#I did go in last year and get two or three at a time to catch up with anything I missed or needed updated

[wosospacegirl]

Legally binding - Part 7

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas—and she's already moved in.

Warnings: Alexia's guilt is eating her alive. Nala is the kid's new best friend. way too many heart analogies (not joking, it's irritating). Also, do bruises really get better with kisses? Let's find out and see

Word count: 5.2k

A/n: Did it take me a fortnight to write 5k? yes, yes it did. And I don't even love this chapter *cries*

Alexia was driving. The bright roadway lights were giving her a headache. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but her mind might as well have been anywhere else. Alexia was so tired. So completely tired.

Ever since Y/n had run away, Alexia had been on vigilant mode. She barely ate or slept. In the hospital, after she was reunited with Y/n again, she didn't allow relief to wash over her.

The kid was hurt. She was sad, lost and anxious. Alexia stood by her side; she didn't leave the hospital room for three whole days. She hadn't slept more than four hours straight, always being woken up by nurses and doctors coming in to check on Y/n.

Alexia's mind was drifting away, but she heard Eli talking with Y/n in the backseat about something, which brought her back, reminding her to pay attention, to continue driving.

Her mom's arm was wrapped around the girl as they played a quiet game of 'I spy', trying to fight off sleep and the boredom that came with the one-hour drive.

Everyone was tired, completely and utterly exhausted. They had been discharged thirty minutes ago, but the hospital had no proper guidelines regarding discharge hours.

Who actually processed discharges at 1 am? Alexia had been in her fair share of hospitalisations because of injuries, both minor and major, and not once did she have to walk out of the hospital with the moon shining bright in the sky.

Earlier that evening, the doctor had completed all the paperwork and spoken with the psychologist and social worker, who had given them the green light to discharge Y/n since her physical health wasn't a major concern anymore.

But they had had to wait hours for the final approval to actually leave. When the doctor finally came with the discharge papers, everyone in the room was sleeping, everyone but Alexia.

The doctor handed Alexia a (heavy) stack of papers, quietly explaining what each one meant.

She needed to show one to the nurse before they left, and another to the receptionist. Then came two pages filled with medication prescriptions for pain and vitamins, followed by two referrals for Y/n to see a child psychologist and a physiotherapist.

Alexia stared down at the papers in her hands, feeling overwhelmed.

It was her first time being a mom, and she wasn't really sure what to do. Right now, the papers had way more weight than they should have. Each page felt like a reminder of how much she didn't know, how much she was probably going to mess up. How much she had to learn.

She didn't know how her mom was able to raise two kids. Alexia was already getting overwhelmed with one; she couldn't imagine adding another one to that.

What helped Alexia when she was feeling overwhelmed was creating a plan.

And that's exactly what she did,

First, Alexia woke Alba up and told her they needed to leave soon. Alba began gathering everything, all of Y/n's teddy bears, the 'get well soon' balloons and other belongings as well.

They hadn't brought much to the hospital initially, but over the days, they had accumulated clothes, pillows, duvets, and toys for Y/n. Alba packed everything while Alexia handled the paperwork.

Eli was the second one to wake.

Alexia asked her to go down to the cafeteria and grab some food for the road, a coffee for herself, and whatever Eli thought Y/n might want to eat, though Alexia made sure Eli didn't buy anything with chocolate; it was too late (or way too early) for sugar.

The last one to open her eyes was Y/n.

Alexia kissed her head, murmuring softly against her skin that Y/n needed to wake up. She tried to be gentle, knowing very well that the medication she was on made her extra sleepy.

The kid woke up confused and groggy, as she often did since they had been in the hospital, as if it took her some minutes to realise where she was.

She rubbed her eyes and looked at Alexia with a pout, annoyed that her sleep was disturbed. She shifted uncomfortably, still not used to the boot on her leg.

"My foot hurts," she mumbled, and Alexia's chest squeezed.

"I know, cariño, I'm sorry, it'll be better soon. " Alexia said sweetly. "The doctor just came by and told me we can finally go home, sí? Let's get ready."

Alexia watched Y/n's face carefully, hoping for something that might suggest the kid wanted to come home with her. Some kind of excitement.

Instead, Y/n's body went completely rigid. The girl looked around the room frenetically, like she was searching for something or someone.

"Where's Yaya and Alba? W-where--? I'm going with them, right? To their house?" [grandma]

The question hit Alexia like a slap to the face. She had hoped, deep down in her chest, that when the time came, Y/n would choose to go home with her.

That Y/n would pick her over anyone else, that she would trust Alexia again. That maybe, just maybe, the kid would want her.

But it wasn't the case. Just the thought of leaving the hospital to go back to Alexia's apartment was enough to make the girl anxious. And Alexia wasn't going to allow another panic attack, not after seeing how bad the last one had been.

Alexia forced herself to breathe, trying to put on a brave face. She felt like she was breaking inside, but she was determined to be what her kid needed. Even if what Y/n needed wasn't her.

"You're going to stay with Yaya and Alba, cariño, don't worry." Alexia held Y/n's small hand, which was covered with drawings of flowers that Alba had made with Sharpies.

The drawings were a bit smudged now, almost fading into a mess of colours against her skin, but Y/n refused to wash them off, saying they looked 'stylish', even after Alexia begged her to do it.

"It will be just like we talked about." Alexia began explaining to her, holding her hand, trying to ground her. "We'll all leave together, but I'll drop you off at their place."

The kid let out a sigh of relief, and her whole body relaxed.

Alexia pretended the relief in Y/n's voice didn't feel like a knife to her heart.

What Y/n was feeling wasn't the kid's fault, Alexia reminded herself. She shouldn't feel guilty for wanting comfort, wanting to feel safe.

"Now let's get you ready, okay?" Alexia said, trying to sound a bit cheerful, making the most of the situation. "We need to get you out of this hospital clothing."

The kid's face formed into a pout, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. "But I like this little dress."

Alexia tilted her head, gently helping the girl sit up properly. "It's not a dress, it's a hospital gown."

"It's cute."

"It isn't." Alexia smiled, eyebrows raised. "It's plain, and it has blue dots on it."

"You're wearing the same clothes for three days," The kid said petulantly. "That's plain."

"Okay... ouch," Alexia rolled her eyes. "Your gown doesn't even close in the back, though."

"Well.., maybe it's not very practical," Y/n partially agreed. She looked up at Alexia with those big eyes. "But it's pretty, either way."

Alexia got down on her knees and carefully put Y/n's shoes on her feet, well, just on one foot, since the other one was covered by the boot.

They waited until the nurse came in to unhook Y/n's IV line; she flinched slightly when the tape was removed from her tender arm.

"Ow," she whispered, looking at the nurse with a scowl, but her expression quickly shifted when Alexia took her arm and kissed it.

"I just kissed it better," Alexia smiled. "Your arm's not gonna hurt anymore."

The kid stared at her arm. Alexia realised that maybe she was the first person to ever kiss any of the girls' bruises better.

"It's not working," the kid said suspiciously.

"What's not working?"

"Your kiss," she explained as if it were obvious. "It still hurts."

"Oh," Alexia bit her lip, trying to bite back a laugh. "It has like two to three business days to work."

"Mhm, the girl said, but it didn't sound like she was really believing in Alexia. "Try again," she held her arm out, right up to Alexia's face.

Alexia looked at her with fondness and leaned over, kissing the same spot as before. "What about now?"

The kid thought for a moment, her expression serious. "Now it's working."

"Good to know," Alexia smiled as she helped the girl put on a yellow t-shirt.

The girl pointed at her ankle. "Kiss my boot to make my ankle better, too."

Alexia stared at her. "Okay… let's set some boundaries, shall we?"

The kid pouted again, but didn't argue as Alexia helped her into some very loose sweatpants, the only ones that would fit over her leg.

"If you like dresses so much, I'll buy some for you," Alexia murmured after a few moments in silence.

She was trying to do something with the girl's hair now, something that looked different from a rat’s nest. All the time lying in bed hadn’t exactly been gentle on it.

"I don't think I can play football in a dress, though," the kid said seriously, wincing (again) when Alexia accidentally bumped her sore arm. "But maybe I could wear it to watch games? Like when you play? Does Barcelona sell dresses?"

The kid was more talkative now, and Alexia enjoyed that. Missed it even.

"Yeah, cariño. You could wear it to watch games." Alexia answered. "And I don't actually know if Barcelona sell dresses, I don't think so, but we can have one made for you."

The kid looked at her, as if now realising that Alexia was Alexia Putellas.

"You can do that?" The kid asked, looking at Alexia in wonder. "Make a dress? For me?"

Alexia laughed softly. "Well, I can't make one, but we can talk to people who can."

"Is that like.. expensive, though?"

Alexia petted her head. "Don't worry about money."

The kid was silenced, but then, she had an idea.

"Well… If we don't have to worry about money…" She began. "Then maybe you could ask someone to make a dress that I can play football in? One with shorts underneath?"

"We can just put shorts underneath any dresses," Alexia explained. "We don't have to make one to do that."

The girl nodded, satisfied with the answer.

After handling the final paperwork at the nurses' station and reception, they finally made their way to the car.

Y/n moved slowly with her boot, leaning on Alexia while the older player held her crutches. They got in the car, and the drive started.

Alexia's eyes were barely open.

She had drunk two cups of coffee before getting in the car and behind the wheel, but now the caffeine was making her feel more jittery than awake.

Her hands were shaking a little on the steering wheel, though she wasn't sure if it was from the coffee or from the fact that she was driving toward her Mom's home instead of her own, and that she wasn't going to come back to her apartment with her kid.

"Are we there yet?" Y/n asked from the backseat, her voice filled with boredom.

"Almost," Alexia said, glancing at the rear view mirror. The kid was fidgeting with the seatbelt, picking at it with her fingers.

She was restless; it looked like she was the one who had drunk coffee. Maybe she had, her mom had given her a suspiciously looking cup, but swore to Alexia that it was pineapple juice.

There was only an empty highway ahead of her, and the only thing keeping Alexia focused was the anxiety about getting into an accident with her entire family in the car.

Well, that and Alba's annoyingly loud finger-tapping against the car door. The younger Putellas was bobbing her head to whatever song was playing on the radio, as if she were at a concert.

Alexia's jaw tightened as Alba's tapping grew louder, with more enthusiasm.

"Quieres parar, ya?" Alexia grumbled, reaching over to smack Alba's hand while keeping her other firmly on the wheel. "It's irritating." [can you stop?]

"Don't hit me," Alba huffed, giving Alexia's shoulder a slap in return.

"I'm driving and you're distracting me!" Alexia snapped. "Cut it down."

"Are we there now?" Y/n asked up again. Her voice was getting that whiny edge that kids did when they were so utterly bored. "My leg is getting stiff, and my back hurts, and I want to sleeeep."

"Well, I told you I could be the one driving," Alba shrugged, crossing her arms, and ignoring Y/n. "You said 'no'…actually, you laughed in my face and hid the keys in your pocket."

"You drove us to the hospital and got us three different traffic violations! And cariño... almost," Alexia said, the last part directed at Y/n through the mirror.

"You were the one telling me to go as fast as I could!" Alba protested. "I was just doing what you told me to do."

"Yeah, I told you to be fast," Alexia continued, her voice rising. The sleep deprivation was making her snappier than usual. "I didn't tell you to drive the wrong way down a one-way street!"

"I was helping you, and now you're being so ungrateful!"

"Ungrateful? You are--"

"Can we please stop fighting?" Y/n interrupted, laying her head on Eli's shoulder. "My head hurts."

Alexia's irritation immediately melted into guilt. The kid had been through enough without having to listen to them bicker like children. But the guilt wasn't as strong as Alba's persistent tapping.

Alexia, because she was very mature, turned off the radio, which made Alba look at her with indignation.

"Are you for real?" Alba asked angrily, her fingers quickly trying to get the radio back on again.

Alexia slapped her hand away. "No more songs."

"Alexia, you are the most annoying--"

"Enough, you two!" Eli's sharp voice cut through their fight from the backseat, her face set in a scowl.

"Everyone in this car is exhausted, and we all want to go home. Alba, keep quiet. And Alexia, don't hit your sister while you're driving."

The car fell into immediate silence.

Alba turned toward the window with her arms crossed, sulking. Alexia's jaw was still clenched as she stared ahead. She could hear Y/n shifting in the backseat, probably trying to find a comfortable position for her leg.

"Okay, so actually, how long until we get there?" Y/n asked again, but quieter this time, maybe a bit scared; she had never heard Eli talking in anything but her sweet voice.

"Five more minutes, cariño. I promise." Alexia looked at Y/n in the mirror and tried to smile.

"Okaaay," She dragged the word, as if it wasn't okay at all.

Those five minutes felt like hours.

Alexia had parked right in front of Alba and Eli's house. The two women got out of the car first, Alba stretched her arms above her head, clearly sleepy, while Eli tried to find the house keys on the porch.

After a few seconds, they walked inside, leaving Alexia and Y/n alone in the quiet of the car.

The silence felt heavy. Alexia's hands remained on the steering wheel, her knuckles white against it.

This was it. This was where she would leave her kid. Where she would drive away and leave Y/n with other people. Of course, she wasn't going to stay with strangers who didn't know her.

Alexia trusted her mother and Alba with her life; she knew they would take good care of the kid.

But she couldn't help wondering if they would take better care of her than Alexia would. If they would know what to do when Y/n had nightmares, or when she got scared, or if they would help with homework?

Maybe they would. Maybe that's why Y/n didn't want to come home with her.

She turned around in her seat, forcing herself to give Y/n a sweet smile despite the whole situation. "We're here, niña. This is where they live."

Y/n pressed her face against the window, her breath fogging the glass as she took in every detail of the house before them, her hands leaving marks on the window as well. "Whoa," she whispered.

Y/n was in wonder. She liked Alexia's apartment. It was the first house she had in her whole life, but it was too beige, too clean, too empty. Y/n was a kid, she liked colour, nature and messes.

Alexia's apartment was too immaculate. When Y/n first took a step inside the apartment, it looked like no one lived there.

But here, at Yaya and Alba's house, it looked lived in. It looked like the homes in all of those Disney Channel movies Y/n watched back at Alexia's living room.

The house was beautiful. It was a two-story house with a big garden around it, and there was a path made out of stone that led to the front door.

The first floor's walls were made with the same stones as the path, while the second floor was painted white.

It was filled with vines growing on its skeleton, as well as purple flowers growing around its edges.

Y/n was already thinking about all of the bees and birds that must fly through the flowers and through the trees, looking for food, looking for a good and calm place to rest.

Every bug in Spain must be drawn by the petals of the flowers planted by Eli.

Even in the dark, Y/n saw how her garden was colourful and full. Y/n wanted to run through the flowers, feel their smell, maybe even climb the trees if her ankle wasn't messed up.

At the orphanage, they didn't have any outside space. The nuns said it would be too much for them to take care of. So Y/n never had a garden to herself.

Now she had one. And she was happier than ever, even if she felt a little guilty about being so excited when Alexia looked so sad.

Y/n knew Alexia was sad, she just didn't understand exactly why.

Ale was really trying to pretend to be okay, though… maybe for her sake? Y/n could tell when someone was pretending to be happy; she had done it several times.

Y/n saw Alba and Eli inside the house, moving from one room to another, as if they were in a hurry to gather things up, get everything ready for her.

They looked worried, Y/n could see it from afar. Maybe it was her fault; they probably weren't expecting to house a kid they met only a week ago.

"It's big," Y/n said. "Like, way too big. How many people live here?"

Alexia chuckled. She opened her car door, and the cool night air hit her face when she stepped out. "Just Yaya and Alba. They like having space for when family visits."

"Am I family?" Y/n asked suddenly.

"Sí, cariño. Eres familia." Alexia said, her heart feeling a little too heavy from her question. [you are family]

Alexia walked to the trunk of the car and retrieved the crutches before going to Y/n's side of the car and opening her door.

"It's a big house, but it's cosy inside. You'll see."

She held out her hands, and Y/n held them as she helped her slowly shift out of the seat. Once Y/n was standing (or well, trying to), Alexia went to position the crutches under her arms.

The look on Y/n's face was unmistakable. Her bottom lip was out, and her eyebrows furrowed as she stared down at the crutches.

"I know," Alexia said gently. "They're not very fun, are they? But it's just temporary, sí?"

The kid looked at her, and without missing a beat, she said, "No."

"No?" Alexia repeated, confused. "What do you mean no?"

"I'm not gonna use them," she said, lifting her chin, as if she had already made up her mind and there was no turning back. "They're ugly and they make me look weird."

Alexia was silent, looking at the girl with narrowed eyes. She was exhausted, Y/n was exhausted, and now they were going to fight about crutches at 2 am.

"Hm... yes, you are using them," Alexia said, trying to hand the crutches to the girl, but Y/n pushed them away, right into Alexia's body.

"No, I'm not!" the kid insisted, crossing her arms. "I can walk fine!"

To prove her point, Y/n took a step forward and immediately flinched in pain, a distressing expression on her face as she put weight on her injured ankle.

Alexia took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was too tired for this, too emotionally drained to deal with a stubborn kid who was clearly just as tired as her.

She put on the best mom face she had (or at least the one her mother always made when she was misbehaving) and leaned down, right at Y/n's eye level.

"You can say no to a lot of things-," Alexia began, her voice stern but not necessarily harsh. "-Your health is not one of them. If you don't use your crutches, you'll put unnecessary weight on your ankle. Do you want your ankle to get worse?"

The kid was looking at her with wide eyes, as if Alexia had never been this firm with her before, which maybe she hadn't (she didn't need to), but now she did.

The kid shook her head in response, looking a little scared.

"Words," Alexia said.

"No, I don't want my ankle to get worse," she said in a small voice that softened Alexia just a bit.

"Do you want to heal soon so you can play football?" Alexia asked.

"Sí," the kid nodded.

"Great!" Alexia said in sudden faux excitement. "Then here are your crutches."

The kid looked at her grumpily as Alexia adjusted them on her body. She was clearly unhappy, but Alexia was mature enough to know that not every right decision caused happiness. Sometimes being a mom meant being the bad guy.

"See, you look great in them!" Alexia said, smiling, trying to cheer the girl up.

"I hate them," Y/n mumbled, but she didn't push them away this time.

Okay, maybe the excitement didn't help.

Y/n tried to take a step forward. She was wobbling slightly as she adjusted. It was weird not having a working leg, and also frustrating for a kid who was used to running and playing all the time.

Alexia immediately placed a hand on her back, feeling how tense the girl's body was. She couldn't help but feel guilty again.

If Y/n hadn't run away that night, if Alexia had handled things better, she wouldn't have to wear crutches. She wouldn't be hurt at all.

Alexia closed the car door. With her hand still on Y/n's back, she guided her slowly up the pathway toward the house.

"It's just for a little while," Alexia said more gently, trying to calm the kid down. She didn't need to spend her first night at a different house feeling upset. "I've used crutches before, I know they aren't very nice."

"You did?" Y/n asked, looking up at her, the curiosity replacing some of the grumpiness.

"Yes," Alexia answered. "I got hurt a few years ago."

"How did you play if you were hurt?"

"I didn't," Alexia explained. "I had to do surgery, use crutches, and lost some major tournaments because of it."

"Weren't you sad because you wanted to play?"

"I was," Alexia explained. "Very sad, and mad too. Mami had to move in with me for a while to make sure I was happy enough."

Y/n was quiet for a moment, processing this information as they walked.

"Is that why you are letting me move in with Yaya?" the kid asked suddenly. "So I can be happy enough?"

Alexia froze in the spot, her stomach dropped. It was, wasn't it? Deep down, Alexia knew that her mom and Alba were what Y/n needed right now.

The kid was still hurt by hearing that Alexia wanted to give her back. Here, she would be a little happier. Have more room to play, to be a kid. Have people who knew how to take care of children. Have some space away from Alexia.

"Um, yes cariño," Alexia had lost count of how many fake smiles she had given the kid. "That's why."

But also because Y/n didn't want to be with her. Because every time the kid looked at Alexia, she probably remembered that night, remembered feeling unwanted (again).

"How long till I get the boot off?"

"One week with the boot, and then we'll start physiotherapy to make it better again," Alexia explained. "You just need to be a little patient."

Y/n paused near the planted flowers that grew along the front walkway. "What's physiotherapy?" she asked, the word clumsy on her tongue.

"It's like... exercises and massages that help our bones, muscles, and nerves heal properly," Alexia explained, wrapping her arm around Y/n's waist as they approached the steps near the front door.

She could feel Y/n leaning into her. Alexia wanted to keep her like that, at her side, but she knew she couldn't.

"The physiotherapist will teach you special movements to make your ankle strong again."

"Have you done it before?" Y/n asked in a small voice, looking up at Alexia. "Will it hurt?"

"I do physiotherapy almost every day," she said softly. "It doesn't hurt."

"All footballers do," she continued. "Some days it's a little uncomfortable, but it's not scary. And you know what? By the time you start playing professionally, you'll be so used to it."

"Really?" Y/n asked, seeming more at ease now.

"Really," Alexia confirmed.

Y/n smiled at that, but then her face got serious again. "Will you take me? To the physiotherapy? Or yaya will?"

"Well," Alexia stared. "I didn't book any physio appointments yet, so we'll see if I can and--"

"I want you to take me," the kid said decidedly. "Because you've already done it… so you know how it feels."

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

"Okay, ninã," Alexia finally told her. "Gonna do my best to be the one to drive you, sí?"

The kid accepted the answer happily.

They stood in front of the door, and Alexia found herself slowing down a bit, breathing in and out. In a few minutes, she would have to say goodbye. She would have to get back to the car and drive away.

She would have to drive home alone to an empty apartment. The kid would have to stay in a room that didn't have the night light Alexia had bought because she was afraid of the dark.

The thought made her chest feel tight, like she couldn't breathe properly, but she pushed it down. This was what Y/n needed right now. This was what would help her feel safe. And that was more important than what Alexia wanted.

"Let's go in?" Alexia said. "Ready? estás lista?"

Y/n nodded. "sí, estoy lista." [yes, I'm ready]

Alexia was surprised when the kid asked, "Are you ready?"

Alexia didn't know what to say, so she lied. "Yeah, cariño. I'm ready."

Alexia reached out and opened the door. Alba and Eli were already there, waiting for them.

"Okay, cariño," Eli said, stepping forward with a warm smile, "I just got the guest room ready for you."

"And I made some sandwiches, if you are hungry," Alba said, just as fast steps were heard in the hallway, and a small dog appeared moments after.

"Oh my god!!" Y/n screamed happily, her face lighting up. She looked at Alexia, then at Alba and Eli, and back at the dog. "A dog! It's so cute! I love it."

Maybe she didn't care much about the sandwiches.

Alexia felt sad as the girl seemed to want to get down to pet the dog, but couldn't because of her crutches. She was trying to bend down awkwardly, nearly losing her balance.

"Come on, Nala," Alexia said, getting on one knee as the little creature made its way to her.

Alexia took Nala in her arms and brought it close to Y/n's body. She couldn't hold her, so Alexia stood there as the girl petted Nala, her face full of joy.

"It's sooo cute!" the kid said, patting Nala's head. "What kind of dog is her?"

"Pomeranian", Alba said. "Alexia and I got her when she was still a puppy."

"That's like Alba's kid," Alexia joked. "So be kind."

"Oh, so we are cousins!" the kid said, which made Alexia's heart feel warm and broken at the same time. She was happy that the kid was feeling like part of the family, because she was.

"Yes," Alba said, taking a step in as Alexia let Nala on the floor again. "Come on, pequeña, let's show you your room, sí?"

The kid's smile faltered, and she looked back at Alexia with something that might have been fear.

Alexia squeezed Y/n's shoulder gently. "Go on, corazón."

"You'll be back?" the kid asked uncertain.

"I need to go home now," Alexia said, feeling guilty for the way Y/n's face fell.

"C-can you stay here with me?" the kid asked, her eyes wide and pleading. "Just for a night?"

Alexia looked at Y/n's face, at the way she was gripping her crutches tightly. She thought about her empty apartment, about waking up tomorrow morning with no one to make breakfast for.

She thought about how Y/n had asked if she was ready, like the kid knew this was hard for her, too.

She thought about how, maybe, Y/n needed her to stay just as much as Alexia needed to stay.

"Of course I can," Alexia said. "But I need to leave early for training, sí?"

The kid looked up at her, nodding, then her face fell to the floor, glued to Nala.

"Can my prima sleep with me too?" she asked with big doe eyes. [cousin]

"No," Alexia and Eli said at the same time that Alba said 'yes!'

The kid looked between the three of them. "Sí? or no?"

Eli and Alexia shared a look, their eyes softening.

"Just one night," Eli agreed, wrapping her arms around Y/n.

"She's not sleeping in my side of the bed," Alexia said grumpily, but happy that the kid was smiling.

A/n: I'm feeling kinda off with this story lately haha, might do a small time jump to see if it helps. I didn't really love this chapter, but I also didn't want to wait another week to post an update for it.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen

[busuteme]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Katsuki Bakugo x fem Reader, where to keep some creepy suitor away, Bakugo agrees to pretend to be Reader’s boyfriend. It was only supposed to last a week or two, with the whole holding each other's hands in public, walking her to class, maybe a kiss on the cheek, etc. But, over time, the fake flirting starts feeling genuine and real. The lines begin to blur, so when Reader gets flustered during one of their staged moments, Bakugo starts to wonder if she's feeling what he's feeling too? I guess you can say, there might be some "Explosive Chemistry" between them?

“Explosive Chemistry”

Fake Dating; Bakugou x Fem!reader -requested- (Hii wasn’t sure what you meant entirely by explosive chemistry but I tried..?)

“She laughs like I’m not the meanest fucker in the room. Like I’m not the guy everyone avoids pissing off. And when she looks at me, really looks at me, it’s like she sees somethin’ good. Somethin’ I didn’t even know was there. Drives me insane. But I don’t wanna lose that. I don’t wanna lose her.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It started as a favor.

A dumb, annoying, why-the-hell-did-I-agree-to-this kind of favor. You’d asked him one afternoon after training, eyes a little too hopeful, voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “Just for a couple weeks,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at some second-year creep who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’ll back off if he thinks I’m dating someone. Just until he gets bored.” Bakugou rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Tch. You couldn’t ask, like, anyone else?”

You smiled, kind of sheepishly. “You’re the scariest one I know.” Damn it. You knew exactly what to say. So he agreed. For a week. Two, max. Walks to class. A hand on your lower back. Maybe a kiss on the cheek if the loser was watching. Nothing serious. He’d bite his tongue, get it over with, and things would go back to normal. Except they didn’t.

Not really.

Because the hand-holding didn’t feel weird after the second day. Because walking you to class turned into waiting for you, every time, even when you were late. Because when you laughed all bright and unguarded, right after he told some prick to back the hell off, something ugly, possessive twisted in his chest and he couldn’t untangle it. And now?

Now it’s three weeks in, and he’s the one brushing your hair out of your face, leaning in a little too close when he talks, catching himself staring at your mouth mid-conversation and not looking away fast enough. You’re both in the courtyard, alone. A quiet spot behind the dorms. You’re sitting beside him, talking about something small, meaningless. He leans in, murmuring something about “playing it up” in case that creep’s still watching. His voice drops lower than usual, rough and warm right next to your ear. “Act like you missed me, dumbass.” It’s meant to be teasing. You know that. A stupid line for a stupid “fake” scenario. But your face goes hot anyway, cheeks blooming red as you fumble a reply, lips parting like you’ve forgotten how words work.

“Maybe, I did..” You don’t meet his eyes. And that’s when he notices it. The little hitch in your breath. The way your fingers twitch like they’re debating whether to reach for his. The way you don’t recover, not with a snarky comment or a playful jab like usual, but with silence. Flustered silence? Maybe?

And something in Bakugou pauses. Because that? That wasn’t just acting.

Bakugou’s stomach turns. Not because he doesn’t know how he feels he does but because it’s too much. Too complicated. You’re soft. Kind. The type who actually listens to people. You sit with him at lunch, even when he’s being a dick. You walk at his pace even when he’s dragging his feet. And when you hold his hand, even when no one’s looking, you don’t let go right away. He stares at you, heart thudding louder in his chest than he wants to admit. His mouth opens, closes again. Then “You good?” You nod too fast. “Mhm. Yep. Totally fine.”

He squints. “You’re red,”

“No, I’m not.”,

“You’re blushin’”

“No, I, Shut up.”

You bury your face in your hands and groan. And suddenly, he’s not sure what part of this is real anymore. Because that look on your face, that nervous, breathless, hoping-it-meant-something look, it’s the same one he’s been trying to hide for weeks. He sits back a little, arms crossed over his chest like he’s guarding something. “…Don’t look at me like that if you don’t mean it,” he says, quiet but firm.

You blink. “What..?” He doesn’t repeat it. He doesn’t have to. (Really he doesn’t want to but shhh)

Because now you’re staring at him, and for once, the line between pretending and real feels thin enough to break with just one more heartbeat.

And he wonders, maybe hopes, that you feel it too.

[difficultlife]

Still, You

→ sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to see her again, Sophia, your first love, now so far away. But when fate brings you face to face, old wounds reopen, and the past refuses to stay buried. Can you find a way back, or is it too late?

Author’s note: English is not my first language. Angsttt. Let me know if you want a part two.

Everyone knew Sophia as the heart of KATSEYE.

The leader with the loud laugh, the bright eyes, always humming between takes or dancing through rehearsals.

She was sunshine, constant, untouchable.

Not even the girls who lived with her, trained with her, cried beside her… had ever seen her truly sad.

Not until she saw you again.

She hadn’t planned to see her again.

Not in LA. Not in that store. Not like that.

The bell above the boutique door jingles softly as you step inside.

The place is quiet, soft music hums from hidden speakers, the walls are neutral, clean, bathed in golden sunlight from the tall windows. You're only here for a gift bag.

Quick in, quick out.

You don’t notice them at first. Why would you?

Across the room, Megan giggles at something Lara says. Sophia lingers a little behind, half-focused on her phone, hood up, head down.

“Laraaa,” Megan whines, pointing to a high shelf. “That’s the one I want, but I literally cannot reach it.”

Lara tries anyway. She’s even shorter than Megan, so it’s a bit of a mystery why she thought she could reach it in the first place. She sighs dramatically and scans the shop.

Then she spots you.

“Excuse me?” she asks, walking over. “Sorry—could you help us get something from the top shelf?”

You offer her a polite smile. “Yeah, of course.”

You follow her over, reach up without effort, and hand Megan the item with a quiet nod.

That’s when you feel it.

The air shifts. Tightens. Like a string being pulled too far.

“Y/N?”

The voice is soft. Familiar. Unsteady.

You freeze, your hand still half-outstretched.

And when you turn, she’s there.

Sophia.

Her hood’s fallen back slightly. Her lips are parted, eyes wide.

Like she’s seeing a ghost.

Like you’re the one haunting her.

“Hi,” you say softly.

You try to smile, but it wavers. It’s been three years since you last saw her. And yet… she hasn’t changed.

No, that’s not true.

She’s more polished now. More distant. A little thinner. A little shinier. A little less yours.

Except—

She’s still wearing that lip gloss. The one you used to tease her about.

“You always overdo it.” “You always like it.”

And she was right. You did.

Megan and Lara glance between the two of you, eyebrows lifting in unison.

“You guys know each other?” Lara asks.

Sophia doesn’t answer. She just stares.

You nod. “Yeah. We... we used to.”

Sophia swallows hard. Her eyes flick briefly to your hands, like she’s looking for a ring. Or maybe a reason. Or maybe just an anchor.

“But... what are you doing here?” she finally asks.

“I thought you were still in the Philippines.”

You exhale, slow and steady. “I moved here. A few months ago. Got a job offer I couldn’t really pass up.”

A beat.

Sophia’s face shifts, the mask returning.

“Oh. That’s… That’s great.”

But her voice trembles at the edges.

You nod once, then take a small step back.

“Well. I should go. Enjoy your shopping.”

You turn, already preparing to forget the way she looked at you.

But her voice catches you again, quieter this time. Like a confession.

“Y/N…”

You pause.

But you don’t look back.

Not yet.

And then, slowly, you walk away.

Megan stares after you as the boutique door swings shut behind you, the little bell still trembling.

Her eyes slowly drift back to Sophia, who’s frozen in place, looking like she just got slapped by a ghost.

“…Girl,” Megan says, very softly. “What was that?”

Sophia blinks like she’s waking up from a dream.

“I—nothing. Just someone I used to know.”

“Used to know?” Megan repeats, unimpressed.

Lara arches an eyebrow. “Because that looked like a lot more than used to know, babe.”

Sophia forces a laugh. It sounds wrong in her throat. “Can we just – can we go?”

The girls exchange a look but don’t push. Megan links arms with her. “Yeah. Of course.”

The walk back is quiet. Too quiet.

Lara usually hums when she walks. Megan usually skips. Today, there’s none of that.

They walk on either side of Sophia like soft guardrails.

Sophia doesn’t speak.

She just watches the sidewalk blur beneath her feet, breath tight in her chest. Her thoughts spinning so fast they’re barely thoughts at all.

She cut her hair. She looks older. She moved here. She didn’t tell me. Why would she? You’re not hers anymore. You’re not anyone’s.

She thinks of the way you looked at her. Not angry. Not distant.

Just… careful.

The same way you used to hold my face when you were about to say something important. The way you used to look at me right before saying "I love you" like you weren’t sure I’d say it back.

And now you don’t say it at all.

They reach the front gate.

Megan finally breaks the silence. “You gonna tell us who she was?”

Sophia doesn’t answer.

She just walks up the steps, pushes open the door, and heads straight inside.

No comment. No shrug. Not even a glance back.

Lara and Megan exchange a look. “…Okay,” Lara mutters.

“Did she even take off her shoes?” Megan whispers.

~

Inside, the house is quiet. The other girls glance up from the couch.

Sophia doesn’t say hi. Doesn’t make a joke. Doesn’t ask what’s for dinner like she always does.

She just walks past them, robotic. Straight to her room.

The door shuts behind her with a soft click.

Too soft for how loud it feels.

Later, when they peek in, she’s lying on her side, fully dressed, curled up, eyes wide open. Staring at nothing.

Later that night.

The dorm is dim. Most of the lights are off, just the glow of the hallway nightlight spilling down the hall.

A quiet knock.

“Soph?”

Nothing.

Another knock, softer this time.

“It’s just me. I brought you something.”

A pause. Then the door creaks open just a little.

Megan stands there with a mug in her hands. Steam curling from the top.

“Chamomile. Don’t come for me, I’m trying to be motherly or whatever.”

Sophia gives the tiniest huff of breath, but it’s not quite a laugh.

She steps aside, lets Megan in.

Sophia climbs back into bed without a word. Pulls her knees up. Megan sits on the edge, careful not to crowd her, and sets the mug down on the nightstand.

They sit in silence for a moment.

Sophia doesn’t cry. She doesn’t speak. She just looks at the mug like it holds answers.

Megan finally says, very quietly, “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Sophia blinks. Her voice comes out raw. “I did.”

A beat. Megan doesn’t press.

“I don’t need to know everything,” she says softly, standing. “But I’m here. Okay?”

Sophia nods once, eyes still on the mug.

When the door clicks shut behind Megan, Sophia finally reaches out and wraps her hands around the warmth.

She still doesn’t drink it.

But she holds it like it’s something to hold onto.

Megan walks away from Sophia’s room and lets herself fall onto the couch where the others are seated.

Manon looks up immediately. “So? What happened in there? Sophia seemed... different.”

Megan sighs, running a hand through her hair. “She’s shaken up. We ran into someone today — someone from her past. I don’t know all the details, but it hit her hard.”

Lara leans forward, voice low. “Sophia didn’t want to talk about it yet. But you could tell it was serious.”

Daniela frowns, concern creasing her brow. “Do you think it’s something we should know? Something dangerous?”

Megan shakes her head. “No, not dangerous. Just... complicated. And private.”

Manon glances toward the hallway where Sophia’s room is. “Well, whatever it is, she’s got us. She doesn’t have to face it alone.”

The group nods, a quiet resolve settling over them.

A couple of days later, everything is still the same. The group is not the same anymore since Sophia is so down.

The soft glow of a desk lamp spills into her otherwise dark room.

Megan hesitates at the door, then knocks lightly.

“Fia? Mind if I come in?”

A pause. Then the door opens just enough for Megan to slip inside.

Sophia’s sitting on her bed, knees pulled up, staring out the window.

Megan sits on the edge of the bed, careful to keep some distance.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Megan says softly. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But if you do... I’m here.”

Sophia finally turns, eyes meeting Megan’s. They’re tired but grateful.

“Thanks,” she whispers. “It’s just… complicated. Someone from my past. Someone I thought was gone.”

Megan nods slowly, giving her time.

“When you’re ready,” Megan continues, “you can tell me. Or anyone here. We’ll listen.”

Sophia’s lip twitches into a faint smile. “Maybe one day.”

Megan stands, gently squeezing Sophia’s shoulder before heading to the door.

“Take your time. No rush.”

The door closes softly behind her.

The group is scattered across the couch in the living room, soft chatter fading as Sophia walks in.

She lingers in the doorway. Arms folded. Eyes puffy. That nervous Sophia they rarely see, the one behind the sparkle.

Megan notices first. She sits up. “You okay?”

Sophia shrugs, steps in slowly. Her voice is thin. Her face is blank. But her eyes are swimming.

“She’s… her name’s Y/N,” she says, sitting slowly on the arm of the couch. “She’s my ex.”

A silence falls. The kind that hangs heavy, like fog or ash. No one dares speak first.

“Oh,” Daniela says gently. “You okay?”

Sophia opens her mouth, then closes it again.

She shakes her head.

“She’s in LA,” she murmurs. “She wasn’t supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be back home. In the Philippines. She never said she was leaving. She never told me.”

“Maybe she didn’t know you were here either?” Manon offers, softly.

“She knew,” Sophia says, her voice breaking. “She knew. We were together since we were fifteen. And when I got invited to Dream Academy, we… we broke up.”

Lara blinks. “Wait. Fifteen? You were together for like… five years?”

Sophia nods, eyes fixed on her shoes. Her voice is quieter now, almost dreamy.

“She cut her hair,” she says.

The girls glance at each other.

“She always talked about it,” Sophia continues. “Said she wanted to try it. But never did. Said she’d wait until something changed.”

A pause.

Her throat tightens. “I guess everything changed.”

No one says anything.

And Sophia, for once, lets the silence stretch.

A tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it away, quick and rough.

“I left her,” she says suddenly. “I told her I had to go — that I couldn’t be in both places at once. She didn’t fight it. She just… let me.”

Her hands curl into fists. “And I thought I could handle that. I thought I could be okay with chasing my dream. But then I saw her the other day, and it was like—”

She exhales shakily.

“Like my whole chest cracked open.”

Megan shifts closer, resting a gentle hand on her back.

Daniela offers softly, “Do you still love her?”

Sophia doesn’t answer. Not with words.

She just nods.

Once.

And everyone understands.

The room stays quiet for a moment, not judging, just letting it settle.

Then Lara says, almost thoughtfully, “She looked at you like she still loved you.”

Sophia’s breath catches, eyes flicking to her lap.

“And you looked at her like you never stopped,” Manon adds, soft but honest.

Sophia doesn’t reply.

She doesn’t have to.

The girls exchange glances, quiet, supportive, curious.

Then Megan says, “So… what now?”

Sophia blinks at her.

And Megan shrugs, smiling gently. “You want us to back off? Help? Meddle just a little?”

That draws a reluctant laugh from Sophia, small, but real.

“I don’t know yet,” she admits. “But… if I try… I wouldn’t mind not doing it alone.”

The others nod, one by one.

“We got you,” Manon says.

“Obviously,” Daniela adds.

“Team Sophia,” Lara grins, raising her hand.

Sophia wipes quickly at her eyes. “Thanks.”

And for the first time in days, she breathes just a little easier.

The days that followed were… different.

The house didn’t echo with Sophia’s laughter anymore. No sudden bursts of off-key singing. No playful bickering over who stole whose hoodie. Just a quiet that clung to the walls, thick and unfamiliar.

Sophia moved like a shadow of herself. She did the choreography. Hit her lines. Smiled when the cameras were on. But the moment the spotlight faded, so did she.

The others noticed. Of course they did.

At first, they tiptoed around it, unsure how to help her, unsure if she even wanted help. But then one night, curled up on the couch with half-eaten popcorn and a half-hearted movie playing in the background, they made a decision.

If Sophia wouldn’t talk to Y/N… maybe Y/N would talk to her.

They’d find her. Somehow. The mysterious girl with the short hair and the heartbreak in Sophia’s eyes.

Not to fix everything.

Just to give them a chance to speak.

Because whatever Y/N was to her, whatever she still was, it mattered.

And none of them could watch their leader fall apart without trying to catch her.

~

The café hums with quiet energy, the low whir of the espresso machine, soft indie music spilling from overhead speakers, the clink of cups on ceramic saucers.

You sit tucked in the corner, headphones in, fingers idly scrolling through your phone while your coffee cools beside you. Just a quiet afternoon. A small pocket of peace.

Until you feel it, that odd sensation. The kind where someone’s watching you.

You glance up casually.

And lock eyes with Megan.

She freezes mid-step, one hand wrapped around a caramel frappe, the other tugging Lara along by the sleeve. Lara follows her gaze… and her eyes widen when she sees you.

You blink.

They blink.

Nobody moves.

Then Megan recovers first, walking over like she wasn’t just stunned two seconds ago. Lara follows, clearly unsure but curious.

“Hey,” Megan says, her voice soft, cautious.

You take out one earbud. “Hi.”

“We, uh… saw you from outside. Didn’t expect to run into you again.”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah. LA’s big.”

“But not that big, apparently,” Lara adds, half-joking, half-nervous. “Mind if we sit?”

You hesitate for a beat… then nod. “Sure.”

They slide into the chairs across from you, awkward but trying.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Megan leans forward, gently.

“She hasn’t been the same since she saw you.”

You blink again. “Sophia?”

They both nod.

“She didn’t tell us anything at first,” Lara says. “But eventually she did. Said you’re… important.”

“She didn’t say it like that,” Megan mutters. “She said it like you were everything.”

You look down at your coffee. “It’s been a long time.”

“But you still care,” Megan says, reading you too easily. “I saw it. The way you looked at her.”

You don’t deny it.

“Would you talk to her?” Lara asks. “Not to… fix things or whatever. Just… to let her breathe again.”

You take a slow sip. The heat burns your tongue, but it gives you a second to think.

You look back up at them, kind eyes, full of hope for someone who’s not even here.

You nod.

“Okay.”

A couple of days later, you’re standing near the edge of their yard when the door opens behind you.

She steps out quietly, arms crossed, jaw tense. The air changes. You feel it before you even look.

You turn.

Her hood’s off. Her eyes are soft and guarded all at once.

“Hi,” she says.

You nod. “Hi.”

She walks toward you. Not quite hesitant, not quite confident, somewhere in between.

“You cut your hair,” she says softly.

You smile faintly. “Yeah.”

“It suits you.”

“You always said it would.”

Her lips twitch upward, but the smile doesn’t last.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she says.

“I didn’t know you were still wearing that gloss.”

Her breath catches.

“You noticed?”

You shrug. “Hard not to.”

She’s quiet. Then, in a small voice: “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because I had to. Dream Academy wasn’t a halfway kind of dream.”

You nod. “I know.”

“I didn’t think you’d move on so quietly.”

“I didn’t.”

That surprises her.

Her eyes flick to yours. “You didn’t?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t know how.”

She blinks fast.

“I missed you,” she says. “I still do.”

“I know.”

A silence, warm and terrifying.

Then you take a small step forward. “Can we talk? Really talk?”

She hesitates.

Then nods.

“Yeah. I want to.”

They sit on the edge of the old wooden bench, the kind that creaks if you shift too much. The sun is beginning to sink, bathing the yard in soft gold. Neither of them speaks at first.

You tug at your sleeve. “I thought I’d be okay seeing you again.”

She looks down. “I thought you’d be mad.”

“I was,” you admit. “At first. But mostly I was just… overwhelmed.”

She presses her fingers to her temple. “It was like my body remembered you before my brain did.”

You laugh gently, almost surprised at yourself. “Yeah. That’s how it felt for me, too.”

A silence. Then—

[FLASHBACK – Age 17]

The two of you lie side by side on a rooftop in Manila, watching fireworks crackle in the sky above the New Year crowd. You’re sharing earbuds. Her hand’s in yours.

“If you ever leave,” you whisper, “I’ll still find you. Wherever you go.”

Sophia turns her head. She’s grinning, but her eyes are too soft. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” you say. “I’d cross an ocean.”

“You’d hate LA,” she laughs.

“Then I’ll stay in the Philippines and wait for you to come back.”

[BACK TO PRESENT – The Yard]

Sophia exhales.

“I used to play that conversation in my head every day during training,” she says quietly. “I thought maybe if I did well enough… if I got through everything fast enough, I could go home. And maybe you’d still be there.”

You nod slowly, chewing your cheek. “I was.”

Sophia’s eyes shine. “I didn’t even know you left. And when I saw you in that store, I couldn’t breathe. You looked like a future I imagined but never got to live.”

[FLASHBACK – Age 19]

It’s two weeks before she leaves for Korea.

You’re sitting on her bed. She's pretending to pack but mostly just folding and refolding the same hoodie.

“You should go,” you say. “This is your dream.”

Her voice breaks. “But you’re mine.”

You pull her into your arms. “We’ll figure it out.”

She’s crying. She says, “Don’t wait for me.”

You don’t answer, because you already know you will.

[BACK TO PRESENT – The Yard]

Sophia’s fingers twist in her lap. “I didn’t expect to see you again. I didn’t let myself hope.”

You watch her carefully. “So what now?”

She bites her lip, nervous. “I don’t know. I don’t expect anything. I just… I want to be honest with you.”

You nod. “Then be honest.”

She looks at you fully now. No guards. No mask.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with that,” she continues. “But I needed you to know.”

You take her hand, tentative. Gentle.

“I never stopped either.”

Her shoulders fall, like she’s been holding that weight for years.

[FLASHBACK – Manila, Age 15]

A small school auditorium. Plastic chairs. Echoing mic feedback. You’re slouched near the back, pretending not to care.

Then she walks onstage, nervous and radiant, trying to hide how much her hands are shaking.

And then she sings.

Not flawless, but heartfelt. Something about it cuts through the noise.

Afterward, you wait by the vending machines, heart beating faster than you’d ever admit.

When she walks by, you say it without thinking: “You were really good.”

She stops, startled. “What?”

You shrug. “Your voice. It stuck with me.”

She blinks. “I almost didn’t go up.”

“Well,” you say, smiling faintly, “I’m glad you did.”

That was it. One moment. One spark. The start of everything.

[BACK TO PRESENT – The Yard]

Sophia’s eyes shimmer. She’s crying, but the tears are quiet, like rain that refuses to storm.

“I’m scared,” she whispers.

You turn to look at her, brows drawn together. “Why?”

“Because seeing you again… made everything I buried come back. And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

There’s a pause. The kind that stretches between hearts that were once completely entangled.

You reach out, letting your hand rest near hers. Not forcing anything. Just… offering.

“You don’t have to go through anything alone,” you say softly. “I’m here. I always have been.”

Sophia looks at your hand.

Then, like muscle memory, like instinct, she leans into you. Just slightly.

You wrap your arm around her, and she rests her head against your chest. For the first time in years, the space between you feels small again.

You rest your cheek against her hair.

No promises. No pressure.

Just the warmth of something that never truly left.

And maybe, for tonight, that’s enough.

[bm571158]

Burnout- MV1

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

'Champagne, Celebrations & Chaos'

(smut warning from the 🔥 onwards)

The paddock was buzzing come race day. The neon lights of the Vegas strip lit up the track. It was chaotic, the pressure was on and Max hadn't slept a wink the night before. Not because of the pressure of the fact today was the day he might clinch his fourth world championship. No, he'd been awake all night thinking about her.

The way she'd looked on stage, the smile on her face, those mile long legs and the way her body moved to the music. It was all he could think about. All he could see every time he closed his eyes. Then he'd had to go back and share a hotel bed with her like it was nothing. When she'd turned over in her sleep and curled her face into his neck, his hands had been almost twitching trying to stop himself pulling her in closer.

The lack of sleep had left him tense and grumpy, but she'd put it down to the pressure he was under to perform after a less than ideal qualifying. The team hadn't commented at all. They were used to him by this point.

He'd parted ways with Talia when they'd arrived at the track. She had commitments with the film crew, and he had meetings with the team and the drivers parade to get to ahead of the race. He didn't like to dwell on the fact that he missed having her around when he got a few minutes between meetings and was left in Red Bull hospitality on his own.

It was just after the drivers parade when she did eventually catch up to him. He'd spent the entire drivers parade dying inside as everyone questioned him about his relationship with Talia, Lando making jokes about him living every man's dream getting to share a bed with her. Max had been redder than Charles's Ferrari jacket and nothing had even happened.

But they didn't know that. The way they'd taken the piss out of him had been absolutely relentless.

She was still in her race suit from filming, the suit hanging around her hips as she leaned against the wall waiting for him. Her eyes bright and a smile on her face despite the long days.

"Hey." She grinned. "I've been looking for you."

"Missing me already?" He joked. "You done and coming back to Red Bull?"

She nodded. Her clothes were in a bag in his drivers room that she'd left there earlier so that she could change ahead of the race when she was done with filming.

"I'll walk with you."

He called out a quick goodbye to the others, ignoring the comments he could already Lando and Charles making behind them as they walked away. As they made their way into the crowds of the paddock he reached back and grabbed her hand to keep her with him without a second thought. It just felt right.

Lando was still taking the piss out of him for it as they stood on the grid for the anthem ahead of the race.

"Lando, I swear to god if you don't shut up I'm going to kill you." Max hissed under his breath as the anthem finished.

Lando didn't say anything, just laughed and walked away like he knew that he was right.

.🎥

When the lights went out at the start of the race, Max was in P6. Talia was in the back of the garage, wrapped in his coat as it was surprisingly cold, with her fingers cross tightly like it might actually be doing something. She was more nervous for him than she had been for anything in her entire life.

He needed this, he deserved it. She'd been watching him work so hard for this championship all year, and she wanted nothing more than for him to finally do it and them to be celebrating. He'd earned it.

He stayed surprisingly calm on the radio compared to how he'd been in the last few races when he was struggling with the car. The on board showed him wrestling the steering wheel to keep it going the right way on more than one occasion, but he kept calm and didn't complain. Just got it back on the racing line as quickly as he could and set off up the road after the next car.

The overtakes were a bit scrappy, but mainly because the car was so unpredictable, he kept himself out of trouble and didn't take any unnecessary risks. Once he'd got past Lando he seemed to accept that he just needed to make sure he brought it home. He didn't need to win, just make sure that he finished ahead of Lando.

The last ten laps after he got himself up to P3 just seemed to last an absolute lifetime. The entire garage was holding their breath, like no one dared to move just in case. Lando was right behind him, close enough that if Max made a mistake he might just capitalise on it and the title fight would continue on to the next race.

But Max used all his skill and experience to keep

Lando behind him right up to the chequered flag, even when it had looked like it was impossible. As he passed the chequered flag Talia finally let out a breath, relief and excitement flooding through her simultaneously. A cheer broke out in the garage, champagne being opened and people drifting out into the pitlane to head down to the podium to meet him.

She'd followed after them, running down the pitlane in her heels as fast as she could manage.

He was just pulling in behind the board that had been put out, the one that declared him the 2024 world champion, when they arrived. The red bull team that were already there ushered her up to the barriers at the front to wait for him, and her face almost hurt from smiling as she watched him celebrating with his team.

They'd hoisted him up in the air, spinning him around, before he'd even got as far as taking his helmet off. But even through the gap where he'd lifted up his visor she could see enough of his eyes to know he had a huge smile on his face.

When they eventually set him down and he managed to take his helmet off he'd made his way over to the barrier. The team had wrapped him in hugs, patted him on the shoulder and congratulated him with huge smiles on their face.

And then he'd reached her.

Thrown his arms around her and hugged her so tightly that he very nearly dragged her over the barrier with him.

"That was amazing!" She grinned, voice muffled against his neck. "I'm so proud of you."

"We're celebrating tonight." He grinned, pulling back a little to look at her. His arms were still wrapped around her, and he looked at her with a silent question for a moment that she didn't really understand.

And then his lips were on hers. Fingers tangled through her hair. Kissing her like she was the oxygen that he so desperately needed.

He pulled away eventually, not because he wanted to, but because not only did he actually need a second to breathe, he was being given the hurry up for the cool down room by the FIA.

"I've gotta go." He mumbled, blushing, as he finally released her. "I'll come find you as soon as I'm done with media?"

And then he walked away and left her there, lipstick smudged halfway around her face, hair a mess and absolutely zero regrets.

She'd done more than enough fake kisses for a script in her life to know when something felt real and that... that had felt like it meant something, even if it really shouldn't.

She'd wandered back to the Red Bull garage with everyone else as he'd gone off to do media. Looking in confusion as someone tossed her something when she walked in, only to realise it was one of the T-shirts that the team had made for the occasion.

She pulled it over her head with a smile, grabbed a glass of champagne that was offered to her and perched on the counter at the back of the garage to wait for him to return with the rest of the team.

When he did return, it was with a gin and tonic in his hand, her lipstick still smudged on his lips and a huge grin still on his face. The garage had cheered for him again, he'd found himself picked up and spun around as they chanted his name.

Then, when they'd finally set his feet back on the ground for a couple of minutes, he'd spotted her still sitting on the counter at the back of the garage, legs dangling and watching him with a fond smile on her face.

"Hey." He grinned, walking over to her and stopping in front of her. The hand that wasn't cradling his gin and tonic landed gently on her thigh as he looked at her. "I like the shirt, looks good on you."

"How many of those have you had?" She joked, gesturing towards the drink in his hand.

"Nowhere near enough." He grinned. "I just... I didn't overstep the mark earlier, did I? I got a bit caught up with all the celebrating and then I stood there on the podium thinking oh fuck why did I do that."

"Max." She laughed, placing her hand on his chest to stop the nervous rant he was about to go on. "It's all good, I promise."

He gulped down the rest of his drink and set the cup on the side next to her. "So you don't mind if I do it again then?"

She didn't get an answer out, his lips were already on hers, hands on her waist this time and pulling her in closer to him.

He pulled away suddenly at the sound of someone calling his name, as though he'd suddenly remembered where he was.

"I need to do this team photo." He explained, adjusting the front of his race suit before he turned to the front of the garage. "Then we're going back to the hotel for get ready to celebrate properly."

Something about the way he said it, and the wink he shot her as he walked back out to join the team, sent a shiver down her spine.

.🎥

By the time that they got back to the hotel, Max had managed to down another two gin and tonics, and Talia was a couple of glasses of champagne in. They weren't drunk, but the mix of alcohol and adrenaline was definitely giving them a buzz. Neither of them could stop smiling.

"You're coming out to celebrate with me, right?" Max asked suddenly as they walked into the room, as though it had just occurred to him that he'd never really invited her and just assumed that she was coming with him.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled. "I bought a new dress especially."

"You were expecting to be celebrating?" He asked.

She nodded. "I knew you could do it."

The words seemed to linger in the air between them. He was looking at her intently, fingers flexing at his sides like he was trying to remind himself to be still.

"Do you mind if I shower first?" She asked. "It'll take me a little while to do my hair after."

"Sure, go ahead." Max nodded. He kicked his shoes off, stripped out of most of his layers of team kit and flopped down on the bed as she headed off to the bathroom.

His phone was going off like mad. A mix of people offering their congratulations and Lando who'd taken it upon himself to organise the after party. Max replied to Lando quickly to let him know they'd be ready in an hour or so. Then he tossed the phone back down. He'd reply to everyone else later.

His thoughts were too consumed by the way Talia's lips had felt on his. The way her body had melted into his as he kissed her. It might've been captured from all angles and plastered all over the internet by the team and the media but it wasn't for them, it had just been went felt right in the moment.

The same way he wanted her there with him while he was celebrating.

When she came back out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel that only just reached the top of her thighs a few minutes later, it almost undid him there and then. He didn't know where to look, and rather hurriedly made his way into the bathroom. He stood under the spray of the shower willing himself to get it together and stop acting quite so weird.

But after all that time trying to convince himself that he was fine and he could be normal, he came back out to find her stood in front of the mirror styling her hair, and still wrapped in that tiny towel that he'd been trying so hard not to think about.

He took a breath, walked over to the mini bar and poured himself another gin and tonic.

"Do you want another drink?" He asked.

"Sure, I'll have whatever you're having. Thanks." She smiled. "Where exactly are we going anyway?"

"Uh... Lando was organising it. I can't remember which club he said. I think the same one we went to last year." Max told her, making them a drink each and carrying it over.

He walked up behind her and went to reach around her to put the glass down on the counter in front of where she was standing. As he did so, his chest pressed into her back, his hand automatically falling on to her waist as he stood up straight and he lingered... just for a second.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Her heart pounding in her chest. There was a quiet clink of glass as he put his own drink down next to hers. His other hand dropping on to her waist, pulling her back a fraction closer to him and her breath hitched.

"You know... I think I might be the luckiest guy in the whole of Vegas tonight." He murmured.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, his breath brushing over the skin as he spoke, his lips tantalising close to her skin as he spoke.

"Oh really?" She questioned. "Why's that?"

"Because I just won the championship and I've got the prettiest girl in the whole of vegas here to celebrate with me." He said softly.

"We're not going to be doing much in the way of celebrating if you don't start getting ready." She joked.

He took a breath, hesitated for a second. The hand that was resting on her hip tightening its grip on her towel a little. "Maybe I had a different kind of celebration in mind?"

His words were absolutely dripping with suggestion, and the way his eyes locked with hers in the mirror had her weak at the knees and already leaning back against him.

"And what does the world champion have in mind exactly?" She smirked.

A slow smile spread across his face as he realised that he wasn't being told to keep his hands to himself. She wanted this just as much as she did.

"Been thinking about kissing you again since the podium." He murmured, lips dragging down her neck as he pulled her more firmly back towards him.

Her body melted into his. A quiet whimper escaping her as his lips and teeth nipped at the skin of her neck, her head dropping back against his shoulder to give him better access. He couldn't take his eyes off their reflection in the mirror. She flush on her cheeks, the way she leaned back into his touch... her towel riding further up her thighs.

She looked like sin, and he wanted nothing more than to ruin her.

.🔥

His lips were all over her neck, nipping at her skin in a way that was almost certainly going to leave a mark but she simply didn't care. The hand that had been splayed across her stomach, holding her tightly against him, slid into the opening of her towel, his palm meeting her bare skin and sending a wave of desire through her.

"Look at you." He murmured in her ear, bringing her attention back to the sinful reflection in the mirror infront of them. "All flushed and worked up and I've barely even touched you yet."

He was right. She looked at herself in the mirror, cheeks red and eyes wide. A trail of marks he'd left down her neck, his hand disappearing under her towel. He stood behind her, eyes dark with lust and looking like was ready to ruin her in the most delicious way.

"You want me to touch you?" He murmured, hand toying with where the towel was secured. "You out here walking around in nothing but this stupid little towel hoping I'd finally snap and give you what you want?"

"Please, Max." She nodded, pressing herself back against him. It hasn't been entirely on purpose, she maybe hadn't expected him to snap quite as quickly as he had, but she'd definitely been thinking about since long before he kissed her.

He unfastened the towel and it dropped to the floor at their feet with a satisfying thud. It left her stood completely naked, trapped between him and the mirror. His eyes devouring her reflection in a way that made everything inside her clench.

His hands slid over her skin, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her chest. They left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, sent a shiver down her spine.

"All those people watching you dance like that the other night... but I'm the only one that gets to see you like this." He smirked. "A special treat, just for me."

"Just for my winner." She panted, his hand sliding slowly down her stomach.

"Look at you." He murmured again. "All worked up, desperate for me to touch you. Want me to touch you here, darling?" He asked as his hand sliding slowly lower down her stomach.

"God, please Max." She whimpered, adjusting her stance to spread her legs a little for him. As she did so she realised she could feel him hard against her back, the way she moved making him stutter a little as she ground back into him.

His eyes stayed focused on the mirror, watching as his hand trailed lower down her body. His fingers dropped to her thighs, tracing slow tearing patterns against the soft skin that had her shifting restlessly against him.

"So worked up already." He murmured against the skin of her neck. "It's not just me that been thinking about this, is it?"

"Max, please." She gasped out as his fingers crept hire. "Need you to touch me. Please."

She saw the smug smirk on his face in the sinful reflection in front of her. She'd probably have kicked him in the shin for looking quite for proud of himself had she not have been completely taken aback by the sensation of him suddenly running his fingers through the slick mess at the apex of her thighs.

"Fucking hell." He let out a groan that almost sounded like he was in pain. "All this, for me?"

"You looked...." The words were punctuated by a gasp as his fingers found her clit. "So good on that podium and celebrating with the team."

"Think the way I'm celebrating now might be my new favourite." He murmured, lips brushing over her neck again. "Bet you look so pretty when you cum, shall we find out?"

She let out a strangled moan, hips grinding down as he slid two fingers into her, thumb circling her clit.

"Fuck.... Max." She choked out, the sensation overwhelming. She was almost embarrassed by the state of her reflection in the mirror, her hands gripping at his strong arm that was wrapped sound her waist to keep her upright. She was almost embarrassed by how completely fucked out she looked already and he'd barely touched her, but she also couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Oh god... right there." She moaned as his fingers thrust into her at just the right angle.

"So sensitive." He murmured. "You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock." He hips jerked, grinding against her ass of their own accord as he said it and she let out another desperate sounding whimper.

"Shall I make you cum like this?" He asked. "Or bend you over the bed and make you scream my name so everyone knows how I'm celebrating?"

He smirked as he felt her clench around his fingers. "Second one it is then."

He pulled his hand away and she let out the neediest whimper that she had ever heard at the sudden loss of his touch. She didn't get time to protest. He spun her around so fast it almost made her dizzy, lips pouncing on hers like he was starved.

It was so much more intense than the kiss at the podium earlier that day, the intensity of it sending a buzz through her veins. His strong hands gripped her hips, picking her up like she weighed nothing and carrying her across to the bed.

Her legs locked around his waist as he carried her, and she couldn't help but rock herself against his bulge as she searched desperately for some kind of friction. His step faltered for a second, a quiet groan slipping from his lips and muffled by hers.

His phone buzzed repeatedly on the night stand. A dozen missed calls from the people he was supposed to be celebrating with wanting to know where he was. He didn't pay any attention to it. The celebration he was currently engaged in a thousand times more appealing than a night out in a club. He'd get there when he was done, they'd wait for him. It was his party.

He set her down at the edge of the bed, and the minute her feet touched the floor she had he hands on the waistband of his shorts and boxers, yanking them down his legs like they had absolutely no time to spare. He kicked them off when they reached his ankles, turning his attention back to her.

"Better than champagne." He murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

Then he spun her around so she was facing the bed with her back to him, the two of them still visible in the mirror that she'd been stood in front of earlier. One hand grabbed her hip, pulling her back towards him, the other between her shoulder blades pushed her shoulders down until her forearms were braced against mattress.

She leaned back a bit more, pressing into him needing in an attempt to get him to do something, and it worked. He grasped his aching length, dragging it through her slick a couple of times in a way that had her gasping, before he pushed into her achingly slowly.

"Oh... oh my god... Max." She moaned out.

"Fuck... you feel so good." He groaned, pulling back and thrusting into her harder this time. His pace slowly building.

She let out a particularly filthy moan as he hit just the right spot, and she sincerely hoped the rest of the team that were staying on this floor were already at the club because if not they were going to know exactly why their champion was so late showing up to his own party.

Her cries were sort of muffled by the duvet as she dropped forward, face pressed into the bed sheets. He continued to hammer into her with some incredibly athletic stamina so she couldn't even manage to catch her breath. Then his hand found its way back between her thighs, fingertip grazing over her clit again and it was so good it was like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

Her legs were trembling, she was babbling absolute nonsense as she clenched around his length. Her body wound tight like a spring as he continued to thrust into her.

"You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" He asked in her ear. "Let everyone hear how good it is?"

"Fuuuck..." she groaned into the duvet, hands twisting into the bed sheets for something to ground herself as her orgasm washed over her.

Max let out his own broken moan, and with a couple more erratic thrusts he was hurriedly pulling out and spilling over her back. The two of them silent for a moment except for their ragged breathing as they tried to compose themselves.

He placed a sloppy kiss on her shoulder. "Best celebration ever." He declared.

She couldn't say anything, couldn't actually form a sentence. Her knees bucking as she leaned against the bed.

"I think I might need another shower after that." She joked eventually.

She caught sight of his grin in the mirror.

"I'd say I'd come and help you but we're late enough as it is." He laughed.

"Maybe tomorrow?" She smirked, straightening up to walk to the bathroom.

"Now that, sounds like a great idea." He grinned.

Tag list: @littlewhiterose @dontsupressthejess @idontknow0704 @vinylphwoar @katyniss

[hrtfilm]

𓆩 a man with no soul 　────　 sam winchester. 𓆪 ⠀ navigation ⠀🫎 ⠀ pinned masterlist .ㅤ ওㅤ

sam sacrificed himself when he was lucifer’s vessel. when he came back he was off. you noticed his spark was missing, but — what’s matter? he acted pretty much the same, and a little spicer on the side ‘specially in bed.

ཊ soulless!sam, afab!reader, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut — hurt/comfort, crying, kisses, imissedyou(s), teasing, oral, edging(?), unprotected sex (wrap for u tap u sillies), pinv, slight aftercare. ཉ no joke i’ve been working on this for six days trying to get the layout and the actual work down. wc. 2.6k

sam did the noble thing (he thought, without thinking about you), he accepted lucifer as a vessel, because the bound rule was that an angel needed consent to be allowed inside the body — to take full control of.

it had been three months since he jumped in the cage, you occasionally had a chat with bobby, although dean? he escaped the life of hunting, so even when you tried it would go to voicemail. and for awhile it was consistent never giving up, but he would never pick up. so you gave up, found a different man, who contradicted every thing that sam was typically repulsed by.

loud music, going to carnivals, no studying.

that only lasted so long, for you were still stuck on the loss of sam, whom you planned on marrying when the two of you got older. you should’ve known better than to let that foolish idea corrupt your mind, it was just the sweet talk of after sex that night. you missed his touch, and you missed touching him. your heart constantly ached at the thought of sam in hell, rotting in a cage, some nights you felt pathetic. like stupidly pathetic, everyone else had moved on, yet you were stuck. time flew past you, and you fell into a crevice of the same things every single day. research, breakfast, occasionally call bobby, lunch, research, dinner and research than bed. you’d been researching how to bring sam back from hell.

like that would be laying around anywhere one the web, occasionally, you tried to pray for castiel, for an answer. radio silence from all corners through and through, dean had simply given up (or from what you were given, you assumed he followed through with sam’s promise. and bobby? he was hurting, just wouldn’t stop him from hunting though). it was a quiet night, your finger’s skillfully moving across the keyboard, hitting dead ends inside of already dead ends, the doorbell rang. who in their right minds would be ringing the doorbell at four at night, no one.

cautiously you opened the door, after securing the chain. you blinked in shock, you had to be hallucinating, or dreaming. you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes, but low and behold, in all it’s beauty; sam. you let out a sharp gasp, staring. “what are you?” you spat harshly, you wanted to be eager about seeing your boyfriend after those three months of him being away from you, but he broke out of lucifer’s cage, he couldn’t do that. not even lucifer himself was about to be free from the cage without the seals being broken.

sam wouldn’t be the acceptance there. “it’s me, baby.” he muttered sweetly, the words were just a replication of what the old sammy would say. this couldn’t be sammy.

you’d died on that hill when he tried to step closer, even with the door chained to the wall, you still had your hand clenched around a knife, ready to stab if need, sam taught you that move. if you were alone, in a motel, chain up the door before opening it, and have a weapon behind the door, ready at the go, “and put the knife down, you know it’s me.” you were in a repusled-shock when he said that. but anything could know that trick. it was for safety, “how do i know your sammy? my sammy?” “well first; sammy is a chubby twelve year old boy. it’s sam. second, i’ll do all the things to prove it’s me, just open the damn door.” your eyes fell into microscopic slits of skepticism, before hesitantly closing the door, just to open it fully, searching sam up and down.

“can i come in?” he said, amused, but not amused at the same time. your stare was distance, mesmerized by him, his entire — everything.

it’d been three months of sam rotting in hell, and you rotting on earth. ‘nd now — now he’s back, absently you stepped the the side, a simple gesture that invited him inside the motel, the one you’d very obviously been holed up in too long, clothes scattered all over the place, on the messy bed, your cute li’l underwear tucked comfortably under the covers, just enough for someone to see it. not on purpose; but because you had became so emotionally devoid of anything, you refused to pick up your clothes, or anything, “sorry.” you murmured, looking at the room again, slightly embarrassed.

you were repulsed with yourself,

sam? pulling blanks, before patting you on your back. “‘it’s okay.” the touch sent a jolt down your, the familiar hand touching your back — it was shocking the gentle remind of he just got back from lucifer’s cage in hair, hung flimsily in the wind, tears built in your eyes, sam noticed, “hey, don’t cry.” he muttered, the words a facade be cause in reality? he didn’t feel a thing. like his emotions had been put on mute. it’s not like he could drop a bomb on you like that, so he flitted around the basis of the old sammy. the one who could feel, almost like a condom.

“i thought you were a goner.” you sobbed; and ugly cry, the one you had refused to let out when you lost him, “i watched you jump in the hole ‘nd there was nothing i could do—” sam’s large hand’s brought your head to his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around you.

“hey,” he whispered softly, “don’t get all emotional now. ‘m here.” you nodded into his chest, the tears soaking the front of his flannel. you lifted your head up, your eye glistening with the tears. “there’s my girl.” he murmured softly, his words only a seeming testimony to his love that seemed to stretch so wide for you. his thumb swiped away the falling tears, the action never failing to make you smile. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, all the way up to your mouth, the hand that once cradled your head going to cup your cheek as the two of you indulged into a passionate, sloppy, kiss.

sam pulled away, the only thing connecting your mouths was the string of saliva on his tongue, you let out a soft gasp as the tension of his lips against yours broke apart. “missed you. ‘nd your lips, ‘nd the way you taste.” he muttered, low and sultry. his hand fell from your cheek, sliding down to your pants.

he looked at you with hardened eyes; a silent ask to continue, you sent him a curt nod, a smirk broke from his lips, “atta baby.” sam had a steady grip on your hip as he guided you backwards onto the bed, your bodies making a ‘plop’ as you fell onto the bed. he let out an empty chuckle as his eyes caught the cloth underwear peaking out mischievously from your bed covers, “ah,” he tsked lowly, “what happened to cleaning up after your self, baby?” it was a shame, he thought to himself.

but did he care? no. the sex for sam was meant to be a void that had once carried something within him, that was snatched. and he didn’t know what; besides the fact all he felt was cold, detached from every emotion, like the nerves had been severed from the bud. “i forgot too.” “i can tell.” he cocked back quickly, his head dipped low, shifting himself to kiss your soft lips, his teeth tugging gently at your bottom lip as he pulled away, pulling a gentle moan from your lips.

sam let out a groan of pleasure from the soft noise he managed to draw out from you, “ah, you’re always so easy.”

your bottom lip puckered out, “no ‘m not.” “yes you are.”

you rolled your eyes at him, keeping your lip puckered and parted, like you were out of breathing as you watched sam’s hands going to unbutton your jeans. he let out a breath of relief when he pulled them down to your ankles, letting you kick them off. “still looks good.” he nearly busted in his pants right there; but he wasn’t a stuck up-snobby teenage boy. he knew better. even if you looked oddly good, with your cunt contained by the flimsy cloth. which separated his hands from going in on your clit, so rather, he cupped the source of your heat, his thumb pads circling the clothes clit, taking in the dampness of your underwear. “oh, your needy, ain’tcha?” he hummed goadly.

you let out a pleasured gasp, “sam—” you hadn’t felt the way he touched you in three months. and now? he seemed more ready then ever to deliver what you craved the most to you on a golden platter. “it feels s’good.” another gasp as he massaged your clothed cunt, you licked your bottom lip, an instant moisturizer.

“i can make it feel better.” he whispered too you, each and every word was tantalizing, a fire set ablaze that had been unkempt for so long. sam slipped off the bed, the dip in the bed disappearing, “sam what’re you—” he grabbed ahold of your ankles, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed. you couldn’t help but let a soft giggle of amusement shake from your lips. even with his simple kneading of your clothed cunt, you were already boarding on edge.

those clumsy boys had desensitized his pretty li’l partner. it was a shame, they taught you how to finish to quickly. sam though? loved the chase. but now he couldn’t have that because of those cloddish not knowing how to function with a delicate body like yours. sam’s hand pulled your underwear off, pulling it roughly over the curve of your ass, his padded thumbs going to embrocate your pretty little ass, not so delicately.

sam gutturalized as he saw your bare cunt, he hadn’t seen his pretty baby in three months, in counting too! his hands spread across your knees, forcing them apart. “don’t be shy.” he muttered, dipping his head in between your thighs. his tongue stuck out, flattening against your cunt, you immediately laid back down, “oh fuck.” you let out a pathetic whine, squeezing your eyes shut.

he pompously grinned at you. “you like that?” sam licked a wide stripe against your clit, nudging his nose inbetween your slick folds, god — you could’ve exploded on site if they stuck any deeper, he let out a muffled tsk when he felt the breeze of your head going over his hair, to guide him.

he didn’t need guiding. not around your parts, he knew ‘em to well, “i got it.” he said, splaying his hands across your upper thighs as you trembled desperately for a release.

“needa cum,” you whined affectionately at sam’s skills, your hands itching to run your fingers through his hair, to guide him to the right places, but he had his own way of doing things, discovery channel style. your cunt throbbed violently against his tongue, as he slowly licked away at your sanity, letting his mouth flood with your salty-sweetness.

“hold it.” he muttered, his breath shuddered against you, causing you to let out another giggle. “sam!” you exclaimed, excitedly. it’d been ages since someone has made you feel so good with just their tongue. sam pulled away, wetting his lip; your taste corrupting his mouth. “i think your ready, are you?” he asked, rhetorical question of course. you were ready, you always were ready. sam had already dropped his pants after standing up straight, throwing them in a pile of your already dirty clothes. sam pressed his body closer to yours, his hand going to the back of your head, making you crane up at him. “y’so pretty.” he said with pleasure, before pushing you back onto your back. sam grinned with pleasure as he aligned himself along your slick folds, still having a twinge of your aftertaste surfing through his mouth, only firing him up even more.

“thank you.” “your welcome.” he grinned. his tip kissed your cervix with every thrust. your back arched as he repeatedly slammed against your throbbing walls, with a sickening squelchy, wet noise as your skin slapped against one another. sam was positioned ontop of you, his thumb pad running along your bottom lip as you mewled with every lewd thrust, “atta-fuckin’-baby.” he said raspily against your ear, the breath tickling you. sam sat up slightly, hand pressing down on your hip to keep you still, his length still swallowed by your cunt, and with every thrust, the closer you breached your release. but no, you couldn’t unwind that fast. no. you had to hold on, just for a bit longer.

no matter how monstrous is cock actually was, your mind growing hazy while you held his length in a tight death grip while he skillfully teased you. you could’ve sworn it was a dream, under all that haze. and you didn’t want it to be.

you needed for this, for sam to be real. or you were going to go clinically insane. “taking it so good.” he said, without a second thought, sam’s hand holding your wrists in a vice, something stable to hold onto while he brutally fucked any sense out of you. as the rough thrusts filled your thoughts with dirty ones, sam slowly worked his hand down to rub your bud as his length stretched you out.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, the relief coming to an end, as you came all around his cock, sam let out a groan of release as he felt your sticky remains wrap around his cock, acting as lube as he kept with the frantic movements, your hips rolling against yours, you were dazed out of it by the time sam had pulled out of you, only to finish on your stomach. he’d always found the pull out trick to be risky, but now? not a care in the world as his hand stroked his length, stringing his cock dry of it’s juices, all onto your stomach. you could’ve came again with sam’s promiscuous actions, if only you weren’t half drained of your energy.

sam wrenched his way out of you, leaving your folds with a squelching pop, he looked around for a cloth; settling on a ragged shirt old to wipe the cum from your stomach. the next thing you remember is being propped against sam’s shoulder, his arm circling ‘round your body, the cover molding around yours and sam’s hips, you were quiet, ready to sleep as sam stared off; you didn’t think much about it, sense you were ready for sleep anyways, your thoughts dying out a sleep called for your body.

your eyes slowly shut, succumbing to sleep, “night.” sam whispered, reaching over to turn off the light. you slept peacefully, while sam couldn’t sleep at all, an empty void. ever since he was raised from perdition, he didn’t feel the same. whoever ripped him from the fiery pits of hell didn’t do very well.

whatever they did? left a whole so big that he didn’t know how to feel. he wasn’t even supposed to come and visit, per his grandpa’s (samuel’s orders), and sam chose not to visit dean. sam didn’t want to stay way from you, but still. he did. until he didn’t, so he made up a fake case. fake excuses, just for you. old sam would tell himself, he did it because he loved you so dearly, newer sam? he didn’t know why he did. he just did. maybe it was a trauma response to cut off all emotions he ever had, but you. you he just had to be around. it was primal that he had to be beside you, his thumb mindlessly dragged across your back.

[miserablemuffin]

Okie dokie so I did a fic on how Jason and Roy met and it got me thinking, how did the other couples of Batfam get together?

So for Cass and Steph I was thinking the trope of one thinks they’re dating and the other one doesn’t have a clue. It could be either Cass being oblivious and Steph thinking they’re dating or vice versa. Like literally either way would work and I think it’s perfect for them. Like Cass not really sure when they began dating but just decides to roll with it, Steph, who’s a really touchy person just thinks it totally normal that her and Cass hold hands, hug and cuddle all the time. They’re bonding. Flip it on its head and you have Cass who is super confused with the idea of female friends and assumes Steph is acting in a normal manner. Yes Bab does not act like this with her but that’s because Babs is older. Steph, who thinks Cass just wants things to go slowly doesn’t mind the not kissing bit and thinks she’s doing an amazing job as this is her first relationship.

Now Tim and Kon aren’t really a thing just yet in my fic but this is how their fic would go. Kon is kinda like only three years old so he’s still learning things. So he watches this documentary on birds and he sees that the bird keeps giving shiny things to this other bird and he’s like so that’s how I flirt with Robin. So he then proceeds to give presents to Tim because he’s a bird and normal flirting just won’t work on him. But like I’m talking giving Tim a tree instead of flowers and like giving him the biggest diamond anyone has ever laid their eyes on. That’s how their love story starts.

Then of course you have Kara and Babs. How do they get together? Well Kara does not beat round the bush so she’s blunt about her feelings, it’s the kyrptonian in her, so she tells Babs straight up that she loves her. Babs, who was running on two hours of sleep and the Batfams shit, said, and I quote, “Marry me?” In panic and delirium. She then says she has to go and wheels calmly away while chanting shit shit shit. Kara just nods and flies away to tell Lois and Clark that she’s getting married. Do they actually get married…? I’m still on the fence. ALSO THIS WAS GOT FROM THIS COMIC OF KLANCE ON TIKTOK BY THE USER sianwine https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNd91pkN4/ THATS THE LINK TO THE TIKTOK!!!! ALL THE REST IS ORIGINALLY SOURCED IDEAS BUT THIS HC WAS THIS!!!

Last but not least Bruce and Selina. They’re on and off so much that Bruce isn’t even sure when they’re good or not. Selina loves him, she does and she wants to be his someone full time but there’s something that’s stopping her. Bruce never says I love you first and it bothers her. Until one day she actually take notice of this tapping on her hand, she always known that Bruce does it, he’s done it since the beginning of their weird relationship but she finally realises that it’s not just some random tapping, it’s morse code. And he’s tapping out I love you. All this time he’s been tapping I love you. Let’s just say a ring is soon put on her finger.

Bruce and Talia is not a couple in my fic but I love them so they’d be like swapping Damian back and forth and like doing the whole divorce parent thing, except they’re both stupidly in love with each other so they’re idea of flirting is bickering back and forth about Damian and then getting off topic. Damian now knows to pack a book when they’re swapping him cause their conversations go on for hours. Then one weekend Damian is at the Kent’s and they have no reason to really meet each other…except ason hasn’t seen Talia in a while. So then Jason gets swapped back and forth, who’s very confused and was in the middle of his toast when B abducted him. Then one day Talia’s tire bursts and she goes back to the manor and around eight months later she leaves the manor and goes back to the league (to get all her stuff to maybe move in.)

Omg I nearly forgot Ivy and Harley. Both freshly out of prison and struggling to get their lives together move into the same apartment. They live on top of each other and Harley works at night at her rage room that she made herself that’s quite successful. Ivy works from home for now so when ones asleep the others awake. You can hear everything in those apartments and since they’re on top of each other they both hear their music. Harley likes to play her music loud to drown out her thoughts and Ivy blasts rain sounds so loud that Harley hears them when they’re not playing. So one of them changes their WiFi’s name to:

AprtmtNo.12Urmusicis$h1t

AprmtNo.24UrRainSoundskikemyP1$$

Queue this going on back and forth but they progressively get more flirty as they begin to fall for each other and then boom one day they meet and they’re like holy shit.

That’s what how I think every ship pans out, I might write fics for these, I might not. Thought I’d share :)

[popcornpoppypop]

The Best Boy

Summary: Jess and Robby are forced to say goodbye to the best boy.

Warnings: Death of a pet, talk of cancer and chemo, description of euthanasia, ANGST!

A/N: I told you the next one was going to hurt! Fun fact, I cried while I wrote this, so prepare yourself. I was a vet tech for many years and had to have the euthanasia conversation too many times; I didn't even have to think when I wrote that section. Just know that your fur babies are loved by all vet staff, and we give them all the cuddles and treats when it's their last visit. It's an honor to have helped them over the rainbow bridge.

Jess walked into the house, bags in her hands. Roger was walking next to her, observing her.

“Come on, lumpy boy.” Jess smiled. She made quick work of putting the groceries away. She gave him a treat and scratched his head. She turned at the sound of the door closing. She watched as Roger lifted his head but made no attempt to get up.

“Hey, what gives?” Robby came in to find Roger lying on the kitchen floor. “You okay?” He looked Jess over, concerned the dog hadn’t moved because something was wrong with her.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Jess looked at Roger, concerned. “The vet did a biopsy on that lump on his chest. She thinks it’s just a fatty mass. I don’t know. He’s not feeling well.” Jess bit at her fingernails.

“Yeah, he’s off.” Robby bent down and scratched his ears. “I’m sure it was just the excitement of being at the vet. Don’t worry until we have the results.” Robby stood back up and pulled Jess in, kissing her cheek.

“Easier said than done,” Jess mumbled.

Jess couldn’t stop thinking about it. All she could see was the lump on his chest. He was more tired than she had seen her. She had called her vet more times than she wanted to think about, begging for the results. She hated how crazy she was acting, but he wasn’t just a dog. He was her lifeline. He kept her alive.

It all happened so fast. Most things do, at the end.

“Dr. Robby, it’s Jess. She sounds pretty upset.” Princess said, handing him the phone. Robby grabbed it with more force than he meant, shooting an apologetic look to Princess.

“Jess? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Roger! H-he’s vomited three times today, I can’t get him up! He won’t get up!” She sobbed.

“Okay, take a deep breath for me. You need to take him to the emergency vet, the one on Penn. I’ll meet you there, okay?” Robby did his best to keep her calm. He knew there was no way she could.

“Okay, okay. I’m going right now. I can’t do this!” She sobbed.

“I know. But you have to be there for him now. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Robby hung up.

“Everything okay?” Princess asked.

“Nope.” He sighed as he dialed the one person he knew would drop everything for a dog.

“Why the fuck are you calling me when I’m sleeping?” Jack grumbled.

“I need you to cover me. Roger’s not doing well.”

“On my way.” Jack hung up the phone.

“Dana, Jack is coming in to cover me. I’m going to try to stay until he gets here. Might need to speed off.” Robby cleared his throat.

“Everything okay?” Dana put her hand on his arm. Robby felt his throat get tight.

“No. Roger’s sick.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh. He’s a tough little guy. You think it’s bad?”

“I think we might have to…he might not come home tonight.” Robby rubbed at his eyes.

“Cap, I’m so sorry.” She sighed. Robby nodded and ran off to busy himself. He was grateful that Jack didn’t live too far. He ran up, giving him a tight hug.

“Nothing hurts like losing a good dog, and he’s a great one.” Jack shook his head.

“Yeah. She’s not going to handle this well.”

“Call if you two need anything.” He nodded.

The drive to the clinic felt like a dream. His mind couldn’t focus on any one thought. It was a flipping Rolodex of memories. He pulled into the parking lot and ran in.

“My wife is here with our dog, Roger?” he asked the receptionist.

“She’s in room two. This way.” She brought him to the room.

Roger was lying on a dog bed the clinic had given him. Jess was lying on the floor next to him, gently stroking his fur. He was panting, straining every muscle to breathe. Robby knew what that meant.

“He started panting like this when we got here.” Jess sniffled. Robby sat next to her. Roger lifted his head slightly, wanting to acknowledge Robby but too tired.

“Hey buddy. You just relax.” Robby petted his back.

“They called our vet to try and get results. They didn’t have anything, so they called the lab and put in a rush. They took a sample and are looking at it here.  They’re going to do an ultrasound.” Jess’s voice shook.

“They’re going to do everything they can.” Robby rubbed her back.

“I don’t know what to do without him. He’s been with me for so long. I don’t remember what it was like without him.” She choked back a sob.

“We’ll figure it out. You’ll survive, I promise.” He pulled her into his side. A knock on the door had them tense up. A woman with a kind face came in with a tech.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Gilmore.” She introduced herself to Robby.

“Dr. Robinavitch. How’s he doing?” Robby asked, knowing the answer.

“So, I looked at the sample under the microscope and confirmed with my colleagues, unfortunately, it looks like he has a mast cell tumor.”

“Cancer? He has cancer?” Jess was frantic.

“Yes. Right now, I need to know if he has any other tumors internally. We’re going to use our Butterfly ultrasound to have a look. It’s not a great view, but it’ll give us enough information on how to move forward.” She noted.

“He could have more?” Jess looked to Robby.

“They could be on his organs. She’s going to see if that’s what’s causing his breathing.” Robby explained.

“Are you okay if we start?” Dr. Gilmore asked.

“Please.” Robby nodded.

The tech helped position Roger while the doctor moved the wand around his body and watched the iPad. She paused a few times, taking measurements. Robby was watching over her shoulder. He wasn’t familiar with canine anatomy, but he saw the mass and he knew that it was big. He tensed, and Jess’s head snapped to look at him.

“You saw something. What did you see?” She begged.

“Honey, I don’t know dog anatomy. I don’t know.” He took hold of her hand.

“Mrs. Robinavitch, it looks like Roger has a splenic mass. It’s quite large and is causing fluid in his abdomen.” Dr. Gilmore said.

“So, fix it!” Jess snapped.

“He has masses throughout his abdomen. At this point, it’s beyond surgical intervention. I’m so sorry.” Dr. Gilmore gave the tech the equipment and nodded for her to leave.

“No. So use medicine! C-chemo! Right? That’s what you do for cancer, chemo!” Jess was desperate.

“Honey-”

“No! Not yet! No, he was fine last week!”

“These types of tumors and cancer often show few symptoms until it’s too late. You didn’t miss anything. I’ve seen this more times than I’d wish to.” Dr. Gilmore said.

“So what? I just have to put him down?” Jess sobbed.

“It’s your decision. I would recommend euthanasia at this point, to minimize suffering.”

“He’s suffering? He’s in pain?” Jess suddenly felt more scared than she ever had.

“Yes. He’s in pain right now.” Dr. Gilmore nodded.

Jess couldn’t speak. He had done so much for her, did everything in his power to save her. Now, she had to say goodbye to help him. It felt impossible. It felt unfair.

“It’s the humane thing to do, Jess. It’s the only way to stop his pain.” Robby’s voice cracked.

“Okay. Okay, I don’t want him to suffer.” She sobbed.

“I’ll get everything ready for him. Please, take as much time with him as you need. Our tech will come in with papers to sign and go over the process.” Dr. Gilmore nodded and left.

Jess threw her arms around Robby, sobbing into his chest. Robby held her tight, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“It’s not fair…” She cried.

“Never is.” Robby sniffled. Another knock at the door made them jump.

“I’m sorry to disturb. My name is Maria, I’m just going to go over everything with you. Let me know if you need a break at any point. This goes at your pace, this room is yours for as long as you need.” A young woman in pink scrubs came in. She had a sympathetic look. She looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion dealing with death all day caused. Robby could recognize the look a mile away.

“We have a couple of options as far as remains go. Communal and private.”

“Private. He’s coming home.” Robby blurted out.

“Okay. I have a few urn samples that the cremation company offers. You can choose whichever you prefer.” Maria brought out a bucket with several urns. Jess looked over all of them. Nothing felt right.

“We can put him in something else later, Honey,” Robby told her.

“Right.” She whispered. She picked up a wooden box with an intricate flower carving on the top. “This one.”

“It comes with a plaque on it. Do you want to say anything special or just his name?”

“Just his name.” Jess winced.

“Okay.” Maria typed on her iPad. “I’m going to go over the process now. You can sit with him for however long you need. This is a doorbell to the treatment area. We’ll hear it back there when you’re ready to say goodbye.” She put a little button on the floor next to them. “I’m going to take him to the back and place an IV catheter. We’ll bring him right back to you. When you ring the bell, Dr. Gilmore will come in. She’ll have a few syringes with her. One will be clear, and that’s just saline flush; the white one is Propofol, and that’s just going to sedate him. He’ll be asleep, and he won’t feel anything. The last one she’ll have is pink, and that’s the Euthasol. It’s going to stop his heart. She’ll listen and confirm he has passed. You can sit with him for as long as you need. I’m going to check you out now, so when everything is all said and done, you can just leave. We ask you to ring the bell again, so we can come in and take care of him. No having to deal with anyone.”

“Jesus.” Jess sighed.

“Do you have any questions?” Maria asked.

“No. You explained it well. Thank you.” Jess nodded.

“Let’s get you checked out, and I’ll get him all set.” Maria nodded. Robby paid her and helped lift Roger off the bed. The small woman effortlessly lifted all sixty pounds of Roger and carried him to the back.

“You’re doing the right thing, Jess.” Robby ran his fingers through her hair.

“I know. But it hurts.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yeah. It does.” Robby sighed. She laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her.

“Okay, he’s all set.” Maria brought him back in. “He was a very good boy.” She smiled as she put him back on the bed.

“He’s the best.” Jess said.

“Maria, here’s the snack bin. Put a cupcake in it.” A tech handed a basket to Maria.

“Right, thank you, Sarah.” She nodded. “He can have whatever snacks he wants. It was one of our techs’ birthdays, so he gets a cupcake if he wants it. Chocolate too. There are goodbye kisses in there, cheese, tuna, and milkbones.”  She handed Jess the basket. “We’ll leave you be.” Maria gave a tight smile and left.

“That was nice, huh, Roger? Give you a cupcake.” Jess sniffled as she put the treat in front of his face. Roger licked at the icing, testing it before devouring it in one bite. Jess and Robby laughed.

“He was a good boy.” Robby nodded.

“He kept me alive for years. He saved me, not just the seizures.” Jess lay down, pulling Roger into her chest.

“He brought us together.” Robby cried. Jess reached up to him. Robby intertwined their fingers as he lay down next to them, Roger snug between the people who loved him the most. “He gave me the life I never thought I’d have.” He kissed Roger’s head.

“Me too.” Jess gave a watery smile.

“We should take a picture.” Robby pulled out his phone, taking a snap of them cuddled together.

“I don’t want to wait too long.” Jess sighed.

“Probably right.” Robby cleared his throat in an attempt to gain control of his emotions. He pulled himself closer to Roger. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for us, buddy. You’re a very good boy. Thank you.” He kissed his head.

“You are my best boy,” Jess sobbed into his fur. “My hero. You kept me together, and you took care of me so well. You care for my kids, too. I’m sorry I can’t save you the way you did for me too many times. I love you so, so much. Thank you.” Jess cried. Robby squeezed her hand.

Robby reached over and rang the bell. A few moments later, Dr. Gilmore came in.

“I’m just going to attach an extension to his catheter. You two don’t have to move.” She said as she reached over to his front leg and attached a tube. “I’m going to push some saline to make sure the catheter is still good.” She said as she pushed the clear liquid into his veins. “Okay, I’m pushing the propofol now. He’s going to start to fall asleep. He might snore, it’s normal.” She pushed the white liquid through the tubes.

Roger’s head grew heavy until it fell on Jess’ chest.

“You are such a good boy. You’re such a great dog.” She whispered into his ear.

“I’m going to push the Euthasol.” Dr. Gilmore said, as the pink liquid surged through the tube.

“Thank you, sweet boy. Thank you.” Jess sobbed.

“You did a good job, buddy.” Robby said, his voice tight. He felt Roger’s chest stop moving, his body stiff, quiet.

Dr. Gilmore put her stethoscope on and listened to his chest.

“He’s passed. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She said and left.

A sob ripped from Jess’ chest, pulling him close. She felt untethered in a way that was new and uncomfortable. She was on her own in a way she wasn’t used to. It was scary.

Robby held them both, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix this. They would just have to feel the pain. The only way out was through.

They lost track of time; they lay with Roger for what could have been fifteen minutes or two hours.

“Let’s go home. We can’t stay forever.” Jess sighed as she sat up. Robby climbed to his feet, helping her up.

“We’ll figure this out.” Robby kissed her cheek. He rang the bell as they left. The air was cold as they entered their new, uncertain world. It felt heavier.

One Year Later

Robby came bounding through the door, a big smile on his face. He slammed the door behind him by accident, sending Jess shooting to the ceiling from her position on the couch.

“What the hell!” She gasped.

“Get your shoes, we have an important date!” Robby said, tossing her shoes at her.

“What are you talking about?” She looked at him like he had lost his mind.

“Let’s go, we can’t wait!” He smiled.

“Okay! Chill!” Jess laughed as she put on her shoes. Robby dragged her out to the car and sped out of the driveway.

“Do I get a hint?” Jess chuckled.

“Nope.” Robby shook his head.

“Weirdo.” She scoffed.

They spent the car ride playing twenty questions, or at least Jess’s version, which was just her asking the same thing over and over. The car pulled up to a big barn-like building. The sign read Pennsylvania Service and Guide Dogs.

“What?” Jess whispered.

“They called me this afternoon. I put you on the list the day after Roger died.” Robby said, unsure if she would be mad.

“Oh.” She said. They sat in silence for a minute. “Let’s go see them, then.” Jess jumped out.

They walked into the building, and a receptionist smiled up at them.

“You must be the Robinavitch family! I’m Tina.” She got up and shook their hands. “We’re so excited to help you out. Your husband gave us a rundown of what you need, and we have the perfect match for you. She’s a little young, but she’s the smartest of her litter.” She smiled.

“I need a smart one. She’ll need to keep up with my kids.” Jess snorted.

“You have kids?”

“No, I’m a teacher. My last dog, Roger, used to help me teach.” Jess cleared her throat.

“It’s always hard, losing a service dog. It’s normal to feel off with your new one. Don’t feel bad. But she’s got a good personality. I don’t think you’ll have a hard time loving her.” Tina smiled as she led them into a big meeting room.

“I’m sure she’s great.” Jess gave a tight smile.

“I’ll be right back with her. Sit down, relax.” Tine said as she ran out of the room.

“It’s not going to feel the same. But she’s going to help us. It’s been a struggle without him, in more ways than one.” Robby rubbed Jess’ shoulders.

“I know. It feels wrong, I know that’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.” Robby kissed her forehead.

The door opened and Tina came in with a young and energetic red golden retriever. She had a sweet face that looked like she was smiling. She saw Jess and started wagging her tail.

“This is Betty.” Tina brought her over, handing the leash to Jess.

“Hello, sweet thing.” Jess hummed as she petted the dog. The puppy looked up at her happily, tail swishing as she melted onto the floor and rolling for belly rubs.

“She’s been in training since she was born. She was trained for epilepsy and seizure disorders. We’ll go over her commands with you.” Tina smiled.

“She’s adorable. The kids will be very excited.” Jess chuckled as she rubbed the dog’s belly.

“She’s already got a human name, too.” Robby smiled. “She was born the same day Roger left.” Robby whispered. Jess’s head snapped up to look at him.

“It’s true. When we saw your husband’s application for you and the date you lost your boy, we knew she had to be yours.” Tine nodded.

“Oh.” Jess whispered. She pulled Betty into a sit and scratched her head. “Did he send you? He knew I needed someone to keep an eye on me, huh?” Jess’s voice cracked.

“He knew you needed a partner in crime. I’m too responsible.” Robby chuckled.

“We’re going to have so many adventures, Betty.” Jess kissed her head.

[gyubvlin]

☀︎༄.°LAST FESTIVAL☀︎༄.°─── seungmin x reader x felix

synopsis: When you join the dance club in your final year of high school, you don’t expect to meet the sunshine boy who becomes your closest friend or the quiet one who somehow is comfortable around you. What starts as laughter and late-night hangouts turns into letters, unspoken feelings, and one dance that changes everything.

cw: strangers to lovers, love triangle, angst/comfort, classmates to lovers, violence (fight scene not graphic), mentions of blood, please lemme know if I missed anything!!!

wc: 12.8k its longgggg

☀︎༄.° a/n <3: hi lovelies and to anyone from the stay exchange this is heavily inspired by one of my favorite songs last festival by TWS I definitely recommend it.. god TWS songs are so writeable I swear...cant believe I'm writing over 1k ohemgeeee like you go lailaa... this is for my very lovely friendooo @imbaebi I LOVE LOVE LOVE THAT IM WRITING FOR YOU I hope you enjoy this...sorry for yapping anyway thank you so much @starlostastronaut for hosting this event its such a nice experience... enjoy my babesss ‧₊˚𓆉𓇼

MASTERLIST

“Sorry! My limbs have no sense of personal space!”

Felix bursts into laughter as you nearly fall backward—again—hands flailing like a windmill in distress.

You’re both in the practice room after school, the mirrors fogged with heat and afternoon sunlight.

The speakers blare some upbeat festival song that no one remembers the lyrics to.

You’re drenched in sweat and borderline delirious, but you’re smiling so wide it hurts.

It’s only been five days since you transferred, and somehow, Felix has already decided you’re his favorite dance partner.

Or at least, that’s what he tells you.

“You’re improving like crazy,” he says as you both collapse onto the wooden floor, sprawled out and breathless.

“I tripped over your foot.”

“Exactly. You’ve upgraded from random air to actual obstacles.”

You throw your water bottle at him. He dodges with a wheeze.

From the hallway, you hear the muffled buzz of the other clubs packing up. The sky outside the windows is gold-tinted and hazy, streaked with early spring clouds. The room is quieter now, music paused, just your breathing and your occasional bursts of laughter echoing off the walls.

“Why are you so good at this?” you ask, tilting your head toward him.

Felix smiles softly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Been dancing since I was little. When I moved here, the club helped me make friends.”

You nod. You understand that feeling.

He turns toward you suddenly, propping his head up with one hand. “And now you’ve joined, so I guess we’re even.”

You blink. “What?”

“I made friends through dance. Now you’re making friends through dance. See? Even.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it?” he grins. “Still worked, didn’t it?”

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “Thanks, Lixie.”

He turns bright red at the nickname. “Wait—where did that come from?!”

You’re giggling now, rolling onto your side, hugging your knees. “It suits you!”

He groans dramatically. “Don’t give me puppy treatment, I swear.”

“You are a puppy.”

“You’re a puppy!”

You both descend into a bickering mess again, limbs tangled and laughter echoing through the empty room.

-----

It’s been three weeks since you transferred.

Three weeks since you sat between two strangers in Class 3-B.

Three weeks since Felix smiled at you like you were something easy to love.

Now, he walks you to club after class like it’s habit. No big deal. You laugh with him about everything—how the cafeteria ran out of melon bread again, how your chem teacher says “um” thirty times per sentence, how your shoelace unties itself every time you spin.

You’re still not great at dancing. You still mess up the chorus every time. But Felix never lets you feel behind. He counts out the beats beside you, steps in sync, throws you a wink in the mirror when you get it right.

“Okay, that part was adorable,” he says one afternoon, mid-rehearsal, when you do the wrong move with such confidence he nearly chokes from laughing.

You shove his shoulder, breathless. “Stop! You’re gonna make me laugh again—”

“Good,” he grins, “I like your laugh.”

The words come out so casually that you freeze for half a second. Your cheeks flush. His eyes flick to yours, a little surprised that you reacted.

Then he blinks and gives you a crooked little smile. “Kidding.”

You smile back, but your stomach feels weird. Like it twisted too fast.

Back in the classroom after club, Seungmin walks in to grab a notebook he forgot.

The room’s mostly empty now, the sun glowing low and golden through the windows. You’re laughing at something Felix said again—your heads bowed close together at the desk where you first met.

Seungmin freezes in the doorway.

You don’t see him.

But he sees you.

You, with your hair half-up in a messy claw clip, your uniform wrinkled from practice, your smile wide and unguarded. Felix beside you, one arm draped on the back of your chair like it’s always belonged there.

Seungmin doesn’t know you. He’s never heard you say his name.

But somehow, just watching you laugh like that makes him feel like he missed something important.

Like he’s late to something he didn’t know he cared about.

He clears his throat.

You look up.

Your eyes meet for the first time.

He doesn’t say anything.

You smile.

Not the way you smile at Felix—this one’s smaller, curious, tilted like a question mark. The kind you give strangers who might not be strangers soon.

And before he can stop himself, Seungmin nods.

Just once.

And then he leaves, notebook in hand, heartbeat too loud in his ears.

He doesn’t know why he keeps thinking about that smile.

He doesn’t even know your name.

But that’s how it starts.

Quiet. Accidental.

Like a seed under the soil just before spring.

-----

The day Felix invites you to hang out with his friends is on a Wednesday.

Random, casual, no big deal. He swings his bag over one shoulder as you both walk out of the school danceroom and says

“We’re grabbing snacks at the convenience store. Wanna come?”

You blink. “With…?”

“My friends! The usual guys.”

You hesitate for a second. You’ve heard him mention their names—Jisung, Hyunjin, Chan, Lee know, Jeongin, and Seungmin—but you’ve never met them. Still, the idea of spending more time with Felix (and maybe making more friends) makes your tail -er, heart- wag just a little.

“Sure!” you chirp, “But I warn you, I talk a lot.”

Felix grins. “They’ll love you.”

He’s right.

The moment you arrive at the back of the convenience store parking lot, chaos ensues.

Hyunjin blinks. “Who’s the cutie?”

“I’m Y/N! I transferred this semester,” you say, instantly offering your hand like a golden retriever on espresso. “Are those shrimp chips?? I LOVE shrimp chips. Wait, are you Hyunjin? Your hair looks just like Felix described.”

Hyunjin lets out a laugh. “Okay, I like her.”

Jisung chokes on his drink. “How does she have more energy than... ME?”

You’re already plopping down next to the youngest one, Jeongin, who looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You must be I.N, right?” you beam. “You have the best laugh in school, I heard it in the hallway once. It made me laugh too.”

He goes bright red.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, grinning behind his hands. “You’re insane.”

“We should be best friends,” you decide instantly. “Is this your favorite soda? Cause I literally brought the same one. Is that fate?”

Jeongin cackles. “Felix, she’s me but louder.”

“I told you,” Felix says proudly, flopping down beside you.

You're too busy chatting with I.N to notice the quiet figure across from you.

Seungmin.

He’s holding a can of orange soda and pretending not to listen, but his eyes flick toward you every few seconds like they’re not sure where to land.

You notice him after a minute.

“Oh, you’re Seungmin!” you say, pointing with a grin. “We’ve never properly met, right?”

He blinks. Slowly. “I… guess not.”

You scoot a little closer. “I’ve seen you around, though! Oh, and right, I saw you the other day, I thought you were grabbing something from the dance room. You sit near the window, right? Do you always drink orange soda? ,”

He stares at you.

You wait, eyes wide with curiosity.

“…i guess i do,” he finally says.

You nod seriously. “I respect that.”

Felix nearly snorts his drink. “What kind of conversation—”

“I’m trying to get to know him!” you defend. “He seems emo.”

Seungmin looks away, biting back a smile. “I’m not emo.”

“You kinda are.”

“I’m just quiet.”

“So emo and humble.”

Jeongin wheezes. “She’s gonna eat you alive.”

Seungmin opens his orange soda and takes a long sip like he needs it to survive.

You keep chatting.

He keeps answering. Quietly. Bluntly. Almost shy.

But he doesn’t move away.

-----

It’s strange how fast things fall into place.

One week, you were just the girl who tripped over your shoelaces in dance club.

WeNow, you’re the one who reserves seats at lunch. You’re in the group chat. You share umbrella space with Jeongin, argue about cereal with Jisung, and bring extra hair ties for Hyunjin (I'm reminiscing hyujis long hair don't mind me) just because.

And Seungmin.

Seungmin doesn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way you greet everyone like it’s second nature. The way you always smile with your whole face. The way you talk to him, even when he doesn’t know what to say back.

Maybe it’s the fact that you never treat him like he’s “the quiet one.”

You just talk. Like it’s obvious he’ll listen.

“Seungmin,” you say one afternoon, leaning across the table at lunch. “If you had to choose between only eating oranges forever or never eating again—”

“Oranges forever.”

You blink. “Wow. That was fast.”

He shrugs. “I like oranges.”

“Noted,” you hum, scribbling something in your notebook.

“Wait—what is that?”

“Important data. For science.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re writing down everyone’s food opinions again, aren’t you?”

“I like knowing what to bring for everyone!”

“You’re insane.”

“Don’t act like you won’t eat the peach gummies I’ll give you next week.”

He says nothing.

You smile.

He blushes.

You don’t notice.

But Felix does.

-----

Later that week, you invite Felix over on a Sunday afternoon, casual as always.

“My sister is sleeping, but I made cookies!” you say brightly over the phone. “Come eat them before I do.”

He laughs. “Are you sure I’m not crashing family time?”

“I just told you she’s asleep.”

“You’re the one who needs supervision, not me.”

You grin. “Then hurry.”

It starts easy. Of course it does.

You sit cross-legged on your living room floor with a plate of half-burned cookies between you. Felix takes one bite and chokes dramatically.

“Oh my god—what did you do to these?”

“They’re a little crispy,” you mumble, cheeks puffed.

“They’re charcoal. You tried to poison me.”

“Fine! More for me.”

He grabs another one anyway.

Later, the two of you are sprawled on the couch watching some dumb variety show, your head resting lazily against the armrest, his legs folded under him like he’s been here a hundred times. You toss popcorn at his mouth every time someone on-screen screams. He catches three. Misses two. Laughs the whole time.

And it’s perfect.

Except when you go quiet.

“Y/N,” he says after a while, softer now. “You okay?”

You pause. Then smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“…nothing important.”

He tilts his head, gentle. “You’re a bad liar.”

You fidget with a pillow. “I’ve just been… weird lately. In my head, I mean.”

“Like stressed?”

“No, just—” You exhale. “I keep thinking about something. Or… someone.”

Felix straightens just slightly. “Someone?”

Your lips twitch. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb if it’s bothering you.”

You look at him then, and you really look—he’s sitting so close, eyes so kind, smile so familiar.

He’s always been this way with you. Always laughing, always catching you, always here.

But when you picture that flutter in your stomach—the one that hits you in the hallway sometimes, or when you catch someone’s gaze from across the room—

It’s not Felix’s face that comes to mind.

“…I think I’m confused,” you whisper.

He watches you carefully. “…Is it Seungmin?”

You blink. “…Huh?”

Felix laughs once. It sounds hollow.

“You talk about him a lot.”

“I do?” You say it too fast. Too guilty. You feel your ears go hot.

Felix nods, slower now. “Yeah. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your stomach flips. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s not—I'm not mad.”

He won’t look at you now. His fingers twist the hem of his sleeve, tight.

“I just thought…” he trails off.

You swallow. “Thought what?”

He smiles. But it’s the kind that hurts. “Doesn’t matter.”

You sit there in silence, the show still playing in the background, forgotten.

You nod, but the guilt clings to your chest like a fog.

When Felix leaves that night, you wave from the door like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still best friends who bake awful cookies and argue about soda flavors.

But when he walks away, his hands are in his pockets. His shoulders are lower. And he doesn’t turn around.

Inside, you close the door.

And find yourself thinking, not for the first time, about the way Seungmin looks when he smiles.

And how rare it is.

And how badly you want to see it again.

-----

Jeongin’s already waiting for you when you get to the roof.

He’s sitting on the ledge like he owns the place, legs swinging lazily, drinking banana milk like a gremlin in gym sweats. He waves when he sees you.

“About time, loser.”

“You texted me three minutes ago,” you say, flopping down beside him.

He shrugs. “Still late.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in it. The wind tugs at your hair, and the sun’s still soft enough not to burn. You stare ahead for a while, watching the city shift below the school building.

“Did something happen?” Jeongin asks suddenly.

You blink. “Huh?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

He mimics your voice, “‘I’m totally fine, I’m just daydreaming about whether or not my heart’s breaking or if I’m just overthinking again.’”

You shove him with your shoulder. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You go quiet. And Jeongin waits. Like he always does.

Finally, you sigh. “I hung out with Felix yesterday.”

“Yeah? You do that all the time.”

“Yeah but… it felt different.”

Jeongin doesn’t respond right away. Just sips his drink and hums.

You pick at the edge of your sleeve. “He was quiet. And I think I said the wrong thing. I didn’t mean to, but…”

“But?”

“I might’ve said something about Seungmin.”

Jeongin freezes mid-sip. “Oh.”

You look at him. “You knew?”

“Y/N.” He gives you a look. “I have eyes. And a brain. Of course I knew.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “It’s not like I meant to say it! I didn’t even realize I’ve been thinking about Seungmin so much until Felix said it—”

“But now you can’t stop thinking about it.”

You freeze.

He says it so casually. So gently. But it slices right through the noise in your head.

“…yeah,” you whisper.

Jeongin nods. Like he already knew that too.

“You know what’s the worst part?” you say. “I’m not even sure how Seungmin feels about me. Like—he’s quiet, and he’s nice, but I don’t know if it’s just polite-nice or Felix’s-best-friend-nice or—”

“Or ‘I’ve been watching you fall for someone else this whole time’ nice?” Jeongin finishes, softly.

You stare at him.

He shrugs. “He gets quiet when you’re around. But not in a cold way. It’s like… he wants to talk. But doesn’t know how. And when you laugh? He looks like it hurts.”

Your throat tightens.

“Of course Felix noticed,” Jeongin says. “He’s not dumb.”

“…I don’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know.”

The wind rustles a paper bag beside you. Your heart feels full and too small at the same time.

Jeongin nudges you gently. “For what it’s worth, I think Seungmin looks at you like he’s afraid to want anything.”

You blink. “What?”

He smiles, a little sad. “That’s how I knew.”

You don’t answer.

You just sit there beside your best friend, wind in your hair, unsure when everything got so complicated.

And why one quiet boy makes your chest ache this much.

-----

There’s something almost dreamlike about the last week of school.

The classrooms feel warmer somehow. Sunlight lingers on the desks longer than it should. Even the whiteboards are still covered in doodles and glitter marker goodbye notes, as if no one dares to erase anything anymore. Not when everything’s already disappearing.

It’s like everyone collectively agreed to pretend nothing is ending.

So instead, they cling to the moments. To each other.

To polaroids and promises and smiles that are just a little too bright to be real.

You’ve been carrying a camera around your neck for days. The little instant one Felix lent you, the one with the pink sticker still half-peeled on the corner.

“You’re not getting this back until I use up every single shot,” you told him.

He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Then make sure I’m in most of them.”

So you did.

Felix laughing, Felix mid-dance, Felix blowing a kiss to the lens like a menace.

Felix standing beside you, arms slung around your shoulder, the both of you sweaty and breathless after practice—something about the way he always looked at you through the corners of his eyes when you weren’t paying attention. Like he was memorizing things you hadn’t even said yet.

And then—

“Y/N! Say cheese~!”

You don’t even notice Jeongin’s beside you until his cheek is smushed against yours and the camera flashes. He’s grinning like a child, waving a tiny graduation gift bag in your face.

You laugh, loud and real. “Give me that photo.”

“Only if you promise not to crop me out this time!”

You take the photo anyway and slip it into your notebook, right next to Felix. Jeongin has become a permanent fixture in your orbit lately—bright, energetic, always giving you little snacks and calling you “puppy.”

Somewhere between the noise and the dancing and the too-loud music, you start to wonder if this is what happiness tastes like.

You don't notice how heavy your bag has gotten until it nearly slips off your shoulder from all the things people have stuffed into it—goodbye cards, little candies, polaroids, stickers, crumpled confetti that someone threw in your hair during lunch.

The school has never felt louder. Or quieter.

“Felix! Look!” you giggle, showing him a blurry picture of you and Jeongin making faces against the windows. “You can’t even tell whose mouth is whose.”

He bursts into laughter and practically folds over. “It looks cursed.”

But in the middle of it all—between your running and squealing and hugging and gift-exchanging—you see him.

Seungmin.

Leaning against the stairwell wall, one earbud in. Camera hanging around his neck. Watching.

He always has that look on his face lately. Like he’s trying to memorize a world he doesn’t quite belong in.

So you walk over.

Because you’re you.

And he’s… quietly everything you never expected.

“Hey, Min.” You grin, poking his arm. “You take good pictures, right?”

He looks up, startled. “Huh? I guess.”

“Good.” You hold out your camera. “I trust you with this. It’s for the memory wall.”

He blinks. “The what?”

You motion to the mural taped up near the lockers—a mess of polaroids, glitter pens, and messages written in five different languages. “You know, like those cheesy Kdrama moments? Everyone contributes one photo. You should take mine.”

There’s a pause.

Then, almost reluctantly, he says, “Okay.”

You hand him the camera and step back a little. “Tell me how to pose. Or don’t. I can freestyle.”

He almost—almost—smiles. “Try standing by the window. The light’s better there.”

You obey with a little hop and spin, hair catching the sunlight. “Like this?”

Seungmin lifts the camera, but his finger hesitates over the shutter. You’re not looking at him. You’re laughing at something Jeongin shouts from across the hall, your whole face lit up with affection.

He snaps the picture.

Then another.

And another.

“You’re only supposed to take one,” you call teasingly.

“You blinked,” he lies.

You skip over and peek at the photos developing in his hand. “You better not have made me look ugly.”

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

The words fall out of him so quietly you almost don’t hear them.

But you do.

You look up. And for one second—just one—you swear something passes between you. Something fragile. Something warm. Something dangerous.

Then Jeongin calls your name again.

Felix throws an arm around your shoulder.

And Seungmin goes quiet, handing you the photos without another word.

That night, you pin one of the pictures to your bedroom wall.

It’s not the best one. Your hair’s messy. You’re not even facing the camera fully.

But your smile is real.

And in the corner, slightly blurred, you can see Seungmin holding the camera—his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it.

You stare at it for a long time.

Then tape it up right beside Felix’s photo.

-----

The day before draduation day, seungmin approaches you. He wants to do a dance with you with the other talents before the sendoff.

“Are you sure?” you ask, breathless, hair stuck to your forehead as you stop mid-twirl.

Seungmin nods, eyes fixed somewhere behind you. Not at your feet, not at your hands, not at the way you just messed up the turn for the third time—just you. Always you.

“Yeah. I asked the student council. They said we could submit a dance performance for the open stage.”

You blink. “But why me?”

There’s a pause. Then:

“I just… thought it’d be nice.”

He shrugs, looking away. “To make a memory.”

That’s the kind of thing Seungmin says a lot lately. Things that sound like simple facts but carry the weight of everything left unsaid.

You nod. “Okay. Let’s make it beautiful then.”

The gym is half-lit by late afternoon sun, strips of gold sliding in through the windows like slow-falling confetti. Dust dances in the air between you, shimmering every time the speaker crackles to life.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips, cheeks flushed.

“You messed up the spin,” Seungmin says with a faint smile, tossing you a water bottle.

You gasp dramatically. “Rude. I was ethereal. I was floating.”

“You tripped over your own foot.”

“I was freestyling!”

He laughs—one of those rare ones that slips out before he can stop it.

It bounces off the empty gym walls and lands somewhere inside your chest.

You sip your water and look at him over the rim of the bottle. He’s crouched by the speaker now, fiddling with the phone connected to it, brows furrowed in focus.

He always looks like that—focused. Soft around the edges but quietly burning on the inside. You wonder if he knows how much you notice.

“From the top?” he asks.

You nod.

The music starts again. A slow piano—light, nostalgic. You recognize the song. One of those classic end-of-school ballads, about fleeting seasons and goodbyes no one was ready for.

You step toward each other.

Right hand in his left.

Your free hands hover mid-air.

You begin.

Step. Turn. Step. Slide.

It’s not a complicated routine, but every time you move in sync, it feels more delicate. Like glass.

When he twirls you, your skirt flares out like something out of a high school anime, and he catches your hand again just before you fall.

He always does.

Your hands brush.

Neither of you pulls away.

Somewhere in the doorway, Felix pauses.

He hadn't meant to stay. He just came back to grab his charger.

But the music stopped him.

No—you stopped him.

You and Seungmin, dancing in soft light like something out of a movie that Felix isn’t in.

He watches as Seungmin lifts you slightly in a quiet lift—his hand steady on your waist, yours curling into his shoulder.

You laugh. He laughs back.

And Felix—

Felix doesn’t breathe.

He clutches the strap of his bag like it’s the only thing holding him together.

You twirl again, and he catches the way your eyes crinkle, how your smile lingers longer when you look at Seungmin.

He never knew you looked like that when you smiled.

Not until now.

Felix turns and walks away, quietly.

He doesn’t want to cry.

But he does anyway.

Back inside the gym, you and Seungmin land the final pose.

Breathless. Close. Too close.

Neither of you moves.

You’re still holding his hand. His gaze flicks down to where your fingers touch, then back up to meet your eyes.

Your voice is soft. “That was the best one yet.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It was.”

You’re not sure if you’re talking about the dance anymore.

He leans in—

Your breath catches—

But before anything else can happen, Seungmin blinks like he just woke up.

And steps back.

The air shifts.

“I—”

He turns, grabs his bag quickly, like he's late for something. Like if he stays any longer, he might shatter.

“Wait, Seungmin—what’s—?”

He pauses by the door. Pulls out something from his pocket. A folded letter. Plain. Untitled.

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Don’t open it until tonight. Please.”

And then—he’s gone.

-----

The school courtyard is a blur of white button-ups, signed yearbooks, disposable cameras, and cheap cologne. Everyone’s laughing too loudly. Hiding the ache behind “let’s take one more!” and “we’ll still hang out, right?”

You have five Polaroids stuffed in your pocket. Three friendship bracelets on your wrist. And ink stains all over your skirt from people writing messages like “don’t forget me” and “remember physics?? lol.”

Jeongin’s dragging you around with a juice box in one hand and a marker in the other. “You haven’t signed Hyunji’s bag yet. And you still haven’t taken a picture with the math club!”

You grin. “You’re worse than my mom.”

“And yet you love me,” he says with a wink.

You do.

You love all of this.

Even the part of your heart that’s been fluttering in uneven rhythms since Seungmin handed you that letter you still haven’t opened.

“Hey.” A hand tugs at your sleeve. Felix.

He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You look happy,” he says. Voice tight, like he’s trying to sound light.

“I am,” you say, nodding slowly. “Are you?”

“…Sure.”

You hesitate. But before you can say anything more, an announcement cuts through the speaker:

“Everyone, please gather near the gym for the closing dance performance!”

Felix shifts. “That’s your cue.”

You nod again and walk backwards, mouthing, “Wish me luck!”

He gives a small thumbs-up.

And watches you leave with eyes like storm clouds.

Everyone’s gathered, clapping, cheering. The lights dim. The music starts.

You and Seungmin step onto the makeshift stage.

You're nervous—until he takes your hand.

The world hushes.

You dance.

And this time, it’s not just choreography.

It’s everything you never got to say, written in steps and twirls. It’s the way his eyes never leave yours, the way his fingers tremble just slightly against your palm, like he knows this is the closest he’s allowed to get.

The crowd disappears.

It’s just you.

Just him.

Just the weight of every almost that hangs between your shoulders.

Until the final spin.

You land in his arms.

Breathless.

He’s looking at you like he might kiss you.

And then—

A voice cuts through the silence.

“Seungmin.”

You both freeze.

It’s Felix.

He’s stepped forward from the crowd. His fists are clenched. His eyes are red.

“Can we talk?” he says.

The audience murmurs. Teachers try to wave him off, but he doesn’t move.

Seungmin sighs, letting go of your waist. “Felix—”

“You knew,” Felix says, louder now. “You knew I liked her. I told you.”

You stand there frozen, heart in your throat.

Seungmin’s jaw tightens. “I didn’t plan this—”

“Don’t give me that, I thought you were dancing with Ryujin.” Felix snaps, stepping closer. “You didn’t care. You saw us together all year and you waited until the last week to swoop in like a coward.”

The air crackles.

Someone whispers, “Are they seriously fighting over a girl right now?”

“Felix,” you say quietly. “Please, not here.”

But he doesn’t hear you.

He shoves Seungmin.

And Seungmin shoves back.

It’s not cinematic. Not slow-motion.

It’s real. Ugly. Messy.

They stumble across the floor—hands in shirts, fists in ribs.

People shout. Chairs scrape. A teacher yells something.

You run forward, grabbing Felix’s arm. “STOP IT!”

He freezes.

Seungmin wipes blood from his lip, chest heaving.

Felix turns to you—broken.

“You never looked at me the way you look at him,” he says.

And then he walks away.

Seungmin watches him go. Doesn’t follow.

He just looks at you, like he wants to say a thousand things but doesn’t know which one will make it better.

You can’t breathe.

-----

You sit on the edge of the stage, legs swinging over the side, graduation robes bunched around your knees.

Everyone else is outside, laughing, sobbing, taking blurry photos through tears and disposable camera lenses.

You? You’re holding Seungmin’s letter in your hands like it’s a live wire.

You’d forgotten it in your bag. Until now.

But after the fight—after the way he looked at you, then looked away—you had to know.

So here you are. In an empty gym.

With nothing but the echo of music that never finished.

The envelope is creased and soft from being carried around too long. It just says your name on the front. Neat handwriting. Slightly tilted.

You open it.

Inside:

A single sheet of paper, folded in half.

The writing is cramped near the top, like he started small and didn’t expect to keep going.

You unfold it.

And read:

Y/N,

I don’t know when you’ll read this. Maybe tonight. Maybe never. Maybe you’ll find it in your drawer in ten years and laugh. Or cry. Or forget.

I tried so hard not to feel this way about you.

At first, I thought you were just Felix’s new friend. You were loud and warm and always laughing at the wrong parts of stories. You made everyone feel like the main character, and I hated how much I wanted you to look at me like that.

Then you did. Once. Twice. Every day.

You and I... we weren’t meant to be anything, right? Not when Felix got there first. Not when I kept pushing you away.

But you still kept looking at me like I mattered.

That ruined me.

I don’t want to be the reason you lose him. I don’t want to be the villain in anyone’s story. So I’ve stayed quiet.

But this letter? This is mine. Just mine.

And if you're reading it, I guess that means it’s okay to finally say it:

I fell for you.

And I never figured out how to stop.

Please don’t hate me for it. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

— Seungmin

P.S. You dance beautifully. You always do.

You read it again. And again.

Your hands start to tremble.

And for the first time all day—you cry.

Because he loved you.

And he never let himself want you out loud.

And now… it’s too late.

The hallway lights flicker on outside the gym. Someone calls your name from the distance.

But you don’t move.

You just sit there with the letter in your lap, holding the version of Seungmin that only ever existed in those quiet, unread words.

-----

It’s been three days.

Three whole days since graduation.

Since the dance.

Since the fight.

You’ve read the letter more times than you can count. Folded and unfolded it like it might give you different answers if you held it at a new angle. But it doesn’t.

And you still haven’t called Seungmin.

Or Felix.

You’re stuck in the in-between.

Waiting for a sign, maybe. Or the courage to admit what you already know.

That’s when your phone rings.

You don’t recognize the number—but something tells you to answer.

“…Hello?”

“Y/N?”

It’s Bang Chan.

And he does not sound happy.

“You busy?” he asks. Not waiting for an answer. “Good. Lee Know and I need to talk to you. We’re coming over.”

You blink, sitting up straighter on your bed. “Wait, what? Why?”

There’s a pause on the other end.

Then another voice joins in—sharp, unmistakably Lee Know:

“Because this isn’t a joke anymore.”

Click.

You stare at your phone, heart pounding.

They’re really coming.

The knock on your door is sharp. Direct. Just like them.

You open it, and there they are: Bang Chan with a baseball cap pulled low, Lee Know with arms crossed and eyes unreadable.

They don’t even wait to be invited in.

“Hey,” Chan says, stepping inside. “Sorry to barge in.”

“No, it’s okay…” you murmur, closing the door behind them. “Is something wrong?”

Lee Know gives you a look. “You tell us.”

You swallow. “Is this about… Seungmin and Felix?”

“Ding ding,” Chan says, voice dry. He sits on the edge of your couch. “You know they almost weren’t allowed to walk at graduation?”

Your stomach drops. “What…?”

“They got pulled into the office that morning,” Lee Know says. “Principal was this close to suspending them. If it weren’t the last day, they’d both have been done.”

You cover your mouth. “I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t,” Chan says, softer this time. “Because you’ve been hiding.”

You freeze.

“You knew they both liked you,” Lee Know continues. “Maybe not at first. But eventually, you knew. And you let it sit. Fester. While they ruined a friendship over you.”

“I never asked for that,” you whisper.

“We’re not blaming you,” Chan says, gentler now. “But Y/N… not choosing is still a choice.”

The room falls quiet.

You look down at your hands. They’re shaking again.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you admit. “I love them both. But not the same way.”

Lee Know tilts his head. “Then tell them.”

Chan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just want this to stop hurting everyone. Including you.”

You bite your lip. “I still have the letter.”

Both of them go quiet.

Then Chan says, “Then maybe it’s time to answer it.”

You haven’t said anything for a while.

Just silence—sitting on the couch with your knees pulled close to your chest, the weight of everything pressing down like a too-heavy coat. The letter in your drawer. The fight in the gym. Felix’s wet eyes. Seungmin’s voice saying, “Open it later.”

You remember the way the polaroid in your pocket crumpled the moment fists flew.

Across from you, Bang Chan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. He looks older today. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with age.

Lee Know’s beside him, hands still folded in his lap. He hasn’t looked away from you once.

You swallow thickly. “I didn’t think it would get that bad.”

Lee Know scoffs under his breath, but there’s no malice in it. “Of course you didn’t. That’s the problem.”

“Minho—” Chan warns, quiet.

“No, she needs to hear it,” Lee Know replies, then turns back to you, gaze sharp but not unkind. “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw Seungmin cry?”

Your throat tightens. “…No.”

“He was shaking,” he says, voice lowering. “Not from the hit. From guilt. Because he never wanted to hurt Felix. He just didn’t know what else to do.”

“He still doesn't,” Chan murmurs. “Neither of them do.”

Your eyes burn. “I never meant to—”

“We know,” Chan says gently. “You never meant to hurt anyone. But love isn’t innocent just because it didn’t come with instructions.”

You blink. “I didn’t choose—”

“And maybe that’s why it hurts more,” Lee Know cuts in. “Because you didn’t choose. And they did.”

That silences you.

Bang Chan gets up slowly and walks over. He sits next to you on the couch, placing a careful hand on your shoulder. It’s warm. Steady. Comforting in that way only older brothers can be.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. “We love them like family. They’re our kids. And watching them tear each other apart like that…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.

You feel the tears prick behind your eyes. “I—I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s fair,” Chan says. “But now it’s your turn. To speak. To feel. To tell the truth.”

“Even if it hurts?” you whisper.

Lee Know stands up, walking to the window. His voice is soft, but firm. “Especially if it hurts.”

“Because this?” Chan says, squeezing your shoulder. “This isn’t what love’s supposed to look like.”

You finally let yourself cry.

And this time, neither of them look away.

-----

You’re standing in front of his door, the letter still folded in your pocket.

You haven’t stopped thinking about his handwriting—shaky at the end. Like his hands were trembling. Like the truth scared him. Like he meant every word.

And the silence between you has stretched too long.

You knock.

The door creaks open slower than your heartbeat. He’s in a hoodie, hair messy, eyes dull like he hasn’t slept much.

“Y/N…?”

You nod once. Your throat tightens.

“I read it,” you say.

His breath hitches.

“And?”

“And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” You step inside. “About you.”

He backs up instinctively, unsure.

You walk forward anyway.

“When I asked you to dance,” you murmur, “I didn’t know what it meant. But I think… I do now.”

He swallows. “You don’t have to say anything—”

“I want to.”

You close the space between you and gently press your hand to his chest. His heart is racing.

“I felt it too, Seungmin. I think I’ve been falling for a while. I just… didn’t know it until I saw you walk away.”

His eyes soften. So do his shoulders.

“Really?” he whispers.

“Really.”

And then there’s a beat of silence—so full it could collapse. And it almost does.

Until his hand lifts, hesitant, to your cheek.

“Can I—”

“You can.”

And when he kisses you, it’s not urgent or messy. It’s careful, trembling, real.

His lips brush yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Like he’s still halfway in disbelief that you’re here, in front of him, saying yes to everything he never thought he deserved.

You lean in first. He deepens it.

There’s no music, no spotlight, no fireworks—but somehow, it feels louder than any stage.

When you part, his forehead presses to yours.

“You’re really here,” he breathes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

-----

It’s quiet in the park—just the soft hum of the wind and the rustle of someone’s jacket as they shift awkwardly.

You’re standing between them.

Felix on your left, eyes down, fingers loosely twisting the ends of his hoodie sleeves.

Seungmin on your right, stiff posture, arms crossed, pretending he’s colder than he actually is.

No one’s spoken yet.

Until you do.

“Thank you… for coming.”

Felix nods once. “Yeah.”

You glance at Seungmin, and slowly, his arms uncross.

“I wanted us to talk,” you say softly. “All three of us.”

Felix looks at you then. The usual spark in his eyes is dulled, dimmed by everything left unsaid.

“So… are you two…” he gestures vaguely between you and Seungmin, voice quiet.

You meet Seungmin’s gaze, and he takes a step closer, just enough to make it clear—he’s standing with you now.

“Yeah,” he says. “We are.”

Felix breathes out through his nose. It’s not bitter. Not quite sad either. Just tired.

“I figured,” he says. “You two always looked like a movie waiting to happen.”

Your heart aches. You step forward.

“Felix… I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it. “I never meant to hurt you. I was just—confused, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

He smiles, soft and wobbly. “You didn’t. You never could.”

He turns to Seungmin.

“I shouldn’t have lost it like that.”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far either. I didn’t tell you how I felt because I thought it would ruin things. And I guess… it did anyway.”

For a moment, it’s just the three of you—messy, flawed, and still somehow whole.

Felix’s voice is quiet when he says it. “I missed us.”

Seungmin nods. “Me too.”

And before either of them can overthink it, Felix steps forward and wraps his arms around him.

Seungmin stiffens for half a second—then melts into it.

You smile, tears prickling your lashes as you join the hug, arms wrapping around both.

It’s not perfect. Not clean or easy.

But it’s real.

And somehow, it’s enough.

☀︎༄.° a/n <3: thank you @uzmacchiato for the super adorable banners....hope you enjoyed this....reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated and don't forget to check out my other works...love yaaa <333

© eumppapasmom — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[in-the-drowning-deep]

Your OC's Children

Thanks for the tag, @rooks-dagger! Soft tagging @serjory, @cassiaorsellio, @babydinosaur930, @velnat004, @themildmahariel, @mildlyupsetzebra, @aetherflowers and @master-of-the-elements - if your OCs have kids, wards, students/protégés, favourite niblings etc, I would LOVE to hear about them!

Lucien Trevelyan/The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus

Picrew link | From left to right: Dora, Evelyn, and Devorah.

Dorothea 'Dora' Pavus-Trevelyan is a complete accident - in the chaos of Trespasser, Lucien and Bull both got a little complacent with their contraceptives. They figured it wouldn't matter too much because hey, Lucien was going to be dead within the next few days.

...then he wasn't. And it did. And sure, she puts him on bed rest for the last month and a half of the pregnancy, and knocks him flat for a month or so after the birth as well - but Maker, is she worth it. Dora is the most adored kid in Skyhold, and spends the first seven years of her life being passed between her fathers, the Chargers, her aunts Josie and Leliana, and her uncle Cullen.

The person she really latches onto is her namesake, Dorian (Josie said it would be impolitic to name the Inquisitor's firstborn after a Magister, but no one said anything about nicknames). After Veilguard, when her fathers move to Minrathous, Dora latches on to Dorian and follows him around like a tiny duckling.

(Or not so tiny, given she inherited Bull's height. She tops out at 6'7 in the end, nerfed by whatever Trevelyan height genes are in the mix, but she's taller than her beloved Uncle Varric by the time Veilguard starts.)

The trouble is, when the triad get together and Dorian formally adopts Dora, that means she's the only heir to House Pavus. And while the idea of the House being inherited by a qunari is theoretically very funny, Dorian knows how much of an uphill struggle that would be for her - and how much danger it would put her in.

He and his husbands sit down and agree to try for a younger, fully human half-sibling for Dora, to make sure that whoever inherits, they will have a choice in the matter. And apparently Lucien's body decides to overachieve on that front, as rather than one child, they end up welcoming twins.

Evelyn Pavus is the older of the two by about a minute. She's by far the most physically active of the three, and loves nothing more than horse riding and playing 'dragon hunt' with Tama (Bull). She's the spit image of Dorian, who is baffled as to how his kid can look so much like him and yet act so wildly different (but he loves her as ferociously as the other two all the same).

She ends up showing little to no magical talent, but where in years past that would have made her a pariah in Altus circles, things in Tevinter have begun to change thanks to the determined efforts of Dorian, her other fathers, and everyone else involved in the rebuilding process. Are there still some dickheads around? Sure! But while some eyebrows are raised when she goes off to join the Chargers under Krem's leadership, none of them belong to anyone important to her.

(Bull maybe cries a lil watching her go, though.)

Devorah Pavus is the youngest and quietest of the three. Between her Dad, her Aunt Mae, her Uncles Krem and Tarquin and her Nuncle Taash, she grows up surrounded by trans people - so when she tells her fathers she's a girl at the age of five or six, things are wildly straightforward.

(Again, there may or may not be some happy tears from Lucien/Dorian/Mae at how much easier things can be for the next generation of queer kids than it was for them.)

She's a bit of a homebody, and shares Lucien's love of gardening and Dorian's and Lucien's love of books. In the end, after much talking it through, Dora does inherit House Pavus after all - she handles the politics, with Maevaris and Esha as her mentors, while Devorah manages the estate and works as a spirit healer.

[ancha-aus]

Very quick first draft for a scene in the hunger games utmv crossover au i may be actually going to create...

I need to stop getting big projects

-----

Sans still feels numb even as the train gets to cruising speed.

He wasn’t too surprised with the humans only focussing on his fellow Tribute. That is alright. He is just here in this room to eat the cakes anyway.

Hey, if he is going to die he is going to enjoy these stupid cakes that are worth more than Paps and Undyne earn in a month.

[Mentor] has been talking for almost ten full minutes now. All about the different skills that can earn sponsors. The kid- oh wait she had her birthday is she is no kid anymore- Nina is nodding even as Sans can still see the tears in her eyes. Her hands are still lightly shaking and Sans would hold it. Offer the kid some support but he doubts the capital rep would like that and do her any good.

Mentor keeps talking and motions with his hands “Now remember. Most will try to brute force their way through. But you can count on your smarts. Appear smart. Appear as if you have a plan. That will earn you sponsors.”

Nina blinks before she smiles as she looks at Sans “that means Sans can get sponsors too! He is the smartest person I know!”

Sans chuckles as he shakes his head. But he stuffs his mouth with another cake before he can make a comment that will make stuff harder for her.

Mentor frowns “Look.” He looks down at his hands. He glances to the side at Sans before looking away. Sans doesn’t take it personal. Getting friendly with a monster is not exactly a good sign.

“There are… A few things you have to realise… Only one of you could even win.”

Nina glares “No! last year we had two winners!”

Mentor glares “That is not going to happen again.” He sighs “Never again… They will make sure of it.” He looks to the side for another moment before looking her straight in the eyes “Only one of you could win… and I am going to be real. Only one of you will get sponsors no matter what I try.”

He glances at him. Regret in his eyes.

Sans knows that look. It is the same when he came to the small spot that Sans and his family called home. He had looked down so guilty when he admitted he needed help. That his own son had needed help. He had fallen behind with his grades and people were starting to mention how if it kept going like this he would have to sign up for Tesserae to make up for all the lost time and resources to teach him basic skills.

Sans spend about three weeks tutoring the kid and he managed to pull through and pass his exams. It had been so nice to see the kid so happy.

And he won’t lie, the resources and food had been very welcome too.

Nina glares “But Sans knows more! He can learn anything! Hell he is able to teach you anything!”

Which… Is a bit of an overstatement honestly. Sure Sans is a quick learner. But he only knows all this stuff because he happened to have found the old library with so much knowledge. Each time someone comes to him for lessons outside of usual district stuff he goes down there and reads the books and gets a small tutorial ready. It isn’t that big of a deal.

Mentor glares “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you get it? No one is going to see what he does as clever. No one is going to take him seriously. No one.”

Nina has tears threatening to break free “It isn’t fair… Monsters won in the past…”

Mentor sighs as he nods “True… But they won’t risk it this year.” He finally looks Sans in the eyes “I am sorry Sans.”

Sans knows it is a risk for him to even acknowledge Sans, much less makes it clear he knows him. With all the cameras on this train and the people around…

Sans just shrugs as he speaks “It isn’t like I didn’t know this. Monsters never win two years in a row.”

Though skeleton monsters did have a good chance for quarter quells apparently. With skeletons winning multiple of the relatively less likely to happen games.

Nina’s tears break through as she leans on his hands “It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair… I turned Nineteen last week. It isn’t fair.”

Sans agrees. It isn’t fair.

But that is the point of the hunger games? Isn’t it? To not be fair. To show they are powerless against the Capital.

Sans got so many Tesserae in the past. To get his family resources. The fact they had to put in their names twice to get the same rations humans got with one. Even with all of those. Even with having put his name in that many times. He still was never picked.

Not until the quell of course. Because then they decided to go for 19 year old to 25 year olds instead of poor children.

Show them that even if you think you age out they still own you.

Sans watches their, well Nina’s really, mentor hold her through the tears.

Sans can’t help but remember the promise he made. The one burned in his mind.

He promised to try. To try everything he could to return home.

He grabs another cake and eats it. His mind spinning. He won’t ever win with brute force. He needs to know people’s strengths. He needs to get lucky with the arena. He needs a plan.

And pray to the stars they don’t target him for being a skeleton.

----

Mentor doens't have a name yet and Nina is also temp...

Just trying to think if i had plans for which district... but stuff is slowly taking shape in my mind...

[honeygrahambitch]

Part 3 🍊

Read here: Promo | Part 1 | Part 2 |

~

"What happened to your leg?"

"What happened to your head?"

After what felt like a staring contest, Hannibal blinked. The pain in the back of his head was making keeping his eyes open in broad daylight quite a difficult task.

Will was sitting down on the rocky shore, his legs dangling above the water surface, one of them bandaged. His hands were holding on a fishing rod.

"I picked up some herbs from an old lady's garden. She was not amused. But her granddaughter is quite lovely," he said gesturing towards the heavy bag he was carrying.

He thought he saw something in Will's eyes change for a split second.

"Then did you make friends or enemies?"

"Katerina's grandma certainly sees me like a nemesis."

"Katerina," Will mouthed and then nodded shortly towards the cut on Hannibal's forehead, "How bad is it?"

"Thank your dearest Chiyoh for lending us a house that is literally falling apart. I was going to grab myself a beer from the basement when my leg fell through one of the stairs."

"I might get a concussion," he said and brushed it off quickly.

"Your turn."

"Did you-"

"Pull out the splinters? Yes."

"May I have a look at it before we go to sleep? I want to redo your bandaging."

"I detect some shade in that but yes, suit yourself," Will said arching an eyebrow. "Look into that bucket."

When headed towards the house, Hannibal remained still. "You fixed the windows and the door."

"Beautiful." Hannibal commented as he looked at the still moving fish. "Close your eyes."

He sat next to Will and started looking for something in his bag.

Will sighed audibly and complied. The day had been exhausting enough.

"Inhale," Hannibal said as he held a leaf in front of Will's nostrils.

Hannibal found Will's grimace more than amusing.

"Name it."

His eyes remained closed when he grabbed Hannibal's hand and moved it away, "Something too strong."

"I am firmly convinced you know what it is."

"Fishing is quite difficult when my eyes are closed," he murmured then grabbed Hannibal's hand again to get another sniff. "Is it perhaps sage?"

"Brilliant," Hannibal praised him which caused Will to feel some sense of pride, which he immediately hated. "You will see that it will give the fish a lovely flavour."

Will opened his eyes doubtfully, "I trust your cooking abilities."

"I really want to introduce you to every flavor this island has to offer, Will."

Right, there was that.

Will pulled out the fishing rod, "Great because I'm starving."

"I did. There's the hole in the roof that needs-"

"And you fished."

"Yes?"

"You took care of everything."

Will shrugged, "It wasn't a big deal. I will remove the fish guts, then we can start cooking."

"It was you who said you are getting a concussion, you should rest more."

"Then I can start cooking. All I want you to do is sit down and watch me."

"I rested enough during the last two weeks. It's time I started to help around."

"Will, you gave me my freedom back."

"You almost died during the last two weeks. Remember?" Will asked "It was Chiyoh who knew what to do about your hemorrhages and the high fever and the pneumonia. If anything happens to you, I'm useless."

And it felt like he had freed a truth that he had not been aware of either. He tried to smile, to give it a humorous allure.

"After I took it from you."

"I took a few things from you too. I'd dare to say you have been in a cage as much as I have during the last three years. I won't let you blame yourself for your lack of medical skills and for anything else. I think it's wonderful that I get to be on a greek island with you and enjoy a glass of mastiha."

Will arched an eyebrow, looking at the bottle that Hannibal pulled from the bag.

"Is that from your new friend Katerina?"

"No," Hannibal said quite amused by his intonation, "I bought it. I wanted to get us ouzo but our fridge is not working yet and ice cubes were necessary."

"Right, the electricity guy was supposed to come today but whatever. And I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Will," Hannibal said lovingly and touched his face with his free hand, making Will tighten his grip around the bucket handle. "You are everything."

Will didn't say anything, he almost felt like during that night when Hannibal had left him on the kitchen floor. But the look in his eyes was different. So were his tone and his touch.

And he would have liked to melt in between his fingers.

"What even is mastiha?" He asked, as a sign that Hannibal's reassuring words had not been in vain. They had not dissolved Will's own fears but for the moment they had been enough.

"A sweet liquor flavoured with mastih, from the mastiha tree. It's some kind of resin that gives the drink an interesting flavour. I believe it's something you will enjoy."

"You are lucky you are done with your antibiotics," Will said as his eyes identified the percentage of alcohol on the bottle.

"I like how we pretend you have been in perfect shape all the time," Hannibal said, not maliciously at all, purely as a tease.

Will ignored him and opened the front door, nodding towards him to go inside.

"We should start cooking before we knock ourselves out with your magic drink."

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part nine (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part eight | part ten

interested in the ford route? click here for masterlist.

a!n: got stuck in a bit of a writer's block this time around but we made it! the next chapters and epilogue should be coming out definitely by the end of this year but thanks to everyone who's been reading since 2024. sorry it's taking me so long to finish this but enjoy this chapter!

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

Two sets of eyes flick back and forth across the kitchen, watching their great uncle pace around the kitchen and the stack of Stancakes grow taller and taller with each minute that passes.

“Uhh, I think that should be enough for the three of us, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper attempts to be the voice of reason, his eyes now following another pancake being flipped into the air. 

“Maybe he’s making some for Soos, and Melody too.” Mabel offers to her brother.

“Huh, what?” Stan finally breaks out of his daze, holding a spatula in his hand. It now registers to him the massive amount of pancakes he’s now made looming in the background. 

“Everything alright, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asks, not used to seeing his more laidback uncle this tense. He’s never seen Stan pace like this… ever.

“Of course! Everything’s fine, sunshine and unicorns…. or was it rainbows and unicorns?” Stan fumbles over his words awkwardly, shutting the stove off and walking over to place the massive stack in front of the twins.

“You mean sunshine and rainbows?” Mabel offers, her and Dipper exchanging a look while she serves herself a generous portion of the pancakes. 

“Yeah that!” Stan snaps his fingers, sliding into the chair across from the two. Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip, but his hand is jittery and shakes the mug around. As he lowers it, two sets of big brown eyes stare back at him.

“Grunkle Stan, your hand is literally shaking…” Dipper points out, stabbing a stack of pancakes onto his plate. “You didn’t mistake my Smile Dip for your sugar again, did you?” Mabel comments, causing her brother to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mabel, why do you even store it in a jar?”

“Well, it’s easier to pour out in a jar instead of the packets! I’m trying to practice moderation!” Mabel defends herself.

Stan shakes his head, resting his chin on his hand while the other ruffles Mabel’s hair affectionately, “Just had a long night, kids. Your Grunkle is running on fumes and coffee at this point.” Dipper raises his eyebrow, wondering why Stan was up late last night, but decides not to question him further. He reaches over, snatching the mug out of Stan’s hand, who tries to grab it back but fumbles, his arm knocking over part of the stack of pancakes that flop to the floor.

“No more coffee, Grunkle Stan. Go and get some rest.” Dipper says.

Stan is about to rebuttal, but sees the genuine concern in his niece and nephew’s eyes. Ugh, they’re using the classic twin doe eyes - he should’ve never taught them that. He slides his chair back and puts his hands up in defeat, “Alright, alright! I’ll go take a nap, stay out of trouble and you gotta tell Soos and Melody if you’re leaving the Shack - got it?” The twins nod their heads in understanding and shoo their Grunkle away with their hands.

Stan makes his way to the living room, turning on the TV. His body sinks into the worn-out fabric of the chair, a rerun of Ducktective playing in the background. His eyes begin to feel heavy, the exhaustion of these last few weeks of staying up way past his bedtime finally hitting him. 

The still night fills with a boisterous laugh, a smoke cloud swirling up into the inky sky before dissipating.

“No, wait, it gets even better!” Stan grins, tapping the ashes off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips, “Poindexter takes the robot to school... And it falls out of his bag! Next thing you know, an alarm is going off in the middle of 3rd period and remember, the only way to turn the damn thing off is to kiss it correctly.”

Your laughter rings through the receiver, slightly muffled as you’re trying to keep it down since it’s almost 2 AM. “How long did it take for him to finally turn it off?”

“The whole rest of the period and then some. Titling his head into all these weird positions just trying to shut it off.” Stan chuckled.

“Didn’t realize there was a correct way to kiss. ” You hum, a soft yawn escaping your lips.

“I didn’t either, but ya know Ford. He’ll always find a way to turn anything into a problem he can solve.” Stan sighs, taking another drag. His index finger curled around the cord of the payphone.

There’s a lull in the conversation as silence is the only thing that replies to Stan.

He’s about to ask if you want to call it for the evening before your voice cuts through.

“Hey Stan, tell me a story about you.” You ask.

Stan freezes, inhaling some of the smoke in his mouth as a reflex, causing him to gag and hack it up. He beats on his chest, letting out a few more dry coughs before answering, “Ya sure you don’t wanna hear about the time Ford tried to create a self-lighting menorah?”

“No, Stan, I wanna know more about you.” He hears you shuffling on the other end, most likely pulling the blanket around your shoulders closer to your frame. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love hearing more about Ford’s childhood and his life in New Jersey since he doesn’t talk about it much… but I feel like I know nothing about you and you’re the one I’m talking to.”

Stan stares at the glowing tip of his cigarette, watching the embers slowly disintegrate the paper and tobacco. He doesn’t even know where to start. It’s been so long that he’s talked about his life as Stanley Pines and not some made-up persona he came up with. Hell, even hearing his name during these phone calls is already jarring. 

“Well, what’d you wanna know?” Stan finally speaks. He pushed away those fond memories of his life back in Jersey after years on the run so coming up with anything felt impossible. He needed some kind of guideline.

“Let’s start with something simple.” You reply, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really?” Stan almost scoffs, “You can’t really want to-”

“Answer the damn question, Pines.” You huff on the other end.

Stan scratches the back of his neck after flicking the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamping it out with his foot, “Don’t have one. Believe it or not, I don’t even like colors, more of a classic black and gray guy.”

“That’s such a cop-out, Stan, and you know it.”

Stan grins as he stares at the phone. He shakes his head in disbelief at your boldness and ability to call him out despite not even meeting him yet. He finally answers, “Alright, alright. If I had to pick one, I guess red. It’s the color of my car, I look the best in red.”

You seem satisfied with that answer as you ask another question, “What’s your favorite food?”

He answers this one much more quickly, “Toffee Peanuts, I would snack on those things every single day. Don’t mention them to Ford… they’re.. uh… touchy subject.” Stan winces, remembering how that bag of toffee peanuts ratted him out.

“Okay…” You say in slight confusion, “Ooh, what’s your favorite genre of movies?”

Stan knows the real answer but god you’re gonna think he’s a total putz, so he makes one up, “Uh… action.”

He could practically hear your eyebrow raising on the other end, “Okay? Name your favorite action movie then.”

His mind is drawing blanks and despite finally giving an answer after several seconds of silence, it’s clear that you weren’t buying it. “Alright, fine. Ma loved watching these romantic period piece movies and I would sit next to her, acting like it was gross but I ate that stuff up.”

Your soft laughter immediately followed his response and he rolled his eyes with a grin across his face, “Hey, you can laugh all you want but don’t knock it until you watch one.”

The pay phone sounded off a reminder that the call was approaching its end based on the amount Stan was able to put into the payphone.

“Alright, we’ll watch one together when we finally meet. It’s a promise.”

Stan suddenly wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder, sitting up right with dried drool crusted on his chin. He rubs his eyes and turns to see Mabel with a frown on her face, “What’s the matter, pumpkin?”

“Y/N left a few hours ago and I’m getting kinda worried, Grunkle Stan…” Mabel explains, “I think her and Great Uncle Ford got into a pretty bad fight, I heard them yelling when I was grabbing scissors from the gift shop,… what if she doesn’t come back? Is she just gonna leave without saying goodbye? I was just working on a scrapbook for her to take home so she could remember the fun times we had the last few weeks.”

Ah crap… Stan thinks, seeing tears start to well in Mabel’s eyes. He knows hearing you and Ford fight probably reminded her of when her parents were fighting before they had finally decided to call it quits over the summer. He quickly wipes them away with his thumb, “She wouldn’t do that, pumpkin. Let your Grunkle Stan handle this.” He pats her reassuringly on the shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as she goes in for a hug before making her way back upstairs. 

Stan searches the Mystery Shack for his brother, but there’s no trace of him. About to give up, he circles to the rear of the Mystery Shack, stumbling upon his brother sitting on the couch in the back who seemed deep in thought. 

“What the hell happened, Ford?”

Ford jumps at the sound of his brother’s voice. His shoulders slump, letting out a sigh as he pats the seat next to him. Stan joins him, eyebrow raised, a silent message to answer his question.

“We finally got to our last fight, I don’t think there was any valid explanation I could truly give for that fight so Y/N got upset. I tried providing comfort, but as you know, it’s not my field of expertise. We went back and forth like Newton’s Third Law, every action had a reaction. It got to a breaking point, and she said she needed to go for a drive to clear her head, so I let her." Ford explained.

“And you didn’t go after her?” Stan questions his brother, his arms crossed.

“Why would I, Stanley? She very clearly showed that she wanted to be nowhere near me.” Ford looks at his brother like he has a second head, “Besides, I’m sure that would have only made things far worse than they already are.”

“No, I don’t buy that for a second. When we had our fights after I got some memories back on the boat, you would chase me down and insist that we needed to talk things out.” Stan protested, shaking his head at his brother’s logic. 

“Well, we were on a boat, Stanley. There’s only so much square footage we had before we’d inevitably run into each other so unless you wanted to jump off the boat and let the sea take you away, we didn’t have much of an option.” Ford pointed out. “Alright, that aside, you should be chasing after her, trying to win her back! You know, like those romance movies ma used to watch!” Stan insisted, trying to push Ford towards you to put distance between him and what his heart was feeling.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. 

Absolutely not.

He couldn’t do that to Ford, absolutely not after everything that happened to them last summer. 

“I’m not trying to win her back, Stanley.” Ford’s words hit Stan like a ton of bricks.

“Wait… what?” Stan says in disbelief, “Then why’re you trying to get her memories back? What is all this for then?”

“Because regardless of whether I have romantic feelings or not, she deserves to get her memories back. Using your own logic, I shouldn’t have helped you this past year.” Ford answers, “Listen, I wasn’t going to tell anyone this until after Y/N had all her memories restored, but we had a talk a couple days ago. We came to an understanding - we’re two very different people now than when we were together, and we’re past the point where we could attempt to start over and spark back what we had before. Also, according to Mabel’s compatibility test that I found, we’re better off as friends.” 

“How’d ya even find that?” Stan questions, eyebrow raised.

“Dipper wanted me to read through his findings in his own journal so I assumed the journal on the kitchen table was his. I probably should have surmised through context clues that it was Mabel’s given that it was pink and chalked with glitter, but the test fell out when I picked up the journal.” Ford explained. 

“Ya can’t use a test out of a teen magazine as actual proof that you aren’t compatible, Ford.” Stan says with a deadpan tone. This causes his brother to chuckle. “There’s surprisingly some pretty accurate data in it, it measures a lot of different facets of relationship that I would have never considered.” 

Stan blinks in surprise, “So that’s it, huh? You just want to be friends with the girl you called the one that got away?” Ford nodded with a sense of finality, “Seeing those memories over the past few weeks allowed me to see our relationship more objectively instead of with the rose tinted glasses I had viewed it through. I’ve realized I tend to get attached to what a person represents versus who they truly are. Y/N doesn’t need to be with someone who only admires her as a concept. If anything, our time apart allowed her to self-actualize into the person I believe she was always meant to be, as did I.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stan is at a loss for words, not having much of a rebuttal for Ford’s logic. Despite his twin not being adept at emotions, his response showed a lot of emotional maturity. He quickly changes the subject to the pressing issue at hand, the whole reason why he went searching for Ford, “Well Mabel’s worried sick about her, woke me up asking if she was coming back.” Ford hums in understanding, “Then you should go find her, Stanley.” Stan stares at Ford, “Why me? Why don’t you go or get McGucket to find her?”

“Because you’ve been in her shoes. You were in the exact same place she was when you sacrificed your memories, your entire being last summer. You understand the pain in a way that I can’t. Out of all people, it should be you.” Ford says simply like it's a fact. 

“... I hate when you actually might be right.”

“Stanley, I’m right almost 99.8% of the time. This isn’t a statistical anomaly.” Ford chuckles.

Stan gets up, “Any idea where she might be?”

“Check the Floating Cliffs… when we would fight, if she wasn’t on the rooftop, she’d be there.”

-

Your car is parked near the side of the road of the Floating Cliffs, visible for anyone driving by to spot it. You decided you need to walk up to the edge to clear your head, taking in the view from up high that allowed you to see over Gravity Falls from a distance. The town seemed so unassuming, like any other sleepy town that one would pass by during their trek up the Pacific Northwest. That’s all it was supposed to be when your car broke down almost two weeks ago and yet it contained years of history that were now engraved back into your psyche.

You sit on a rock on the cliff’s edge, the image of younger Ford’s cold stare through the screen imprinted in your head, being in sharp contrast to the sympathetic squeeze on your shoulder you felt from his older counterpart.

“All you’ve done is hold me back from my potential.”

A hand rests on your shoulder unexpectedly, and you shrug it off, whipping around expecting to see Ford, “Ford, I told you I need-”

Stan stands before you instead, his hands now shoved into the pockets of his brown jacket, “Jeez, I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome but man, what’ve Ford said must have been bad for you to react like that.” He takes a seat next to you in the grass. His legs sprawl out across the grass, leaning back on his hands as he takes in the view, “First time up here, I can see why you come up here to clear your head.”

You’re completely caught off guard by Stan’s sudden appearance. After all, he was asleep when you left earlier, how did he even know where to find you? You realize when you’ve been staring for far too long as Stan raises an eyebrow and speaks up, “What, do I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No… just why are you here? You didn’t have to come all the way out here, Stan.” You ask, your head tilted as you bring your knees close to your chest. “Well, there’s a thirteen year old worried that you aren’t coming back so I had to at least try and make sure you didn’t skip town.” Stan explains.

You can feel your heart sink, “Oh god, did Mabel or Dipper hear Ford and I? I would never leave without at least saying goodbye to you and the kids, no matter how angry I am at Ford.” Stan waves his hand in the air, “It’s better you left anyways to cool off… the kids’ parents just went through a divorce so it hit a little too close to home for Mabel, but don’t sweat it. Ya didn’t know.”

Despite Stan’s insistence to not think too deeply about it, you can’t help but shake the feeling. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be here, maybe Ford’s words back then had some truth to them, what was the point of you being here? This family was functioning fine without you around, and then your presence after all these years managed to shake things up when they had just gone through what sounded like hell and back the last year with Bill.

Stan’s voice interrupts your thoughts, “I know you’ve got some wild story cooking in your head, care to share?” You look down to see him staring back at you, patting the seat on the grass next to him. It’s an invitation to let down your walls, to let him in if you’ll allow him. You take the invitation, slipping off the rock and resting on the grass. “Where do I even begin?” You groan, running your hand through your hair as you throw your head back. Stan shrugs, “Well… tell me about you and Ford’s fight. What even happened during your last fight with him?”

Your face contorts, and Stan lets out a chuckle, “Ya gotta talk about it at some point. Why not talk about it with the guy who had to do this almost every other day all last year?” Your guard slightly lowered and you let out a sigh, “Alright…”

“Fidds, do you really have to go?” You ask, watching helplessly while your friend packs his belongings in a frantic manner. His paranoia had grown worse, looking over his shoulder and his eyes flitting across the room searching for something that wasn’t there.

“I quit the project, Y/N.” Fiddleford says with an edge to his voice, “You don’t know the things I saw when I entered that darn portal… ” His hands continue to dig through the drawers to grab whatever he can and stuff it in his suitcase.

“Maybe we could just go down there-” You attempt to smooth over the situation, but your attempt has failed as Fiddleford cuts you off, “Ford’s past the point of listening to us, he can’t see past his own desires! I told him to shut that portal down, that it would cause the end of days!” He realizes the severity of his tone and lets out a sigh, “Listen… I just can’t be here anymore. Every day my mind grows more maddened.” He turns on his heel, ready to walk out the door.

“Fidds, please, I can’t do this alone.” You mutter, tugging on his sleeve. Fiddleford looks down at your hand and takes it into his. “Hey, I’m not disappearing on ya for good but you have a choice too. This isn’t a way of living, Y/N, and you know that. You can walk away… but if you ain’t ready, that’s fine. Ya know where to find me.” He says, already knowing you knew exactly where to look. You nod silently and he squeezes your hand tightly before letting go, disappearing in the dark woods.

The sadness was quickly replaced with anger, your fists clenched and your jaw tight. You make your way down the stairs of the basement, practically stomping down. Your blood boils at the sight of Ford still staring at the stupid portal, looking perplexed. 

“Stanford Fillbrick Pines.”

Ford’s posture suddenly straightens at the sound of your stern tone, and he turns to look at you. He holds his hands up already ready to defend himself, “Listen, Y/N, I know you must be upset by Fiddleford abandoning the project -”

“Upset?” You scoff, “The word upset barely scratches the surface of how I feel right now. Your best friend, our friend, just left because you put this thing” You point towards the portal, “over him.”

Ford goes into defense mode, his hands that were now raised in surrender suddenly drop before crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, let’s not jump to illogical conclusions and go pointing fingers. There’s more to the situation.”

The thread was getting thinner as you stared back at Ford in disbelief. You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head, “Alright, since you believe my statement is illogical, let’s review the simple, plain facts of the situation, Stanford.” You begin to close the gap between the two of you, counting off each point with your fingers.

“You have spent more time working on this stupid portal the entire time Fiddleford has been here than actually spending quality time with him. Half of our conversations at this point are about this portal or your research, and I have not heard you ask in months how we’re doing. You are putting all of your time and energy into a portal in which you don’t even know what it does.” You inch closer to him, his eyebrows knitting in frustration with each point. 

“It is supposed to hold the answers to my life’s work, explain the phenomenon of weirdness happening in this town!” Ford exclaims as if you’re idiotic for even stating such a thing.

“You actually believe that, Stanford? You are actually believing what an entity that just comes and goes tells you over what your best friend just witnessed. I’m the illogical one? You’re putting hearsay over actual evidence.” You throw your hands up in frustration. 

“You know how paranoid F has gotten, who knows if what he actually witnessed was real or not?” Ford argues back, “Besides, the mechanical heavy lifting of the project is over, I can do this on my own.”

How could he be so callous and cold? Ford was never overtly in touch with his emotions, but this man was not the man you had fallen in love with. “You can’t be serious… are you just going to brush aside how much he’s done for you? He has a family - a wife and a son - that he sacrificed time away from to help you, and yet you treat him like a tool.” 

“He made that choice! If he wanted to, he could’ve stayed in Palo Alto!” Ford replies dismissively.

“And what about me, Ford?” You yell. The sound echoes through the stone walls of the basement, “I have needs, and dreams, and visions of my own! Am I supposed to sit on the wayside for you to accomplish yours before I even get to mine?”

There’s a pause before Ford stares back at you coldly, “You had a choice too, Y/N. I would have hoped my partner would have understood the commitment this project was, and supported me in achieving my life’s work. Instead, you try to pull me away from my work, make me lose focus. Bill was right.. all you’ve done is hold me back from my potential.”

The thread snaps. 

Any semblance of hope of changing Ford’s mind disintegrates in that moment.

“Then what’s the point of me being here, Ford? Let me just get out of your way then.” You say, turning on your heel. You began to walk away before six fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist.

“Let go, Ford.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady. You had spent too much time crying over this man, you weren’t going to let him see you break. Not anymore.

“Y/N, please be rational and just let me finish this project… then we have the rest of our lives ahead of us.” He tries to appeal to you, but you’ve shut down already.

“If you continue to believe this is rational, Ford, I can’t help you anymore. I can’t keep putting my life on hold for you. I can’t just sit on a shelf, just waiting for you to interact with me. I just… can’t.” You shake your head before tearing your wrist from his grip and walking away.

“Fine, I don’t need anyone! I don’t need Fiddleford, and I don’t need you!” Ford yells out as you continue to walk away. 

“And.. that was the last thing he said to me before I left.” You wrap up your story just as the sun begins its descent in the horizon.

You expected some words of sympathy or some type of wise observation to come out of Stan’s mouth.

“God, come on, Ford, at least be original. You know he stole that whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ line from me?” Stan scoffs.

You’re so caught off-guard by his response that you can’t help but let out a laugh, “So that was your huge takeaway from our fight?”

“Sorry, sorry… just had to get it off my chest.” He admits with a grin,“Still can’t believe you haven’t decked him after all that, I lost count how many times I tried to take a swing at Ford on the boat.”

“Ya know, violence isn’t always the answer to every problem, Stan?” You shake your head, grinning as he holds up his fists. “Hey, these things have a pretty good track record of getting me out of some sticky situations.” 

“So what you’re saying is that punching Ford in the face would fix everything?”

“Well, it’d at least be a great outlet for all the pent up rage you probably have stored up inside you.”

Stan had to admit he wasn’t much better than Ford in the emotional intelligence category. Sure, the kids helped him let his guard down over the past year, but he was still a work in progress. He didn’t expect himself to be able to give you some life-altering advice when he came out here. He just wanted to make sure you weren’t stuck in your head in your thoughts, blaming yourself… like he was when he was kicked out. 

So to see a smile across your face after everything that happened today was a win in his books.

“Hey Stan… do you think I did Ford hold back all those years ago?” You ask, your fingers finding the sunstone that hung on your neck and twirling it around. Stan had started to pick up that you did that whenever your head was starting to spiral again. He ends up scooting closer to you, “Ya know, I had the same thought as you before about holding Ford back. After all, that’s what I was told when I kicked out of the house - that if it weren’t for me, Ford would’ve gotten into the school of his dreams and my family could’ve gotten out of Glass Shard Beach. ”

Stan pauses and sees you staring at him intently, soaking in his words. He continues onward, “But then I realized that Ford was going to make it happen no matter what. Sure he had to work twice as hard, but he’s tenacious. Like I said, we share one thing in common - we’re both stubborn - when we want something, we fight tooth and nail for it. The thing with Ford is that he thinks with his head over his heart over anything. How his actions and words impact other people along the way doesn’t even cross his mind if it gets him to his goal.”

“So he’s like the world’s most logical bulldozer?” You offer which earns you an earnest laugh from Stan, “Somethin’ like that. The guy has as much tact as a bull in a china shop - no matter how careful he tries to be, he’ll somehow knock something over.”

“So to answer your question, no, I don’t think ya held him back at all. If anything, I don’t think you’re giving yourself as much credit as you should for holding not only him but also McGucket together for so long.” Stan says, reaching over to squeeze your knee in reassurance. Just as he’s about to pull away, you place a hand over Stan’s hand, keeping it there.

“I really don’t know how you did it, Stan. I don’t know how you were able to forgive him after everything.” You comment, still amazed by the journey he’s endured this past year. 

“Well like I said, giving him a good punch once in a while really lets some steam off.” Stan grins at your playful shove at his comment, “Alright, alright, in all seriousness, there was a part of me that didn’t want to forgive him, but when I thought I lost him for good, none of that mattered. I just wanted my brother back. Having to learn quantum physics and complex math really makes ya forget any grudge you may have been holding onto.”

“In return, Ford made it up to me every single day this past year, helping me get my memories back. Underneath all that stubbornness and logic is a guy that would move mountains for the people he cares about. I just hope you can let him in to show that to you.” Stan finally looks back at you. You give his hand that still rests atop of your knee a squeeze and give him a nod before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

His spine stiffens at the sudden feeling, and yet you don’t pull away, the two of you watching the sunset in silence.

The levity and reassurance Stan brought with his responses was just what you needed.

You’re really glad he came to find you.

“Thanks Stan for coming to find me.”

“Don’t think I had much of a choice, not when ya got a 13-year-old girl coming to you in tears.” Stan admits with a shrug.

“She’s got you in the palm of her hand, doesn’t she, you softie?”

“Hey, don’t go telling people that, I’ve got a reputation in this town to uphold.”

-

Stan pulls up to the Mystery Shack, seeing Dipper and Mabel sitting on the steps with Ford standing on the porch behind them. Mabel has Dipper’s hand in a death grip, her eyes puffy from crying, though her expression is lighter as the two flip through last summer’s scrapbook that’s splayed across both of their laps. The two get up, Mabel deflating when she doesn’t see you in the passenger seat.

After parking the car, Stan gets out, and the kids rush over to him. “Grunkle Stan, is she… gone?” Mabel mutters, her voice cracking slightly. He nods his head in the direction of the woods, and the two look up to see you trailing behind Stan in your car. You immediately park it, not even bothering to pull up all the way, and get out of your car. Mabel runs up to you, and you immediately embrace her tightly.

“I’m so sorry that I worried you, Mabel. I promise you I would never leave without saying goodbye.” You look down at the pre-teen, wiping away the stray tears that had started to form. “Good, because if you did, you would’ve missed out on the super cool party I’ve been planning for you and I also made you a scrapbook.” Mabel said through the sniffles, and you let out a laugh, patting her head soothingly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”

You beckon Dipper to join you and Mabel, and with a nudge from Stan, he joins the group hug, smiling when you mess up his hair teasingly. Stan grins at the sight, hearing the crunch of Ford’s boots against the grass as he remarks, “How’d you get her to stop crying?”

“Dipper and a pint of ice cream in the freezer did most of the heavy lifting.” Ford hummed, “I simply supplied the tissues and my company. Apparently a six fingered hug is also an extra finger more comforting.” The twins both let out a laugh that sounds identical, and Ford places a hand on Stan’s shoulder, “Thank you, Stanley. I knew you would know just what to say.” The two watch the younger Pines twins chat with you for a bit before Mabel rushes Dipper back into the shack to continue planning your going-away party.

You walk back over to Stan and Ford, giving Stan a glance, “Mind if I chat with Ford for a bit, Stan? I promise I won’t kill him.” Stan let out a laugh, patting Ford on the back when he gulps, “Don’t bite his head off, sweetheart. I’ll be inside. Gonna see what the kids might be scheming up… I swear they act like we got money growing on trees sometimes.”

As soon as Stan disappears behind the front door, the apologies begin tumbling out of Ford’s mouth, “Listen, Y/N, I am deeply sorry for the pain that I have caused and how careless I was with my words in the past. I should not have tried to rebuttal what you were feeling earl-”

He’s suddenly met by your embrace. He is in shock, his hands limp at his sides. Why are you hugging him instead of chewing him out? Is he supposed to hug you back? Before he can properly determine how to react, you pull back to give him a swift yet playful punch on the shoulder.

“Ow!” Ford recoils, reaching to grab his shoulder before looking down at you incredulously. “What was that for?” You smile, “Wow, that did actually help a lot.” Ford’s eyes narrow before groaning, “Oh god, did Stanley give you that suggestion? I swear, he’s so juvenile.”

“Hey, would you rather get a friendly punch to the shoulder or a verbal lashing?” You offer to which Ford shakes his head in disbelief, “I mean neither but I guess I’ll take the punch instead.” He pauses before looking down at you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “You’re not mad though?”

“I think a part of me still is… What you did back then was really shitty, Ford.” You sigh which causes him to deflate a little. You quickly follow up your statement, “But I’m choosing to not let my anger towards the past cloud how much you have helped me these past two weeks with getting my memories back. I forgive you for what you did in the past… I can tell you’ve done a lot of growing since then.”

Ford’s expression lightens up and he nods in agreement, “Thank you for forgiving me… and you’ve grown as well. While I deeply regret everything that happened back then, I guess it was fate that led us to where we needed to be.”

You blink up at Ford owlishly, “I cannot believe Stanford Pines just said that fate exists. Fate, the concept that you used to say was a cop-out for people to not take agency of their lives.”

“Well you said it yourself, I’ve done a lot of growing. My thinking is a bit more flexible, well.. As flexible as it can be.” 

Stan watches from the attic window as you two laugh, letting out a sigh of relief. He had to admit despite his casual attitude, there was a part of him that was genuinely concerned about leaving the two of you alone - either the two of you would fight with words or you would take Stan’s advice a bit too literally and give Ford a swift uppercut to the jaw.

His shoulders relax. Finally, the dust settled. You and Ford were on the path to forgiveness, and you could spend the rest of your days in Gravity Falls care-free. 

“Grunkle Stan, do you want a message for Y/N?” Mabel asks, handing him the scrapbook.

Stan takes the scrapbook, looking down at Mabel with skepticism, “I dunno, pumpkin. I’m not the best at these kinda things.”

“It doesn’t have to be super fancy, Grunkle Stan. It could be something like your favorite memory with Y/N this summer or something!” Mabel explains. 

Favorite memory, huh? Stan thinks, tapping the pen to his lips.

It suddenly hits Stan like a freight train.

You were still missing your memories of him, and he only had five days to tell you.

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed, abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[sadgirlautumn]

i bought a 12 pack of socks like 5 months ago and i’ve already destroyed all of them + the ones that were still left over from my previous pack 😃

[petrichorvoices]

Venting in tags, free to ignore.

[quitedisastrous]

i wish i could just do nothing for a few days straight. maybe even just sleep for a few days straight. sooo excited for constant misery over the next 20 days

ranting in the tags. i would just scroll past if i were you