Injured W/ The 141

you can catch me in Vegas, catch me in Tokyo

BFF's Brother's BFF

prompt: Trevor has a thing for Quinn's best friend

word count: 3,056

warnings: mentions throwing up

“You got everything,” Quinn asks closing the trunk of the car. I give him and nod and follow him up the driveway and to the lakehouse. This is my first year as a guest here, it only took months of begging Q for him to invite me. We met on a blind date set up by Brock that ended up just not working out. In just a few short weeks he had become my very best friend. I knew the reason he wasn’t over the moon about me being here had nothing to do with me, and all to do with his brothers and friends. 

He warned me that the guys were a lot and that if any of them did or said anything to let him know. Quinn very quickly settled into the role of big brother in my life, he could just be a tad overprotective. My thoughts were interrupted by yelling and a loud thud. I shoot him a look and he just shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Still wanna spend two weeks here with these idiots,” he asks opening the door and letting me step in first. 

It takes the guys a second to notice us, but when they do the room becomes eerily quiet. One of them smacked another,” Jack you didn’t say Quinner was bringing a girl home.” Quinn puts a hand on the small of my back and leads us to the staircase,” ignore them.” I take one more look at the couch full of guys and they all watch us go up the stairs. “Here we are,” he says ushering me into a room. After doing a quick look around I noticed a few framed pictures on the dresser. Dropping my bag on the bed, I pick up a picture of the three Hughes boys when they were younger. “Q you were so cute,” I gush showing him the picture. “What like I’m not now,” he jokes which results in me throwing a pillow at him.

“Sorry we have to share a room, it’s just I had no idea they were gonna stay longer,” he started but I quickly cut him off. “Quinn it’s fine. It’s not like it will be the first time we have shared a bed before. It may be the first time when we are both sober though,” I laugh and start unpacking some of my things. “Depending on how these goofs act I may not be sober tonight,” he sighs walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he yells. “Okay sounds good,” I yell back. After thirty seconds I am bored and decide to check out the rest of the house. 

My steps on the stairs alert the packed living room and nine heads all snap in my direction. I give them a smile and walk into the room settling on the floor next to a guy wearing a habs hat. “So what are you guys playing,” I ask looking over at them. “Mario Kart. I’m Cole by the way. I’m one of Jack’s friends,” the boy next to me says holding his hand out and I give it a gentle shake. “I don’t know if Quinn told you but I’m Y/n,” I say more to the group. “He in fact did not,” the guy behind me said and I leaned my head backwards to see his face. He gives me a wide smile which I return. Even upside down, he was cute.

“Uhm no ma’am. Nope. Not happening,” Quinn says coming into the room and making a beeline for me. “What did I do,” I ask confused. “It’s not you. Quinn and Z have a love-hate relationship,” Jack laughs. “Yeah Trev loves Quinn and Quinn loves to hate Trev,” Luke jokes causing the whole room to erupt in laughter. “Trevor move,” Quinn says standing waiting beside the couch giving him a stern dad look. Laughing and rolling his eyes Trevor does get up and move but not before leaning down and whispering,” We will continue this later,” followed by a small wink. 

“No, you won’t. Anyway, Y/n these are the idiots you will be coexisting with the next two weeks. You already know Jack and Luke. This is Alex, Cole, Mark, Ethan, Dylan, and Mackie. And I see you’ve already met Trevor,” he sighs. Even though he may act like it, I can see a brotherly type of love between the two. After a couple more rounds of the game, we all decide to head outside and hang out. “C’mon Mackie be my partner,” Mark whines looking at the curly-haired boy who just laughs. “No way. Do you remember the last time we teamed up in beer pong,” he asked the tall blonde. Mark gives him a very confused face and shakes his head no.”Exactly. We were too drunk to remember because you suck.”

“I’ll be your partner. That is if that is okay with you,” I say walking up to the table. “Really,” he asks excitedly. I have enough time to nod my head once before he pulls me into a bear hug. I laugh and wrap my arms around him hugging him back. “You’ll have to excuse Mark. His love language is physical touch,” Ethan says coming up and standing by us. “No problem. Mine is too. It’s nice to be around someone else because it takes almost everything to get Quinny to cuddle with me,” I joke staying tucked into Mark’s side, more like trapped but I didn’t complain. “Whatever,” I hear Quinn grumbled from one of the lawn chairs near the table. I give him and smile and wink at him. He laughs along with Alex, Cole, and Jack who are all seated near him.

“Okay so me and Duker versus Y/n and Mark,” Luke says setting up the cups. I’m handed the ball first because “ladies first.” I laughed at a bunch of college hockey players being so persistent on the rule. Lining up my shot I take a deep breath and sink the ball into the red plastic cup. Everyone gives me a shocked look, except Quinn and Mark. Q knew that I was good at this and Mark was just happy about maybe winning a game for once. “She literally went to a party college,” my best friend points out. “Why didn’t you tell us that before,” Luke groans drinking the warm beer from the cup. There was no telling how long they had sat in the hot sun before we started the game. His older brother sent him a shrug,” You didn’t ask.”

After several scores from both sides, it was time for hopefully the final shot. Duker and Luke had two cups left in front of Mark and me, while we had one cup in front of them. Mark stands behind me and gives my shoulders a rub like a coach would his prized boxer. I couldn’t help but laugh at the younger boy who shushed me. “Hey, this is important Y/n. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I have won one of these games,” he starts out with a serious face and then lets out one of the loudest laughs I have ever heard. Ignoring all the guys I move forward to take my shot and sink yet another ball. 

The cheering would have made you think someone had won the Stanley Cup. I am quickly picked up and swung around. “You are my permanent partner,” Mark jokes finally putting me down. “What about when school starts back,” I ask laughing at the boy. “You’ll just have to come back with me. You can take my room I’ll sleep on the couch.” I shake my head at him,” All to win a game of beer pong.”

After winning two more games I excuse myself from the guys and walk towards the house. I stop by Quinn on the way,” You need another beer while I’m up.” He just nods and gives me a smile while still listening to Cole tell a story. Stepping inside I head to the kitchen where I see Trevor sitting on the counter eating a piece of watermelon. “You plan on sharing that or just hiding in here eating it all,” I laugh scaring him. “Shit. You scared me I didn’t hear you come in,” he says putting down the fruit and placing a head on his heart. I roll my eyes at his dramatics and walk to the fridge grabbing out a drink for me and Quinn’s beer. Turning around I walk towards the counter Trevor is on and lean against it.

“I guess I’ll share with you. But just don’t tell the guys because it will be gone in like 0.2 seconds,” he laughs and his bright blue eyes crinkle when he does. I take a small piece from him and pop it into my mouth. “Oh my god. This is so good,” I almost let out a moan at how sweet it was. “Right. It has got to be like the top ten I have ever had,” he says handing me another. “More like top three,” I smile up at him. After staring at him for a second I nod my head towards the door,” I should get Q his drink before he sends a search party.” He nods and slides off the counter moving to hold open the back door for me. “Why thank you, kind sir,” I say with a terrible British accent. “What kind of gentlemen would I be if I let a pretty girl hold her own door,” he smiles down at me. 

Red rushes onto my cheeks as we make our way to join the group at the firepit. Quinn spots us walking up and pats the seat next to him. “Here you go,” I say passing him his beer while making eye contact with Trevor who was sitting directly across from me. “So Y/n you never told us how you and doofus met,” Jack smiles at his brother before turning his attention to me. I immediately laugh and try to cover it with my hand before anyone hears it. “Don’t you dare,” Quinn looks down at me and pinches my calves that are thrown over his legs. “C’mon Quinny. It’s not that bad. We’ve talked about this,” I tell him rubbing his arm. “Oh now we have to know,” Duker says leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees all zoned in.

I glance at Quinn, who is hiding his face behind his hands. “I live in the same apartment building as Brock right? So one day he told me about this teammate he has that he wanted to set me up with,” I started and was cut off by the oohing and ahhing of everyone around us. “Anyway he sets up the date and tells me when and where to meet Q. Everything was going fine, he was a total gentleman, made me laugh, and all that cutesy shit. After that is when it went downhill,” I say while locking eyes with my best friend, silently asking if I could continue. He nods and rolls his eyes preparing for the bullying.

“So we were walking around this park and all of a sudden I noticed Quinn stop. I turn around and see that he is super pale-looking and sweaty. As I reached up to feel his forehead, he tried to stop me from getting too close but it was too late. He puked all over my legs and shoes,” I laughed remembering the look on his face when he finally stopped. He was so sad and embarrassed. “I ended up taking him back to his place and taking care of them for the whole night and most of the next day,” I finish my story taking a sip of my drink. “Them,” Ethan asked from beside me. “Oh yeah, it ended up being some kind of bug that was going around the team. He and Petey were all miserable in their room while Brock was all laid out on the couch. Three grown men who were acting like babies,” I joke nudging Quinn with my foot. 

After five minutes of laughter and chirping from the guys Quinn finally stops them. “Okay okay, I get it. I ruined a date with a pretty girl by throwing up on her,” he sighed. “But you got a new best friend out of it,” I smile. He nods his head,” Yeah any person who will take care of a guy she just met who also puked on her is best friend material,” he jokes. “You are way too good of a person,” Alex says causing a chorus of agreement. “Seriously. I probably would have left him in the street,” Luke laughs. I shake my head at the guys. “Well if we are telling bad first date stories, let me tell you guys about Mackie’s last date,” Ethan laughs trying to take some of the heat off Q. I reach over and give his hand a squeeze as a silent thank you.

Slowly everyone started to turn in, leaving only Jack, Trevor, and I outside. “You know what. I’m glad my brother puked on you,” Jack exclaims swaying as he stands up. I lean forward in case he falls, he had just a few too many tonight. “Oh really why is that,” I ask watching the brunette slowly stumble towards the house. “Because without it we wouldn’t have met you duh,” he yells from the porch and says goodnight. Trev and I share a look and burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, he was so far gone,” I say getting up and moving to the seat Jack had just left, right next to the ducks player. He turns in his chair to look at me better. “That is nothing. You should have seen him at his 21st,” he says telling me all about how they had to talk the cop out of arresting Jack for petting a police horse while drunk.

The later that we stayed outside the cooler it got. The fire was starting to die down but the conversation wasn’t. I was learning that Trevor was a really easy person to talk to and I was really enjoying getting to know him. I shiver and I lean down and set my drink on the ground wrapping my arms around myself. “You cold,” he asks concerned. “A little but it’s fine. I’m pretty much always cold. Ask Quinn he keeps blankets and jackets everywhere so he doesn’t have to hear me complain,” I try to laugh off the shivers. He leans forward shrugs off his Team USA hoodie and holds it out towards me. “No Trev I can’t take this. I don’t want you to get cold,” I say lightly pushing it back to him, “Either you put it on or I’m putting it on for you.” I think about his words almost telling him to do it, but hearing a small voice in the back of my head telling me this was a bad idea. The voice sounded a lot like Quinn's. 

“You know I’m really glad Q brought you,” he says looking out towards the dock and watching the water. “Yeah me too,” I smile at him. “You know even though he gives you a hard time he really does love you,” I say standing up and stretching. “Yeah,” he asks following suit and standing up checking the fire for any embers. “Totally. He gets so excited when you come to town and play him. Also, he talks about you just like he does Jack and Luke,” I confess as we walk into the house. “I don’t have an older brother, I’m the oldest. So he has kinda become that for me,” he whispers as we make our way into the kitchen throwing the empty bottles away from tonight.

“Yeah me too. He’s my best friend but he looks out for me like an older brother,” I say quietly washing the few dishes from dinner. Trevor slides in next to me bumping my hips with his as he takes them from me to dry. “So hypothetically if I wanted to see you again maybe when I come to town and play Q again what would you say to that,” he asks looking down at me. His eyes look even prettier in the dim kitchen light above the sink. “Hypothetically I would wonder why we have to wait that long when I am here now for two weeks,” I smile. He blushes and nods. “But that’s only hypothetical of course,” I lean up and give his cheek a small peck, then turn to walk upstairs. “Goodnight Trev,” I say turning around to see him in the same spot I left him in. “Goodnight,” he whispered almost too low for me to hear it.

I make my way into the room and climb into bed next to Quinn. He shifts in his sleep and throws an arm out pulling me into his chest and cuddling. I can’t help but smile at him and just let it happen, “Thank you for coming. The guys all really like you. Mom’s already texted asking to come down to meet you because of Jack and Luke’s praise,” his voice deep with sleep. “It would be an honor to meet Queen Ellen. I have so many questions,” I laugh into his chest falling asleep.

The next morning I wake up and head downstairs coming into the kitchen. “Morning,” I say to a room full of half-asleep hockey players. “Morning Y/n. Hey, who’s hoodie is that,” Quinn asks coming over to where I sat at the counter and handing me a cup of coffee. “Yours,” I respond with a quick glance to Trevor. “No. Mine is back in Van remember Milo used it as a chewing toy. His eyes look down at the hoodie and then over to the table. “Oh my gosh Y/n. Of all people Trevor seriously,” he whines hitting his head against the fridge lightly before looking up at me. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me during the year Quinny,” Trevor says walking over and throwing an arm around the Canuck’s player.

Going UP?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn't get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student's desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball's golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you're trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it's worth taking the shot. Sometimes cupid doesn't use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Featuring: One (1) very broken elevator Several questionably colored cocktails A security guard who's seen it all Basketball plays drawn in spilled Shirley Temples Analytics-based flirting And a whipped cream fight that definitely isn't regulation play

Coming soon to wherever meet-cutes happen in college sports. (Rated R for excessive basketball puns and gay panic)

WC: 8.1k (roughly)

Genre/Notes: uh, i tried to be funny, floofy, rom-com-ish? (i tried), smut at the end, someone gets their kitty ATE, proof read like 50%

Your sneakers pound against the cracked, patchy sidewalk of North Campus, dodging the construction zone that's been "two weeks from completion" since freshman year. The November air bites at your cheeks, sharp as broken glass, and your laptop bag repeatedly slams into your hip with each stride, probably turning your thesis notes into digital confetti. A gust of wind lashes at you, tugging at your jacket, your hair, your sanity, and sending a rogue candy wrapper tumbling like a lonely tumbleweed across the quad like some 50’s Old West showdown. 

You'd woken up to three missed calls from your advisor and an email that made your soul leave your body.

Meeting moved to 9:15 AM. Please bring updated analytics models.

It's 9:12.

The universe is really testing you today. First, your roommate's cat knocked your phone off the nightstand, somehow managing to turn off all five of your alarms. Then, the dining hall’s card reader had the audacity to look at your student ID like it was written in crayon, leaving you to scavenge through your bag for exact change like a Victorian orphan. And now this.

You weave through the crowd of freshmen congregating outside the Student Union like they've never seen stairs before, your thermos of room-temperature coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid. The wind whips a forgotten syllabus past your feet as you cut across the grass (sorry, campus maintenance), taking the "shortcut" that everyone pretends they don't use. You can practically hear the landscaping team groaning somewhere, shaking their heads at the worn-down dirt trail you and a thousand other students have carved into their perfect lawn.

Gampel Pavilion looms ahead, all glass and steel and architectural hubris. The morning sun hits it at an angle that makes it look like it's on fire, which feels appropriate given your current state of mild panic. You've spent so many hours in this building that the security guard, Mike, doesn't even look up from his crossword puzzle anymore when you scan your ID.

"Running late?" he calls out as you blast past his desk.

"What gave it away?" you shout back, already halfway to the elevators. Your sneakers squeak against the polished floors, leaving behind a faint trail of panic and shame— but most importantly, dirt. 

The ancient LED display above the elevator shows it's on the third floor. You slam the up button approximately forty-seven times, as if that's ever made an elevator move faster in the history of vertical transportation.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, shifting your weight between feet like you're doing some demented speed-skating warm-up. Your laptop bag keeps sliding off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure your hair looks like you styled it in a wind tunnel.  A strand falls into your eyes, and you blow it away with a frustrated huff. Everything about you screams disaster, and yet the elevator couldn’t care less.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with all the urgency of a DMV employee on a Friday afternoon.

And there she is.

Paige Bueckers is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, one foot propped up behind her, looking like she just stepped out of a Nike ad. Her practice uniform is pristine, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail that somehow hasn't gotten the memo about today's wind situation. She's got AirPods in, absently spinning a basketball between her hands like it's an extension of her body.

Your brain short-circuits. 

Time seems to slow down as you stand there, probably looking like a deer caught in very attractive headlights. The elevator dings again, threatening to close its doors on your moment of crisis.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward just as the doors start to close, practically diving into the elevator like you're trying to save a ball going out of bounds. Your coffee sloshes, your bag swings, and you nearly face-plant into the corner.

Paige pulls out one AirPod, her eyebrows raised so high they might achieve orbit. "Nice entrance."

You straighten up, trying to salvage whatever dignity might be hiding in the corners of this elevator. "Thanks, I've been practicing."

The elevator starts its ascent with a concerning rattle that definitely wasn't part of the original design. You adjust your bag for the hundredth time, very aware that you probably look like you just lost a fight with a leaf blower. Meanwhile, Paige keeps spinning that damn basketball, the soft thump-thump of it between her hands matching rhythm with your still-racing heart.

Nine floors to go. Eight if your advisor hasn't moved offices again after the Great Coffee Incident of last semester.

You can handle this. You're an adult. A slightly disheveled, possibly caffeine-deprived adult, but still. Just because you're sharing an elevator with the university's basketball goddess doesn't mean you need to—

The lights flicker once. Twice.

The elevator shudders like it's having an existential crisis.

Then everything stops.

The emergency lights kick in, bathing everything in a red glow that makes Paige look like she's starring in a very stylish apocalypse movie. The basketball stops spinning.

"Well," she says, tucking the ball under her arm and giving you a smile that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip. "Looks like the universe has other plans for us this morning."

You look at your phone: 9:14 AM.

Your advisor is going to kill you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, jabbing at the emergency call button like it personally offended you. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

The little red light blinks back at you, mocking your entire existence, as if to say, yeah, good luck with that, idiot. You hit the button again, harder this time, because maybe the elevator just needs some aggressive encouragement.

"I don't think that's helping," Paige says, watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. She's still spinning that goddamn basketball, the rhythmic thump-thump now feeling less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown to your academic doom.

"Yeah? Well, neither are you," you snap, immediately regretting it. Great. Now you're trapped in an elevator AND you've just been rude to Paige fucking Bueckers. "Shit, sorry, I just—" You run both hands through your already catastrophic hair. "My advisor is going to crucify me. Like, actually crucify me. She's probably got a cross picked out and everything."

Paige catches the ball mid-spin. "Dr. Martinez?"

"How did you—"

"The only professor I know who actually might own a cross for student crucifixions." She tucks the ball under her arm. "She made one of our freshmen cry last week just by looking at her."

"That tracks." You slide down the wall opposite her, your legs finally giving up on the whole standing thing. "God, I can't believe this. I've got my entire thesis presentation on this laptop, three months of analytics data that I haven't backed up because I'm an idiot, and now I'm going to die in an elevator with—" You wave vaguely in her direction.

"With?" She raises an eyebrow, and you swear there's a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"With UConn's basketball savior who's probably missing practice right now because the universe decided today was a great day for some cosmic practical joke." You let your head thunk back against the wall. "Coach Auriemma's probably already got a hit out on me."

Paige laughs, and the sound does something weird to your chest. "Nah, Coach is more of a 'make you run suicides until you puke' kind of guy. Much less paperwork than murder."

"Fantastic. So I'll die from academic execution AND athletic retribution. Perfect way to start a Tuesday."

"You always this dramatic before 9:30?" She's definitely smirking now.

"Only when I'm trapped in elevators with pretty girls who should be at practice."

The words are out before your brain can catch up with your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you seriously consider trying to pry open the doors and jump down the shaft.

But Paige just grins, wide and dangerous. "Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're deflecting from the fact that we're stuck in a metal box that's older than both of us combined," you say, proud of how steady your voice comes out despite the internal screaming.

"And I think you're deflecting from the fact that you just called me pretty."

You pull out your phone again, desperate for a distraction. "No signal. Perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Could be worse," Paige says, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her feet almost reach where you're sitting, and you absolutely do not notice how long her legs are. "Could be stuck in here with Dr. Martinez."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Jesus, don't even joke about that. She'd probably make me defend my thesis right here."

"Yeah? What's it about?"

You look up from your phone to find her watching you with what appears to be genuine interest. "You really want to know?"

"Well," she gestures around the elevator, "it's not like I've got anywhere else to be."

You narrow your eyes. "If this is some kind of pity conversation—"

"It's not." She cuts you off, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm actually curious. Plus, you look like you might spontaneously combust if you don't talk about something other than being stuck in here."

She's not wrong. Your leg has been bouncing non-stop since you sat down, and you're pretty sure you're about to wear a hole in your bottom lip from biting it.

"Fine," you say, setting your phone aside. "But remember, you asked for this. And if you fall asleep, I'm using that basketball as a pillow."

Paige's eyes light up with something that makes your stomach flip. "Deal."

"Okay, so you know how current basketball analytics are basically just glorified box scores?" You shift to face her properly, your earlier panic morphing into the kind of enthusiasm that usually makes people's eyes glaze over. "Like, sure, we can track points and assists and whatever, but that's just the obvious stuff."

"And there's more than the obvious stuff?" Paige asks, settling in like she's actually planning to follow your inevitably chaotic explanation.

"So much more." You pull your laptop out, balancing it on your crossed legs. "Like, imagine being able to track not just who made the shot, but all the little things that made that shot possible. The way players move without the ball, how defensive shifts create spaces that don't show up in any stat sheet.”

Your hands start moving as you talk, painting invisible patterns in the air. Paige has stopped spinning her basketball, her eyes following your gestures with an intensity that makes you warm all over.

"It's like..." You pause, trying to find the right words. "You know how in chess, sometimes the most important move isn't the one that takes the piece, but the three moves before that made it possible?"

She nods, leaning forward slightly. "Like a setup play."

"Exactly!" You're fully animated now, previous elevator crisis temporarily forgotten. "But current systems don't track that. They don't see how Player A moving left makes Player B's defender shift just enough that Player C can—"

The emergency speaker crackles to life, making you both jump.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" The voice sounds bored, like stuck elevators are just another Tuesday morning inconvenience.

Paige reaches over and hits the call button. "Yeah, we're here. Two people."

"Alright, we've got maintenance heading up. Should have you out in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight."

The speaker clicks off, leaving you both in that red-tinted silence again.

"Fifteen minutes," you groan, letting your head fall back against the wall. "Dr. Martinez is definitely going to have that cross ready."

"Hey," Paige says, and something in her voice makes you look at her. "Tell me more about your system. How do you track all those micro-movements?"

You blink at her. "You actually want to hear more?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?" She's got this soft half-smile that does dangerous things to your ability to think straight. "Plus, you get all..." she waves her hand vaguely, "sparkly when you talk about it."

"Sparkly?"

"Yeah, like you're lit up from the inside." She says it so casually, like she hasn't just made your heart do a full court press against your ribs.

You clear your throat, trying to remember how words work. "Right. Well, um, I've been working with the computer vision lab to develop these tracking algorithms..."

The next fifteen minutes dissolve into a blur of technical explanations and basketball theory. Paige asks surprisingly specific questions, and you try not to look too pleased every time she leans in closer to see something on your laptop screen.

When maintenance finally gets the elevator moving again, it feels too soon.

The doors open on the fourth floor – your floor – and you scramble to pack up your laptop, suddenly aware that you've spent the last twenty minutes word-vomiting about analytics to one of the best basketball players in the country.

"Thanks for, uh, keeping me from completely losing it," you say, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And sorry about the whole..." you gesture vaguely at yourself, "chaos."

Paige stands too, and even in the normal lighting, she's unfairly pretty. "Chaos looks good on you."

Your brain short-circuits. "Can I get your number?"

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into the nearest trash can. But Paige just grins, that dangerous one that makes her look like she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Tell you what," she says, spinning the basketball on one finger because apparently she's physically incapable of not showing off. "Come to Friday's game. If you can spot one of those micro-interactions you were talking about..." She lets the ball roll down her arm and catches it smoothly. "Maybe you'll find out if I give my number to random girls I meet in elevators."

She backs into the elevator, maintaining eye contact until the doors close between you.

You stand there for a solid thirty seconds, staring at the brushed metal doors like they might reveal the secrets of the universe. Or at least explain how you went from having a mental breakdown about your advisor to what definitely felt like flirting with Paige Bueckers.

Your phone buzzes: another email from Dr. Martinez.

Meeting rescheduled to 2PM. Bring coffee. The good kind.

You look back at the elevator doors, then at your phone, then at the ceiling.

Looks like you're going to a basketball game on Friday.

The security guard at Gampel's student entrance looks at your ticket, then at you, then back at the ticket with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people trying to use expired coupons at Target.

"This is— courtside," he says slowly, like maybe you don't understand what those words mean.

"Yeah, I, uh,” You shift your weight between feet, very aware of the growing line behind you. "I got it in an email?"

It comes out like a question because honestly, you're still not entirely sure this isn't some elaborate fever dream. The past three days have felt surreal, starting with Dr. Martinez actually smiling during your rescheduled meeting (turns out that fancy coffee shop downtown does make a difference) and ending with an email from pbueckers@uconn.edu that made you choke on your morning cereal.

The security guard squints at his scanner like it's personally offending him. "These are usually reserved for—"

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice cuts through the growing awkwardness, and you turn to find Mike, your elevator-lobby guardian angel, approaching with his signature "I've seen too much student nonsense" expression.

"Got a courtside ticket here, but—"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, shooting you a look that's somewhere between amused and knowing. "This one's good. Let 'em through."

You mouth a 'thank you' as you pass, and he just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "kids these days" under his breath.

The student section is already packed, a sea of navy and white that ripples with pre-game energy. But your ticket directs you past all that, down, down, down the steps until you're so close to the court you can smell the fresh polish on the hardwood.

"This isn't happening," you mutter to yourself, dropping into your assigned seat—which is literally close enough to high-five players coming off the court. "This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just casually sitting courtside at a sold-out game because you got trapped in an elevator and word-vomited about basketball analytics for twenty minutes. Totally normal Friday night."

The woman next to you, wearing what looks like several hundred dollars worth of UConn gear, gives you a concerned side-eye.

"Sorry," you say, slinking lower in your seat. "I talk to myself when I'm having an existential crisis."

She just nods and shifts slightly away, which, fair.

The arena fills up quickly, the ambient noise growing from a buzz to a roar. You try to look casual, like you totally belong here and didn't spend forty-five minutes earlier having a breakdown about what to wear to a basketball game when you're sitting close enough to be on TV. (You'd finally settled on jeans and a UConn hoodie, figuring if you're going to have a gay panic on national television, you might as well be comfortable.)

The teams come out for warm-ups, and your heart definitely doesn't skip when you spot number 5 leading the layup line. Paige moves like she's got some sort of cheat code for gravity, each motion fluid and precise. She's got her game face on, all focused intensity and practiced routine, but then—

She catches your eye as she circles back to the line, and her serious expression cracks just enough to let through a hint of that dangerous grin from the elevator.

"Oh, I am so screwed," you breathe, and the woman next to you shifts another inch away.

The game itself is a blur of motion and noise. You try to focus on analyzing plays like you promised, looking for those micro-interactions you'd rambled about, but it's hard to think strategically when Paige keeps making passes that shouldn't be physically possible. Your laptop's probably having a stroke trying to track all these movements.

By halftime, UConn's up by twelve, and you've filled three pages of your Notes app with what started as technical observations but has devolved into increasingly incoherent capslock about various impressive plays. The latest note just says "HOW DID SHE EVEN SEE THAT CUTTING GUARD??? PHYSICS???? HELP????"

"Nice analysis."

You nearly drop your phone. Paige is right there, pretending to adjust her shoes by the bench but clearly smirking in your direction.

"I'm being professionally thorough," you whisper-hiss back, trying to ignore how your pulse is doing full-court sprints.

"Uh huh." She stands up, heading back to the huddle, but not before adding, "You look good in UConn blue, by the way."

You spend the entire third quarter trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The fourth quarter is when you see it—one of those perfect setup plays you'd theorized about. Paige moves left, drawing her defender, while simultaneously nodding almost imperceptibly to her teammate. The slight movement causes a chain reaction: the defense shifts, creating a gap that shouldn't exist, and suddenly there's a perfect passing lane that materializes out of seemingly nowhere. The ball flows through it like water finding the path of least resistance, resulting in an easy layup that looks simple but was actually three moves in the making.

You're on your feet before you realize it, pointing and probably looking deranged. "That! That's exactly what I was talking about! The head fake was the trigger but it wasn't even about the—" You cut yourself off, becoming aware that several people are staring at you, including the woman next to you who's now practically in the next seat over.

As the final buzzer sounds (UConn by 18), your phone buzzes with a new email.

From: pbueckers@uconn.edu

Subject: Nice catch

Body: 617-555-0147

PS - Your "professional analysis" face is reaaaaallly cute. Even from ten feet away.

You stare at your phone long enough that the arena starts to empty around you, afraid that if you look away the numbers might disappear like some basketball Cinderella story. The woman next to you finally gets up, edging past with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals.

"Sorry about all the,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

She just pats your shoulder with grandmotherly sympathy. "Honey, I've been watching basketball for forty years, and I've never seen someone have a gay awakening quite that enthusiastically. Good luck with number five."

You're still sputtering when she disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with a phone number and the distinct feeling that the universe is either laughing at you or playing matchmaker.

Possibly both.

Nah— Definitely both.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, your bladder kindly reminds you that you stress-drank an entire large iced coffee before the game. Fucking wonderful. You glance at the concourse—and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.

The bathroom line snakes around the corner like some kind of hydra-headed monster, full of people who clearly had the same brilliant beverage ideas you did. You briefly consider just holding it and dealing with the consequences later, but your body has other plans.

"This is karma," you mutter, taking your place at the end of the line. "This is definitely karma for all those times I made fun of people waiting in long bathroom lines."

The girl in front of you snorts. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from the same coffee-based poor judgment."

Twenty minutes. Twenty. Entire. Minutes.

You've gone through every social media app twice, responded to three emails you've been avoiding, and played enough Candy Crush to rot your remaining brain cells by the time you finally emerge from the bathroom. The arena is practically empty now, just cleaning crew and a few lingering fans.

Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, that number burning a hole in your mind. You pull it out, staring at the digits like they might rearrange themselves into instructions on how to text your elevator-meet-cute crush without sounding like a complete disaster.

To: 617-555-0147

Hey, this is your favorite elevator analytics nerd. Great game tonight. That fourth-quarter setup play was chef's kiss

You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every word choice. Chef's kiss? Really? Maybe if you run fast enough, you can catch up to your dignity before it leaves the building entirely.

Your phone buzzes before you can fully commit to your shame spiral.

From: Paige 🏀

some of us are heading to murphy's for dirty shirleys if you want to continue your "professional analysis" in person? promise there won't be any elevators involved

You nearly trip over your own feet.

Will there be a formal presentation required? Should I prepare slides?

just your sparkling personality and maybe an explanation of how you knew that play was coming before I did 😉

Bold of you to assume I wasn't just gesturing wildly at a mosquito 

we both know you're too much of a basketball nerd for that. meet you there in 20?

You pause at the arena exit, looking down at your very casual, very not-prepared-to-go-out outfit. But then again, when has anything about this situation been normal? 

Your eyes shoot back to your phone and your frantic typing begins once again.

Only if you promise to explain how that behind-the-back pass in the third quarter didn't break several laws of physics

deal. and hey?

Yeah?

the hoodie really does look good on you

Your stomach shoots to your ass and you stand there grinning at your phone like an idiot until Mike, doing his final security rounds, walks by and shakes his head.

"Don't stay out too late, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "These love stories always get complicated when they start in elevators."

"That was literally ONE MOVIE," you shout after him, but he just waves without turning around.

You look down at your phone one more time, then up at the now-empty arena, and can't help but laugh. Somehow, a broken elevator, an understanding security guard, and a basketball player with a dangerous grin have turned your disaster of a week into whatever this is.

Time to find out if Dirty Shirleys taste better when you're sharing them with a girl who can bend physics on a basketball court.

Murphy's is exactly what would happen if a sports bar had a baby with a college town dive and raised it on a strict diet of neon signs and questionable decor choices. The walls are plastered with enough UConn memorabilia to fill a museum, if museums were into collecting signed napkins and mysteriously stained jerseys.

Your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics as you push open the door, immediately hit by the smell of mozzarella sticks and what you really hope is just decades of spilled beer. The place is packed with post-game energy, and you're pretty sure your heart stops completely when you spot Paige at a corner booth, still in her game-day warmups because apparently she just casually walks around looking like a Nike ad.

"Analytics nerd!" she calls out, waving you over with that stupid grin that makes your brain cells commit mass suicide. "We saved you a seat!"

The 'we' turns out to be a collection of players who could probably stack on top of each other and touch the moon. You slide into the only open spot—right next to Paige, because the universe is clearly not done testing your ability to form coherent sentences today.

"Everyone, this is the elevator girl who knows more about our plays than we do," Paige announces, and your face goes hot enough to fry an egg. "Elevator girl, this is everyone."

"I have a name, you know," you manage, trying to ignore how her shoulder is pressed against yours in the crowded booth.

"Yeah, but 'elevator girl' has a better ring to it," she says, sliding a violently pink drink your way. "Plus, it's technically accurate."

"So is 'basketball menace' but you don't see me—" Your mouth snaps shut as her teammates start cackling.

"Oh, I like this one," says a girl you recognize as KK Arnold, grinning like she just got early Christmas. "She's got bite."

"She's got analytics," Paige corrects, but she's looking at you with something that makes your stomach relocate to somewhere in the general vicinity of Jupiter. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you caught that play coming."

You take a long sip of your Dirty Shirley to buy time, immediately regretting it when the sugar content threatens to give you instant cavities. "Holy shit, what's in this? Pure pixie stick powder?"

"Don't deflect," Paige says, poking your side. "We've got a whole team of analysts and none of them caught it. So spill."

"Fine, but only because you bought me diabetes in a glass." You shift to face her, accidentally-on-purpose letting your knee rest against hers under the table. "It was your head."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "My head?"

"You've got this tell," you say, getting into it now because apparently basketball analysis is your ideal flirting language. "This tiny little head tilt you do when you're setting up something sneaky. Like a cat about to knock something off a table, but make it basketball."

The entire table goes quiet, then erupts in laughter.

"She's got you there, P," Ice wheezes. "You do look like a menacing cat sometimes!"

Paige is staring at you with a mix of indignation and something else that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. "I do not have a cat tell."

"You absolutely do," you say, emboldened by sugar and the way her eyes keep dropping to your lips. "It's actually kind of cu—"

"SHOTS!" someone yells, and suddenly there's a tray of something alarmingly blue being passed around.

"Oh god," you mutter, watching the liquid slosh ominously. "Is this what happens when a Smurf dies?"

Paige nearly chokes on her drink. "That's terrible!"

"Just like these shots are about to be?"

She leans in close—too close, definitely too close for your remaining brain cells to function—and whispers, "Good thing I like terrible jokes."

Your stomach shoots to your ass (and possibly into another dimension) as she pulls back with a wink that should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.

"I hate you," you inform her, grabbing one of the Smurf funeral shots because if you're going to have a gay crisis in a college bar, you might as well commit fully.

"No you don't," she says with absolute certainty, and the worst part is she's right.

You really, really don't.

The night dissolves into a blur of increasingly ridiculous drinks (who knew they made something called a "Husky Howl"?), basketball stories that get more elaborate with each round, and Paige's thigh pressed warm against yours under the table. You learn that she stress-bakes before big games, that she once tried to teach her dog to play basketball, and that when she really laughs—like, really laughs—she snorts a little and it's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At some point, Azzi starts drawing up plays on napkins with increasingly chaotic drink-fueled creativity. Aaliyah Edwards keeps stealing her pen to "fix" the defensive rotations, while Nika Mühl throws wadded-up straw wrappers at both of them, critiquing their "absolutely trash spacing."

"No, no, look," KK follows imaginary lines with her finger across the napkin, accidentally dragging it through a puddle of spilled Shirley Temple. "If we run this here, and then—" she grabs your arm— "you're the defense, okay? Stand up."

"I absolutely am not," you protest, but Paige is already pulling you up with that stupid grin that makes your knees forget how joints work.

"Come on, elevator girl," she teases, positioning you near the booth. "Show us those analytics skills in action."

"I hate all of you," you mutter, but you're laughing as KK tries to demonstrate some elaborate defensive scheme that mostly involves her spinning in circles while Aaliyah provides unhelpful commentary.

"Your footwork is trash, bestie," Aaliyah calls out, now using maraschino cherries to build what appears to be a scale model of the paint.

"YOUR footwork is trash," KK shoots back, then promptly trips over nothing.

"Ladies, ladies," Paige steps in, all faux seriousness undermined by the way she can't stop grinning. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

She moves behind you, hands settling lightly on your hips, and your brain immediately flatlines. "See, proper defensive stance is all about—"

"Get a fuckin' room!" Nika yells, launching another straw wrapper that hits Paige square in the forehead.

"Actually," Paige says close to your ear, and your stomach does approximately seventeen backflips, "I've got that new analytics setup at my apartment if you want to see it. You know, for research purposes."

You turn to face her, very aware that her hands haven't moved from your hips. "Research purposes?"

"Mhmm." That dangerous grin is back. "Purely academic, of course."

"Of course," you manage, trying to ignore the way your pulse is doing a full drumline routine.

"Oh my god," KK groans from the booth. "This is worse than when Aaliyah tried to flirt with that barista using coffee puns."

"Hey!" Aaliyah protests. "That was smooth!"

"You asked if she wanted to 'espresso' her feelings!"

"And now we're dating, so who's the real winner here?"

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics, but her thumbs are drawing small circles on your hips that are making it very hard to focus on anything else. "So? Want to help me with some late-night analysis?"

Your stomach shoots to your ass as you meet her eyes, finding them sparkling with something that definitely isn't just about basketball statistics. "I mean, it would be unprofessional to turn down a research opportunity..."

"GET OUT OF HERE," Azzi throws a cherry that sails completely wide of both of you. "Your gay panic is ruining my plays."

"Your plays were already ruined," Nika points out, helpfully redrawing the vodka-smudged X's and O's with what appears to be lip gloss.

Paige grabs her jacket with one hand and your hand with the other, tugging you toward the door. "Don't wait up, nerds!"

"USE PROTECTION!" Aubrey shouts after you, causing several nearby tables to choke on their drinks.

"I mean, analytics can be very dangerous," you say with mock seriousness as you step into the cool night air, very aware that Paige hasn't let go of your hand. "All those numbers flying around."

"Absolutely hazardous," she agrees, pulling you closer as you walk. "Better stick together. For safety."

"For safety," you repeat, hoping she can't feel your pulse racing where your fingers are intertwined. "And research."

"And research," she echoes, giving you that sidelong grin that makes your heart forget how to beat properly. "Though I should warn you..."

"Yeah?"

She stops under a streetlight, turning to face you with eyes that sparkle with mischief. "My elevator works perfectly fine."

Your laugh echoes off the empty street. "Damn. There goes my backup plan."

"I'm sure we can find other ways to get stuck together," she says, and your stomach relocates somewhere in the general vicinity of Mars.

As you follow her down the quiet streets of Storrs, your joined hands swinging between you, you make a mental note to buy Mike the biggest coffee gift card you can afford.

Broken elevators might just be your new favorite thing.

Paige's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who's somehow both a basketball prodigy and a complete dork—there's a literal trophy shelf right next to a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops, and her UConn jersey hangs framed above what appears to be a very elaborate gaming setup.

"Nice lightsaber," you say, nodding to the collector's edition propped in the corner.

"Nice deflection from how your hands are shaking," she shoots back, shrugging off her jacket.

"It's cold outside!"

"Uh huh." She disappears into the kitchen, and you hear cabinets opening. "Want some hot chocolate? I promise it's better than those nuclear waste shots Aubrey kept ordering."

Your stomach does a weird flip at how domestic this feels. "Only if you have—"

"Mini marshmallows and whipped cream? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

You follow her voice to find her already pulling out mugs, one of which has "Ball is Life" written in what appears to be glitter pen. "The kind that owns a bedazzled basketball mug?"

"First of all, Nika made this for my birthday and it's a masterpiece," she says, grabbing milk from the fridge. "Second of all, you're just jealous of my sophisticated taste."

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing says sophistication like..." you pick up a container from the counter, "unicorn hot chocolate mix?"

She snatches it back, fighting a grin. "It's limited edition!"

"Of course, my mistake. Clearly I'm in the presence of a fine dining connoisseur."

The kitchen fills with the smell of chocolate as she heats the milk, and you try not to stare at how she's rolled up her sleeves, forearms on full display as she stirs. You fail miserably.

"See something you like?" she asks without turning around, because apparently she has eyes in the back of her head.

"Just admiring your hot chocolate technique."

"My technique is excellent, thank you very much." She turns, holding up a can of whipped cream with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Want to see?"

Your throat goes dry. "I feel like this is a trap."

"Maybe." She takes a step closer, and your back hits the counter. "But you've been analyzing my moves all night. Shouldn't I get a turn?"

You're about to say something witty—really, you are—but then she's shaking the whipped cream can and all your brain cells collectively abandon ship.

"Don't you dare—" 

The words are barely out before she's spraying whipped cream directly at your face. You squeal (not your proudest moment) and grab for the can, resulting in a brief wrestling match that ends with cream basically everywhere except in the actual mugs.

"You're such a menace!" you gasp, trying to wipe cream off your nose while she cackles.

"Says the girl who called me out on my head tilt in front of my whole team!"

"That's different! That was professional analysis!"

"Oh yeah?" She steps closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. "Analyze this."

Your heart stops as she reaches up, thumb gently wiping whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Time seems to freeze, your entire world narrowing to that point of contact and the way her eyes drop to your lips.

"Your technique could use some work," you manage to whisper, and she laughs—that real laugh, with the little snort that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

"Maybe you should show me how it's done then."

Your stomach shoots through the floor as you reach up, threading your fingers through her hair (definitely getting whipped cream in it but whatever), and pull her down to meet you.

She tastes like chocolate and whipped cream and something uniquely her, and you can feel her smile against your lips as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"How's that for technique?" you murmur when you finally break apart, both breathing a bit harder.

"Hmm." She pretends to consider it, but her eyes are sparkling and her hands are still firmly on your waist. "Might need more data to make a proper analysis."

"Oh my god, you're actually worse than me with the nerd references."

"You like it," she says with absolute certainty, leaning in again.

"Maybe," you concede against her lips. "But only because you're cute when you're being smug."

She pulls back just enough to give you that dangerous grin that started this whole thing. "Just cute?"

"And modest, clearly."

"I'll show you modest," she growls, and then she's kissing you again, deeper this time, backing you further against the counter until you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body entirely.

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, 

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, forgotten in the haze of warm laughter and sticky fingers. At some point, her lips found their way back to yours, sweet and a little messy, and now you’re on her couch, knees bumping against hers as you both settle into an almost tentative rhythm. She pulls back just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, and her breath fans across your lips in short, uneven bursts.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, her voice low and a little breathless, her hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of your collarbone.

“You like trouble,” you fire back, and there’s just enough of a spark in your tone to make her grin.

“I really do,” she admits, and before you can respond, her lips are on yours again, slower this time, deliberate. It’s not the playful teasing from before—it’s something heavier, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest and your hands curl into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as she shifts, nudging you gently until your back hits the cushions. She hovers above you, her knees bracketing your thighs, her ponytail spilling over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss you again. This time, it’s a little rougher, her teeth catching on your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and the sound seems to light something in her eyes.

“You’re killing me,” you murmur against her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her grin sharper now.

“Good,” she says simply, and her hands are on the hem of your hoodie, tugging it up. “This okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard, and she doesn’t wait for a second invitation. The hoodie’s off in a flash, tossed somewhere behind the couch, and her eyes sweep over you like she’s committing every inch to memory. Her hands are warm as they skim over your sides, fingertips brushing against bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the way she says it makes you believe her, even with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage, trying to sound casual even as she leans back down, her lips finding the curve of your jaw and then lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands find her waist, and you can feel the strength of her beneath the soft cotton of her sweatshirt, her muscles flexing slightly as she shifts against you.

“Should we,” she starts, her voice trailing off as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear, and you answer it by pulling her back down, your lips crashing into hers with more urgency than before.

“Definitely,” you say between kisses, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.

Her sweatshirt joins your hoodie somewhere on the floor, and her hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your hip. It’s all a blur of heat and soft laughter and the kind of clumsy, sweet desperation that only comes with two people trying to figure out how they fit together.

The couch is too small, the angles all wrong, and at some point, she pulls back just enough to breathe, “Bed?”

You nod, and then she’s pulling you to your feet, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours as she leads you toward her room. There’s something about the way she looks back at you, her grin soft and a little nervous, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

The moment you’re through the door, she’s on you again, her hands sliding up your back as she kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every curve, every shiver. The bed is soft beneath you, and her weight is solid and warm as she follows you down, her knee nudging between yours as she leans over you.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘research’ thing,” you tease, and she laughs against your collarbone, the sound low and husky and so incredibly her.

“Don’t distract me,” she murmurs, and her hands are on you again, her touch firm and sure and just a little shaky in a way that makes your chest swell with affection.

And when she kisses you again, slow and deep, you think, for the first time all week, that maybe the universe actually got something right.

The mattress dips under her weight as Paige pulls back just enough to take you in, her hair falling loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a way that feels criminally unfair. There’s a glint in her eye now, something teasing but focused, like she’s about to run the most calculated play of her life.

“You look nervous,” she says, her lips curling into that sharp grin that’s been undoing you all night.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, though your voice cracks on the last syllable like your body’s calling you out.

She chuckles, low and throaty, and leans down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, and I don’t need you overthinking it.”

Before you can process what she said, she’s sliding down your body with deliberate slowness, her hands dragging over your sides, down your hips, and hooking around the waistband of your leggings. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking permission, and the second you nod, she pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling bare and achingly vulnerable.

“Holy shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, her eyes locked on you like she’s just stumbled on a masterpiece at an art museum. Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that send shivers racing up your spine. “You’re so—” She stops, shakes her head, and looks up at you with that cocky grin. “Nah, I’m gonna show you instead of telling you.”

Her lips press to the inside of your knee, soft at first, but as she moves higher, her kisses grow hungrier, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you squirming.

“Paige,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, but she just hums against your thigh like she’s savoring her favorite meal.

“Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as she shifts lower. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Your response gets caught in your throat as her mouth finally finds you, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had promptly evaporates. Her tongue moves with the same precision she has on the court, all calculated angles and devastating accuracy, and it’s like she’s figured out exactly how to dismantle you.

“Fuck—Paige—” Your hips jerk involuntarily, but her hands hold you steady, her grip firm enough to keep you grounded while her mouth does the opposite.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her lips glistening, and there’s a wicked glint in her eye that makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hang tight,” she says, reaching toward the nightstand.

“What are you—oh my God,” you gasp as she pulls out a vibrator, the sleek little device gleaming like it was made for moments like this.

Paige winks, all confidence and mischief, as she turns it on, the low hum filling the room. “You trust me, right?”

You nod, because at this point, you’d probably trust her to lead you into a cult if it meant feeling like this.

“Good.” She leans back down, her mouth finding you again just as the vibrator presses against you, and the combination is so overwhelming it almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your hands fly to her hair, tugging as the vibrations send shocks of pleasure racing through your body, and her tongue works in tandem, teasing and relentless. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, with every calculated movement.

“Paige, I—” Your words dissolve into a moan that would make your ancestors weep, your thighs trembling as she doubles down, her grip on you tightening.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, her voice low and full of something that sounds dangerously like pride. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you do. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets as your vision whites out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you swear you hear yourself speaking in tongues.

Paige doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching, and even then, she presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back with the most self-satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“Did I just—” You pause, catching your breath, your voice hoarse. “Did I just have an exorcism?”

Paige laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you did, I think I’m gonna need to start charging for holy services.”

“Fuck you,” you say weakly, though the way you’re still grinning probably ruins the effect.

She crawls back up to you, her body warm and solid as she settles next to you, her arm slinging over your waist. “Oh, you’re definitely going to want to do that next,” she teases, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you’re laughing, still breathless and a little wrecked, but somehow more at ease than you’ve felt in ages. Paige grins down at you, smug but soft, and you think, maybe, that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sometimes the best love stories start with a malfunction.

Just don't tell Mike. He's smug enough already.

The End

His Little Girl Is Not Yet a Warrior

Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader

Plot: You are Jake and Neytiri’s only daughter. You and Lo’ak disobey your parents and travel to a dangerous cave where you fall and hurt yourself. Your dad rescues and comforts you while you’re being healed. The two of you have a discussion around your safety.

Warning: blood, injury

You and Lo’ak laugh as you race each other through the thick forest. Your chest burns and your legs are starting to ache, but you refuse to quit. He might be older, but you are for sure faster and you are gunna prove it. You pick up speed and manage to pass him for a second before he inches in front of you and tags the tree marked as the finish line.

“Ha! Point for me baby sister,” Lo’ak says with pride as he jogs in place and pants from exhaustion.

“Yeah yeah whatever, I almost had you at the end there,” you reply with annoyance.

You often hung out with Lo’ak while Neteyam was out hunting and going on missions with your parents. The two of you had not yet become warriors, meaning you had to miss out on all the important missions. Despite how incredibly annoying Lo’ak was as a big brother, you had a connection with him because you both felt like you were living in Neteyam’s shadow.

Lo’ak was the middle child, often ignored unless he was causing trouble… which he usually was. And you were the youngest, always sheltered despite being better at hunting than most kids your age. But for the most part you accepted it, knowing you would prove your worth when the time came.

You bend over with your palms resting on your knees to catch your breath after the race. Just then you got the bright idea to prank Lo’ak. It would be the perfect revenge for when he scared you earlier this morning. You place your hand to your chest and start to breathe heavy, as if you are struggling to get air through your lungs.

“Y/N, you okay?” Lo’ak asks with concern, but you don’t respond.

He runs over to you to see what is wrong. He takes your hand and lifts your face to look at you. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Gotcha!” You shout in his face and push him backwards. He stumbles and falls to the ground.

“No fair, you’re playing dirty!” he yells while sitting up.

“Looks to me like you’re the only one playing in the dirt big brother,” you tease him before holding out your hand to help him up.

Lo’ak takes your hand and proceeds to yank you down onto the ground where he is.

“Another point for me… you never learn,” Lo’ak throws his head back in laughter.

You playfully slap his arm and you both laugh with each other before taking a break to figure out what to do next.

“Wanna head back?” You ask.

“Nah, it’s not even close to eclipse. If we go back now, grandmother is going to force us to do those chores we forgot about.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Hmmm, we could check out that cave we found that one time when we were hunting!”

“I don’t know… Dad said we werent allowed to go there without him cause the terrain seemed unsafe. He would kill me if I took you there.”

“You scared or something?”

“Im not scared, I’ve just been on thin ice with Dad lately… I’m trying not to screw up again.”

You give him an annoyed look. You couldn’t believe that out of all the times Lo’ak would want to start a clean streak, it would be now.

He rolls his eyes at you. “Of course you don’t get it, mom and dad let you off easy. Me? Not so much.”

You knew that he was right… your brothers always got into more trouble because your parents gave them more responsibility. But you weren’t giving up that easy. You put on your best pouting face and look up at Lo’ak.

“You and Neteyam got to go with dad last time and he made me stay home. You said the cave was so cool, I just want to feel included.”

Lo’ak looks like he is thinking the decision over. You slip your arms around his waist to hug him and plead. “Please big brother? I’ll love you forever.”

“You already love me forever.”

“I’ll love you forever times infinity.”

After several moments of silence and contemplation, Lo’ak agrees.

“Fine, I’ll take you. But no playing around while we’re there, okay?”

“No playing around, got it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Lo’ak calls to his ikran and hops on. Then he takes your arm and helps you up as well. You sit in the front of him and he holds onto your stomach with one hand to keep you in place while holding the reigns with the other.

You were used to riding as a passenger because you had yet to pass your iknimaya. But the time would come soon, and you couldnt wait to have your own Ikran. Maybe then, you’d be treated a little more seriously. For now, you enjoy the feeling of the wind on your face as you lean into your brother’s chest and begin the journey to the cave.

You arrive at the cave opening and Lo’ak helps you down.

“Hold my hand the whole time, okay? I know the path, but I dont want you to fall.”

“Okay,” you respond and you take your brother’s hand.

Lo’ak begins to lead you deeper into the cave and you look up and around in awe at the colorful crystals surrounding you. “Its so beautiful here.”

“I know right, look at these cool structures over here,” he says while pointing to the left.

“Woah!” You exclaim. Lo’ak smiles at you, feeling happy that you are enjoying it already.

You reach a leveled platform in the cave and he releases your hand. “You can walk here on your own, but be careful. Step lightly.”

Excitedly, you leave his side and walk around to observe all the intriguing shapes and patterns on the cave walls. You stop and stare at one structure with spirals and shimmering purple stones. Pandora was your home, but there was always new things to explore… even more beautiful than the last. You turn back to glance at Lo’ak and see that he is admiring the illuminated stones on the ceiling.

After looking around a bit more, you see that there is a small pool of water to the far right of the area. A pond in this cave? So cool. You walk over to it and kneel down to get a closer look. There are tiny fishes swimming around, creating streams of bioluminescence the water. You dip your hand in and let them graze your fingers as they swim. It tickles, which causes you to giggle.

At the sound of your laugh, Lo’ak turns to see what you’re doing. “Y/N! Get away from there, it doesn’t look stable!” He yells.

“Huh?” You ask and you swiftly stand and move to turn towards him. But as you shift your weight, your foot slips, causing you to fall further down into the cave. Your body scrapes against the rough walls but you barely feel anything with the adrenaline from the fall.

“Y/N!” Lo’ak screams.

You finally stop sliding and your body hits the cave floor hard. You grunt in pain, putting a hand to your head where it hurts.

Lo’ak runs over, carefully slides down to where you are laying, and puts a hand behind you to support your head while he examines your body. His eyes travel to your legs. “Shit, this cut is bad.”

You look down and see a gash running from below your right knee to the middle of your calf. You barely felt it before, but once you see the blood, the pain begins immediately. You wince and feel the tears rising up.

Without question, Lo’ak turns on his comms and calls for your father.

“Dad!”

“Lo’ak?”

“Y/N’s hurt… it’s a huge cut on her leg.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the old cave. I know we shouldn’t be here, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“You should have something to wrap her cut in the pouch on your ikran saddle. Don’t move her, go get it and bring it back to her. I’m coming right now. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Let me talk to her.”

Lo’ak connects the comms to your ear. “I’ll be right back,” he says before leaving to start climbing the cave walls.

“Dad?” You call to your father.

“Hey babygirl, I’m coming to get you. How you doing?”

“My leg is cut, there’s so much blood. And my head really hurts.”

“Lo’ak is getting something to wrap your leg and stop the bleeding. Take deep breaths, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.”

Lo’ak comes back quickly, trying to be extra careful around the slippery, unstable edges. He jumps down to where you are, kneels in front of you, and lifts your leg onto his thigh. He wraps it carefully and tightly with some cloth. You hiss in pain as the fabric touches the wound and stings. The blood quickly stains the cloth, but it was the best he could do for now.

You turn to your brother apologetically, tears now streaming down your face. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to bring me here.”

“It’s okay baby sister, don’t worry about it,” he assures you as he wipes your tears and rubs your back.

“Dad is gunna be so mad that we came here. I’m so stupid.”

“He could never be mad at you. I’ll take the blame,” he says as he moves to sit behind you, pulling you into his lap and being extra careful around the more smaller cuts and scrapes on your body.

You and Lo’ak always bicker and tease each other, but you know he would do anything for you. This was a clear example of that. He is selfless when it comes to others, and you feel guilty that he is willing to do this for you.

“Thanks Lo’ak. You can have all the points, okay?”

He laughed in response. “Don’t mention it.”

“It hurts,” you cry.

He places a hand gently on your head to soothe you. “I know, Dad is gunna be here soon and then they can fix you up.”

You close your eyes and wait for your father to arrive. After about 10 minutes, you hear the screech of his ikran and the flapping of it’s wings above.

“Lo’ak! Y/N!” He shouts.

“We’re down here, dad!” Lo’ak replies.

You hear your father run across the cave floor and carefully slide down to meet you. Lo’ak moves aside so your father could get to you.

“Daddy!” you cry. Feeling the tears well up again at the sight of him.

Jake puts a hand on your cheek, “I’m here, babygirl.” He moves to your leg immediately and carefully removes the blood stained wrapping to examine the wound. Blood continues to pool out.

“Fuck,” he blurted out in shock at the sight of the gash, forgetting to censor himself around his children. “That’s gunna need stitches, baby.” He tosses the bloody bandage to the side and begins to wrap it with a new one.

You groan at this statement, anticipating more pain when you get home.

“We gotta get you up this ledge,” he says as he helps you up. He drapes your arm over his shoulder and grabs your side. You hiss from the contact of your scrapes with his body.

“I know it hurts, we’ll be home soon” he says to you before turning to your brother.

“Lo’ak, go up first so you can help her.”

“Hop on one leg baby, I got you” he says to you.

They manage to hoist you up over the cave ledge and your father starts to carry you over to his ikran.

He turns to Lo’ak in the process, “what the hell were you thinking? I told you never to come here without me or your mom, and you took Y/N with you?! What if something worse had happened?”

Lo’ak looked ashamed, but prepared to be scolded as he was so used to it. “I know, I’m sorry Dad.”

“You clearly don’t know, cause you did it anyway. I’m gunna deal with you when we get home,” he says sternly.

“It’s not his fault, Dad. I begged him to bring me here, he didn’t want to.”

Lo’ak raises his head to look over at you in surprise. His expression turned worrisome, wondering what his dad would say.

Jake looks down at you in his arms in frustration. “Alright, we’ll discuss this later.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in your dad’s chest, wanting to cry once more. Your wounds are painful… but surprisingly not as painful as getting your brother into more trouble with your dad.

He presses his comms and calls to your mom. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

“Ma Jake, did you reach them?”

“I got em, she cut her leg badly but she’s alright.”

Your mom sighs in relief. “Thank you, great mother.”

“We’re on our way back now, meet us there when you can,” he tells her.

He secures you on his ikran as best as he can and you all take off towards home.

Your grandmother immediately gets to work once you arrive back at the village.

“Lay still my child,” she says to you.

“Grandmother, how much is this going to hurt?”

“Only a little stinging. Once this is over, I will give you something to numb the area. You will not feel the stitches after that.”

You nod to her to continue the treatment.

“Squeeze my hand when it hurts, sweetheart” Jake tells you as he moves to sit beside you. You nod and interlock your fingers with his, preparing for the worst.

“Take a deep breath,” Jake tells you as he breathes deeply, instructing you to follow. He rests his available hand on your heart, mindful of the way it is racing. You feel calmer already, grateful for his presence. “It’ll be okay, I’m right here.”

As your grandmother disinfects the wound, you feel the painful stinging and you grip your father’s hand tight while squeezing your eyes shut. He rubs your back to soothe you.

Mo’at reaches for a small bowl and passes it to Jake. “Ma Itan, rub this generously on her smaller wounds,” she instructs her son-in-law.

Jake obeys and releases your grip to begin placing the medicine gently on each of your cuts and scrapes.

“Does that hurt, baby?” He asks with concern.

You shake your head and he gives you a light smile.

Your grandmother was right, you barely felt the needle from the stitches. Your dad talked to you the whole time to distract you from it. Once it was done, he picked you up and carried you to bed.

“It’s been a long day, we’ll talk in the morning” he tells you as he leans down to kiss you on the forehead.

“I’m not tired,” you lie. You were exhausted, but you needed to speak to him now.

“Hm, I would’ve thought all that crying you did earlier would tire you out” he teased playfully.

“Stay with me, dad? Just for a little while and then I’ll sleep.”

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me to, my love.”

He pulls you into his lap and hugs you tight. You let your body relax into his hold. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to make you and mom worry.”

“I know,” he assures you as he holds your head to his chest and tucks your stray hairs behind your ear.

“Don’t punish Lo’ak, he was just trying to do something nice for me.”

“I know.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You know?”

He laughs lightly. “You cant fool me little one, I know your brothers take the fall for you sometimes. You give em those eyes, and they can’t say no to you.”

“What eyes?”

“The ones you’re giving me right now,” he says before placing another kiss on the tip of your nose.

Your father’s affection makes you feel so much better. You smile and lower your eyes, your face feeling warm from embarrassment.

He let out a deep sigh. “What should I expect though. You are my daughter, trouble calls and you answer I suppose.”

Your smile starts to fade. “It’s not like I wanted to get into trouble.”

“Then why? Why did you convince your brother to take you to do something that I specifically said not to. I told all of you that it wasn’t safe.”

“Because you took Neteyam and Lo’ak there last time. I had to stay home, it’s not fair dad.”

“They are older than you.”

“I’m only 2 years younger than Lo’ak, but you treat me like im a baby.”

“You’re MY baby.”

“Im serious, Dad. Even now, you’re not listening to me.” You sit up and cross your arms, wanting to create some distance between you two. You continue. “Admit it, it’s not cause I’m young. It’s cause I’m a girl, you dont think I can handle it.”

It hurt Jake to hear you say this. Had he let his little girl think she was not good enough?

“That’s not true, Y/N.”

“Yes it is! But I’m a good hunter too, even if you don’t think so! And in a year, I’ll pass that test and have my ikran, and then you cant keep me trapped here.”

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away, not wanting to show more weakness in front of him.

Jake’s expression softened at the sight of you. He hated that he made you so upset. And he hated that you felt trapped. Had he been going overboard?

“Come here,” he says as he opens his arms for you.

You shake your head in defiance, not wanting to give into him.

“Please, baby? I’m sorry, just come here.”

You began to uncross your arms but your father closes the gap before you have the chance to. He pulls you into a hug and rubs your back. It feels nice to be back in his arms. No matter how mad you were with him, you always felt so much comfort in his embrace.

“Y/n, I know you’re capable. I know you’re a great hunter… and you’re right, maybe I did shelter you a little too much.”

Your expression turns hopeful, surprised that he agreed with you.

He continued. “But… that doesn’t give you the right to disobey me and put yourself and your siblings in danger. Can you understand that I need to protect you?”

“Yeah,” you reply while lowering your head, not wanting to face him.

He lifts your chin so that he could see your eyes. “I’m sorry that I made you think you weren’t good enough to be out there with me and your brothers. And I’m sorry that I don’t consider taking you more often.”

You look up at him as he says this and tears start to form in your eyes again. You blink and they fall down your face.

“You are enough, and you can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let anyone make you think differently, not even me.”

You smile at him brightly, appreciative of his apology and wise words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Jake cups your face in his hands and wipes away the wet streaks with his thumbs. “There’s that smile, so beautiful. Where’d you get that from?”

“Mom, I think” you say while grinning.

He smiles at you. “Definitely from mom.” He sighs deeply and you both sit for a little while in the silence. “You’re still so little, even though I know you’re getting older. It’s scary sometimes, I just don’t wanna lose you babygirl… but I know I’ve got to let you go at some point.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. “I’m not going anywhere right now, daddy.”

Jake chuckles and squeezes you back while running his hand over your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay, promise me something?” he asks while he holding out his pinky.

You sit up and stare at him intently, waiting to hear the rest.

“Promise me that you wont do something dangerous like this again… and as long as it’s safe… I’ll promise to take you with me on the next mission.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You need to know what it’s like out there.”

You gasp excitedly and hook your pinky onto his. “I promise.” You connect your thumbs together to seal the deal and he brings your hand up to his lips.

“…after your leg heals up of course.”

“Oh… right,” you reply as you slump over in disappointment.

Jake throws his head back and erupts in laughter.

“Not funny!” You yell.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. It’ll heal in no time, sweetheart.” He pats the spot next to him. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

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© asterias-record-shop

You Showed Up

summary: your boyfriend is playing in the world cup but your own career conflicts with his games. he thinks it's an issue of commitment but little does he know, with the help of one of his teammates, you'll be there in time for the final

requested: yes, by @thehappygrungelife

⚠️: none, bland ending ? help

pairing: lionel x shy!supermodel! reader

authors note: in this, reader is a supermodel so uber busy and uber famous. her and leo are dating but aren't exactly public

the end is like fluff in the sickening sweet way i do it LOLL

-

It was a late night at your place. All the curtains were drawn in your Parisian apartment and the lights were on the lowest setting. You were on the sofa with your boyfriend, your head on his shoulder while you both scrolled mindlessly on your phones. With a sigh and looked up and saw his packed bags by the door.

The constant reminder that this was the last time you’d be together until the tournament ended.

Frowning, your eyes remained on the packed bags causing Lionel to look up. "What's wrong bebé?"

“Just gonna miss you when you leave." you replied.

He smirked. "Easy solution. Come with me."

You pursed your lips and gave him a matter of fact look. "You know I can't, I have fittings and castings all throughout January."

Lionel sighed. "Yeah well it'd be nice to have you watch me. You know, help make our relationship public."

A nervous laugh escaped your throat. Aside from being who you were and the career you had, your personal life was completely private. No one knew much about you or your relationships and you liked it that way. You weren't comfortable enough like Lionel to have the media and fans know every single thing about you so when the two of you began dating, he had agreed to keep the entire thing under wraps.

He saw the indecision on your face and nodded. "You don't want to."

"It's not that." you weakly smiled. "I'm just private."

"Too private to let everyone know that you’re in a relationship?”

You said nothing, running a hand through your hair. This was not the argument you wanted to deal with before his departure.

"We've been dating for a year and a half and you still dont want to go public?" he continued.

"Leo-"

He shook his head. "Are you concerned about what the media will say? Are you embarrassed?"

Your face scrunched up in confusion. "What? Get real.”

"I mean, we never go anywhere together. And if we are in the same place, you never acknowledge me in public and you refuse to even admit we're even a couple until we're in the privacy of your own place! Not even mine."

"Okay." You pushed yourself off of the couch. "This is not an argument worth having so I'll see you in bed."

Leo rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Y/n, stop. Come here."

"I'm tired, I've been working all day. I'll be in my room."

You didn't even bother looking back at him as you walked straight to your room. Being as petty as you were, you took an insane amount of time getting yourself ready for bed. Lionel was already in your bed before you even finished and said nothing as he watched you make multiple trips back and forth from your room to the bathroom.

When you finally finished, you shuffled to your bed where he waited, his hands folded behind his head.

"Nice pajamas." he smiled.

Looking down, you pulled the hem of one of his training tops that you paired with one of his pants.

"Thank you. A special man gave them to me." you joked, getting into bed beside him.

Once you were comfortable enough, you reached over him to turn off the lamp and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Night."

"Dulces suenos mi amor." he whispered. (sweet dreams my love)

You smiled at the endearing words and laid against him with closed eyes, falling asleep.

The night went by and in the morning, you awoke to an empty bed. Confused, you sat up and yawned as you glanced around the room.

Did he leave? He wouldn’t really leave without saying bye?

“Leo?” you croaked, your morning voice raspy.

No response.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and to your bathroom, giving yourself a few minutes to freshen up. When you finished, you shuffled out of bathroom and passed though your room, making a direct path to your kitchen.

On your way there, you glanced at the door and frowned at the empty space where your boyfriends bags were placed not even ten hours ago.

Letting out a breath you moved around the kitchen, preparing an easy breakfast until the sound of your front door slammed shut.

“Hey. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” Leo said, a bit out of breath.

You turned around and smiled. “That would’ve sucked."

He chuckled and rested his hands on your waist. "Don't miss me too much. I'll be back home before you know it."

"No, you won't. You have a cup to win."

Leo pressed a short kiss against your lips. "I love you."

"Love you too. Call me when you can."

"I will."

The distant sound of a car honking from outside caused him to groan.

Sighing, you gave him one last kiss. "Go. Make me proud."

He said nothing more, squeezing your waist before turning on his heel. You remained against the counter and waited to hear the front door click shut.

You were honestly disappointed that you wouldn't be there for his games, seeing that your job was incredibly demanding. Even if you tried, every ticket for the games was sold and every hotel was booked. There was no way around it. Unless you got some help.

Abandoning your breakfast, you went looking for your phone, thinking of the person you’d call.

It didn't take long to find since you left it on your sofa. Grabbing it, you unlocked and swiped through your contacts until you found the person you were looking for.

You found the name of your boyfriends teammate and closet friend and clicked, waiting for it to ring.

It only took a moment for it to ring until he picked up.

"Hola Y/n! Como estas?"

You blanked and went back to your high school Spanish and smiled. "Bien! Look, I need a favor."

"For my best friends girlfriend? Anything."

-

You waited as the phone rang on speakerphone, blowing on your wet nails.

"Bebé?"

Shooting up, you grabbed your phone, briefly forgetting about your nails.

"Congratulations! You did amazing!"

He laughed on the other end of the line. Argentina had just beaten Croatia 3-1, Lionel scoring once and Julian scoring twice.

"That goal was for you."

You laughed to yourself and stuck out your free hand to examine the dark red you chose for the winter. "It was very impressive. I followed the whole thing live."

"You know what would be even more impressive?” he asked.

"Hm?"

"If you actually came to a game and watched me. You know, so you don't have to worry about the livestream buffing or anything."

You lightly sighed. "Leo.."

He huffed. "It was just a suggestion. You know, kind of solidifying-"

"Yes, our relationship.” you interrupted. “We've been over this."

"Yeah but it's like you're scared."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. "I'm not scared, I just.. I'm not ready."

You couldn't see but your boyfriend on the other end of the line, all the way in Qatar had his hand through his hair as he paced around the locker room, obviously annoyed.

"It was only a suggestion. And what do mean ‘not ready?’ What are you not ready for, what are you scared of?”

The end went silent and you gave yourself a second before smiling to yourself. "Goodnight honey. And congratulations, once again."

Lionel dragged his free hand down his face with a sigh. "Carino,"

"Goodnight." you repeated, adding extra emphasis on the word.

You heard him sigh and before he could mutter an apology, you spoke up. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Hanging up, you tossed your phone aside, glancing at your packed bags by the door.

Little did he know, in just a few hours, you'd be on a plane to Qatar, just to see him play the final.

No one knew except for Ángel, a close friend of Leo's and yours. He helped you with everything, a place to stay for your brief stint in Qatar along with good seating.

You were excited. A little bit nervous, but excited nonetheless.

-

The minute you entered the stadium, you only needed to flash a badge and you were almost immediately escorted to the seats where the players' family and friends were. It was crowded seeing that you got there near the end of the first half and it was 2-0. Leo put it in the net at at the twenty-third minute and Ángel scored at the thirty-sixth minute, a moment you enjoyed watching on the way to the stadium.

You thanked the man who escorted you to the proper row and saw one open seat. Next to his mother.

Smiling, you excused the people you had to pass in front of and sat down beside her.

Celia tore her eyes from the match for a second to see who sat beside her and when she did, her hands flew to her face.

“¡Mi niña hermosa! You came!” (my beautiful girl)

“I did!” you exclaimed, pulling her into a side hug.

The woman shifted in her seat to face you and pulled you away with a large smile. “Does he know you’re here?”

With a shake of your head, you held her arm tightly. “No, it’s a surprise! I’m gonna see him after the match.”

Celia pulled a hand away from you and rested it on her chest. “He’s gonna love this. You know he’s crazy in love with you, right?”

You laughed to yourself, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah?”

The older woman’s smile never left her face and she nodded, turning her focus back to the game. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I saw a ring on your finger.”

“Aha.”

She winked and you couldn’t stop smiling at her words as you turned to the pitch, mulling over her words.

-

The minute the whistle for half time blew, it was like the entire crowd was on needles.

So far, Argentina was the one with points on the board and to you, this looked like an easy sweep.

In the wait, you headed to the restroom and when you returned, you chatted with your boyfriends family who were all incredibly happy to see you.

While you were chatting and catching up with his family, Leo on the other hand was a mess in the dressing room.

After he gave a pep talk to the team, he went to his respective spot and sulked. No one seemed to notice except for Ángel.

Hermano mío, ¿qué pasa?” the man asked (my brother what’s wrong?)

Lionel sighed. “Ella no es,” he paused for a minute before shrugging in defeat. “Ella no está aquí.” (she’s not- she’s not here)

Ángel turned his teammate around. “¿Está seguro?” (are you sure?)

Leo nodded. “Sí. No pude verla cuando salimos del campo.” (yes. i couldn’t see her when we left the pitch)

His friend said nothing. There was no way you didn’t show. Ángel had just texted you before the game to make sure you were coming and you confirmed. Hell, you even sent a ridiculous selfie of you at the airport in Qatar giving a thumbs up.

Lionel frowned at his friends silence and rolled his eyes. “Lo que sea. No importa. Tenemos un juego que ganar.” (whatever. it doesn’t matter. we have a game to win)

His friend said nothing and nodded and the team manager whistled.

“¡Vamos! ¡Vamos por la copa!” (let’s go! let’s go get the cup)

Cheers erupted from the group of men as they all clapped each others shoulders and passed words of encouragement as they filed out of the dressing room.

The two teams walked onto the pitch and the whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half.

The second half of the game was nearly a heart attack waiting to happen. It was nearly deadlocked the entire time and it felt like every sudden move was a make or break.

You watched with focused eyes as the players on the field moved back and forth. Whistles were blown, obvious insults were traded and the players seemed agitated and on edge, especially the ones who played for France.

At the eightieth minute, Kylian Mbappe, one of your husbands club teammates found the net. You groaned and you were even more surprised when he netted the ball not even a minute later.

The game soon went into overtime and you were nearly silent the entire time, not uttering a word to anyone, just focused on the game, praying for a good outcome.

It was at the one hundredth and eighth minute Lionel finds the ball and puts it in the net. Screaming, you stood to your feet and hugging his mother who also standing.

The two of you cheered and jumped around in pure joy.

As the game went on, substitutions happened and yellow cards were given. It wasn’t until later when the scored was equalized again, thanks to Kylian.

Your eyes found your boyfriend who looked on edge. It wasn’t like him and you watched as his jaw clenched before sighing. You just knew going back to club football wasn’t going to be a walk in the park with those two.

The extra time runs out and the game soon goes to penalties and you were literally on the edge of your seat, your body shaking with anticipation.

France took the first kick, Kylian bringing it home.

Argentina was next and you barely cheered as Lionel made the shot. You were too focused.

France’s Conan missed and Dybala scored for Argentina. Tchouaméni misses for France and Argentina’s Paredes scored.

You took a deep breath and exhaled as you eyes Muani take Frances’ fourth penalty. It’s almost silent as he preps to take the shot and when he does, the ball goes in.

A mix of cheers and groans erupt all around the stadium and your heart pounds even faster. Celia grabs your hand tightly and you glance at her. She glances back before focusing back on the pitch.

You let out a low whistle and watch in anticipation as the Gonzalo Montiel prepares himself for the pitch. It’s like everyone’s on pins and Celia grips your hand even tighter, causing you to wince.

Montiel lets out a breath before taking the shot. You held your breath as you watched and it was like everything was moving in slow motion. When the ball hit the net, the blood rushed to you ears as you let out a scream that was immediately drowned out by everyone else in the stadium.

Celia stands to her feet, picking you up with her as she hugs you tight, her face wet with tears. You hug her back and to your own surprise, you’re crying as well.

After minutes in each others arms, Celia pulls away from you and rests her hands on your cheeks, shaking your face with excitement before letting go and turning to her husband.

His other family members around you embrace you tightly and when they release you, you’re watching the man you love on his knees with tears in his eyes, a smile never leaving his face.

Your thoughts circle back to his mothers words to you and you smile to yourself until Celia grabs your hands.

“¡Vamos a verlo!” she exclaims, dragging out of the row and down to the pitch. (let’s go see him)

You nod and let the older woman lead you down as you take in the energy and reactions of the crowd.

Almost everyone sporting some sort of Argentinean merch are either crying or screaming with joy. The entire way to the pitch was blur and when you felt the grass underneath your shoes, you sighed and took it all in.

“Do you want to see him now or do you want to keep it a surprise?”

You glanced at her with a smile. “You go first. Go congratulate your son.”

Her face softened and squeezed your hand before running to her son. You watched as she grabbed his arm and he turned around in shock.

The man smiled and wrapped his arms around his mother, making your heart melt. Celia pulls her sons head down as he walks her away from the commotion on the pitch.

You shove your hands in your pocket and watch as he suddenly straightens. He cocks his head and points to the ground, saying something to his mom. She nods and he begins to look around frantically.

“Leo!” you call out.

He immediately recognizes your voice and turns around, seeking for you.

Taking a few steps his way, you pull your hands out of your pocket and cup them around your mouth. “Lionel!”

His eyes continued to search until his mother turns him around in your direction.

When he turned and saw you steps away, his eyes widened. Looking at his mother, he looks your way again, earning a nudge from the older woman.

“Go.” she nodded with a warm smile.

He says nothing and smiles, letting go of his mother. He began to walk to you, slowly at first before breaking into a full spirit towards you.

Naturally, many cameras followed him and documented the sight of him quite literally jumping into your arms.

You stumbled back and wrapped your arms tightly around him before he fell to his knees, consequently bringing you down with him.

With the both of you kneeling in the grass, Leo slightly shook in your arms, his emotions taking over him all at once.

“I can’t believe it,” he sobbed. “you actually came.”

You nodded and held him tighter. “Yes honey, I’m here.”

He said nothing and continued to cry in your arms, bringing forth a multitude of cameras. Normally you would’ve told them to go away but this was too precious of a moment to let a few cameras ruin.

Pulling away from him, you cupped his face and brought him close, your forehead touching his.

“Congratulations. You played fucking amazing.” you whispered with a smile.

Lionel smiled, mumbling a thank you before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. "How'd you get here- the seats, my mom-"

"I had some help."

He shook his head with a laugh. "From who?"

"Your friend. Your hermano." you teased.

Turning to look for his friend, you both were caught by surprise by a camera being shoved in both of your faces along with a microphone and an all too eager reporter.

"Lionel Messi, World Cup winner!" he grinned. "First, let me extend my congratulations."

Leo nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course! And you, Y/n L/n, famous model, queen of the runway. What brings you here and if you don't mind, what is Lionel Messi, the new World Cup winner to you?"

You and Leo shared a look before he stood to his feet and helping you up. Once you both were standing side by side, you rested a hand on his chest.

"This man here is the love of my life. My boyfriend."

Lionel's eyes widened and he glanced at you, his eyes dampening once more.

By now, more cameras were surrounding you and the original reporter looked incredibly pleased. "That's some news! For how long?"

You lightly nudged your boyfriends who answered the question. "A little more than a year, next month makes two years."

"So are we expecting a ring soon?" one reporter asked.

A chorus of mumbles erupted around the two of you, causing you to shyly turn into your boyfriends chest with a laugh. Lionel caught on and chuckled, walking the two of you away from the cluster of reporters.

"So this makes us official?" he joked.

You rolled your eyes and pulled him close for a kiss. "Go get your award."

He glanced over his shoulder to see the platform being set and turned back to you with a grin.

"Again," you spoke up. "congratulations."

"Lo hice por ti." he whispered with a teary smile. (i did it for you)

You mulled over his words and slightly shook your head. "Get up there."

Kissing your check, he gave your hand one last squeeze before jogging over to his teammates.

You stood there watching him with receive hugs from his mates with the biggest smile on your face, paying no mind to the few cameras catching your smile as you watched.

After the ceremony, Leo brought the trophy to you and you shook your head.

"No, Leo, don't." you warned.

He held it out to you. "Just for the pictures carino."

You glanced around. "No, it's a family thing, I can't."

Your boyfriend scoffed and lightly pushed the coveted cup in your hands and smiled. You smiled as well and after a few flashes you gave it back to him but of course, photo ops were never finshed.

He led you around the pitch, stopping for photos and interviews all with his arm around you.

He managed to get the pair of you away from everything and the two of you made your rounds, walking around the pitch..

"Te amo mucho." he said, kissing your cheek. "Mas que cualquier otra cosa en el mundo." (i love you so much. more than anything else in the world)

The sweet words made you grin and you squeezed his hand.

"Te amo." you replied.

He laughed at the way the words came out of your mouth. Even with almost two years of being together, your Spanish was awful.

"Expect a ring in your future soon."

You stopped and your mouth dropped. "Leo."

He stopped beside you and nodded. "Serious."

With a scoff, you continued walking. He walked up beside you and held your hand, fingers intertwining with yours.

"You're funny." you said with a laugh.

He chuckled and said nothing, keeping tight lipped about the ring he already showed his mother just days before.

The two of you continued to walk hand in hand, in silence and peace until it was time to go back to the hotel.

Once inside, he helped you move your stuff to his room which was only doors down, thanks to Ángel. The two of you showered together and once you were in bed, you quickly fell asleep but he couldn't.

Lionel was over the moon. His life was everything he ever dreamed of. He finally won the one thing in his career that really mattered and all with the love of his life watching. He couldn’t even close his eyes as he laid back with a silly smile on his face.

Because you showed up.

-

argh i hate ending things

expect a cheesy, sappy, romcom fic soon

me rn laying in bed being miserable bc i just made a 94 on a test instead of a 100

me when im not at the top of my class

paige bueckers x gf!reader texts pt.3

everytime a thought pops into my head or i get bored i make these idk. anyway yes this is me distracting everyone from the fact that i still haven’t updated mission jealousy

ghost comes home

the 141 needs a place to sleep for the night and your house happens to be here. (simon introduces his secret wife to the task force, and it gets steamy after)

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

ghost trudged up the hill, already regretting his decision. the 141 needed a place to lay low for the night, and of course they happened to be a mile from your remote summer home. he had a feeling you’d be there too, and here he was bringing four killing machines to your door in the middle of your summer vacation.

they had stopped before the door, and soap was itching with curiosity. it was a cozy lake house, two stories tall and perfect for a small family. there was a car in the driveway and the front porch lights were on, but he didn’t have any clue as to what, or who, awaited them inside. even though ghost had his mask on, soap could still sense how reluctant he looked. “don’t ask questions. come here.” ghost led them around the house to a small shed, wood on the outside but surprisingly modern on the inside. he opened up a military standard weapons storage unit and pointed at it. “every single gun, knife, grenade, weapon. in here.” price had started removing his weaponry but gaz and soap did a double take. “l.t. you’re saying go completely weaponless? what if-“ “if you can’t defend yourself with your bare hands that’s your problem, not mine. if you want to sleep outside, go ahead.” ghost said definitively. gaz and soap complied, and soon the group looked a lot closer to four guys on a camping trip than a ruthless task force. they went to the front of the house again, and ghost pulled out a key. “don’t make noise, don’t touch anything, don’t sit. the lights are going to be off. shoes off at the door.” the anxiety was getting to soap, he had no clue where they were but with how protective ghost seemed, he had a feeling he was going to know a lot more about his l.t. soon.

ghost opened the door, instantly greeted with the after smell of those lavender candles you always lit. it was dark except for the lowlights he had installed last june so that you could see when you came downstairs at midnight for a snack. he saw your books on the breakfast table and your slippers in the living room, the comforting feeling of home covering him like a warm blanket. he took his shoes off and walked quietly to the stairs, knowing every squeak and how to avoid them. a door upstairs opened and he swore underneath his breath, not wanting to wake you until the morning, but of course you’d seen his location and wanted to say hello.

it was midnight, and you had just finished a particularly smutty chapter in your romance book when you got the notification that the door had been opened. you checked simon’s location and of course it was him. you flung of the covers and opened your door, greeted with a silent house except for the sounds of fabric moving. you looked down the stairs and there he was, skull mask shining in the moonlight. you rushed down the stairs and jumped into his arms, reveling in the feeling of home. “hi si.” you said breathlessly, legs tightening around his waist. “hi, dove. did i wake you?” you pulled up his mask for a long kiss, heart beating finally finally. “no, i was reading.” “aye, one of those dirty romance books, hm?” you giggled as he knew you so well. “maybe so. you’ll just have to come upstairs and…” you trailed off, having looked over his shoulder into the living room where three giant men stood awkwardly. you climbed out of his arms (simon huffed), intrigued by the situation at hand. “you brought company?” you turned on the lights to reveal the three strangers.

soap blinked and couldn’t believe his eyes. there was his l.t., a 6’4 killer on the battlefield, with his mask half up his chin, hand around your waist, and love in his eyes. and of course, there was you. you didn’t seem nervous to have three intimidating men in your living room, if anything you looked excited. you seemed molded to ghost, your movement reflecting each other for maximum physical contact at all times. quickly, you pulled down ghost’s mask so the team didn’t have the chance to glimpse his face. you moved forward with a small smile, head cocking as you analyzed the men in front of you. “dove, this is-“ “the 141. i’ve heard a lot about you. didn’t expect to meet you all in my pajamas.”

“you’re much better looking than us anyways.” soap replied, diffusing the tension. he didn’t miss how ghost’s hand tightened on your waist and his eyes narrowed. this was going to be fun.

“well it’s lovely to meet you all, though i’m not sure why it’s right now. i’m -“ “mrs. riley.” ghost cut in. “you will address her as such.” you smacked his chest playfully as he looked down at you, eyes switching from cold protectiveness to endearment. “nonsense. you can call me by my name.” you said, extending your hand to price. “you must be captain price. and you’re wearing your hat!” the greetings continued in a similar fashion as you remarked upon everyone’s unique physical indicators, known from simon’s constant stories about the group. after realizing the military was in fact in your living room, a slight tension curled up your spine. simon noticed immediately, of course, and turned you both around, giving you a sense of relief. “guns in the house?” you whispered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. that was the one requirement you had. “never, love. they’re in the shed.” you relaxed instantly. “okay, they can stay. are you staying?” your thumb laid over his hand, tracing the veins you had memorized thousands of times before. “you’ve got me for one night. transport comes at noon tomorrow. you sure you’re okay with this? we can camp outside. just happened to be near the house and needed a place to sleep.” “of course i’m okay with it, si. i trust you. and now i have you for one night.” you ended with a smirk, knowing your husband would not get a lick of sleep tonight. “we have two guest bedrooms, so you’ll have to share.” you announced, turning back to the group. “i’ll go ready the rooms.” simon whispered into your ear, squeezing your waist once before going upstairs. he didn’t want to leave you alone but he trusted his men, and didn’t want you to work more than you had to. he never did.

“well,” you plopped down in your favorite chair, the men still standing awkwardly. “sit down. we’ve got about five minutes to answer your questions before my husband whisks me away for the night.” soap sat down eagerly, bouncing with energy as he readied all his questions. gaz took in the scene before him, and only had one burning question. “captain, why aren’t you surprised?” price turned to him with a small smile, taking his hat off out of respect. you answered for him. “john and i have talked before, just never in person. there’s a lot of paperwork to do when you want to marry a ghost who’s in a secret task force.” you played with your ring finger unconsciously, and though your ring was off as you had been preparing for sleep, they could all see the tan outline on your fingers. “i’ve known about mrs. riley here for a while, but her existence is the only thing ghost told me.” price added in. he was big on respect, but even he was excited to meet ghost’s secret wife. the one who has extended secret protection whenever he was deployed, the one whose ring he wore next to his dog tags. 

“i think you want to rapid fire interrogate.” you said with a smile, turning to soap. “let’s do it”.

“where’d you meet?”

“manchester.”

“how?”

“i spilled my drink on him in a cafe. might have been on purpose to get him to talk to me.”

“you’re the perfect lass for him. how long have you been together?”

“four together, two married.”

they all exhaled a breath at that. for four years, ghost had been carrying a secret. with his past, or as much as he told them, they knew why, but it was still a blow.

“he loves you guys. he wanted to tell you all, we’d been planning it. just not like this. he kind of hoped someone would notice the ring on his dog tags and bring it up, but i had a feeling you all were a bit scared of him.” you could sense the tension and wanted to show simon’s thinking process to them as much as you could without spilling his secrets. with his past, he had been so worried about you being in danger. it was one of your agreements that he’d tell them in his time, and never before.

“what do you do?”

“i’m an author, hence the books.”

there were books everywhere. the shelves, the tables, the floor. in fact, with the lights on, soap now noticed a small ball of fur cuddled with a book under the coffee table.

“did ghost build this place?”

“basically. it was a fixer-upper. he gave it to me for our honeymoon and he’s been working on it ever since. it’s my getaway when i want to write.” soap spotted ghost coming down the stairs, and wanted to make the last question less personal, just in case.

“how do you deal with the bad jokes?” you opened your mouth to reply, but simon’s hand rested on your shoulder and you closed it. “enough. your rooms are ready.” simon said in a gruff voice, wanting to be alone with his wife already. you knew what that tone meant, and you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. you guided the men to their rooms, gaz and soap splitting one, making sure they had everything they needed. then finally, finally, you went into your room with simon and locked the door.

“hi again.” you said shyly as he gathered you into his arms. “you good? overwhelmed?” he asked, knowing he had intruded on your solitude without warning. “i should be asking you that. are you okay?” you guided him to your bed, sitting him down on the edge. he sighed, and you slowly pulled off his mask, giving him time to stop you. with his face finally revealed, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, moaning at the taste of your husband. “i’ve missed you.” simon finally said, avoiding your last question. “me too.” you kissed his forehead, his hairline, trailing down to his cheeks and chin. reverent. it had been two months, not the longest you’ve gone without him, but still you never got used to the time alone. his hand twitched as he showed the number three with his fingers. a while ago, you had a long conversation about showing your emotions. when either of you were too overwhelmed, you used your hands to show it. one meant needing alone time, two meant panic attack, and three meant being together and moving to a different subject. you gave him a small smile, running your hands through his hair, shorter now that he was deployed. “let me make you feel good.” you whispered, and he nodded, putting his trust in you easily.

you unclipped his gear, slowly, surely. slipping off his vest, guiding his arms. you slid off his gloves one by one. simon loved how you treated him delicately, so different from his life in the military. there were no threats, no enemies to think about, just you and him in this quiet room. he’d soundproofed it last year after the incident with your parents, so there were no worries about disturbing his teammates. with his gear off, you took off his shirt, bringing it over his head and throwing it into the corner. his scars were fully visible, and you kissed each one with pleasure. “let” kiss “me” kiss “make” kiss “you” kiss “feel” kiss “good” kiss. he was slowly coming back to his body, the overwhelmed feeling disappearing with your love and affection. “yeah, love? gonna make me come?” he grinned, pushing the hair out of your face as you lowered yourself to his crotch. 

he helped you take off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxers while you were still fully clothed, the contrast making him hard. you breathed over his hardness, a contrast to the cool ac. he gathered your hair in one fist, giving him a full view of you hungrily looking at his cock. “take it out.” he ordered, and you complied, untucking him from his boxers. “i’m glad you introduced me to everyone today. you did so well.” you said, your words warming his heart. he liked praise, sometimes, and you were trying to make this as good as possible, not knowing when you’d see him next. “had to make sure they knew my wife who sucks my cock so well.” he replied. “you gonna actually suck it, or you just gonna kneel there, looking so pretty on your knees?” you chuckled at his words. slowly, you licked him from base to tip, satisfied with the groan he gave you in return. “spit” you said, offering him your hand. he complied, and you brought it down back to his cock, working your hand up and down. you started with kitten licks, feeling him jerk in your hands at every touch. wetness pooled in your pajama shorts, and you shifted, letting the seam of the fabric work at your aching clit. “stop teasing or i-” he stopped with a moan as you put his entire length in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. you hummed and his cock twitched. you worked your mouth up and down, using your hand when you couldn’t go all the way. seeing him undone was turning you on as you shifted on your knees, letting your shorts work your clit. you swirled your tongue around his tip and went back down, your other hand gripping his balls with a short squeeze. 

he bucked into you, and you knew he was close as he started fucking your face. he reached the back of your mouth and tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t make him stop. your hand left his balls and went down to your clit, pushing your palm against it to find the friction you were chasing. “does getting your face fucked turn you on, dove? my little wife?” you whimpered and he moaned, pulling you closer to his cock. “gonna come on your face, open up.” he withdrew, sticky strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you put your hand back on it and stroked, ropes of cum landing on your face and neck. your tongue darted out to taste him and he groaned, laying down fully on the bed. “that was so good, lovie. you did so well, come ‘ere.” you climbed on top of him, thighs messy with your own wetness. “need you inside me, si. need to come.” you stripped off your shirt and shorts, tits bouncing in his face. he took your nipple in his mouth and you groaned, hands pushing against the headboard to keep yourself upright. simon’s hands came to your hips, sitting you down with his half-hard cock against your ass. “give me a second.” he said in a raspy voice. “okay, old man.” you replied cheekily. he slapped your ass and you giggled. laughter turned to moans as his hand slid down, putting two fingers inside you. “look at you, so greedy for my cock. have you been fucking yourself with the toys i got you?” his other hand tweaked your nipple, a bit of pain in a rush of pleasure. “i have, thinking of you. been missing your cock.” his thumb circled your clit just the way you liked it as his other hand went up from your nipple, choking you. “show me.” he withdrew his fingers and you whimpered as he licked them. you shifted backwards, impaling yourself on him. “si, its too much.” you had forgotten how big he was, and you felt so full, stuffed with his cock. “you can take it, wife.” you both sat there for a minute, letting your leaking cunt adjust to his cock. his hands massaged your nipples, getting you wetter and wetter. “wait, i have a surprise for you.” you leaned over to your bedside table, still full of simon, and pulled out a small box. simon sat up a bit and opened it, smirking as he took in the contents. he withdrew the gold clamps, setting the box aside. his hand grasped your left tit as he sucked it slightly, then withdrew. he opened the clamp and closed it around your hard nipple, an electric shock of pain running through your system. “you like wearing jewelry for me, hm? looking pretty, all stuffed with my cock while the boys are sound asleep next door. wonder if they’re thinking about you, wife.” you gasped, images of being shared with simon’s teammates running through your mind. you had had threesomes with simon before, but never with that many participants. while you were distracted, he closed the clamp around your other nipple. he tugged on the chain connecting them, bringing your mind back to him. “they wouldn’t fuck you like this, though. won’t get you dripping after they fuck your face.” his hips started moving upwards now that you were adjusted to his length, hands resting on your hips. with the feeling of the clamps, his dirty talk, and your stimulated clit, you were right on the edge. “si, i’m gonna come. please let me come.” his hand moved from your hip to your clit. “come for me, dove.” you shattered with a moan, glad for the soundproofed walls. your thighs trembled as you sat back down on his cock, and simon could feel you weakening. 

he flipped you both over, staying inside you, and started fucking into you with abandon. his hand slipped under your head to protect it from hitting the headboard as he got rougher and rougher. your tits bounced, the clamps holding steady with every thrust. your hands came around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “my husband.” you groaned, never tiring of calling him that. your hands scratched his shoulders, urging him into you more and more. he changed the angle so he grinded against your pubic bone, and you could feel your second orgasm coming. “si, come with me. i want you inside.” he moaned into your shoulder, keeping the pace. “right there, love, im right there.” he panted, needing just a bit more. “fill me up, si. i’ll be making breakfast for the boys and they’ll see your cum running down my thighs. i’m yours.” you both came to that image as he pumped into you, making you leak with his cum. “fuck.” he collasped into you, holding off his weight as to not squish you. cock still inside, he removed the clamps, licking each nipple after. “did you think of me when you bought these?” he said, growling. “i got so horny i had to get off in the public bathroom right after. thinking of you the whole time.” you replied. “gonna make you wear these all the time now so your cunt is always ready for me.” he slipped out and you both sighed. 

he left and came back with a warm washcloth, cleaning you both up. you yawned, so tired from the night’s events, glad to have your husband home. simon turned off the lights and tucked you both in, ready to sleep with his love in his arms. “i’m home, dove.” he whispered, kissing your forehead and tangling his feet with yours.

“i’m home.”

Sealed Their Fates

This is a new Tobias Eaton/ Four imagine for the Divergent fandom. I hope you will all like it, thank you for the amazing feedback on my first Four imagine.

Please let me know what you think.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: Everyone in Dauntless knows of (Y/n)'s relationship with Four, but some think that it gives her an unfair advantage. When they try and hurt (Y/n), she doesn't feel safe in her faction anymore.

Enjoy.

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Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tilted her head back when she felt a pair of arms encase around her middle. She let her head fall back onto a firm shoulder and her hands slid down to hold onto the wrists resting over her waist.

She didn't have to look to know who it was behind her. The arms around her were familiar, like a safety blanket. The firm chest that was now glued up against her back was a comfort like no other and the pair of lips that hovered over the shell of her ear were another familiar sense.

Tobias.

"Morning," His voice was gritty and low against her ear and (Y/n) slouched back against him a little more. Grinning to herself when she felt Tobias lean back too until his shoulders were pressed up against the stone wall behind them.

"Hi." It was getting routine to keep her voice quiet when they found little moments like these.

It wasn't necessarily a secret that the pair of them had found solace and comfort in each other.

Others had noticed the way that Four would smile towards (Y/n) whereas he would generally be cold and ruthless towards anyone else. They had seen him take her hand and interlock their fingers, and they noticed that Four wasn't the instructor who trained (Y/n). He wouldn't do that; he wouldn't train the girl he had fallen for, not when he knew people would turn against her and accuse him of giving her points and helping her stay in Dauntless.

That didn't mean to say that Tobias wouldn't help train her late into the night when no one else was around. And he would give her tips and pointers and tell her how to outsmart the others, but he wouldn't do any of that in public, and he certainly wouldn't go around giving her any points.

They didn't hide what they had, but they didn't display it either. Quiet moments together in the mornings like this and little interludes wherever they could was what they decided to do until (Y/n) made it as a fully fledged member of Dauntless.

"You okay?" Tobias kept his lips hovering over (Y/n)'s ear while his hand smoothed up and down (Y/n)'s sternum like he was drawing aimless patterns into her shirt.

She nodded to his words, nudging the tip of her nose against his neck before she angled her head better so she could lean over and kiss him. She liked the way his arms tightened around her, like he was making sure she stayed right where she was and didn't dare pull out of his embrace for a moment. And the feeling of his palms pressing down into her sternum and waist made butterflies swarm through her system.

Sometimes (Y/n) wished it could be like this all the time. She wished she could lean against Tobias or take his hand or walk around with him and no one would bat an eyelid or make a bad comment.

And maybe after the initiates were all chosen and blended into Dauntless, after the dust settled and there was no more competing to stay and for status, things would change. (Y/n) was sure they would. She was sure that things would settle down, that they would all find their own rooms after they were fully fledged members of the faction. They would partner off and find their best suited jobs and no one would care that (Y/n) and Tobias were together.

She just hoped that it wouldn't feel like a lifetime to get to that point.

It proved to be some effort to turn around in his tight embrace, but (Y/n) managed the small task and looped her arms around the back of his neck. Her fingers brushed against the short gazed hairs at the back of his head and she let her chest slouch into his chest, effectively pinning Tobias between her and the wall. Not that he minded at all, he seemed happy to be sandwiched up against her in the corridor. Especially since they were alone without any onlookers.

"What're you thinking?" Tobias's words were hushed and (Y/n) barely heard them when he spoke with his lips so close to hers that they were almost touching.

Their noses brushed and she could feel his temple resting against hers, but it was the feeling of those cold lips hovering less than a centimetre away from hers that made (Y/n)'s knees want to give in. She pushed up on her toes, keeping her chest merged with his as her arms tightened slightly around his neck and her eyes creased with a smile.

"Just that I can't wait for training to be over."

(Y/n) knew being in Dauntless meant endless training, they would never stop, per say. They would always be training and running and fighting and sharpening their skills. But at least they wouldn't be fighting against one another, they wouldn't be opposites anymore. They would all be working together as a group, a family, a faction. That was the goal and (Y/n) wanted to skip this tournament of sorts and be at that point.

She felt Tobias sigh down at her with that half smile pulling at his lips and one arched brow. He knew how she felt, he had never been worried about his training, he had beaten all others in his group, including Eric with no problems. But he was desperate now for (Y/n) to make it through this phase with no problems.

"Me too." His words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind and (Y/n) managed to catch a glimmer of a smile pulling on his lips before she moved one hand to cradle the side of his face.

Her fingers danced a pattern on his cheek and (Y/n) pressed another kiss too his lips, savouring the cold touch and the feeling of Tobias tightening his hand around her hip. They didn't have long before they would have to go. They needed to go to the training room and begin their day, and that meant the start of the rest of the day without being too close to one another.

Another hint of a smile traced over Tobias's lips when he felt (Y/n) murmur "I'm not ready," against his mouth that was savouring her touch and stealing as many elicit kisses as he could manage.

His nose pressed against hers and his lips felt positively bruised in the best way when they finally parted. He allowed himself to lean his cheek into her palm that was cradling his face and shivers coursed up and down his skin from her touch.

"There aren't any fights scheduled for today, just remember what I taught you in training, and you'll be fine."

There was something about the coy grin that lit up (Y/n)'s face which made Tobias intrigued. He arched a brow and squinted down at her, wondering why that look had suddenly flooded her eyes and why she had such a grin all of a sudden.

"Hm, I might need a refresher course on that training."

"Oh really?" He couldn't help but laugh and he kept his cheek leaning into her palm which thankfully hadn't moved away from his face yet. He quite liked the touch. "We'll have to train later then to remind you, won't we?"

It wasn't wrong, not technically when anyone could ask for help with training and anyone could put the hours in to do more. (Y/n) wanted to do better, she wanted to have a better shot at staying in Dauntless and doing the best she possibly could, and Tobias was giving her hints. He watched her practice and told her what she could do to improve. He helped her straighten her frame and improve her throw and taut her how to duck and punch better.

It was the same hints and pointers that he gave to anyone he was instructing, it just happened to be late on in the evening when everyone else gave up to rest.

"Suppose we'd better go." Surprise flooded through (Y/n) when Tobias leaned down to snag another kiss from her lips and he pushed off the wall until he was practically pushing down onto her instead.

Neither of them wanted to part and head off into the training area, into the room that would be flooded with the rest of their faction. But they didn't have much of a choice. This was their faction and they had to make themselves useful, after all.

It was comforting to feel Tobias slip his hand into hers and the feeling of his fingers tapping against the back of her hand was comforting.

When he stood- or rather towered- beside her it felt like (Y/n) had a protective armor around her. The way his shoulder brushed against hers, how tense his arms felt, the sound of his leather boots hitting the stone floor, it was all dominating and overpowering in the best possible way.

It wasn't until they actually reached the training room that the aura seemed to change and (Y/n) felt like she was three inches tall. She barely felt Tobias give her hand a squeeze like he was trying to give her some of his courage.

Eyes were upon them immediately. Some just glances, some long stares and some with pits of jealousy that (Y/n) could feel burning through her skin.

She wanted to shrink in on herself and become invisible, but that wasn't what a Dauntless would do and she didn't have to feel this way.

She felt Tobias give her hand another squeeze so tight he almost cut off the circulation to her fingers. And he leaned down to murmur "Good luck," in her ear because he knew training was as hard and draining as it was rewarding. And with his head angled down, he managed to press a kiss to the back of her head without anyone noticing.

The moment his hand slipped from hers and (Y/n) heard his footsteps retreating, she suddenly felt cold. But she tried to brush it off, shaking the feeling away as she rolled her shoulders and clicked her neck into place.

She wanted to work on her throwing and her aim today, especially since there weren't any fights lined up so there was no imposing need to work on her punches and her balance.

She took a deep breath, sinking her teeth down into her bottom lip when she approached the targets and noticed a few of the other initiates hovering around. One of them happened to be Peter. (Y/n) wasn't sure why, but he had taken an instant disliking to her. He liked to make jibes and jokes and play the tormenter.

Nothing to serious which (Y/n) suspected was because he got his fair share of irritating and pushing her buttons when they were paired up to fight.

"Where's your loverboy, stiff?" Peter clasped his hands behind his back and took a look around but he missed Tobias who mingled in with the other initiates near the climbing ropes in the far corner.

"Where's your girlfriend, Pete?"

(Y/n) didn't bother looking up at him as she spoke. He could be as crude and annoying as he wanted, she would simply respond and annoy him back until he stopped. He could try and make jokes about her relationship with Tobias as much as he liked, (Y/n) would just make jokes about his love life in response, or lack there of.

Her words made his smile slip into a frown and he looked down at his hands for a moment, clearly irritated that she had quipped back at him so fast.

"Suppose I should fine one soon, preferably an instructor. After all, you got in there quick and ranked up your points." His head ticked towards the scoreboard which showed (Y/n) was two places higher up than Peter. Both of them were in the clear, they weren't in the red on the verge of being factionless, but that could all change. They all knew the scoreboard was changing daily with people improving and slipping all the time.

(Y/n) swiped a pack of four knives up from the table and moved towards a target, taking aim and throwing a knife dead centre into the targets middle where the heart would be.

"Then you'd better hurry Pete. From what I saw, I don't think many girls in here would be pleased with the little you have to offer." She didn't bother to look at him as she spoke. She was only trying to level the playing field and irritate him in the same way he was doing to her.

She threw another knife, but this one didn't hit anywhere on the target when Peter roughly barged his shoulder into her side and knocked her forwards.

A huff escaped her lips and she shook her head to herself, but when she glanced her eyes to the right, they locked on Tobias. His features were ever the same, blank and fierce, warding people to stay away from him and not to bother even trying to strike up a conversation.

But his hands- which were now wrapped in tape around the knuckles, ready for both fighting and climbing the ropes- were balled into fists at his sides. He turned away from the wall and took three strides in (Y/n)'s direction before he stopped.

She shook her head.

He didn't need to do anything. As annoying as Peter was, he was only making jibes, he hadn't done anything that warranted Tobias coming over and giving him the third degree. (Y/n) would rather ignore Peter than have her partner come over and try to sort it for her. She knew he meant well and she knew Tobias would threaten Peter to stay in line like he did with everyone else, but it would be easier to let this one go than to make a fuss.

Tobias took a deep breath, letting his eyes linger on (Y/n) for a few seconds longer as he nodded at her and stepped back. She could hold her own, he knew that, but he didn't want Peter to think he could keep stepping out of line and being rude and get away with it.

If any of the initiates started fights or casting others out when they weren't in the ring, the instructors put a stop to it. Competition was fine as long as it was healthy and in good faith. If Peter really belonged in Dauntless than he had nothing to fear, and no reason to be picking on (Y/n) or anyone else.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on Tobias even after he turned and aimed for the rope again which he wasted no time in climbing like he was desperate to get away from everyone else.

She twirled the knife in her hand between her fingers as she watched him, letting herself relax and bask in the aura Tobias exuded, even from across the room.

Roll on phase two when all the competition would be over.

***

A slight sting burned in (Y/n)'s knuckles and she wrung her hands out at her sides, trying to shake away the dull sting and get the feeling back in her fingers. Most of the day had been spent fighting and (Y/n) could feel the bruises that were no doubt blossoming on her skin beneath her clothes.

Her knuckles had split open, grazes littered her hands and her fingers were practically on fire. She had fought against Peter today, curtesy of Eric who had noticed the pair arguing and getting annoyed with each other and thought a fight between them would air out the tension.

It hadn't.

Peter seemed to lose himself when he lost. (Y/n) had barely managed to win, but when she got Peter in a choke hold and made him blackout, he didn't have a choice but to back out of the fight. He physically couldn't get up and it took him too long to regain his breath back, so Eric called (Y/n) the winner and that was that.

He had stormed off in a rage, kicking anything and everything within sight and cradling his sore neck that had been inflamed red and would be littered with bruises and marks in the morning.

(Y/n) had done her best to stay out of his way since this morning and she was ready to sleep.

She didn't want to bother with any extra training tonight, her hands were too sore and she was too tired. Getting some rest would be a better idea than working herself to the bone and being run down tomorrow. Eric might try and pit her against someone else in a fight tomorrow and (Y/n) would need her energy for that.

Her hand rubbed at the back of her neck which she clicked into place as she slowly aimed down the corridor.

It was a long trek back towards the dorms and it was irritating to have to share a room with over twenty others, but it was only until they had passed. Once their training was over and the select few were included into Dauntless, they would each be able to get their own little apartment like the rest of the faction.

Thank God. (Y/n) was fed up sharing with others, fed up of hearing them snore and the beds creak and people getting up to use the toilet. She was fed up of getting up early to shower before everyone else and trying to change without people peering over to get a look.

Her own room would be a dream compared to what these last few weeks had been like.

All she wanted to do now was climb into her bed and disappear until the morning rolled around.

But as she turned from the corridor and headed towards the next hall, her hands clenched into fists and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She found herself stepping towards the wall as if it would provide some kind of safety when she saw who was walking down the hall towards her.

Peter. Followed swiftly by two of his cronies, and all three of them seemed to grin wider when they noticed her; and the fact that she was alone.

"Oh look, it's the stiff."

(Y/n) refrained from rolling her eyes, she didn't need to cause any arguments. It was late, she didn't want to stand around and berate each other when there was no need. He could go his own way and (Y/n) would aim for the dorms and they didn't need to have any interaction at all.

With her head ducked down, (Y/n) stuck close to the wall and tried to walk past them. She jabbed her elbow out to push Peter when he tried to get close. She didn't know what he was trying to do and she didn't want to know either, she just wanted to get away from him.

One of them, she wasn't sure which, tried to grab her wrist, but (Y/n) lashed out and slammed her heel against his inner leg which caused him to stumble.

"Just fuck off." She wasn't in the mood for a fight or an argument, she just wanted to go to sleep.

(Y/n) quickened her steps and veered down the hall with speed, praying that the three of them would just huff and carry on their way. And for a few seconds, she thought they had.

But then they grabbed her.

She hadn't heard them coming up behind her, not until it was too late. An arm deadlocked around her neck causing her to stumble backwards and her head slammed into a bony shoulder. A strangled sound escaped (Y/n)'s lips and she scratched her nails into the arm around her neck, about to lean forward so she could ram her elbow behind her. But her legs were swept from beneath her.

One of them snagged her ankles and heaved her legs up until it felt like she was about to fall down and slam her head into the ground.

A scream burst past her lips as much as she could with the arm pinned to her throat and her shoulders slid down the person's chest behind her until the third boy grappled to hold her waist.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes which slammed closed as she began to writhe. She didn't quite know what to do to get out of this situation, but (Y/n) did whatever she could think of. She wriggled, she thrust her torso down and tried to whip her legs up in the air so they'd let her go. She shimmied her shoulders, desperate not to land with a bang on her head or back in case she injured herself or knocked herself out.

"Let me go!"

Another scream left her lips and she dug her nails viciously into the arm over her chest, continuing to writhe as the three of them struggled to hurry with her down the corridor. This was clearly an act of opportunity. They hadn't been anticipating this, (Y/n) could tell they were acting in the heat of the moment.

She wouldn't tell. If they put her down and let her go, she wouldn't tell on them and get them dropped down the scoreboard. But she needed them to put her down.

It felt like her lungs had popped when she managed to slam her foot into Alan's chest who was grappling with her legs. He dropped her. As soon as he did, the other two couldn't hold her up on their own and (Y/n) went down to the stone floor with such a bang she feared she had left a crack in the floor. Her lungs struggled to restart themselves and she laid gasping like a fish out of water.

Her eyes stung as she struggled to hold back her tears that were more out of pain than fear. And her lungs startled once again when a rough hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back.

Her grazed hands scoured against the floor and her elbows straightened out as she tried to hold herself up while Peter yanked her head back so she was looking up at him. While he crouched down beside her, leaning so close he was sneering and almost spitting at her.

"You're putting out for him, that's why you're fifteen on the scoreboard."

Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s spine causing her arms to tremble as she tried to hold herself up properly. Her lips curled up into a grimace and she closed her eyes when Peter leaned closer to her.

"No-"

"Maybe she'll put out for us." Alan's words made a sliver of fright dwell in (Y/n)'s stomach and she snapped her eyes open to look up at him.

They couldn't be serious. They couldn't try anything, they wouldn't get away with it and all of them had to know that.

Peter's hand in her hair tightened into a closed fist and (Y/n) swallowed down a yelp when he used her hair as leverage to yank her up to her feet. She tried to grapple for his arm, desperate for him to let go, but she couldn't do very much when his other hand gripped her chin and another pair of hands closed around her arms.

They steered her forwards, yanking her from side to side and causing her to stumble in almost every direction. She did her best to elbow them, to wriggle and become a nuisance in the hopes that they would stop and let her go or get tired of having to fight against her.

"No! G-get off!" She wouldn't let them do anything and she wouldn't just stand and let them mess with her. They needed to stop.

"We don't wanna play with you, we wanna get rid of you." Those words hit right at the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach, especially when she realised they were now close to the casm.

Hovering along the small corridor that acted as a ledge towards the edge of the casm. (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to look over the edge, not once despite the countless times she had walked down here. She couldn't lean over and look at the hundred foot drop that would kill anyone who fell down. Merciless.

And now these boys were trying to force her near the edge.

The will to fight burned bright inside of (Y/n) and adrenaline shot through her veins like a high as she bent forward and thrust her elbows back, trying to whack them and wind any of them so she could break free.

She screamed like a lion roaring into the wilderness when the third boy, Garrett- someone she barely knew- grabbed her ankles and yanked, pulling until (Y/n) fell and her front hit the ground. He tried to lift her by the ankles and Peter nodded, laughing maliciously as he tried to grapple for (Y/n)'s shoulders to lift her up. They were going to try and get her over the edge.

Garrett couldn't lift her when (Y/n) rammed her foot into his face. She heard the successful sound of his nose snapping like a twig before he groaned and dropped her ankles, letting her knees slam into the floor which shook her entire being.

"Get her over-"

"No!" (Y/n) shrieked and lifted her arm, using all the force she had to scratch her nails down Peter's face. She tried not to squirm when she felt her finger prod him in the eye and she felt the skin raking beneath her nails as she scratched deep enough to draw blood and leave sizzling burn lines down his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

It was Eric. His voice boomed through the air and echoed off the stone walls like he was a God among mortals.

But it was enough. His voice was enough to make them let go of (Y/n) just as her head was hanging close to the edge. Her already bruised and split knuckles scraped along the floor, gathering grit and dirt as she shuffled on her stomach until she was backed up near the wall. Near safety.

Her knees tucked up towards her chest and her arms coiled in on herself as she slammed her right side against the wall, not caring about the shockwaves it sent through her system. She just wanted to be safe. She wanted to be away from the ledge she had almost been thrown over.

It took some effort for (Y/n) to lift her eyes from the floor to look up and take in the scene around her.

Eric was stood with his hands on his hips and a face like thunder. She had never seen such confusion in his eyes and such clear rage across his face.

And the others looked petrified. Peter's chest was heaving and he had one hand cradling his scratched, bloodied face while his other hand flexed and shook at his side. Garrett was cradling his broken nose, knelt on the floor rather close to the edge of the casm which (Y/n) desperately wanted to throw him off right now. And Alan was stood to one side, both arms bound around his chest as he gasped for air and heaved for breath.

None of them answered. None of them had the words to explain what they had been doing when it was crystal clear what their intentions had been. (Y/n) was screaming, they were bloodied and beaten and they were near the casm. Added with the fact that (Y/n) was petrified and openly crying, it was clear what the three of them had tried to do to her.

"You think killing an opponent will get you on top of the scoreboard? Faction is family, you don't hurt your own." Eric snapped his jaw like a crocodile towards them but the way he sighed made him look like an annoyed parent who was fed up with his kids.

They were in trouble. They would be at the bottom of the scoreboard for this. They could have healthy competition with each other. They could fight in the ring and get grumpy and be annoyed, but that was it. They couldn't take that anger out on each other when they weren't training. They couldn't purposely intimidate or beat or attack a fellow member of the faction. They were all family in the end and this wasn't how family treated each other.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

Her lungs were burning, her eyes were stinging and her face was sopping wet as tears flushed her skin that she couldn't be bothered to hide.

When Eric tried to reach his hand down for her, he seemed a little more than surprised when (Y/n) slapped his wrist away and shuffled back. She didn't want his help. She didn't want him touching her. She didn't want any of them touching her; she just wanted to get away.

Eric sighed and held his hands out at his sides like he had no idea what to do when (Y/n) scurried to her feet. He watched her with a sense of sadness as she used the wall as leverage and stumbled away from them. He had a feeling he knew exactly where she was going and he didn't blame her, she hadn't done anything wrong.

He would have to remember to go easy on her over the next few days, she had fought for her life tonight and that earned her some points on the scoreboard and some respect from him.

(Y/n) heard the distinct sound of a slap and it echoed off the walls almost like a gunshot would have resonated, but she didn't look back to see which of them Eric had lashed out at.

She didn't care.

She wanted all three of them to be thrown off that casm.

Gasps and stuttering breaths left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to swipe her sleeve against her eyes to clear her vision, but it didn't work very well. She still couldn't see where she was going, everything was a blur of grey and black with speckles of white in the mix.

She had to use her initiative and memory to guide her towards the stairs which she ended up crawling up like a toddler or some kind of deformed dog. Her body succumbed to trembling by the time she half jogged, half stumbled down the corridor towards Tobias's room.

It seemed rather like him to not bother locking the door, and (Y/n) was grateful. She was grateful that when she grabbed the handle and shimmied the door, it swung open like it had been expecting her all along.

Suddenly it didn't matter about calling out and alerting Tobias that she had found her way to his room and entered without knocking. All (Y/n) cared about was getting inside and staying away from everyone else; every possible source of danger and threat.

As soon as she was in the room, (Y/n) slammed the door closed behind her and fumbled to twist the lock to keep herself safe and secure.

Her eyes closed tightly until it became painful and her body slumped down to the cold floor that was soothing against her burning skin. She didn't bother trying to crawl into the room, she had no more energy left for that. (Y/n) shuffled back until she was against the wall and coiled her knees up to her chest.

Her trembling arms bound around her knees, locking them in place and her head dropped forward like her neck had snapped, slamming her temple onto her knees. She couldn't breathe as she began to rock back and forth, gasping, crying and heaving to gain a little bit of air.

"What the fuck-" Anger bubbled up in Tobias's voice when he heard the sound of his door slamming shut.

No one had knocked, no one had called out his name or asked if they could come in but clearly someone had waltzed straight in without an invitation. He didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't used to getting visitors to his room, barely anyone wanted to bump into him when walking around the buildings they claimed as Dauntless; why would someone come up to his room?

A deep frown set into his features as he wandered out the bathroom, jeans hung low on his waist and his shirt laid out on the bed which he didn't bother to grab in his haste to get to the door.

He didn't reach the door before all the anger dwindled out of his system and he was left with a wave of confusion and paranoia washing over him like the sea coming in across the sand.

"(Y/n)?" Her name fell from his lips in a hollow whisper as his brows furrowed and his lips curled into a grimace.

What had gone on since he saw her a few hours ago?

Tobias let himself scuff down to his knees on the floor once he was close enough to where (Y/n) was curled up beside the door. He shuffled closer until his knees were almost touching her feet but he wasn't sure whether to reach out for her or not when he realised how badly she was trembling. She looked like she was in shock.

Her face was buried down into the top of her knees, her arms were bound so tightly around her knees that she was going to hurt herself and she could barely breathe with her legs pushed up against her chest like that.

He took the risk and reached his hands out, carefully sliding his hands up (Y/n)'s arms until he was holding onto her just below her shoulders. His thumbs glided up and down her skin and he tilted his head down, trying to wait for her to look up at him, but she wouldn't lift her head.

"Baby what's the matter, what's happened?"

He couldn't very well do anything until he knew why she was so upset and what had happened. She could be hurt, she could have seen something, she could have been in an altercation. Hundreds of thoughts sped through Tobias's mind like lightning and he didn't like the sound of any of them.

When he didn't gain a response, Tobias sighed and slid his hand down to reach for her chin. He was careful and as gentle as he could be when he lifted her head so they were finally looking at one another. The tears pouring down her face made his heart lurch up into his throat while he tilted his head down a bit more until their gazes locked and she finally looked at him.

There was a sense of fear in her eyes that Tobias had never seen before, and that he wished never to see again. His thumb traced along her chin and up towards her lower lip and he leaned in closer until their temples were touching. Something broke inside of him when he watched another tear cascade down her face and he saw how hard it was to stop her lips from wobbling and letting out the broken sound she was holding at bay.

It took a few seconds for (Y/n) to gather enough air to speak without crying and it made her feel weak. She was Dauntless now, breaking down after an altercation like this wasn't what they were supposed to do. But no one else in the faction had almost been tossed over the side by their own group.

She had to divert her eyes down to Tobias's chin because looking into those dark brown eyes felt like a death sentence. And she knew she would never be able to tell him what happened if she was staring into his eyes.

"Peter, Alan and Garrett, t-they tried… tried to throw me down the c-casm. Said you're raising my score."

She wanted desperately to tilt her head down and bury her face back in her knees, but that proved impossible with Tobias still holding her chin. She was forced to see the lines appear on his face and watch how his muscles tensed and his jaw tightened until his teeth seemed like they were going to grind and break apart. But it was the way his eyes narrowed and a look of pure rage fuelled them that made (Y/n) want to cower down and hide.

"Did they hurt you?" His voice had never sounded so deep and it came with a low rumbling in his chest that was starting to feel an incessant fire surging throughout his body.

He watched as (Y/n) moved one shaky arm to wipe her eyes with her sleeve before she shook her head. "Eric caught them."

Her throat felt tender where one of them had practically gotten her into a headlock. Her chest was even worse than it had been from her fight with Peter earlier in the day and she was definitely bruised, but it was nothing that wouldn't heal. The scrapes and abrasions she had gathered tonight would heal, they weren't anything to worry about.

(Y/n) knew she was lucky. She could have smacked her head when they kept dropping her. She could have broken something in the scuffle to get away from them. And she knew she was forever lucky that Eric had been there at that exact moment, or else something worse might have happened.

She might have gone down the casm or she could have ended up knocking one of them down, and that may have been worse. They would have branded (Y/n) as a bad person, said she did it on purpose and she wouldn't have any way to defend herself or prove that they had been the ones to attack her.

When Tobias mumbled a gruff but quiet "Come here," (Y/n) tried to stop herself from tensing up and let her muscles go limp when he reached across for her. She wasn't sure whether he was going to try and get her up from the floor and take her to the bed or the bathroom.

But he didn't seem to have either of those things in mind. Instead, Tobias looped both his arms around her waist and pulled her across until she was sitting on his lap.

(Y/n) wriggled her legs around to curl them over his hips and she looped her shaking arms around the back of his neck, clinging to his front like a baby monkey of sorts. Her face burrowed down into the crook of his neck which caused him to shiver.

She could feel his hand splaying out in the centre of her back, trying to pin their chests together. Tobias wanted to tuck (Y/n) into his chest, to keep her safe and as close to his own heart as he could manage.

His lips attached to the side of her head but it didn't stop (Y/n) from being able to feel how tense he was and how each breath was laboured. He was trying his best not to implode. He was holding himself together when he desperately wanted to go off on a tangent and murder those three boys that had decided to mess with (Y/n). His girl.

It was comforting when Tobias began to rock back and forth, ever so slowly and very carefully like he wasn't sure whether the movement would be appreciated, but he knew he needed to do something.

"I… I don't wanna go back to the dorms, if th- if they're still there-"

"You're not going back there. You can stay here with me."

Tobias cut her off before she could even finish her trail of thought. She didn't want to go back to the dorms where all the other initiates would be. She didn't want to stay there if those three would be allowed back in there.

What if the others found out what happened? They might side with (Y/n), or they could agree that Tobias was giving her points and also bear a grudge against her. They might try and be spiteful and hurt her, and (Y/n) couldn't deal with anyone else turning on her like that. Those three were enough.

But she didn't have to go back. Tobias didn't want her leaving his sights. He didn't want (Y/n) to go back there and be with the others when three of them had just attacked her because she was doing better than them and they were afraid of becoming factionless.

She could stay here, Tobias didn't care how it looked or if anyone tried to say anything. She would be safer here with him and that was the point. He wasn't going to have this happen again, (Y/n) might not be so lucky if this occurred again.

"They won't be in this faction after tomorrow; they just sealed their fates." Tobias's tone was calmer than before, but his words were anything but.

He knew Eric would be on the same train of thought. They couldn't allow any of the newbies to act like this and think they still had a chance to stay in Dauntless. And their own families and factions wouldn't have them back after leaving and being in Dauntless for weeks. They had made their choice, and now they would have to deal with the consequences.

The rest of Dauntless might not feel safe, but at least here, sat on Tobias's lap, entangled in his arms, (Y/n) knew she was safe.

She pressed her lips against the side of his throat, breathing in his scent as she finally felt herself beginning to calm down. She was safe here. She wouldn't be running into Peter, Alan or Garrett anytime soon. Eric would be dealing with them right now and if he didn't, they'd better pray if Tobias found them in the morning.