#but I will probably be back to normal next week or something

[lanadelspray02]

EVERYTHING I FORGOT, I STILL FELT

paige x azzi

warning: mentions of car crash, memory loss

hey guys sorry its not one of the series i just had this idea stuck in my head. i hope you all like it. let me know :) also this is my first one shot.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 8722

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

Paige Bueckers paced slowly along the baseline, one sneaker squeaking faintly against the polished hardwood floor of the UConn practice gym. The rhythmic dribble of basketballs echoed distantly, mingling with the sharp squeals of sneakers and the laughter of her teammates warming up at the opposite end of the court. Her eyes flicked to the clock above the hoop. Azzi was late. It tugged at something restless inside her, a tension she couldn’t shake.

She slid her phone out of her pocket for the third time in five minutes. No texts. No calls. Not even a meme sent to make her laugh. Paige pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation that wouldn’t quite settle in her chest. It had been nearly three weeks since they’d kissed in the dimly lit hallway outside Azzi’s dorm room, quiet giggles muffled against palms pressed shyly to mouths, breath mingling as whispers of promises tangled between them. Since then, everything had changed, and nothing had.

She still saw Azzi every day. Still texted her, sat next to her at team meetings, and nudged her knee under lunch tables. Still leaned into the ease of their friendship. But under that ease now lived something electric. Something delicate. Something that felt like stepping off the edge of something vast every time Azzi looked at her, like she wanted to kiss her again.

Paige had started to think it was almost easy. They’d always been inseparable. Best friends first. Girlfriend's second, Paige thought with a silent thrill that curled warmly through her chest. But standing alone on the baseline, anxiety prickling under her skin, she realised easy was a fantasy. Caring this much could never be easy.

She looked down at her phone again and opened their messages—not to text, just to look. The last thing Azzi had sent her was a blurry photo of her half-asleep, face buried in her pillow, the caption reading, Come cuddle or I’m suing. Paige had screenshotted it. Twice.

She wasn’t even mad that Azzi was late. She just wanted to know she was okay. She just wanted to hear her voice. Paige’s thumb hovered over the call button.

"Yo, Paige," Nika’s voice echoed from mid-court, ball balanced on her hip as she squinted across the gym. "Your girl forget about practice?"

Paige’s heart stuttered, a brief flare of panic rising in her chest before she masked it with an eye roll and a casual shrug, laughing it off like always. "She’s probably at Starbucks, forgetting the time," she called back, waving dismissively.

"That girl lives at Starbucks," Caroline chimed in from the sidelines. "I'm not convinced she actually sleeps."

Paige smiled faintly, but her fingers were already curling tighter around her phone. She told herself not to be dramatic. Azzi was probably fine. She was probably walking in with that sheepish grin in three minutes. Maybe two.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, lighting up with Azzi’s name. Paige felt the smile tugging at her lips before she’d even unlocked the screen. It was a voice message, short but sweet.

Paige pressed it quickly to her ear, turning away from prying eyes.

"Okay, listen," Azzi’s voice was warm, playful, just for her. "Tell your girlfriend to pick up snacks because I forgot again. Wait—shit, you're my girlfriend. Okay, never mind, I’ll get snacks. Love you, dummy."

Paige laughed softly, heart swelling. "Dummy," she whispered, her voice carrying more affection than mockery. She replayed the message once more, savouring the way Azzi’s voice softened on love you, that instinctive, breathless little laugh she’d made after realising what she said. Like it was normal now. Like it wasn’t still blowing Paige’s heart wide open every single time.

She thought about texting back, something cheeky, something flirty, but before she could even open her keyboard, her phone rang again.

Azzi’s name flashed urgently once more, but the voice that filled Paige’s ear wasn’t Azzi’s.

"Paige," Katie Fudd’s voice shook slightly, and Paige froze. "There’s been an accident. Azzi’s okay, but she’s at the hospital. I thought you should know."

The gym around her fell away. All the sound collapsed into white noise, dull and underwater. Her heart was suddenly loud in her ears, a pounding drum drowning out everything else. She didn’t remember dropping her phone. Didn’t remember grabbing her keys. Only the dull slam of the doors as she pushed out into the hallway, legs moving on instinct, breath hitching painfully in her chest, heart aching with dread.

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

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Paige barely registered traffic lights or the route she took, only the steady shaking in her hands, the way her fingers kept clenching the wheel too tightly, like if she held on hard enough, she could hold the world still, too. Her brain kept flashing through half-finished thoughts: Did Azzi cry? Was she alone? Did she call for her?

She almost ran through the sliding glass doors, sneakers squeaking wildly against the tile floor of the emergency wing. Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the waiting area, eyes darting frantically until she spotted Katie standing near a bank of vending machines, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Paige," Katie said, her voice hoarse with worry. She crossed the space in three strides and pulled her into a hug.

Paige barely returned it, too frozen to do much more than nod and ask, "Is she okay?"

Katie’s eyes were tight, rimmed red. "She’s awake. She has a mild concussion. There’s some memory loss, short-term. They said it’s temporary."

Paige felt her legs threaten to give out beneath her.

"She doesn’t remember…?"

"Not everything. There are gaps. But she asked for you." Katie’s voice gentled, her hand brushing Paige’s arm. "She remembers you. Just… not everything."

That shouldn’t have hurt. But it did.

Paige nodded numbly and followed Katie through the corridor, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly overhead. Every step made her stomach churn worse. By the time they reached Azzi’s door, Paige was trembling.

"You can go in," Katie murmured. "Take your time."

Paige hesitated, her hand hovering just shy of the handle. Then she pushed it open.

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

Azzi was propped up in bed, eyes half-closed, a white bandage over her left temple. Her hair was mussed and her expression dazed, but when she heard the door creak, she turned her head slowly.

"Hey," she murmured hoarsely, lips curling into a weak smile. "You look terrible."

Paige choked on a laugh, blinking quickly. "That’s my line, Az."

Azzi squinted at her, like she was trying to place a face she mostly recognised but couldn’t quite remember all the layers of. Paige’s heart twisted.

"Did I miss practice again?" Azzi asked, blinking slowly.

"Yeah, but I’ll forgive you this time."

Azzi gave a faint smile, then her brow furrowed. "Is it weird that I feel like I forgot something important? Like...really important?"

Paige sat down beside the bed, resting her hands on the edge to keep them from shaking. "It’ll come back. Just give it time."

Azzi sighed and settled back against the pillows. Her eyes fluttered shut again. "You’re always here, Paige. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Paige’s breath caught, her throat tightening with emotion. She reached out and gently brushed her fingers against Azzi’s, whispering softly, "You won’t ever have to find out."

And even though Azzi’s memory was fractured and uncertain, Paige knew this one thing with absolute clarity: She would hold on to every moment they’d had, every kiss, every secret smile, every whisper in the dark, because even if Azzi didn’t remember, Paige would remember enough for both of them.

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

Paige sat quietly beside Azzi’s hospital bed, the lights in the room dimmed to a low, warm glow. Outside, the sky had shifted from dusky pink to a deep, ink-like blue, the city blurred behind tall windows. Machines hummed softly in the background, beeping in slow intervals. Her hand rested gently against Azzi’s, fingertips brushing just enough to feel the rise and fall of her pulse, grounding herself in the rhythm.

Azzi slept soundly now, her body still under the haze of painkillers and exhaustion, but even in sleep her face twitched with slight confusion. Paige studied her with aching reverence, memorizing every detail—the soft flutter of her lashes, the wrinkle in her brow, the scar on her knee that Paige had kissed more times than she could count.

This room was too sterile, too quiet. It made Paige feel like the version of them she loved most was vanishing into the bleached-white walls. She wanted to reach inside herself and pull every memory out, hand them to Azzi like pressed flowers and say, This is where you kissed me the first time. This is where you held my hand before I could admit I needed it. This is what we were, and are, and could be again.

But instead, she just held her hand.

The door creaked softly behind her, and Paige turned to find Katie standing in the doorway, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her eyes were tired, but kind.

“Can we talk?” she asked gently, gesturing toward the hallway.

Paige nodded and stood, careful not to wake Azzi. She gave her hand one last squeeze before quietly following Katie outside.

The hallway was quiet, except for the low murmur of distant voices and the shuffle of nurses' shoes on linoleum. Katie leaned against the wall, arms folded, and looked at Paige for a long moment.

“How’s she doing?” she asked, voice low.

Paige shrugged, her hands finding the hem of her hoodie. “Sleeping. She’s...confused. But calm.”

Katie nodded slowly. “The doctors said the memory loss is from the concussion. They’re optimistic it’ll fade. But... it might not come back all at once.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “She doesn’t remember anything about us.”

Katie’s expression softened. “She remembers you. She asked for you. But yeah—I figured things had changed between you two lately.”

Paige looked up sharply, eyes wide. “Did she... tell you?”

“No,” Katie said gently, a small smile on her lips. “I’m her mother. I see things. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her.”

Paige let out a shaky breath, blinking hard. “We were... together. Not officially. Not publicly. But we were figuring it out. And now she looks at me like I’m just her friend again.”

Katie stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Paige’s arm. “She’ll remember. Or maybe she’ll fall again. Love doesn’t just disappear because memory does.”

Paige’s eyes brimmed with tears she didn’t want to shed. “But what if she doesn’t? What if I’m just waiting around for something that’s never coming back?”

Katie gave her a moment, letting the silence settle between them before speaking. “Then you show up anyway. Like you always have. Let her come to it in her own time.”

Paige nodded, her jaw tight. “I just... I don’t want to push her. Or confuse her.”

“You won’t,” Katie said softly. “Just be there. You’re already doing that better than anyone else could.”

Paige pressed her lips together and nodded again. “Thanks. For calling me.”

Katie smiled. “I knew you’d come. I didn’t even think twice.”

When Paige returned to the room, Azzi was still sleeping, her hand curled loosely against the blanket. Paige resumed her seat and leaned forward, resting her arms against the edge of the bed, her chin tucked between them as she watched Azzi sleep.

She didn’t realise how tired she was until her eyelids started to droop. The emotional weight of the day settled in her bones, dragging her lower into the chair until she was half-slumped against the mattress, her hand still tucked close to Azzi’s.

Somewhere in the early hours of morning, Azzi stirred.

Paige blinked awake, rubbing her eyes, only to find Azzi watching her quietly, head turned toward her on the pillow.

“Hey,” Azzi said softly, voice hoarse but more alert.

Paige sat up straighter, blinking rapidly. “Hey yourself.”

Azzi offered a small, tired smile. “You stayed all night?”

Paige nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Didn’t want to leave.”

“You always take care of me,” Azzi murmured, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face like she was seeing something she didn’t fully recognise, but couldn’t look away from either. “You’re too good to me.”

Paige’s heart twisted. She offered a soft smile. “You’re worth it.”

Azzi’s hand reached out, fingertips brushing Paige’s gently. There was warmth there, familiarity, even if the memory behind it had been stripped away.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered, sincerity shining in her eyes.

“You never have to thank me,” Paige replied, voice thick with the emotion she was barely holding back.

Azzi’s eyelids drooped again, the meds pulling her back under, but Paige sat there long after, unmoving, her heart cracking quietly beneath the surface.

She would stay. She would wait. Even if Azzi never remembered.

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

Azzi came home two days after the accident. The doctors were cautious but optimistic, prescribing rest, light movement, and time. Time was the part no one could define. And time was what Paige feared most.

Katie insisted on staying close, setting up a room in their Airbnb for Azzi so she could rest without distraction. Paige offered to help, and no one had the heart or the nerve to tell her no.

She arrived every morning just after sunrise, coffee in hand, and left only when Azzi fell asleep, sometimes hours after dark. It became a quiet ritual neither of them questioned. Azzi would look up from her blanket, hair sticking out in every direction, and smile sleepily like she’d been waiting for Paige all night. Paige would hand over the coffee without a word, trying not to let her hands shake when their fingers brushed.

"Is this from that place on Chapel Street?" Azzi asked one morning, cradling the cup like it was sacred.

"Obviously," Paige replied, settling onto the couch beside her. "I wouldn’t disrespect you with anything less."

Azzi grinned. "You know my order?"

Paige nodded, casually. Too casual. "You’ve ordered the same thing since freshman year."

Azzi frowned slightly, like that fact belonged to someone else. "I guess I always was loyal."

"You still are," Paige said, softer than she meant to.

That night, Paige stayed late. They sat in the living room watching an old movie, Azzi curled under a blanket with her legs stretched out across Paige’s lap. At some point, she fell asleep like that, head tipped back, breathing slowly. Paige didn’t move. Her hand rested carefully on Azzi’s shin, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against the flannel fabric of her pyjama pants.

Katie walked in at one point, pausing in the doorway. Paige expected her to say something, maybe suggest she go home, get some rest but instead, Katie smiled gently and mouthed, Thank you.

Paige nodded silently, afraid that if she spoke, the fragile stillness of the moment would break.

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

The next morning, Azzi looked better. The swelling around her temple had gone down, and the colour in her cheeks was coming back. She stood at the kitchen counter, frowning at the toaster, half a bagel in her hand.

"Why won’t this thing work?" she muttered.

"You didn’t plug it in," Paige said as she walked in, lifting an eyebrow.

Azzi blinked down at the cord. "Oh."

Paige reached around her to plug it in. Their shoulders touched. Azzi didn’t step back. Paige tried not to think about how natural it felt.

"You okay?" she asked.

Azzi gave her a wry smile. "You keep asking me that."

Paige shrugged, biting her lip. "You keep not answering."

Azzi turned, leaning back against the counter, her eyes scanning Paige’s face like she was trying to match it to something inside her. "I don’t know what to say. I feel like myself, but… not exactly. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and remember everything, and I won’t have to keep asking what day it is or who texted me last week or what I promised I’d do."

Paige nodded, stepping beside her. "You don’t have to rush it. No one’s going anywhere."

Azzi tilted her head slightly. "Not even you?"

Paige’s breath caught. She shook her head. "Especially not me."

Azzi studied her for a long moment, then looked down at her feet. "Good. I don’t want you to."

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

Later that week, Paige brought over a folder of class notes and readings Azzi had missed. They sat cross-legged on the bed, laptops open, a shared bowl of strawberries and nutella between them.

"You really took notes in psych?" Azzi said, impressed. "You never take notes."

Paige smirked. "I did when I knew you’d need them."

Azzi stared at her, a quiet flush rising on her cheeks. "You’re kinda amazing, you know that?"

Paige’s smile faltered for a second. "You’ve told me before."

Azzi blinked, puzzled. "I did?"

"Yeah," Paige said, voice almost inaudible. "A lot, actually."

Azzi didn’t press. She reached into the bowl for another strawberry, dipping it in Nutella before leaning her shoulder lightly against Paige’s. "Well, I’m saying it again."

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

Days blurred into a new rhythm—Azzi slept late, Paige brought breakfast. Azzi would curl up in a hoodie a couple of sizes too big (usually Paige’s), and they’d sit together on the couch or floor, books open but barely read, lost in half-conversations about nothing.

It felt easy. Familiar. Dangerous.

Paige found herself watching Azzi when she laughed too loud at dumb TikToks, when she hummed along to a playlist she didn’t consciously remember making, when she bit her lip while focusing. None of it had changed. Azzi didn’t know their history, but her body remembered. Her smile remembered. The way she leaned into Paige like it was instinct remembered.

And Paige let her.

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

One afternoon, Paige walked in to find Azzi standing in the hallway, staring at a photo collage her mum had given her.

There were dozens of pictures—team photos, snapshots from parties, postgame selfies, sleepy mornings in dorms but one in the corner showed them together in a way nothing else did. It wasn’t posed. It wasn’t silly. It was Azzi sitting on the floor, back against Paige’s chest, both of them laughing, Paige’s chin resting on Azzi’s shoulder like it belonged there. Which, of course, it did.

Azzi turned when she heard the door click shut. Her brow was furrowed.

"Why didn’t anyone tell me about this one?"

Paige stepped closer. "It’s just a photo."

Azzi looked back at it, quiet for a beat. "It doesn’t look like just a photo."

Paige’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Azzi didn’t push. She just stared a moment longer, then peeled the photo from the collage and held it carefully in her hands. "I think this one’s my favorite," she said softly.

And Paige, heart aching, didn’t say a word.

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

Azzi hadn’t been able to focus all day. She’d tried reading, tried stretching, even tried calling her brother just to pass the time, but nothing held. Everything buzzed quietly in the background, dull and unsatisfying. She stared at her phone, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in her messages. Then she typed without thinking: movie?

Paige replied instantly. Omw. Gimme ten.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

Azzi opened it to find Paige balancing two bottles of lemonade under one arm and a bag of peanut M&M’s in her hand. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore that old, oversized UConn hoodie Azzi loved—the one that had a tiny tear near the collar and sleeves permanently pushed up. She looked so familiar it made Azzi’s chest ache in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You sure this is a movie night and not a sugar coma setup?” Paige teased, holding out the snacks.

Azzi stepped back to let her in, smiling. “I’m concussed, not dead.”

Paige laughed as she dropped onto the couch and made herself comfortable, stretching her long legs across the cushions and tossing the candy onto the coffee table. Azzi plopped beside her, tucking one leg under the other and reaching for the remote.

They scrolled aimlessly for a while, neither one really caring what they chose. Eventually, they settled on something light—a rom-com Azzi only vaguely remembered. Paige made a joke about cliche dialogue within the first ten minutes, and Azzi laughed harder than she had all week.

About halfway through the movie, Azzi pulled a blanket off the armrest and draped it over them both without asking. Her legs stretched out, and somewhere between banter and silence, they tangled slightly with Paige’s. She didn’t bother pulling away.

Paige didn’t either.

The blanket warmed the space between them, but Azzi could feel Paige’s body heat more distinctly than anything else. The side of her thigh, the brush of her knee, the subtle tension in Paige’s shoulder that hadn't been there an hour ago.

She tried to focus on the screen, but it was no use.

She was too aware.

Aware of how Paige shifted closer every time she laughed. How Paige bit her bottom lip when she was trying not to smile too hard. How Paige's fingers grazed the hem of her own hoodie—Azzi’s, technically and rubbed the fabric like it held secrets.

Azzi’s heart beat a little faster.

She didn’t understand why, not entirely. But it wasn’t new. Not really.

Not in how natural it felt to lean her head toward Paige’s shoulder when her body started to sink lower into the couch. Not in how she didn’t flinch when their knees pressed together.

There was a comfort in it. An ache, too, like she was standing in the middle of something beautiful and important that she should know how to name.

A particularly cheesy line in the movie made both of them snort-laugh at the same time, and Paige reached for the popcorn in the bowl balanced on Azzi’s lap. Their hands brushed, palm against palm, fingers accidentally tangling for half a second too long.

Azzi’s breath caught.

So did Paige’s.

Neither of them moved.

The moment stretched, a crackle of quiet tension threading between them, and Azzi felt the strange urge to lean forward. To close the distance. To see what it would feel like to touch Paige on purpose.

But she didn’t. She pulled her hand back slowly, her fingers trembling faintly. “Sorry,” she said, voice quiet.

“Don’t be,” Paige replied, eyes still on her hand, her voice even quieter.

Azzi wanted to ask what are we doing, but she didn’t. Instead, she shifted slightly, pretending to focus back on the screen, even though the words had blurred into background noise.

A few minutes passed. Paige stood to grab drinks.

Azzi watched her go, gaze trailing across Paige’s frame in that hoodie and those familiar grey sweats, the way loose strands of her bun swung against her back as she moved. She watched without thinking, without meaning to stare, but she didn’t look away either.

It was like muscle memory. Like her heart remembered something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

When Paige returned, Azzi forced herself to glance back at the screen, but the weight of what almost happened lingered.

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

Later That Night

The credits had rolled. The lights stayed dim. Paige made no move to leave, and Azzi didn’t want her to.

They were still curled under the blanket, the air between them softer now. Slower.

“I don’t remember that movie at all,” Azzi murmured, breaking the silence. “But I think I’ve seen it before.”

Paige looked over. “You have. You made me watch it freshman year during finals week. Said it helped you not panic.”

Azzi blinked. “Really?”

Paige nodded, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “You fell asleep twenty minutes in. I stayed up and finished it alone.”

Azzi frowned. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not,” Paige said, her smile deepening. “You drooled on my hoodie.”

Azzi laughed, embarrassed but delighted. “Well. Sorry for being disgusting.”

“You’re not,” Paige said easily. “It was kinda cute.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Azzi stilled. She looked at Paige carefully, something shifting behind her eyes.

“You always talk to me like this,” Azzi said slowly, “like I mean something more than just... a friend.”

Paige’s mouth parted slightly, but she said nothing.

Azzi swallowed. “Did I? Before all this—did I ever say anything to you that would explain why this feels so—”

She stopped herself.

So much.

Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You didn’t need to.”

Azzi looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but I know it’s not nothing.”

Paige let the silence settle before answering.

“I know,” she said softly. “It never was.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Paige leaned back against the couch armrest, and Azzi slowly, deliberately, let her head drop gently onto Paige’s shoulder. Paige didn’t move. She just exhaled slowly, like maybe she’d been holding her breath for weeks.

Azzi fell asleep like that, curled beneath the blanket, Paige’s shoulder beneath her cheek, their hands barely touching.

And when she woke up hours later, Paige was still there—wide awake, unmoving, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, but her hand now resting lightly over Azzi’s.

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

Azzi couldn’t sleep.

It was just after six in the morning, and the sky outside her bedroom window was still the colour of slate, the first hints of dawn barely bleeding into the horizon. The ceiling above her was too still. The sheets were too warm. Her thoughts buzzed restlessly, like they were reaching for something just out of frame.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and stared at the lock screen. No new messages. Nothing missed.

But the silence wasn’t what made her chest ache. It was the weight of all the missing pieces. The blank spaces in her head. The sense that she’d left a version of herself behind somewhere and no one had told her how to get back to it.

She didn’t want to wake her mum. Didn’t want to sit in bed another hour trying to calm the unease curling in her stomach. So she opened her messages and tapped Paige’s name.

Azzi: u awake?

The three dots appeared before she’d even locked her phone again.

Paige: always. what’s wrong?

Azzi hesitated, then typed: coffee walk?

Paige’s reply came almost immediately.

Paige: 10 mins. hoodie weather.

Azzi smiled to herself. Ten minutes later, when she opened the door, Paige was already there.

She was wearing sweatpants and a grey hoodie Azzi was almost certain used to belong to her. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she held out a steaming to-go cup with both hands like it was an offering.

“Hi,” Paige said softly, almost shy.

“Hi,” Azzi echoed, letting the warmth of the coffee sink into her hands.

They started walking without saying much, sneakers crunching lightly on the sidewalk as they made their way across campus. The buildings still looked half-asleep, bathed in pale orange from the first light of the sun. There was a chill in the air that tugged at their sleeves and brought a faint pink to Paige’s nose.

Azzi looked over at her and realised, for the first time, that she felt better. Not fixed. Not whole. But better.

“How long have we been doing this?” Azzi asked suddenly.

“Doing what?” Paige glanced sideways at her, brow lifted.

Azzi gestured vaguely between them. “This. Walking around at ungodly hours. You knowing my coffee order. Showing up without even asking what I meant.”

Paige gave a soft laugh. “Since freshman year, I think.”

Azzi nodded slowly, letting the information settle. “Feels like longer.”

Paige didn’t answer. She just sipped her drink and kept walking, letting the silence be easy.

They reached the little green space behind the library and sat on the stone ledge beneath the old tree where students usually studied in spring. The leaves above them were starting to turn, early red and gold flickering in the breeze.

Azzi exhaled slowly. “I hate this.”

Paige turned toward her. “Hate what?”

“Not remembering. Feeling like I’m... watching my life instead of living it. Like everyone’s waiting for me to be someone I don’t feel like anymore.”

“You’re still you,” Paige said gently.

Azzi looked down at her shoes. “Am I? Because I feel like a stranger to myself. Like I’m trying to be the version of me everyone expects, but I don’t know what that version even is.”

Paige leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. Her voice was soft but steady. “You’re not a stranger to me.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the conviction in her tone.

“You’re still the same girl who drinks her iced coffee way too fast and complains about the brain freeze for ten minutes,” Paige continued. “You still mumble song lyrics when you don’t know the words, and you still get too competitive during board games.”

Azzi smiled, just barely.

“And you still talk with your hands when you get excited, and scrunch your nose when something’s too salty, and hum under your breath when you’re trying to focus.”

Azzi looked at her, quiet for a long time. “You really notice all that?”

Paige didn’t look away. “I’ve always noticed you.”

Something shifted in Azzi’s chest. Something slow and warm and terrifying. She felt the air around her change, just subtly, but enough that her breath caught.

“Do you think,” she said, voice smaller now, “people can forget things in their mind but still... feel them in their body? Like something important happened, but your heart remembers even if your brain doesn’t?”

Paige’s face softened, the corners of her mouth tugging just slightly.

“I think,” she said quietly, “some things stay even when everything else fades.”

Azzi looked away, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

“When I’m around you,” she said, “I feel like... more me. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel safer. Calmer. Like I’m not completely broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Paige said immediately. “You’re healing.”

Azzi blinked fast, the sudden sting behind her eyes taking her by surprise.

She laughed once, watery. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“I mean it,” Paige whispered.

They sat there for a long time, quiet and still beneath the early morning sky.

Eventually, Azzi shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing Paige’s. She didn’t pull away. Paige didn’t either.

Their hands rested close on the ledge, just inches apart. Azzi glanced down at them, then up at Paige’s profile, her ponytail catching the light like honey in the sun.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Azzi murmured.

Paige turned to her slowly. “You have.”

Azzi looked at her for a long time, eyes searching.

But she didn’t ask.

And Paige didn’t tell.

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

Azzi was cleared for light shooting.

That’s what the doctors called it, “light shooting��, like it wasn’t the first real piece of herself she’d been given back in weeks. Paige was the first person she texted.

Azzi: gym w me?

Paige: name a time and I’m there

So now they were alone in the practice gym, the lights soft overhead, the echo bouncing off the walls in familiar patterns. Azzi stood at the free-throw line with a ball in her hands, forehead creased in concentration.

“God,” she muttered, “this already feels weird.”

“It’s been like ten days,” Paige pointed out gently, standing near the baseline with her hands in her pockets.

“Feels like ten years.”

Azzi took a deep breath, then bent her knees and shot.

The ball clunked off the back iron, ricocheted awkwardly off the rim, and bounced out to the right.

Azzi groaned. “Cool. I forgot how to play basketball. That’s awesome.”

“You’re literally recovering from a head injury,” Paige said, jogging after the ball. “Calm your ego.”

“I don’t have an ego,” Azzi muttered.

Paige tossed the ball back, arching a brow. “That’s hilarious.”

Azzi couldn’t help it—she smiled.

They ran slow drills for a while. Azzi was cautious, hesitant on her feet, favouring the side with the fading bruise on her temple. Paige kept a respectful distance, never pushing, never instructing. She just passed, retrieved rebounds, and offered quiet encouragement that Azzi pretended not to need.

But she felt it. Every time.

After ten minutes, Azzi wiped her forehead with her sleeve and let the ball bounce away, hands on her hips. “Okay,” she said, breathless. “I’m officially garbage now.”

Paige grinned. “You hit like seven shots in a row.”

“I used to hit ten.”

“You also used to sleep through morning lift and call that mental training.”

Azzi snorted. “Still valid.”

Paige walked over and nudged her shoulder with her own. “You’re doing fine, Az. Seriously.”

Azzi turned to her, eyes searching. “I hate that my body knows what to do, but my head keeps second-guessing everything.”

“You just need reps,” Paige said. “Your body remembers because it’s yours. It hasn’t forgotten you.”

Azzi looked down, letting the words sink in.

And maybe it wasn’t just her body that remembered. Maybe it was the way she felt when Paige stood close like this. The calm. The charge. The strange hum beneath her skin that only existed around her.

“Can we try footwork?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.

Paige blinked. “Footwork? Like, agility ladders?”

“No—like closeout stuff. Slides. Balance drills.”

“You sure?”

Azzi nodded, determined. “I need to try.”

Paige retrieved two cones from the sideline and set them up at the elbows. Azzi stepped to the top of the key, knees bent, arms slightly raised.

“Okay,” Paige said, crouching across from her, holding the ball like bait. “When I jab, you slide. Small steps, low base.”

Azzi nodded, eyes narrowing.

Paige faked left. Azzi slid right.

Paige jabbed right. Azzi recovered.

It was clumsy at first, too careful, too measured. But Azzi’s instincts kicked in, movements getting quicker, smoother, more confident.

Then Paige faked high and stepped forward.

Azzi reacted too fast; her foot caught slightly on the slick floor, and her balance tipped. She felt the slip coming but couldn’t stop it in time.

She pitched forward, breath catching and Paige was there.

Strong hands caught her waist, arms steadying her before she hit the ground. Azzi gasped, startled, her face just inches from Paige’s chest, her hands instinctively grabbing her hoodie to stay upright.

Paige didn’t let go. Didn’t say anything.

They stood like that for a beat too long.

Azzi could feel the press of Paige’s fingers against her ribs, the firm grip just above her hipbones. Her own hands clung tightly to the front of Paige’s sweatshirt. Their faces were close enough for Azzi to see the darker flecks in Paige’s blue eyes. Her hair rested against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her breath warm against Azzi’s forehead.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Her heart was thudding wildly, not just from the near-fall, but from the way Paige had caught her like it was second nature. Like it wasn’t even a question.

“You always catch me,” she whispered.

Paige’s arms loosened slowly, reluctantly. “Always will.”

Azzi stepped back gently, face flushed, breath still uneven. She brushed her hands over her thighs like it would hide the way they trembled.

“Sorry,” she muttered, eyes flicking down.

“Don’t be,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “It happens.”

But Azzi wasn’t sure she was talking about the stumble anymore.

They ran one more slow drill—Azzi insisting, Paige pretending not to notice her hands shaking—then called it. Azzi grabbed her water bottle and sat on the edge of the court, legs stretched out, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Thanks for coming,” she said as Paige sat beside her.

“I’d come every day if you let me.”

Azzi looked at her, startled.

Paige didn’t take it back.

Azzi smiled faintly, then turned her eyes toward the far basket, watching a lone freshman practising threes on the other end.

“You feel like home,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice small.

Paige turned her head slowly.

Azzi kept her eyes forward. “I don’t know why I said that. It just… came out.”

Paige didn’t push. She didn’t smile or tease or ask if Azzi meant it.

She just reached down, brushed her hand lightly over Azzi’s, and said, “Good.”

Azzi looked down at their hands. Then laced her fingers through Paige’s, quiet and deliberate.

And Paige, stunned into stillness, laced hers back.

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

The common room at Aubrey’s place was packed, with couch cushions thrown everywhere, half-eaten boxes of pizza on the counter, and the hum of conversation layered over the background chaos of Mario Kart on the TV. Someone had dimmed the lights and lit three cinnamon-scented candles on the windowsill, which Paige immediately made fun of and then admitted smelled “stupid good.”

Azzi had shown up a little late, trying not to seem too eager about being there. She told herself it was just for the team, just for the bonding. It definitely wasn’t because Paige had texted “u coming? it’s weird without u here.”

She was nursing a ginger ale when Aaliyah slid onto the couch beside her and nudged her with her knee.

“You still recovering?” Aaliyah asked, gesturing at the can in her hand.

Azzi nodded. “Light stuff only. Doctor’s orders.”

Aaliyah leaned back, her voice dropping to a teasing tone. “Bet you’re milking it for sympathy, though.”

Azzi snorted. “Obviously.”

Across the room, Paige was talking to Aubrey and Inés, her smile wide, arms animated as she mimicked something that had clearly just happened in the game. Azzi’s eyes locked onto her instinctively.

She couldn’t help it anymore. Watching Paige had become a reflex, like her body was trying to remember something her mind couldn’t reach.

The group shifted a little, and Aaliyah stood up to refill her drink. Paige took the opportunity to slide into the now-vacant seat next to Azzi without hesitation. She didn’t announce it, didn’t ask, just plopped down and leaned back, her thigh pressing against Azzi’s in the narrow space.

Azzi tried not to react. Tried not to tilt her knee into Paige’s just a little more. But Paige was warm beside her, familiar in a way Azzi still didn’t have words for.

“You look bored,” Paige said, offering her a chip.

Azzi took it, crunching slowly. “You look like you’ve been winning all night.”

“Lies. Ice smoked me in three straight races. She’s ruthless.”

Azzi laughed. “I believe it.”

Paige smiled at her, something soft and steady in her eyes.

Azzi’s chest did that thing again—tight and fluttering and kind of painful in a way that wasn’t bad.

Before she could say anything, Aaliyah returned.

And dropped right back into the seat on Paige’s other side.

“Okay,” Aaliyah announced loudly. “I’ve decided I’m emotionally ready to race again.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that?” Paige grinned.

Azzi shifted slightly, suddenly very aware of the way Aaliyah leaned toward Paige when she laughed. The way she touched her arm when she teased her. The way Paige didn’t pull away.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

They were friends.

They were all friends.

But something hot and uncomfortable prickled at the back of Azzi’s neck. She sat a little straighter. Pulled her legs closer. Didn’t say a word.

Aaliyah bumped Paige’s shoulder with hers. “Let’s team up this time. You and me against the world.”

Paige chuckled, but before she could answer, she looked over at Azzi.

Their eyes met. And for a moment, the room fell away.

Paige’s expression changed—just slightly, but enough that Azzi saw it. Like she knew. Like she could feel what Azzi wasn’t saying.

She didn’t team up with Aaliyah.

Instead, she stood, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and when she returned, she sat back down beside Azzi, closer this time.

Azzi blinked in surprise when she felt Paige’s hand brush hers under the blanket someone had thrown across the couch. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t obvious. Just the soft press of pinky to pinky.

But it felt like a declaration.

Azzi stared straight ahead, heat crawling up her throat. Her heart pounded, thudding like it had something to prove.

“I’m not very good at Mario Kart,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige leaned in just enough for Azzi to feel the whisper of her breath against her cheek. “Good thing I’m terrible. We’ll suck together.”

Azzi bit back a smile.

She didn’t look at Aaliyah.

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

Later, when most of the group had left or retreated to other rooms, Azzi found herself alone in the kitchen, rinsing out her cup at the sink. The candlelight from the other room flickered against the dark backsplash. The silence felt strange after all the noise.

She didn’t hear Paige come in until she was standing just behind her.

“Hey.”

Azzi turned, startled. “Hey.”

Paige leaned back against the counter, arms folded loosely. Her voice was quiet. “You okay?”

Azzi hesitated. Then she nodded. “Yeah.”

Paige tilted her head slightly. “You sure?”

Azzi exhaled slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Azzi stared at the floor. “Were you and Aaliyah ever… a thing?”

Paige blinked. “What?”

Azzi flushed. “Sorry. That was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

But Paige shook her head, stepping forward. “No—it’s not stupid.”

There was a pause. Then Paige said, simply, “No. We weren’t.”

Azzi looked up. “But she flirts with you.”

Paige gave her a small, knowing smile. “She flirts with everyone.”

Azzi didn’t smile back.

Paige’s gaze softened. “But I don’t flirt back. Not with her.”

Azzi felt her pulse in her fingertips. “Do you flirt with me?”

Paige’s voice lowered. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Azzi didn’t know what to say to that.

She didn’t know how to explain the fire curling in her chest. The way she wanted to reach out and touch Paige’s hand again, just to feel grounded. The way seeing Paige laugh with someone else felt like losing something she hadn’t even realised she had.

So she just said, “Good.”

Paige stepped closer, now just inches between them.

“You okay now?” she asked again, softer this time.

Azzi nodded.

Paige smiled, and Azzi knew, deep in the pit of her chest, that she wasn’t imagining this.

Whatever this was, it was real.

Even if she still didn’t remember the whole story, her heart was starting to write it anyway.

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

Azzi didn’t want to be alone that night.

She told herself it was just the headache creeping back in, that she didn’t trust herself to sleep without waking up in a panic again. But the truth was simpler, quieter, and infinitely harder to admit: she just wanted Paige nearby.

So she texted her at 10:42 p.m. while curled under a blanket, the glow of the TV flickering across her legs.

Azzi: head hurts again. don’t wanna be alone.

Paige: I’m already in the parking lot.

Azzi smiled, biting her lip.

Ten minutes later, Paige slipped through the door, wearing her usual loose sweatpants and a worn UConn hoodie that Azzi swore used to be hers before it became part of Paige’s wardrobe rotation. Her hair was still damp from a late shower, leaving faint spots of moisture darkening the collar of her sweatshirt.

She held up a Ziplock bag with two ice packs in it like it was an offering. “For your headache.”

Azzi took them, warm all over. “You’re kind of amazing.”

Paige shrugged, toeing off her shoes. “Kind of? Rude.”

Azzi laughed, already feeling better. They didn’t talk much after that. The TV played quietly in the background, some random sport doc neither of them paid attention to, and Azzi dimmed the lights until the room felt soft and weightless. They lay side by side on the bed, under the same blanket, Paige on her back, Azzi curled slightly on her side, facing her.

At some point, Paige turned her head to look at her.

“Still hurting?” she asked.

“Not really.” Azzi paused. “You helped.”

Paige’s expression gentled. “I’m glad.”

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but charged, like a string pulled taut and humming.

“Can I ask you something?” Azzi whispered.

“Anything.”

Azzi’s voice was soft and uncertain, like it might break apart midair. “Do you think people can fall in love more than once?”

Paige blinked, caught.

Azzi watched her. “Like, with the same person. Twice. Even if they don’t remember the first time.”

Paige’s breath hitched.

She turned onto her side, facing Azzi fully now, their knees bumping lightly under the blanket. Her voice, when it came, was barely audible. “I think… sometimes they never stopped.”

Azzi stared at her.

Something flickered across her face—recognition, maybe. Or the ghost of something close. She reached out without thinking, brushing her fingers across Paige’s wrist. “You always know what to say.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound frayed at the edges. “That’s new.”

Azzi’s hand lingered, thumb resting lightly over Paige’s pulse. She could feel it—steady but fast. Or maybe it was hers. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

“You make me feel safe,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige swallowed. “You are safe.”

“I know. It’s just… when you’re around, I don’t feel lost. Even when I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m feeling something I can’t explain—when you’re here, it doesn’t scare me as much.”

Paige didn’t respond with words. She just reached up and tucked a strand of Azzi’s hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for a breath too long.

“You’ve said that before,” Paige murmured.

Azzi’s heart jumped. “I have?”

Paige nodded slowly, her voice a whisper. “Almost the same words. That night we sat out by the dorm steps—you said I made you feel like you could breathe.”

Azzi stared at her, eyes wide.

Then, quietly, “We’ve had this conversation before?”

Paige hesitated. Then nodded again.

Azzi let her hand slide down from Paige’s wrist to her hand, twining their fingers together between them on the blanket.

“You keep saying things like that,” Azzi said. “Like we weren’t just friends.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi leaned in a little, breath barely audible. “Were we?”

The question hovered between them like a held breath.

Paige closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were glassy, full of things unsaid.

“You were my favourite person,” she said. “Before. And after.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “You’re mine.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick with everything they weren’t saying.

Eventually, Azzi’s eyes grew heavy, her breathing slowing. She curled closer, head pressing gently against Paige’s shoulder, arm draped across her stomach.

“Stay,” she murmured.

Paige didn’t move. “Always.”

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

Sometime in the middle of the night, Paige lay awake, Azzi’s body warm and soft against her side, their legs tangled under the blanket. She could feel Azzi’s breath against her collarbone. Could feel the shape of her hand still resting lightly on her stomach.

She ached.

Ached to tell her everything. Ached to say You already fell. I already caught you. We’ve already done this—together. Ached to ask if they could do it all over again.

But she didn’t.

Because Azzi was finally here, and Paige couldn’t risk losing her again—not even to the truth.

Instead, she pressed a kiss to Azzi’s hair and whispered into the dark, “You never stopped loving me.”

And she pretended not to feel the way Azzi tightened slightly in her sleep—like even in dreams, some part of her still knew.

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

It was raining outside.

Not the dramatic kind, just a soft, steady drizzle tapping against the windows, soaking the pavement in a thin sheen of silver. The world looked quieter through it, muted and still. Inside Azzi’s room, a playlist hummed low from the speaker Paige had left there months ago, one Azzi found herself playing more and more lately without knowing why.

She was curled on the couch in one of Paige’s old hoodies, bare legs tucked under her, a psychology textbook forgotten on the coffee table. The rain had lulled her into stillness. Her fingers rested loosely around a mug of tea she hadn’t sipped in fifteen minutes.

She didn’t even flinch when she heard the key in the lock.

“Hi,” Paige said softly, stepping in and pushing the door closed behind her. She looked a little windblown—hair damp near her temples, hoodie sleeves shoved up to her elbows, cheeks flushed from the cold.

Azzi’s heart did that quiet skipping thing it always did now.

“You’re soaked,” she said, setting her mug aside.

Paige shrugged. “Didn’t want to wait.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Wait for what?”

Paige hesitated, like the answer was too fragile to say yet. She kicked off her sneakers and padded into the room, curling beside Azzi without asking, without checking. They always sat this close now, touching at the shoulders, knees grazing, breath shared like a secret neither of them named.

Azzi watched her. Watched the way her eyes drifted around the room before finally settling on her.

“There’s something I’ve been trying to remember,” Azzi said, her voice barely above the rain. “Something just out of reach. Like I dream it and forget it before I wake up.”

Paige said nothing.

Azzi looked down at her hands. “But it’s not just in my head. I feel it. In the way you look at me. The way I…” She paused. “The way I feel when I look at you.”

Paige’s chest rose slowly. She turned, just slightly, so their knees fully touched now.

Azzi swallowed hard. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Paige’s breath caught.

Azzi continued, quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she should say it aloud. “Or maybe I already did. And my body just... remembers.”

Paige’s hand reached out slowly, brushing Azzi’s cheek, fingers trembling as they tucked a curl behind her ear. “You did,” she whispered. “You fell for me first.”

Azzi blinked.

Paige’s hand dropped to her lap. Her eyes didn’t waver. “We were already together. Before the accident.”

Azzi stared at her, breath frozen in her chest.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Paige continued, voice shaking now. “I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to remember something just because I did. But you weren’t just my best friend. You were—” her voice broke slightly— “you were mine. And I was yours.”

Azzi said nothing. Didn’t move.

Paige looked down, ashamed of the tears in her eyes. “I thought maybe if I was just close enough, gentle enough, you’d find your way back. But maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe I was just scared you wouldn’t—”

“I did,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice firm and raw and low.

Paige looked up, startled.

Azzi’s hand moved quickly, cupping the side of Paige’s face. “I didn’t know what it was. But I felt it. Every time you walked into a room. Every time you said my name. Every time you didn’t say anything at all, and I still felt steadier.”

Paige’s tears spilled freely now.

“I thought I was losing my mind,” Azzi whispered. “Because no one has ever made me feel the way you do. And I didn’t have the memory to prove it, but I had everything else—my heart, my body, my bones—they all remembered you.”

Paige couldn’t speak.

So Azzi kissed her.

It wasn’t tentative this time. It wasn’t a whisper or a maybe. It was full and sure and slow. Their mouths moved like they remembered each other, like muscle memory had always been waiting for permission.

When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Azzi smiled through her tears.

“You didn’t need to wait for me to remember,” she said softly. “I was already falling in love with you again.”

Paige laughed, half a sob. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

Azzi shook her head. “You didn’t lose me. You just had to remind me.”

They stayed like that, curled into each other, the sound of rain filling the space between kisses and laughter and quiet tears.

Azzi rested her head against Paige’s shoulder and whispered, “Tell me everything. Every second I forgot. I want it all back.”

Paige wrapped her arms around her and held her like she’d waited a lifetime.

And began.

[sinofwriting]

Glowing - Charles Leclerc

Words: 631 Summary: Charles comes home and everything falls away when he sees her.

Masterlist | Support Me!

The exhaustion isn’t deep set into his bones, not yet, but he knows he's on the edge. Eight days away from home, away from her does that to him. He’s not sure how he’s going to handle the last part of the season depending on how things go and dread curls in his gut just considering it.

The exhaustion, the dread, the guilt that she’d smack him for holding, seeps out of him as soon as he crosses the entryway and sees her.

She’s resting on the couch, fast asleep, a throw pillow under her head, his PT pillow under her lower back and he’s kicking off his shoes.

Charles pretty much falls to his knees beside the couch, eyes glued to the exposed skin of her stomach, her, rather his, sweatshirt rucked up and her hand resting protectively on the just barely there swell.

It’s the smallest change, just barely there, but he knows her body so well that it was glaringly obvious even from the entryway. His fingers reach out and touch, gentle, featherlight, not wanting to disturb her, not when she’s carrying, growing, their baby, doing all the hard work, but he needs to touch, to not just see but feel.

She snuffles a little at the touch and he stills, fingers wanting to twitch and his eyes move from her stomach to her face and his lips move into a grin. She’s glowing, her face is lax with sleep and peaceful rest, and she’s glowing. He hadn’t quite understood the jokes and things on the internet and from his one friend about how there was something about when someone carried your child they became even more beautiful, but she had, something he had thought was impossible, but she had always done that to him.

She had become more beautiful after the first time he woke up next to her, watched her get ready for a race, the first time she had been there after he won a race, and now she was somehow even more gorgeous carrying their child.

“You’re staring.” She mumbles and he smiles, hand moving to rest on top of hers while he leans in to brush their lips together, enjoying the way she tries to follow him for another kiss, eyes still closed.

“You’re showing.”

She smiles, eyes finally fluttering open. “I know. I have an appointment tomorrow.”

His brows furrow in concern, “Your appointment is on the ninth.”

“I’m probably keeping that one, but I noticed this,” she gives a gentle pat to her stomach, “two days ago.”

“It’s normal, no? To show, I thought?”

He had meant to start reading that pregnancy book but had only caught a few excerpts too busy with simulator work and then the race weekend.

“Not at eleven weeks. And not for my first pregnancy.”

“You think something is wrong?”

“No,” She intertwines their fingers, soothing him instantly. “I just think maybe they got the conception date wrong or,” she pauses, biting at her lip.

He frowns, reaching with his free hand and pulling it away. “What?” Charles’ voice is gentle, his turn to be soothing.

“It could be twins. People can show this quickly when expecting multiples.”

“Twins?” His eyes are wide and they drop back to her stomach and he’s gently, so gently, moving her hand away from her stomach and pressing his lips to the skin. “Twins, we could be having twins.”

She laughs, a wide smile spreading across her face at his excitement at the idea. “Most guys would not be having this reaction.”

He shakes his head, moving to kiss her. “They are our babies, I’d be happy if there were five.”

She winces at the thought, but he’s kissing her before she can say anything to the thought, the idea.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Dogs IV

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Child!Reader

Summary: You get a Baby Sibling

"That not a baby," You insist, words slightly slurred and jumbled together," Is a picture."

"A picture of a baby," Lucy explains, pointing at the weird blob things and odd shapes.

"No," You say with a shake of your head," Baby don't look like that."

"It's the baby in Ona's tummy," Lucy tries again," Remember? We talked about having a little sibling for you. Ona's growing your little sibling."

You throw a look of disbelief over at Ona.

She doesn't look like she's growing anything. She just looks normal. If she were growing a baby, you think she'd look a lot more tired.

You're still growing and sometimes your arms ache and your back hurts and you get tired super easily.

You know all about growing and Ona doesn't look like she's growing anything at all.

"Don't lie," You tell Lucy," Lying's bad."

"I'm not...I'm not lying!"

"I tell Mummy on you!"

You've got Lucy's phone in your hand before she can even think, scuttling off with it up the stairs before Lucy can blink.

"She'll come around," Ona tells her softly," It's a big change for her. She probably still thinks she's getting a puppy."

Lucy groans, a hand swiping over her face. "Keira told me she and Laura were thinking about getting her a puppy for Christmas."

"A puppy and a new baby sibling," Ona says with a smile," It sounds like we'll be a full house."

"Don't remind me."

You don't think much about potentially having a baby in the house for a long while after that. It doesn't even cross your mind to connect the new baby to the way Ona's stomach has started getting bigger and bigger.

You touch it in awe, tapping it a few times with narrowed eyes.

"Is everything alright?" She says with a small laugh as you come over one day while she lays on the sofa and scrolls through her phone.

A mindless cartoon plays on the tv but you're not watching it.

"You're fat," You tell her bluntly.

"We don't call people fat!" Lucy hollers from the kitchen," Apologise to your Mami."

"Sorry, Mami, for calling you fat," You say obediently," But you are."

You can hear Lucy groan but Ona laughs, sitting up and pulling you onto the sofa next to her.

"Do you know why I'm getting bigger?"

You frown. "You very hungry?"

"Sort of. Do you know why I'm hungry all the time?"

"'Cause you got a big belly?"

"Because I'm growing the baby, remember? This is all the baby."

"Baby is fat?"

Ona shows you her fist, waving it slightly in your face to keep your attention. "The baby is all scrunched up in my belly like this. There's not a lot of room for them so my belly grows to help them have a bit of space. As the baby grows, so do I."

You force Ona's hand open. "So...baby get big and so do you?"

"That's right."

"When my puppy mummy grew me...she was fat too?"

Ona nods. "Because you used to be all scrunched up in her tummy too and mummies need to grow a bit so their babies can grow."

You nod, piecing things together in your head slowly. "And when baby is hungry, mummies are hungry too?"

"That's right, pup! You're so smart!"

You nod a few times as you look at Ona's belly, practically rolling yourself off the sofa with little fear as you land on the floor with a thump.

"I get food for you and baby!"

You insist on trying to feed Ona from your plate in the coming weeks, something that Lucy and Ona manage to break you out of after you start only eating half of your dinner to try and save some for Ona and 'Baby Sibling' to eat.

It's a complete turn around to a few months ago when you insisted the only baby in the house was going to be your new puppy.

You seem more relaxed now with the idea of a human baby and more open to helping Lucy out with things like folding baby grows and helping to choose toys.

"Hey," Ona says to you gently one day," Come here, I've got something to show you."

You pad over obediently, abandoning your tug of war game with Coco.

"Close your eyes. No peaking."

Ona takes your hand and presses it up against something.

Everything feels normal for a moment but then there's a fierce piece of pressure against your hand and you squeak, eyes flying open in shock.

"Mami...your belly hit me!"

"It's your Baby Sibling," Ona laughs," They were saying hello."

"Why don't they just speak?"

"Well, they're still in my tummy so they can't speak just yet. They're saying hello with their feet."

You take a step back with a frown. "I have to say hello with my feet too?"

Ona laughs. "No. You can say it with your words."

You crowd into Ona's space again, barely enough space between your mouth and her belly. "Hi, baby," You whisper," Can't wait to meet you soon."

It's weeks later that Lucy comes to you.

You've gotten used to the idea for having a human Baby Sibling after having it explained to you more than twenty times that Ona wouldn't be giving birth to that new puppy you wanted.

"Hey, you," Lucy says one afternoon as you come clambering onto the bench at the park after spending most of your time attempting the climbing frame," I've got something to tell you."

You frown at that, little wrinkles appearing all over your forehead as Lucy laughs and tries to smooth them away. You bat her hands away though and the cute little frown stays on your face, looking so much like Keira that Lucy can't help but laugh.

"What?"

"Well..." Lucy pulls out another ultrasound picture to show to you and you stare blankly.

"Is a baby picture," You tell her," But why? Already seen the baby picture."

"This is a different picture."

You take another look and shake your head.

No matter what either of them say, you can never really see the baby in the picture. They're just kind of weird shapes and black and white colours. Ona and Lucy tell you that it's a picture of the baby and you don't want to upset them by saying that black and white blobs isn't what a baby looks like.

This picture looks like all of the other pictures and you can't see a baby anywhere on it.

"Your Mami and I went to the hospital for another scan, do you remember?" Lucy asks and you nod.

"'Cause baby gets fatter, yes," You say sagely and Lucy muffles a laugh again.

"Well, we found out that the baby is going to be a girl."

"Silly, Mum," You say, patting Lucy's cheek in a way she can only describe as condescending," Baby isn't a girl. Baby is a baby."

"Yes but when the baby is born, it's going to be a girl."

"No, going to be a baby."

Lucy talks in circles with you for nearly an hour before she accepts that you're still stuck on the idea of the baby being a baby and nothing else.

It's something you're stuck on all the way up to the day that Ona goes into hospital.

"Painted Baby's room pink," You tell Mama Laura that afternoon as the two of you sit at the table and draw," 'Cause think that Baby is girl."

"The baby is a girl," Keira says, a soft kiss being placed on your head as she brings you your snack," You know that."

"I know Baby is a baby. Not that Baby is girl."

"She's still struggling to understand what it all means," Keira says to Laura with a small smile on her face," I'm sure she'll work it all out tonight."

"Baby comes tonight," You continue," I know because Mami got ouchies and went to see the do-tors."

"Doctors."

"What I said," You insist stubbornly, reaching for another red crayon to scrawl all over your colouring sheet," Mummy?"

Keira smiles. "Yes, pup?"

"When Mami gonna finish having Baby? Narla and Coco walkie time soon."

In the end, Ona does end up missing Narla and Coco's usual walk time. Lucy misses it as well and so do you as you're put into the car and driven to the hospital.

It's late and you're tired, washed and dried and wrapped up snuggly in your Paw Patrol pjs as you rest your head on Laura's shoulder when she carries you inside.

"Hey, pup." Lucy looks tired too as she takes you from Mama and Mummy. She grits her teeth slightly, an odd nervous look on her face. "There's been a bit of a change?"

You frown at her words. She wasn't this nervous looking earlier in the day when she took Ona to hospital. "Baby change?"

Lucy winces. "That's right."

You gasp, eyes wide. "Baby not a person baby? I get my puppy?!"

"What? No? No! The baby is definitely a human baby." Lucy takes a deep breath. "Do you remember when I told you that the doctors said your baby sibling was a girl?"

You nod.

Behind you, Laura and Keira gasp. Clearly, they now know something you don't.

"Well, the doctors were a bit confused," Lucy says as she gently carries you in," Because you have a little brother. Not a little sister."

Ona is resting on the bed, looking extremely tired but still smiling at you. There's a little bundle wrapped up tight on her chest as she extends her other arm towards you.

"Hey, pup," She coos," Look who decided to join us?"

Your little frown is adorable, a tiny crease appearing between your brows as you try to make sense of what you've been told. "So...not a puppy and not a girl?"

"That's right," Ona says," Is...Is that okay?"

You look at the little bundle as Lucy transfers you onto the bed.

He doesn't look any different to any other baby you've ever seen in your life. Kind of red and wrinkly with a scrunched up little face and what looks like no eyebrows at all though Keira once told you that most babies start off like that.

"Is...Is it going to be smelly? Uncle Jorge is smelly."

That shocks a laugh out of Lucy. "We'll make sure your brother doesn't end up smelly like Jorge."

"And even though Baby is boy, when I get my puppy it still be a girl?"

Ona laughs too. "Yes, pup. I'm sure your puppy will be a girl regardless."

You nod. "Okay." You shuffle a little closer. "Hi Baby." You pat his head softly. "When you awake, I show you pictures of our puppies."

"I don't think he'll be able to understand."

"Never too little to see puppies."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

box of ice-cream. l Harry Castillo

bio : Reader and Harry meet on a date. She thinks they come from different worlds and it doesn't make sense, but he wants her to give him a chance.

requested by : anon thank you!

warnings: fluff, self-doubt, some wine, Harry is sweet, they are just talking, Reader can seem unpleasant and judgmental

[Harry Castillo [The Materialists] - masterlist] [my masterlist]

“I’m just here to prove to you that you don’t really want to date me.”

The man sitting across the table smiled, his brown eyes sparkling in the dim light of the restaurant.

“You can try, but my instincts tell me otherwise.” Harry replied in a warm and polite voice. You had known each other for a few weeks, and ever since then this man had been very insistent on meeting up with you.

It seemed strange to you. You had nothing in common, except for a cup of coffee he accidentally spilled on you at one of the local coffee shops. And yet, you were sitting with him in this fancy restaurant that you would definitely never go to alone.

Harry was observant and immediately noticed that you felt uneasy in such a place. A quick mental note to remember to avoid exclusive places if you were to meet up again. Even though he was casual, you felt like you were at a job interview. The young waiter poured you some wine, and you thanked him with a nod and a gentle smile. There was something charming about it.

“Your hunches can be wrong.” You replied, twirling the long stem of the glass in your fingers. “Besides, you shouldn’t send flowers to my workplace either.”

A small wrinkle appeared between Harry’s dark eyebrows. “You didn’t like them?”

“It’s not like that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “It’s just… People like to gossip, and I don’t need it. Unlike you, my job is normal.” You saw Castillo raise his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t mean to… Damn it.”

“Don’t worry,” he raised his hand in a gentle gesture. “I’m curious that you think my job isn’t normal. So what is it?”

You knew he wouldn't let up until you answered his question. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, finish your wine and leave, but you were still sitting at that table with Harry. He hadn't done anything wrong or offensive, he had just continued talking to you. So you took a shallow breath.

"Yeah, I think your job isn't normal, not really. I mean, my only contact with finances is when I get paid from payroll. You probably spend that much on a suit and shoes. And maybe a coffee on top of that."

He smiled again and leaned in slightly. "I think you're overestimating me."

"Oh, really?" you replied and probably his answer gave you more confidence because the next words started to flow from your lips with more ease "So you had to finish one of the local schools, combining it with a part-time job. Then you looked for employment and started at the entry level, so that after a few years you were still earning... as much as I earn. Harry, we are from completely different worlds. Now I'm sitting with you in this restaurant that I always passed by without looking in its direction, afraid that they would charge me just for looking. This is not normal, this is not how most people live."

"But you can experience it with me. Is that a bad thing?"

"I'm not a damn Cinderella, Harry." You snorted "I don't even like those fairy tales where they convince little girls that a prince on a white horse will appear and give them a new, wonderful life. I work for my own life. And I like it simple."

Despite your words, Castillo didn't seem offended, on the contrary, he watched you with interest, a gentle smile on his lips. Finally he spoke.

"What do you like?"

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

He took a sip of wine and smiled again. “What do you like to do that’s simple and so different from what I do? You talk about it like I hunt ducks in the morning, servants wait on me, and I own a stable full of unicorns.”

You barely held back a laugh, and he was pleased to see your eyes light up. He wanted to hear that laugh, he knew it would delight him. The waiter appeared next to you and you fell silent for a moment as he placed the food you ordered on the table. When he left, you spoke again.

“I definitely don’t eat at restaurants like that.”

Harry bowed his head. “But would you eat if you earned more?”

“Probably? I’m not sure.”

“Okay. What about traveling?” you looked at him like he was joking. “Don’t you have vacation time from work?”

“I do. But I don’t travel anywhere, I mean I rarely leave the state. I once went to visit my aunt in Florida, but I was a kid then. We drove for two days, but it was so exciting.”

“That sounds great.”

You smiled. “That’s how it was. My family didn’t have much, they had their flaws, but they were the ones who shaped me. I work hard, I know my worth, and I don’t delude myself that some prince will save me one day.”

"You see, my family worked hard for what I have now. You shouldn't judge me for the fact that my parents were able to give me all this. You would probably do the same for your child. But I grew up believing that there were standards I had to reach, that I had to show my best side, that I couldn't let anyone down. The pressure was really high, even though my parents really loved me and my brother. We had the best, yes, but we also had to be the best."

"I'm sorry, Harry." You replied quietly, but he just shook his head, smiling.

"There's no need. But I know how easy it is to judge others, it's our nature."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. For the first time, you thought that you might have been tactless and offended him. You didn't mean to, Harry was a really nice guy.

"Anyway, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I... I haven't been on a date in a while, I'm out of practice. I'm not like that in everyday life."

“I believe that you and I would like to see what you are really like. On our next date.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide your smile. Dinner was a lighter affair. You talked about trifles, things you had seen recently, things that made you happy or sad. Harry confided in you that he liked to watch some weird reality show late at night, and to you, that sometimes, when the day was really hard, instead of dinner, you would sit on the kitchen floor and eat ice cream straight from the box.

“We should do this again.” he said as the waiter took the bill, which he paid, and you slowly got ready to leave.

“That would be nice,” you replied automatically and you immediately noticed Harry raising his eyebrows. “You know, if you want. I know I could be a little…”

“You were wonderful. And please don’t be so hard on yourself, because there’s no point. But you have to know that I feel honored that a woman like you agreed to go out with me.”

You rolled your eyes again but felt warmth creeping into your cleavage and neck. One look from him, a few words and the butterflies in your stomach started flying like crazy. You didn’t know what it was about Harry, but he drew you closer with every minute spent together.

You let him drive you home and even kissed your hand goodbye. There was something about this gesture that made you feel really important. He didn’t push, didn’t ask if he could come in for tea or wine. His warm and affectionate gaze followed you to the door and he only got into the car when he saw the light in one of the windows turn on.

The next evening, the doorbell tore you away from your evening activities. You put the book down, a little surprised because you weren't expecting anyone.

"A courier with a package," the voice on the other end sounded.

"I didn't order anything," you replied, surprised. "It must be a mistake."

However, the man gave your name and everything was correct. You let him in, and a moment later he stood in front of your door with a strange box.

"Can you sign for this, ma'am?" he pulled out a small tablet, smiled and quickly ran down the stairs.

The box was strange, not very heavy, but there was definitely something inside. When you opened it, you saw a Styrofoam container with cooling packs inside. Between them...

You hadn't smiled so widely at the sight of a box of ice cream in a long time. You didn't need a note, you knew perfectly well who you got it from. However, you didn't have time to put it in the freezer when you heard the sound of an incoming message.

Harry C. - I hope I've hit the mark for you. Can I count on Thursday night with you? Nothing special. Maybe a movie?

You bit your lip, feeling a smile grow on your lips. You knew from that dinner that you had been too quick to judge Harry, but that little gesture was really sweet and showed that he was really listening to you. So you typed a response without remorse.

You. - Sounds good. Around seven?

The reply came a few seconds later.

Harry C. - I can't wait. I'll pick you up. Enjoy your ice cream.

You couldn't wait for Thursday.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[coffeewasamistake]

Home is where the heart is

For the Mini Pride Bingo hosted by @genderthings.

[AO3]

Prompt: HRT | Rating: T | WC: 1184 | Relationships :Wayne Munson&Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson. Warning: Implied/Referenced child abuse

Summary:

Eddie meet his uncle Wayne in a hospital room. From that point, his life improves significantly.

It’s not something he would ever say publicly, but Eddie was so glad his father had broken both his leg and arm when he had pushed him down the stairs. The fact that he had done so while totally drunk in the middle of the day, in full view of three neighbors and the very same cops who were coming to arrest him may have been part of the reason he was so happy about it.

It had hurt. It still did, even with the meds he was under. His body felt like a giant bruise, and he had nearly fainted when he had seen his arm bent in a really, really abnormal way. Said arm was now in a cast, along with his leg, and it sucked. At least his right side had taken the brunt of the fall, and he was still able to write and eat almost normally.

He didn’t know where he was going to end up now that his dad had been locked up, but after two days spent at the hospital, a social worker showed up with a vaguely familiar man she introduced to him as Wayne Munson. His uncle. Or “that fucking fairy,” according to his father.

Eddie was hurt, high on painkillers, and in presence of an authentic degenerate. The kind of person who was different from everyone Eddie had ever met and was proud of it, enough to get in trouble with the pigs for being involved in a riot. That was insane.

 As soon as the social worker left them alone, Eddie started to vomit all his problem for Wayne to hear. The man listened in silence, barely nodding a few times to encourage him to talk. When Eddie finally ran out of secrets to tell, Wayne only said one thing.

“So, you’re a boy, right?”

And that was the end of it.

A couple of days later he found himself in small-town Hawkins, while his father was probably in the clink for good, this time. He was now the proud owner of the only bedroom in his uncle’s trailer, because according to Wayne, teenage boys needed their own space.

Three days after his arrival, Wayne sat him on a chair and carefully buzzed his hair. Eddie watched each lock fall to the ground, feeling strangely bereft. Afterwards, he kept running his hand against his bare scalp, fighting against the burn in his eyes.

Wayne put a hand on his shoulder, firm but kind. “It’s safer like that, son. You’ll be able to regrow it soon enough.”

He left the next day, having arranged for a woman living two trailers from them to watch over Eddie for the weekend.

“Don’t tell anyone you were not born a boy, you hear me?” Wayne told him just before the neighbor arrived. “I can help you be yourself, but you have to be careful if we want it to work.”

“Never?”

“As long as you’re still a kid. Keep it under wraps at least until you can vote.”

The neighbor was blind as a bat, made the best casserole in the state, and called him Edward in such a nice tone that by the time Wayne came back, he had decided that he liked that very, very much.

He was still going to go by Eddie, though.

It turned out Wayne had a lot of friends, and all of them were the wrong sort. Not the kind that ended up in jail for grand theft auto and assault, like his dad, but the kind dear ol’ Al Munson would have called “a bunch of degenerates that should be hanged.”

Wayne came back with a stack of falsified papers, a box, zines, and a whole spiel for him.

By the end of the week, he had been enrolled in the local middle school for the next year as “Edward Munson” and was starting to wince less and less each time his uncle stuck a syringe in his thigh. 

Eddie spent the last of the spring and most of the summer holed up in the trailer, writing page after page in a notebook and devouring each book Wayne brought him from the local library. By the time school started again, his arm and leg were healed, the duvet on his upper lip had slightly darkened, and his voice was cracking. 

Ten years after his first trip to the ER, Eddie had been left in the tender care of nurses way more times than most people, and he had almost always gotten along with them.

That one, though, was his favorite.

“Hiya, nurse Harrington. Nice scrubs.”

Steve dropped his key in a bowl and turned around to face his boyfriend. 

“Hi, babe.”

Eddie stretched his neck, and Steve gave him a quick kiss when he passed by the couch in the way to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later he was back, wearing his pajamas, his hair damp and in disarray. 

“Rough day?”

Steve slumped on the couch and curled up against Eddie. “Could have been easier,” he mumbled.

“I made lasagna.” 

His head shot up.

“You did?”

“Yep. Followed your recipe to the letter. It’s in the oven.”

He got a kiss for his trouble. Then another. 

By the time his watch biped, they had been making out for nearly ten minutes.

Steve pushed his boyfriend back a bit. 

“Is that for you shot or for the lasagna?”

“For my shot.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Eddie smiled dopily and leaned back on the couch. Soon Steve was back with a syringe and a wipe.

“Take your pants off, will you?”

“My, my, nurse Harrington, you’re taking some liberties.” He shuffled out of his jeans, throwing them to the other side of the room. “Aaaall ready for you, my good sir.”

Steve laughed and sat down beside his boyfriend. Eddie immediately put his legs on his lap and lied back.

“Stick me with the boy juice, sweetheart.”

The only answer he got was a kiss on his thigh. Steve cleaned up a square of skin with the cotton wipe and emptied the syringe.

“Ouch,” Eddie said in his most indifferent tone.

“Awww, did that hurt, baby?”

Eddie had been jabbing a needle in his thigh daily for the last ten years and was thinking about getting a new tattoo. He could barely feel needles anymore, and his pain threshold was very high anyway. But being the center of his very caring boyfriend’s attention was always nice.

He batted his eyelashes. 

“Yes, terribly.” Eddie sat back and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “The pain is immeasurable, my liege. I need your lovely kisses to make it all better.”

Steve put down the needle with a laugh and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “And now?”

“Still hurting…”

They were still laughing between kisses when Steve pushed Eddie down to better make out with him on the couch.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Hey, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, that’s just the alarm for the lasagna.”

“What???”

“It can stay in the oven for a bit longer, don't worry. No! Come back here!”

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 23

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Chapter 23 

Y/n wakes up in Jeongin’s bed alone. She groans as she stretches and frowns when she feels how cold the rest of the bed is. She looks around the room seeing if there's any sign of either the alpha or of Felix who had joined them the night before but there's nothing. 

She sits up, her body aching a bit and suddenly coughs into her arm causing her throat to hurt. She realizes how stuffed up she feels as it's a bit hard to breathe out of her nose and her ears feel plugged. She gives herself a few moments hating that she’s gotten sick before turning to the nightstand to grab her phone Felix had plugged in for her the night before in one of Jeongin’s chargers.

Jeonginie Morning Jagiya

Sorry you had to wake up alone. Felix and I left to go to the soup kitchen early this morning and didn’t want to wake you

The omega looks at the time seeing it’s already almost noon before sighing and opening their location sharing app to see if the others were out or at work. She sees that Chan is the only one still at home. She sees that Felix and Jeongin are together at what she assumes is the soup kitchen in town. Not far from them, Hyunjin, Jisung and Seungmin are together at the community center. Then in Seoul, Minho is at his dance studio and Changbin is at the office. 

Y/n slides out of bed before leaving Jeongin’s room in only his shirt and tries to quietly walk past Chan’s room as his door is open and she sees him working at his desk. She makes it just past his room when she hears his desk chair creak. 

“Y/n?” 

She quietly curses herself for being heard before walking back to the door to see him turned in his chair towards her. 

“Morning Channie.” She gives him a smile trying hard not to sound sick but her stuffy nose isn’t helping.

“Morning? Baby, it’s already noon. Are you just now getting up?” He tilts his head at her knowing something is wrong. “Are you feeling okay? You sound a bit sick.”

“I’m okay.” 

“Don’t lie to me, baby girl.” He stands up and moves towards her placing a hand on her cheek and frowns a little before moving it to place the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re a bit warm. I think you have a fever.”

“I’m okay.” She pulls her head away from his hand. “It’s just a small cold.”

The alpha sighs looking at her with a mix of worry and sadness. “If you’re sick you’re sick, Y/n. Don’t downplay it.”

“I’m just stuffed up and my throat is a little sore. It’s nothing, probably just allergies and sleeping with my mouth open.” She looks up at him before changing the subject. “Everyone else is gone?” 

“Yeah, Changbin and Minho went to work. Everyone else is volunteering in town.” He continues to watch her closely. “We didn’t want you to be here alone so I offered to work from home today.” 

“I would have been fine alone, you didn’t have to stay.” She furrows her brows. “Or I could have gone with some of the others. I’d like to start volunteering around the town too.”

“You’ll get to start volunteering with them soon.” He pushes some hair behind her ear. “We were originally wanting you to start doing so this week but after… Jeju, we've decided to wait a bit. Get the restraining order done and make sure everything gets under control again.”

“Chan.” Y/n whines. 

“Yours and Ji’s therapy sessions have also been moved up to later this week.” He gives her a look as if to say not to push him. “You guys need to talk to them about what happened. You guys act like you are alright, and I’m not saying you aren’t but you guys need to talk about it.”

She sighs and nods her head in understanding.

“When we go to your therapy appointments we’re gonna stop by and have the judge sign the restraining order and get copies and make sure your grandparents get served the papers.”

“Then we can go about life as normal?” The omega looks up at him with hopeful eyes. 

“Yes.” He smiles. “Then we can go about life as normal. You can volunteer around town with the others and a bunch of other stuff.”

She nods again and he wraps his arm around her waist pulling her to him. “We’re just wanting to protect you, okay?”

“I know.” She whispers before leaning up and kisses his lips.

He smirks against her lips and kisses back, biting her bottom lip a little before his hand moves up to her cheek feeling how warm she is again remembering her fever and pulls away. 

“You should really go get some rest, baby girl. Go lay down in the games room or the living room, watch tv or something. I’ll get you some medicine.”

“Okay.” She moves away from him, watching as he goes downstairs to get the medicine before following after but heads to the game room instead. She grabs one of the fluffy blankets and curls up on the couch. 

Chan walks into the room seeing her searching through the streaming services to choose something to watch as he places a glass of water and 2 pills on the coffee table.

“Take those. I’ll be working in my room if you need anything.” He kisses her head before leaving again. 

Y/n looks at the pills and just feels uneasy about it. Ever since stopping the injections she’s been not fond of medication, hasn’t even been keeping up with her anxiety meds like she should be. She knows the pills Chan placed on the table is probably just cold medicine but she still doesn't want to take it. 

She ends up just sipping on the water as she tries watching a few different shows and movies but nothing really keeps her attention for long. Eventually she turns the tv off and gets up to go back upstairs. She is extra careful as to not catch the alpha’s attention at the other end of the hallway, not wanting to disturb him or make him worry that she needs something, as she walks to hers and Felix’s bathroom.

She hopes that maybe a hot bath can help open up her sinuses as she turns on the faucets. She adds some salts and bubbles when her phone goes off. 

Felix & Y/n

Lix Channie texted us that you're not feeling good. Jeongin and I will pick you up some soup from the local bakery on our way home

Y/nnie You don’t have to do that baby. It’s just a small cold, nothing to worry about 

Lix Nonsense. Let us take care of you sunshine. You’re sick, we’re getting you soup

Minho & Y/n

Min Kitten, stop being difficult. Don’t make me have Changbin hold you down when we get home while I spoon feed you soup

Felix & Y/n

Y/nnie Really? You told on me to Minho?

Lix You’re trying to act like you aren’t sick. Have to get the alpha’s involved.

The omega rolls her eyes before turning her phone off knowing she won’t win with any of her mates. She strips off Jeongin’s shirt and steps into the water. It’s times like this she’s glad her and Felix have the second largest bathtub next to the one downstairs in the large bathroom. She understands why as they are the two omega’s in the house and she’s been told that occasionally Jisung would use it too if he kept it clean. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Chan just finished up some paperwork when he heard the front door open and seven loud voices. He stretches before getting up and goes out to the hallway just as Felix and Jeongin walk up the last steps. 

“Hey pups. How was the soup kitchen?” The alpha pulls Felix to him and kisses his lips before hugging the youngest.

“Good, but the kitchen was so freaking hot.” Jeongin complains as he pulls his shirt away from his body a bit. “We are in desperate need of showers.”

“We got Y/n some soup from our favorite bakery. Minho is putting it in a bowl for her.” Felix explains.

“Alright, I’ll go say hi to everyone else. You two go shower.” Chan hits the omega’s butt as he walks past them and goes downstairs where everyone else is. “Hey, how was everyone's day?”

Jisung goes and hugs him the moment he steps off the bottom step making the older male laugh. “You have to see the painting Jinnie did while teaching his class today.”

“Yeah? Did he paint another masterpiece?” 

“It was just something from Ji’s favorite park on Jeju.” The beta waves his hand. “I plan to paint a bigger mural of it on Y/n’s wall for her like she asked. This was just for practice.”

“Speaking of Y/n, where is she?” Minho finally speaks as he places a bowl on the table. “I’ve got her soup.”

“I left her in the game room to watch tv after I gave her medicine.”

“I’ll go get her.” Seungmin moves to the game room only to find it empty and the cold medicine Chan said he gave the omega still on the coffee table. “Umm, she’s not in here.” He yells as he grabs the medicine and walks back to the kitchen. “And she never actually took her medicine.” 

Everyone frowns just as frantic footsteps come running down the stairs, Jeongin sliding into the kitchen. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” The three other alphas move to the youngest. 

“Felix and Y/n’s bathroom is locked.” Jeongin looks panicked. “Lix is freaking out, has tried calling out to Y/n but she’s not responding. He even tried calling her phone but it’s going straight to voicemail.”

The three older males don’t even let Jeongin finish before they are running up the stairs to find Felix still pounding on the bathroom door.

“Sunshine, please, answer me, open the door.”

Minho grabs Felix to move him away from the door and pushes his face into his neck so his scent can calm him down. “It’s okay, we’ll get her.”

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Changbin calls as he bangs on the door.

There’s still no answer which causes everyone to worry. 

“Baby girl, we need you to answer us.”

They all wait again but still nothing, making Felix whimper.

“Are we sure she’s in there?” Seungmin speaks up as everyone else had followed.

“Why else would the door be locked?” Jisung moves to Minho and Felix, wrapping his arms around the younger.

“Bin?” Chan turns to the other alpha who nods as they both take a few steps back.

At the same time they both kick the door breaking the lock, the door splintering a bit but they don't care. Inside they find Y/n asleep in the bathtub. 

Changbin grabs her out of the bath. “Y/n, wake up, baby.”

She startles awake when she feels herself get lifted out of the bath and looks around confused and a bit dazed as Chan wraps a towel around her while still in Changbins arms. “W-what?”

“Hey pretty girl.” Changbin sighs as he sits down on the floor with her in his arms, Chan trying to help dry her off, everyone else crowded in the doorway watching. 

“Your fever has gotten worse.” Chan feels her cheek and forehead after just laying the towel over her. “What happened?”

“I was just wanting to take a bath. I guess I fell asleep.” She looks at everyones concerned faces feeling bad for worrying them once again. 

“We were pounding on the door.” Felix says still wrapped in Minho’s and Jisung’s arms. “You really didn’t hear us?”

“No.” She whispers with a small shake of her head.

“New rule.” Minho speaks up looking at everyone, not just the youngest omega. “No one is allowed to lock doors. If we have to replace all the locks with normal door knobs we will.”

“I agree with that idea.” Chan nods and so does everyone else. 

“Does that mean the front and back doors too?” Hyunjin says, causing a few of them to glare at him but Felix and Jisung laugh. “What? Was just trying to lighten the mood. And it worked.”

The beta ruffles Felix and Jisung’s hair and Seungmin shakes his head coming forward as he still has the cold medicine and Y/n’s water. “You need to take these.”

Chan takes them from the younger male and holds them while looking at their girl with both concern and confusion. “Why didn’t you take these earlier?”

“I-I just don’t want to be taking medications.”

“It’s just cold medicine baby.” Changbin rubs her cheek not liking how warm she feels. “It’s nothing like those injections, I promise.” 

“And you’ve been taking those anxiety pills.” Jisung moves away from the two he has been hugging for a bit now to kneel next to her. “How are these any different?” 

“I haven’t been taking them.” She whispers.

“You still aren’t taking your anxiety pills?” Minho grumbles.

“You knew she wasn’t taking her meds?” Jeongin looks at the older alpha shocked and a bit angry. 

“That doesn’t matter right now.” Chan interrupts still looking at Y/n. “You need to take the cold medicine to try and get your fever down and hopefully help you feel better.”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist is closed for a bit as I am unable to tag anymore right now

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[gremlin-girly]

High Life

Part of the Green Collection

Main Masterlist | Ransom Masterlist

Fwb!Ransom Drysdale x f!reader

Banner by me in canva, pics found on Canva and Pinterest (credit to OG posters!) | Dividers by @/kodaswrld headers by @/cafekitsune

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ Read at your own risk.

Tags/warnings: Cannabis Consumption, oral (f recieving, p-in-v, creampie, oral (f recieving) mentioned, cowgirl, accidental confessions, vaginal fingering, and this one has a smidge of angst, but! Fluff also, friends to lovers

Summary: Another meet up with Ransom starts off normal and almost finishes as such until he says something you can't unhear.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: I know Bob won on the poll but unfortunately I didn't like some sections I'd written which caused a huge rewrite. So I'm sorry about that!

A joint. A kiss. A Saturday morning well spent on your back, arching into Ransom's mouth as he ate you out like he had something to prove.

After your second orgasm, you rolled him onto his back, to lavish his body with attention before riding him, rolling your hips every so often so you could rub your clit against the thatch of hair and muscle at the base of his cock.

It felt good. It always did. Disconnected from the world and, if you watched the light on the cieling instead of looking at his face, you could be disconnected from Ransom too. You loved him - you could admit it - but you loved fucking him just a teensy bit more. It wasn't as if he felt anything towards you. Although, you should probably tone down on seeing him so much. Almost every weekend and a couple of week days sprinkled in between was a lot, even for you.

Ransom groans and his hands find your hips holding you down onto him. You pay him no mind, your eyes are preoccupied with matching patterns in the light.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good." Ransom's hips roll into yours, sending his cock deeper. You gasp and hiccup on your next breath.

"Ran-" Your eyes flutter and more patterns appear behind your eyelids. You were close to orgasm - just one more little push over that edge and you'd be there.

"'M gonna cum baby - you gonna cum over my cock?"

You hum in agreement steeling your focus. Focus. It feels amazing. Even if you cared a little bit more than he did. But that's always how it was with Ransom. If you thought about it hard enough your friendship was always transactional - somehow. But then one bad break up led to you finally taking him up on the offer of sharing a joint, which led to a kiss, which led to wandering hands, which led to countless sleepless weekends tangled in his sheets.

Which led to you loving him in a way you shouldn't.

Focus.

Pressure builds - soft, hot, hard and wet mingled in a delicious haze as Ransom fucks up into you, lost to his own pleasure as you try to get lost in yours.

"Fuck - fuck," his hips snap hard. He was about to cum. "God I-I love you."

"What?" Your eyes flare open, ripped away from your orgasm with shock, and you look down at Ransom who looks entirely blissed out, shuddering a groan. Did he just say what you think he said?

Your orgasm is less focused, there's no tidal wave, not so much mess. If anything it's a lot more muted than usual because your mind is elsewhere, swimming amongst the dreamy haze of your high.

Ransom pants beneath you and you remain seated; very rarely is there emotional intimacy after sex. Sometimes you'd lie together, chit chat for a bit, maybe even go for another round or two. Weekends like this often meant you would talk for longer, curled together, and pretend that your unspoken agreement meant nothing to either of you but eventually you'd be dismissed and go about your week like nothing more than friendly banter was exchanged between you. You hadn't minded at first; Ransom's assholish demeanour allowed for that. You'd been his friend long enough to know that his dismissal, his refusal to look you in the eyes after you'd helped empty his balls was a him thing and quite frankly a him thing you didn't want to be part of.

You loved him - you had liked him before you had started getting high together and the more the lines blurred with sex, the more you became - for lack of a better word - attached. You knew it would happen, human connection and all that, but you were surprised at how selfish you were in this situationship. Any chance to be near or with Ransom, no matter how small, you took it. Even if it meant sacrificing a little piece of your heart everytime.

However, that was before you knew he loved you.

Casting your eyes downwards to the man beneath you, you consider your options. This was Ransom; the chances of him admitting to what he said are slim to none, and even if he did there's a high possibility that he will brush it off and say it was "in the moment". You know in your heart that what you have to do is leave and stop this unnamed relationship.

Tears well and you force a smile as Ransom peeks up at you with a cocky smirk. He won't know the difference between tears of pleasure or sadness.

"You were incredible as always." He purrs, his hand reaching for your face.

He frowns when you pull away out of reach and you quickly hold onto his hand instead, sandwiching his warm palm between yours. You can feel his cock still softening inside you, his cum slowly dribbling out to coat your thighs and your pussy pulses involuntarily knowing it'll be the last time you feel it.

"You too." You manage out, more breathily than you intend before leaning down to kiss Ransom's forehead. "But I should get going."

"Huh? Why?" Ransom's frown deepens to an almost-glare. "We picked today because we had nothing on and we could smoke and fuck eachother senseless like we always do."

"Something's come up." You try weakly but Ransom sees through your poor attempt.

"Come up? I didn't notice you check your phone inbetween getting your pussy eaten and getting fucked." Ransom snaps. "What's wrong?"

"I - erm - you..." you cringe at your own words, you want to run away and escape but Ransom is holding you captive in his stern gaze. "I just remembered something I've got to do and um-"

You smack your lips and shrug, trying to look apologetic instead of upset. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" He snaps and then grunts as he folds his arms across his chest, looking irritably over at you. "Whatever. You know where the door is."

You wilt under his gaze and hurriedly dress and grab your overnight bag. You can feel him watching you as you do. You've known Ransom long enough to know he's seething and you can sort of understand why; you ruined his weekend plans of getting high and fucking like rabbits. However, you can't pretend you didn’t hear him say those three little words and pretend like he had one) not said them or two) didn't think they were a big deal. You were fine with your arrangement being one sided but you couldn't continue knowing that you both felt the same and that Ransom would still try to avoid labels and deeper human connection past fucking. That was too painful.

As you shifted your bag onto your shoulder and cast a glance backwards at Ransom, your selfishness took over. You took a step closer to the bed, where he still sat bare-chested with his arms folded and a scowl, and tried for a smile.

"Do you really have to leave?" Ransom pressed again as you closed the space between you.

"Yes," you say, throat dry. Ransom tilts his head at you, as if he'd figure out what's going through your head if you looked at you from a new angle.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asks quietly, eyes a little softer. "Didn't say anything bad?"

Is 'I love you' bad?

"Err, no?" You shake your head gently. "Um, not really?"

"So I did do something." Ransom sighs, running his hands over his face with a groan. "Jesus Christ, why didn't you just say so?"

"You didn't hurt me!" You protest feeling a little guilty.

Ransom's blue eyes peek at you over his fingertips. "Then what? Did I say something?"

"Uhh..." your brain blanks out and Ransom stares you down. Anxiety builds as you fight to think of how to get him off your back. "Do you remember what you said?"

"No." He says pointedly. "I was busy thinking about how good your pussy felt on my cock while I came."

Blushing at his crass words you sigh and blink away tears, forcing yourself to look away from him. Of course he doesn't remember.

"What did I say?" He demands again.

"You said-" You stall and then concede; what was the point in lying? "You said you loved me."

Ransom's frown vanishes. "I... oh."

"Yeah."

"That's why you're leaving?"

"I- why wouldn't I?"

"Well, it doesn’t mean anything!" He says, looking at little panicked, cheeks blazing red as he sits up and half moves towards you.

"It means everything, Ran." You argue back, tears welling. "I can't keep fucking you knowing that you love me."

"Why?"

You stare at him blankly and Ransom swallows, rubbing his large palms against the sheets. "You love me, right?"

"But that's not-"

"If you love me, why are you leaving?" Ransom turns the question onto you and you frown at him.

"Don't be an ass, Ransom." You snap and then he starts to smirk.

"I think if you love me too," he begins teasingly. "You should strip and come back to bed."

"That's what you always want me to do." You huff and get to your feet but there's a tug on your left hand and you look down to see Ransom's face looking sheepish.

"Sorry. Just don't go. Let's talk some more." He gives you a pleading look. "Please?"

You drop your bag from your shoulder but don't let it go just yet, staring at Ransom to try and see if he's lying or not. When you can't come to a consensus, you sigh.

"Just tell me one thing," you say firmly. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes." Ransom answers without hesitation. "I didn't think you - I wanted to ask you - Look," he takes a breath. "If I'm honest I wanted to have the weekend with you before saying anything first but it just sort of... came out."

Then he shrugs. "I'm not sorry it happened but I'm sorry that's how I said it."

"Okay." You breathe, smiling as you finally release your bag straps and remove your shirt. Ransom's eyes shamelessly fall on your tits and he sits up onto his knees, letting the sheets fall away from his body as he watches you undress.

You re-take your space next to him, reaching for his face to plant a long, lingering kiss on his lips. His hands find your face and hold you in place as he kisses back. Worry fades as Ransom angles you backwards towards the comfort of the pillows, keeping you close so he can keep kissing you. Warm fingerpads trace up your thigh and you smile against his lips.

"I love you." You murmur, looking up into his soft blue eyes.

"I love you too." Ransom replies, dipping his fingers between your thighs to rub at your clit. Your gasp his smothered by his mouth on yours. "How's about I show you just how much?"

END

Taglist - add yourself here

Head to @grems-library for the reblogs of my fics

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[ejzah]

Would you consider starting a multi-chapter au for densi post s9 where they don’t make up, deeks leaves ncis, and they rekindle a few years later? I love second chance romance trope and the angst😊

A/N: Hi anon! I believe I’ve written one other story where Kensi and Deeks are briefly broken up. I do find it difficult to think of Densi being split up for any significant amount of time. As requested, this is angsty.

***

Just Know My Heart is Breaking

“Deeks, I’m back. I hope you didn’t make anything, cause I brought takeout,” Kensi calls out as she hangs her bag up by the door and kicks her shoes to the side. When he doesn’t answer back, she shouts his name again. “Deeks!”

His truck was in the driveway, but he’d also mentioned walking down to the beach so she isn’t surprised if Deeks is still out there. Since Mexico, he’s been spending a lot of time at the beach and to himself.

Kensi doesn’t judge him for it. Once she was able to get around on her own post coma, she’d relished in the freedom and frequently chose solo activities. It doesn’t make her miss him any less when he’s not around. Especially since she doesn’t get to see him at work. She’ll be glad when he passes his final physical and psych evals.

Then they’ll finally be back to normal. Well, as normal as they ever get.

She stops in the kitchen to drop off the Chinese food, then continues on her search, eventually finding Deeks sitting on the patio. His head is bent forward, whatever he’s looking at completely capturing his attention.

Coming up behind him, Kensi loosely wraps her arms around his shoulders, kissing his temple. He twists to look up at her.

“Hey, you’re back early,” he says, offering a distracted smile.

“The CIA ended up taking over our case. They did not want to share,” she explains, walking around to join him on the loveseat.

“What are you working on?” She nods to the open laptop balanced on his knees.

“Just some LAPD stuff.” He closes the lid, sets it to the side, his arm sliding around her.

“Oh. I thought you finished all of that last week.”

“Yeah, I uh, I had a few more forms Bates needed,” he responds, ruffling his hair. There’s a tension radiating throughout his body and even though he’s sitting right next to her, he’s closed off.

“What’s going on? Are you nervous about going back tomorrow? Believe, everyone misses you. Even though Sam will probably pretend it’s be fine.” She rubs his back, which results in his spine going completely rigid. “We need our liaison back.”

“Yeah, about that.” He untangles himself from her, scooting over so there’s a half foot between them. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Ok, that doesn’t sound good,” she jokes. Deeks’ grim expression doesn’t change and her stomach clenches uncomfortably. He should be reassuring her right now, laughing at her lack of creativity, but he’s not.

He cups her hands between his. “Kensi, we need to talk about the engagement.”

“As in making invitations and setting a date? Because we already talked about this when you were in the hospital.”

“No.” He exhales shakily and her heart starts to pound in response.

He can’t be breaking up with her.

“Kensi, I love you…” he shakes his head and gestures aimlessly. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t keep being with you and loving you and working in the same place, knowing that any given day, it could all be gone,” he says, his voice dipping lower on the last few words. Somehow knowing this is hurting him too doesn’t make it any better.

“I know it’s been difficult the last few months, but we can make this work,” she insists, hearing how desperate she sounds. In this moment, she’s ready to do just about anything to convince him.

“It’s not just the last few months, though what happened in Mexico did put things into perspective for me. I want a family and a future, and I just can’t see that working with what we do.”

This isn’t you, she wants to say. Marty Deeks doesn’t give up. He didn’t fight so hard for her after her coma and follow her into an unsanctioned, dangerous mission just for them to end this way.

Instead, she promises, “I want those things too, Deeks. I want you. And I can change. I can compromise.” She would do just about anything, because she knows what it’s like to almost lose him for good.

“We both know you’re not ready to leave NCIS and I said I wouldn’t force you to,” he answers bluntly. Then more gently. “Could you honestly say you’d be happy if you left now? Knowing that it wasn’t completely your choice.”

“I’d do it for you.” She means it.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Deeks tells her.

“So I don’t get a say in any of this?” She can’t get out more than a whisper. This is so much worse than the last time. Then she could draw on her anger, use it to fuel her past the shock and pain. “You’re just going to leave.”

He swallows visibly, but doesn’t let her comment deter him. “I’ll be out by the end of week. I’m going to email the landlord about taking my name off the lease.”

“Deeks—”

“I’m not going to ask any rent or utilities. So you should be good for the rest of the year,” he continues on relentlessly.

“Deeks, I don’t care about the money,” she interrupts with a combination of horror and shock. Does he really think she’s that mercenary? “You just told me you’re leaving me. This house and rent is the last thing on my mind.”

“That’s not what I meant, Kens.”

She flinches as the soft use of her nickname, and he looks away, eyes focusing nowhere in particular, pursing his lips for a few seconds. When he looks at her again, his eyes are glassy and sadder than the night they fought in the parking garage.

“Of course I know you don’t care. I just meant I’m not going make this any harder on you by forcing you to move, or—or pick up all the bills without warning,” he explains.

Because only Marty Deeks would be so considerate while breaking her heart.

“What about work?” she asks dully. Her voice sounds distant and almost as if it’s coming from someone else.

“I’ll resign from the liaison position.” At the soft, pained noise Kensi lets escape he adds, almost pleading with her, “It would be too hard to keep working together when we—it would be too hard.”

“You weren’t happy at LAPD. And after the IA case…” Kensi reminds him.

“I know. It would just be until I figure something else out,” he says with a shrug.

There’s something especially painful about the thought of him leaving law enforcement completely. If he wants a safe future, he’s certainly not going to join a different agency.

In a final desperate effort, she takes his hand and squeezes it in her shaking one’s.

“Please, stay a little longer. Just a few weeks so we can try and figure it out. That’s all I’m asking. Please,” she begs. A few tears slip down her cheeks.

Deeks reaches up to wipe them away, making a comforting sound. For a moment, she thinks he might give in. She might have gotten through to him and won a little more time with him. He hugs her, his arms tight and comforting. Kensi holds him just as tight, curling her fingers in the back of his shirt, as though she can keep him there by sheer will.

After a minute, he presses his lips her cheek, carefully easing out of her embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs hoarsely. He’s crying too, but it doesn’t stop him from walking away.

“Deeks, wait!” Kensi runs after him, catches him before he gets to the patio door and grasps his cheeks, kissing him desperately. She pours every ounce of love, regret, and heartbreak into it, memorizing the feel of his lips against hers.

When she pulls away, Deeks looks absolutely wrecked. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he backs away, his eyes pleading with her not to follow.

In just a few seconds, he’s gone. Kensi’s legs shake and she slowly crumples to the rough ground, her shoulders heaving with sobs.

***

A/N: I realize Deeks springing a break up on Kensi may seem a little OOC, but in this scenario they haven’t necessarily talked through all their issues and desires/needs for the future. So, Kensi assumes they’re ok and Deeks is trying to make it work, but they still have the same conflict as in 9x23 and 24.

Thanks for the prompt!

[murdleandmarot]

Hello I would love to hear everything you have about bluebelle

hi hello, sorry it took so long to get to this, it’s probably too late at this point lol, motivation just kind of dripped away in the last couple of weeks

I’m not really sure what to say except for what I’ve already said in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/murdleandmarot/751605283466379264/can-you-info-dump-about-bluebelle-im-very

Rn when I think about Bluebelle the most is when I’m trying to think of ways to introduce her to the rest of the jellicles or to keep her on the brinks. I’ll probably never actually write anything, but I like to have the story my head concretely.

I’ll prolly do more art of her or Bluebeard in the future but whether or not I’ll post it is anyone’s guess. Bluebeard is a character that I basically stole from 17th-18th century storytellers but I still adore his design so fucking much. Sorry guys I cat-ified your fairy tale villain.

I guess I’ve sort of slid to the funny side of oc headcanons lately because in my head I keep referring to Bluebelle Vicci and Plato as Bluebelle, her girlfriend, and her girlfriend’s boyfriend.

I just kind of thought it was funny i have no idea what im doing 😭😭

I’ve had a couple of funny little comic ideas that I’ve been scribbling out in the past couple of days but they’re giving me so much grief that I honestly don’t know what to do lol. One’s with @/mysticalcats’s foxglove and one is with @/toki-toro’s chaumet but I have no idea if I’ll finish or post them butttttt I’m not sure what else I’m doing at this point.

This probably wasn’t really the answer you were looking for but I felt rly rly bad about not responding sooooo

[missdrummond]

Guys! I've been thinking and I think we're all wrong. Everyone who was saying Connie and Eugene should have gotten together are/were absolutely right! They truly have the most romantic chemistry of any couple of characters on the show. Like I know they fight but they have all these little moments that show how much they love each other. Like when Connie tried to give up her own money to cover up for Eugene being a petty thief, or when Eugene stopped Connie from fist fighting a Roman soldier. Even a random armed gunman could see they were perfect for each other.

of course, all these moments happened before Katriana showed up. >:[

Let Katrina marry Brandon! Who needs Mitch to exist anyway? We all agreed the Richard storyline would have been cooler.

Imagine if For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll was actually Connie and Eugene getting married instead of Jack and Jonne like who needs to see their wedding. Not me!

Then they could have had kids in the gap between albums 50 and 51. That time skip could have been anything they could have used the concept for Emily Jones as the blueprint for their child. Like am I wrong? Emily could totally have been their child. and like imagine Jules as an aunt, or no she probably wouldn't exist either. But who likes her anyway? certainly not me! the show is better off without her.

Also since Connie is married all her relationship needs are clearly filled so we can just keep Penny as a villain and ditch the whole roommate thing. As for Buck? Just replace Katrina with Connie and it's still makes perfect sense.

[pidgeonlaguz]

howdy!! it's been a minute but i'm still around. fair warning-- i have been lurking the whole time and have about. 100+ posts drafted 😵‍ you'll be seeing these shortly, i'll try my best to space them out as i get around to tagging them

[you-will-return]

---

[sodacowboy]

I really don’t know what the fuck is going on with me

[seddair]

,

[orcboxer]

Sure there's zombies killing and eating people on the street but those people are not dying from the virus they're dying from comorbidities. For instance, that guy we saw getting eaten on the way into work today clearly died from blood loss, not infection, plus he already had a heart condition. People with preexisting conditions are just going to have to take care of themselves. Say it with me, "They're all already dead to me." See, that feels a lot better now doesn't it?

Good because you still have to go to work. No we're not paying you extra. Yes we're doubling grocery prices. No you don't qualify for disability. Or healthcare. Or a home.

Look, if you get bitten, you can stay home for one day, I guess 😒, but then you need to come in early. We're really short staffed at the moment, despite our company's profits being higher than ever. In fact we may be laying some of you off next month. You don't mind working off the clock right?

Also you look silly with that protective gear. We're gonna harass you for it, not like institutionally but just socially. Who cares if a zombie attacks you? Who cares if we invite them into the building? You don't need to defend yourself, you're just overreacting. If you get bitten just tell everyone the festering bite mark is from a different animal, that's what we all do.

And hey, don't worry so much. It's endemic, which means we don't have to keep track of how many people are dying from it anymore. Just look at those numbers! It's only killed 2,000 people in America this week! That's basically nobody! We're back to normal!

If everything starts tasting like rotting meat for the rest of your life, it's probably something else. If you experience brain fog or you forget things constantly or you're tired all the time after even minor physical activity, it's just because you're lazy. Yes every other virus you ever get will also be increasingly worse but that's just a coincidence. Those viruses just happen to be exponentially worse now.

Plus, those few weeks during the lockdown were terrible for my mental health. I just can't keep living like that, so we have to go back to normal life, which now involves people biting each other and twitching uncontrollably and rotting visibly.

You can't expect the world to wait for you. "Already dead to me," remember?

[esote-rika]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: Teasing your virgin boyfriend was all fun and games, until he’s too worked up to function. When the layers of clothing fall off, you’re in for a delightfully large surprise.

Content: 3.2k words, virgin!Spencer, kinda sub undertones, he’s hung af and really fucking whiny, fingering, hand jobs, raw p in v but reader is on the pill, multiple orgasms, Spencer cries because he needs it so bad, reader wears lip gloss, dacryphilia (lemme know if I missed anything)

a/n: Truly just 3.2k words of filth. I wrote this instead of the next chapter for my thesis and I have no regrets. Also, a lot of my italicized words got lost because formatting on the app truly is the bane of my existence, but I reached a personal milestone and wanted to celebrate! So yay, here's a fic as a thank you for supporting my blog and writings ❤️

Sometimes dating Spencer Reid meant throwing subtlety out the goddamn window; the man wouldn’t know subtext if it hit him square on his beautiful, perfectly sculpted face. All your subtle attempts to seduce him have all been entirely unsuccessful, and you're beginning to wonder if he even wants you that way. 

In your defense, you've been dating for over two months now and he still hasn't initiated anything beyond making out. It’s been making you antsy. Of course, his hesitation is nice. It comes from a place of respect after all, and there’s something endearing about his gentle touches, large hands ghosting over your body. You appreciate this easy, steady pace you've set for the relationship. 

But after a particularly busy week for both of you, you've been left aching and needy for something more. 

When you finally found a time that works for both of your schedules, you decided it would be time to make your move. Fuck waiting for him to initiate. You can do it yourself. You'd been subtle about it at first—a hand on his thigh, a few inches higher than where you'd normally place it, lips running over his jaw. 

The man had simply laughed nervously, and returned with a kiss to your forehead.

Briefly, you wondered if it truly is because he's not into you that way. However, that thought flits right out of your pretty head when you see the unmistakable tent slowly forming in his pants. 

So you’d upped your actions, nibbling at his earlobe in the middle of dessert, fingers trailing up his inner thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. Screw subtlety. (And hopefully, him too.) By the time you two sat in the back of the cab, he’s a squirming mess.

“S-stay the night?” he’d been so shy about it you debated teasing him a little more. Maybe if you weren’t so horny, you would have, but relief had simply flooded your veins. Finally. So you nod, teased him a little more in the back of the cab until he had to grab your wrists and hold them in place, because he swore he’d probably come in here just from one more brush of your palm. The lightest pressure and he’d be a goner, a pathetic mess, and you hadn’t even really done anything. 

There had been no build up once you got into his apartment. Simply an exchange of quick, sloppy kisses, Spencer pushing you deeper into his house until the couch hits the back of your knees and both of you came tumbling down. He’s already rutting his hips against your thigh, his erection hot even through his slacks. Clumsy fingers strip off fabric and shoes, leaving them strewn haphazardly on his living room floor.

You had pushed him away then, grinning enticingly as you went to straddle his lap. You ground your hips in circular motions against his still clothed crotch, gasping as the obvious bulge gives you even more traction to rub on. 

“No fair,” he whines, fingers leaving crescent shaped indents on your hips, “P-please stop teasing, you’ve been doing it all night.”

He’s so tightly wound it’s almost pathetic. He’s lucky you’ve some semblance of mercy left in your body, because you could probably come undone just from the friction that came by dry humping him. But you relent, sitting back on his thighs as you tug at his underpants. 

“All right baby, since you asked so nicely.”

Thus exposing what’s going to be the small issue of the night.

Rather, the large issue.

His cock springs free and for a moment you just stare at it. Red, veiny, pulsing and huge. Larger than anyone you’ve been with, larger than even the toys that hide in that one drawer in your bedroom closet.

“W-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You paled a little.”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, “You didn’t tell me you were hung.”

His eyebrows scrunch, so ridiculously adorable you have to bite your lip to stifle another giggle.

“Hung?”

“Yeah, like, your dick is huge.”

Red blooms across his cheeks, “It’s - it’s certainly above average—”

“You know what the average length is?”

“I-in North America, yes.”

“I didn’t know you swung that way, baby.”

He groans, moving to hide his face into the crook of your neck, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know, I’m kidding.” You manage to shift and catch his head before he has a chance to press it to your neck. Your lips land on his, and he’s pushing his tongue inside your mouth sloppily. When you pull away for air, you add, “You’re just bigger than what I’m used to.”

“Is that bad?”

Is it? One hand wraps around the base of his cock, stroking up delicately, testing out the girth and the weight of him. He shudders, muscles tensing. His fingers dig into your hips. With a grin, you reply, “On the contrary, I think it’s exciting.”

You position yourself over him then, letting the blunt tip run up and down your slick folds. The friction makes you both shiver. Every single ridge and vein of his cock catches on your sensitive flesh, and you can’t help but start moving your hips up and down, rubbing your folds over the length of him. 

“You’re - ah - so wet.” his tone is wretched with desire and awe.

“All for you baby.” You continue your ministrations, letting his length part your folds, the tip hitting your clit at certain angles. His cock is covered in your slick within moments and your poor boyfriend looks like he’s about to combust. You feel the twitch of his cock, the shift in the way he moves his hips—rocking up desperately against you—and you know he’s close. So you stop.

You’re rewarded by another whine.

“Please,” his grip is hurting you now, palms clutching handfuls of your ass. You don’t think he’s even aware of how tightly he’s doing it. “Please, I’m so—”

“Spence, do you really want to cum without even being inside me?” That shuts up his whining. “Mhm, didn’t think so.”

“Can I— please, just—”

“What?”

“Wanna touch you.”

Your lips tug into a smile. At your nod of assent, one of his hands let go of your ass to move to your pussy, the pads of his fingers quickly locating your clit.

“Fuck, Spence,” your head falls forward, forehead meeting his, “Faster, baby.”

He obeys, tilting his head forward to capture your lips. Your mouth opens to him, muffling your moans as you begin to move, shamelessly riding his hand. His finger finds your entrance, dipping shallowly, hesitantly, but you’re so wet that, with a quick thrust of your hips, the digit slips all the way in. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss to watch, the pupils of his eyes nearly eclipsing the ochre irises as your pussy swallows his finger greedily. Transfixed, he adds another finger and it’s your turn to squeeze and mark up his alabaster skin with crescent marks. 

“Yes,” you groan, gasp, writhe in his lap as his fingers curl and find the sweet spot inside you, “Oh god, Spencer, yes!”

He’s entranced as he pumps his fingers in and you, mouth hanging open as your pussy parts and accepts his fingers so prettily. To reciprocate, your hands—plural, yes both hands—wrap around his cock, starting a slow, lazy pace. That throws his rhythm off, fingers stilling inside you.

“Keep going,” you urge him, hands slowing to a stop as well, “Spencer.”

He whines, hips bucking up into your palms, but something in your voice seems to set him straight. Fingers thrust in and out of you again, long and elegant and stretching you for what’s about to come. Satisfied, you pump your hands over his cock again, twisting them every time you motion up, and squeezing as you go down. It doesn’t take long for him to fall apart, his cock twitching before cum shoots from the tip. Because you’re straddling his lap, it makes a mess and lands on both of you—his stomach, your chest, some even on your hair. 

“Oh god,” he’s whining again, embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I’m so—”

You silence him with a kiss, still stroking him, as your hips move over his hand. His brain manages to work, curling inside your fluttering walls. The movements are messy, uncoordinated as you chase your orgasm and he struggles to catch up. A whine leaves your lips, soft and needy. Something about it must trigger the neurons in his beautiful brain, make him remember you have the perfect bundle of nerves being neglected and he has more free fingers. 

With a slight shift, he presses his thumb to your clit. 

“Fuck, baby, yes!” you cry out breathlessly, head falling forward on his shoulder. 

“Good?” he asks, increasing pressure on that sensitive nub. Small, quick circles. You wonder when he became so dexterous.

You nod, thighs clenched and quivering as your climax nears, the pleasure in your stomach building and coiling into something white-hot and— “Oh, Spencer!”

His other arm wraps around your waist, crushing you to him as he helps you through your orgasm. In the steady comfort of his arms, the rocking of your hips slow to a stop. You feel his lips at your temple, not really kissing the spot, just resting there. Heavy breaths rifle strands of your hair. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, fingers slipping out of you with a pop, “Angel, that was amazing.”

You straighten up, grinning, “We're not done yet.”

“No?”

Eyes dart down suggestively, and his gaze follows to his own lap. Still completely erect, his cock lays flat against you, heavy and pulsating. “No, I think I need to take care of you a little more.”

“Y-you don't have—”

But you've already lifted yourself to your knees, fighting through the quake in your thighs, in order to position the tip of him at your slick entrance. His hands return to your thighs, nails clamping down on your skin.

“But I'm not— condom—”

How cute, he can barely speak. You grin, press a chaste kiss to the dimple on his cheek. “I'm clean. And on the pill.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

It's more than okay, actually. You're too shades shy of being desperate for his cock to split you open, but you're not sure if he'd survive hearing that sentence so you say, “Of course it is baby. Unless… you want me to stop?” If he catches the hint of insecurity in your voice, he doesn't show it. 

Instead, his head is shaking no, vigorously, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

You smile, and kiss it away, “Okay then. I'll go slow, okay?”

You'd meant it as an empty warning. Really, there's nothing more you want than to impale yourself down on him and ride him like there's no tomorrow. However, as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, as the blunt tip breaches your entrance and spreads your walls, you realize that going slow is probably more of a necessity. 

He's big. Almost uncomfortably so. 

One sharp exhale from your lips and he's suddenly looking at you in concern, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you gasp, although the furrow in your brows suggest otherwise. 

“You don't have to—"

“Hush, baby, I just need a moment.” You say, forcing yourself to relax and take more. The broadest part of his head pushes through, stretching you wider than you've ever been. Soft, keening sounds fill the air. It's hard to know which came from you, or from him.

You look up, and laugh when you realize Spencer's skin is dappled with large red splotches. He's staring at where the two of you are connected, his cock barely fitting inside you. With a deep breath, you roll your hips around, trying to get used to the feeling. He whines again, his torso falling back onto the cushion, “Oh my god,” he gasps, lower lips trembling, “Oh my god, please.”

“Need you to be patient for me, Spence.” you mutter, dropping down a little more. You place one hand on his thigh for balance, while the other wraps around the base of his cock, stroking him to give him some relief. The greedy bastard bucks up, involuntarily, and you hiss as another inch pushes into you before you're ready.

“Spence!”

“Sorry, I'm sorry! Just - oh god, oh god, please, oh did I hurt you?”

And then it happens. Something glimmers on his cheek as it catches the light. And then another. And again, this time on the other cheek. Your hand leaves his thigh to grasp his chin, tilt his head up.

Your boyfriend is crying. Splayed out on the couch, cushions embedded by the sharp joints of his elbows from where he's propped himself up. He's looking up at you with glimmering liquid gathered on the rims of his lashline. Dripping down his cheeks, only to be replaced by another bout. 

“Baby,” You sigh, pouting as you lean down. Soft lips catch his tears, leaving sticky residue on his cheekbones from the remains of your lip gloss, “It's okay.”

Another sob. Large teardrops crawl down his chiseled face.

Knowing that it’s your fault makes a feeling of power surge through you. “You’re so pretty like this, Spence.” 

“Angel, please—”

The sight of his tear streaked face does something to you, your walls relaxing and fluttering as you manage to accept another inch down. His reaction is instantaneous, nails sinking into your hips, head falling back. “No, no,” you say, hand coming to the back of his head, tilting his head forward again, “Look at me.”

Tear streaked and hazy eyed, he manages to keep his head steady in order to maintain eye contact. It’s a little sick, the way this turns you on, but it allows you to sheath his cock further in. 

You lift yourself up, until only the tip remains notched inside you, and his cock gleams with the evidence of your arousal. With a smile, you sink down again, walls fluttering as you take him deeper, until you have about three fourths of his length buried inside you and he’s little more than a puddle. 

A hiss escapes your lips, brows knitting from the stretch. It isn’t just that his length is impressive, it’s that he’s thick too, splitting your pussy open. But now he's buried more than halfway through, giving you enough room to lift yourself up, and sink down again.

You count that as a victory.

He groans, muscles tensing, and you know he's desperately trying not to buck up and meet your movements. With a small smile, you lean close, forehead resting on his. Large, honeyed eyes stare back up at you, still glassy with tears. You repeat the same motion of your hips, moaning as you feel every single ridge and vein of his cock straining inside your walls. 

“Feel good?” you murmur, swiping a stray teardrop with your thumb. 

“Mhmm,” he nods, breath hitching as your movements grow steady. The sting remains, but it's grown dull now that you’ve gotten more used to the size of him.

“Oh god, baby, why haven't we done this sooner?” you whine as you rock on top of him, enjoying the fullness of having him inside of you. The question is rhetorical, but he's in absolutely no state of mind to answer. His hands grip your hips tightly as he sniffles, unable to do anything else except enjoy the ride you're giving him.

Praises leave your lips, murmured in tones cloyingly sweet and half mocking. 

“Crying over sex, you're so lucky I'm so into you.”

“You look so pretty with tears in your eyes baby."

“Never had pussy this tight, haven't you?” 

That last one rips another sob from him, because you know this is his first, that you're making a mockery out of something significant for him. So you soothe with a kiss, and whispers of “I'm sorry, it's okay, you're doing so good, you feel so good.”

You punctuate it by moving faster, your pussy thoroughly comfortable and so wet that there's barely any struggle to bounce on his dick. However, you're still careful, still unable to take him all the way in. You figure it's something you both can work up to, something for the future. The thought makes you smile. 

Besides he doesn't seem to mind, moaning beneath you as you ride him. He seems to have lost all ability to articulate himself, instead just staring at you with red, tear filled eyes and a slack jaw. It makes you giggle, the way he looks so utterly fucked out. 

You clench around him, walls tightening sharply, sending sensations that make the two of you gasp. 

“I-I'm so close.” He manages to say, his hands now helping you, guiding your body as you impale yourself over his cock again and again, “Please, I'm so—”

“I know, baby, I know, you can come.”

His eyes squeeze shut, and his voice is especially strained when he asks, “Inside?”

You tug his hair teasingly, and his kids flutter open again. With a grin, you confirm, “Inside.”

A few more thrusts and he's gone, crying out, squirming desperately beneath you as spurts of his cum paint your walls. You don't stop, riding him continuously as you chase your own release. Thick, creamy liquid drips from your pussy and down the base of his cock with every movement. 

He sobs even more. 

“Touch me,” You whisper, pleading, “Spence, please baby, I'm so close.”

His fingers are at your clit in an instant, rubbing hasty circles as your pace grows erratic and sloppy. 

“Please,” He gasps, looking up at you with glassy, imploring eyes, “Please I wanna feel you come.”

Your body seems attuned to his desperate pleas, because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy clenches around him so tightly you both yelp in surprise. He doesn't stop his ministrations on your clit, helping you through your orgasm until you're panting. For the second time tonight, you collapse against him, face buried at the crook of his neck. 

“My god.”

He laughs, breathless, “My god indeed.” 

He shifts, moving slowly so he doesn't jostle your boneless frame too much. There's a hiss from you as he slowly pulls out. You find yourself clenching around nothing, feeling oddly empty after such an intense fullness. 

Silence wraps around both of you, heady and languid. His fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp. Soft intimacy after a whirlwind of lust.

And then he breaks it, so achingly sweet it almost makes you cry, “I'm sorry that I hurt you.”

“Mhm?”

“Earlier,” He clarifies, lips finding your shoulder and staying there. His voice becomes muffled and sheepish, “When I thrust up.”

“I didn't think you'd remember that.” You tease, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at his curls.

“I've an eidetic memory, remember? I remember everything.” He laughs too. Relief makes his voice sound lighter. “I never want to hurt you.”

“You didn't,” You reassure him, “Well - okay, a little bit, but it's fine. I don't think you meant to.”

“Of course not,” He hums, lips traveling up your neck, “But I'll be more careful next time.”

“Next time huh?”

“Mhm,” Teeth on your jaw. Playful, teasing. “Next time.” 

It sounds like a promise. You know he intends to keep it. 

This was a request by @mggslover lol I forgot to add up top oh well