such a mess.”

You blinked through the haze, looking down to see her soaked hand, your arousal smeared across her palm, glistening under the warm office light.

Your cheeks flushed. Your pussy throbbed, still clenching around nothing.

Emily kissed your temple, slow and sweet, like you hadn’t just completely lost control in her lap.

“Now,” she said, lips brushing your ear, “you’re gonna kneel under my desk like a good little girl while I finish this file. And if you’re still wet down there—”

Her hand slid between your thighs again, fingers teasing over your overstimulated clit, making you jolt.

“—I’ll just have to help you come again.”

Your legs were still trembling when Emily’s hand slid down your spine, a gentle but commanding pressure pushing you off her lap.

“On your knees, baby. Under the desk.”

You moved clumsily, brain all fogged and pussy still pulsing from your orgasm. You crawled down between her legs, the plush carpet soft beneath your knees. Emily leaned back in her chair, spreading her thighs slightly as you settled into place.

She was so calm—reaching lazily for her paperwork like she hadn’t just made you come so hard you saw stars.

You nuzzled your cheek against her thigh, lips brushing the inside of her slacks. “Daddy… I still feel needy.”

She arched an eyebrow, glancing down at you. “You’re insatiable,” she muttered, but her tone was amused. And when she reached for the zipper of her slacks, your heart fluttered.

She slid them down just enough, black lace panties already clinging to her soaked pussy, a dark patch spreading from how wet she was now.

“Take them off with your mouth,” she ordered, voice like velvet wrapped around steel.

You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, teeth tugging her panties down slowly, your lips brushing against her slick skin, inhaling her scent—intoxicating. Your eyes fluttered shut as you dragged them down far enough to expose her glistening folds, her clit swollen and begging for attention.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, breath ghosting against her. “You smell so good, Daddy…”

She grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Then get to work, baby.”

You dove in greedily, flattening your tongue and licking a slow, filthy stripe up her slit. She hissed above you, her thighs twitching around your head as you suckled gently on her clit. The taste of her—salty, musky, perfect—had you grinding your thighs together, desperate to rub your own needy cunt on anything.

You moaned into her pussy, the vibrations making her hips jerk slightly.

“You’re so fucking messy,” she growled. “Licking me like a hungry little bitch. Does sucking Daddy’s pussy make you wet again?”

You nodded into her, mouth too full of her to speak. You circled your tongue around her clit, then sucked hard, dragging a raw moan from her chest.

Her grip tightened in your hair. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. You licked and sucked like it was your only purpose—tongue flicking her clit, then dipping down to fuck her tight hole, tasting the slick dripping out of her.

Emily’s moans grew sharper, breath ragged as she rocked her hips against your face. She used your mouth—fucked your face—and you let her. Eager, obedient, addicted to the way she tasted, the way her thighs clenched, the way she swore under her breath when you did just the right thing with your tongue.

“Right there,” she gasped, voice cracking. “Fuck, baby, don’t you dare stop—”

You sucked her clit hard and fast, feeling her thighs begin to tremble around your head. Her hips bucked forward, and with a strangled moan, she came—hard—grinding her pussy against your mouth, flooding your tongue with her slick.

You kept licking, soft and slow, helping her ride it out. When she finally eased her grip on your hair, you looked up at her with shining eyes, your chin soaked, lips swollen and wet.

She looked down at you—flushed, breathing heavy, utterly wrecked—and smirked.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over your face, baby.”

You smiled, dazed and proud. “Can I come again, Daddy?”

Her hand slipped under the desk, fingers dragging up your inner thigh.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, chest rising and falling with every breath. She still hadn’t fixed her slacks—her pussy glistened in the low light, spread and satisfied from the orgasm you’d just given her.

You were still kneeling between her legs, face flushed, chin slick with her cum, eyes blown wide and needy.

“Up,” she said, voice sharp but smooth. “Onto the desk. Now.”

You scrambled to your feet and climbed onto the cool wooden surface, lying back and spreading your legs like the obedient, cum-drunk little thing you were.

Emily stood, finally, and walked slowly toward the drawer on the far wall—the drawer. The one you knew held the toys she only brought out when she really wanted to ruin you.

She pulled it open with deliberate grace.

You swallowed hard. Your thighs pressed together in anticipation.

She turned, holding what you knew meant trouble—her favorite slimline vibrator, a sleek black dildo with a curve that hit just right, and the polished silver nipple clamps with those delicate little chains between them.

You whimpered.

“Already whining?” she teased. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I want it,” you gasped. “Want all of it, Daddy—please…”

Emily’s eyes darkened. “Hands above your head.”

You obeyed instantly, letting her climb onto the desk with you, straddling your waist. She leaned down and took one of your nipples between her fingers, toying with it until it peaked. Then, with the softest click, she clipped on the first clamp.

You gasped. It was sharp, but so good—just enough to make your pussy clench.

The second followed.

Now the chain dangled between your breasts, tugging gently as you breathed. The ache traveled straight between your legs.

Emily kissed your throat, then your collarbone. “So fucking pretty,” she murmured. “All pink and desperate, nipples clamped, legs open. My perfect little toy.”

She slid the vibrator between your thighs, brushing the tip against your slick folds.

You moaned, arching your back, and the clamps pulled. The added sting made you cry out again—more, needier.

Emily turned it on low, the gentle hum teasing over your clit. “You’re dripping again,” she whispered. “You came already, and you still want more. Filthy little slut.”

She slid the dildo in slowly.

You gasped—your pussy stretched around it, still sensitive, fluttering from your earlier orgasm. But she pushed it in deep, the curve hitting that aching, hungry spot inside you.

Then the vibrator settled firmly against your clit.

“Keep your hands above your head,” she warned, pinching your nipple clamp just enough to make you whimper.

And then she turned the vibe up.

The sensation shot through your entire body—tight pressure on your clit, fullness inside, sharp little aches from your nipples, all of it overwhelming. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, thighs trembling.

“Oh fuck—Daddy—”

“That’s it, baby,” she purred, rubbing the vibe in tight circles against your clit. “Come for me again. Be my dumb little cumtoy. Let Daddy ruin you.”

Your body tensed, mouth falling open. The pressure built so fast it made you sob, eyes tearing up from how good it felt—too much, not enough, perfect.

You screamed her name as your orgasm hit, gushing around the toy, legs shaking violently. The clamps tugged with every arch of your back, intensifying the pleasure.

Your body jerked helplessly as Emily didn’t let up—not even a little. She held the vibrator against your clit, kept the dildo thrusting slow and deep, merciless in your overstimulation.

“Daddy—please—I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” she growled, leaning down to kiss your trembling lips. “And you will. I want one more out of you. I want to feel you soaking the toy.”

You cried out, hips lifting again, unable to stop. You were drenched, slick dripping down to the desk, your voice broken and high and wrecked.

Another orgasm built, crashing into you even harder, making your legs kick and your hands clutch at the air, desperate to hold onto something—

You came again, screaming into the crook of her neck, body completely undone.

Emily finally pulled the toy away, slid the dildo out slowly, and unclipped the clamps one by one—massaging the sore peaks gently. The sting was sharp, but your pussy clenched at the release.

She lay beside you on the desk, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.

“There you go, baby,” she whispered. “That’s my perfect little fucktoy.”

You couldn’t speak. Just moaned, tears on your cheeks, lips parted and dazed.

Emily smiled. Kissed your forehead.

“Come on. Let’s get you in the bath. You’ve earned it.”

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.1 - january 5 2025 The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

hope people will find this, made a sideblog for this, havent used tumblr in a while, feel free to send any suggestions to improve the lay-out/blog etc. Also let me know if you think this chapter is too long. I've already written many parts so will update regularly if people like it.

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

wordcount: 2322

The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

You hadn’t seen your twin brother and Pietra in weeks, since they had decided to spent the holidays in Brazil, and you were itching to catch up. You also hadn’t seen the whole Norris family since Abu Dhabi, which had been an absolute blast. You’d meet up with Flo and Cisca regularly in London, having spent Christmas and New Years together, but the whole family being together was a rarity. This year felt extra special, though—it was the first time Dylan was coming along.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year had fit seamlessly into your life back home, and now he was finally meeting the entire crew. Max already got along with him like a house on fire, and you couldn’t wait for him to meet everyone else.

“Stil the same old place. Can’t wait to hit the slopes” Max said looking around with a grin. “You better teach me some sick board tricks this trip Dyl” he continued. “Only if you’re ready to fall on your ass,” Dylan shot back with a laugh. “Careful, Max is competitive,” you teased, they all laughed, Dylan was actually a professional snowboarder, making it that much funnier. 

The Fewtrells had arrived at the lodge first, giving you a chance to show Dylan around before everyone else got there. The house was as you remembered—wood-paneled walls, mismatched furniture, and warm fires crackling in every hearth.

“This is where you grew up skiing?” Dylan asked as you led him upstairs, his snowboard bag slung casually over his shoulder.

“Pretty much. Max and I used to share this room—” you pushed open a door, looking at him slyly, excited to share the room with him this time. The room smelled faintly of cedar, its twin beds still adorned with the same plaid comforters you’d had as kids.

“It’s nice,” Dylan said, setting his bag down and pulling you into his arms. “Cozy. Definitely feels like you.”

Before you could reply, his lips brushed yours, a warm and familiar kiss that made your heart flutter as his hands brushed through your hair, leading you towards the bed. Before things could go further, a loud voice broke the moment. “Fewtrell!” Cisca called from downstairs, followed by Flo’s laughter.

You turned, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Let’s go. You’ll love this chaos.”

Downstairs, the Norris family was filing in, luggage and snow-dusted boots piling up in the entryway. Lando appeared last, hauling a duffel bag with one hand and ski equipment in the other.

“Landooo!” you and Max called out in unison, both running to greet him.“Can’t even drop my stuff first?” Lando teased, dropping the bag with an exaggerated groan as you pulled him into a hug.“Ah, our world champion has arrived,” your dad said, stepping forward with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Lando. Well-deserved break, eh?” “Something like that,” Lando said, grinning as he accepted the handshake. “Nothing beats this place, though.”

“Lando, this is Dylan,” you said, gesturing between them. Dylan extended a hand. “Good to finally meet you. She’s told me a lot about you.” “All good things, I hope,” Lando replied with a polite smile, shaking his hand.“Mostly,” Dylan teased, earning a laugh from everyone. Max threw an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “You’re in for it now, Lando. Dylan’s a beast on the slopes. Red Bull-sponsored and everything.” “Oh, so I’m not the only sponsored athlete here?” Lando said, his tone light but with a playful edge. It was a miracle Max and Lando hadn’t killed each other yet, being as competitive as they are. Dylan grinned. “Guess not. Maybe we should race to see who’s faster.” “Careful what you wish for, even beat Red Bull this year” Lando shot back.

That night, as wine flowed and the parents went to bed early, the kids stayed up playing cards, laughing over inside jokes, and planning the next day’s ski routes.

—

The next morning, you woke to the sound of muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen and the faint smell of coffee brewing. Dylan was still sound asleep, his arm draped over your waist. Careful not to wake him, you slid out of bed, threw on a sweater, and made your way downstairs.

Max and Lando were already up, bundled in their ski gear, arguing over who would get to claim the fastest run of the day.

"Morning," Lando said, looking up from lacing his boots. His grin was warm and easy, the kind of smile that had been the same since he was a kid.

"Morning," you replied, grabbing a mug of coffee and leaning against the counter. "You two sound like you're gearing up for a war, not a ski day."

"It is a war," Max declared dramatically, waving a spatula he’d been using to flip pancakes. "Do you remember the incident of 2016?"

"How could I forget?" you said, laughing. "Lando sulking for hours after you beat his time."

"Exactly. Redemption arc starts today," Lando shot back, a playful glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. It was moments like these—carefree and full of banter—that reminded you why these trips meant so much.

After breakfast, you, Dylan, and the rest of the group gathered outside, ready to hit the slopes. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, the snow pristine under the morning sun. The energy was contagious, with everyone laughing and joking as they strapped into their skis or boards.

You and Lando split from the main group, both opting for skis while the others took their boards, eager to get tips from Dylan.

“Still as bad at snowboarding as you were at 12?” you teased as the two of you rode the lift up the mountain.

“Not everyone can be a prodigy like you,” Lando quipped, pretending to be offended. “Besides, I’d rather stick to what I’m good at—like beating you down this run.”

“You wish,” you shot back, nudging his arm as the lift slowed.

When you reached the top, it was as if no time had passed at all. Skiing with Lando had always been your thing, a tradition as old as the ski trips themselves. You raced down the slope, weaving between trees and laughing like kids again. At the bottom, you both collapsed into the snow, breathless and grinning.

“Still got it,” Lando said, brushing snow off his jacket.

“I let you win,” you replied, but your smile gave you away.

“I’ve missed this,” you said, lying back in the snow.

“What, losing to me?” Lando teased, throwing a handful of snow in your direction.

You took a break at a skilodge for drinks, glad it wasn’t crowded, texting the rest of the group to join them if they were close.

“It’s so weird how we haven’t actually caught up properly since Abu Dhabi,” you said, getting comfortable and sipping your drink.

— Abu Dhabi december 8 2024

The club was electric—music pulsing through the air, bodies packed tight, and the sharp tang of spilled drinks mingling with the faint scent of expensive cologne. It was the kind of night where everything felt larger than life, McLaren world championship, even as it blurred at the edges.

Lando wasn’t entirely sure how many drinks he’d had. Enough that the world tilted slightly, enough that his usual sharp instincts were dulled to a pleasant fuzziness. He wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, just letting himself float with the energy of the room.

That’s when he saw her.

She was by the bar, her hair catching the lights in a way that felt achingly familiar. Without even realizing it, his feet carried him toward her. The closer he got, the more the resemblance struck him.

“Hey” he called softly as he approached.

The girl turned, and for a moment, he was convinced it was her. But then she smiled—wide, flirtatious, not the kind of smile she would have given him—and he blinked, the illusion shattering.

It wasn't her. Not exactly. But the resemblance was uncanny enough to send a strange shiver through him.

Still, they started talking. She was funny in a way that felt effortless, her voice cutting through the pounding bass of the music. It wasn’t long before they moved to the dance floor, their movements fluid, fueled by alcohol and the frenetic energy of the night.

Somewhere in the haze of music and lights, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was brief but intoxicating, her lips soft and eager. For a moment, Lando let himself sink into it, into the rush of the night, the distraction she provided. But something far away tugged at the edge of his drunken consciousness.

“Lando!”

He pulled back sharply, turning to see Max weaving through the crowd toward him. His expression was one of mild exasperation but mostly confusion.

“Mate,” Max said, his voice slightly slurred, though his amusement was clear. He looked from Lando to the girl, then back again, his eyebrows shooting up. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Lando asked, putting his hands up in the air, suddenly self-defensive.

Max gestured at the girl, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you were kissing my sister! She looks like my sister. Like, exactly like my sister. But—” He looked at her again, his grin faltering. “Also not. It’s weird, mate.”

The girl frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. “Okay, rude.”

“No offense,” Max said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re gorgeous, but I mean, come on.” He turned to Lando, shaking his head. “How drunk are you right now?”

Lando blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up. He looked at the girl again, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Now that Max had pointed it out, the similarities felt too stark, too deliberate, explaining why it had felt weird.

“I wasn’t—” he started, but Max cut him off.

“Relax, mate,” Max said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I get it. Long season, wild night. Just...you know, maybe cool it before you confuse yourself more.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m getting a drink.” She disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them standing there.

Max watched her go, then turned back to Lando, his grin softening into something more understanding. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lando said quickly, still in a confused haze.

Max tilted his head, studying him for a moment before shrugging. “Let’s go find my real sister,” he said, steering Lando toward the other side of the club. “She’s way better company than, uh...that.”

Lando didn’t argue, but as they walked, his thoughts remained tangled. Max was right—the resemblance had been unsettling, bothering him for a moment until Max handed him another tequila shot.

—

Lando smirked. “Well, whose fault is that? You disappeared halfway through the after-party. Left me stranded with Max and his endless tequila shots.”

You laughed, holding your drink in both hands. “I didn’t disappear! I was there—you just didn’t see me because you were busy being... you know, Lando.”

“Excuse me,” he said, mock-offended. “What does that mean?”

“It means you were too busy making rounds like the social butterfly you are. Max told me you didn’t even remember half the night.”

Lando groaned, tipping his head back. “That’s fair. I think I blanked out the moment Christian Horner started karaoke.”

You grinned. “See? That’s why I disappeared. I had better things to do, like chatting with some of the Red Bull team.”

“Ah, fraternizing with the enemy,” Lando teased. “You’re lucky Max didn’t disown you.”

“Oh, Max was fine. But you know what?” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There was this moment… when I was talking to a certain very famous actor.”

“Who?” Lando asked, curious.

Your lips curved into a sly smile. “Not telling. But for just a second, I thought, Wow, if I weren’t with Dylan, this would be my chance.”

Lando froze mid-sip, raising a brow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Totally kidding,” you said quickly, though the grin didn’t falter. “Kind of. I mean, it’s not every day you get hit on by a Hollywood A-lister.”

Lando set his glass down, leaning forward. “Okay, now you have to tell me who it was.”

“Never,” you said, laughing. “I’ll take that secret to my grave. But don’t worry, Dylan has nothing to worry about. Besides, you were the one getting up to trouble that night.”

“Trouble?” he asked innocently.

You gave him a knowing look. “You know, with that girl who looked like me.”

Lando’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, come on. Max won’t let me live that down. And for the record, I wasn’t the one who said she looked like you. He did.”

“Still, Lando,” you said, shaking your head with a teasing smile. “That’s a bit weird, even for you.”

“Hey, I was drunk,” he defended, running a hand through his hair. “And she didn’t look that much like you.”

“She could’ve been my long-lost triplet!”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I wasn’t exactly seeing straight. You can blame Max and his tequila shots for the whole situation.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But if Max thinks you’re weird, you know it’s bad.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Remind me why I put up with you again?”

“Because you love me,” you quipped, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, clinking his glass with yours. You settled back into your seats, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence, both of you enjoyed, relaxed, content and tired after skiing.

—

Let me know what you think!!

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.2

Chapter Two: God, I’m Actually Invested

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This chapter has hella fluff and super funny/awkward moments. See you in the next one!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Risk by Gracie Abrams

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

The shuttle hummed along the narrow roads, and you found yourself squished between Archie and Rebecca, who were already up to no good.  

"So," Archie began, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned closer. "How was breakfast with your roomie?"  

Rebecca chimed in before you could answer, her tone dripping with faux innocence. "Yeah, did Pedro enjoy the toast you so lovingly made for him? Or was it the Nutella that won his heart?"  

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as your cheeks burned. "Guys, please."  

But they weren’t letting you off that easily. Archie grinned, elbowing you lightly. "Oh, come on. You’ve been living a rom-com dream, and we’re just trying to get the highlights."  

Rebecca nudged you with her shoulder, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Did he do the smolder? You know the one. The gaze that makes people forget how to breathe?"  

You laughed despite yourself, though it came out as more of a nervous squeak. "I don’t even know what you’re talking about."  

Archie gasped dramatically. "Oh, she knows! She definitely knows."  

By the time the shuttle pulled into the lot, your friends had teased you so mercilessly that you wanted to sink into the ground and never resurface. As everyone filed out, you clutched your bag tightly, muttering under your breath, "I’m never speaking to either of you again."  

Rebecca shot you a playful wink as she headed toward her department. "Sure you won’t. See you at lunch, Nutella Queen!"  

The chill of the morning air hit you as you walked toward the security checkpoint, clutching your ID badge. The sprawling Pinewood Studios stretched out before you like a labyrinth, its towering sound stages and bustling crew already alive with activity.  

"Badge, please," the guard said, snapping you out of your thoughts.  

You handed it over, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement flutter in your chest. Once cleared, you stepped inside, the sheer scale of the operation hitting you all at once.  

The first thing you noticed was the controlled chaos—carts loaded with equipment whizzing by, crew members calling out instructions, the smell of fresh paint from recently constructed sets. It was overwhelming in the best way.  

"Alright, team! Let’s get started," Jess Hall, the First AD, called out as she clapped her hands to gather everyone. She had a warm but commanding presence, her headset slung casually around her neck.  

You fell into step with the other production assistants, taking in every detail as Jess led the group on a whirlwind tour of the set.  

"This is the main soundstage," she said, gesturing to a cavernous building where scaffolding and green screens loomed high above the floor. "Props go over there. Catering is outside, past the trailers. And wardrobe is down that corridor—try not to get lost."  

Daniel, the head of props, gave you a quick nod as he walked by, holding a clipboard. "New PA?"  

"Yes," you managed, straightening up.  

"Good. Hope you’re ready to hustle," he said, his tone brisk but not unkind.  

You spent the morning darting from one task to the next—hauling equipment, labeling props, delivering coffee orders. It wasn’t glamorous, but there was something thrilling about being part of the organized chaos.  

At one point, you found yourself standing off to the side, flipping through the day’s call sheet. The sheer number of moving parts was dizzying. But when you glanced up and saw Pedro casually chatting with a director by the monitors, a soft smile on his face, the whirlwind slowed for just a moment.  

Your heart did a little flip.  

"Alright, focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you quickly returned to your tasks.  

The rest of the day passed in a blur of movement—helping manage background extras, untangling a web of cables, even holding up a light reflector when the gaffer was short-handed.  

By the time lunch rolled around, you were exhausted but strangely energized, a sense of accomplishment settling in as you sat with your friends in the cafeteria.  

Archie plopped down beside you with a tray full of food, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "So, how’s your first day as Pedro Pascal’s shadow?"  

You shot him a glare but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. "I’m not his shadow. I’m just… a very busy PA trying to survive her first day."  

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Sure, sure. But he noticed you, didn’t he?"  

You felt your cheeks warm, and your silence only made them laugh harder.  

"God, I hate you both," you muttered, though there was no real malice behind it.  

As you took another bite of your sandwich, you couldn’t help but glance across the room, where Pedro sat with the director and a few cast members. He caught your eye briefly, offering a small, almost imperceptible wave.  

Your stomach flipped again.  

And just like that, you were back to square one—completely flustered and wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.  

After lunch, you found yourself tucked into a quiet corner near the soundstage, the faint hum of set activity surrounding you. Propping the script against your knees, you scanned the pages intently, trying to map out how the scenes being shot here in London would flow before the production moved to Spain. The script’s intricate details and stage directions blurred slightly as you tried to piece it all together, scribbling quick notes in the margins.  

“Hey.”  

The voice startled you, and the script slipped from your hands, fluttering dramatically to the ground. You turned quickly, clutching your chest like it might stop your racing heart.  

“Jesus, Pedro!” you exclaimed, your voice a little too breathless for your liking.  

He grinned, that easy, boyish grin that made your stomach do flips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”  

“Oh, hi,” you mumbled, stepping out of the way instinctively, thinking he was just passing by. Your gaze darted down to the script at your feet, but before you could bend to retrieve it, Pedro was already leaning down to pick it up.  

“You okay?” he asked as he straightened, handing the slightly crumpled pages back to you. He was already dressed for the scene, hair and makeup done to perfection, though you knew the team would fuss over touch-ups throughout the day.  

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your fingers over the script as though smoothing it out would erase your flustered reaction. “Just, uh, reviewing the scenes for today.”  

Pedro tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his warm brown eyes. “Doing your homework, huh?”  

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to keep up. It’s my first day, and I don’t want to mess anything up.”  

He studied you for a beat, and the weight of his gaze made your cheeks flush. “You’re not going to mess anything up,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re doing great. Everyone can see it.”  

You let out a soft laugh, though your throat felt tight. “You’ve barely seen me all day. How would you know?”  

Pedro’s smile softened, and he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Because you’ve got that look. The one that says you care about getting it right.”  

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were painfully aware of how close he was. The faint scent of his cologne���something warm and woodsy—lingered in the air between you.  

“I... uh...” You trailed off, your brain scrambling for a coherent response.  

Pedro straightened, easing the tension with a light chuckle. “Don’t overthink it, okay? Just take it one task at a time. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”  

“Right. Thanks,” you managed, clutching the script a little tighter.  

“See you out there,” he said with a wink before turning to head toward the set, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your thoughts in a complete jumble. 

As he disappeared around the corner, you exhaled sharply, trying to pull yourself together. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath. But even as you said it, a small, traitorous smile tugged at your lips.

Matt’s voice cut through the buzz of the set as he called for quiet. The shift was immediate—crew members hushing their conversations and finding their marks. You moved to the side, watching as Pedro, Vanessa Kirby, Joseph Quinn, and Ebon Moss-Bachrach stepped into position. The air seemed to hum with anticipation as the cameras rolled, capturing the scene that unfolded before you.  

It was surreal, seeing them all perform together, their chemistry so natural it blurred the lines between fiction and reality. Pedro, in particular, commanded the screen with ease. His movements were deliberate, his voice carrying an emotional weight that made it impossible to look away.  

But then there was Vanessa.  

You hated how your eyes lingered on her, how that knot of jealousy twisted low in your stomach. She was magnetic, the way she played her role as Pedro’s onscreen wife. The way they exchanged glances, their body language speaking volumes—it was all part of the script, you knew that. Still, it didn’t stop the bitter sting of envy that crawled its way into your chest.  

Get a grip, you thought, forcing yourself to look away. This was her job. This was his job. And you? You were here to do yours, not to indulge in ridiculous fantasies. Pedro wasn’t your boyfriend, or your close friend. He wasn’t yours.  

You plastered on a neutral expression, the kind you’d perfected over the years, and focused on your work. Daisy, Lucy, and Omar were scattered across the set, handling their own assignments, while you found yourself helping out with props. It was tedious but grounding, giving you something to pour your restless energy into.  

“Cut!” Matt’s voice echoed across the soundstage.  

The tension broke, and the cast relaxed, the scene’s intensity giving way to casual chatter. You busied yourself with resetting the props, carefully arranging them for the next take.  

That’s when you noticed Coco Ullrich, Pedro’s hairstylist, stepping in to adjust his salt-and-pepper hair. She worked with practiced ease, her hands quick and efficient. Pedro leaned forward slightly to make her job easier, a soft laugh escaping him as they exchanged a few words you couldn’t quite hear.  

You smiled faintly, almost to yourself. Coco was excellent at her job—there was no denying that. And damn, did she make Pedro look good. Too good. You tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on the task in front of you, but the image of him sitting there, that effortless charm radiating off him, lingered in your mind.  

As you finished resetting a prop, you felt a presence beside you. Turning your head, you saw Daisy, her eyebrows raised and a knowing grin tugging at her lips. “Caught you staring,” she teased under her breath.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping into your cheeks. “I wasn’t staring.”  

“Sure,” she said with a soft laugh. “Totally believable.”  

“Shouldn’t you be working?” you shot back, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself.  

Daisy only shrugged, her grin widening. “I am. Observing human behavior is part of the job.”  

You huffed, but there was no real malice in it. “Get out of here, Daisy.”  

She winked before walking off, leaving you standing there, your thoughts once again circling back to Pedro.  

Professional, you reminded yourself. Keep it professional. But the traitorous smile pulling at your lips made you wonder how long you could keep up the facade.  

By the end of the day, exhaustion weighed heavily on you and the rest of the crew. The once-bustling set now buzzed with the quieter sounds of people packing up equipment, stifled yawns, and the occasional joke shared among friends.  

Daisy and Omar were tugging at a heavy camera dolly, grunting dramatically like it weighed a ton, though it clearly didn’t. “Are we sure this thing isn’t secretly an ancient artifact?” Omar huffed.  

“Definitely cursed,” Daisy deadpanned, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.  

You laughed, stepping in to help steady the dolly as they maneuvered it into place. “If it starts glowing, I’m out of here.”  

“Deal,” Daisy said, winking. “But you’re buying snacks if we survive.”  

With everything finally put away, Lucy tossed an arm around your shoulder. “We’re heading to the shuttle now. Don’t take too long, or we’re leaving you behind.”  

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, giving her a tired smile.  

As they made their way toward the bus, you stayed behind to gather your things, your movements slower now that the adrenaline of the day had worn off. You double-checked your clipboard, tucked your pen into your bag, and clocked out, ready to head to the shuttle when you heard it—your name, carried over the cool night air.  

You froze, frowning slightly as you turned toward the source. The voice was unmistakable, even from a distance. Pedro.  

He was standing near the trailers, surrounded by his castmates and friends. Vanessa was there, laughing at something Joseph said. Ebon stood casually with a coffee cup in hand, and Coco was still fussing with Pedro’s hair, though it seemed like more of a friendly habit than a professional necessity at this point.  

Pedro’s eyes were on you, a warm smile stretching across his face as he called out again, “Hey! Come here! I’ve got some people I want you to meet!”  

Your eyes widened in shock, your mind immediately racing with possibilities. He means someone else, right? You turned your head slightly, glancing behind you, half-expecting someone else to step forward. But there was no one.  

You pointed at yourself, mouthing, Me?  

Pedro nodded, his grin growing wider. “Yes, you! Come on!”  

Your stomach flipped. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You stood there, gaping for a moment before realizing you couldn’t exactly ignore him. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and started walking toward the group, your palms inexplicably sweaty despite the crisp evening air.  

As you got closer, the chatter among the group quieted slightly, their attention shifting toward you. Pedro’s gaze didn’t waver, and it was both reassuring and unnerving.  

“Hey, everyone,” Pedro said as you arrived, his tone casual but full of warmth. “This is the PA I was telling you about. She’s been a lifesaver on set today.”  

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced down at your bag, gripping it tighter. “Oh, uh, I’m just doing my job,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Vanessa smiled at you, her expression kind. “Pedro’s been singing your praises all day. It’s nice to finally meet you.”  

Your heart stuttered. Singing my praises? You glanced at Pedro, who shrugged nonchalantly, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed him.  

“You’re really making me look good here,” you said quietly, trying to keep your tone light, though your nerves were anything but.  

Pedro chuckled, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “You don’t need my help with that.” 

And just like that, your stomach flipped again, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“So, um, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice steadier than you expected, though your nerves still lingered just beneath the surface.  

Pedro tilted his head toward you, his grin softening into something more casual. “Well, we were just talking, and I had an idea. Since we’re heading back to the same place and you’re my roommate, why not ride with us? It’d save you time, and you wouldn’t have to deal with being the last one dropped off on the other shuttle.”  

You blinked at him, your mind racing to catch up. “Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said quickly, shaking your head.  

Before Pedro could respond, Vanessa waved her hand dismissively. “Impose? Please, it’s not imposing. You’re coming with us. No arguments.”  

Joseph chimed in, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Yeah, you’ll make our little carpool a lot more fun. Pedro can’t keep us entertained on his own, you know.”  

“Hey!” Pedro protested with mock indignation, his hand resting dramatically over his heart.  

Ebon smirked. “He’s right, though. You’d be doing us all a favor.”  

Your cheeks warmed under their collective encouragement, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t know…”  

Coco stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. We’ve got room, and it makes sense. Plus, Pedro already vouched for you.”  

You glanced at Pedro, whose expression was a mix of amusement and something else—something softer. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was so earnest it nearly knocked the breath out of you.  

“See? Everyone’s on board,” Pedro said, his tone coaxing but playful. “It’s settled.”  

Still hesitant, you glanced at the group again, their smiles and easy camaraderie somehow making you feel like you belonged. Finally, you exhaled and nodded. “Okay, fine. If you’re sure I’m not a burden…”  

“You? A burden?” Vanessa said, laughing. “Girl, please.”  

Pedro grinned, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Great. Let’s get going, then.”  

As the group began moving toward the car, you found yourself walking next to Pedro. Your nerves hadn’t completely settled, but there was something about the way he glanced at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in a barely contained smile, that made you feel a little lighter.  

“You okay?” he asked quietly, just for you to hear.  

You nodded, the corners of your own lips curving upward despite yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”  

“Good,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Because you’re gonna have a great time with us. Promise.”  

And for a moment, you let yourself believe him.

The large black van hummed softly as you climbed in, sliding into the seat by the window. Pedro followed closely behind and settled beside you, his arm brushing yours in the close quarters. You murmured a polite greeting to the driver, Luis, who nodded warmly in return, his easy smile a comforting contrast to the whirlwind of emotions currently swirling inside you.  

As the rest of the cast filled the van with their chatter and laughter, you sat rigidly, your back pressed against the seat. The reality of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Pedro—and a group of celebrities you’d only ever admired from afar—was almost too much. You gripped your phone tightly, the faint glow illuminating your slightly shaky fingers as you sent a quick text to your friends:  

You: "Don’t wait for me. Got a ride with Pedro and the cast." 

The group chat exploded almost instantly, messages popping up one after the other:  

"WHAT?! 😳" 

"OOOOOHHHHHH" 

"Pics or it didn’t happen!"

You barely had time to cringe at their excitement before Pedro shifted beside you, leaning just enough to catch a glimpse of your screen.  

“Group chat drama?” he teased, his voice low and amused.  

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly locked your phone, clutching it tightly in your lap. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, staring determinedly out the window.  

Pedro chuckled softly, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to press. “Sure, nothing.”  

You said nothing in return, choosing instead to focus on the passing streetlights outside. They blurred together, golden streaks in the night, as the van glided smoothly through the London streets. The gentle hum of the engine and the occasional burst of laughter from the group provided a soundtrack to your inner turmoil.  

Every nerve in your body was acutely aware of Pedro’s presence beside you—the way his shoulder occasionally bumped yours when the van turned, the warmth radiating from him despite the evening chill. You wanted to relax, to laugh along with everyone else, but the overwhelming awareness of where you were and who you were with kept your pulse racing.  

“You okay over there?” Pedro asked softly, his tone laced with concern now, his earlier teasing gone.  

You glanced at him, startled by the question, and saw his brow furrowed slightly, his gaze steady and sincere.  

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, offering a small, tight smile.  

Pedro didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide. “You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt out of here any second.”  

That earned a genuine laugh from you, albeit a quiet one. “I’m just... not used to this, I guess.”  

“This?”  

You gestured vaguely to the van, the people around you, and finally, to him. “All of this.”  

Pedro smiled, a slow, disarming smile that softened his whole face. “You’ll get used to it. And if you don’t, I’ll make sure to keep you grounded.”  

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time that night, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease, if only slightly. The streetlights outside continued to blur, but now, your focus lingered on the quiet presence beside you—the warmth, the humor, and the unspoken reassurance he offered without even trying.  

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The hotel restaurant buzzed softly with the hum of conversations and the faint clinking of cutlery against plates. The warm, golden light illuminated the room, casting everything in an inviting glow. You had planned to make a quiet escape after dropping your bag off in your room, hoping to have a solitary dinner away from the star-studded company you had spent the day with. But Pedro had other plans.  

You’d barely made it three steps toward the elevators when you felt a familiar warmth against the small of your back. “Not so fast,” Pedro murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned just slightly into your ear.  

“Pedro, I—” you began, only to be met with his wide, unapologetic grin.  

“Come on, you can’t bail on us now. We’re starving, and it wouldn’t be the same without you,” he said, his hand gently guiding you toward the restaurant where the others were already gathering.  

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his voice, paired with the warmth of his touch, left you little room to argue. “Fine,” you sighed, though the butterflies in your stomach betrayed how little resistance you’d actually put up.  

The long wooden table in the center of the restaurant was filled with chatter and laughter by the time you arrived. Joseph and Ebon were in the middle of some animated story, Vanessa leaned in with a knowing smirk, and Coco was shaking her head with an exasperated smile. When Pedro led you to an empty seat beside him, all eyes turned toward you.  

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Vanessa said, her tone teasing but not unkind.  

“Had to drag her here,” Pedro chimed in, his grin making the table erupt in laughter.  

You sank into the seat, cheeks burning. “I wasn’t trying to escape,” you lied unconvincingly.  

“Sure, sure,” Joseph teased, winking at you from across the table. “Pedro’s got a sixth sense for these things, doesn’t he?”  

“Like a bloodhound,” Ebon added, making everyone laugh again.  

Despite your initial nerves, the warmth of the group quickly put you at ease. The conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from behind-the-scenes mishaps to favorite restaurants in London. At one point, Vanessa and Coco started playfully debating whether Pedro’s hair looked better tousled or slicked back for the shoot, dragging you into the conversation.  

“Well?” Vanessa asked, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What do you think?”  

You nearly choked on your water. “Oh, I, um...” You glanced at Pedro, who was leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying your discomfort.  

“Go on,” he prompted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can take it.”  

Finally, you sighed, trying to suppress your smile. “Tousled,” you admitted, earning a triumphant cheer from Vanessa and Coco.  

Pedro mock-gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Betrayed! By my own roommate, no less.”  

“Hey, she’s got taste,” Joseph said, raising his glass in a toast to you.  

The playful banter continued, and by the time the entrees arrived, you were fully immersed in the group’s easy camaraderie. Pedro made sure to refill your glass whenever it was low and nudged the breadbasket toward you without a word when he noticed you eyeing it.  

At one point, you caught him watching you as you laughed at something Joseph said. His expression was soft, fond, like he was memorizing the way you looked in that moment. You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped, focusing instead on the warmth of the room and the laughter surrounding you.  

When the desserts arrived—indulgent, towering plates of tiramisu and molten chocolate cake—you couldn’t help but sigh contentedly. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “This was better than eating alone.”  

Pedro’s grin was slow and knowing. “Told you so.”  

The night stretched on, and by the time the group began to disperse, your cheeks ached from smiling so much. As you stood to leave, Pedro fell into step beside you, his hand once again finding the small of your back.  

“See? Not so bad being part of the group, is it?” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.  

You glanced up at him, your heart fluttering at the closeness. “No,” you admitted with a shy smile. “Not bad at all.”  

After dinner, the group, full from good food and endless laughter, made their way to the elevator. One by one, everyone headed off to their respective floors, each exit marked with cheerful goodnights and playful teasing.

“You two behave!” Vanessa teased as she stepped off on her floor, her smirk lingering even as the doors slid shut behind her.

The elevator continued its ascent, and soon enough, it was just you and Pedro left. The quiet settled between you, comfortable but charged, the kind that made you hyperaware of every breath, every shift.

“Guess it’s just us,” Pedro said, his voice warm, his eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint.

“Guess so,” you replied softly, clutching the strap of your bag tighter.

When the elevator dinged on your floor, Pedro followed you out. It wasn’t unusual at this point—you were, after all, sharing a room—but somehow, tonight, the knowledge made your chest tighten. You fumbled for your keycard as you both walked down the hallway, your steps in sync.

“Still weird sharing a room with me?” Pedro asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

You shot him a look, trying to hide your flustered state. “Not weird,” you said, unlocking the door. “Just... different.”

He grinned as you pushed the door open, stepping aside to let him in first. “Different how?”

“Different as in, I don’t usually share my personal space with someone famous,” you quipped, hoping to steer the conversation away from the real answer—how utterly nerve-wracking it was to be so close to him.

Pedro chuckled, tossing his jacket onto the back of the chair in the common area. “Relax, I’m not that famous,” he teased, kicking off his shoes as he settled onto the couch with the ease of someone used to this.

You scoffed, setting your bag down on the small dining table near the kitchenette. “Says the guy whose face is plastered all over my TikTok For You page.”

He paused mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Oh, really? Your For You page?”

You groaned, regretting saying anything. “Don’t get a big head about it,” you muttered, trying to sound casual as you rifled through your bag for your phone charger.

“Oh, this is rich,” he said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “What kind of edits are we talking about? Romantic montages? Thirst traps? Tell me everything.”

You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes. “I’m not feeding your ego, Pedro.”

But he was already grinning like a kid at Christmas. “You definitely watch them,” he teased. “Don’t lie—I can see it all over your face.”

You tried to glare, but the warmth in his tone made it impossible. “I’m not talking about this,” you said firmly, grabbing your charger and heading toward your room in the suite.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he called after you. “But I know.”

Shaking your head, you plugged in your phone on the nightstand. The suite was nice—two separate bedrooms connected by the shared living space. But even with the privacy of your room, the knowledge that Pedro was just a few steps away left you feeling... unsettled in the best way.

When you reentered the common area, Pedro was stretched out on the couch, flipping idly through TV channels. He glanced up when you walked in, his grin softening into something warmer.

“Just Pedro,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He tilted his head, intrigued. “What’s that?”

You hesitated, sitting down on the armchair across from him. “It’s just... you say it like it’s supposed to make things easier. Like, ‘I’m just Pedro.’ But it doesn’t. It makes things harder.”

Pedro sat up then, his attention fully on you. “Harder how?”

Your hands twisted in your lap, nervous but too deep in it now to stop. “Because it makes it harder to pretend this isn’t a big deal. Sharing a space like this with you.”

The room fell quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater. Pedro’s expression softened, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Good,” he said simply, his voice warm and steady. “Because I don’t want you to pretend.”

You blinked, your heart racing at his words. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like this,” he replied, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I like having you here. Even if it’s... different.”

Your lips parted, a response on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out. The way he looked at you—steady, unguarded—made your chest ache.

“Me too,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible.

Pedro leaned back with a satisfied grin, the tension easing as he grabbed the remote again. “Well, since we’re both stuck here, how about a movie before bed?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Fine. But nothing loud or action-packed. I need calm.”

“Deal,” he said, smirking as he flipped through the channels. “But if I fall asleep halfway through, it’s your fault.”

And just like that, the weight in the room lifted, replaced by something quieter, something softer. The shared space between you felt a little less daunting, a little more like something you could both hold onto—whatever this was, whatever it could be.

End Notes:

Ya'll apparently like this fic! Thank you so much for the support huhu T^T

I’d like to give a shout out to google and reddit for aiding me in my research for this fic LMAO

I know little to nothing when it comes to production. I know the basic stuff cause of my course. (We had a class on how to plan events and stuff. I figured it’s somewhat similar.)

I’m having a blast coming up with possible scenarios with these two, the possibilities rn seem endless.

Based on research and testimonies from people who have worked with Pedro, they all mention how down-to-earth he is and how he cares for everyone on set and tries his best to know the crew. What a sweetheart 🥹🤍

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 3

paige x azzi

warning: mentions car accident

word count: 10.3k

A/N: I have literally never written anything like this so I hope it comes across correctly. I swear some of your answers are in this chapter just be patient. Let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

3rd Person POV - Friday

The morning light filtered softly through the hotel curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Azzi blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the bright rays filing in, slowly waking her up to the quiet stillness of the room. Her gaze naturally drifted to Paige, who was still fast asleep beside her, the steadiness of her breathing reflecting her deep slumber.

Azzi watched her for a moment, taking in the sight of her in a way she hadn’t been able to before. The blanket had shifted considerably, low on Paige’s waist, and she was lying on her stomach, her hair a little messy on the pillow. Azzi’s gaze softened as she noticed how naturally beautiful Paige was, the little details that made her feel more real, more alive. The sunlight caught in Paige’s hair, highlighting certain strands that framed her face, even in her sleep.

Her eyes traced the sharpness of Paige's jaw, the arch of her nose, the curve of her lips that were relaxed in slumber. As Azzi looked at her she noticed that there was a scar, small and barely visible, near Paige's hairline. Azzi’s finger itched to trace it, to figure out the story associated with it, but she stayed still, careful not to disturb her. The quiet intimacy of the moment was too precious to ruin with a thoughtless action like that.

Her gaze moved lower, her eyes looking at the scar on Paige’s torso—the one from last night. It was more visible when Paige was facing her, but now, with her turned on her stomach, Azzi could only make out a small portion of it, curving along her side and reaching toward her back just slightly.

In the stillness, Azzi felt the weight of the moment, the growing sense of curiosity she had about Paige. She realized, then, just how little she truly knew about her—the person she had shared what felt like many lingering moments with in the past few days. Still, there were so many layers left to explore, so much left to understand.

It wasn’t lost on Azzi how much she wanted to know, how much she yearned to unravel the mysteries that Paige held beneath the surface. It felt like the beginning of something important, something bigger than just a random night in a hotel room. For now, though Azzi was content to just be here, beside her, breathing in the quietness of the morning as she gathered her thoughts.

Azzi lay there for a moment longer, watching Paige as she slept, it was all so peaceful. It felt weird, she could’ve stayed in that moment forever, but after a while, Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Paige. She slowly reached over the edge of the bed to grab her phone from her pocket, making sure not to make too much noise.

She unlocked it and couldn’t help but chuckle when she saw a text from Caroline pop up first: You still alive? Hope it was good.” Azzi typed a reply, “Yes, I’m alive and please relax.” A few more notifications popped up and Azzi spent a few minutes responding, her fingers moving across the screen.

The next time she glanced over at Paige, she noticed the subtle shift in her posture. Paige’s eyelids fluttered a little, and the quiet signs of waking up were starting to show. Azzi couldn’t help but smile to herself, lowering her phone as Paige slowly began to blink her eyes open.

Paige squinted slightly, clearly still adjusting to the morning light that filtered in through the window. Her eyes, that seemed to be a deeper blue with the way the sun was hitting them, met Azzi’s, a soft glimmer of awareness and curiosity in them. There was something so serene about the way Paige looked at her, a sense of familiarity already settling in, even though they had only known each other for such a short time.

Paige stretched a little, still blinking as she finally spoke in a raspy morning voice, “Morning.” She looked at Azzi for a beat longer, still processing the shift from sleep to reality.

Azzi couldn’t help but grin, the corners of her mouth moving upward as she replied, “Morning. You look like you just got out of a coma.”

Paige’s lips twitched, her eyes still half-lidded as she fought a smile. “Yeah? You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Azzi laughed softly, the moment between them feeling more natural than anything they had shared before. The tension that had once seemed so thick between them now seemed to have lifted, replaced with something lighter.

Paige’s gaze flickered to Azzi’s phone, still in her hand. “Telling your friends how good I was already?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Sure something like that,” she replied playfully. She lowered the phone and moved it to the side before she turned back to Paige. “So, how’d you sleep?”

Paige stretched once more, the slight stretch of her body revealing more of the scar near her side that Azzi had seen the night before.

"Like a rock," Paige said, her voice still a little horse. "You?" she asked, turning to Azzi who had the sheet covering her chest.

Azzi chuckled. "Yeah, better than I’ve slept in a while."

Paige kept her gaze fixed on Azzi, still lying there with her head on the pillow. "So, what now?"

Azzi smiled a little, the corners of her lips curling up. "I was hoping you'd know."

Paige returned the smile, raising an eyebrow. "Me? I thought you were the one with all the answers."

Azzi shrugged, not answering right away. Instead, she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "What time is your flight?"

"6:15," Paige replied.

Azzi hummed quietly, not saying anything else for a moment as she just looked straight ahead. Paige, still looking at her, propped her head up with her hand, studying Azzi’s profile as her eyes danced over Azzi’s face.

Azzi shifted slightly, meeting Paige’s gaze again. "Stop looking at me like that."

Paige grinned. "Like what?"

Azzi let out a soft sigh. "Like you just had sex with me last night."

Paige laughed softly, the sound completely unguarded. "I did have sex with you last night."

Azzi smirked, shaking her head completely at a loss for words. The atmosphere between them felt so easy.

Randomly Azzi says, “Tell me something about you.”

Paige chuckled as she sat up, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s. “What do you want to know?” she asked, her amusement with the question clear.

Azzi shrugged, her brown eyes warm but curious. “Anything.”

Paige thought for a moment, tilting her head slightly before offering, “Um…Well I’m 22.”

Azzi immediately cut in, unimpressed. “That’s boring, and I already know that.”

Paige laughed. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azzi smirked, motioning for her to continue. “Alright, go on.”

Paige licked her lips, thinking for another second before continuing, “I’m 22. My birthday is October 20th. Um… I like purple.” She trailed off, her mind suddenly blank on what else to add.

Azzi gave her an exaggerated look before deadpanning, “Wow. I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

Paige scoffed, shoving Azzi’s arm playfully. “Shut up.”

Azzi grinned, shaking her head. “I’m serious, that was definitely life-changing information.”

Before Paige could respond her phone ringing cut off her thought process, making both Paige and Azzi glance toward the desk where it was sitting. Paige sighed before pushing herself up, stretching her arms over her head as she walked over in just her boxers and sports bra. Azzi’s eyes lingered for a moment, biting her lip slightly as she took in the way the light outlined the toned muscles of her back.

Paige glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hello.”

Azzi stayed in bed, half-listening as she tried to piece together the conversation once she heard Geno’s voice. She could hear his voice through the speaker, though not clearly enough to make out every word. Something about wanting Paige to come by campus for a bit before her flight since she didn’t have much time to officially meet the team and hangout with them yesterday. Paige hummed in response here and there, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk when she noticed Azzi watching her.

Paige hung up a few moments later, still smiling as she turned back toward the bed. Before she could explain, Azzi’s phone started ringing. She frowned when she saw Geno’s name on the screen, glancing at Paige, who shrugged before disappearing into the bathroom.

Azzi exhaled and answered. “Hey, Coach.”

“Paige is coming to campus in about 20 minutes. I’m sending her your number so she can call you when she gets there. Make sure she feels comfortable,” Geno instructed, his voice casual yet expectant.

Azzi bit back a smile even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I got it. Don’t worry.”

Geno seemed satisfied with that and ended the call. Azzi sighed, tossing her phone on the bed before standing up and stretching. While looking for her shirt her eyes landed on Paige’s black oversized shirt from yesterday, thrown over the chair. Without thinking much of it, she grabbed it and slipped it on. It was small, but she caught a faint trace of Paige’s scent on the fabric and it felt strangely intimate. As if they hadn’t just woken up in the same bed.

She walked toward the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as she watched Paige brush her teeth.

Paige caught Azzi’s reflection in the mirror, her gaze flickering down to the black shirt draped over Azzi’s frame before meeting her eyes again. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she mumbled through the toothpaste, “Looks good on you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, shifting her weight against the doorframe. “Please don’t start.”

Paige chuckled, spitting into the sink before rinsing her mouth. She turned around, leaning back on the counter as she reached for the towel. “I’m just saying.”

Azzi scoffed, but there was a slight tug at her lips, betraying what she was about to say. “Don’t get used to it.”

Paige just smirked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Azzi like she knew something she wasn’t saying. Azzi held her gaze for a moment before shaking her head, pushing off the doorframe. “Hurry up,” she said, turning back toward the bed. “I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late.”

Paige watched her go, her smirk still lingering as she wiped her face.

Paige walked out of the bathroom and settled for throwing on a hoodie and a pair of sweats. Turning back toward the bed, she grabbed an extra pair of sweatpants and some boxers and tossed them to Azzi.

Azzi caught them easily saying. “Thank you,” as she slipped them on.

Once they were both ready and Azzi grabbed all of her clothes, they stepped out of Paige’s room.

When they got outside there was a slight breeze as they made their way to Caroline’s car. Azzi unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat while Paige got in the passenger seat, a lingering smile still tugging at her lips.

Azzi caught the look and sighed, shaking her head as she started the car. “You’re still smirking.”

Paige shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look before exhaling a small laugh. “You don’t have to, it's litrally all over your face.”

Paige chuckled but didn’t say anything else, letting the conversation fade into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the car filling the space between them as they drove toward campus.

When they arrived, Azzi pulled into Caroline’s usual parking spot and turned off the engine. They stepped out, making their way up the stairs to Azzi’s suite.

The second Azzi pushed open the door, she was met with Caroline and Ice lounging on the couch. Both of them took one look at her, eyes dropping to the clothes in her hand before flicking to the shirt and sweats she was wearing. Matching smirks immediately spread across both of their faces.

Azzi paused for half a second before exhaling through her nose, already regretting the situation.

Paige followed, moving into view just enough to lift a hand in a wordless acknowledgment. Ice and Caroline’s eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting to see her here, both of them thankful they kept their mouths shut for a second.

Azzi kept her expression neutral as she said, “Geno wants us all to hang out with her today before she leaves.”

They both nodded, but the smirks never left their faces. Azzi didn’t entertain it, instead glancing at Paige for a second. She immediately noticed the shift—how Paige’s energy had seemed to dim. Her entire demeanor was more reserved now, quieter, a stark contrast to how she’d been that morning in the hotel of just moments ago in the car.

Azzi frowned slightly before saying, “You can just come with me until the rest of them get here.”

Paige met her eyes briefly before nodding, following Azzi deeper into the suite and into her room.

When they got to Azzi’s room, she shut the door behind her while Paige settled into the chair in front of her desk. Azzi moved to her closet, tossing her clothes inside before straightening up and turning back toward Paige.

Paige was looking around, taking in the space with quiet curiosity. Azzi leaned against the closet door, watching her for a moment before asking, “Is it what you expected?”

Paige glanced at her and nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

Azzi chuckled, grabbing her phone and sending a message to the group chat, telling them all to come to her suite courtesy of Geno. Almost instantly, the message started getting likes, but she didn’t linger on it. Placing her phone down, she looked back at Paige.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go brush my teeth and make myself presentable,” Azzi said.

Paige gave a small nod, and with that, Azzi slipped out of the room, making sure she shut the door behind her.

Left alone, Paige let out a soft exhale, her gaze drifting across the room until it landed on a corkboard hanging on the wall. It was filled with pictures—Azzi’s life in high school and college. Paige leaned forward slightly, eyes tracing over the pictures, and before she realized it, a small smile had formed on her lips.

When Azzi returned from the bathroom, her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. She shut the door behind her again and moved to lean against the desk, standing just a few inches from where Paige was sitting, her leg brushing against Paige’s knee.

Paige glanced up at her, eyes flicking to her hair before smirking slightly. “Cute.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Me or the bun?”

Paige shrugged. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the way her lips twitched. “You’re lucky you’re charming.”

Paige leaned back in the chair, spreading her legs a bit more. “I know.”

Azzi gave her a look, smiling at her. “Oh, you’re back now, huh?”

Paige tilted her head. “Back?”

Azzi motioned toward the door with her chin. “You got a little stoic out there.”

Paige exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Just wasn’t in the mood to be the center of attention first thing in the morning to strangers.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before nudging her knee with her own. “Well, it’s just us now.”

Paige grinned up at her. “Yeah?” Paige licked her lips as she looked up at Azzi, “So what you wanna do about it?”

Azzi shook her head, biting her lip slightly to stop a smile. “I should’ve left you in the hotel.”

Paige chuckled, tilting her head back against the chair as she looked up at Azzi. “Too late now.”

“Unfortunately.”

Paige kept her eyes on Azzi, her gaze unwavering. It made Azzi shift slightly, the intensity of it throwing her off.

“Stop,” Azzi muttered

Paige raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"

"You’ve had that look on your face since you woke up."

Paige just hummed in response, the smirk never leaving her lips as she continued looking up at Azzi.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking?”

Paige slouched further against the chair, her legs spread slightly, and lazily shook her head. “No.”

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, just studied her, trying to decipher whatever was running through her mind. Paige, still lounging effortlessly, absentmindedly started playing with the hem of her shirt that Azzi was wearing.

Azzi glanced down at her hand before raising an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she swatted Paige’s hand away.

Paige scoffed at the action.

From down the hall, the sound of voices grew louder, the unmistakable clamor of the team filling the suite.

“I think the team’s here,” Azzi murmured, straightening up from the desk as she glanced toward the door.

Paige didn’t respond. Instead she took a moment before she stood up, immediately in Azzi’s space—close enough that Azzi could feel the warmth radiating off her. They both noticed the closeness but neither of them moved, locked in a quiet stare.

Azzi looked Paige up and down with a small smirk playing on her face. “You know if you want to–”

KK’s voice rang out through the suite and interrupted whatever Azzi was about to say, “Azzi, stop hogging the recruit!”

Azzi chuckled, while Paige simply exhaled through her nose. Without a word, she stepped back, casually shoving her hands into her pockets before following Azzi out of the room.

As they stepped out of Azzi’s room, the noise in the suite became more apparent. The team was already gathered, everyone lounging in comfortable clothes—sweats, sweatshirts, sneakers—looking relaxed. No one made any formal introductions again, but the moment Paige stepped into the living room, the attention shifted to her. They all greeted her, some with friendly smiles and others with more playful words trying to immediately make her feel comfortable, but the ease of the atmosphere didn’t seem to reach Paige fully as she sat down on the couch and Azzi walked to the other side of the room.

As soon as Paige sat down KK took a seat next to her, KK’s natural energy radiating off of her as she looked at Paige. “So,” KK said, trying to strike up a conversation, “What makes you not boring like everybody else? Gimme something good.”

Paige glanced over at her, her lips curling up in a small, reserved smile. “Um, I don’t know,” she said, shrugging slightly. “I play basketball. That’s pretty much it.”

KK groaned but pressed on. “Okay, but what do you like to do when you’re not playing? There has to be something interesting about you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away, her gaze flicking to the others in the room as if searching for something to latch onto. Finally, she let out a breath and gave a half-smile, her eyes momentarily flicking back to Azzi who was standing by the counter. “I don’t have much time for hobbies these days honestly. Mostly just rehab and working out, been doing a lot of visits and when I’m not doing any of those I watch my team practice. Homework I don’t know.”

Aubrey nodded, chiming into the conversation. “That’s fair,” she said. “But I mean, everyone has something outside basketball, right? You like any movies or music? Come on, give us something. You sound like a robot dawg.”

Paige’s jaw tightened slightly, and she leaned back a little more on the couch, her posture still casual but distant. “I mean yeah I like music. R&B, mostly, a little of everything though” she replied, her voice steady but a little guarded.

The conversation kept going, but it was clear that Paige wasn’t opening up much. She was here physically, but emotionally she was closed off. There was confidence in her responses—no hesitation, no awkwardness—but not much more. She didn’t offer much beyond what was necessary to keep the conversation moving or to answer direct questions they asked her.

Azzi caught the shift in Paige’s demeanor the moment she looked over and saw Paige staring off into space, her finger absentmindedly spinning the ring on her hand. It was subtle, but Azzi noticed. Azzi pushed off the counter, excusing herself from the conversation with Ashlynn and Jana, and made her way over to where Paige was sitting on the couch.

She lowered herself into the seat next to her, close enough that their legs brushed together.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

Paige blinked, breaking out of her thoughts, and her eyes slowly shifted over to Azzi. A faint smile appeared on her face. She shook her head. “Nothing much.”

Azzi didn���t buy it. “I don’t believe you,” she said simply.

Paige chuckled, a small and unconvincing sound, before her gaze shifted back to the group as the noise around them seemed to fill the air.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Paige quickly shook her head. “Not uncomfortable, just… not much to say really.”

Azzi muttered under her breath, almost too quietly to hear, but Paige caught it. “You sure had a lot to say last night.”

Paige chuckled at this, tilting her head slightly as she met Azzi’s gaze. “I don’t think you wanna get into that with me right now,” she murmured.

Azzi held her gaze, her lips twitching, but before either of them could push further, a voice cut through the moment.

“Yo, Paige!” Aubrey called from across the room.

Paige let the stare linger for a second longer before finally tearing her eyes away, turning toward Aubrey. “Yeah?”

“How tall are you?” Aubrey asked, her expression unreadable.

Paige blinked, thrown off by the random question. “Six foot.”

Aubrey nodded. “You can shoot?”

Paige huffed a small laugh, still confused but playing along. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Aubrey simply nodded again and went right back to her conversation, as if she hadn’t just stopped the room to ask.

Paige frowned slightly, looking over at Azzi, who just shrugged.

Paige’s time with the team went like this for about another hour—mostly talking to Azzi, though every now and then, someone would chime in with a random question that Paige would answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to talk to people. She just didn’t do well with new people, with people she didn’t know. Simply because she didn’t like small talk much. It was one of her pet peeves that had formed some time ago when her step mom would force her to talk through the pain in her ribs with pointless questions and comments.

After a few hours of chilling with the team it was time for Paige to head back to her hotel so she could go to the airport. She stretched slightly as she stood up, glancing at Azzi, who was already watching her.

“You heading out?” Azzi asked.

Paige nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Paige didn’t argue, just slipped her hands into her pockets as she followed Azzi toward the door bidding goodbye to everyone before they walked out.

The two of them stood outside waiting for Paige’s uber not saying much. Paige rocked back on her heels, hands in her pockets, glancing at Azzi, who was leaning against the railing, arms crossed.

Azzi glanced at Paige. “So.”

Paige smiled softly, tilting her head. “So.”

Azzi exhaled, watching her carefully. “When are you making your decision?”

“I have to visit a few more schools first,” she admitted. “But soon.”

Azzi hummed at this, nodding slightly. Before either of them could say anything else, the Uber pulled up. Paige stood there for a second, looking at Azzi, searching for something in her expression. Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“How do you wanna play this?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now.

Azzi shrugged, her face unreadable.

Paige smiled at that before stepping forward, pulling Azzi into a hug. It was brief but firm, lingering just long enough before they pulled away.

Azzi met her eyes. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Paige smirked. “You have my number Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to text back?”

Paige shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “You aren’t as mysterious anymore. So your little ominous comments don’t work.”

Paige laughed at that, reaching for the car door. “I’ll text you.”

Azzi crossed her arms, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ll text back.”

Paige met her gaze one last time, her expression softer now. “I’ll see you soon, Azzi.”

With that, she slid into the Uber, shutting the door behind her. Azzi stood there, watching as the car pulled away, her arms still crossed, her smile lingering, before she walked back upstairs.

…

After that day, Paige and Azzi kept in touch—not constantly, but enough. Their conversations were never rushed, never forced. A text here and there, one of them sending something random. Azzi sending a meme, Paige sending a highlight clip, both of them sending song recommendations that neither of them ever admitted to actually listening to.

Their texts always stretched over days. It would start off as a constant back and forth, but then one of them would respond hours later, sometimes even the next day, but neither ever seemed to mind. Azzi would send something sarcastic, Paige would respond with something equally dry, and it would spiral into playful messages until one of them finally let it die out—only for another conversation to start days later in the same effortless way.

What surprised Azzi the most during this time was that Paige always answered her FaceTime calls. She’d roll her eyes and act inconvenienced, but she never ignored them. “I told you I don’t like FaceTime,” she’d say when she picked up, usually lying in bed or at a random gym. Azzi would just smirk, tilting her head. “Then why do you always answer?”

Paige never had a real answer for that. She’d just shake her head, fighting a small smile before changing the subject.

Through these scattered conversations, Azzi learned more about Paige. She found out that Paige was at a small Division II school in Minnesota, though she rarely talked about it unless Azzi pried, mumbling about how Azzi asked way too many questions. Azzi learned that Paige hadn’t played her freshman year because of the accident, and after tearing her ACL this past year, she still had two years of eligibility left. Though she planned to use just one—coaches seemed to think that was all she needed to prove that she could still perform on the big stage.

Azzi also learned little things. Like how Paige always listened to music when she couldn’t sleep, nothing too loud, just playing softly in the background so she could listen to the lyrics instead of all the random thoughts swirling in her head. She learned how Paige had a habit of spinning the ring on her finger when she was thinking or when she got a little nervous or uncomfortable. How she spaced off in the middle of conversations and came back to earth like nothing happened. How she only drank coffee if she was desperate, otherwise she stuck to water or the occasional shirley temple.

It was a slow process, getting to know her. Paige didn’t just offer things up freely, but Azzi didn’t mind the wait. The more Paige revealed, the more Azzi realized that, beneath all that confidence and “mystery,” she was someone who chose her words carefully. Someone who didn’t say things unless she meant them.

Paige learned about Azzi just as Azzi had learned about her.

It was almost effortless—Azzi carried most of their conversations, filling in the silences that Paige left behind. That was the first thing Paige realized: Azzi wasn’t necessarily talkative, but with her, she was. Because she knew Paige wouldn’t speak much unless she was eased into it first. If they were ever on FaceTime around Azzi’s team they were the one’s talking and yelling while Azzi usually just sat there offering a small comment here and there.

Paige learned that, despite being one of the healthiest people she had ever met, Azzi had an undeniable sweet tooth—so much so that if she could, she’d probably marry a sweet treat. Paige learned that Azzi loved to read, losing herself in books when she needed a break from the world. She learned that Azzi loved talking about the books she was reading when she was done, even when Paige had no idea what she was talking about most of the time.

She learned about Stewie, Azzi’s dog, and how just talking about him could make Azzi light up. Paige learned about the little things—the things that made Azzi smile, the things that made her laugh, the things that made her feel at home when she was away at school and missed her family.

And now, about a month or so later, they were about to see each other again.

Azzi hadn’t expected to see Paige. As far as she knew, Paige was still making her rounds, visiting schools, weighing her options. They had texted earlier in the day like usual—short, easy messages that stretched over time—but Paige hadn’t mentioned anything about being at the game.

The arena was loud, packed with energy as UConn went through their usual warmups. The rhythm of bouncing basketballs, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, and the music blaring through the speakers filled the space. Azzi was locked in, focused on her silent routine, until a glance toward USC’s bench made her freeze for half a second and do a double take.

Paige was there. Sitting just behind their bench, in nearly the same spot she had been when she watched UConn play before.

Azzi’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her grip tightening around the ball in her hands as she tried to process the sight. Paige, of all people, at the USC game—against UConn, no less.

Paige, of course, had seen Azzi notice her. And, because she was Paige, she smirked, leaning back slightly in her seat when she caught Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi blinked, exhaling a short breath as she shook her head, trying to fight the smile tugging at her lips. This girl.

…

From the moment the ball tipped off Azzi spent the entire game battling against USC’s defense, which had clearly done its homework on the shooting guard. Every time she tried to move off the ball, two defenders shadowed her. Every screen she ran around, they fought through, or two people jumped at her. UConn’s offense, usually fluid and dynamic with the ball in her hands, felt a little stagnant without her usual rhythm.

Paige could see it—the way Azzi’s frustration built with every contested shot, every missed opportunity. She wasn’t playing badly by any means, but she wasn’t playing as freely as she usually did. From where Paige was sitting, she could see ways Azzi could create more space for herself. Small adjustments, little shifts in movement that could’ve made a difference. But all she could do was sit there and watch it unfold behind USC’s bench.

The game was tight all the way through, every possession feeling heavier as the clock wound down. But in the final minutes, USC managed to stay just a step ahead.

When the buzzer finally sounded, the scoreboard read 83-79 in USC’s favor.

The home crowd erupted in celebration while UConn’s players sighed, some shaking their heads, others already replaying the game in their minds. Azzi, standing near the baseline, exhaled sharply, hands on her hips as she looked up at the scoreboard.

From her seat behind USC’s bench, Paige simply watched it all unfold.

A few minutes after the game, once the immediate post-game chaos settled, Paige and Azzi finally made their way toward each other. Paige had stepped away from the crowd, having a few moments to herself while USC went to have their post-game talk. Azzi, fresh off the handshake line, was still coming down from the intensity of the game.

"You didn’t tell me you were coming," Azzi said as soon as they were close enough. The fans near them yelling to get Azzi’s attention.

Paige let out a soft laugh. "You always lead with something I don’t expect. Never a hello."

Azzi shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I don’t have a lot of time," she admitted, glancing over her shoulder toward the tunnel, where her teammates were heading in. "But I wanted to see where you were staying."

"The Marriott, a few minutes from here," Paige answered easily.

Azzi hummed at this. "Hm. Us too."

Paige chuckled, tilting her head slightly. "Guess I’ll see you later, then."

Azzi was about to respond, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the final straggler from her team disappear into the tunnel. She knew she couldn’t afford to linger any longer, especially after a loss. Exhaling softly, she glanced back at Paige.

"I’ll text you," Azzi said instead.

Paige gave her a small nod. Azzi held her gaze for just a second longer before turning and walking toward the locker room.

…

Later that night, Paige was lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, when a soft knock echoed through her hotel room. She blinked at the door before pushing herself up, already knowing who it was but still peeking through the peephole out of habit.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she swung the door open, revealing Azzi standing on the other side in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts. Paige’s gaze dropped to the shorts, taking in the tiny red hearts printed across them.

“Nice hearts,” Paige teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips as she reached out and shoved Paige’s shoulder—though Paige barely moved.

Without another word, Azzi stepped inside, her expression expectant as she looked at Paige. Paige furrowed her brows slightly before realization dawned on her features. Without hesitation, she reached out, wrapping Azzi in a long, lingering hug.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh as Paige wrapped her arms around her, melting into the hug like it was exactly what she needed. Paige held her close, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, feeling the tension still lingering in her body from the game.

"Long day?" Paige murmured.

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. "You could say that."

Paige smiled, pulling back just enough to look at her. "So, what? You came all the way up here just for a hug?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow. "Would that be weird?"

Paige shrugged. "Nah. I get it. I’m me."

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she wandered further into the room, glancing around before flopping down onto Paige’s bed like she’d done it a hundred times before. Paige smirked at this.

"You make yourself at home real quick, huh?"

Azzi glanced up at her. "Well, you did say you’d see me later."

Paige huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head before pushing off the wall and making her way toward the bed. She sat at the edge, glancing over at Azzi, who was already sprawled out against the pillows, arms tucked behind her head, looking completely at ease.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Paige. “How’d I play?”

Paige shrugged before shifting to lay beside her, mirroring her position. “Pretty good.”

Azzi arched her brow. “Not great?”

Paige shook her head. “No, not great.”

Azzi sighed, tilting her head back against the pillows as she mumbled “I hate basketball sometimes.”

Paige turned her head slightly, studying her before adding, “Their defense was basically ‘anyone but Azzi Fudd’ so don’t think about it too much.”

Azzi let out a quiet groan, staring up at the ceiling. "Tell me about it," she muttered. "Felt like they had three people trailing me at all times."

Paige turned her head slightly, glancing at her. "They did," she confirmed. "But you were still getting good looks. You just weren't creating enough space."

Azzi gave her a side-eye. "Oh, so now you're my coach?"

Paige laughed. "I'm just saying, I saw a few ways you could’ve gotten open."

Azzi rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. "Yeah? Like what?"

Paige mirrored her, facing Azzi. "Couple times, you could’ve used your off-ball movement better. They were biting hard on screens—if you slipped off quicker, you would've had more separation. I don’t know if you had anyone to make the pass but still. And when you did get the ball, you hesitated just a little too long. You let them recover."

Azzi stared at her for a moment, her competitive nature flaring just slightly. "You really sat there analyzing me the whole game, huh?"

Paige smirked. "What else was I supposed to do? Watch USC?"

Azzi scoffed. "Yeah, actually."

Paige chuckled, nudging Azzi’s arm with her elbow. "Seriously though, you played well. USC just had a good scouting report."

Azzi sighed, rolling onto her back again. "Yeah. Sucks, though."

"Would've helped if you had a more consistent shooter."

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, raising an eyebrow. "Ashlynn can shoot."

Paige shrugged. "She can, But if she doesn’t make her first few shots, she’s nonexistent the rest of the game."

Azzi hummed at this but didn’t argue, staring up at the ceiling in thought. After a while she tilted her head to look at Paige who was just staring at the ceiling now. Azzi propped her head up on her hand again as she said, “Enough about me. How was your visit?”

Paige shrugged, not offering anything more.

Azzi gave her a pointed look. "How many times do I have to tell you? Shrugging isn’t a proper form of communicating."

Paige chuckled, finally breaking her silence. "It was alright, I guess."

Azzi narrowed her eyes. "Wow. Raving review. So... USC’s out of the running?"

Paige nodded. "Yeah."

Azzi hummed, studying her. "That was quick."

Paige smiled slightly. "I know what I want."

Azzi tilted her head. "And USC wasn’t it?"

Paige shook her head. "Not even close."

Azzi’s lips curled slightly, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she just traced Paige’s arm with her fingers. "Guess that means you’re running out of options, huh?"

Paige glanced down at her arm where Azzi was touching before saying. "Guess so."

Azzi shifted slightly, resting her cheek against her palm as she eyed Paige. “How many do you have left?”

Paige knew what she was asking—how many visits, how many schools still in consideration. She exhaled softly. “Two.”

Azzi nodded, her fingers idly playing with the string of her hoodie. “Are you actually considering them?”

Paige turned her head, meeting Azzi’s gaze for a brief moment before answering. “Not really…I have to go, though.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Paige laughed. “Because they’ll report all the other schools to the NCAA if I don’t.”

Azzi let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You really have schools breaking rules for these ‘unofficial’ visits?”

Paige just chuckled, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess I’m a hot commodity.”

Azzi laughed at this and the room settled into a quiet stillness, the only sound the faint hum of the hotel’s air conditioning. Paige’s eyes flickered over Azzi’s face, taking in the way the dim light softened her features, the way her lips parted slightly like she had something to say but was hesitating. Azzi, normally composed, seemed almost hesitant now, her fingers playing with the string of her hoodie as she held Paige’s gaze.

Finally, Azzi exhaled. “Can I kiss you?”

Paige smiled a little at the question and gave a small nod.

With the confirmation, Azzi closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing gently against Paige’s jaw before tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a slow kiss. Paige exhaled steadily against Azzi, her hands finding their place on Azzi’s hips.

Not long after the kiss started Azzi tilted her head, deepening it, and Paige followed her lead, nipping at Azzi’s bottom lip just enough to make her sigh.

The sound sent a warmth through Paige’s chest, and before she could process it, Azzi shifted forward instinctively, settling more comfortably in Paige’s lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Paige’s waist.

Paige’s hands slid upward, fingertips grazing the skin just beneath Azzi’s hoodie, tracing patterns. After some time, Azzi pulled back slightly, her lips parting as she exhaled.

“We can’t,” she murmured, her voice breathy but firm.

Paige, still beneath her, let out a low chuckle, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Azzi’s waist. “I know.”

Azzi blinked, slightly thrown off by Paige’s lack of protest. “You know?”

Paige nodded, her blue eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head back against the pillows. “Yeah. You spent all day yesterday texting me about how bad your cramps were,” she reminded her. “And how none of this actually makes sense because men are the ones with Adam’s apples.”

Azzi huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head as she sat back a little, still straddling Paige. “Hm. I sure did say that.”

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, her fingers still lazily circling Azzi’s waist, her touch lingering. She was looking at Azzi in the way she seemed to do a lot lately—like she had her completely figured out.

Azzi shifted slightly, her gaze flickering between Paige’s eyes as she noticed the way Paige was just… staring at her. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but in a way that made her feel like Paige was seeing right through her—like she was memorizing her, like she was thinking about something she wouldn’t say out loud.

Azzi’s voice was quiet when she finally asked, “What do you think about when you look at me?”

Paige’s fingers were still circling lazily against Azzi’s waist, her touch warm. She blinked at the question, lips parting slightly before she simply answered, “Too much.”

Azzi hummed at this, tilting her head slightly. “Why?”

Paige sighed, her expression shifting into something a little more distant. She took a moment, as if deciding whether she wanted to answer, before finally saying, “Don’t wanna make the wrong decision.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, but her silence and the look she was giving her encouraged Paige to continue.

Paige inhaled deeply before saying, “Life has a way of being unpredictable and a little cynical, regardless of your intentions. So I think about everything I’m doing way too much, hoping I can control the outcome… even though chances are I can’t.”

Azzi studied her, processing the weight behind Paige’s words. Without thinking, her fingers moved to the ring on Paige’s finger, gently spinning it the way she had seen Paige do. She hesitated before asking, “Is it because of the accident?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, but the way her jaw tightened—how her fingers briefly stilled against Azzi’s waist—was answer enough. After a second, she gave a small nod.

Azzi kept her touch light as she continued to toy with the ring, her voice even softer when she said, “You don’t talk about it much.”

Paige let out a quiet breath, eyes flickering away for a moment. “Not much to say.”

Azzi shook her head slightly. “I think there’s a lot to say. You just don’t want to.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, but there was no humor in it. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not bad,” Azzi murmured. “Just… something I’ve picked up on.”

Paige exhaled, staring past Azzi for a moment, her thoughts somewhere else. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally admitted, “It’s just… easier. Not thinking about it, not talking about it.”

Azzi watched Paige carefully, noting the way her fingers twitched slightly against her waist. She let the silence settle between them for a moment before asking, “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

Paige’s lips pressed together briefly before she shook her head. “No.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, then looked up at her with a soft smile. “You ask a lot of questions, pretty girl.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh. “And you usually answer them, gorgeous.”

Paige let out a breath, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. She glanced away before finally saying, “No point. Every time I try, I just end up thinking about all the different decisions I could’ve made. Doesn’t do me any good.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, just watching Paige as she absentmindedly traced circles against her skin. There was something raw in Paige’s admission, something unspoken lingering between them.

“You know there’s nothing you could’ve done. You can’t control the world Paige.”

Paige nodded, but she didn’t speak, her eyes fixed somewhere past Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi could tell she wasn’t fully convinced—just because she knew it didn’t mean it was easy to accept.

“I know,” Paige finally said, her voice quiet. “But there’s just a lot from that day that could’ve changed things.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. “Like what?”

Paige hesitated. Azzi saw the way her lips parted like she was about to say something before she stopped herself, debating.

But then Paige’s gaze shifted, fully looking at her—the way Azzi was straddling her hips, the way she was still idly playing with the ring on her finger, the way her brown eyes were searching but so patient and warm.

Suddenly, Paige just started talking. “You know my little brother, Drew?”

Azzi nodded.

Paige stared past her for a second before continuing. “That day, he was bugging me all afternoon to go get ice cream. I mean, non-stop—every few minutes for some reason. But I was tired from the games that week, and I had a workout later that day, so I didn’t really want to leave the house before I had to. But I promised him we would go… just not right then.”

Azzi stayed silent, just listening as Paige’s voice took on a more distant quality.

Paige chuckled dryly. “When it was time for my workout, I couldn’t drive because I didn’t put gas in my car the night before, so we all went together—me, my dad, my stepmom, and Drew. Ironically we had never even done that before, that was the first time everyone was coming to one of my workouts. We left a little earlier than we needed to, and when Drew noticed he asked if we could stop for ice cream.” Paige let out a small, humorless huff, eyes still unfocused as she spoke. “My dad looked at me in the rearview mirror and said it was my workout so it was up to me. And I always hated saying no to Drew and I had said no so many times that day already, so I said of course.”

Azzi saw the moment Paige started slipping away, her expression flattening, her words turning mechanical, like she wasn’t even processing them as they left her mouth.

“So instead of going straight, we turned right,” Paige said, her voice distant, like she was narrating someone else’s life. “A few blocks later, one light before we were going to turn into the coldstone, there was this Pepsi truck. I guess he was coming off the highway too fast or something. He couldn’t brake in time, so he ran the light while we were in the intersection.”

She swallowed hard.

“The truck hit the side of the car my stepmom and I were on…They say your brain is supposed to block out things like that. Make it easier. But I remember everything. I just—” Her voice faded, like the words had dried up in her throat. Her eyes were glossy, unfocused, trapped in a memory she couldn’t shake. She blinked once, slowly, then murmured, “And yeah. That was that.”

Paige let out a shaky breath before continuing, her voice rough.

“And I hated the world for so long. Sometimes I still do honestly,” she admitted, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “Because I—I did everything right. I prayed every night, I gave back, I was generous, selfless, I worked hard, I did everything they say you’re supposed to, and that still happened. But then I remember I can’t hate the world. Because we’re all still here and healthy. I still get to play the game I love. I’m still so blessed. So I can’t even give myself the grace to be upset about everything.”

Silence settled between them as Paige just stared into space.

Azzi glanced down at Paige’s hands, noticing how cold they had become. She squeezed them softly, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of Paige’s knuckles, trying to get the blood flowing again.

“Paige,” Azzi said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. She squeezed her hands again, firmer this time, tilting Paige's head slightly to meet her eyes. “Hey.”

Azzi watched as Paige slowly came back to herself, the distant haze in her eyes clearing as she blinked a few times. Her gaze refocused, landing on Azzi like she had just remembered she was there.

“Hm?” Paige murmured.

Azzi softened her hold on Paige’s hands, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to—but she didn’t let go completely. She just held on. “What do you need?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige exhaled, her fingers flexing slightly in Azzi’s grasp. “I’m good,” she said, but there was no real conviction behind it.

Azzi didn’t argue, didn’t push. She just said, soft but firm, “Paige.”

Paige licked her lips, taking a slow breath. “Tell me something about you.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, then nodded, shifting slightly where she sat. She thought for a second before a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head. “During CoVid, my brothers and I got so bored one day that we decided to go out on the patio and I gave them haircuts.”

Paige’s brows lifted slightly, intrigued.

Azzi grinned. “And not just any regular haircuts. I was cutting shapes into their heads. Like, just completely ruining them. I had no idea what I was doing, but they let me do it anyway.”

Paige huffed a small laugh, and Azzi could see the lightness in her eyes start to return.

“I drew a basketball in one of their heads, even added my jersey number,” Azzi continued, laughing at the memory. “It was awful. Just—bad all around. But we were dying the whole time. Even my parents came out to watch.”

Paige chuckled, the sound quiet but genuine. “They actually let you do that?”

“Oh yeah,” Azzi nodded. “We were locked in the house for months; we needed entertainment. I think they regretted it as soon as they saw their reflections, but at that point, it was too late.”

Paige shook her head, smiling softly. “That’s ridiculous.”

Azzi shrugged. “Definitely. But I think it’s one of my favorite memories. Just us being stupid and not caring about anything else.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled. “Sounds nice.”

Azzi gave her hands another squeeze. “It was.”

They stayed like that for a few beats, the weight in the room a little lighter now. Azzi watched Paige carefully, making sure she was really back, that she wasn’t slipping away again.

“You good?” Azzi asked quietly.

Paige nodded, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s where they were still intertwined. “Yeah,” she murmured.

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking softly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first—just nodded again. Then, with a gentle tug on Azzi’s hoodie, she pulled her down, closing the space between them. Their lips met in a kiss that felt different from all the others—not rushed or hesitant. It was just them, existing in this moment, wrapped up in each other.

Azzi sighed into the kiss, her hands moving instinctively to cup Paige’s face, her thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Paige’s fingers curled around the fabric of Azzi’s hoodie, holding her close, like she needed this—like she needed her.

The kiss continued to slowly deepen, neither of them in a rush to pull away. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, one that didn’t need words.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Azzi broke the kiss, her head moving toward the sound as her breath came a little uneven. Paige groaned, her head dropping against the pillow.

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, still slightly dazed as she glanced down at Paige. “You expecting someone?”

Paige shook her head. “No.” She tapped Azzi’s leg, silently telling her to get up. With a small sigh, Azzi slid off Paige’s lap, settling back against the pillows as Paige stood and walked toward the door.

Azzi couldn’t see who it was from where she sat—the way the hotel room was laid out blocked her view—but she heard the confusion in Paige’s voice when she opened the door.

“Wassup?”

A second voice answered, a little sheepish. “I think I left my charger here earlier. And I know you’re leaving tomorrow, so I didn’t wanna be SOL.”

Paige chuckled. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

She stepped back into the room, her eyes scanning for a moment before she spotted a charger near the couch. Grabbing it, she walked back toward the door.

“Thanks,” the voice said.

“No problem,” Paige replied easily before shutting the door behind her.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t realize your hotel room doubled as lost and found.”

Paige laughed as she sat back on the bed. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Who was that?”

“Just one of the girls from the USC team,” Paige said casually.

Azzi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at this, and Paige immediately caught on, shaking her head. “It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

Paige scoffed. “It was all over your face.” She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow as she continued, “A couple of them came over yesterday before the game and just chilled here with me because my flight’s early tomorrow.”

Azzi hummed at this, but Paige could tell her mind was still working.

“What?” Paige prompted, watching as Azzi hesitated for a moment before finally asking, “Have you slept with anyone since me?”

There wasn’t a single beat of hesitation before Paige answered, “No.”

Azzi didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze lingering on Paige. Paige studied her in return, waiting, until the silence stretched a little too long.

Finally, Paige spoke again. “There’s no one else, Azzi.”

Azzi looked at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly as if processing the weight of the words. Then, softly, she responded, “I know. I’m just processing why the thought crossed my mind.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back on the bed with a casual smile. “I already told you why…You were way too interested for it to be just one night.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her expression now. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered. “I miss when you didn’t speak unless spoken to.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the bed with a smug smile. “Really?” she teased.

Azzi sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “No,” she said, her voice softening. “I don’t miss it, but it was... easier.”

Paige chuckled. “I’ll remember this when you’re begging me to say more than two words on FaceTime.”

Azzi smirked. “I’ll give you at least three. You probably say ‘I don’t know’ more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Paige’s lips twitched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You say ‘I don’t know’ just as much as I do. Don’t act like I’m the only one with the habit.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I do not.”

Paige grinned. “You literally said ‘I don’t know’ like five times today before noon.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, though it was clear she was trying not to laugh. “Okay, maybe once or twice,” she conceded, but then pointed at Paige, “But that’s because you’re always asking me impossible questions.”

Paige laughed fully. “Impossible questions? I ask things like, ‘How’s your day?’”

Azzi raised her hand in mock surrender. “Fine, I’m outnumbered.”

Paige smiled, her eyes warm with affection. “Yeah, you are.”

Azzi's phone rang from the nightstand next to the bed, interrupting their playful exchange. She glanced at the screen, letting it ring a few times.

“You gonna get that?” Paige asked with a smirk.

Azzi rolled her eyes but picked up her phone. “I was about to, if you give me a second.”

As Azzi answered, Caroline’s voice instantly filled the room, loud and clear. “Stop having sex with the recruit and come back to the room. CD’s having room checks soon.”

Azzi let out a laugh. “If I was having sex, I wouldn’t have answered the phone, babe.”

Caroline’s voice came back with a sigh. “Whatever. You’ve got like fifteen minutes.”

Azzi sighed, glancing at Paige as she responded, “Okay, bye,” before hanging up. She tossed the phone onto the nightstand, her expression now amused as she met Paige’s gaze.

Paige’s eyebrows were shot up in disbelief. “Sex with the recruit?”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”

Paige stood up, slipping on her Ugg Tasman slippers. “Come on, let’s get you back,” she said, glancing over at Azzi.

“You don’t need to walk me to my room.”

Paige shrugged casually, her usual nonchalance apparent. “I don’t mind.”

Azzi pushed herself off the bed, and as she reached for her phone, Paige grabbed her phone and keycard. The two of them walked out of the room, moving silently down the hall.

The walk to the elevator wasn’t awkward—just quiet. Azzi was lost in her thoughts, her mind drifting to places she hadn’t quite sorted through yet regarding the game.

Once inside the elevator, Paige leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The hum of the elevator made the moment feel peaceful, a brief pause in their whirlwind of thoughts.

It was then that Azzi finally spoke, her voice soft but laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Paige opened her eyes slowly, tilting her head slightly toward Azzi. She nodded, the motion small.

Azzi watched Paige as they stepped out of the elevator and began walking down the hall toward her room. She raised an eyebrow, noting the quiet shift in Paige’s energy. “Why’d you get all quiet on me?”

Paige glanced at her, a faint smirk pulling at her lips. “I didn’t. I was just letting you think.”

Azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Right.”

When they reached Azzi’s door, she leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed. Paige stood in front of her, looking down the hallway for a moment before meeting Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi hesitated, then said, “I probably won’t see you for a while.”

Paige nodded, not offering much else. Azzi studied her, noticing the subtle shift in her posture. “You did get quiet on me. What’s up?”

Paige shook her head. “Nothing. I’m good.”

Azzi gave her a pointed look, not buying it. “You sure about that?”

Paige sighed, looking down at her shoes for a moment before meeting Azzi’s eyes. “I’m just gonna miss you.”

Azzi softened at the admission. “Keep going,” she said quietly, sensing there was more to it.

Paige hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s just—my thoughts are a lot quieter when you’re around, for some reason. It’s just a little jarring going back to that after you leave.”

Azzi’s expression softened as she let out a small pout, tugging on Paige’s shirt, pulling her closer. “You know, you make it hard to leave when you say things like that.”

Paige chuckled softly, a sheepish smile on her lips. “My bad.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the unnecessary apology, her heart softening a little. “Come here.”

Paige hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, the space between them closing. As soon as she was near enough, Azzi reached out, pulling Paige in by the waist to connect their lips.

The moment their lips met, Azzi felt Paige’s tense jaw, the tension still lingering in her. Azzi gently traced her finger along the curve of Paige’s jaw, coaxing her to relax. Paige let out a soft sigh, her body responding as she melted into the kiss, her hands coming to wrap around Azzi pulling her closer.

They stayed like that for several minutes, the world outside disappearing as they simply focused on the feeling of being with each other in the hallway. When Paige finally pulled back, her breath uneven, she murmured quietly, “Thank you.”

Azzi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

The two of them lingered close, their foreheads nearly touching as they just savored the moment in silence, comfortable in each other’s presence. Eventually, Paige stepped back, putting her hands in her pockets, though Azzi noticed how her fingers absently toyed with the ring on her finger.

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re cute sometimes.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Thanks.”

Azzi turned toward the door, her hand moving to unlock it. "I’ll call you tomorrow," she said, her voice carrying the same familiarity that made everything feel a little more comfortable.

Paige nodded, her gaze softening. "Okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The brief silence between them lingered as Azzi slowly pushed the door open, stepping inside. She paused for a moment, eyes meeting Paige's one last time, before closing it behind her. Paige remained where she stood, her expression lingering. The soft click of the door locking was the only sound that followed, leaving Paige standing in the hallway for just a moment longer before she turned to walk away.

[leviathanspain]

your porcelain doll

anthony bridgerton x reader, colin bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you needed him to see you

a/n: just go with it 😭😭 it was late and i was high

you had been everything anthony had wanted in a wife. educated and from a high society family, hips perfect for bearing children, he could not have asked for more.

yet anthony neglected you, his wife, his viscountess. he would prefer the promiscuous girls from the opera and brothels, than you, his darling, porcelain doll wife.

when he felt the rare urge to dote on you, perhaps the guilt that had made its monthly appearance, anthony would call you his doll, admiring how perfect you have been in this marriage.

“sweet,” his voice was husky as he brushed back the flutters of your hair. he had surprised you by coming to bed at the same time as you. captured between his arms as your dress began to slip down your body, you smiled weakly. you could smell her perfume on his neck, and you felt nauseous. you had walked away, feeling the burn of his touch on your skin.

in your dreams, anthony bridgerton was the noble viscount that you had been promised. completely and utterly enamored with you, making love to you, worshipping you endlessly.

but when you woke up, finding the space next to you, cold and empty, you knew it was a never ending nightmare. one where the viscount would never love you.

you had been married to the viscount for nearly a year and you had yet to meet his second younger brother, colin bridgerton. you had only heard of the man through anecdotes and stories shared by the bridgerton family.

you loved to be around the bridgerton family, especially the dowager viscountess, violet. when in her and his family’s presence, anthony treated you like a wife, as if he loved you.

but as anthony grew busier, and you were pushed aside more and more, your time with the bridgertons had been cut in half.

only when you received a letter addressed to the viscount and viscountess, a rare instance, from colin bridgerton, you knew that once again the bridgerton family would reunite.

you knew that daphne and her children would be present, and as much as you loved them all, her children served as your constant reminder that you continue to fail in the one thing that he asked for.

your entrance was welcomed warmly, daphne standing to greet you, and violet offering you the seat beside her. you felt overwhelmed with their love, and you felt starved of any affection or attention. anthony had hardly said two words to you since presenting his brother’s letter.

as the rest of the bridgertons filed in, you let your eyes wander and try to find the mysterious bridgerton.

you knew it was him, he had been sitting by the piano, lips moving quietly as a finger traced the page. you had heard from eloise and her friend penelope that colin loved to sing, and had a rather good voice. the piano was something that daphne excelled in the most, but you could assume the musical talent ran in the family.

violet had called over her traveler son, “you must meet your brother’s wife!” his wife, your identity seemed to disappear the moment you became the viscountess, that even the dowager failed to notice.

your heart pounded in your chest as the strapping man walked towards you. from what you knew, he was closer to your age than anthony was, and had seemingly gotten stronger overseas.

being gone long, colin did not forget his manners. a bow and a kiss to your hand that nearly left you weeping, colin introduced himself and welcomed you into his family.

his eyes strayed and you felt flushed. colin bridgerton had not been the boy that the family told stories of, he had not been the young boy caught in a vicious scandal, at least not as he was now.

you had walked into the drawing room to search for your missing brooch. dinner was finishing up and you had excused yourself early to do your searching. you had pushed the doors open and found colin bridgerton, who had earlier excused himself for breather, sitting with his feet up on the table.

you stepped back, “i apologize, mr. bridgerton-“ you pulled away and colin shook his head, “please, stay. and call me colin, you are family.” he looked at you in a way that felt-

you sat down, finding some solace in the understanding that there was nothing wrong with a woman sharing a conversation with her husband’s brother. a recently traveled man with many stories to tell.

as colin neared close to you, eyes shining brightly as he went on and on about his travels, you could not stop yourself as you kissed him. a deep kiss that you felt immediate shame for, pulling away until he pulled you back in, his teeth nipping at your lips.

colin had known how anthony treated you, his brother still sent letters whenever he could, and none of them ever had anything to say about you, even when asked. colin could have pushed you away, knowing that it was the right thing to do. but your kiss had been nothing like colin had imagined. better, and it had left with such a rage towards his brother.

anthony could have counted on his fingers how many instances you had embarrassed him. your early excusal had sent him into a quiet rage, leaving early had not been approved by him, and now as he went searching for you to take you to bed, anthony could not find you.

he had heard soft chatter coming from the drawing room. anthony pushed the doors open as soon as he heard the rare sound of your laugh. he found his brother next to you, tangled in a kiss with your hands meshed against his body.

you turned at the sight of the door creaking and you felt immediate shame. the idea of adultery had never crossed your mind, but now as you had committed the act, nonetheless with his own brother, you remembered why you did it in the first place.

his voice broke as the words came out, emotion filled with rage, a quiet rage that floated off of him, “y/n- what is this?”

you felt sick, eyes muddled with tears as you shook your head, “this marriage is rotten, bitter,” you felt your mouth suddenly dry, “it had consumed me inside and out, not even my womb bears the bastard sons you’ve given your many whores, and i hope i never do.”

there, staring at the furious face of his brother, colin could now see the true nature of your relationship. there was an intensity in anthony’s eyes that made colin fear the worst. he stepped in front of you, eyes blazing at his own brother, “you do not realize your mistake, colin.” anthony seethed, thoughts rushing through his head.

you looked at your husband, regret filling a pit in your stomach. you would not return to your bed, where you feigned ignorance when he would not come to bed. “anthony, go.” you whispered, you were shaking, and for the first time, it was as if anthony had seen you, you were more than his porcelain doll, to be seen and not heard, to be beautiful and innocent.

the viscount was speechless and he exited the room, a heaviness lingered in the air as your mind rushed to your very few options. colin had seemed to sense your distress, perhaps your shivering like a leaf that tipped him off, “y/n, we will take care of you.” there was reassurance that you hadn’t expected- and you remained in awe of colin bridgerton.

[chrattho1]

employee!matt x boss!reader

do you have a problem?

summary: matt has been working under you for 2 years now,you have a very professional relationship with all your employees but sometimes when you catch matt staring at you and checking you out—you can’t help but be intrigued by what goes on in his head.

warnings: use of pet names, oral (m.receiving),sub!matt

more of this au here

“so these have to go in today?” matt’s eyes squint as he questions you in your office.

you click your teeth before looking up at him from the computer screen.

“yes matt, do you have a problem staying late and finishing them up?” your eyebrows in a knot.

“i guess not” matt’s voice lower now as he looks down at the files in his hands, his foot tapping the floor next to your desk.

“start working on them” you said, eyes not leaving the screen.

you can hear matt sigh softly as he walks out of your office with the pile of files he has to work on, the pile of files that’ll take at least 2 hours to get done.

its already 5 pm, everyone in the office has left the premise to go to their respective homes, families, maybe get a drink with their friends, but you and matt are stuck in the office. matt still working on those files and you on digitising them one by one as he comes by and drops each one of them off in your office. even though you could have more people wait back— you would rather only one person stay back and do the work, so you chose matt. is there a specific reason behind you choosing him? maybe.

you walk out of your office, trailing down your way to matt’s cubicle where you hear him humming a song.

you lean on the cubicle wall, watching him bob his head to the song as he fills out some papers.

“i wanna share an apartment, a room,-mh mhm mh-” matt spins in his chair as he hums the lyrics to a song, but the spinning comes to a halt when he sees you leaning on his wall, smiling at him.

“hey” you said, your arms crossed, your shoulders still leaning on to the wall.

“hi” matt returns the smile, but his expression soon changes watching you still stand there, why were you here? don’t you have work to do as well? his thoughts race up, just as any employee’s thoughts would if their boss stood there staring at them doing their work.

“what? can i not supervise you?” you spoke, playfulness lacing your words. you slowly make your way to his small desk, pushing up and sitting on it. you’re now right in front of his chair, your bare legs brushing against his clothed knees.

matt’s breath hitches but he can do nothing but simply shake his head at your question, his lips curl up when senses your playful tone.

“i like your earing” you said pointing at his ear with a smile on your face, a smile you don’t often give to people in the office.

matt’s hands involuntarily reach up to his earing, touching it, almost not convinced that he just got complimented by you.

“uh—thanks-thank you” matt’s eyes never leave you. something building up in his chest, and he knows exactly what it is feeling his pants tightening.

“lets take a break yeah?” you said bringing your face closer to his, your hand reaching to grab the hand rest of his chair, your faces inches apart. matt’s chest heaving, his breathing ragged and you’ve barely spoken two sentences to him.

to your statement of taking a break matt nods, his eyes fluttering not knowing what is happening right now.

“so matt, tell me about yourself, got a girlfriend? a wife? kids?” your manicured nails tap the hand rest of his chair. matt shakes his head to your question, to which you frown.

“really?” you ask in disbelief, feeling a rush of excitement as soon as you realise that this is perfect.

“i don’t” matt shrugs, he has a smile on his face making it very clear that he is embarrassed.

“how is that possible? you’re a good looking guy, well spoken, make good money at this company” you state facts about him that you know, sounding almost like you admire those things about him, and that makes matt suck in a breath.

you praising him, talking to him in this demeanour, he feels like he is in a wet dream that he’s definitely had before so naturally his pants get tighter around his groin.

matt shrugs, his eyes not batting away, he is not even blinking as much.

“i thought girls would throw themselves at you” you bite the inside of your cheek, matt’s non verbal, flustered state making you want to tease him even more.

matt shakes his head again, letting you know that girls in fact don’t throw themselves at him.

“that’s a shame, i personally think you’re a greaatt guy” you pout, your hands reaching down to rest on one of his knees.

“fuck” matt whispered under his breath, but the office being so quite made his voice almost echo in your ears, you smirk at his reaction. a reaction he gave from something so small.

“like when i touch you?” you spoke tilting your head down and looking at him, matt nods frantically.

“gotta use your words matt” one side of mouth curling up.

“ye-yes i do” matt finally lets words out of his mouth— shaky, hasty words.

“want me to touch you more?” your hand now stroking his thigh, at an extremely slow pace. you can feel his skin radiating heat from underneath the pants he’s worn.

“yes- please—” matt couldn’t have sounded more desperate if he tried to, his hips rising and sliding down the chair.

you lean over him more with your hands moving up to his tie, loosening it. your eyes never leave his as you do so.

matt’s eyes scan all over your you, your tits right in his face. his hands go up from his sides to softly lay at your waist.

“is this okay?” shaky words from him fall onto your features with his breath, minty you think.

“mhm” you nod, his tie now almost fully loose.

“please-” matt’s voice low, but your receptors catch it perfectly.

you grab the end of his loosened tie, pulling him up with you. dragging him into your office, matt fully giving into your actions, loving every single second of what’s happening, even the walk from his cubicle to your office.

once you’re both in the office, you push him against the door, his body weight closing it on its own. the way you’re pressed onto him-you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat aligning with yours, his being just a tad bit higher than yours. you can also feel his throbbing dick press against your inner thigh.

your fingertips trail along his jaw, feeling the tiny hair from his stubble.

“i see the way you look at me matt” you whisper. he looks at you with wide eyes, exhaling deeply. your fingers now making their way up to his mouth, index finger toying with his bottom lip.

“what do you have to say about that huh?” your finger slowly making its way in,and he opens his mouth for you to do so.

“always so quite, looking so innocent” your voice low and seductive, matt’s eyes flicker at the sound. his mouth still hung open with just the tip of your finger in it.

you lay small pecks on his cheeks slowly,before getting to his lips dropping your hand to his chest, pressing him down. matt complies immediately kissing you with hurry he’s never been in before. the room is filled with sounds of sharp breaths that were taken through matt’s nose while his mouth was occupied. as both your lips and tongues were tied your hands got busy untucking his shirt from under his pants. his hands rested on your hips softly.

you pull away to slide his suit jacket off of him-one shoulder at a time,and then his tie and then the buttons on his shirt. once his shirt slides off of his skin, you’re taken a back, a small gasp leaves your mouth.

“you have a tattoo sleeve?” you asked even though the proof lied in front of your eyes. matts eyes drop to his arm, and then on to you hoping that’ll give you the answer to your question.

“fuck-come here—” you said pulling him and kissing him sloppily again, flushed by the feeling of wanting him even more, the knowledge that him acting so quite and innocent is kind of for show did something to you.

your fingertips trail down his abdomen,deciding to rest right on his v-line.

matt pulled away this time,his lips swollen and mouth open catching a breath.

“can i take this off you?” he asked hesitantly,fingers toying with the collar on your shirt. a smirk grows on your face and you nod. matt wastes no time, his fingers got to work, unbuttoning your shirt as fast as he can.

you smile down at him as he does so, his desperate state making your panties wetter by the second.

“oh my—fuck” a small whimper falls from his mouth, the sight of your lacy bra that barely covered your tits making his knees weak, better than he’d imagine or dreamt of.

you throw your shirt off somewhere, before leaning your head down to his neck. lips leaving traces down to his collarbone, sucking on it. with a moan matt’s head falls back making a “thump” sound on the wooden door behind him. you immediately look up at him to check if he’s okay.

his eyes on you when he notices the look of concern on your face. “im okay” he whispers, his voice cracking. you smile holding in a giggle before getting back to what you were doing before.

after about a good 5 minutes, you’ve kissed him all over his neck and chest, when you get to his lower tummy matt noticeably squirms under you. a smirk forms onto your lips as you continue to trail kisses down his stomach, getting right above the band of his pants. you look up at him once, batting your eyelashes.

“please—” he spoke between his teeth,his eyes half lidded but you can see the glint on them.

you unbutton his pants with one hand, the other rested on his chest stretched out.

his pants fall to his ankles, you’re met with the sight of his calvin clien boxers that have a small dark patch of precum on them.

your long manicured nails graze the skin over his hipbone while you slowly pull down on his boxers. matt’s dick springs out of them as soon as the boxers come off, his dick more desperate than he is. tip red and swollen, precum oozing. the sight making you suck in a gasp he is big-you thought.

you lean down even more, your face at his dick-level. matt squirms at the feeling of your breaths falling on to his dick.

“hmp-please—” every time he begs, you want him to beg more but this time you have a feeling if you keep teasing-he might cry.

“such a good boy for me yeah?” you say looking up at him, to which he nods with his eyes closed.

“yes-yes—i am” you smile at his words that motivate you to do more for him. your tongue pops out of your mouth, kitty licking his tip a few times.

“OH—” matt’s eyes pressed shut at the small action. his hips involuntarily thrusting in the air past your tongue.

you bring your tongue from his tip down to the base of his dick and swirl it around.

“oh fu—d-don’t tease—i’ll cum—” whining and groaning, matt’s voice isn’t even his at this point, so cracky, full of pants and heavy breathing. his brain working in favour of the pleasure and not him.

you finally put your mouth around halfway through his dick, taking the rest in your palms. matt’s mouth focused more on whimpering than breathing.

“hmpph—just like tha-so good mama” moaning and whimpering matt’s hands fall into your hair when you start bobbing around his dick, your tongue covered in his saline precum.

“so-so beautiful—ahhh fuck—” matt tries his hardest to open his eyes to get a glimpse of you sucking his dick in a bra with your short skirt riding all the way up your thighs but his eyes betray him and shut once again.

“i cant—cant—” matt almost sounds like he is apologising when you feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you knew he was going to cum right then, so you pulled off of him.

the whine that leaves matt’s mouth next made your breath hitch, he is so desperate.

“not yet baby” you got up from the floor and grabbed his hand, leading him to your desk.

english is not my first language !

[buckyseternaldoll]

Snowy Alps: Alpine.

Summary: Bucky brings home a stray cat. Alpine brings home a new routine.

Disclaimer: fluff, domestic bucky, stray cat adoption, alpine supremacy, soft cuddles, pet store chaos, bed-sharing (with cat), light teasing

The door slid open with a gentle swoosh, and Bucky stepped into your shared Watchtower unit, a takeout bag in one hand, your steaming cup of coffee in the other, and—most notably—white cat fur clinging to the black of his jacket like he’d wrestled a snowstorm on the way home.

“Baby?” he called out, voice lighter than usual.

You peeked from the couch where you’d been curled up with a blanket and a book. “Hey, welcome back.” Then your eyes narrowed, amused. “You’re covered in something… fuzzy.”

He blinked, then glanced down. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. About that.”

He set the food down and shrugged off his jacket, revealing even more fur speckled along the sleeves of his black long-sleeve shirt. He didn’t even bother brushing it off. Instead, he practically beamed as he sat beside you, still riding the high of his afternoon discovery.

“There’s this cat,” he began, already breathless with excitement. “At the café downstairs. All white. Like—not cream or off-white. White-white. Snow.”

You tilted your head, already smiling. “And she attacked you?”

“No,” he said, eyes softening as he looked at you. “She curled up on my lap while I was waiting for your pastries. Like she just decided I was furniture. Didn’t flinch when I pet her. She even rolled over so I could scratch her tummy.”

“She showed you her belly?” you laughed, heart fluttering at how gentle he sounded. “That’s trust. Instant soul bond.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” His knee bounced slightly. He was trying to contain himself, like he was unsure if this would sound silly—but you already knew the answer.

“So… I wanna bring her home,” he said, glancing at you, hopeful but cautious. “If you’re okay with that. I already checked—she’s a girl. I’d name her Alpine. Like the snowcaps in the Alps. Pure white. Peaceful. It just… felt right. I think she reminds me of that part of me I never got to have.”

That last part made your chest ache a little—softly, sweetly. You leaned forward, cupping his jaw and brushing your thumb over his stubbled cheek.

“I love it,” you said. “And I love her already. Let’s go get Alpine.”

—

Later that evening, you were both back at the café. The little white cat was still perched in her usual spot by the patio, paws tucked under her like a loaf of bread.

Bucky crouched down and softly called, “Hey, Alpine…”

Her ears twitched. She lifted her head, saw him—and without hesitation, padded straight over. She hopped onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, head bumping against his chest before she curled against him.

“Yup,” you murmured, watching him hold her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “You’re hers now.”

He scooped her up carefully, and she made no fuss—just settled in with a quiet purr, trusting and content.

—

The evening ended with a smooth vet visit—Alpine was healthy, just a little underweight—and a very enthusiastic trip to the nearby pet store that felt, quite honestly, more like preparing for a royal homecoming than a casual adoption.

The moment you stepped inside, Bucky froze like a soldier facing an unexpected new mission.

“This is… a lot,” he muttered, surveying the rows of colorful packaging and towers of cat furniture like they were tactical assets on a battlefield. You watched his eyes dart from brand names to ingredient lists with the same intense focus he used when analyzing mission files.

He lingered in the litter box aisle for an embarrassingly long time, crouched in front of three nearly identical models with his brow furrowed. One had a carbon filter, another promised “maximum odor control,” and the third came in sleek matte black.

“This one looks like it belongs in Stark’s bathroom,” he grumbled.

“Then she’ll probably hate it,” you replied, laughing as you nudged him. “Just pick one that doesn’t look like a spaceship.”

“She deserves something classy,” he insisted, eventually settling on a simple beige model with a privacy hood and golden trim. “She’s got dignity.”

The indecision didn’t stop there. In the food aisle, he hovered like a man trying to choose the perfect wine for a Michelin-starred dinner. He held up one bag of premium organic kibble like it held the answer to the universe.

“This says wild-caught salmon,” he mumbled, reading the back. “But this one has freeze-dried duck. Which one’s better? Which one screams ‘I love you and I respect your primal instincts’?”

“She’s a five-pound cat, Buck.”

“She’s my five-pound cat,” he said stubbornly. “I can’t give her anything boring. What if she hates me?”

Then, with sudden intensity, he looked at you and said, completely serious: “Should I just buy raw steak? Like… once a week? A little Friday night ritual? We could call it Alpine’s Ribeye Hour.”

You burst out laughing. “No, babe. No ribeye hour. She doesn’t need red meat marbled to perfection.”

A staff member nearby chuckled and gently stepped in. “If she’s not on a raw diet, that much red meat might upset her stomach. Fancy kibble and wet food will do fine. Maybe throw in a few freeze-dried treats.”

Bucky nodded slowly, as if receiving sacred instructions.

“I just want her to feel safe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “Like she’s somewhere soft and permanent.”

“She already does,” you reminded him softly.

Eventually, you both left the store with a small cart piled high: a tall cat tree (“She deserves the high ground,” Bucky declared), a pastel pink ceramic bowl set (“Matches her tiny murder princess energy”), a soft faux-fur bed, several mouse-shaped toys, a bag of treats shaped like little fish, and a feather wand Bucky couldn’t stop playing with while waiting in line.

“She’s gonna think we’re insane,” you said.

“She’s gonna think she won the lottery,” he replied.

—

By the time you were both back at the Watchtower—inside your cozy, shared space that passed for a home more than a mission base—Alpine was already out of her carrier and trotting forward like she’d been here before in another life.

Tail held high, she made her rounds with purpose. First the kitchen, where she sniffed the legs of the island and examined the corner near the fridge. Then the couch, where she clawed lightly at the throw blanket you’d folded earlier that morning, as if testing the texture for naps. She darted into the hallway, disappeared into the bathroom, and reappeared with what looked like a stray cotton swab in her mouth.

“She’s inspecting her kingdom,” you whispered.

“No—she’s checking for weak spots in our defenses,” Bucky replied seriously, crouching to retrieve the cotton swab from her mouth. “Classic flanking maneuver.”

Eventually, she made her way into the bedroom, pausing only once to look over her shoulder and chirp—a soft, curious sound that neither of you had expected to melt your hearts the way it did.

You followed her inside, and watched as she leapt effortlessly onto the bed. But not just anywhere. No. She walked with clear intent to Bucky’s side—his pillow still creased from that morning—and plopped down like she owned it.

“I…” Bucky blinked. “I think I’m the chosen one.”

“You are,” you smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re covered in fur and she already slept on you once. You’re marked.”

As if to prove it, Alpine stretched and rolled sideways, exposing her belly to the ceiling as she purred and rubbed her face into Bucky’s pillow like she was stamping her signature all over it.

He stepped forward slowly, like if he moved too fast she might vanish. But when he sat on the edge of the mattress, Alpine stood, walked over, and—with the most casual entitlement—climbed halfway up his leg like a tiny mountain lion scaling familiar terrain.

“Did you see that?” he whispered, wide-eyed and trying very hard not to move. “She picked me again.”

You grinned, arms crossed. “Yeah. She’s definitely got good taste.”

Alpine nuzzled her cheek into the dark fabric of his pants before curling into a loaf at his feet, purring like a little motor. The kind of sound you could feel if you stood close enough—warm and steady.

Bucky’s voice dropped to something almost reverent. “She’s home.”

—

Dinner was easy that night. The two of you ate on the small dining table tucked against the window, city lights sparkling far below. You passed each other bites between conversation and quiet laughter, half of your attention stolen by the soft presence now occupying the middle of the table.

Alpine had curled up just to the left of Bucky’s plate, nose tucked under her tail, the tips of her ears twitching ever so slightly. Her soft, rhythmic purring filled the space like background music—comforting, cozy, like a fireplace crackling.

Bucky just stared at her for a long moment, chin resting on his palm, spoon suspended in his other hand.

“You good, Buck?” you asked gently.

He didn’t even look away from her. “Mmhmm,” he hummed, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “I’m full already. Could listen to that purr all night.”

You snorted into your drink, setting it down with a smirk. “So that’s it, huh? I’ve lost my queen position to a white cat with jellybean toes?”

Bucky finally turned to you with the softest look—like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life—and said, “Nah. You’re the queen. She’s just… the royal advisor. Or a tiny fluffy tyrant.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her paw.”

“She does,” he admitted, completely unbothered. “And I’d do anything she asked.”

You couldn’t even pretend to be jealous. Watching him like this—gentle, light, his guard down so far it was practically gone—you felt the warmth of this little family settling into place around you.

And across the table, Alpine purred on. Content. Safe. Home.

—

Night fell quiet over the Watchtower, the kind of stillness only broken by the hum of distant aircraft traffic and the occasional creak of the unit’s HVAC system. In the soft light of your bedroom, all was warm and calm. Alpine was nowhere to be seen for now—last you saw, she’d been investigating the inside of Bucky’s tactical boot.

You were already under the covers, curled into Bucky’s chest, his vibranium arm stretched behind your pillow and his flesh hand lazily tracing patterns over your shoulder. Nothing heated, nothing rushed. Just the kind of closeness that spoke in silence—shared warmth, steady heartbeats, fingers laced under the sheets like they belonged there.

“I love this,” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed into your hair. “Me too.”

But then, after a beat, you felt him shift. Just slightly. Then again—shoulders squirming, fingers pausing on your back.

“Bucky,” you said, suspiciously. “Why are you moving?”

He hesitated… then whispered like a kid asking for dessert past bedtime, “Can I… go pet Alpine now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve been waiting all day to cuddle with her,” he said, completely sincere. “I thought maybe she’d sleep on my chest tonight or curl into my arm or something.”

You groaned and buried your face in his neck. “You traitor. I lose my spot to a rescue cat in less than twelve hours.”

But before either of you could move, there was a soft thump from the hallway—then the elegant click of tiny paws against the wooden floor. Alpine strutted into the room like she owned the lease.

“There she is,” Bucky whispered excitedly, already shifting up onto one elbow with a smile spreading across his face.

You watched, amused, as Alpine paused at the edge of the bed, assessed the situation like a military tactician… and then, with no hesitation whatsoever, padded to your side and flopped down against your stomach. Not between the two of you. Not on Bucky.

Just you.

Bucky blinked.

You stared.

Alpine let out one satisfied purr, stretched long across your middle like a sash, and closed her eyes. Her white fur glowed in the soft bedside lamp, her little pink nose twitching like she’d claimed her spot and would not be moved.

“…She picked you,” Bucky said, sounding personally wounded.

“Oh no,” you gasped, not hiding your grin. “Oh no, Sergeant Barnes, I believe you’ve been rejected.”

“I fed her salmon bits tonight,” he said, genuinely baffled. “I carried her around PetSmart for two hours like she was royalty. I said she was my girl!”

“She was your girl,” you teased. “But clearly, she has her eye on the throne now.”

He narrowed his eyes, flopping back onto the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Betrayal. In my own bed.”

You reached over with a smirk, gently shifting Alpine so she now lay in the middle between you both. She didn’t curl into a tight ball, like she had before—instead, she stretched out flat and long, paws extended forward, belly facing up proudly as if to say yes, I own you both now.

Her purring started almost instantly—loud and deep, vibrating against the mattress like a lullaby.

“Well,” Bucky murmured, giving her a fond scratch behind the ear, “if she’s in the middle, then at least I get joint custody.”

You smiled, snuggling closer, your arm brushing his over Alpine’s fluff. “Looks like the bed’s not just ours anymore.”

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to your temple, and whispered, “I don’t mind. As long as you’re both here.”

And under the soft hum of Alpine’s purring, the three of you slowly drifted off to sleep—safe, warm, and home.

[lovesickchoi]

📁 FILE 02: CHOI YEONJUN

⋆·˚ ༘ * Casual hookups transcend into more when Yeonjun can’t keep his feelings at bay anymore. With praise on his tongue and dirty words a testament of his devotion to you, he’s determined to show you what he’s been holding back.

✦ Love Language: Words of Affirmation

pairing: yeonjun x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 2.4k

warnings: smut, f!reader, fwb to lovers, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, a lot of dialogue, dry humping, no protection

🗂️ click here to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

Choi Yeonjun could coax an orgasm out of you like no other.

Powerful, blinding, earth-shattering climaxes that left your sensitive body trembling and your mind floating, all while the silver chain around his neck swung low and draped over your skin, marking you as his.

The bite of his bottom lip between his teeth and the scrunch of his forehead, taut with lust. The kiss of his lips to your cheek as your eyes flutter open, drawing light and reality back in. And finally, the slow drag of his hips as he exits your body.

Then he stands up from the bed and puts his clothes back on, already facing the door.

"So I'll text you tomorrow?" Always Yeonjun's last words, barely giving you time to come back to yourself before he's out of your bedroom.

This was the unfortunate nature of your friendship with Yeonjun. Or whatever a sane person might call the predicament you'd found yourselves in. A situationship. A fuckship. A please-don’t-let-me-be-the-only-one-feeling-like-this-ship.

The next day drags on like usual, but this time, you find yourself dreading it—dreading the moment you’ll have to feign a smile for Yeonjun again. He’s already waiting for you at the end of the street like always, ready to walk into your friend’s apartment by your side with another late night ahead.

His arm is naturally slung over your shoulder, keeping you to him, as you greet everyone inside. The proximity never fails to mess with your head. He was always like this around everyone. Touching you, teasing you, making flirtatious remarks that would leave your cheeks rosy. And somehow, more nights than not, it ends with you folded in half beneath him.

You know all too well how it goes. He’d say and do all the right things, painting a picture so perfect it almost felt real. For a moment, it would make sense. Like he wanted you the way you wanted him. Then he’d zip up his pants and leave.

But everyone saw it tonight.

The way Yeonjun stands just a little extra close to you. How your drinks were always shared. His fingers sometimes finding your leg under the table like the flesh of your thigh was calling to him, inviting him to stake his claim.

You hear someone—probably Beomgyu—joke in your direction. “Just fuck already.”

While you choke on your drink, Yeonjun doesn't even blink. “Who says we haven’t?”

The group howled. You laughed too. But you didn’t look at him, not really anyway, afraid he'd catch the frown evident on your face.

There was always a line neither of you dared cross. In public, you let the world think it was just a little playful recklessness.

Behind closed doors, it was different.

He touched you like worship. Fucked you like he was starved—afraid you’d vanish the moment he stopped. He’d murmur things against your skin you weren’t supposed to remember, call you his, tell you how good you were, how only you made him feel like this. You’d cling to his shoulders like you believed it, too.

Lately, after those doors closed, Yeonjun had been acting off. Sex was still intense. Mind-numbing, even.

Yet something would shift the moment he came. How he'd untangled himself from your limbs like it hurt. The way he whispered a soft “Later,” like he was trying not to say something else.

He never used to leave so fast. You never used to care. Not until the cold, empty space next to you began begging to be filled with his warmth again. You wish you'd known what changed.

So when Yeonjun asks if you want to go upstairs, just the two of you, you don’t even question it. The apartment is too crowded, too warm, the buzz in your chest a little too strong to ignore. You nod, letting him lead the way, even though you already know how it’s going to end.

It only takes mere minutes before you're both stripped down to your undergarments, with you face down in the bed as he traces your skin like a canvas.

Yeonjun is straddling your thighs, admiring every inch of your body lying on your stomach before him. His fingers begin just behind your ear, tucking some hair away. Slowly they drag further down your skin—neck, shoulder, spine cascading with goosebumps, waist, hips, the plump skin of your ass and the lacey material that hugged it.

He finally grips you with both his hands, squeezing tightly before bending over your body and biting ever so softly on your earlobe. Your thighs press together, desire pooling in your thin panties already.

Then his voice is whispy and needy against your cheek. “You feel like home to me. I could look at you like this forever.”

It’s unclear what about this that makes you snap. But you’ve had enough being misled, enough of the unkept promises.

“You always say things like that when we're like this. It doesn’t mean anything.” You call him out, only half joking, mostly defensive.

Yeonjun stills—his gaze heavy on only your face. His response pulls the air straight from your lungs.

“It means everything. You just don’t listen.”

It’s then that you realize your eyes have begun filling with tears, which you refuse to let spill. The weight of the situation comes to a head

"Hey," Yeonjun coos. His hands are on your shoulders, forcing you to turn onto your back so he can see you properly. His eyes widen at your red eyes looking back at him, noticing the way you suddenly closed off. He slides next to you on his side.

"Yeonjun, what is this?" You huff, tears gone and replaced with anger. "Because I do listen. That's the problem. I listen to you and I believe what you say. And then you're gone."

He thinly smiles, but there's a layer of shame behind it. “There’s a reason I had to stop hanging around after. If I stayed any longer I might’ve scared you away.”

"Why would you scare me away?" You're nose to nose with him now. You don't know if it was you or he who scooted closer.

"Because I’d stop pretending. I'd ask you to stop seeing anyone else. I'd want to be enough for you. And if I wasn’t, I don’t think I could take it."

You freeze, finally seeing Yeonjun for all that he is now.

He speaks again when you can't find the words. “You think I tell just anyone they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me while they’re falling apart under me?”

Your voice is quiet, but sure. "Then stop pretending. Yeonjun… I want more. I just didn’t think you did." Your hand drifts up his chest, resting over his heart. "You're more than enough.”

Yeonjun’s breath stutters. “Then let me show you what I’ve been holding back.”

He surges forward, capturing your mouth with his. He finally lets himself feel everything he’s been holding back.

Your legs tangle instinctively as you both remain on your sides, facing each other, bodies pressed close. His hand is on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard line of him, twitching through both your underwear, pressing right where you need him.

His forehead rests against yours as he begins to move—subtle rolls of his hips that grind his cock against your center, dragging friction with each pass.

“Feel that?” he breathes dreamily. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”

You gasp, your own hips moving now, chasing the pressure, the closeness, the heat. Your fingers clutch at his flexed bicep, needing something to hold onto.

A broken moan catches in your throat. “You think I don’t feel the same?” You whisper, your tone shaky. Your hips roll to meet his, earning a low groan from his lips. “You leave and I lie in that bed wishing you’d just… stay. I don’t want anyone else, Yeonjun. Just you.”

He lets out an uneven breath like he’s been waiting to hear that for months. His hand slides down to your ass, splaying wide across the flesh to drag you even closer, like he could mold your bodies together.

“Say it again,” he begs, grinding harder now, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “Say it while I make you cum like this.”

You’re already gasping, forehead pressed to his, needing more and loving that this finally means something.

Every slow grind of his clothed cock against your soaked panties sends shocks through your core. You cling to him, overwhelmed by how good it feels.

“O-only you, Yeonjun.”

The second the words leave your mouth, he lights up like a match to gasoline. He groans and grips your ass even tighter, rutting against you now with less restraint. This sends pleasure coiling through your gut.

“Fuck,” he breathes against you, panting now, almost angry with need. “You’re always so perfect for me.”

His hand slips between your bodies, cupping your pussy over your panties and pressing down just enough to make the pressure unbearable. Your head falls back, body shaking as he rocks against you harder, dragging your panties across your swollen clit.

“You sound so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “Every moan—fuck—it’s going straight to my cock. Wanna fuck you slow after this. Real slow. Wanna feel you pulse around me ‘til you’re crying.”

"Please keep going. I need you." You whimper.

“You gonna cum for me like this? Just from grinding? Look how fucking needy you are. I know your body better than anyone, don’t I?”

You nod frantically, already there. The build-up has been burning in your gut since the moment he touched you, and now it’s crashing down in waves—your orgasm slamming into you so hard your knees buckle.

“Yeonjun—” you cry, nails digging into his arm, your hips jerking helplessly against his cock as you cum.

He holds you through it, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other still cupping your cunt, letting you ride the high out on his palm. You’re soaked, panties ruined, your whole body trembling as he whispers filth against your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. You cum so good for me.”

And then you feel it, how soaked he is.

The front of his boxers is soaked with pre-cum, the evidence of how hard he’s been holding back nearly obscene. He doesn’t even ask. He pushes his boxers down and tosses them aside, freeing himself. You’re still recovering, but the second his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and peel them off, the heat returns.

You don’t even think—your body moves on instinct. When he comes back down beside you, you grind against his thigh this time, and his jaw clenches at the feel of your bare, soaked folds dragging against his skin, leaving a trail of arousal in your wake.

“Holy shit,” he bites back a moans, watching you with heavy eyes. “Greedy girl. Get on your stomach again.”

You obey, letting him guide you down. He straddles your thighs like before, but this time, everything is different. This time, he knows you’re his. You know it, too.

“Ruin me, baby,” you whisper into the sheets.

He strokes himself slowly behind you, lined up and leaking, watching the way you lie flat before him. He lowers himself, chest and stomach pressed to your back, the weight of him trapping you.

“I meant every word I’ve ever said to you in bed,” he says softly before proceeding, brushing your hair to one side. “Every.” A kiss to your temple. "Single." To your neck. “One.” To the corner of your mouth.

Then he pushes in, sliding into your sensitive heat inch by inch until he’s fully buried. You choke on a moan.

“God, you’re so tight,” he whispers. “Still clenching from that last orgasm, huh? You’re gonna give me another, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He starts to move slowly at first, grinding into your sweet spot with every stroke. Your body reacts on its own, already building again. He keeps you flat against the bed, one arm cradling your waist, the other laced with your fingers when you reach back for him. He intertwines your fingers without question.

You’re gasping now, high-pitched whines escaping your lips, babbling about how good it feels, how full you are, how close you are again.

“Don’t stop, please, fuck—Yeonjun—gonna cum again.”

“Shit, baby, you’re so good,” he grits out, rutting into you harder now, hips slapping against your ass, the sound filthy and wet. “So fucking perfect. So tight around me I can barely think.”

You sob into the mattress, your whole body vibrating with pleasure. His cock taps that perfect spot again and again, and you can feel his rhythm falter, his breath hitch. He’s close, so close.

“So sexy like this. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me, baby?”

“On my ass,” you whimper. “Wanna feel you.”

That’s all he needs. His hand slides into your hair, gripping tight, pressing your cheek to the mattress. His thrusts grow frantic, your clit grinding against the sheets, the pressure sending sparks down your spine.

“I love you,” he gasps, voice raw. “I love you so fucking much—”

And then you’re both coming.

You first, spasming around him, thighs shaking uncontrollably as the friction sends you over the edge a second time. He pulls out quickly, stroking himself fast as thick, hot ropes spill across your ass and lower back, his body trembling above you.

Neither of you moves. Your face is still buried in the sheets, breathing hard. He leans down, kissing your spine, your shoulders, your cheek. He's extra tender now.

But the fire in both your bodies hasn’t gone out. Not even close. Yeonjun knows it, too. Not when you two are finally on the same page.

His lips brush your ear. “I think we’re gonna need a bed we can ruin properly.”

You smile, still breathless. “Then let's get out of here. I want more of you."

"Come on," he chuckles, rolling off the bed. He extends a hand to you, gently tugging you up with him. "Yours or mine?"

You hesitate to say yours, and he senses it. His hands cup your face on each side, lowering his head to meet your eye line. "It's okay. You’re not sleeping alone tonight. I won't make that mistake ever again."

You don’t say another word. There’s no need to.

Clothes are slipped back on in silence, the air still thick with everything that just passed between you. When you head back downstairs, hand in hand, you don’t miss the wide eyes and gaping mouths staring after you. Yeonjun tosses a few half-hearted goodbyes over his shoulder without slowing down. You stay close behind him, face tucked shyly into his back as he guides you out the door.

But behind your flustered smile, pride, giddiness, and relief are all wrapped in one. Because finally, Choi Yeonjun was yours.

tags: @vkravenz @bunnysoonie @zznblr @another-lemon-tree @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @beestvng @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn @frenziedpiratetrap @gardnhee @txtsdoll

likes/comments/reposts are always appreciated <3

[thebibliosphere]

Remembering a 'fun' moment through the haze of drugs yesterday when I asked the nurse for something to brace my knees with because I could feel my hips starting to dislocate when they turned me onto my side.

The nurse, god love her, got down to my eye level on the gurney and very sweetly told me that when joints click, they're not actually dislocating, and it's just ligaments sliding over each other causing gas pockets to crackle and pop. This is true for most people and is actually what makes that satisfying crunch sound when you go see the chiropractor. So I knew right away she was thinking, "A chiropractor has told her this; this will be an Educational Moment."

Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how to tell her I know this, and that's not what is happening as a teeth guard was being slipped between my teeth when my GI doctor went, "Did you not read the note I put in her file? She has EDS. When she says it's her joints, it's her joints. Listen to the patient!"

He then showed her how to hold my shoulders in place while he was doing the upper endoscopy exam so my shoulder wouldn't randomly slip out and make my chest muscles seize. As I was laying on my side and he was double checking my position he leaned in and let me know with a wink that he'd asked a physical therapist what to do and hopefully I wouldn't be in too much pain with my joints tomorrow. (I am not.)

He also brought an extra nurse in from the allergy department (Sam) to monitor for signs of anaphylaxis because, apparently, it looks different when the patient is sedated. The fact that I "woke up" from my sedation (I don't think I actually fell asleep) and gave him a thumbs up when he announced "excellent prep" to the room at large made some of the nurses flutter because they'd given me enough fentanyl to knock out a horse, but I have a vague memory of the allergy nurse and the GI doctor sharing a look over the top of my head before starting to talk to me in calm measured tones to let me know it was okay that I was awake, but I needed to stop moving. Was I in any pain? Could I squeeze Sam's hand once for no and twice for yes? Okay, good, we're almost done...

It was a weird but validating experience.

[kotoku]

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - sunday x injured! reader / aventurine x injured! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ angst but with comfort/ fluff in the end

warnings - a bit of angst (?), maybe like two sprinkles..

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

Sunday had been filing through his paperwork, eyes skimming over the contents before tucking it into its rightful folder. The ticking of a clock was the only sound that filled the room, besides the noise of papers being shuffled. It was then his mind had begun to wonder, filtering out the ambiance and recalling the last conversation the two of you had shared before leaving for work. 

“It seems that something urgent has come up at work. I’ll be leaving now, Sunday.” You quickly put on your footwear that you normally use for work, making sure that it isn't loose. Sunday stood near the front door and offered you your bag that held your belongings when you got up.

“Alright, stay safe, my dear.” 

And with a quick peck on the lips, you had set off to work, leaving Sunday in the doorway feeling a little lonely. 

With a shake of his head and the shutting of the door, Sunday had made his way to the bedroom to start his own routine.

There was no need for him to feel lonely. As you would be back in his arms later that day. 

He wouldn’t have had to wait that long, as he was notified of your disappearance by your boss. 

Sunday had dropped whatever paperwork he was doing, the papers that were once neatly organized scattered across his desk. When he had got the call from your superior, knots of dread had weaved itself in his stomach and it made him want to puke. 

He left his office in a hurry, not bothering to close the door fully as he sprinted to the place your superior had sent you to. Your superior had said that you had an assignment within the real dreamscape, something about the memetic entities within it that were disrupting the environment. The group that was sent to the area had lost you somewhere deep within it before they were attacked by those monsters. 

The thought of you being by yourself while facing those things made a shiver run up his spine. He knew how capable you were but he didn’t want to risk losing another person again. 

Not after what happened to his sister.

When Sunday got to the real dreamscape, he had met with the group you were sent with before leaving on his own to find you. He tore the entire place apart, searching for any traces of where you could have gone before stumbling upon a trail of freshly spilled blood. Your blood. 

Sunday cursed under his breath, following the trail that led him through door after door. It was then the trail stopped, your beaten up form sitting up against the wall, a pool of blood beneath you from the blood that you were losing. You were on the verge of unconsciousness.

For a moment he felt his heart stop, hands clenching in anger and fear at what had done this to you. But despite the urge to eliminate whoever was responsible, he needed to focus and bring you somewhere safe. 

You hadn’t registered the footsteps that were quickly approaching you, the gentleness of the person who was carrying you and the soft fluttering of wings against your face, nor the warm grip on your hand while you got transported to the infirmary. It was then when you could barely make out a couple of people above you that you were swept away to darkness.

-----

There was a faint noise coming from beside you. It was the sound of the monitors that were hooked up to you, the IV pole sitting nearby with its saline bag half empty. The bright lights that flooded your vision as soon as you woke caused you to wince, slowly shuffling in the medical bed you were set on. 

The pain you felt was almost unbearable. The myriad of bandages on your body and the cast around your leg were proof of where the pain originated. You could barely move around that much with how everything was restricting you, yet you attempted to find a comfortable position. 

However, you felt a lightweight resting on your thigh and a loose grip holding your hand. 

“Sunday..?” You croaked out, peering over at the man who slept peacefully with some of his loose feathers around you. You figured that he must’ve been so stressed that some had popped right off, poor thing. 

Reaching out a hand and carefully swiping away some of his disheveled hair, you saw the bags that had formed under his eyes. How many days has it been? It was clear that he had spent a while there with you, waiting for the moment that you’d awaken, but his tiredness eventually caught up to him. You couldn’t help but shake your head, feeling a little guilty you had caused your lover this much stress. 

Sunday stirring awake snapped you out of your thoughts. He slowly blinked his eyes open and lifted himself away from where he lay as he noticed that you were awake.

“_____..? You’re awake..! Thank Xipe..I almost thought you weren’t going to wake up anytime soon.” Sunday breathed a sigh of relief, the feelings of stress and anxiety that ate away at him disappearing. He carefully cupped your face and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get there in time, My Love…”

“Sunday… You don’t need to apologize for that. I should be apologizing for my recklessness…” You murmured, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You sunk further into his touch, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. 

“Nonsense, you were only doing your duty.” Sunday firmly stated, nudging you to look him in the eyes. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, not just from the pain but the reassurance that Sunday gave you. You would not have known what to do if either one of you lost the other, so you were eternally grateful that both of you were alive at this moment. 

A brief silence fell between the both of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable but rather comforting, enjoying the presence of each other for a little longer before the nurses would check in on you. 

“If you think about it… You’re kind of like my guardian angel, Sunday.” Sunday chuckled. 

“I guess I am."

-----

You and Aventurine had an..interesting start to your developing friendship that brought you to where you are now. The both of you had first started working at the IPC in the same department so the frequent appearances of the other never really surprised either one of you. There would be times when you’d guys share small talk, but that never really lasted long as you got swept away to another assignment. 

When you had started rising through the ranks, there was an unspoken rivalry that began to form between you and Aventurine. You never really cared or bothered to feed into this ‘rivalry’, but you had to admit that it was pretty funny seeing Aventurine so fired up if something fortunate happened to you. This led to constant teasing and bickering whenever the two of you encountered each other. It got even worse when you got paired to the same assignment as him. Yet he did know when to take things seriously so you both could get the job done. 

It had been a rather uninteresting day of work for Aventurine, bound to his desk and reviewing important documents that had been submitted to him from his subordinates. Eventually, he had concluded everything and placed them into a cabinet for further inspection later. He just wanted to take a quick walk to stretch out his body after being strapped to his chair for the entire day. 

The scenery outside the spaceship was what you’d expect, yet he never grew bored of it. Sometimes he’d stare out into the vast sea of stars and planets, distracted by the idea of just how small he and his problems were. In a way, it distracted him from the stresses of life.

Aventurine had begun to near the area where people would come in, a group of workers that had recently finished an assignment passing him. He noticed some familiar faces amidst the group and started to wonder when you’d be back to see him. 

It had been 2 weeks since you left for your assignment, giving him a long kiss that left him dazed before departing. Aventurine didn’t lie when he said that he’d miss you as he whined about you leaving for 2 weeks, clinging to you when it was the morning of your departure. Yet he whined a little less when you promised to text him whenever you had a moment of free time.

Speaking of which… The last message you sent to him was a while ago, around 2 days in fact. He never heard anything from you since you bid goodnight to him which made him a little worried. But he knew more than anyone that you were a capable and dependable person, so his worries grew a little less. 

…Yet he could feel a small twinge of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about the time span. 

The opening of the doors leading to the docking area brought him out of his thoughts, glancing over to check what ship had come back. To his surprise, it was you..but in crutches and countless bandages as you awkwardly made your way past the door with someone assisting you. 

Aventurine stared for a couple of seconds, registering your beat-up form before rushing over. “_____!”

You had strained your neck to look towards where the voice came from, seeing a distressed Aventurine catch up with you and your coworker.

“Ah.. Aventurine–,” you started, giving him an awkward smile. “--didn’t think I’d see you so soon. How has work been–”

“What happened to you??” Before you could finish your sentence, Aventurine had taken your coworker’s place, assisting you towards the infirmary. You were trying to explain what happened during your mission and brushed off the injuries, as it was never uncommon to come out with a few scratches and bruises… Aventurine disagreed in a heartbeat.  

“Missions can be dangerous so you must take care of yourself.” Aventurine huffed, getting you checked into the infirmary. 

After you were settled into your room with everything taken care of, Aventurine came back in to stay by your side. You could tell he was upset and concerned for your well-being, sighing as he continued to whine and lecture you about safety. 

“You should’ve given me a call, you know I’d be there in a heartbeat–” 

“Aventurine…”

“Who knows what could’ve happened to you if the circumstances were different–” 

“Aventurine.”  

“Whatever happened… Whoever did this to you I’ll–”

“Aventurine!” 

He stopped pacing around the room, head snapping towards you when your voice finally got his attention. You sighed softly, looking down at your hands that had medical equipment attached to them. “I’m okay. Everything is fine–” “How can you say that?” 

Aventurine gave you a frown, crossing his arms as he stood at the foot of your bed. “You came out with multiple injuries, hell you could barely walk. How could you say that everything is fine?” His eyes had narrowed, staring down at the tiled floor that reflected back at him.

You stared at him for a bit, thinking of what you could say to him. After all, he was right, you came out bearing a multitude of injuries that would leave a couple of scars. But..you didn’t want him to be so worried for your sake, you couldn’t bear burdening him. The grip you had on the sheets loosened, your head leaning back onto the pillow. 

“I…” A pause. “..I’m sorry, Aventurine. I didn’t want to cause more stress for you but.. I’ll be fine. I promise.” You firmly spoke, watching him look back at you before coming over to sit beside you.

“No I… You don’t need to apologize.” Aventurine sighed, moving to hold your hand. “I was just..scared. I’m sorry for lashing out on you, _____.” His gloved fingers felt warm against your bare skin, thumb gliding over your knuckles. 

You hummed in response, your hand interlocking with Aventurine’s. “I know, Aven.” He gave your intertwined hands a kiss, pressing his forehead against them.

“Geez… You really don’t know how worried I was when I didn’t hear anything from you for two days.” Aventurine whined, head moving to rest on your stomach. You stroked his hair, fingers gliding through his golden strands as he sighed in bliss. 

“...I missed you.” He mumbled, peering up at you like a kid through his lovely eyes. You smiled softly at him. 

“I missed you too, Aven.”

“You won’t believe how work has been without you, though…” “Really? I’m all ears.”

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - sorry for the sudden disappearance everyone! 😀 i hope that you guys haven't missed me too much but i'll promise to post stuff soon! thank you guys for your patience and i hope you guys have a safe and wonderful break/week!