#this is my first time doing this lol my bad

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 8

paige x azzi

warning: mentions blood, fighting

word count: 8.9k

a/n: hi guys 🫣 so sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger last chapter but it needed to be done lol. i hope this chapter brings you a little comfort as much as it’ll make you sick to your stomach! i was harassed to post without minimal proof reading so please let me know if there’s any mistakes. like always feel free to leave comments, reactions or ideas 🫶🏼

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Azzi laid curled in Paige’s bed, the usually warm sheets cold around her, with the smell of Paige lingering heavily in the fabric. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow as she stared across the empty space all night.

She got up and left at the first sight of sunrise that morning after taking a long shower and putting on some of Paige’s clothes. Before leaving she grabbed Paige’s spare set of keys not wanting to leave her house unlocked.

Three days passed before Azzi had calmed her mind enough to format a few texts but they went undelivered meaning Paige’s phone was off. So Azzi tried to be patient. She told herself that Paige needed space just like she’d taken herself three days before reaching out. Told herself that maybe she was in the gym every hour of every day again, working through whatever was sure to be going on in her head. But by day six, it felt like the silence was clawing at her throat and she felt sick knowing she played a part in whatever Paige was feeling.

When Cam’s name lit up her phone on day six, Azzi swiped to answer it immediately.

“Hey,” she said, her voice completely horse after not using it for days.

“You okay?” Cam asked tentatively.

“Yeah…Have you heard from Paige?”

Cam paused. “No. I was actually calling to ask you that. I think her dumbass broke her phone again or something; none of my texts are going through and my calls are going straight to voicemail.”

Azzi’s stomach lurched when she realized Cam didn’t know anything either. “We got into a fight,” she said quietly, her eyes locking on the far corner of the room so they didn’t start glossing over again. She really didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. “A few nights ago. Almost a week.”

She could hear Cam shifting on the other end of the line. “What kind of fight?”

Azzi let out a humorless laugh. She knew she was being a little rude but God it felt like a stupid ass question. “A fight, Cam. What do you mean what kind?”

Cam was quiet for a moment and Azzi could feel the tension building through the phone in that silence.

“I just…I need details. Whatever you wanna give me so I know what’s going on with her,” Cam said her voice strung a little tight. “Paige doesn’t turn her phone off like this. Yes she get’s upset and goes MIA but I always know where she is, she always at least checks in.”

Azzi closed her eyes, wiping at the tear that dropped to her cheek harshly. “She was in her gym when I showed up late to her house. She was already…not okay. Frustrated.”

“Ok and what happened?”

“I tried to get her to come inside and we went back and forth for a little bit…I brought up the club and she got defensive so I got frustrated. It just spiraled before I could figure out what was going on in my head.”

Cam stayed silent as she listened to what happened.

Azzi’s voice cracked. “I fucking flinched, Cam.”

Cam blinked on the other end confused. “What? What do you mean?”

Azzi covered her face trying to stop the tears, she was so fucking tired of crying. “She was trying to calm things down saying she didn’t wanna fight and she reached for me, wanted to grab my face like she always does…she does it everyday Cam.” She chokes back a sob before continuing. “But I flinched before she could even touch me.”

The line was quiet so Azzi just kept going, talking about it for the first time.

“She didn’t even do anything wrong, Cam. She was just trying to stop the fight before it got bad,” Azzi whispered. “And I flinched like I thought she was going to hurt me. The way she looked after that…” Azzi let out a choked breath. “She looked so…broken. Like I destroyed her. Like she couldn’t believe I thought she could ever…” She didn’t finish the sentence as she sucked in a deep breath.

Cam exhaled slowly, her own worry starting to rise knowing how Paige was. “Fuck.”

“I swear to God I know she’d never hurt me,” Azzi said. “I swear I know. I just wasn’t thinking and everything happened so fast.”

Cam didn’t say anything for a few moments then she said, “I’m coming over.”

“Cam—”

“I’m coming Azzi. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Azzi didn’t bother to argue with her, she didn’t have the energy to be honest. She just sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes and staring at her phone like she could will Paige’s name to appear on the screen.

Cam didn’t say much when she got to Azzi’s house that night. She just took off her shoes at the door, climbed in the bed behind Azzi, and wrapped her arms around her like she’d done a thousand times for Paige before. She didn’t offer any empty words that probably wouldn’t help. Just the warmth and the sound of someone else breathing that Azzi had been missing for days.

By morning, Cam was already on her phone calling people. Azzi stirred awake when she felt her shift on the bed, her eyes blinking open to find Cam’s eyebrows drawn tight and her voice low as she spoke to someone who clearly didn’t have the answers she was looking for.

When Cam turned and noticed that Azzi was awake the first thing she said was, “She’s not at the cabin or anywhere in Minnesota.” She lowered her phone before adding “And she hasn’t been back to her house either.”

Azzi sat up, her throat already tight for the day before she could brush her teeth. “Then where else can she be?”

Cam didn’t answer because she didn’t know. She stared at the screen in her hand for a while before feeling like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. When she realized she scrolled through her contacts and tapped one name and held the phone to her ear.

It rang once. Twice and then a third time.

Azzi felt like her heart climbed higher with each one and she didn’t even know who Cam was calling.

Then the fourth ring cut off.

“Hey,” DiJonai’s voice echoed through the phone. “She’s with me. Stop worrying.”

Cam exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days and Azzi’s head snapped toward her when she heard it.

“She’s okay?” Cam asked, already putting the phone on speaker so Azzi could hear.

There was a long pause. “No not really,” DiJonai said.

Cam frowned. “Is she telling you anything?”

“No,” Nai replied. “She won’t talk to me about whatever happened. She just showed up at my door at four in the morning looking like somebody shot her damn puppy in front of her and she’s been like that all week. Won’t eat much unless I literally force her. I don’t think she’s been sleeping either. Just…off somewhere in her head all day.”

Cam’s heart dropped hearing the state of her sister. “How in her head?”

DiJonai sighed. “I don’t know…I’ve never seen her like this honestly and you know there’s been some shit.”

Cam looked at Azzi whose face was unreadable as she looked at the phone. “Can you give her the phone?”

DiJonai sighed again before saying, “Yeah hold on I’ll try.”

A moment passed then they heard footsteps and a door opening. There were muffled voices before the clear sound of DiJonai saying, “Just stop being an asshole and let her hear that you’re alive.”

Azzi clutched the blanket tighter around her legs as her eyes locked on the phone like it might will Paige to pop up in front of her.

There was a moment of static and shuffling, then a voice barely made it through the speaker sounding cracked and hoarse. “…Hello.”

Cam exhaled sharply. “I should kill you Paige.”

Another beat of silence. Then Paige’s voice came through again dryly, “That might not be so bad right now.”

A loud thump came through the phone, followed by a muffled “Ow.” An unmistakable play by play of DiJonai smacking the hell out of her.

Cam rubbed her temple. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, Cam,” Paige mumbled.

“You’ve got a fight in three weeks,” Cam reminded her gently, even though she was 100% sure Paige hadn’t forgotten.

“I know.”

“You ready?”

“No.”

Cam’s chest rose. “You gonna be ready?”

A pause and a fake laugh. “No.” Paige’s voice sounded empty. Completely detached from the present and it scared Cam more than anything else.

“Do we need to cancel it?” Cam asked carefully.

“I’ll be ight,” Paige stated. “If not, I’ll just get a real nice and deserved ass whooping out of it. Maybe finally find out what it’s like to get knocked out, you know.”

“That’s not funny Paige.”

“Well.”

Cam looked over at Azzi, whose eyes hadn’t moved from the phone once. Her eyes were glossy and her fingers were tight where they gripped her blanket.

Cam decided to ask what she already knew. “You talked to Azzi lately?”

There was a long pause at the question. Then Paige’s voice came back, somehow sounding more distant than it was before. “Why’d you call?”

Cam blinked, not surprised by the deflection. “Because your phone’s off and you’ve never done that before. I was worried.”

Silence again, suggesting Paige was done with the conversation. Cam didn’t wait to hear the inevitable dial tone. “Have you talked to Azzi?”

“Why are you asking me about her?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

Paige was too exhausted to go back and forth so she just closed her eyes. When she spoke again her voice had softened in the worst kind of way. “I fucked it up,” she said, like the words hurt her throat to say. “So I’m just…not tryna talk about it right now.”

Azzi looked down, her nails digging into her palms. Cam saw it but didn’t say anything. She just pressed Paige for a better answer “How’d you mess it up?”

There was a rustle on the other end. DiJonai must’ve moved toward her or something, but the line stayed quiet for a few seconds before Paige finally spoke.

“She was just tryin’ to talk to me that night and I was so far in my own head I couldn’t see straight. She brought up the club and…I got defensive. I thought she didn’t get why I did what I did. Like she was just trying to write it off as me being—I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to prove anything. He put his hands on her, Cam.” Her voice was shaking, despite how flat it sounded.

“And I didn’t wanna argue with her Cam. I swear I didn’t. She’s everything to me I lo—” Cam took the phone off speaker when she heard her starting to break down.

Azzi had to turn her head away as tears hit her collarbone. Cam put a hand gently on her back.

“I should’ve been calmer. I should’ve put my hands in my pocket or something. Done more to make her feel safe but I didn’t and that’s on me. All of it.”

Cam swallowed hard, her tone gentler now. “Do you want to talk to her?”

There was a long pause. Then Paige’s voice came so small it barely carried over the speaker “…She’s with you?”

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut from not being able to hear Paige’s response.

Cam looked at Azzi with a soft smile in her eyes. “She’s been calling and texting you,” she said gently into the phone.

There was hesitation on the other end. A shuffle. DiJonai’s voice carried softly, saying, “It’s ok.” Paige finally spoke, “Can you…can you give her the phone? Only if she wants it.”

Cam held it out.

Azzi took it with a trembling hand, wiping the tears that had already fallen. She held the phone up to her ear and cleared her throat lightly. She spoke first but her voice cracked around the edges. “Hey.”

On the other end, there was a long exhale. Like Paige had been holding her breath for days. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and even over the phone, the weight of her tone landed deeply in Azzi’s chest..

“You don’t need to apologize,” Azzi said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” Paige replied softly. “I never should’ve—” She stopped herself, took a long, shaky breath. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the phone. “I miss you too.”

A quietness filled the space between them.

At almost the same time , Cam stepped out of Azzi’s room and DiJonai quietly exited her guest room, leaving them alone.

There was a pause in the soft static of silence before Paige’s voice came through, horsley. “Have you been eating?”

Azzi took a breath. “I’m trying.” Then after a second she added, “You?”

“I’m…cutting,” Paige said after a small hesitation.

“You don’t start cutting until two weeks before your fight.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Azzi waited with her lips pressed together. Paige tugged at the edge of the blanket wrapped around her legs, curling into herself just a little, her silence saying more than anything she could say.

Gently, Azzi asked, “Are we going to talk about it?”

Paige’s voice was soft as she said. “Of course. Just not over the phone.”

Azzi nodded even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Are you coming back soon?”

“I can’t. Not until the fight,” Paige said.

“Why?”

Paige stared at the ceiling, trying to swallow down the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to say that she hadn’t trained since that night. That every time she so much as thought about getting in the cage, all she could see was Azzi flinching. That the image of the woman she loved looking afraid of her was lodged somewhere deep in her bones, making it impossible to move.

“There’s an extra trainer down here in Dallas,” she said instead. “Thought I’d take advantage of that.”

Azzi knew Paige was lying. She could tell by her voice but she didn’t push. “You don’t feel ready?” she asked instead.

“I got a lot of catching up to do,” Paige said.

The line went quiet again, both of them teetering on the edge of something delicate and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

Then, softly, Azzi asked, “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”

Paige’s voice broke gently through the silence. “I think we’re talking…and that counts for something right?”

Without speaking, both girls slowly shifted to lay on their sides, mirroring each other across state lines. Phones cradled against their cheeks, tucked into pillows. The air between them was still tentative, still filled with a slight tension and recent pain but it wasn’t unbearable anymore after hearing each other's voices.

There were small silences, tiny hesitations as they talked, unsure of how to be anything but soft with each other right now.

Paige found herself smiling, just a little, just from hearing Azzi’s voice. Her cadence, her sighs when her girlfriend said something a little outlandish, the quiet way she said Paige’s name like it still meant something to her.

And Azzi, she felt her chest loosen for the first time in a week. Like maybe she hadn’t ruined everything. Maybe she hadn’t completely broken the woman she loved. She still had a piece of her even after that night.

They stayed like that, talking about nothing and everything, until the weight between them started to shift just enough to make breathing easier.

…

Those three weeks with Paige in Dallas and Azzi in LA were hell for both of them, respectfully.

In Dallas, Paige didn’t so much live as exist. Days passed like static, one bleeding into the next. She now slept too much and barely ate, only getting through meals when DiJonai sat in front of her like a sentry with her arms crossed, waiting for every last bite to disappear from the plate.

It wasn’t until two weeks before the fight that DiJonai had enough of Paige not training.

So she yanked Paige out of bed early that morning. She didn’t say a word as she threw a hoodie at her aggressively, and drove them to the gym in complete silence. Paige didn’t ask where they were going, she didn’t really care. She just stared out the window, her thoughts drifting everywhere but where she was.

The second they stepped inside the empty gym, DiJonai threw a pair of gloves at her. They hit her chest and dropped to the floor. She didn’t bend to pick them up, just looked at them.

“What are we doing here?” Paige asked flatly.

“You have a fight in two weeks,” DiJonai said, already starting to stretch on the mat.

“I know.”

“So you need to train.”

“I said I know.”

DiJonai turned around with her jaw clenched. “Then put the damn gloves on, idiot.”

Paige didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t thrown a punch in three weeks.”

“I’ve been working out.”

“Jogging on the treadmill and lifting half your usual weight isn’t working out. It’s you bullshitting.”

Paige just stared at her.

“You do realize you’re risking your life, right?” DiJonai snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked away. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I think you’re so in your head about other shit that you’re forgetting what stepping into a fight means.” DiJonai took a step closer. “This isn’t some play fight, Paige. This isn’t sparring or an exhibition. You know this shit is real. If you go in there half-assed, half-ready, half-whatever it is you’re fucking feeling you don’t come out the same.”

Silence.

DiJonai’s voice changed. “I can’t watch you do that to yourself…I won’t. And I think you knew that and that’s why you came here instead of going to Minnesota. You know I won’t coddle you like everyone else will.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

DiJonai just waited. Her patience wasn’t infinite, but her care for Paige had been since they met for some reason. It was one of the reasons they got along so well.

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground again.

“Put them on,” DiJonai said again, quieter this time.

“I can’t,” Paige said, her voice cracking.

“Why the fuck not, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked everywhere but at DiJonai. Her voice came out defeated when she spoke. “Cam told you about the club, I’m assuming.”

DiJonai gave her a small nod, her eyebrows narrowing. “Yeah…what about it?”

Paige exhaled like the weight of the night was sitting directly on her lungs. “After that night Azzi was just off. She thought I didn’t notice but I could tell it freaked her out and I just—I was so mad at myself for letting her see me like that and our argument just confirmed everything I already knew.”

DiJonai folded her arms across her chest. “Okay…but Paige, you knocked some dude out for smacking your girlfriend's ass. You did exactly what every damn testosterone-filled man would’ve done.”

“I know,” Paige mumbled, still clearly upset with herself.

“I’m not saying it was the right thing,” DiJonai added quickly, “but Azzi’s overreacting a little.”

Paige’s head snapped up at that. “She’s not,” she said simply. “She’s not overreacting. Don’t say she can’t feel how she does.”

“She is,” DiJonai insisted, calmly. “You’re acting like you blacked out and don’t remember what happened. You didn’t. You lost your cool because some idiot violated your girlfriend and you’re a natural protector. There’s a difference.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” DiJonai agreed. “But if you had actually blacked out, like everybody keeps claiming, you wouldn’t have stopped when security got involved. You would’ve swung on them. You would’ve left him with more than a fucked up nose and a busted cheek. But you didn’t. You stopped.”

Paige shook her head. “I lost it Nai.”

“Yeah you snapped. That’s not the same as being out of control,” DiJonai pushed. “You’re scared because you think this proves something about you but it doesn’t.”

“It proves I’m not who she thinks I am,” Paige mumbled.

“No, it proves you’re human,” DiJonai said back. “One who cares clearly. You snapped because someone disrespected the person you love, not whatever story you’ve been narrating in your head.”

Paige didn’t respond, her hands just trembled slightly even thinking about putting on the gloves.

DiJonai took a small step closer so they were face to face. “She’s scared, I get that. I understand that she has the right to feel what she feels. But don’t twist that into thinking you’re not worthy of her or love or whatever dramatic ass scenarios I know you’re coming up with. You messed up, that’s it.”

Paige looked down at the mat, her voice suddenly small. “She flinched Nai.”

Paige’s eyes brimmed with tears but they didn’t fall. “When we were arguing. I raised my voice a lil bit and I ain’t like that so I was tryna stop the argument and she flinched like I was gonna…like I was gonna hit her.” Her throat bobbed hard as she choked on her own breath. “That’s not something even you can explain away. That’s not someone overreacting, she was scared of me. I’m supposed to be where she feels the safest and she’s scared of me.” As she said this a single tear dripped from her eye before she wiped it away aggressively.

“That might’ve been her reaction, yeah. But that doesn’t mean she’s scared of you Paige. It means it’s complicated and that you have to work through it with her.”

Paige didn’t answer.

“You think she’d still be calling you if she really believed you’d hurt her?” DiJonai asked gently. “You think she’d still pick up the phone for you when you text her?”

Paige sat on the mat with her head bowed. DiJonai let her sit there for a few minutes hoping that she’d will herself up. Talk herself through everything going on in her head.

But after a while DiJonai exhaled. She could see it in Paige’s eyes, in her posture. She was feeling more than just guilt, whatever it was sat bone-deep. Sitting in a place where words weren’t going to reach her.

“Alright,” DiJonai said. “If you’re convinced you can’t control yourself, let’s test it right now.”

Paige looked up at her in confusion, just in time to see DiJonai pull her own hoodie off and toss it aside.

“Get up.”

“What?”

DiJonai stepped closer. “Get. Up.”

Paige didn’t move so DiJonai yanked her up. “DiJ—”

Suddenly as soon as she was on her feet DiJonai pushed her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble back. “How far you think I can get before you snap?”

“Stop,” Paige warned.

But DiJonai didn’t. She got in Paige’s face, eyes to eye. “Do it. Show me how man you think you can get. Show me how you think you can just black out.”

“DiJonai—”

Another shove. This time it was harder on her chest.

“I’m standing right here. Disrespecting you. Pushing you. Provoking you.” She shoved again, more force behind it. “Lemme see you tweak like you think you will on the people you care about. Let out all that anger you been holding in.”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she took a tight breath. She wouldn’t look at DiJonai, she just stared past her.

“What you not mad yet?” DiJonai prodded. “You don’t wanna swing on me? You a pussy all of a sudden now?

Paige didn’t move.

DiJonai’s voice lowered. “What’s wrong? You scared imma flinch like your lil girlfriend?”

Paige’s eyes snapped to hers clearly pissed off but she still didn’t move.

DiJonai waited for a reaction. A twitch in her fingers. A slip, anything to provide Paige right.

But all Paige did was breathe. It was gritty and broken, but controlled.

A few seconds passed and then DiJonai leaned in, softer now. “You’re pissed,” DiJonai said. “You’re hurt. You’re drowning in your own head and you still didn’t touch me. You know how to control yourself Paige so please stop acting like you’re one step away from hurting the people you care about.”

Something cracked when DiJokai said that. Paige’s face crumpled before she could stop it and her shoulders folded in as the weight finally caught up to her. Her hands trembled as her breath hitched twice. Then she was crying, not just tearing up and letting one or two tears drip, but full on crying.

She stepped forward and DiJonai caught her easily. Paige leaned into her shoulder like her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, letting out a broken, muffled sob that had been sitting in her chest for too long.

DiJonai held her there and just let her cry. “You’re ok I swear.” Paige only cried harder, her fingers gripping the back of DiJonai’s shirt .

They stood there for a while as Paige just let herself cry, sobs falling out of her here and there until she physically didn’t have anything left in her.

When Paige’s breathing started to get a little more even, DiJonai leaned back enough to look her in the eye. “Now pick up the gloves.”

Paige blinked a few times, her eyes still wet and puffy, after a second she slowly bent down to grab the gloves.

…

Back in LA, things weren’t falling apart like they were in Dallas but they weren’t quite holding together either.

Azzi hadn’t left the house in days. Cam, Rickea, and Rae had made it their personal goal to keep her distracted, throwing together movie nights, spontaneous baking sessions and a lot of tequila. They dragged out old board games, ordered her favorite takeout, and gave her space when she needed it. But no matter how many activities they lined up everyday, Azzi stayed emotionally elsewhere.

She was still eating, still showering, still going through the motions. But her heart wasn’t in it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Paige looked at her right after. Like Azzi had confirmed her worst fear in a split second and in the rest of that second, all Azzi had wanted was to take it back. To reach for her. To tell her she didn’t mean to move, that it wasn’t about her. That she wasn’t scared of her, But but hadn’t been able to. And now Paige was in Dallas, and she was in LA, and there was nothing but space between them.

That night, after Rae had gone to bed, Cam and Rickea found Azzi curled up in the corner of the couch with a hood pulled over her head and her eyes distant. The TV was on but it was muted, the lights only flickering across Azzi’s face.

Rickea sat next to her and Cam brought over ice cream, putting it on the table.

“Why did I flinch?”

Cam looked at her softly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Azzi hesitated and they let the silence sit comfortably until she was ready. “I don’t know why I did it.”

Rickea sat next to her, listening.

“I grew up in a happy home,” Azzi said. “Two parents who love me. My dad doesn’t raise his voice, and my mom’s idea of discipline was a disappointed stare. So it wasn’t a reflex.”

Cam stayed quiet.

Azzi looked down at her hands as she talked herself through her tangled thoughts. “I wasn’t scared of her. I’m not scared of her.” She corrected herself. “But I think something about the way she looked, like she’d stopped feeling anything. It kind of hit me weird. Like all this energy was coming off of her, and it just—my body reacted before I could stop it.”

Rickea tilted her head. “You think it’s from something you saw before?”

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t think so. It wasn’t like a memory. It was more like...I don’t know. Shock. That night...I think I was scared of what she was feeling. Not what she’d do. I knew she wasn’t going to do anything to me.”

Azzi looked down, playing with her cuticles. “She looked at me like I confirmed every worst thing she’s ever believed about herself.”

“I should’ve said something,” Azzi added again. “But, I let her walk out thinking I didn’t feel safe with her.”

Cam’s voice was soft. “So tell her when you can. Make sure she hears that.”

Azzi’s eyes stung. “I just want her to come home.”

Rickea leaned her head against Azzi’s shoulder. “She will babe.”

It was 1:43 AM in Los Angeles. 3:43 in Dallas. That same night, technically, when DiJonai got Paige to pick up the gloves and Azzi worked through her feelings on the couch.

Paige was sitting on DiJonai’s balcony with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she stared at the sky.

Back in LA, Azzi was curled on her patio couch in her backyard, with one of Paige’s hoodies keeping her warm. She hadn’t planned on texting her, but her fingers moved anyway.

A message lit up Paige’s phone.

Azzi [3:43 AM]: You up?

The response came to Azzi almost instantly.

Paige [1:43 AM]: yeah wassup mama ?

Seconds later, Paige’s phone lit up again with an incoming call and she answered on the first ring.

“Hey you,” Azzi said softly.

“Hey,” Paige echoed back, just as soft.

“What are you up to?”

Paige tilted her head back, eyes tracing the constellations. “Just...staring at the sky.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling.

Azzi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she raised her phone and took a picture of the sky from her backyard, and sent it.

Paige pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to look. The moon was the same in both places.

She brought the phone back to her ear. “What you doing out there?”

“It’s cold in the house,” Azzi said.

“Turn the heat up.”

“I don’t want to.”

The words hung there.

They both knew what she meant. That it wasn’t really about the cold. That she wanted Paige’s body next to her to keep her warm. But neither of them said it.

After a few quiet seconds, Azzi asked, “Why are you up?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

There was a pause, then a soft smile ghosted Paige’s lips. “You.”

“What about me?”

Another pause before Paige said quietly, “How much I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, smiling a little. “I miss you too.”

A moment passed before Paige spoke again. “I went to the gym today.”

Azzi perked up. “That’s good. Did you hit?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi smiled with her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

Paige’s voice caught a little. “Why?”

Azzi shifted in her seat, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands. “Because...you weren’t before.”

Paige stared out at the sky. “How’d you know?”

“Your voice.”

“What about it?”

“It’s lighter now. It always changes a little after you hit for real. When we were talking the other day it never changed. So I knew you weren’t letting anything out.”

Paige was quiet, her eyes stinging at Azzi noticing something as small as that. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked. “If you knew I was lying.”

“Because I would lie too, if I thought it might make you feel better.” She let that sit before asking, “That’s what you were doing, right? Trying to make me feel better?”

Paige blinked hard, nodding even though Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice was quiet again when she spoke. “DiJonai reached out to me.”

Paige blinked, straightening up a little. “She did?”

“Yeah...asked for my number.”

Paige let out a soft laugh. “She’s annoying like that.”

Azzi smiled faintly at the familiar sound. “We talked…” she started, then trailed off. She didn’t need to finish. Paige already knew what they talked about.

“We can talk about it when I get back,” Paige said gently.

“In two weeks?” Azzi asked, the time sounding heavier when she said it out loud.

Paige nodded instinctively, then remembered Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah,” she said. “We can’t talk about this over the phone.”

Azzi understood so she didn’t press for anything more.

There was a lull in the conversation before Azzi shifted the energy like she always did to make Paige lighter. “You know your beautiful precious Audi is probably at the airport, getting dirty and racking up a pretty big bill.”

Paige let out a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Paige smiled. “Go get it for me then if you’re so worried.”

Azzi scoffed playfully. “What?”

“You know where my spare key is.”

“You want me to go get your what…two hundred and forty five thousand dollar car and just drive it?”

Paige grinned. “Mhmm.”

Azzi laughed, it was that easy, bright laugh that Paige had missed more than anything.

“Just don’t try to put any gas in it like you did the Escalade,” Paige added.

“Oh my God,” Azzi groaned, laughing louder. “How was I supposed to know it didn’t take regular?”

“You shouldn’t have been trying to pump gas in the first place princess,” Paige said softly.

Azzi smiled to herself for a second before she said. “I miss that.”

“Me too.”

Azzi stretched her legs across the outdoor couch cushion, pulling Paige’s hoodie tighter around her. “So…what else is going on in that head of yours?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Everything. Nothing. Depends on the hour really.”

Azzi gave a soft laugh. “I see you’re still dramatic, huh?”

“Can’t help it.”

Azzi smiled. “Whatever.”

Paige let her words sit in the quiet for a beat before asking, “How’s Cam?”

“She’s good. She tried to get me to go on a hike in a cave earlier.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Hell no.”

Paige laughed. “It’s the bugs isn’t it?”

“Yes you know I hate them and dirt…and being hot.”

They sat in silence for another stretch but this time it was the kind that felt familiar. Like Azzi just letting her girlfriend be her usual self for a second.

Eventually Azzi asked, “You nervous?”

Paige blinked. “About what?”

“The fight.”

Paige was quiet for a long moment. “No…” Then, “I don’t know. I think I’m thinking more about what I have going on than who I’m fighting.”

Azzi’s voice was soft. “Do you want me to come?”

Paige’s eyebrows knit slightly. “Do you want to come?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Paige looked up at the sky like it might give her the right words. “I just…didn’t know if you’d want to see it. After everything you know.”

Azzi’s heart twisted hearing how fragile Paige sounded. She didn’t sound like a fighter right now, more like a girl trying not to lose herself in her own thoughts.”

“Of course I’m gonna be there, pretty girl,” Azzi said gently.

Paige swallowed hard. “I’d understand if you didn’t want to though. It wouldn’t make me think less of you or anything like—”

“Baby,” Azzi interrupted softly.

Paige’s stopped rambling. “…Yeah?”

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper. “Stop.”

Paige’s eyes fluttered closed. “Okay.”

They kept talking again about nothing, about everything. They didn’t solve anything, didn’t touch the deeper pain just yet, but the call was another thread pulling them back to each other. Azzi talked about Rae accidentally burning popcorn and setting off her smoke alarm. Paige told her about the old lady who almost knocked her over at Whole Foods trying to get the last jar of almond butter before giving it to her because her eyes reminded her of her granddaughter.

They laughed. They reminisced. They went quiet. They missed each other so loudly without saying it.

By the time a soft orange hue bled into the Dallas skyline, Azzi yawned, curled tighter in Paige’s hoodie.

Paige smiled faintly, watching the sun peek out over the horizon. “…I’ll talk to you later?”

Azzi whispered, “Of course.”

The call ended quietly and Paige just sat there for a second, holding the phone to her ear like she could still hear her.

Eventually, she walked inside.

DiJonai was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee in a tank top and sweats. “You were up all night,” she said, without looking up.

Paige blinked slowly, dragging her feet toward the hallway. “Yeah.”

DiJonai sipped. “You should get some sleep, Oscar the Grouch.”

Paige cracked a tired smile. “She told you she calls me that?”

DiJonai just hummed, not answering as she turned to grab some cream.

Paige smiled again, softer this time, before disappearing into the guest room to finally get some sleep.

The next two weeks felt like an eternity that stretched until it couldn’t anymore.

Every day, Paige trained. Her trainer had flown to Dallas and she stayed in the gym, trying to silence the chaos in her head by drowning it with sweat and repetition. It worked sort of. At least during the hours she was moving, she didn’t have to think.

When she wasn’t training, she forced herself to sleep. Heavy, dreamless sleep that made her forget everything for the rest of the day. Her eating had improved, barely, but it still wasn’t where it needed to be. She tried, but every time she ate she felt like she was going to throw up so meals were only half-finished, picked over and left cold.

She and Azzi talked a good amount of times. Nothing too deep. Just enough to keep the tether between them tight. They shared updates, teased each other lightly, and exchanged sleepy goodnights. It was effortful, but it mattered. It reminded them they were still trying.

…

The day before the fight, Paige flew to Vegas. The weigh-in was quick, her body lean under the lights. When the numbers flashed on the screen — 132 — the entire room looked surprised . Murmurs passed across the room. That was way too low for someone like her who was a natural 141.

Paige barely had time to step in her hotel room before her phone was ringing.

She answered on the second ring, barely getting out a “Wassup” before Azzi’s voice came through sharp.

“Paige 132? Are we serious?”

Paige winced. “Az, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Azzi snapped, not yelling at her but clearly upset. “You told me you were eating better.”

“I am baby,” Paige mumbled, rubbing a hand over her face. “Just…not enough, I guess.”

Azzi exhaled hard through the phone. “Paige. You don’t have anything to prove by—.”

“I’m not trying to.” Paige interrupted her gently.

“I need you to take better care of yourself. I know you’re not doing it on purpose but you’re hurting yourself, which hurts me baby.”

Paige didn’t say anything.

There was a knock on her hotel room door a second later. She opened it, still on the phone, to find DiJonai standing there with way too many food containers and colorful drinks balancing between both arms.

“I got hydration and hella carbs,” she said, stepping in the room without waiting for Paige to say anything.

Azzi’s voice came through the phone. “Is that DiJonai?”

“Yep,” Paige sighed.

“Good. Let her bully you into eating. I’m serious.”

DiJonai dropped everything onto the table like it was an intervention. “She told me the number,” she said flatly. “Now eat. I don’t care what it is, pick something and start chewing.”

Paige rolled her eyes but dropped on the couch and pulled a container toward her.

Azzi’s voice softened. “I’m not mad, okay?”

“I know.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, Az.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t say bye. Paige just stayed on the phone while she started eating, Azzi’s quiet presence on the other end somehow making the food go down easier.

…

Everyone from L.A. had made the decision without saying anything out loud: none of them would go to the back to see Paige before the fight.

It wasn’t out of distance or anything like that. They just all understood what seeing Azzi before the fight might do to Paige. What it might undo. Azzi hadn’t argued about it even though the ache in her chest to be near Paige had grown to be almost unbearable. She just nodded when they suggested they just go to their seats early today, understanding more than anyone.

So, it was just DiJonai, Paige’s trainer, and her cutman in her concrete room behind the arena. The space was filled with the buzz from the fluorescent lights and anticipation that pressed through the walls and into Paige like a second skin. But instead of the calmness Paige usually carried before a fight; that eerie, focused stillness. Today, she was constantly moving.

She paced in tight circles with her jaw clenched. She cracked her neck every few minutes, rolled her shoulders and threw combinations at the air. Sometimes she’d slap the side of the travel bag hanging nearby, then step back like it offended her when it swung back with an equal opposite reaction.

DiJonai sat on one of the chairs with her legs crossed, watching her the entire time. “Paige sit still,” she said a few times. Each time with a little more insistence, a little more urgency.

But Paige didn’t listen.

Her trainer with his arms folded, finally stepped in front of her mid-pace, holding up a hand to make her stop. “You good?” he asked.

Paige nodded, but it was a twitch more than a nod. Her hands were in fists and her shoulders were tense.

He studied her for a second. The bags under her eyes weren’t from a bad night of sleep, they were from weeks of actual unrest. The sharpness in her face was no longer from her conditioning, it was depletion. The dullness that used to flicker behind her eyes before a fight now weighed heavier.

He exhaled and lowered his voice. “You got one round tonight.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“You got one round,” he repeated. “To make something happen or I’m calling the fight.”

She stared at him, stunned at how serious he sounded.

“I’m not gonna watch you get hurt tonight because your head’s not in it. I’d pull you completely if they hadn’t already announced your card. You either go out there and handle it in one round, or I’m stopping it. You’re not walking in the cage just to bleed or whatever you got going on kid. You got me?”

Paige swallowed hard and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest.

She heard him loud and clear.

DiJonai watched the interaction from the corner. She didn’t say anything but Paige saw the worry in her eyes when she looked at her.

She felt too much in that split second. Way more than what she was supposed to be feeling before a fight. Every ounce of pressure and pain and disgust she’d been feeling rising to the surface.

She took a deep breath and another to ground herself. Slow her racing heartbeat down as the noise of the arena filtered through the hallway walls, muffled but rising.

The lights above the cage were blinding, humming faintly in her ears as Paige stood in the winning corner, the one reserved for reigning champions. Her gloves were already tight on her hands but nothing felt real.

Across from her, in the challenging corner, her opponent bounced on the balls of her feet psyching herself up like they always did.

The announcer’s voice echoed somewhere beyond the fog in Paige’s head, drawing cheers from the crowd then the bell rang and she stepped forward.

And then everything just went blank.

It wasn’t like tunnel vision. It was more like drowning. Paige moved on instinct instead of reading her opponent. Her body was reacting without her brain processing what was happening. She didn’t remember measuring distance. Didn’t remember her footwork. Didn’t remember loading up or throwing anything. She doesn’t remember anything.

But her fists landed and they landed hard.

Each punch came suddenly but fast enough that her opponent couldn’t react: a left hook that snapped her head to the side and an immediate cross that sent blood flying, a knee to the ribs that folded the girl in half. Then the blur of movements that pinned her to the cage like a ragdoll. The crowd roared in admiration, the cage floor trembled, and Paige kept going.

She used her opponent like a motionless heavy bag and she didn’t even blink. Her corner wasn’t yelling instructions, they were stunned into silence, watching what they thought was about to be a disaster of a fight turn into something completely different.

Then an uppercut Paige threw cracked her opponent's jaw and it seemed like the sound echoed through the arena. Her eyes rolled back before her body hit the floor and she was out cold.

That’s when Paige heard the bell blaring in her ear effectively bringing her back to her body. Her chest was rising and falling fast and her lungs were begging for air she didn’t realize she needed.

The referee grabbed her wrist and lifted it into the air shouting something she couldn’t process before the crowd erupted.

But of course Paige didn’t smile. She blinked, dazed and confused, trying to place herself in the moment. Trying to figure out what just happened.

Her gaze slid to the other side of the cage where the girl was still down with medics crouched around her, speaking frantically, shining a light into her eyes.

Suddenly, Paige felt sick. Not dizzy. Not tired or exhausted. Just…sick to her stomach.

Because what the hell just happened?

She looked down at her gloves and her throat bobbed when she saw the blood smeared along the knuckles, dried and wet all at once. She checked her arms, her torso trying to figure out if it was hers, hoping somehow it was hers, then she squeezed her eyes shut because she didn’t want to know what she already knew.

Her heart pounded so loud in her throat it felt like it might tear through skin. Her mouth was desert dry, and her tongue was heavy, like she’d been chewing cotton. Each breath came tighter, hotter, like the air in the arena had turned into a sauna, a full hundred degrees and rising faster.

The cheers were still echoing as she pushed past everyone, barely aware of the cameras trying to catch her face, her reaction. She didn’t give them one, she never did but this time she felt a numb hollowness.

She walked mechanically through the back corridors, yanking her gloves off in disgust with shaky hands the second she cleared the lens of the last broadcast camera. She threw one that landed hard on the concrete floor behind her and the other one just slipped from her hand.

By the time she got to her assigned room, the adrenaline was still shooting through her nerves but she felt something else rising quicker.

She stumbled straight to the bathroom, her body dropping to her knees at the toilet before she could do it herself and she threw up.

Nothing of actual substance really came up because she hadn’t eaten much. But her body just needed to let something out before it consumed her from the inside. She stayed there until physically there was nothing for her body to let out, just white foam from the acid of her stomach burning her throat.

When it was over, she sat back on her heels, breathing hard. Her palms pressed against the cold tile until her head just fell back to rest on the wall. She stayed there for a few moments, unsure if she had the strength to get up, if she even wanted to get up but eventually she did.

She gripped the edge of the sink and pulled herself up, blinking against the harsh overhead light.

Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Sweat clung to her eyebrow and jaw and her eyes were glassy and red. She looked tired. Like someone who’d somehow won something and lost something at the same time.

She rinsed her mouth, spat once, then again. She whipped a towel across her face and rolled her shoulders back to straighten her posture. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth then she stepped out of the bathroom into a room that was full of people.

Her trainer stood in the corner still talking quietly, almost excitedly with her cutman. DiJonai sat near the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching Paige carefully the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Rickea, Cam, and Rae were there too, but their faces blurred into the background.

Paige’s eyes moved across the room in a frantic motion, barely registering anyone until they landed on Azzi.

The moment she saw her, Paige’s chest lightened like she could finally breathe. Her feet moved on instinct, carrying her forward a few steps until she froze. Remembering the last time they’d been this close, how the night had ended and Paige still didn’t know what version of herself Azzi saw when she looked at her now.

But then Azzi opened her arms and Paige’s legs carried her the rest of the way unsteadily until she collapsed into her chest. She clung to her like her presence alone was the only thing keeping her here, her arms wrapped around her tightly and her face was buried deep in Azzi’s neck.

Azzi held her up whispering, "I'm so proud of you baby."

That broke whatever fragile hold Paige had on herself and she dry-heaved once into Azzi’s chest, the weight of her words hitting something too raw inside her. Her face stayed buried in her neck trying to muffle the quiet, shaky sounds, ashamed of how much she needed this. How much she needed her.

Everyone in the room exchanged silent glances and one by one, they slipped out the door quietly to give them space.

When it was just the two of them. Paige finally let herself feel and she felt like everything was crashing into her chest at once. Azzi held her close, with her arms steady around her frame. She whispered soft nothings in her ear: small comforts, high praises, reminders that she was here, that Paige wasn’t alone anymore. Every so often, she pressed a light kiss to her forehead gently, rubbing at Paige’s sweaty back but Paige couldn’t stay present.

She was blinking too fast, breathing too shallow. Her arms were slack on Azzi’s shoulders, and even though she hadn’t let go of Azzi, it felt like she was floating somewhere far away. Her eyes darted across the room, tightening her jaw every so often, teeth working against the gum she’d thrown in after vomiting, trying to mask the sour taste in her mouth.

Azzi noticed it all, noticed how Paige’s senses seemed to be in overdrive so she moved to ease them.

Carefully, she guided Paige to a seat, crouching slightly to ease her limp body into the chair without jarring her. Once Paige was settled safely she stood up, moving to turn off the lights plunging the room into darkness other than the light coming in from the bottom of the door. The room was already quiet, the echo of voices gone as soon as the others left. Azzi moved back over to where Paige was and gently reached for Paige’s face with one hand squeezing her cheeks a little. “Spit it out,” she said softly.

Azzi cupped her hand as Paige let the gum fall into it. Azzi threw it away before kneeling down in front of her.

“Give me your hand,” she whispered.

Paige lifted her hand and Azzi took her fingers and guided them gently to her chest, pressing her palm flat against the space over her heart. Paige’s hand was freezing cold and shaky but Azzi’s heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath it.

Azzi placed her hand over Paige’s, holding it in place. “There,” she murmured. “Close your eyes and just be with me right here, beautiful.”

Paige’s head fell back against the wall as she fluttered her eyes closed. The rhythm she felt beneath her palm wasn’t her own, but she let it be her center. The constant beat of Azzi’s heart was the only thing that didn’t feel too loud, too much, too fast. They sat in silence like that for what felt like a long time. Then finally, Paige whispered, “I don’t know what happened.”

Azzi’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean, baby?”

Paige swallowed hard, her hand still resting over Azzi’s heart. “The fight Az. I don’t remember any of it.”

Hearing that Azzi didn’t have any words to offer. Nothing she could say that would make that easier to swallow for Paige. So she didn’t try; she just moved forward, sitting up enough to pull Paige’s head to her chest, wrapping her arms around her again.

Paige let herself be held, tears slipping silently down her face. “Can we go back home?”

Azzi glanced down at her. “To LA? Tonight?”

Paige nodded, not lifting her head.

Azzi nodded too, brushing her fingers through Paige’s damp hair. “I’ll make it happen, baby.”

[killmymind]

Conversation is currency Shapes become a language Square eyes and sunglasses Finding faces in the trees

[sooopster]

Gonna reblog bc i have a good, but kinda long story

CW for allegations of bigotry, pedophilia, and grooming

Background lore: I attend a private, Christian school that has grades from pre-k to senior and this situation was set when I was a freshman. It's also pretty renowned in the city.

Last school year, an anonymous confessions account about my school was created on Instagram and students were using a form website to confess usual wild stuff like teachers being bigoted, students fucking, drug shit, pedo/grooming accusations, etc. I actually made an insta acc just to see the blog lol. Somehow staff got wind of it and messaged the account to come clean, but the user said no because the confessions aren't on school grounds and y’know free speech in ye old America.

Students began using the account to schedule/announce riots in the bathrooms to protest against the staff. I can only assume why they bothered doing this is because one: the restricting free speech thing, or two: the allegations of staff being creeps are true. Both scare tf out of me. Eventually one of the riots succeed and a boy's bathroom got trashed with a toilet cover and a trash bin being shoved down respective toilet bowls. Could've been more extreme ngl.

The school eventually held an assembly for the freshmen about the whole thing (they thought the person running it was in our grade at the time). The dean was the most pissed. He's one of those strict people that know they're powerful and thus become smug assholes that need to be humbled so bad. Side tangent but someone confessed that he was a pedo and another confessed that he was gay for the principal so make of that what you will. The dean also started questioning students that were following the account which made me panic and delete my new insta because even though I didn't make the confession account, I knew damn well that I would look hella suspicious due to my anxiety.

Roughly a week later, a new rule is laid out that phone usage during school hours is completely banned for all students. This wasn't just because of the account but it was one of the reasons. For context, highschoolers are allowed to use phones during passing period, break, and lunch. In this school freshmen are still classified under middle school so the other grades including mine couldn't use phones at all in the first place. Apparently, this rule will carry over next year, so we’ll never get the privilege of using our phones now. (kill me /j)

The owner of the account eventually gets caught and deletes the blog. I find out months later through my theater friends that the person behind the account, get this, doesn’t attend the school anymore. They were expelled earlier that year for reasons idk. ITS LITERALLY THE FUCKING MEAN GIRLS CLIP SHE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED BC OF SOME DICK THAT GOT BOOTED BRUH THE SCHOOL LITERALLY CALLED THE COPS AND WE LOST PHONE PRIVLEGES AND THE GOOD WILL OF EACH OTHER OVER THIS

Anyway here’s some of the confessions i saved before the account was deleted if anyone wants to see. As far as i know my classmates are normies that don't use tumblr so we're good. (Another CW warning for the same topics plus additional nastiness.)

while this school is fancy and all it fucking sucks it's literally a prison here bro

it’s my first year here and moving from a progressive but poor charter school to a rich but conservative private school is not for the weak

Any other (religious optional) private school kids wanna share the craziest thing that happened at your school?

I’ll start: my science text book had an entire section about biblical proof of fire breathing dragons, and they used us for child labor occasionally but I feel like that’s normal for private schools

[jjonqseob]

you gotta beg for it

pairing: wooyoung & f!reader

summary: woo's gonna make you beg for his cock.

genre: smut

tws: dry humping, oral (m!receiving), raw sex (cause, when not?), desperate reader, nicknames (beautiful, baby, slut, bitch [yikes]), degradation(???), dirty talk, spanks

authors note: i made it longer than i expected lol, english is NOT my first language blah blah blah. i wrote this half asleep, so there's probably gonna be some mistake... i hope not though. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, enjoy c:

your breathing was ragged, you were holding onto wooyoung's shirt so tight it felt like you were going to rip it off, but honestly, neither of you cared.

wooyoung absolutely loves to tease you, and it was known, obviously. but when it came to you, and how needy you get because of him, oh, he was a whole other level of tease.

he wouldn't even let you see his cock, no matter how hard he is, or how much he needs to burry himself deep inside you, he was just going to tease, tease, and tease you.

like now, his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist as you dry hump him... well, tried to. you were desperately trying to get some friction, but wooyoung's grip wasn't making it easy at all, but hey! at least he wasn't stopping you... right?

you mentally thanked yourself for deciding to wear a skirt that gave you a little more access to him.

“woo... can you stop being a brat already?” you whined, and how could you not? he'd been acting like a damn brat for the last almost twenty minutes, and what did you get? just being able to rub your poor, wet pussy against his obvious erection. your wetness had already soaked through your panties at this point, even leaving a wet patch on wooyoung's gray sweats.

“mhn? what do you mean, beautiful?” he asked with that little smile that you loved, and hated at the same time, you hated when he was like that, it only made you despair even more.

“you–” your words were quickly silenced, replaced by a moan as he bucked his hips against your clothed wetness.

“i? what? please, continue.” wooyoung said, still acting oblivious. “can't use your words? so desperate for my cock that you can't even say that you need it?” he teased you as his hands slid down under your skirt, gripping your ass so tightly that his rings would probably leave a mark on your skin.

“i... i need it so damn bad... but you're just teasing me...” you finally managed to breathe out as you bury your face into the crock of his neck, biting a certain spot that you knew he absolutely loved when your soft lips made contact with.and he simply he could't help himself, now you were being a brat, and he needed to punish you.

a whimper escaped from your lips, but the sound was muffled by his skin. you squirmed. his left hand had impacted against the soft skin of your left ass cheek, the small weight of his rings only added more pain, but pleasure at the same time.

“so pathetic.” wooyoung whispered with a scoff as his index finger hooked into your panties, pushing them aside, exposing your wet and dripping pussy to him. “soaking already, huh? such a slut, always desperate and begging for my cock.” he kept teasing you. and you didn't know if it pissed you off, or if it turned you on even more.

“just the tip... please.” your voice came out as a whisper, just audible for him. you pulled away from him, your eyes met his, and the smirk had never left his lips.

“oh my... you want it so badly? i don't know. i don't think that you deserve it.” he began, trailing off the last words as his ring finger began to tease your clit, putting just a little bit of pressure as he tilted his head to the side, pretending to think about your request.at this point, that simple touch could have made you cum because, god, you needed him so bad. but you weren't going to give him that satisfaction, at least not yet... even though the both of you knew the effect he had on you.

“please... i'll do anything.” oh, you shouldn't have said that. wooyoung's ears perked up slightly, and his smirk transformed into a grin, a smug grin.

“anything you say?” he asked while one of his eyebrows raised. and you just nodded slowly, already regretting your words.and in a matter of seconds, you were kneeling about two meters away from your boyfriend, his eyes fixed on you, you looked so pretty like that, and knowing that you were like that just for him made his cock twitch in his pants.

“now come here.” he instructed, but as soon as you were about to stand up, he clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. “who told you you could stand? crawl over here. this is what you wanted, right? then come and claim it like the bitch you are.” he added as he palmed his erection, as if he were encouraging you.

you felt how your insides squeezing the nothing itself, you secretly loved when he treated you like this.you just obeyed, getting in all fours and slowly crawling towards him until you were right between his legs.

“see? it's not so hard to be a good girl, isn't it?” wooyoung 'praised' you, while one of his hands reached for your chin, his thumb traced your lower lip. “so pretty... and all for me.” he murmured, more to himself than to you. you swallowed. hard. his gaze on you was making you feel nervous... and more excited. “now, open wide, baby. let's see how much you can handle.” and just as he asked you to, you opened your mouth, his thumb was still on your lower lip, and he... 'helped' you to open your mouth wider.

your breath hitched as you watched how his free hand worked on pulling his sweatpants down, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his boner in the confines of his pants. wooyoung noticed it, of course he did, without mentioning that when you licked your lips, your tongue reached his thumb. he let out a chuckle, you looked so desperate, and so his.

“this is what you wanted, wasn't it? go head, i won't stop you.” you just managed to nod eagerly, and that only made you look even more pathetic to wooyoung's eyes. but his smug grin got interrupted by a low groan when he felt your warm lips around his reddened tip, you quickly licked his tip clean, swallowing any reminds of his precum. how did you push his boxers down so fast? he questioned mentally before throwing his head back while your tongue traced circles around his sensitive tip. the hand that was grabbing your chin quickly went up, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down.

but when you stayed still, only giving attention to his tip, wooyoung frowned, looking down at you and pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

“don't be a fucking brat right now.” he warned as he tugged at your hair, making you whimper. but you just smiled at him, your eyes never left his.

“i told you, just the tip.” oh, you were going to make him mad.

he let out a scoff, almost a slight ironic laugh. “oh, really? you think that you can tease me now?” and without any warning, he had you on all fours on the couch. wooyoung's hands ripped your cute panties, giving him full access to your pussy, then spanked you hard. a satisfied smile appeared on his face when he saw how you shuddered, and then he saw how a red mark formed on your skin. “you just like to piss me off, huh? here i was, letting you suck my cock, and you just decided to act like a fucking brat.” with those words, he slid his cock all the way into your needy pussy, no preparation, no warning, no nothing, just a raw thrust.

your hands gripped the back of the couch, looking for support as you felt him slowly slide out of your cunt, and then start to penetrate you, but just using his tip. now he was teasing you.

“damn you...” you murmured as your forehead rested against the headboard of the couch, only to receive a hard spank, leaving an even redder mark.

“just the tip, just as you requested.” wooyoung said, he was definitely smirking, even though you couldn't see him, you knew very well that he was.

the torture continued for a long two minutes. wooyoung only teased you for just two minutes before he simply gave up, but can you blame him? he was desperate, so he simply took your wrists with one of his hands, placing them on your lower back while his free hand went to your head, burying your face against one of the cushions that were on the couch, then he began to fuck you desperately, quickly and primally, you couldn't help but smile satisfied, you always got what you wanted from him, he needed you as much as you needed him, after all, you were his princess.

the sound of your skins clashing, wet, sticky sounds, moans, groans, almost cries -from you- filled the room, mixed with the sound of the poor couch creaking with each strong thrust that wooyoung gave you, today he was not having mercy on you at all.

“so fucking tight-” he groaned as the hand that was keeping your face buried against the cushion went to you ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “want me to fill you up, baby? wanna feel my cum deep inside you?”

“yes-” you replied as he kept pouncing into you, you could barely get a word out, but boy did he make you see stars.

“mhn? is that so? beg for it.” god, when he was going to stop being a tease?

“please... please, fill me up.” he couldn't help but smile at how helpful you were, begging him to fill you up. how could he say no to that? you were a complete mess, but a beautiful mess —according to him.—

both of wooyoung's hands went to your waist, grabbing it tightly—probably leaving marks afterward—fucking you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do.

he felt you start to squeeze him even harder, which meant you were close too. oh, he loved knowing you so well. and with one last thrust, he filled you completely, his body collapsing on top of yours, to which you whined, feeling his weight on top of you. and before you could complain that you still hadn't had your orgasm, his words interrupted you.

"now it's your turn, beautiful. let me take care of you." his tone became softer, and you knew him well enough to know it was going to be a long night. a very long one.

hey y'all! kyra here TYSM FOR THE 100 LIKES (idk how the likes are called here). if i see that this has support, then I'll do the second (and last) part¡¡

[uconnic]

Everywhere, Everything - Pazzi

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

summary: paige helps azzi navigate through her rehab process and they finally meet up again in person. not sure if this was what everybody was looking for in this chapter, but it felt needed for what's to come. it's a bit short and sorry for the wait but hope you enjoy!!

part 1 part 2

word count: 2.2k

Everywhere, Everything: Part 3

They Got Their Own Thing

Paige didn’t answer right away.

She reread Azzi’s message – twice. Then a third time. The words blurred slightly, as if they were something sacred, not meant to be consumed too quickly.

“Thank you, Paige. And of course I remember you, superstar. How could I not? 💗”

She let the phone rest on her chest, staring at the ceiling of her darkened bedroom, heartbeat uneven. It was ridiculous – how a single message from someone she barely knew could make her feel like she could finally exhale.

She typed, deleted, typed again. Eventually, she sent a picture.

It wasn’t one she normally showed people. She was waist-deep in a therapy pool, hair slicked back, visibly crying behind a pair of fogged-up goggles. It was raw. Unfiltered. Taken by her mom on a particularly brutal day in month three of her recovery.

Attached was the message, “that was me. 7am hydrotherapy. my knee throbbed so bad i couldn’t see straight. i think i told my mom i hated her that day. still feel bad about that.”

It was a strange way to start a conversation, but Azzi didn’t hesitate. “I’ve thrown a resistance band at my physical therapist twice now lol. He still says I’m his favorite tho 😂”

Paige smiled. It wasn’t long before their messages turned into conversations – real ones. Long, meandering, sometimes vulnerable, sometimes simply stupid. They talked about knee braces and scar cream, about which podcasts made rehab tolerable, about their least favorite exercises (Azzi hated wall sits while Paige hated – well, apparently everything).

But it didn’t stop there. They talked about everything.

Sleep. Or lack thereof. Paige confessed that she hadn’t had a full night of rest in over a year. Azzi admitted she sometimes stared at the ceiling for hours, her mind replaying every play, every jump, every pivot – trying to find the moment it all slipped. She would take melatonin just to quiet her own thoughts.

They talked about pressure. How the second you were “the next big thing,” everyone stopped treating you like a kid. Paige told her about the time a scout cornered her after a game and asked if she was “finally ready to stop being cute and disrespectful to opponents and start being a leader.” Azzi said someone once told her her smile would “only get her so far” in the sport.

“Do you ever feel like people are waiting for you to mess up?” Azzi wrote one night.

“yeah. like they want you to fail. just so they can say they were right about you.”

There was a pause. “Same.”

The texts became a lifeline. Whenever the world felt heavy, they reached for each other. And slowly, something shifted. Paige noticed herself waiting for Azzi’s messages. Checking her phone more. Feeling lighter every time her name lit up the screen. She hadn’t meant for it to happen – whatever this was. But she also wasn’t fighting it.  

Two weeks after their first message, Paige hesitantly sent her number.

“texts are easier than dms. unless you’re one of those people who still uses android 😬”

Azzi grinned at her screen. “1. I’ve never been more offended in my life and 2. What took you so long?”

Their texts naturally became imminent parts to their daily routines. Sometimes Paige would wake up to a two-paragraph rant from Azzi at 3am and respond hours later with a photo of her breakfast and a caption like, “you’re insane. also you’d think i would have mastered smoothie-making by now. this tastes disgusting.”

They talked about everything vulnerable to do with rehab. Azzi confessed she was scared to push herself too hard. That every time she landed from a jump, she couldn’t help but hold her breath and brace for the worst.

“What if I just… never feel like myself again?” she asked once.

Paige sat with that message for ten minutes before responding. “then we find a new version of you. an even better version than you already are. one who doesn’t have to be fearless all the time.”

Another night, Paige admitted something she’d never said aloud. “i think i used to judge my own worth by how many points or assists i put up in a game. like if i didn’t hit 20, i wasn’t enough. that no school would want me and nobody would take me seriously. i hated that.”

Azzi responded almost instantly. “I think I still think that.” There was a long pause. Then: “Or at least… I did. Until you started texting me.”

The vulnerability hung between them like it was the first time the had ever admitted these things aloud, and it was.

For months, while texts and phone calls came often yet, they hadn't yet FaceTimed. Not until one night – three months after their first exchange. Azzi called. No warning, just a ring.

Paige answered, expecting a joke, a meme, something stupid. Instead, she saw Azzi’s face on the screen, eyes wet, lips quivering. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible. “I can’t find my rhythm,” she whispered. “It’s like I’ve lost everything. I shoot and it doesn’t feel right. Like my body’s betraying me. I can’t even pivot without overthinking it.”

Paige blinked, sitting up straight in bed. “Azzi-”

“I don’t know how to fix it,” she choked out, wiping her face furiously. “I go to the gym, I do all the right things, and it’s like… nothing clicks. Like I’m going through the motions just to prove to everyone else that I’m trying. My parents think I’m improving… And maybe I am. But it never feels like it.”

She stopped. Lowered her eyes. “But I’m not okay, Paige. I’m really not okay.”

Paige didn’t speak right away. She just watched Azzi cry – like really cry – for the first time. Unfiltered. Vulnerable. Completely lost in who she was meant to be. 

Paige comforted Azzi for the rest of the night. Knew exactly what to say every time Azzi countered with another cloud of doubt. Talked her down until her breathing steadied again. Whispered, “We’ll get through this, I promise” until Azzi eventually fell asleep. 

And as she watched her friend through the screen, something inside her moved. Without thinking, she whispered, “Good night, Azzi" and ended the call.

Thirty seconds later, she was texting Katie Fudd.

“hi Mrs. Fudd. i hope this isn’t weird that i’m texting you. i know we’ve talked on the phone a bit before, but this is a first. i don’t want to overstep, but i don’t think azzi’s doing okay and i know what that looks like because i’ve been there. i wanted to ask if you would would be open to me visiting? just to stay with her for a few days or a bit longer to be there for her. i really think i can help and that she just needs someone who understands. if not, i completely understand. we haven’t even met in person before so it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Katie responded five minutes later.

“Paige, if your parents are okay with it, we would absolutely love to have you here any time. You’re a good kid and I know how good of a friend you’ve been to Azzi. Let me know when you book your flight and I’ll be sure that Tim or I can free up our schedules to pick you up from the airport.”

“will do. thank you so much, i’ll see you soon. also, could you maybe not tell azzi? kind of want it to be a surprise.”

“Of course, Paige. See you soon.”  

------

Three days later, Paige landed at Ronald Reagan National Airport with a backpack, duffel bag, and a stuffed unicorn that she picked up from the gift shop. 

Katie and Azzi was waiting for her at baggage claim. Azzi was about to start complaining about why she had to come with her mom to the airport (she was told they were just picking up her grandparents) when she and Paige locked eyes. Smiles bloomed on both of their faces. There were no cameras. No fanfare. Just two teenagers who had grown impossibly close without ever really sharing the same space.

They didn’t hug right away. They just stood there, staring, both of them a little awkward and breathless.

“Hey,” Paige said, adjusting her backpack and handing over the unicorn. "I saw this at the gift shop and thought you'd like it."

“Hey,” Azzi replied, looking at the stuffed toy. "I love it, thank you."

Paige laughed softly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re shorter than I remember.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “And you’re exactly as annoying as I expected.”

Then they hugged. And something settled. That week changed everything.

They trained every morning. Paige designed mini workouts tailored to Azzi’s comfortability – closeouts, spot-up drills, form shooting, balance exercises. They watched film together, breaking down footwork frame by frame. They talked late into the night. About fear. About the mental part of recovery. About the anger of being forgotten, the resentment toward teammates, coaches, and schools who moved on too fast and too easily.

Paige didn’t try to fix Azzi. She just listened. And in turn, Azzi stopped pretending.

Slowly, the rhythm returned. Not perfectly. Not every day. But in moments. A clean crossover. A fluid step-back. A jumper that didn’t just swish, but sang for the entire world to hear. The two learned everything about one another on the court. Began to notice each other's tells, knew exactly where the other wanted the ball to end up. Paige made perfect passes to spots on the floor before Azzi even got there. Azzi screened for Paige as she curled around perfectly for a midrange. It was as though they had studied playbooks of each other beforehand for an exam and had passed with flying colors. 

By the second week, Katie and Tim found them on the driveway, playing one-on-one at sunset, both of them laughing so loud it echoed across the yard.

“First to eleven,” Paige said, spinning the ball on her finger.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Loser has to do dishes for a week.”

“Neither of you ever does the dishes,” Katie chimes. 

“Fine. Loser starts doing the dishes.”

“You’re on.”

They were tied 10-10 when Paige hit Azzi with a hesitation step, then drove left. Azzi cut her off perfectly and stripped the ball away. Paige didn’t care, because in that moment, she saw a glimpse of the same Azzi she was mesmerized by all those months ago at North Tartan. Not just in the way she moved, but in the way her eyes lit up from making a good play.  

“God,” Paige gasped, shaking her head in awe. “You’re back.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just smiled, raised an eyebrow, and nailed the game-winner right in Paige’s face. 

Paige threw her hands up in surrender. “Okay, Fudd. I see you.”

Tim and Katie watched with soft smiles from the porch as they saw their daughter’s love for basketball creep back in. 

Later that night, Azzi sat on the couch with her knees folded under her, head resting on her arms. Paige sat across from her. “I was really gonna quit,” she said softly, tracing circles with her finger on the carpet. “Like… I meant it. I was done.”

Paige didn’t say anything.

Azzi looked up to meet Paige's eyes. “But then you messaged me... You saved me, Paige. Probably more than you’ll ever realize. And I'm gonna sound so stupid for saying this because I wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for my injury, but I keep thanking God that it happened to me because it brought you into my life.”

Paige’s eyes were glassy, but her voice was steady. “You saved yourself, Azzi. I just reminded you who you were. Plus, I was just being selfish. You really think I was about to let the best shooter in the country go out like that? When I hadn’t even gotten the chance to play with her yet?”

The silence settled between them, a thousand words unspoken between them and yet, an understanding of one another deeper than they ever thought possible. 

—--- 

A week later, an envelope arrived at the Fudd house. Azzi read the first line and screamed: “USA Basketball invites you to try out for the 2017 U16 Women’s National Team.”

The whole house seemed to shift as they jumped in celebration. Her parents, brothers, and Paige celebrated as though it were their own major accomplishment. It was a letter that nobody had expected in the mail. It wasn’t that Azzi wasn’t good enough, but given her recent absence from competition, it had kind of become the safe assumption that she’d have to wait another year for her opportunity to prove herself again. 

Azzi barely had time to process it before Paige’s phone buzzed. A text from her dad, sent with a photo of the same invitation she had just received back in Minnesota. The house shook again – and it was funny really. The Fudds, who had really just met Paige a couple weeks ago, celebrated her news like she was one of their own.

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, stunned.

Azzi spoke first. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Paige smiled slowly. “That the universe might want us on the same team?”

Azzi’s eyes sparkled. “No,” she whispered. “That it already put us there.”

[ponyatowski]

YEAHHHHH i adore this idea

bodies of water themed today❤️

tagging @new-hyperfixation-every-month @catwyk @lights-at-night @notveryfish @ratuszarsenal @deltapelagicpetrel @leeisshitty @i-eat-vinilinum

fuck it, i’m restarting the tag game (<- guy addicted to posting polls)

post 4 pieces of art you like, let people vote for their favourite, then tag some friends to do the same

my choice of art for today:

tagging @nocylipcowa @skrzynka @sierpowek @lunalunaris @szyszkasosnowa @sazandorable @ponyatowski @nibi-nix @neroushalvaus

[miwiheroes]

One thing I had always been sceptical about that bylers say is that Mike didn't bother to look for El during season 2. At first I thought that maybe people are exaggerating a little, and while, yes, he does end up spending the majority of his time with Will in the season and starts to help him, there is a clear desire from him to find her at the beginning and shown when he actually does see her again.

However, I've had this random thought that uhhhh I find really interesting.

In season 1, El was extremely connected to the UD, and Mike practically begged his friends to use her powers to find Will. He describes her as a weapon, becomes intrigued with her when she points at Will in a photo/ keeps her safe because she says that bad people are after her.

After she's gone, Mike has to suspect that she's in the UD, because he tries to contact her on the walkie which is what she did to contact Will in season 1. (Lol its all connected to will, anways)

Will then gains what his friends dub 'true sight', and he literally describes this to Mike as being able to see into the UD. My question is:

Why doesn't Mike use Will's true sight to find El like he uses El's powers to find Will?

He doesn't ask Will literally one question about whether he can see or sense El in there. The only time he mentions El in Will's presence is during the crazy together scene where he says that El would understand what Will was going through, which is more a manifestation of missing her than wanting her back. He's just reminiscing, instead of actively trying to find her like he did with Will in S1.

This is the same exact thing with D'art. When Mike finds D'art which is a thing from the place he thinks El is, he doesn't say to his friends "Maybe we can find El", instead he says "Maybe we can help Will."

The thing is, I NEVER used to like the idea of Will having powers in S5, because it could just repeat the trope that was played with Mileven in which Mike puts El on a pedestal because of her powers and nothing else, and he would just do the same to Will. BUT now I'm kind of warming up to the idea, because the fact that he never, not once even took advantage of the fact that Will can literally see into the place that Mike suspects El is, shows that he idolises Will's 'super spy' power because he just thinks its incredible, not because its useful.

You might be saying: "But if they had Mike use Will to find El, then that would just ruin his character"

They had no problem doing it with El in season 1 now, did they? They also could have easily done it with literally one question. They could have had him ask at any point, maybe during some of the earlier stages would have been more appropriate, just to show that Mike actually had some hope of finding El still. But no!

[starcurtain]

3.4 Leaks

Been seeing a lot of leaks for HSR 3.4 and...

I know everyone is freaking out about this, that we'll have to fight our old friends, claiming this will be a new cycle already, but I don't think it makes sense for that to be the case--all the other cycles of Amphoreus have started in peace, with non-corrupted titans. If "restarting Amphoreus" doesn't reset the system back to the start of the cycle before the world was ending, then what would be the point of restarting it at all?

Perhaps they're going to go with "Wahhh, the restart didn't work because all the demigods are corrupted by the black tide, ohhh nooo, you have to defeat them first!" Which I guess could work, if being a bit boring...

But personally I wonder if this isn't something else: I feel like everyone is forgetting that Phainon still hasn't passed the World-Bearing Coreflame trial.

My guess is one of four things:

The World-Bearing Coreflame trial will require Phainon to face the memories of those he lost, and these forms are a reflection of what he believes is the suffering of his friends. Defeating these forms will become symbolic of freeing them from the miseries of the current, corrupted cycle in Amphoreus.

Restarting Amphoreus/completing the "Genesis" requires Phainon to use the powers of multiple coreflames, so he has to defeat manifestations of the other coreflames in order to claim their powers.

Restarting Amphoreus requires accurate memories of everyone, but Phainon's memories of his friends are now twisted by his experiences with the titans, so he needs to defeat them and bring back his "true" memories in order to produce the good end.

Maybe, MAYBE Phainon loses it in 3.4 and this is Mydei, Castorice, and Hyacine trying to stop him, but this still seems odd--how would we restart Amphoreus in order to get them into titan form, but still be the bad guys enough to provoke all three of them to attack?

Since we know that we're going to a non-destroyed version of Aedes Elysiae in 3.4, my guess is that the trial of the World-Bearer coreflame will actually be an involved process that might take most of the patch (or, alternatively, that we'll be using Oronyx's power to rewind time because there's something we can only achieve by going back to Aedes Elysiae). My guess is that the entire patch will be about exploring Phainon's past--both the past he supposedly thinks is real (Aedes Elysiae) and hints of the actual truth of what's occurring with Cyrene, Lygus, etc.

Therefore, if we're walking in Phainon's past and present, him being tormented by memories of the friends that were effectively sacrificed to get him to his current position makes perfect sense.

Frankly, I would be shocked if these bosses end up being actually Mydei, Castorice, and Hyacine, and not "It's a manifestation of the coreflames' power," "It's part of your trial to defeat these shades, Phainon," or at most "It's a corruption of the black tide" or something.

I do half expect them to combine and form Voltron to create 3.4's super boss, though.

Basically, I'm not worried lol.

[lovingmayday]

"do i make your heart beat like an 808 drum?" — ft. shidou ryusei

now playing : your love is my drug - ke$ha

prompt : college!au shidou shenanigans (crack)—helping shidou ace his final exam. gn!reader tw: shidou being annoying and a shit ton of dirty jokes hella suggestive lol maybe kind of ooc i'm sorry

notes : i love shidou sm guys he's like a guilty pleasure. this whole fic is basically just shidou w the meme "he wants that cookie so effing bad".

"i think you look better with the glasses. like a sexy dominant secretary."

how did you get here?

you were in the university's library with shidou—the boy you were supposed to be helping study for your class' final exam. it's not something you usually do, as one of the smartest students in your block, and you honestly wouldn't have bothered. if not for the coach of your school's soccer team's persistence.

shidou was their ace. their star player. it was definitely against school policy but the coach promised you a hefty price from his own wallet if shidou passed the class because of you. and you weren't the type to turn down "easy" cash... boy, were you sorely mistaken.

there was a reason he was called a demon on the field (and, occasionally, off the field). he was a fucking menace.

shidou was sat beside you, cheek resting on his fist as his elbow was pressing on the open books on the table he was supposed to be studying. he stared at you with a dumb smirk on his face and relishing in your frustration.

you sigh and let go of your pen to rub the temples of your forehead. "will me taking the fucking glasses off help??" you ask, at you limit.

"jokes on you, your eyes turn me on more," he replies with the grin that hasn't left his face since he saw you. you had half a mind to slap it off his face but he'd probably enjoy it.

"please, for the love of god, FOCUS, shidou!"

"don't say my name like that bro i'm getting hard."

"oh, for fuck's sake!"

"stop yelling at me! i swear to god i'm going to come."

"how badly do you want me to cooperate?" shidou asks, the first time he said words that couldn't cause you to file for harrassment which made you the slightest bit suspicious.

reluctantly, you reply honestly. "was the past half hour of me basically begging for you to cooperate not enough?"

"the thing is you haven't been appealing to my interest at all, sweetheart. i couldn't give two shits about grades and stuff like that." he leans closer to you when you nodded your head, asking him to continue. "what's in it for me if i listen to you?"

you think about it. he'd probably exploit it. no, he'd definitely exploit it. but you could always mute him if he's spamming your phone or being too much. and then block him once you graduate.

"what if i give you my number?"

"come on, you can give me a little more than that."

you think about it more. he wasn't your usual type but you couldn't lie and say that he was unattractive. besides his face, playing soccer his whole life has definitely helped build his physique. and, clearly, he was interested in you (though, you're unsure if he's like that with everyone). in a different situation, you think he could be pretty fun to hang out with.

"my number and a date."

"deal! how about a kiss too?"

"don't push it."

"sweets, be honest," shidou starts, planting his cheek on the his palm and looking at you, discarding his concentration. "do you think i can pass this class?"

you let out a sigh. you're glad you've been able to get to somewhere with your study sessions—shidou's been eerily compliant—aside from the fact that he keeps getting distracted so often. "yeah, if you get a high mark on the final exam."

"that doesn't answer my question, sweetheart."

"of course, don't you trust your tutor?" you roll your eyes.

"well, i trust you but it's not like you're taking the test for me," he replies as he sinks back on his chair's backrest and lets his head fall back, eyes closing as he relaxes. "the exam's only a week and a half away and i haven't had a mark higher than 76% since middle school."

you blink at him. once. and twice. it's the first time you've seen him so calm it caught you off guard. he looked so different. he almost looked pretty if not for the subtle dejection on his features. you catch yourself staring and you coughed to compose yourself, a light flush blushing your cheeks.

"i can work with that," you say, catching one of his eyes open to gaze at you. you rearrange the papers and books on your desk to restart them. "god doesn't give with both hands, after all."

"...and that means..?" he asks, raising a confused brow and sluggishly straightening his posture.

"it means attractive people are usually not that smart. just study harder if you want to ace the test," you explain as you try to comfort him with a smile. it seemed to work.

he thinks it over and nods his head, looking back at his notes highlighted in neon pink and purple. "did you just call me attractive?" he asks, whipping his head in your direction with a growing wicked smile.

you freeze and your face pales. fuck. "i didn't mean it that way," you try to say as bluntly as possible as you looked away with your face heating up.

"are you blushing?? oh, you know i'm never gonna let this go."

the fucker actually did it, you thought when he sent you a picture of his exam (which was definitely not allowed) with his score on the upper right corner. 93% in red ink. which was 13 points more than you were aiming for.

you ended up giving him your number early. it seemed more convenient since you couldn't always meet at the library at the correct time and the other might not always make it.

you were about to type your congratulations when he sent a text.

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: can i claim my prize this weekend? 😈🏆

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: u sure u dont want to throw in the kiss as a congrats?? i worked so hard for u baby please reward me 🤕 ive been such a good boy

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: your the reason i barely sleep at night 🥱🍆 why dont u take responsibility 😈

YOU: you're*

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: god i love it when you talk dirty 🥵🥵🥵

"i still can't believe you have a liscense," you say, giggling to yourself. "and a car?!"

"chicks dig it," he says back, a side of his lip pulling upwards as he uses one hand to turn the steering wheel. he was driving you back to your dorm building after quite a successful date, in your opinion. you enjoyed yourself too much—much more than you should've, in your surprise. "plus, it gives me a lot of freedom for ride me jokes!"

"sure, must've picked up a shit ton of girls with this," you tease, rolling your eyes.

"and guys. jealous?" you could hear the shit-eating grin from his words.

"as if," you sass, ignoring the slight pang in your chest.

silence spreads in the car as you sit quietly, staring outside the car window as you lean against the door.

"do you remember the time you called me sexy and stupid?" shidou asks with his signature cheshire grin, glancing to see you whip your head as your face flushes.

"i never said stupid."

"close enough." he snickers, focusing back on the road. "something along the lines of god can't make you hot and smart at the same time, right?"

you exhale with your nose to calm your nerves. "yeah, i remember."

he fake hisses, sucking in air through his teeth. "he definitely lied."

you shake your head in slight disbelief. "you ace one test and you're this cocky already??"

"baby, i'm talking about you."

it catches you by surprise. you were about to respond but you choke and end up in a coughing fit, his cackles echoing in the car. you pour water down your throat to help you settle down. "you're so??! ok, fuck you."

"puh-lease do!!" he yells out, laughing maniacally. "you don't even believe it! sweets, your hot shit. like, literally hot as shit."

"shut up!"

"you're voice is already foreplay to me. you get me worked up just by telling me i got a question right."

"?? what the fuck?"

"pookie, i have to hold myself BACK whenever i see you," he says, barking the 'back' mid-sentence. "baby, believe me. i would've pounced on you the moment i saw you."

you send him an amused, exasperated sigh as you watch the car pull over to the front of your building, shidou's window closer to the door. you thank him, smiling shyly as you exit his car.

before going in the building, you look back to see shidou's window open, watching you with a small smile. you pause and think it over. you shake your head before walking back to the car.

"you really want to get in my pants, huh?" you ask, a hand resting on top of his car.

"so bad," he replies, eyes glazing over your lips.

you lean over the open window, resting an elbow on the frame as the other hand places itself on shidou's neck. you hear a small hum as you pull him closer, closing your eyes. you barely press your lips against each other before shidou kisses back. you feel shidou's hand reach for your cheek, pulling your face impossibly closer as the kiss gets more heated. he kisses you back with so much fervor like he was starving. when you gasp for air, he takes it as a sign to slip his tongue in and you pull back in surprise, panting.

your eyes open to meet shidou's, starry and dilated. a chuckle almost leaves your mouth from the sight. "you're never getting rid of me," he laughs, teasingly squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.

[damimami1994]

WOW Lub this really got me 🥹😭 I am so emotional, my heart is breaking and mending at the same time while reading this!

“For almost two hours, until his cigar had all but turned to ash, Logan watched as you drew shapes in the sky, enthusiastically recalling the myths attached to your favorite ones-Cassiopeia, Leo, Virgo, the Pleiades.”

From the moment they met it was simply beautiful!! I just felt that excited tingly feeling when he wanted to hear her talk (and did for 2 hours) about the stars, because he began to yearn for her plus it just reminded me of the scene in Hercules when Phil talks about the other gods including Hercules and it shows the story in the stars which ties perfectly to me. You may have not thought of it that way lol but just how it came out in my head 💕

“Logan told himself that first night was a one-time thing, but he could taste the lie on his tongue. Because then came the next night. And the one after that. And before he realized it, he’d started looking for you when the sun sunk below the horizon, chasing that strange silence, that comforting lull in his brain that only came with your presence. “

Again another great nod to the song you were given! Also just with Logan in general it is so soft and he is slowly, very slowly chiseling down his walls to let her in that he so deserves!!

And the reader telling him “Alright” after he said all his dirty laundry and bad things he had done was the best. That’s the best kind of love when someone truly loves you even with your faults. It hit me in the feels because Logan needs that. Also in general we just all crave for someone to love so unconditional and you really showcased that in the reader (as well as Logan!), again done so beautifully!!!! ❤️❤️

You write some incredible words Lub OMMGGG I was literally tearing up! These were some that stood out to me and just made my heart MELT!!

“But with you, he didn't feel that burn, that warning that alarmed in his brain and urged him to run. Instead, you had lit of a different kind of match, a gentle flame that warmed and soothed instead of burned.

It was a flame he wanted to kindle, to nurture. A want that was wholly unfamiliar to him.”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! 😩 The way you described a flame to be so tender and not dangerous or to be careful with like we’re told just makes me want to scream into a pillow!!

“"Logan," you breathed, "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Yes," he answered, but he wasn't looking at the stars.”

UGHH lines like this make my heart want to explode because first of all can this please happen to me and second, he is just so in love, for the stars to come second just makes me swoon!

"Do you miss it? Your old world?" you murmured eventually, so quiet, he almost missed it.

"No."

"Why not?"

Logan could feel your gaze turn to him, eyes searching. There were a million different reasons he could give, but none of them would quite be the truth.

Finally, he said, voice low and rough, "Because there was no you."

I CANT!! 😭 immediately just take me I’m yours Logan after telling me any or all of this! Just so incredibly written!!

This fic is SO beautiful, tender, soft, hurt/comfort and I just want to give it a hug! Job well done girl!! 👏🏼❤️✨

At Least Out Loud

SYNOPSIS: Logan has never been one to express himself in words. But with you, it's the closest he's ever been.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 2.9k

WARNINGS: angst; mentions of violence; brief mentions of blood; gratuitous self loathing; non-explicit intimacy; implications of smut, but nothing graphic

A/N: This was written for @princessanglophile’s birthday challenge. I was given Worst Wolverine and the song I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) from the movie Hercules. And let’s be real—Logan not using his words is like 75% of his personality, so this song is very fitting for him. This story is written a bit differently that ones I’ve written in the past, but it’s how the story organically poured itself from my brain, so I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Thank you to @saradika for the use of her graphics. And as always, I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 

Logan’s acutely aware that this universe is not his own.

Not that he mourned the loss of his old world. He didn’t miss the vitriol and loathing that burned into his skin from the stares of those around him. Those stares that officially branded him as the monster he was always designed to be. Didn’t miss the constant reminders of his selfishness, his unwillingness to see what was right before his eyes—the family that had formed around him.

The family he let burn to the ground and turn to ash; the stain of that failure inky black and poisonous, curling its tendrils into the deepest parts of him. The stain that still haunted even his waking moments.

But that stain, those dark, whispered voices pressing against his skull quiet when he met you.

Logan didn’t intend for you to happen. Didn’t mean to spin himself into your orbit and get pulled into your gravity. He came seeking solitude, a brief respite from the apartment filled with one too many people. A moment away from the cacophony and chaos that came with living with Wade.

He met you beneath the stars, the brightness of them dimmed against the yellow-black of the light polluted sky. But you didn’t seem to mind, your eyes still tracking well known constellations as you reclined against the old plastic lounge chair.

You didn’t look at him when he approached. Didn’t startle or flinch or shift uncomfortably like most people did when they felt the weight of his presence within their space. You simply gestured towards the empty chair next to you and said, “Sucks, huh?”

The question and the easy offer of your company threw him off balance and he sat, more out of confusion than compliance. Logan wasn’t sure what you meant—life? The universe? Everything? But then you pointed upward and added, “The stars. They’re prettier with less noise. Less light. Can’t see much of ‘em here.”

And that was all it took.

He reclined back onto the old rickety recliner, lit a cigar and listened with rapt attention as you pointed out all the constellations you knew by heart, even if their stars were faint dots in the night sky. For almost two hours, until his cigar had all but turned to ash, Logan watched as you drew shapes in the sky, enthusiastically recalling the myths attached to your favorite ones—Cassiopeia, Leo, Virgo, the Pleiades. 

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he looked up to the sky for longer than a second, treated the night sky as anything but a dark canvas that often mirrored his mood. But now he was wondering if his universe held the same constellations in the exact same patterns and how you would react if you saw new ones. 

He wondered if you’d be impressed, which ones you would like. If your face would light up, your eyes crinkling with mirth as you gazed upon them. Logan wondered what your voice would sound like, awe-struck and reverent, at a nighttime canvas so foreign yet familiar at the same time.

It was then he realized the roaring of his thoughts—those desperate, aching screams; those painful pleas for mercy—had dulled to a mere whisper. Having lived with the haunting of his own mind for far too many years, the silence was almost deafening.

They didn’t truly fade—Logan knew better than to expect mercy for his sins—but they had lost their teeth, their want to gnash and snarl. Instead, the seemed almost soft, brief echoes instead of claws.

Logan told himself that first night was a one-time thing, but he could taste the lie on his tongue. Because then came the next night. And the one after that. And before he realized it, he’d started looking for you when the sun sunk below the horizon, chasing that strange silence, that comforting lull in his brain that only came with your presence. 

It’s effortless, he thought, how you’d woven yourself into his life. How you’d molded yourself into all his dark and hidden corners and taken up space in his mind. Like ivy creeping up bricked walls—quiet, steady. Unfurling and sinking roots, not caring about the cracked facade or chips in the mortar, but simply filling the space with something alive and beautiful.

Logan tried to give you an out, laid out all his dirty, blood-soaked laundry so you could see him for what he truly was—something to be feared—but you didn’t flinch. 

You didn’t recoil from the sharp, jagged edges of his truths or the violence melded into his very bones. Instead, you listened, quietly, intently. Like every horrid confession was just another star in the constellation of him that you were so determined to understand. And then, when Logan had nothing left in him but silence and burning shame, you had looked and him and simply said, “Alright.”

Nothing else.

No meaningless platitudes or blanket excuses for the blood, grief or carnage he’d caused. Just alright, like you’d catalogued all of him—the wounds, the rage, the history—judged him using Libra’s scales and decided he was still worthy of the space he took up.

That simple word undid him more than an apology or absolution ever could. 

Logan had been burned by love before, and worse, he was the one who lit the match and watched as everything around him turned to ash. The scars of that self-immolation were thick and calloused around his heart. But with you, he didn’t feel that burn, that warning that alarmed in his brain and urged him to run. Instead, you had lit of a different kind of match, a gentle flame that warmed and soothed instead of burned.

It was a flame he wanted to kindle, to nurture. A want that was wholly unfamiliar to him. 

Nerves rolled in his gut as he drove down the dark gravel road and you must have sensed his unease, because without a word, you reached across the center console and laced your fingers with his. Quietly, you stroked your thumb against his palm, keeping your eyes closed like he had requested. 

While the gesture soothed, Logan could still hear his pulse in his ears and feel the weight of his breath in his lungs, shallow and unsure. For a moment, he contemplated turning around, calling the whole night off. But he didn’t. Because despite everything, the instinct in him to run and hide back into his shadows, Logan wanted to try.

Not for himself, but for you. Somehow, regardless of his attempts to convince you otherwise, you still wanted to be with him. 

After a few more minutes, Logan pulled the truck off the road and onto an open field before shutting off the ignition. He helped you out of the truck, urging you to keep your eyes closed, and then, just a few paces from the truck, he said, “Okay, you can look.”

You opened your eyes and let out a soft gasp. Above you, the sky stretched wide and endless, the inky violet canvas swathed with stars scattered in clusters so thick it was hard to tell where one star started and another began. The Milky Way glimmered faintly overhead, a band of light trailing across the heavens. 

“Logan,” you breathed, “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

“Yes,” he answered, but he wasn’t looking at the stars. 

While you stared up at the sky, Logan set up the truck bed full of blankets and pillows, carefully arranging them into a makeshift nest he knew he was spending longer than necessary to prepare. He dragged your eyes from the sky just long enough to help you climb into the truck bed before joining you. The late-spring air was cool and crisp, and as Logan laid down, you immediately settled down next to him, tucking yourself along his side. Pressed alongside him like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you belonged there.

If you noticed his slight discomfort, you stayed silent, instead lacing your fingers with his as you talked about the Milky Way. Logan listened, paying more attention to the way your voice softened as you spoke than about the myth behind the name, or the number of known stars and planets contained within. After a while, you fell silent, content to just watch as the stars shimmered overhead.

“Do you miss it? Your old world?” you murmured eventually, so quiet, he almost missed it.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Logan could feel your gaze turn to him, eyes searching. There were a million different reasons he could give, but none of them would quite be the truth.

Finally, he said, voice low and rough, “Because there was no you.”

You shifted until you were half-turned towards him, your hand still wrapped in his. Slowly, you leaned up and cupped his jaw with a tenderness so fierce it made his chest ache. Logan couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered close, just briefly, and without thinking, he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. 

With your gaze darting between his eyes and mouth, you leaned forward until you were close enough that Logan could feel the damp warmth of your breath against his skin. You paused, just long enough, and then, with the stars shining in your eyes, your lips brushed his, pressing the softest, barely there whisper of a kiss to his lips. An involuntary groan tumbled from his throat and Logan deepened the kiss without thinking, his hand threading into your hair, holding you to him with a reverence he didn’t know his calloused hands were capable of. A soft noise squeaked from your mouth and you clutched at him in turn, anchoring yourself to him as much as he was anchoring to you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. The kiss was slow and aching and full of everything Logan couldn’t say, couldn’t find in himself to voice into words. But, under the watchful gaze of the universe, that night felt like a promise.

As sure as the night fading into day, you continued to weave yourself into the fabric of his life. Morning coffee as you both got ready for work. Your laughter over dinner with Wade, Vanessa and Al and the comforting touch of your hand on his knee under the table. The way your body fit against his at night, your limbs tangled without fear, without hesitation.

Desire built slowly between you, not rushed or frenzied, but something heavier, deeper, truer. That night under the stars all those weeks ago had only been the catalyst, igniting a spark that flamed through every cell in Logan’s body, setting him aflame from the inside. And once lit, there was no smothering it.

You didn’t push him. You never did. You let him come to you on his own time, in his own broken way, always there with an open embrace and a tenderness he didn’t feel he deserved. He hadn’t had anything like this. Hadn’t let himself want anything like this.

Most nights, Logan would wake up and just stare at you, memorizing the way you looked bathed in silver moonlight. He’d lie there, feeling your fingers curled loosely against his ribs, your body soft and trusting against his side and a lump would form in his throat.

This wasn’t meant for a man like him. A man with the blood of innocents on his hands. That animal was still in him, violence and rot just beneath the surface, and his skin crawled with the need to pull away. To spare you from the disaster that loving him would bring.

But every time he pushed, you pulled, erasing that distance with a glance, a touch, a smile he didn’t know how to live without anymore.

And it wasn’t just about sex—though God, when he had you, it ruined him every time. You wrecked him slowly. Thoroughly. The way you would look at him after he came undone inside you—raw and shaken, like a man who had been starving for years—and cradle him and whisper his name like it meant something holy.

You made him feel things he didn’t have the words for anymore. Things that made him ache in places he thought had long turned to stone.

Logan’s had many firsts in his life, the majority of them mired in conflict and suffering. The first time drew blood. The first time he killed. The first time he realized just how sharp his bones could be, how heavy a soul could be burdened with regret. 

But with you, the firsts felt like the only ones that have ever mattered.

The first time someone touched him without flinching and instead sought his touch for comfort. The first time someone laughed at something he said and the first time he laughed in return—not a sharp, bitter sound, but one that warmed his chest instead of hollowing it out. The first time he fell asleep with another heartbeat close to him and didn’t wake up in a panic, sweaty and breathless with his claws unsheathed, ready to stave off the demons that continued to haunt him. 

For the first time in years he looked at himself in the mirror and didn’t want to flay the flesh off his bones just to see if anything clean still lived underneath. And that terrified him more than anything.

Because, for the first time in a long time, he had something to lose. 

When those three words fell out of your mouth, whispered soft and warm against the hollow of his throat, Logan didn’t run. 

He didn’t growl or scoff or flinch like he would have before—before you, before this, before he knew what it meant to want something that wasn’t just about survival. Instead, he laid there, breath held as to not shatter the moment, and he looked down at you like he was trying to etch you into memory.

I love you.

Simple. Honest.

Absolutely terrifying.

And then Logan’s jaw clenched, muscles tight and coiled in that all too familiar instinct to brace for the worst, to flee. Because he knew nothing good came without a price and you weren’t something he was willing to lose. But then, your hand slipped into his, fingers threading through the calloused spaces like they belonged there. Pulling his hand to your chest, you flattened his fingers against your heartbeat—sure and steady beneath his palm— and something inside of him broke in the quietest, most beautiful way.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, voice thick. Not because he didn't want it—because God did he want it. “Do you—d’you know what that means? For someone like me?”

You pulled him closer, nose brushing along the edge of his jaw before pressing a feather brush of a kiss there. “I do.” Your voice, just like you, was steadfast. “I know exactly what it means.”

And it wrecked him. 

Not the kiss, not the words, not the gentle way you held him in a way no other soul had. But the way you said them—honest and raw, as if loving him was the simplest thing in the universe. 

Logan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard and there were so many things he could have said. That you deserved better. That loving him would cost you. That no matter how much redemption you gave him, he’d always have blood on his hands and ghosts haunting him.

Instead, he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, grounding himself in the press of your skin, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. His eyes closed and for the briefest moment, just a heartbeat, Logan allowed himself to exist in the stillness. 

No noise. No guilt. Just you. 

When he finally spoke, it was barely louder than a breath. “You make me wanna try.”

Your fingers curled around his hand, squeezing gently. Encouraging. Anchoring. Steadying him in that familiar way you always had.

“I don’t know if I’m built for this. For—” he faltered, jaw clenching, like he was afraid the word would burn on the way out. “—love.”

You tilted your head just enough to brush the tip of your nose against his. “You are, Logan. You are.”

One hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb tracing along the line of your cheekbone like you were made of something holy. In the dark, his eyes searched yours, looking for any last shred of doubt. Doubt he knew he wouldn’t find because somehow, despite everything, you still believed in him.

“You don’t have to rush, Logan,” you reassure him. “I know.”

Logan’s eyes closed, lids heavy with all the words he couldn’t say. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel them thrumming through his veins. Because he did. God help him, he did. 

He dipped his head and kissed you, soft and slow, with all the reverence a violent and marred man like him could muster. A low whimper escaped your lips and Logan simply pulled you closer, mouth moving like he was memorizing the shape of you with his tongue.

He couldn’t say he loved you. At least not out loud. Not yet. Those words were still too sharp in his throat, still caught in the tangle of old scars and deeply seated fears.

Logan didn’t know how to speak love. But with you, he thought, he was finally starting to live it.

[captain-huggy-bear]

McBain and pregnant wife putting together ikea nursery furniture? She has it down and it is just not working for him.

Tried my hand at Jack, let me know what we think...I did take the idea and change it slightly cause I feel like Jack is a 'don't lift a finger' type of guy when you're pregnant. @firechilde I'm not saying get used to it, but here's something, a crumb, a scrap lol

Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

"Fuck!" Jack's shout is loud, loud enough that you hear it from the bottom of the stairs. You're at the bottom staring up at them, wondering how badly you need to intervene based on how frustrated he sounds.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stay down there!" He's surrounded by bits of wood, screws, random bolts and so many instructions in Swedish that he's pretty certain don't make sense even in the English version. It's fucking ridiculous, he should be able to put together furniture for the nursery without help. He's a husband, a soon to be dad, dads knew how to fix stuff and build stuff. Fuck, he should be able to do this.

You wait at the bottom of the stairs for another few moments, quiet while you listen to him swearing, almost screaming at the wood in front of him. It's...unusual for Jack. He's not a shouter or big yeller, usually pretty quiet despite his size, but it's easy to tell that the Ikea furniture is besting him and causing him to lose his marbles a little bit.

"Jack, are you sure?"

"I'm fine! I can do this!" He absolutely refuses to be bested by a stupid fucking piece of furniture. He can build a crib, it can't be that hard, people do it all the time. Except the stupid pieces aren't fitting together right and why does he have this extra piece of wood? "Fucking stupid, fucking Ikea fucking furniture....fucking need a rocket science degree or some shit to do this..."

"Are you sure?" You try one last time, calling up the stairs, hand resting on your belly. Baby is kicking like they can tell that Jack's having a meltdown on their behalf and it's funny...oh, God, it shouldn't be, you feel bad but also it's so funny. Jack who is so determined to do this by himself, who refused your help, is acting like he's at war with a crib right now.

"Baby, if you ask me if I'm okay one more time I'm going lose it." You don't tell him he's already lost it because you're not so sure your sense of humour would go over well right now.

"How about I go get takeout and call the guys?"

"Take out, yes, the guys? No. I don't need their help! I can do this." He's determined to do it on his own, certain he doesn't need a bunch of idiots making it even more chaotic in here.

"Sure thing, honey..." You appease him, already on your phone messaging Clayton, Michael, Dylan, Logan and for the adult supervision Alex. You grab your keys on the way out of the house knowing that by the time you get back there will either be a bigger mess or a built nursery.

Kerfoot is the first to message back, a picture of him and his tool box already at his car and you know without a doubt that even if the rest of the buffoons can't figure it out, he'll be able to and might stop Jack killing someone in the process.

To say Jack isn't impressed would be an understatement. There's a sense of betrayal when he opens the front door to the bumbling band of baboons he calls team mates, Kerf is leading the way, tool box in hand and he has no choice but to let them in.

By the time you get back with enough pizza to feed all of you, the nursery is actually built...mostly Kerf and Jack, Clayton tried his best but he's not exactly a DIY guy and Michael, Dylan and Logan were more of a nuisance than a help.

Still when you walk into the nursery all the furniture is put together and Jack's not swearing about wood and screws anymore.

"Pizza is downstairs, boys"

"Thanks, Mrs McBain!" Logan calls you as if you're 20 years his senior, it makes you wince, but you allow it as they all scramble out and after food. Jack remaining there, stood in the middle of the nursery with his arms crossed.

"You betrayed me."

"Baby..." You close the distance between you, belly bumping into his own as you reach up to cup his cheeks. His beard is scratchy on your palms but you don't pull away. God, you love that beard on him. "You needed help."

"I'm supposed to be able to do this...what sort of dad am I going to be if I can't even build some fucking Ikea furniture?" It's easy in that moment to see why it bothers him. Somewhere along the way Jack has decided that being a dad meant being amazing at DIY, at putting things together and the practical stuff...that he has to be perfect at it or he won't be a good father and it's so silly, so ridiculous because that's not what makes a dad a dad.

"You're going to be a great dad, you know why?" He leans into your palms a little further, his own hands come to rest on your belly, feeling the movement and kicks beneath his palms like baby is listening too.

"Because you care enough that you didn't want any help and wanted to build this all from scratch on your own even if it took you ten times longer. You're going to be amazing, okay? You've got time to practice the Ikea furniture skills."

"You sure?"

"Mm, I'll buy some book cases or something for you to mess up!" You joke, grinning at him cheekily until Jack swats lightly at your arse. Gentle because he's been so careful with you the entire pregnancy but still, playful, that foul mood from earlier lifting.

"Don't test me, baby."

"Never." Except you totally would test him just to get that look again. The one where Jack looks at you from underneath his lashes, smirk tilting up the corner of his mouth like he might just devour you even with his team mates just downstairs eating a boatload of pizza.

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 6

paige x azzi

a/n: Okay this is my attempt at more explicit sexual content. If y'all hate it I'm never trying again lmao. So please let me know bc I do love to be validated lol words of affirmation is my love language... Okay enojy I hope.

word count: 5.1k

"Recovery Looks Good on You"

The red-eye from Edinburgh had bled into a long connection through Chicago, and by the time Paige turned onto her quiet street the sunrise was only just blushing against the tips of palm leaves. She’d left Scotland with a gold captain’s pin in her carry-on, a champions’ flag folded in her luggage, and one persistent thought in her chest:

Get home.

She rolled to a stop in her driveway, engine ticking in the cool dawn, lids heavy from eighteen hours of travel. Then she saw it—someone propped against her front-door frame, hoodie up, one ankle crossed over the other like she’d been born to wait there.

Azzi.

A bouquet of wild daisies and sunflowers rested in her arms; the grin resting on her face was brighter than any jet-lagged delirium Paige could muster.

Paige’s jaw dropped, exhaustion evaporating in a heartbeat. She fumbled the car into park, all but tripped out of the driver’s seat, and met Azzi halfway up the walk.

“You’re here?” Paige blinked, voice rough with disbelief. “It’s barely sunrise…”

Azzi grinned, handing her the flowers. “Couldn’t wait. Figured if you can cross an ocean to win a trophy, I can set a few alarms to wake up early to be the first thing you see when you get home.”

Paige laughed—quiet, disbelieving—then pulled her in, arms wrapping around Azzi’s waist, bouquet crushed gently between them. It smelled like fresh soil and something bright and hopeful.

“I missed you,” Paige whispered into the curve of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi’s reply was a smile she could feel more than see. “Long enough flight to prove it.”

Paige leaned back just enough to search her eyes. “How long have you been standing out here?”

“Since dark-o’clock,” Azzi said, shrugging again. “Couldn’t risk missing the driveway victory lap.”

Paige’s chest tightened with a warmth that beat back every mile she’d crossed. “Come inside. I have championship flags, bad airplane snacks, and zero dignity left after thirty straight hours awake.”

Azzi offered her arm, mock-gallant. “Lead on, Captain America.”

Together they stepped over the threshold—suitcase wheels clacking, flowers bobbing, two heartbeats finally syncing in the same time zone again. Outside, the sun climbed higher, but inside Paige’s house it already felt like daybreak.

And for the first time since Scotland, Paige’s world felt perfectly, impossibly, home.

Inside, the house was quiet, still cloaked in that early morning hush where everything felt softer—shadows stretched long and the air held a kind of peace you could almost touch.

Paige dropped her keys onto the console table with a sigh, the weight of travel and competition settling back onto her shoulders now that the adrenaline had worn off. She kicked off her sneakers by the door, dragging her suitcase behind her with one hand and Azzi’s hand in the other.

“Coffee?” Paige offered, voice thick with fatigue but still hopeful. “Or… pancakes? Or maybe we start a puzzle and talk about the meaning of life?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, tugging her back gently. “You can barely keep your eyes open. The only thing you’re doing right now is getting in bed.”

Paige groaned dramatically. “But you’re here… and I just got home… what if I blink and this is all a dream?”

Azzi grinned. “Then lucky for you, I don’t mind starring in your dreams and being here when you wake up.”

Paige pouted, a sleepy sparkle still in her eyes. “I’ll only go to bed if you come with me.”

Azzi crossed her arms, pretending to think hard. “Hmm. Let me get this straight—you want to steal me from my luxury accommodations down the hall?”

Paige nodded, grinning.

Azzi sighed with mock regret. “Man… I’m really gonna miss the guest bedroom. That memory foam? Elite. The decorative throw pillows? Untouchable. But if you insist on me cuddling you in your bed instead…” She shrugged. “I guess I can make that sacrifice.”

Paige laughed, the sound soft and sleepy as she tugged her toward the hallway. “Truly selfless of you.”

“I do what I can.”

Moments later, they were tangled up under the covers—Paige finally letting her body relax into the mattress she hadn’t seen in weeks, her cheek pressed to Azzi’s collarbone, legs intertwined like it was second nature.

Azzi brushed a thumb lazily over Paige’s arm, whispering into her hair, “You’re home now.”

And Paige, already halfway to sleep, mumbled, “Yeah… finally feels like it.”

—-

It was just past noon when the sunlight finally snuck in strong enough to nudge Paige awake. She stirred with a slow stretch, letting out a satisfied sigh as she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Her body ached in that deliciously familiar way after travel, but her bed had never felt better—especially with Azzi curled up beside her, still here.

Still hers, in a way she was slowly starting to believe might actually be real.

Azzi was propped against the headboard, hair in a messy bun, one leg tucked under the other. She had Paige’s oversized hoodie on again—half-swallowed by it—and her thumbs were moving across her phone, scrolling through TikTok with the sound turned off.

Paige turned her head with a sleepy smile, voice raspy. “You’ve been watching TikToks while I slept like a log?”

Azzi didn’t even look down, just giggled to herself and tilted the screen slightly away. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Paige narrowed her eyes playfully. “Oh no. You don’t get to look that smug and not tell me what you’re watching.”

Azzi finally glanced down at her, smirking. “Just something about how gay people fall in love in 3–5 business days and start leaving toothbrushes and hoodies behind like it’s a federal mandate.”

Paige laughed, dropping her head back against the pillow. “Okay, yeah… I walked into that one.”

“Actually, I walked into your house,” Azzi teased, setting her phone down on the nightstand. “You’re the one who asked me to cuddle you.”

“And now I’m dangerously attached,” Paige replied without missing a beat.

Azzi grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Guess I’ll have to stay a little longer then.”

“Guess you will,” Paige whispered, eyes already slipping shut again.

Azzi rolled her eyes fondly. “You just woke up.”

“Power nap,” Paige murmured. “With you here, I sleep like a rockstar.”

Azzi settled back in beside her, smiling as she pulled the blanket up over both of them again. “Fine. But I’m picking lunch when you finally rise from the dead.”

“Deal,” Paige mumbled, already halfway gone.

Azzi reached for her phone again, scrolling quietly with one hand, the other tangled gently with Paige’s.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt like they were missing a thing.

Paige finally rolled herself out of bed, hair a tousled mess, still half-draped in sleep but fueled by the promise of food. Azzi followed behind, stretching as she padded barefoot down the hall in Paige’s hoodie, the sleeves still a little too long and adorable because of it.

They made their way into the kitchen, the morning light now fully transformed into the golden glow of early afternoon. Paige opened the fridge, squinting into its cold, mostly empty interior.

A long pause.

Then a soft, unimpressed hum from her lips.

Azzi leaned against the counter, watching with growing amusement as Paige grabbed a half-empty carton of milk, gave it a gentle sniff, and immediately recoiled with a grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Azzi said, crossing her arms. “That’s the face of someone who definitely hasn’t been home in weeks.”

Paige chuckled, holding the milk carton at arm’s length like it had personally offended her. “You think it’s bad now, you should’ve seen what was in my suitcase.”

Azzi walked over and peered into the pantry, pulling out a dusty box of cereal. She turned it over in her hands and raised an eyebrow. “Unless your idea of lunch is stale cereal and expired milk… I vote we go out.”

Paige sighed dramatically. “But I just got out of bed…”

Azzi gave her a look. “And you barely made it to the kitchen. You’ve burned, like, eight calories.”

“Unbelievable,” Paige muttered, tossing the milk in the trash. “I fly halfway across the world and now I’m being bullied into brunch.”

Azzi smirked, already heading for her shoes. “Not brunch. Victory lunch. On me.”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “You’re buying?”

Azzi looked over her shoulder, giving a playful shrug. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for champions.”

Paige grinned, grabbing her keys. “In that case, I’m driving. I need to reclaim at least some dominance here.”

Azzi laughed. “Sure, sure. Alpha move, Captain.”

As they walked out the door together, the sun warm on their skin, it felt like the start of a new kind of rhythm—one filled with lazy mornings, empty fridges, and someone always willing to show up with a solution (and a wallet).

The lunch spot Azzi picked was a cozy, tucked-away deli in the heart of LA—walls lined with vintage sports memorabilia, handwritten menu boards, and the faint smell of toasted sourdough lingering in the air. It was the kind of place only locals knew, no frills, just perfectly made sandwiches and an outdoor patio shaded by string lights and lemon trees.

“I come here all the time during the season,” Azzi said as they grabbed a corner table outside. “Best turkey pesto on the West Coast. Don’t fight me on it.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “Bold claim. We’ll see.”

Azzi smirked, unwrapping her sandwich like she was unveiling a national treasure. “Prepare to be humbled.”

Halfway through lunch, with their laughter spilling between bites and Paige begrudgingly admitting Azzi might be right about the sandwich, a trio of young women nervously approached the table, phones in hand and eyes wide.

“Sorry,” one of them said, almost breathless. “We don’t want to interrupt, but… are you Azzi?”

Azzi wiped her hands quickly on a napkin, smiling warmly. “That’s me.”

“And you’re Paige, right?” another asked, almost giddy. “We saw the photo you posted during the game. You guys are so cute.”

Paige froze mid-bite. Her shoulders stiffened just slightly—not in annoyance, but in that quiet, guarded way that only someone who’d spent years keeping her world private would understand.

Azzi glanced at her gently, reading the shift immediately.

Then she turned back to the fans, still smiling. “We really appreciate you coming over. Would you mind if we just finished up lunch real quick, and then we could take a quick picture before we go?”

The fans eagerly nodded and backed away to give them space.

Paige leaned in slightly, voice low. “You sure?”

Azzi reached under the table and gave her knee a soft squeeze. “It’s okay. They were respectful. Plus…” She winked. “We look good today.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, her posture easing again. “You handle that way better than I do.”

Azzi took another bite of her sandwich. “It’s all about balance. You keep us grounded, I keep us charming.”

Paige smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

They finished lunch at their own pace. And when they stood to leave, the trio of fans lit up again. Paige smiled softly this time, letting Azzi take the lead, and even slipped an arm loosely around her waist for the photo.

Afterward, back in the car, Paige shook her head with a quiet grin. “Okay… you were right about the sandwich.”

Azzi beamed. “Told you. And hey—first sandwich spot, first public fan pic… we’re racking up milestones.”

Paige glanced at her, heart warm. “If I have to rack up firsts with anyone… I’m glad it’s with you.”

Azzi turned up the radio, her smile stretching wide. “Good. Because I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”

Back in the car, windows down and the warm LA breeze tousling both of their hair, Paige felt herself sinking deeper into something she didn’t quite have words for yet—something light, but real. Azzi leaned back in the passenger seat, one sneaker kicked up on the dashboard, sunglasses perched on her nose like she was straight out of a music video.

Paige glanced over, amused. “You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

Azzi smirked. “Because I’m about to hit you with another elite move.”

“Oh yeah?”

She turned toward her with mock seriousness. “There is nothing—and I mean nothing—better than an ice cream cone after a delicious sandwich on a warm, sunny day in LA.”

Paige chuckled. “That’s your pitch?”

Azzi placed a hand dramatically over her heart. “It’s not a pitch. It’s a universal truth.”

Paige pretended to consider it, then reached for the gear shift. “Alright then, lead the way, sunshine.”

They pulled up to a little retro ice cream shop tucked between a flower stand and an old record store. The sign was hand-painted in faded pastels, and the smell of freshly baked waffle cones hit them before they even made it to the front door.

Azzi practically skipped ahead. “You’re getting the mint chocolate chip. Trust me.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You picking all my meals now?”

“Just the ones that’ll make you fall in love with LA or someone in LA at least a little more,” Azzi tossed over her shoulder.

Paige didn’t answer, but the smile she fought off said plenty.

They left the shop with cones in hand, the heat already making the edges drip slightly as they wandered down the sidewalk side by side. Paige took one bite of hers and closed her eyes.

“Okay… that’s annoyingly good,” she admitted.

Azzi grinned. “Told you. I’m batting a thousand today.”

Paige licked a drip from her wrist and looked at Azzi. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Azzi just nudged her playfully with her shoulder. “Too late.”

They walked like that—easy, slow, laughing about nothing in particular. Every so often their hands brushed, and neither pulled away.

Paige glanced over, watching Azzi as she tried to keep her cone from dripping on her hoodie. It hit her then—how this day, as simple as it was, had somehow turned into one of her favorites.

Ice cream. Sunshine. Sandwiches.

And Azzi.

She could get used to this kind of magic.

—-

Azzi buckled her seatbelt and turned slightly in her seat, tapping Paige’s hand. “Hey, before we head back to your place… can we stop by mine real quick?”

Paige glanced over, already sliding the car into gear. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, just figured I’d grab a few things. No sense in going back and forth if I’m staying over. I’ll just head to practice from your place in the morning.”

Something about the casualness of it—the unspoken assumption that of course they’d be spending the night together—settled in Paige’s chest like the softest kind of warmth.

Azzi’s house wasn’t far, tucked into a quiet neighborhood lined with palm trees and bougainvillea climbing fences like they had secrets to tell. When they pulled up, Paige followed her inside, greeted by a burst of cool air and the comforting hum of home.

Azzi dropped her keys in a ceramic dish near the door and immediately began to ramble as they walked in.

“Okay, just a heads up—this is nothing compared to your Olympic village of a backyard,” she said, waving her hands with a grin. “But it’s mine and I love it, even if it’s basically a glorified shoebox with hardwood floors.”

Paige paused just inside the entryway, her eyes already scanning the space. “Azzi…” she said softly, “it’s perfect.”

The walls were warm-toned and cozy, with books stacked on side tables and throw blankets in every corner. But what struck Paige the most were the photos—dozens of them. Friends. Family. Old teammates. Moments frozen in time, smiling faces everywhere.

It felt lived-in, loved. Just like Azzi.

Paige walked slowly toward the kitchen. “Mind if I grab some water?”

“Help yourself,” Azzi called from down the hall. “Fridge is stocked—mostly with athlete stuff, but there should be something drinkable in there somewhere.”

Paige chuckled and opened the fridge, reaching for a bottle—when something caught her eye.

A photo, printed on glossy paper, held up by a tiny red heart-shaped magnet. It was them.

Walking side by side at the golf tournament. Paige remembered that exact moment—Azzi had said something absurd, and they’d both cracked up laughing. The kind of laugh that makes your shoulders shake. It was candid, effortless… them.

Paige reached out and gently touched the edge of the photo with her fingertips, her throat tightening unexpectedly.

Of all the things on the fridge—protein shake reminders, a team schedule, grocery list scribbled on a Post-it—it was this photo, right there in the center, like it belonged. Like she belonged.

A small, quiet ache bloomed in her chest. Not painful—just real.

She was falling. And not in the fun, flirty way they’d been dancing around for weeks.

In the real way.

The “I’m going to remember this moment forever” kind of way.

And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud yet…

But soon, she would.

Soon, Azzi would know just how far Paige was falling for her.

—-

The end credits of the movie rolled across the screen, but neither of them moved to turn it off. The room was dim except for the soft flicker of the TV and the ambient glow from a nearby lamp. Paige and Azzi were melted into the couch, tangled together in a way that felt natural—Paige’s head resting against Azzi’s shoulder, Azzi’s hand lazily tracing idle shapes along Paige’s forearm.

Neither of them could have recapped the plot of the movie if their lives depended on it. Between the stolen glances, teasing smirks, and slow movements that let their fingertips linger just a little longer than necessary, the film had quickly faded into the background.

Paige shifted slightly, stretching one leg out and rotating her shoulder with a small wince.

Azzi’s hand stopped moving. “Hey,” she said gently, leaning back to look at her. “You good?”

Paige smiled through the ache, her voice quiet but laced with humor. “I think all that travel finally caught up to me. I’m feeling every hole I played in Scotland.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed in concern, already adjusting like she was ready to leap into action. “Can I do anything? Ice pack? Massage? I can attempt one of those TikTok stretches you always say don’t work.”

Paige turned to look at her, a sly smirk playing on her lips. “You could join me in the hot tub. That’s my favorite way to relax my muscles.”

Azzi paused, her face unreadable for a beat—then the flush crept up from her chest to her cheeks in slow motion.

“I mean…” she said, trying and failing to keep it casual. “For recovery purposes, obviously.”

Paige chuckled, sitting up with a soft groan and brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Totally. This is a purely therapeutic suggestion.”

Azzi gave her a playful side-eye. “You know you’re impossible to say no to when you talk like that, right?”

Paige shrugged, standing up and stretching again. “So I’ve heard.”

Azzi leaned back with a resigned grin, already slipping her phone from her pocket. “Alright, Captain. I’ll grab us towels. Meet you outside in five?”

Paige looked over her shoulder with a wink. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Azzi watched her disappear down the hall, then exhaled a quiet laugh to herself. She was definitely in trouble.

Steam curled up from the surface of the hot tub as the night air cooled around it, stars just beginning to dot the darkening sky. Paige leaned back against the edge, arms stretched along the rim, eyes closed, trying to focus on the warmth soaking into her sore muscles—but it was no use. Her mind was elsewhere. Or, more accurately, on someone.

She heard the soft slide of the glass door and peeked one eye open just in time to see Azzi stepping out onto the patio.

And just like that, Paige was no longer thinking about muscle recovery.

Azzi wore a simple pink two-piece that somehow managed to be both sporty and sinful, her hair twisted up into a loose bun. The patio lights cast a golden hue across her skin as she walked, completely at ease—and Paige forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Azzi glanced up and caught the look on Paige’s face, smirking. “You’re staring.”

“I’m appreciating,” Paige corrected, voice already lower, thicker.

Azzi raised an eyebrow as she carefully stepped into the hot tub, letting out a content sigh as the heat hit her skin. “Mmhmm. This is supposed to be about recovery, right?”

Paige didn’t answer with words. The second Azzi was fully in, Paige closed the short distance between them like gravity had taken over. Her arms wrapped around Azzi’s waist, pulling her flush against her under the bubbling water. Azzi let out a surprised laugh, hands automatically finding Paige’s shoulders.

Paige rested her forehead gently against Azzi’s, lips brushing close but not yet kissing. “I mean, I am trying to relax…”

Azzi grinned. “Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“I had some ideas,” Paige murmured, her voice low and playful. “Thought you might be able to help me release some of this tension I’ve been carrying.”

Azzi felt the shift immediately. The glint in Paige’s eye, the way her hands had subtly moved lower, the softness in her voice giving way to something heavier.

“Oh?” Azzi asked, leaning in just slightly, amused and intrigued. “You mean, like—deep breathing exercises? Shoulder rubs?”

Paige’s lips brushed along her jaw. “Something like that.”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh and tilted her head, fingers lightly tracing up the back of Paige’s neck. “You’re dangerous when you’re like this.”

Paige smirked, finally pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “So are you. That’s why we’re a problem.”

“A hot one,” Azzi said, pulling her closer with one hand under the water.

The bubbles roared around them, but all Paige could hear was the pounding of her own heart. The air was thick with warmth and teasing tension—and they had nowhere to be but here.

Their laughter melted into silence, save for the sound of bubbling water and breath catching between them.

Azzi’s fingers skimmed under the edge of Paige’s swimsuit top, not rushing, just tracing. Testing. Teasing. Paige’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, overwhelmed by how effortlessly Azzi could flip the switch from soft and teasing to sultry and magnetic.

“You always this smooth in the hot tub?” Azzi asked, biting back a grin as she let her fingers wander just a little higher.

Paige opened her eyes and met Azzi’s with a sly smile. “Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”

Azzi leaned in until their noses brushed. “And how am I doing?”

Paige answered by closing the distance with a kiss—slow, but purposeful. Azzi kissed her back instantly, gripping her waist beneath the water, drawing her closer. The world around them blurred, the heat of the water now indistinguishable from the heat rising between them.

When they broke apart for a breath, Paige was already smiling. “You’re doing okay,” she whispered.

Azzi scoffed, mock offended. “Okay?”

Paige nipped at her bottom lip. “Maybe a little better than okay.”

That was all the encouragement Azzi needed. She shifted, pressing Paige gently against the side of the tub as their lips met again—this time deeper, hungrier, as if they’d both been holding back and finally gave in to the pull.

Hands explored under the cover of steam and water, slow but full of intent. Paige’s fingers threaded into Azzi’s damp hair, tugging just enough to earn a quiet groan. Azzi’s mouth moved to Paige’s neck, kissing the line of her jaw before murmuring, “Still thinking this is just recovery?”

Paige gasped, laughter caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm,” Azzi said against her skin, “but you’re still kissing me.”

“Shut up,” Paige replied, pulling her back in.

They kissed like the sun had stopped setting, like time had paused just to let them have this moment—half floating, half tangled, entirely consumed.

And even through the heat and tension, the teasing never fully disappeared.

It just lived between the smiles they stole between kisses, in the way Azzi whispered, “You’re so dramatic,” after Paige let out a sigh, and how Paige replied, “You love it,” before tugging her closer again.

Because they did love it. All of it. The fire, the softness, the ridiculous way they couldn’t stop smiling—even while trying to devour each other.

And the best part?

The night wasn’t over yet.

The patio door slid open with a soft hush, letting in a breeze of warm night air as they stepped inside, wet footprints marking their path across the tile. Paige’s hand was still wrapped in Azzi’s, her touch possessive yet gentle—like she had no plans of letting go any time soon.

Azzi reached for a towel draped over the kitchen chair, but before she could even unfold it, Paige tugged her hand.

“Leave it,” she said, voice low, eyes glinting under the overhead light.

Azzi arched a brow. “You don’t want to dry off?”

Paige’s smirk returned, slower this time. “I want you to join me in the shower.”

Azzi blinked, then tilted her head, playing coy. “Oh, do you now?”

Paige took a step closer, fingertips trailing down Azzi’s arm. “Unless suddenly you’re shy, Ms. Full-Court Press.”

Azzi scoffed, but her grin betrayed her. “I’m never shy. Just selective.”

Paige leaned in, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear. “Then select me.”

That was all it took.

They disappeared into the bathroom, steam already curling around them as the rainfall shower head poured steady heat into the air. Paige stepped in first, sighing as the water hit her skin, head tilted back, hair slicked to her neck. Azzi followed with slower steps—eyes locked on Paige like she was starving.

The second the water soaked her curls, Azzi was on her—pressing their bodies together, hands already roaming. Their lips crashed with the kind of hunger that felt like it had been simmering all day, the kiss wet and deep, their tongues tangling as steam fogged the glass and blurred the outside world.

Paige’s back hit the tile with a soft thud, Azzi’s thigh sliding between hers as their bodies locked together. Fingers slipped and slid over slick skin—cupping breasts, gripping hips, kneading soft flesh. It wasn’t rushed, but it was needy.

“You feel so fucking good,” Azzi breathed against her neck, licking a slow stripe up to her ear before gently sucking on the lobe. “I could stay here all night.”

Paige moaned, rolling her hips against Azzi’s thigh. “Do it. Stay. Touch me.”

Azzi’s hand slid between them, fingers slipping between Paige’s folds—wet from more than just the water. Paige gasped, her head thudding softly back against the tile.

“Oh god… Az—yes—right there—”

Azzi circled her clit with her thumb, fingers pressing deeper, curling just enough to make Paige’s thighs tremble. The sound of their breathing echoed off the tile—sharp, hot, tangled with wet skin and want.

Paige tugged Azzi’s face back to hers, kissed her hard and open-mouthed, moaning into it as Azzi fucked her with steady, sure strokes. Every thrust was deliberate. Every grind of Azzi’s hips against her thigh screamed I need you too.

“You gonna come for me?” Azzi asked, lips brushing her cheek, her voice pure heat and challenge.

Paige nodded desperately. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop—”

Azzi didn’t. She pinned Paige with her body and drove her fingers deeper until Paige broke—loud and gasping, shaking against the tile, clutching Azzi’s back like she’d fall through the floor if she let go.

They stayed tangled for a moment under the cascade, Paige panting, Azzi watching her with something like awe. Then Azzi smirked.

“Still feeling recovered?”

Paige laughed breathlessly. “I think you broke me.”

“Good,” Azzi said, kissing her lazily. “Because I’m not done taking care of you yet.”

They eventually left the bathroom, wrapped in towels and fresh afterglow, but the air between them hadn’t cooled—it crackled. Smoldered. Paige collapsed onto the bed, towel slipping down her back as she groaned softly.

“Okay,” she said with a crooked grin, “I’ll admit it… I’m sore again.”

Azzi’s eyes glinted as she stepped between Paige’s knees, towel cinched tight, water still clinging to her skin. “Hmm. Sounds like you need some post-shower treatment.”

Paige looked up at her through her lashes. “You offering?”

“I’m insisting,” Azzi said, pushing Paige gently onto her stomach and climbing on top, straddling her hips with a wicked gleam in her eye.

She started slow—fingertips and palms kneading into Paige’s shoulders, trailing down to her lower back. Paige melted under her touch, groaning into the pillow.

But Azzi wasn’t subtle for long.

Her hands dipped lower, fingers grazing the curve of Paige’s ass before spreading her open, letting out a quiet curse under her breath.

“You’re still dripping,” Azzi murmured.

“I wonder why,” Paige shot back, voice thick with arousal.

Azzi leaned down, her lips brushing the curve of her spine. “Let me taste you.”

Paige barely had time to gasp before Azzi slid down and buried her face between her thighs—tongue parting her folds, licking her slowly at first, then with greedy precision.

Paige arched off the bed with a cry, her legs trembling.

Azzi moaned against her, hands gripping her thighs to hold her open, tongue stroking Paige’s clit with a rhythm that was relentless and loving all at once. When Paige started to fall apart again, Azzi didn’t stop—if anything, she sucked harder, fingers sliding back inside with delicious pressure.

“Azzi—fuck, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Azzi whispered, voice vibrating against her. “Give me another one.”

And Paige did—loud and raw and clenching around Azzi’s fingers like she couldn’t stop it if she tried.

Azzi kissed her way back up, face flushed and glistening, eyes dark with want. “Still feeling sore?”

Paige let out a wrecked laugh. “In the best way.”

Azzi climbed on top of her again, skin to skin, their bodies sliding together like they were still under the water. “Good. Because now I want to ride you.”

Paige grinned, dazed and aching and already so, so ready. “Bossy.”

Azzi kissed her deep and whispered, “You love it.”

And when she sank down on Paige’s fingers a moment later, head tossed back and moaning her name, Paige realized—she really, truly did.

[lostcatinthedark]

I actually liked Namjoon. I liked Indigo (not RPWP though) and thought it was a shame that it didn’t receive the support it deserved. I also felt bad for him because I knew that he received almost (emphasis on almost) the same amount of hate that Jimin got.

That IG post though, and the fact that he probably knew the entire ugly discourse that went down the weeks before the announcement of the winner and still decided to post that 💀

Some people are saying it’s probably not intentionally malicious but I don’t know man…

Needless to say, I’m disappointed in him. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin was too, although he probably would never admit it.

His posts were shady. And I'm tired of people expecting us to always give some members the benefit of the doubt for their comments about Jimin. "He didn't mean that" "it's just a joke" "they're family you don't get their bond". That's bullshit. He wasn't just happy because he won, he was happy because he beat Jimin (cue article he posted) And then he added that bts reunion article to ground things again lol. I'm sorry, but how people can't see through what they do is crazy to me. And just as armys see solos as an extention of JM, the members do too. Do people seriously think that the members (especially the chronically online ones) don't know what happens in the fandom? That they don't know what people are saying about them? That they don't see some members out charting them and know that their solos are carrying the releases? And this is not me saying that he hates Jimin or something, but I don't know how long we have to pretend that the members don't see each others as rivals and are not resentful of their support as well. That "I did some lyrics" story was also weird, and we let it pass. That "I see everyone winning and I feel like I should be doing the same" right after Jimin won a Korean show. That "My album didn't get a BB entry but..." right after Who charted in BB. Like it's obvious. I've talked before about fandom narratives and that the reason why they are so strong is because the members and the company always reinforce them with their actions. This narrative that he's the leader and deserves more for that, or that JM is a selfless cheerleader who needs someone else, the members themselves also believe that. And that's why their shadiness also comes through with their comments everytime a member steps out of their assigned box. So yes, for me it was shady and bitter, it's not the first time and it won't be the last. I think he's the best rapper in the group and a good lyricist, I liked Indigo a lot even though I didn't enjoy his last album that much for some reasons. But honestly, he needs to stop being bitter about life. This is just my opinion and I always repeat it but he always seems lost and resentful about what he has. Maybe he expected something different, but he's still a very successful artist. He just needs to find his audience and stop getting jealous (his words) about what someone else gets or doesn't get. His own mind is not letting him appreciate the blessings he has. I don't like that attitude because it's fueled by ego and that will only continue to escalate if he doesn't work through it.

And about JM, I can't really speak for him in that regard. But I think he's perceptive and also empathetic enough to at least notice and understand things when he's aware of them. I think it's not a common relationship overall because they are bandmembers, but also competition now, and also friends but also business men. So his words and actions publically have to balance all that, and I don't want to victimize him because he's an adult and knows how to handle that (or will learn if he doesn't know yet). But my perception about these attitudes doesn't change even if he's fine with that. I still think these actions are shitty and no one will convince me otherwise.

[usahanahaki]

Love me in Ruin

[Trafalgar Law x Reader]

PROMPT: After being lovers, becoming enemies was easier than becoming strangers.

Synopsis: You're held hostage on your ex's ship, and the past you and he both supposedly buried resurfaces along with the feelings you both harbored.

Author's Note: Oh my god, a decade later and I finally got around to writing my first Trafalgar Law oneshot (might become a fic? idk). I've been so down bad for this man since I was in middle school lmao, and I've always wanted to write a lovers to enemies story for him. Please note that I gave the reader the epithet Titania (the first Law fanfic I ever read did this, and I wanted to pay tribute to that). Lastly, this takes place in Wano, so if you aren't that far yet, some things may not make sense. There are some slight? plot spoilers (but nothing major), just characters that may not be familiar if you're not at Wano yet.

Side Note: Wrote this while listening to the following songs on repeat: Disease by Lady Gaga, Crashing by d4vd (with kali Uchis), and TILT by Irene & Seulgi. If you don't mind listening to music while reading, I recommend putting these three on repeat.

Warnings/Content: toxic!exes, mentions of past betrayal, anxiety, co-dependency, spoonfuls of angst, not necessarily a happy ending?I don't actually know what this is; Law and reader are just doing what toxic exes do best: dancing around each other till one folds. Law and Reader match each other's freak. No smut (yet) just kissing and sensual touches. In terms of citrus scale, I think this is lime? Def not lemon lol

Roaming these halls once more, you were reminded of your place. Nothing but cold grey metal pipes, cold chilling vents, and cold grey doors adorned the walls. Letting your fingers trail the metal pipes lining the submarine, memories of the past of when you first boarded the Polar Tang played like a silent film in the confines of your mind. This is my home too, right Law?

God, reminiscing on the past was such a drug. Indulging in the sentiments and feelings left in those memories was so addictive. You're my home Law. It was hard to leave the mind, when rationally, the only happiness and safety you had left remained in the depths of those fleeting moments. I can't live without you Law. Indulgences after all, were meant to provide relief and temporary asylum from past transgressions. But this is reality, not the past. And in this reality, this very moment, survival is the only means of perhaps rediscovering happiness and safety.

But being back aboard the Polar Tang was anything but relieving. No, not like the past. This was not the home you once found safety and comfort in.

These walls, these floors, and halls closing in are enemy territory.

He knew you were here. He knew where you were. It was only a matter of time before the distance that he and you put between yourselves became zero. The rhythmic click of his heels against the metal floors that reverberated throughout the hall was a sound you were all too familiar with. Yet again, reality was not in alignment with expectations. That familiarity was completely null, and in its place, was the sound of your archenemy slowly approaching. 

You knew all too well that Law wasn't one to let his enemies come anywhere near his family, especially not after Corazon. And that principle once used to apply to you too. But this time, you are not a Heart Pirate. You are not family. Like an ancient curse, the words "you are no longer his family" were mentally and erratically repeated over and over. 

Once a confidant and once an equal, all that remained were past titles of what you and he once were. 

His languid movements, yet firm grasp on Kikouku only reaffirmed what you and he both knew. This was not the reunion either of you ever anticipated having. 

Law did not move from his position, and his face remained hidden in the shadows, but you didn't need the light to know the nuances of his expression. Brows furrowed and cold eyes that did not look upon you with the softness and love you once knew. This was the cold, sharp, and calculated demeanor that the seas and its inhabitants knew of the man that donned the title "Surgeon of Death". A terrifying man rumored to carry life and death in his palms like playthings stood before you.

"Lost already? I thought your time with the navy would have fixed your stupidity, Titania". 

You scoffed. "Rest easy, Surgeon. These halls are engraved in my bones." Your hands remained in your pockets, but the chilling numbness that slowly spread wasn't alone. Digging your nails into your palms proved useless in ceasing the tremors. They were muscle memory—reminders of what would inevitably come.

You spoke again, "Congratulations on defeating Doflamingo, Law. Kaido, sends his regards". Law took a step forward into the light. "If you're gonna tell a lie, you should at least try a little harder to sound more believable." "Oh but he does!", you mused, "After all," your eyes wandered back to the walls, before settling back on him, "he personally sent me to greet you. He knows just how much you miss me." 

The pounding of your heart, seemed louder and louder with each beat. Law smirked, "How kind of him." He continued to move towards you, his grip on Kikouku did not waver, and his eyes remained locked onto you. Standing before you, the time you both spent apart was clear. You were not the same person you were two years ago, and he was not the same man that once held your vulnerabilities with care.

The man that stood before you was the same one that ripped your heart out in exchange for becoming a Warlord.

His free hand slowly made its way to your jawline, fingers grazing your cheek before slowly caressing your face. His eyes roamed freely, carefully analyzing the vision before him, "You haven't changed." Your right hand trailed up Kikouku, then moved to envelop his clenched fist lovingly.

"Are you sure Law?", with your left hand, you swiftly pressed your thumb right under his lips and index below the chin, forcing him to look at you directly, "Why don't you take a closer look then." Your steel resolve was not lost on him; he knew what the consequences were when he made his decision to be a Warlord, and he stood by his decision. At least, that's what you told yourself.

What gears were turning in his head? What did he have planned? What was the purpose of you being aboard his sub? Much to your dismay, there were too many unknowns at play for this little game you and he had going on to continue. Right now, you were a hostage on an enemy ship playing hooky with your ex.

Getting back to Onigashima to report back to Kaido was your top priority at the moment. After all, he had ordered Bao Huang to summon you and the other members of the Tobi Roppo for a special announcement. Yet here you were, not in Onigashima, not with the Tobi Roppo, not present for the special announcement, but stuck with your ex on his ship.

Law sighed, before letting go of your face. "You might have changed Titania, but my feelings for you haven't". You scoffed. "You certainly have a funny way of showing it, Surgeon." "Oh? We're back to Surgeon? I liked hearing my name leave your lips," he leaned in close to your ear, "Maybe I should leave you singing my name again, hm?" 

Countless times under the moon’s piercing glow, Law repeatedly had taken all that you had to give and more. What was even left of you for Trafalgar Law to take? A man who hid his immense need for unholy retribution against a foe like Doflamingo from the rest of the world and to an extent, his own crew, was one that needed to be clinically studied. 

And the papers may have concentrated on the Strawhats' conquests in Dressrosa with brief mentions of Law's contributions here and there, but it didn’t take a genius to guess who was the mastermind methodically moving each piece in place for checkmate. 

Eyes remaining glued to his figure, you gently placing your hands flat above his chest, then let them glide down softly as you recommitted his tattoos and anatomy to memory. "Sorry to disappoint", hands stopping near his stomach, you hooked your index finger around the belt loop closest to his zipper, then pulled him in even closer with your eyes glaring back at him, "but my concerts are no longer exclusive to you, Law".

Oh you had his full attention now.

Law was no longer mentally multitasking between his plans and what to do with you. There was nothing left for him to mull over. He had claimed you many times before, and now? Well, the tally was about to increase once more. Hell, who knows maybe he'd take you over and over again until he got his fill. There were many who dared to wonder what the Surgeon of Death looked like beyond his steel exterior, but only you had managed to see the fragility that lay beneath it all. At least, that's what you had hoped.

Hell if you became privy to what the man's intimate life looked like after your once shared one ended. How revolting. The mere thought of another person engaging in the same intimate acts with him that you and he once shared, was enough to push you over the edge. It's fine, you half-heartedly told yourself. You lay your head gently on his chest, pressing your ear to hear his heart beat. He's alive.

You lifted your index finger, and dragged your nail across his bare skin down his chest, and his breath had run ragged, "You want me Law?"

Tilting your head up, you began to press light kisses into the side of his neck and smiled, "Earn me." 

He was in for it now.

[stuckinmymind22]

It's totally understandable if you don't want to do it could you do headcannons for shanks, kid, and Zoro with a significant other who is above the knee amputee who hides it and they find out and with Shanks and kid she snaps at them for making deprecating comments about themselves because when they do it it makes her feel bad

yeah i can totally do that for you if you want, fair warning though i am not an amputee, but i am also not a pirate lol.

if it means anything when i was young my grandpa got a below the knee amputation from a work place accident and i remember watching him readjusting to life and learning how to use a prosthetic (i thought it was so cool, i mean his has flames in the side) also because you said it is hidden i am assuming that we have a prosthetic involved, so i did research on they types and went down a rabbit hole (i <3 reserch)

i skipped kid bc i don't think i can do him justice atm, but we have Shanks wc: 547 | fem! reader | established relationship | new amputee | angst or hurt/comfort idk pls tell me

Zoro wc: 1055 | gn! reader | pre-relationship or platonic | longtime amputee | he's just being zoro

sorry it's so late, i forgot to finish this, been working on it since mid-april when this was sent

shanks

“I fear I’m only half the man I used to be.” You heard Shanks from down the table as he waved his missing arm. You knew the bit; you had never liked it, but it was how he dealt with it, so you had always kept your mouth shut. Now, however, it was different. Because now it wasn’t just him.

He had the luxury of time on his side, everything was still fresh for you. He’d had over a decade to adjust to losing a limb, for you it hadn’t even been ten days.

Shanks had been there too. He had been the first to arrive at the scene after it happened. You knew he’d come running as fast as he could after he’d heard your cry of pain. He’d seen you sitting on the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you tried to stop the bleeding. Both of you stared at the leg that was no longer attached to your body. 

“So I’m less of a woman, yeah?” You asked Shanks as you played your turn in a game of cards. His face dropped. You were expressionless, which did not bode well.

“No, no, Doll, you know that’s not what I meant at all,” he tried to back pedal. You just hummed passively and refocused on the game, forcing it to continue again. Shanks knew that he had really fucked up. No emotion was far worse than tears. The gears in his brain were turning, how could he fix this?

You felt him approaching, but you refused to look at him. “Darlin’, ‘m sorry,” Shanks whispered into your ear before kissing the top of your head. The gesture was nice, but you weren’t going to let it go that easily, so you ignored him.

Nothing made Shanks crumble like getting the silent treatment. 

He tried multiple different times in multiple ways to get you to talk, but nothing seemed to work. The longer it lasted, the worse it became. You had been mad at him before, but this was a different flavor and it left an awful taste in his mouth. Still, he had to make it right.

A part of you knew that you might be taking it too far for a simple joke, but you were hurt. Losing a limb so suddenly had left you more insecure than you were willing to admit, but you wouldn’t go back and change a thing. A leg was a small price to pay for the lives of those kids. Still, it was hard. Really hard. 

At the same time, Shanks had barely left your side since it had happened. He had been there for you in a way that no one else could, not only as a partner, but as someone who could understand. He’d listened to you and your fears but it has also been the light at the end of the tunnel. Shanks knew it sucked, but he also knew it became easier with time, and he never let you forget that.

You never accepted his apology officially, but, after an hour of him floundering, you leaned your head on his shoulder and that was enough. He whispered words of love into your hair and kissed your head and you were back to normal.

zoro

wc: 1055 pre-relations or platonic | longtime amuptee

Your prosthetic leg had been bothering you for hours, but with a day full of battles that left no moment for respite, there had been no time to address the issue. It was painfully obvious that you had been wearing it for far too long; the sore [stump] had become swollen at some point. Truthfully, you had been pushing your luck with it, and now you had to deal with the consequences. 

There was something so vulnerable about removing your leg that made you hate doing it in front of others, but it couldn’t/could no longer be helped. Your personal quarters weren’t quite personal when shared; more often than not, you would sneak into some corner of the ship when you needed a break from the prosthetic.

You hopped up onto the ship’s railing on a rarely visited and secluded part of the deck and sighed. The relief you felt once you removed your leg from the socket and removed the liner that connected the two and provided a barrier was immense and immediate. Gently, you massaged the area, gradually applying pressure until the pain lessened. Once it felt better, you laid down on the railing to soak in the remaining daylight.

After a long day and a challenging battle, all Zoro wanted to do was have a drink. Seeking some peace and quiet, the swordsman went to a quiet part of the ship. Luffy and Usopp were being loud by the crow’s nest, so he went to his second favorite napping spot.

Alerted by his approaching footsteps, you opened your eyes and sat back up. The man looked alarmed at the sight of a rather realistic, dismembered leg next to you. His shock puzzled you; while you weren’t exactly open or forthcoming with the fact that you were missing a limb, it wasn’t something you kept a secret, at least not anymore. 

Zoro being oblivious wasn’t anything new, but his reaction made you realize that no one on the crew had ever commented or asked about your leg. It made you wonder if they even knew about it. Zoro was probably the first one who saw you without it, Luffy excluded. You had initially met the excitable captain under similar circumstances. You remembered how excited and fascinated Luffy had been about the prosthetic and how he had overwhelmed you with questions. At the time it had made you super uncomfortable and Luffy had been quick to drop it once he had noticed.

Thinking about it, Luffy had never brought your prosthetic up again even in all the months you had been on his crew. He also had kept that information to himself, even without you present to keep his mouth shit, which was something he had a history of struggling with at times especially when something excited him. It made you respect your captain even more — if that was even possible.

To his credit, Zoro had been quick to mask his surprise, and, although his eyes lingered a second or two longer, he stopped staring. “Wanna drink?” An unusual offer from the man. It was an apology for seeing something you had tried to keep hidden. “I’m good,” you responded, lying back down. You felt Zoro standing still and could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. “You can stay if you want, I don’t mind.” A grunt was the only sign that he had heard you before he plopped down nearby.

The pair of you existed like that in silence for a while. The warmth from the sun started dwindling, a late sunset. The long days in the Grand Line/New World continued to delight you, even after years it was far off from the cold region you had grown up in. Your leg felt worlds better after the rest, you were almost ready to put it back on. Sitting up you pulled the leg closer to you, starting to put it back on.

“It hurt?” Zoro suddenly questioned. “Now? Or when I lost it?” Zoro shrugged in indifference. You hummed, trying to decide how much to answer. It had been a long while since you had explained it to anyone; after all, you had never answered Luffy’s questions. “When it happened, I was in too much pain to feel it, really. Like it hurt so much that it didn’t hurt at all. If that makes sense,” you started. The swordsman nodded. “But the recovery was hell. Had to relearn how to walk twice, once with crutches and once with the leg.” As you spoke, you started the process of putting the prosthetic back on. “Not really an experience I’d recommend, but it happened. There’s no going back, so I’ve learned to live with it.”

“The worst part’s when it itches. Because it literally is an itch you can’t scratch. But if I keep this thing on too long, it can hurt. I don’t really know how to describe it; it isn’t exactly something that’s relatable.” The swordsman’s calm demeanor made you more forthcoming with information; he wasn’t judging and he wasn’t pitying you — he was just listening.

“Got any other questions?” The offer to share more surprised you as the words left your mouth. After it had first happened, a lot of people asked a lot of questions, understandably so, but as time wore on, you had gotten rather irritated by strangers questioning you, so you started hiding that you were an amputee. That had proven to be a strategic choice when you had gotten into pirating — your enemies can’t exploit what they don’t know.

“Nah. Don’t really care,” Zoro responded. He wasn’t being rude with his comment; rather, the new information had no impact on how he viewed you, and so he found no point in learning more. You had to hold back a laugh — it was a very Zoro answer of his.

“Sure, you don’t want any?” The swordsman offered again, extending the nearly empty bottle your way. “’S almost gone; you can finish it off if you want.” It was hard to turn down his kindness, so you thanked him and let the alcohol burn your throat— or rather tried. “How do you drink that?” You coughed; whatever he had had been ridiculously strong. He laughed deeply at the comment and your inability to finish the drink.

i love you all and thank you for reading, don't forget to drink water and have a good day (or go to sleep idk)

masterlist | silly things | directory

[dreamwritesimagines]

Yes! Maybe instead of “celebrating” as Hazel thought they would, Bucky is upset that she would say something like that in front of Birdie. Like I just found out the girl that I’ve had a crush on for such a long time finally broke up with her stupid boyfriend and you just humiliated me in front of her??? Are you serious?? At least that’s how I see it, I know he doesn’t play about Birdie at all and maybe he knows that Hazel was trying to hurt Birdie and that’s something you do not want to do…like at all lol

Oooh I'm so glad you brought this up darling! 😱🥰 Because I have so many ideas about it! 🩷 Thank you so much! 🥰

Bucky was definitely upset that Hazel said that in front of Birdie and it's so nice that you caught that little detail!

Okay so that scene and the way Bucky stole a look at Hazel when she said that was open to interpretation but I have a headcanon😏 And I'm going to ramble about it, I apologize in advance but I'm very curious what you guys will think of it asdfghjkl😂

So okay, in Bucky's perspective, that joke was in bad taste at the very least 😏 And that's one of the times we see the small signs of him growing up in the early 1900s and his family had money, aka he was raised in a very specific way.

(I read a blog post while researching Bucky's background, basically it said his family had a car during Great Depression, which was a big thing, he spent a lot of money -a lot in terms of 1940s- on a teddy bear, and also him having read the Hobbit the year it came out meant his father got the first edition for him from England because it wasn't printed in US until like a year later, which meant James Barnes Sr. could travel around and stuff during a financial crisis, so all those details together show that Barnes family had money, unlike Rogers)

Back to the topic, so Bucky was raised in a time where etiquette was a thing, and he had wealthy parents which also shows they would expect him to behave a certain way in society. And then he joined the military, and of course the soldiers didn't care about the strict manners or anything, there was a lot of vulgarity between them EXCEPT when it was in front of women, that was a big rule among them.

Bucky has adapted a lot, he knows the modern rules are different than 1940s but he still has some traces of those times that we will see flashes of😁

And, the kind of innuendo that Hazel made was usually -at most- between couples, not in front of a third party. That type of stuff had to be more "subtle" but Bucky was very much aware that all three of them knew exactly what Hazel was talking about. Hazel basically announced to Birdie that they would be having sex, which, he knows Birdie knows they do, but Hazel saying that -or more like boasting about it in front of Birdie who was basically on the verge of tears when she found out about them and stopped talking to him for two months?

He did not like that at all😈

So yeah that's my hc about that scene lolll😂