#im too stubborn and too petty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bu3ck3r · 9 days ago

Text

still yours

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 5k

a/n: DALLAS WON IM SO HAPPY anyways this is the prompt tysm anon and im sorry that i haven’t been much active lately but i have a 2nd degree sun burn all over my body so i couldnt really move and finish this quicker but let me know if you liked ittt

paige laughed, breath a little too sharp, a little too loud. she’d just nailed a perfect three-pointer, the ball rolling clean through the net. teammates cheered. it should’ve felt like a win. but she turned, scanning for azzi—and found only an empty bench by the locker-room doors.

her heart clenched.

three nights without several texts, no good mornings, no spiels-of-support over video call. that wasn’t like them. and three days was starting to feel like a chasm.

the night before, she’d tried twice. sent a text when practice ended. nothing. a day later, paige had called, but no answer. she stared at the phone, thumb shaking over the screen. “you first,” she’d whispered to herself, recalling their argument from earlier that afternoon. it had been small—something about wanting different ways to decompress. but it blew up fast.

and paige, stubborn as she was in games, had walked away.

now she paced the hardwood outside the gym, mind twitching with replayed lines: “we can’t keep doing this.” azzi had said that. paige had bitten back: “maybe you need it.”

at 6:00 pm, the lights flicked off. teammates drifted toward cars and dorms. paige lingered, paced, heart loud like a drumline. maybe she’d been harsh. she’d been in a mood—preseason stress, half a dozen extra reps each night. but she missed azzi. missed her voice. even missed the petty fights.

she wiped sweat from her forehead and walked to the locker-room door. coach’s voice boiled low inside. just practice wrap-up. paige’s fingers paused on the handle.

she was about to open it.

then she stopped. pride. stubborn streak. this… this was azzi’s turn to reach out. that’s what she told herself. so she pretended not to see azzi’s hooded head slip out into the parking lot.

she blinked too late.

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paige stared at the ceiling in her dorm room. her side was cold and empty. typically, her phone vibrated: “you up?” “can you talk?” “i love you.” but tonight—nothing. only the distant hum of campus. only her own breath.

she replayed the fight from hours ago: azzi framed against the locker room mirror, eyes heated. paige had cuffed back, “you’re punishing me, you know that?” azzi’s lips had gone thin. her jaw had clenched. then silence. azzi had turned away and left.

now, dark. no azzi. no reassurances.

she lay awake until 2 a.m. fantasized replay: “baby, i’m sorry.” azzi’s forgiveness. wrapping arms around, soft forehead kiss. paige whispered it into silence until sleep slipped in.

the next morning sunlight filtered in. a couple shouted down the hallway. phone alarm buzzed at 7:15. paige blinked. rolled over. half-tempted to scooch close and check if azzi slept.

bed was empty.

she sighed, heartbeat heavy, void between pillows. she dressed in quiet, pulled on sweats and a hoodie. grabbed her phone. still no message.

she walked to the training table. still no word from azzi. last time they ate together here. now paige ate alone, slowly. every bite tasted flat.

she texted: “you okay?” no blue bubble. lunch passed. phone stayed silent. her heart went still.

practice was an hour away. paige wandered the main hallway, bag over one shoulder. she passed the training room. inside—azzi. dark hoodie, airpods, phone in hand, shoulders rounded.

paige froze. her heart cracked open.

was that… azzi?

she stood, hands tight ball. her natural instinct: run over, pull that hood down, kiss her. she tried.

her pride whispered: walk away. but her heart thundered: go.

she took three long strides.

“azzi.” soft. breathless. she looked up. no reaction—barely blinked.

“az…” paige said quietly. “you okay?”

azzi stared. words curdled. then: “not now, paige.”

it hit, an electric shock. then click, lips shut. feet spun. azzi turned around the right corner.

paige’s hand hovered two seconds too long, then fell to her side.

azzi sat on the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves stretched over her hands, staring at a phone screen that hadn’t lit up in over twelve hours.

a single, unread message from paige sat there. you okay?

she’d seen it. she couldn’t open it. because if she opened it… she’d have to answer.

she hadn’t slept. not really. just drifted in and out of shallow dozing, waking every time the wind made a sound outside the window, convinced it might be a knock on her door. her appetite was gone. half a granola bar sat abandoned on the desk next to a half-full water bottle she hadn’t touched since morning.

everything hurt in small, quiet ways. headache. throat dry. eyes gritty from lack of sleep.

and under it all: the ache in her chest.

she should’ve caved. paige always did. that’s how it worked. azzi got mad, paige chased. azzi got quiet, paige found the words. paige always, always fixed it.

but this time… she hadn’t.

and it was driving azzi crazy.

she rolled over, pressing her face into a pillow that still smelled like paige’s shampoo. god. she missed her. missed the sound of her voice, the stupid way she hummed to herself while brushing her teeth, the weight of paige’s arm slung across her waist when they slept. she missed being wrapped up in paige like she was a blanket and a safe place all at once.

azzi buried her face deeper into the pillow and let out a frustrated groan.

“why hasn’t she said anything?”

later that afternoon at practice the gym lights were too bright.

or maybe it was just her eyes.

azzi blinked against the sharp glare, hands on her knees as she tried to breathe evenly. her legs felt like jelly. her limbs lagged behind her mind. everything about her felt… sluggish.

she’d barely eaten.

her stomach churned with nerves and something like shame.

every drill was a blur. every cut, every pivot, felt like running through sand.

and paige?

she was there. of course she was.

on the opposite side of the court, laser-focused, sharp as ever. but her eyes flicked over. quick glances. barely-there moments. paige didn’t say a word.

azzi felt it like a slap every time.

“fudd! sprint!” cd snapped.

azzi flinched, blinked out of her haze, and launched into motion.

her shoes squeaked. her breath came too fast, too shallow. she pushed harder.

she couldn’t let anyone see. especially not paige.

but halfway down the court, her legs wobbled. her vision darkened around the edges. she shook her head, blinked fast, forced her body to keep moving. just one more drill. just one more run.

then she could crawl back to bed and hide from all of this.

paige noticed everything.

the way azzi’s shot was a fraction off. the way she didn’t call out switches. the way she walked, not ran, to reset.

paige’s chest was tight the entire practice. her hands flexed, wanting to do something, say something—but she couldn’t.

because what if she pushed too hard? what if azzi didn’t want her anymore?

she kept glancing over. couldn’t stop. couldn’t help it. azzi was her person. her gravity. even when they fought, her body was tuned to her. her heart pulled toward her like a tide.

the day before practice, azzi didn’t get out of bed until noon.

even then, it was only because her phone buzzed with a calendar reminder about watching film. she sat up slowly, arms wrapped tight around her middle, the weight of everything pressing on her chest like she was underwater. her stomach turned the second she stood.

she hadn’t eaten dinner the night before. she didn’t feel hungry—just… hollow.

she pulled on the first hoodie she saw—paige’s gray one with the frayed sleeve cuff—and yanked the hood up over her head. it still smelled like her. it made her heart lurch.

she picked up her phone. still no reply to the message she never answered. the guilt settled deep in her throat.

she thought about texting. just: “hey.” or: “can we talk?” but every time her thumb hovered, something screamed don’t.

if paige wasn’t texting again, maybe she really meant it this time. maybe she was finally tired of being the one to apologize. maybe she was over it.

maybe she was over her.

that one thought unraveled azzi completely.

they’d laid here together a week ago, after a long day of practice. paige had curled into her side, arm draped across her waist, face buried in her neck.

“you always smell like strawberries,” paige had mumbled.

“i literally use vanilla body wash.”

“well, your neck smells like strawberries. so i win.”

azzi had laughed—soft, warm, the kind of laugh that only came with paige close enough to breathe in. paige had kissed her under the jaw. then again. then again.

“i’m so in love with you,” she whispered.

azzi had closed her eyes and whispered it back.

now in the film room azzi barely took in a word. her eyes burned.

when coach paused the tape and asked her what she saw in a defensive rotation, she answered wrong.

paige was in the front row, taking notes, jaw tight.

azzi could feel her there. every movement was a live wire.

but they didn’t make eye contact.

azzi chewed on her bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.

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at 2 am azzi sat up in bed again, hoodie pulled tight. she hadn’t slept. the room was too still, too cold without paige’s voice, without her sleepy murmurs and half-snores.

she looked at the empty half of the bed.

her fingers twitched.

then she turned and curled into paige’s pillow.

the crash was coming. azzi’s body was screaming for rest. her heart was begging for peace.

and paige?

paige had reached her limit too.

but not in the way people thought. paige wasn’t done loving azzi. she was just tired of pretending it didn’t hurt that she wasn’t allowed to be mad, too. that she had to always be the one to cave.

but the next day at practice… something shifted.

azzi’s shoes were too tight. or maybe her feet were swollen. her head felt distant, like the sound in the gym was underwater.

she kept pushing through drills. cut after cut. jumper after jumper.

her legs were slow. her vision blurred. her head pounded.

she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. barely drank water. her body was quitting, and she knew it.

but her heart wasn’t ready to give in.

across the court, paige felt it. like an echo in her chest.

she watched azzi miss an easy layup. azzi, who never missed like that. her form was perfect—even when she was tired. this wasn’t normal.

paige’s fingers gripped her shorts tighter.

she wanted to run to her. pull her aside. just say, “baby, please look at me.”

but she couldn’t. not after three days of silence. not after azzi had turned away.

so paige said nothing. and hated herself for it.

coach blew the whistle. “transition drill! go!”

azzi took off on autopilot. half-court. full speed.her foot dragged slightly. then again.

paige noticed.

then, azzi tripped. her step turned into a stumble. her knee didn’t bend—it buckled. her body folded mid-sprint.

she dropped hard. hard enough that the sound of her hitting the court echoed.

paige’s body moved before her mind. she was sprinting, heart pounding, mouth dry.

azzi was curled slightly on her side, knees tucked. her hands trembled.

paige dropped to her knees next to her, not caring who saw. she cupped azzi’s cheek, voice shaking.

“baby. hey—hey, look at me. come on.”

azzi opened her eyes, barely. her lips parted.

“i’m fine…” she whispered. “i’m okay.”

“you’re not okay,” paige choked. “jesus, azzi. you scared the shit outta me.”

azzi tried to sit up. paige held her still.

“no, stay. just… stay for a sec.”

her hands were everywhere—checking her forehead, brushing hair from her face, stroking her wrist with her thumb. protective didn’t even begin to cover it.

teammates shouted for coach, but paige wasn’t moving.

“i’ve got her,” she said. “i’ve got you, honey. i promise.”

azzi leaned into her weakly

paige’s arms tightened around her like a lifeline.

she whispered, over and over:

“i’m here. i’m here. i’m so sorry.”

the gym cleared around them, but paige couldn’t see anyone else. her entire world narrowed to the girl breathing shallowly in her arms.

azzi’s skin was cold, damp. her body slack. her head rested against paige’s chest now, breaths slowing, eyelids heavy.

“az, baby, please stay with me,” paige whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “you scared me so bad.”

azzi mumbled something against her shirt.

“what?” paige leaned closer.

“i’m just tired,” azzi whispered.

her voice was paper-thin. hoarse. barely there.

“you haven’t been eating,” paige said, soft but firm. “have you?”

azzi didn’t answer.

“that’s what i thought,” paige murmured. “fuck.”

her voice cracked on the word. she pulled azzi closer, forehead pressed to hers. “you don’t get to do that to me. you don’t get to scare me like that.”

the coaches approached with water, ice packs. cd started to say something.

paige stood slowly, one arm locked around azzi’s waist, holding her up like she was made of glass.

“i’m taking her back,” paige said. her voice didn’t leave room for debate. “now.”

no one argued.

she barely noticed the stares as she helped azzi into the hallway. every few steps, azzi stumbled a little, and paige steadied her, one hand at the small of her back, the other gripping her hand tightly.

“you okay?” she asked, every twenty seconds.

azzi just nodded weakly.

paige muttered under her breath, almost angrily—at herself, not azzi. “should’ve checked in sooner. should’ve seen it.”

they stepped into the cool air outside. paige tugged her hoodie off and draped it over azzi’s shoulders without a word. she held her closer. pressed a kiss to her hair.

“you’re freezing,” she murmured. “jesus, baby…”

azzi leaned into her, not saying anything yet. just letting herself be held.

and paige? paige held her like she was terrified someone might take her.

when they got to her dorm, paige helped azzi sit down on the edge of the bed. she knelt in front of her, eyes wide with worry, hands gentle and constantly moving—fixing her hoodie, tucking loose curls behind her ear, rubbing soft circles into her knee.

“you’re okay now,” paige whispered. “i’ve got you.”

azzi nodded, eyes low. voice quiet. “sorry i scared you.”

“you didn’t just scare me,” paige said. “you ruined me.” she said it with a smile, but her voice broke at the end. her hand came up to azzi’s jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“i’m sorry, too,” she added. “for being stubborn. for not texting. for not checking in when i saw you struggling.”

azzi looked at her then. really looked. those big, tired eyes. a little glassy. a little sad.

“you weren’t supposed to wait,” azzi said. “you’re the one who always comes back.”

“i know,” paige whispered. “but i thought maybe you needed space. i thought maybe… i don’t know. maybe you didn’t want me to anymore.”

azzi scoffed—soft, bitter. “that’s dumb.”

paige smiled again, just barely. “yeah. i know.”

there was a beat of silence. just breath between them. then paige cupped azzi’s face fully, both hands now, holding her steady.

“i don’t care about the fight,” she said. “i care that you stopped eating. that you couldn’t sleep. that you fainted. az, if something happened to you…”

her voice cracked.

“i can’t lose you. do you hear me?”

azzi’s eyes welled. “you’re not going to.”

“you scared me,” paige said again. “like, heart-ripped-out-of-my-chest kind of scared. i didn’t even think. i just ran. and when i saw you on the floor like that…”

she broke. tears slipped down her cheeks. azzi reached up and brushed them away with her thumbs.

“don’t cry,” she said softly.

“i have to,” paige whispered. “you didn’t see your face. you looked like you were fading.”

azzi closed her eyes and whispered, teasing but soft: “told you. this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige blinked. then she laughed—just once. sharp, wet, broken. “god, i love you.”

azzi smiled. still weak. still pale. but she smiled.

“i missed you,” she said. “even when i was mad.”

paige leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

“i never stop missing you,” she whispered. “even when you’re two feet away and pretending i don’t exist. i’m still in love with you. obsessed with you. down bad, as they all say.”

azzi laughed softly, the sound barely more than a breath.

then she whispered, “lay with me?”

paige didn’t answer. she just gently helped azzi lie back, then slid in beside her, arms curling around her like a cocoon. azzi sighed into the warmth of it. her head on paige’s chest. paige’s hand stroking her back. their legs tangled.

“you’re not going anywhere,” paige said.

azzi hummed.

“not without you.”

azzi fell asleep first, wrapped in paige like a weighted blanket. paige stayed awake a little longer, just watching her, whispering promises under her breath.

“i’ll never make you feel like that again.”

“i’ll always choose you.”

“i’m yours. no matter what.”

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the sun was barely up, just a faint wash of peach light bleeding in through the dorm window. the clock read 6:40 am.

azzi stirred under the blanket, her head still resting on paige’s chest. paige didn’t move, not even a little.

she’d been awake for a while. just… watching. listening.

every rise and fall of azzi’s breath was a gift she hadn’t realized she needed until last night.

she almost lost her. not really—but it felt like that.

paige kissed azzi’s hair again, slow and soft.

“morning, beautiful,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

azzi shifted. a soft groan left her lips. “what time is it?”

“too early.”

azzi didn’t move. she just nuzzled her face deeper into paige’s hoodie, still hanging loose on her.

“you stayed.”

“of course i stayed,” paige said. “where else would i be?”

azzi shrugged against her. “i don’t know. avoiding me. like you were for three days.”

paige sighed. “fair. deserved that.”

azzi smirked—barely. “damn right.”

paige traced lazy circles on azzi’s arm.

“i was stupid,” she said softly. “i thought giving you space was the right move. i didn’t want to push you.”

“you didn’t push,” azzi murmured. “you disappeared.”

that one landed. paige’s hand paused. “i’m sorry.”

azzi lifted her head, just slightly, enough to look paige in the eye. her voice was rough from sleep, but steady. “you could’ve just said you were hurt. i would’ve listened.”

“i didn’t want to make it worse.”

“you not being there was worse.”

paige swallowed hard.

“i don’t want to fight with you,” she said. “not like that. not where it makes you stop taking care of yourself. you’re everything to me, az. you get that, right?”

azzi nodded slowly.

paige lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing the skin there with almost reverent care.

“i watched you fall and i swear to god, i felt my heart stop. that’s never happening again.”

azzi leaned into her touch.

then whispered, “what if we fight again?”

“we probably will,” paige admitted. “but i’ll still choose you. every time. even when i’m mad. even when you’re being a pain in the ass.”

azzi bit her lip, trying not to grin too wide. “down bad?”

“tragically.”

azzi rolled onto her side, facing her fully now, hand resting on paige’s chest. her fingers curled into the fabric. “i missed you so much it made me feel sick.”

“i know, baby,” paige said, voice breaking a little. “i could see it.”

“then why didn’t you say something?”

“i thought maybe you needed time. and part of me…” she looked away, just for a second. “i guess i thought maybe you didn’t need me as much as i need you.”

azzi’s eyebrows pulled in, sharp. “don’t ever think that again.”

paige met her eyes.

“i don’t know how to do this without you,” she whispered.

azzi leaned forward, kissed her slow—no heat, no rush, just a soft press of lips to lips that said everything they hadn’t.

“i love you,” azzi said when she pulled back.

paige’s face crumpled slightly. “i love you more.”

“you don’t.”

“i definitely do.”

“i passed out and you still ignored me for three days before that,” azzi said, now fully grinning.

“hey,” paige said, mock offended. “i ignored you for like… two and a half. max.”

azzi snorted. “still almost died.”

“oh my god.” paige groaned, dropping her head to the pillow. “you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“nope,” azzi said, kissing her again. “this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige’s hands slid around her waist.

“lesson learned,” she said. “never again.”

azzi yawned against her. “you gonna make me eat today?”

“absolutely,” paige said. “i’ll spoon-feed you if i have to. like, sit you on my lap and everything.”

azzi blinked, both eyebrows raised.

“…you’re enjoying this, huh?”

“a little.”

they both laughed—quiet and close, forehead to forehead. all the weight was still there, but it wasn’t pressing down anymore. it was shared now. carried between them.

later azzi sat cross-legged on paige’s bed with a bowl of oatmeal. paige had made it with almond butter, bananas, and a drizzle of honey—because it was the only thing azzi had even slightly agreed to.

paige hovered like a mom with a sick toddler, kneeling next to the bed.

“you good? you want a smoothie too?”

azzi smirked. “sit down. you’re making me nervous.”

paige didn’t move.

“you want me to feed you? ‘cause i will.”

azzi gave her a look. “you’re lucky i love you.”

paige reached over and kissed her shoulder. “i really, really am.”

azzi was wearing nothing but paige’s oversized hoodie and a pair of her own black shorts. her hair was up in a messy bun, strands loose around her face. her legs were bare, pale and smooth, tucked under her. her skin still had that soft post-sleep warmth to it.

and paige?

paige was down astronomically bad.

she was kneeling in front of the bed, chin propped on the edge like a puppy, eyes locked on azzi like she was studying her, memorizing every inch.

“you’re literally staring,” azzi said around a mouthful of oatmeal.

“i know,” paige said. no shame. just awe. “you’re so pretty it’s actually ruining my life.”

azzi gave her a side-eye, chewing slow. “baby. it’s oatmeal.”

“i don’t care,” paige whispered. “you could be eating something disgusting and i’d still be like, ‘wow, my girlfriend is so hot.’”

azzi laughed softly, setting the bowl down beside her. paige’s eyes tracked the movement like she was hypnotized.

then, slowly, deliberately, paige climbed up onto the bed. not crawling—more like gliding. she moved up on her knees, hands on either side of azzi’s hips.

“paige…”

“mhmm?”

azzi narrowed her eyes playfully. “you said i needed to eat.”

“you did. and now you did.” paige leaned in, nose brushing against azzi’s cheek. “which means now i get to touch you.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching. “you were already touching me all night.”

“yeah, but you were kinda dying, so it doesn’t count.”

azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek. then her jaw. then her collarbone—slow, tender, reverent.

“missed you so much,” paige murmured between kisses. “you don’t even know.”

her hands slid up under the hoodie, not to start anything, just to feel. her palms pressed flat against azzi’s lower back, thumbs brushing gently against her ribs.

“you’re so soft,” paige said, voice thick with affection. “how are you real?”

azzi wrapped her arms around paige’s neck, holding her close. “i should be mad at you still, babe.”

“you can be,” paige said, kissing just under her ear. “just don’t make me stop touching you.”

“you’re so clingy,” azzi whispered.

“and you love it,” paige whispered back.

she kissed her again—under the jaw, along her shoulder, small, dotting kisses that made azzi melt visibly. every touch was a little apology, a little i missed you, a little i’m never letting you go again.

paige slid down slightly, pressing kisses along azzi’s thigh now, her arms looped loosely around her waist. her voice dropped to a soft murmur.

“i’m gonna spend every second of this week making sure you never forget how much i love you. you get that, sweetheart?”

azzi looked down at her, cheeks warm. “you’re being intense.”

“i almost lost you. i’m allowed to be intense.”

“you didn’t almost lose me,” azzi said gently.

“you stopped eating, baby. you fainted. you think i didn’t notice your eyes getting darker every day?” paige kissed the inside of her knee. “that’s losing you. even a little bit of you slipping away? that’s too much.”

azzi touched paige’s hair, running her fingers through it slowly. “okay,” she whispered. “i get it.”

paige looked up at her. “yeah?”

azzi nodded. “i love you, too. even when you’re clingy and dramatic.”

“sue me.” paige said dramatically, crawling back up to eye level. she kissed azzi’s forehead. then the tip of her nose. then both cheeks. then her lips, once, then twice.

“you’re gonna be okay,” paige whispered. “i’m gonna make sure of it.”

azzi smiled sleepily, hands sliding around paige’s waist, pulling her closer. “you’re the sweetest when you’re scared.”

paige didn’t deny it. she curled into azzi, pulling the blanket over both of them even though the sun was fully up.

“i’m yours and you’re mine,” she whispered.

“yours,” azzi echoed, already half-asleep again.

azzi lay back against the pillows, arms behind her head, hoodie rising slightly to show the smooth line of her stomach. paige was tucked beside her, hand resting innocently—well, not so innocently—on her thigh.

“you keep staring,” azzi said, voice lazy and smug.

“how could i not?” paige said. “you’re out here looking like a dream and you know what you’re doing.”

azzi smirked. “i’m just lying here. you’re the one acting like i put a spell on you.”

“you did put a spell on me.”

“oh?” azzi lifted a brow and tilted her head. “and what kind of spell is that?”

paige’s voice dropped, just slightly, her eyes locked on her lips. “the kind where i can’t stop thinking about you. touching you. dreaming about you even when you’re lying right next to me.”

azzi leaned in, eyes hooded. “then maybe you should do something about it.”

there was a beat of silence. heavy, charged.

then paige let out a soft groan and rolled over her, caging azzi in with her arms.

“i love you,” she whispered, voice thick. “but you are so evil sometimes.”

azzi grinned. “you like it.”

paige kissed her. harder than before. not rushed, but deeper, more urgent—like every second of missed touches the past few days was pouring out through her mouth.

azzi pulled her in closer, legs wrapping around paige’s hips.

their bodies moved like they’d been waiting, aching, syncing right back into rhythm. there was no fumbling. just heat and softness, breath and skin.

paige’s hands roamed carefully, her fingertips ghosting under the hem of azzi’s hoodie, grazing up her sides, feeling every inhale, every flutter. she kissed her like she needed it to live—along her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her chest. soft and slow, then sharp and hungry, then slow again.

“paige…” azzi murmured, barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“mmhmm?”

“i still feel kinda weak,” she breathed, teasing.

“then let me take care of you.”

azzi smirked. “so dramatic.”

paige kissed the smirk off her.

“you have no idea,” she said.

in that moment, wrapped up in each other under soft light and warm sheets, the fight felt like something distant. not forgotten, but forgiven. their hearts had bruises, sure. but they were still beating in sync.

and for paige, holding the only girl who ever made her feel whole, there was no place else she’d ever want to be.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #pazzi fics #fiction #paige x azzi

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evie-sturns · 2 months ago

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stubborn - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you and matt get into an argument, which he just keeps dragging despite your best efforts to stop the fight. you find a creative way to get him to apologise..

contains: a petty argument, bratty!matt, sub!matt, teasing, dry humping.

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9:34pm

you and matt had been going at eachother for the past 10 minutes, it all started when you accidentally bumped into him while he was unpacking the dishwasher, causing him to hit his leg on the small dishwasher door.

"matt- literally why do you not fucking understand that accidents happen, its not like i body rocked you or some shit." i scoff, matt was just finding any excuse to argue with me.

"but it hurt! and it wouldn't of even happened if you were the one unpacking the dishes, makes me think 'bout how i do everything around this house." matt barks back, his voice raising in volume,

i take a step back, rubbing my face,

"we know thats not true, so dont claim some stupid shit like that." i mumble

"it is! all you do is lay on your ass and do nothing." matt says, his voice still loud.

"stop yelling, youre being ridiculous." i start, "im about to make dinner, and then clean our room, so i think that says something." i say.

"for once." he says with a snarky tone.

i feel my face heating up with pure frustration, "you know your being flat-out unfair, so stop it."

"im just saying the truth, and it hurts cause you know im right!" matt yells in my face,

"can you just go for a walk or to your room or something? im done with this and i want to make dinner."

"im not even hungry." matt mutters,

"okay? i need to make dinner anyway? so just go to your room please." i speak back, shaking my head slightly with disbelief about how stupid this argument was.

"youre such a bitch, always telling me what to do like youre my mom or somethin'." matt groans, running his long fingers over his flushed face.

"what the hell is your problem matt? seriously calm down!" i take a step back.

"my problem? my problem is that i cant even have a fight with my girlfriend without instantly being told what to do." matt says, getting more and more frustrated as he spoke.

"you're not even trying to stop this though? you want to keep arguing." i say softly, trying to deescalate the situation.

matt looks at me, his arms crossed over his chest, "maybe i want to argue,"

"i'm not fighting with you anymore, so you can try but its not gonna happen." i speak

matt groans in frustration, he was starting to deflate. "oh so you're done now? just finished?" he questioned.

oh my god, this kid just wouldn't let it go.

i grab matts wrist, tugging him down the hall.

"what are you doing this time." matt scoffs, resisting against my grip.

i pull him into our bedroom, slamming the door behind me as i shove matt backwards.

he stumbles backwards onto the bed, his eyes widening slightly as he stares up at me.

i crawl onto the mattress, my weight making the mattress dip slightly. i move closer to him, sitting right ontop of his lap.

"what- what are you doing?" he repeats, his voice slightly softer as he looks up at me through half lidded eyes.

"you don't want this?" i whisper, putting my weight fully down on his lap.

his cheeks flush a dark red, his adams apple bobbing up and down as he looks everywhere but my eyes.

"no- i- yes- i just mean that- i want this- yeah.." he rambles, his slender fingers.

"yeah, thought so." i speak softly, rutting my hips against his clothed crotch.

his eyes dart around the room,

"look at me," i say, grabbing his chin which is grazed with stubble.

his eyes meet mine, he looks so pathetic.

i gently press myself against him, dragging my fingers across his face gently.

by the second he's getting redder and redder,

"y/n.." matt mutters, his jaw clenching slightly.

"shhh.." i shush him, still straddling his lap.

"get off." he groans,

"why? because you don't want me to feel how hard you are right now? we both know its too late for that." i whisper

matts eyes widen,

"this isn't fair-" he starts,

"its not fair that you've been mean to me all day." i snap back,

"mmm- but you're being mean to me now!" he whines,

"tell me what you want then." i speak,

matt's cock throbs against the thick fabric of his jeans, increasingly becoming more uncomfortable.

"want you to touch me." he whispers, his hands reaching up and toying with the fabric of my shirt.

"say sorry first,"

matt groans, "but-"

"say you're sorry."

"sorry." matt whispers.

"look at me, and tell me you're sorry for being a dick." i tell him,

he rolls his eyes slightly before anwsering, "i'm sorry for being a dick.." he says, clearly humiliated as a small, damp, dark spot appears on his jeans.

"and say that youre the most annoying person to ever grace the earth!" i giggle,

"okay- pushing it now." he mutters,

---

wow i finished this thanks for the patience HAHAHA

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astrobydalia · 1 year ago

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The different inner placements for each sign — observations+ranking

by astrobydalia

Disclaimer: these are based on my personal experience and opinions!!

Aries

Mercury: so insanely smart and fast thinkers. Very real, straight to the point and say-it-like-it-is kind of people, love them. I could hear them talk all day

ASC: most authentic people you'll meet!!! What you see is what you get. Also very spontaneous and effortlessly fun

Venus: love, so fun to be around and specially the women with this placement they're soooo hot

Sun, Mars: these are very similar imo. so loyal and protective people but they tend to be pretty crass and often come across as rude unintentionally. Aries Suns are more blunt and outspoken while Aries Mars can be more chill but they're more prone to attracting hate. Great people to have in your corner overall.

Moon: Stubborn as fuck. Not open to understanding anything beyond themselves so they tend go around life with HUGE tunnel vision. Trying to reason/negotiate with them is nearly impossible

Taurus

Moon: my god, you won't know emotional intelligence, calmness and care until you meet a Taurus Moon like DAMN. Their patience, empathy and sense of boundaries is just impecable

ASC: their energy is sooooo soothing like ugh. They have a very cute and comforting aura, very magnetic people and naturally gorgeous

Mercury: they speak slow or not too much but once they let a full sentence out it's usually GOLD

Sun: hmmmm they do tend to be kinda full of themselves but they have BDE and are pretty hot so I'll give them that

Mars: VOICE is soooo good. However they tend to be low-key problematic tbh. Will get very snappy and petty real quick

Venus: I know this is venus's domicile but... most taurus venus I've seen were low-key kinda..... harsh and stern in their love style?? And not all that loyal if im honest with you, they're only loyal when they see personal benefit/satisfaction. It’s true that they’ll spoil you if they truly love you tho

Gemini

Mars: comeback queens/kings, also very multi-talented. What else can I say they always manage to be so iconic

Moon: out of all gemini placements they're the most likely to sit down and really listen to you. Can be too honest, another say-it-like-it-is placement. Comforting others is not their forte but they're very tolerant and patient

Venus: golden retriever energy, extroverted and popular and I've said this before but they can be very loyal!!

Sun: they are cool and so so funny but can also be veeeeery immature and a bit self-righteous. I love them but that bad press they have in pop culture exists for a reason that's all im gonna say

ASC: they're very intelligent and entertaining but gemini on the asc is such a messy placement imo cause they have an identity/existencial crisis at least twice a day which can make them kinda chaotic people to have in your life (love you guys tho)

Mercury: talking with them is VERY annoying tbh. They will just roughly listen to what you say just keep interrupting and eventually start their own monologue. They ain't listening they aren't even wanting for their turn to speak they're just waiting for whatever opportunity to speak

Cancer

Mercury: such good listeners!! also they are very honest and genuine with what they say like aries mercury but more tactful

Venus: this placement soothes down the most fiery personality. They are very loved and inexplicably magnetic

ASC: mommy issues. I love their intuition and they are really good at creating community wherever they go but my only complaint is they are defensive 24/7

Moon: hit or miss. Either really emotionally mature person that wants to take care of everyone or very immature and childish with a victim complex

Sun: huge attention seekers. Insecure, codependent and always looking for validation. Tend to portray themselves as innocent/clueless/harmless, etc.

Mars: these are SLY motherfuckers, they scare me more than scorpio mars

Leo

Moon: I have to admit this placement surprised me for the better. Yes they can be egotistical and entitled but when developed leo moons are very profound and passionate people with strong morals and are really good at inspiring others and lifting them up

Sun: the main character complex rumors may or may not be true but their magnetism and charm is undeniable

Mars: extremely prideful, my way or the highway kinda attitude, but they’re usually pretty harmless people from what I’ve seen. Their anger can be intense but they let it go easily after some dramatic moment. Dedicated.

ASC: daddy issues central. Known to be the most introverted leo placement but they’re very very very attached to their pride underneath. They really do wanna be/feel special and unique to the point of keeping most people at arm’s length cause that’s how much they wanna distinct themselves

Mercury: won’t hesitate to change topics if they don’t care what is being talked about or it has nothing to do with them. Laser focused on their interests tho that’s pretty cool

Venus: yeah they're generous but also a bit overbearing and low-key snotty. Tendency to associate themselves with people they don’t like all that much just because it gives them status or cause they get to receive lavish treatment

Virgo

Mars: omfg I love this placement so much. They handle conflict with SO much grace and embody all the good traits of virgo (capable, responsible, hard workers, great to work with, helpful, self-accountable....) *lady gaga's voice* talented brilliant incredible amazing show-stopping spectacular-

Venus: genuinely very responsable, dedicated and loyal in their relationships and commitments. I always find myself often complimenting their style and fashion choices

Mercury: a bit of a menace bc they can be good liars but they're always very very talented individuals in whatever it is they do

ASC: pretty self-serving tbh and often come across as goody-two-shoes or know-it-alls but they're alright for the most part. The virgo placement that has it the LEAST together tbh

Moon: they'll be there for you when you need help or advice but they can be pretty judgmental. They have a tendency to not really give people some grace. If they genuinely like you tho they’ll be extremely appreciative of everything you do right. Supportive

Sun: Very standoffish personality. Hard on themselves on the surface but probably also has a hidden superiority complex. The only placement where I prefer the men over the women

Libra

Moon: least superficial libra placement. Very introspective, sweet and find it really easy to understand other's emotions in an unbiased way

Mercury: invented the concept of understanding and voicing other perspectives with necessarily agreeing. Mind of their own.

Venus: superficial and obsessed with the opposite sex? Yes. Extremely devoted in all their relationships? Also yes.

Sun: meh. I keep having this experience with Libra Suns where I think they're great at first but then they end up being... not so great after some time. They're not bad really but their air-headedness makes them very unreliable

ASC: Their charm is manipulative and can easily hide a shitty personality underneath (not always the case tho). They're also the most emotionally superficial/detached of the bunch

Mars: hypocrates, huge huge hypocrates. Dubious morality. Playing devils advocate

Scorpio

Sun: they mind their own business and are really good at picking their battles wisely, only taking out their “dark” energy when it’s needed

Mars: don’t bother them and they won’t bother you. That’s the golden rule. Otherwise they’re pretty chill and unproblematic, dark humor enjoyers and strong-willed. I won’t say they’re completely drama free but hey

Mercury: they’ll be open to talk about anything, you can tell them literally anything and will listen intently without judgement. They can easily use info against others or withhold info tho so make sure they can be trusted

ASC: y’all low-key enjoy toxicity and drama but you don’t wanna admit it!!! They really thrive in uncomfortable situations and probably likes gossip too. One of the most black-or-white mindset placements

Venus: yeah not the best in relationships. They don’t really give their all and when they do give something it’s never unconditional. Relationships are always a power dynamic to them

Moon: Very tricky placement. Life has not been kind to them oof. Either they’re very traumatized people with a good heart deep down or very traumatized people with a really ugly and nasty soul. They also romanticize psychopaths and antisocial behaviors for some reason?????

Sagittarius

ASC: yes Im biased I don't care. But, be honest, when have you met a sag asc that wasn't cool af? Case closed. Life's good as a sag asc and when it's not, we make it that way

Sun: if you keep the men out of the equation sag suns are amazing!!! Their personality is like a breath of fresh air

Mercury: soso profound and intelligent. Will introduce you to new perspectives, great researchers. So good at finding answers and solutions!!!

Venus: Very open-minded, they are genuinely very accepting of literally any kind of person! They will applaud and celebrate your differences and quirks however they tend to be flighty and pretty light on their feet

Moon: Anger issues!!! Very volatile and defensive people underneath that chill and funny persona. They have well-known beef with someone. Don't like admitting their wrong, prone to ghosting everyone 99% of the times

Mars: the most entitled and rude out of all the sagittarius placements. The type to laugh in your face and never take accountability, their attitude can be revolting if you ask me

Capricorn

Venus: they make me MELT. So incredibly attractive, reliable, such an impecable taste, the way they treat you will bring you to your knees like ugh I can't

Mars: most resilient individuals I've seen truly!! Literally nothing will bring them down. So so ambitious, focused and have endless energy love them

Sun: cap suns and I have natural synergy. They're very level-headed, reliable, loyal and mature. However they are huge fatalists, very pessimistic and my jupiterian ass ain’t got time for that

ASC: too obsessed with their status and/or how they're perceived compared to others in their circle like sis stop caring sm what others think and live a little!!!

Mercury: listen, these folks can be very intelligent and well-read, but they tend to come across as narrow-minded or bigoted sometimes with the things the say or how they say things

Moon: I wanna root for y'all cap moons but being honest I've seen this placement is very common in really toxic personalities. They hold lots of past resentments and can be very judgmental and mean similar to virgo moons

Aquarius

ASC: socially adaptable but they stay true to themselves at the same time. Attractive, loyal and fresh personality/presence.

Mars: veeeery likable and popular. They really are dedicated to making an impact on the people

Sun: when they just simply focus on being themselves and doing their own thing they're very genuinely special and chill people and great friends! However when they care too much about being making themselves special they're very egocentric and unnecessarily problematic

Venus: messy placement. Very welcoming but they have big trust issues. They go back and forth between 'everyone loves me' and 'everyone hates me' and so they act accordingly....

Mercury: super intelligent, great in debates and very convincing, they always make great points. However the god complex is BLATANT here, they really think they're the only one that's right

Moon: another deeply traumatized placement. They can be great advocates for the collective however they tend to lack empathy specially when it comes to interpersonal relationships

Pisces

Sun: rough around the edges at first but they are a lot more helpless and vulnerable than they seem on the surface. Also they are genuinely really good at disappearing??? You won't even notice they're gone. Their presence is striking tho

Mercury: "idk what the fuck she's saying but girl I am living!". They have such a rich inner world I can't. SEDUCTIVE

ASC: they are... functioning humans. They go around life not being completely sure of what's going on but hey that Jupiter is somehow making everything work for them

Moon: "There is an idea of Pisces Moons, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real them. Only an entity, something illusory. And though they can hide their wondering gaze, and you can shake their hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense your life styles are probably comparable, they simply are not there"

Venus: I've already spilled the tea on this placement. Next.

Mars: ever person I've seen with this placement was mentally unwell like, severely. They're doormats for the most part but there's this hidden side of them that can turn into a total demon

by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #dalia rants #astrology observations #astro community

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777heavengirl · 6 months ago

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the one with the picture

sirius black x reader ! - 2,084 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: IM BACK IM BACK IM BACK also sorry its so late at night hectic day xoxo i hope you enjoy!! don't forget to drop a little reblog or even just comment guys!! it is so very appreciated and it lets me know y'all want more!

“Ready to become uncles?” You asked, a yawn following your words.

Remus smiled at you, soft and sleepy from the couch facing yours. His cane rested on the arm of the couch, abandoned for the comfort of the shitty hospital seat. Remus nodded wordlessly.

“I reckon I’ll be a terrible uncle,” Peter gruffed as he shook the box of candies into his mouth, emptying it “I have nothing to teach this bloody baby-”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to teach him anything Wormtail-” Sirius pipped up with a laugh from the corner where he paced in circles, head swiveling towards the room James and Lily were in as a nurse hurried out of it.

You ignored the bustling of nurses, you had long learned by now that unless you saw James, it probably didn’t mean anything.

“Why on Merlin’s green earth did they decide to give birth in a muggle hospital-” Peter groaned into his hands, the hours of waiting bearing down on him.

“Lily refused to do a home birth remember? St Mungo’s doesn't exactly do the whole birth thing- ” Remus muttered from the small beige sofa he had curled up in, long legs spilling from the edge of the cushions. You wondered if he was comfortable, but his eyes were closed and he had barely moved in the past two hours so you assumed on some level he probably was. Well, between his cardigan and long pants, he was at least doing better than you. You could feel your skin start erupting in goosebumps from the cold.

It had been a blur really, the furious knocking at your door at the hands of Peter, and haphazardly putting on the first thing you found after basically clawing off the stuffy funeral dress. You didn’t even have enough time to grab a jacket, barely putting on shoes as Remus and Peter swept you off to the muggle hospital. A shiver ran down your spine as you cursed the pajama shorts and stupid t-shirt you had thrown on.

You could feel Sirius’s grey eyes on you, staring straight into the side of your head. But you refused to look, instead burying your face further into your hands. You didn’t notice he had moved until he was right next to you-

“Take it-” Sirius handed you his suit’s jacket, basically shoving it into your arms so you couldn't say no. “You’re going to get sick,” You stared at it, fingers softly squeezing the soft material. He sat next to you.

The small, beige couch you had chosen to sit on was much like the one you had when you were freshly moved in. It lived in your home for a measly two weeks before Euphemia decreed that no child of hers would have such a stiff abomination in her watch. It was hard and restricting. The two of you might as well have been sitting on a wooden bench. But neither of you dared to move, so you sat, silently, both wishing Euphemia could save you from the clutches of the rigid couch.

Sirius thought of the sofa. And when you first moved in. Together and bright-eyed, he had been so in love with you then. He reckons he still was. But now he knew there was no hope of you loving him back.

He cursed the couch silently.

“Put it on,” he sighed as he leaned back, his white button-up shifting as he threw his arm over the backrest. “Don’t be stubborn-”

You huffed as you put it on, “thanks…”

“Don’t mention it,” you leaned back too, the back of your neck close to his arm, almost touching but quite. “Did you bring my camera?” you nodded, but he didn't answer back.

You couldn’t stand the distance between you, a thick jelly of silence that was anything but peaceful. You dreaded going home, you dreaded having to face that your best friend, the boy you so dearly loved was upset with you.

Especially over something so petty. What did he care that you had a job? Your own life? Something to do that wasn’t shared with him? It was rather selfish of him, wasn’t it? You could almost hear your father spew that sentence from the darkest pits of your mind.

You stared at the small bag in Sirius’s hand. You didn’t know why you hadn’t taken notice of it before. He clutched the small velvet bag tightly. Did it have an extension charm? You wondered if it was his things then, had he carried that to the funeral? You thought you would’ve noticed. Had he been planning on staying at James’s? Had he cleared his things at some point without you noticing?

You rubbed circles into the palm of your hand and chewed at your lip worryingly.

If your father knew he’d call you stupid. Stupid for not looking for an apartment to move out, stupid for not being the first to leave, irresponsible, too trusting, so stupid.

You decided you maybe didn’t want to know if he was indeed planning to leave.

“Hey-” he shifted uncomfortably “do you think we can talk about... you know, everything”

“Sirius I don’t know if it's the time-” You refused to even take a peek at him, even though you knew he was staring right at you now.

“Well, Merlin knows how much longer we’re going to be here-” he was right, you had all been here for ages waiting for the baby to come “so yeah it might be the time,”

You sighed, finally turning to look at him. His stupid shiny grey eyes, and his stupid porcelain skin. His stupid stupid frowning lip. He’d deny he was sporting one if you called him out on it.

He had always been a pouty one.

You were mad. At least you wanted to be, but when you looked at him, in all his disheveled glory, the hair he had run his hand through a thousand times, the white button-up with the top buttons undone and that had been unconsciously untucked from his slacks. You just couldn’t be genuinely mad.

So you softened, finally moving to face him. Your knee knocked against his, his warmth transferring from his leg onto your skin.

“I’m sorry, for being so petty earlier- it was unfair and-” Sirius sighed, staring at your hand on your lap. His fingers twitched with the need to hold yours, to feel your no doubt freezing fingers between his warm ones.

He thought of your first week of living together again.

He grabbed your hand. You stared at the bag in his other hand again.

Like if you stared at it hard enough it would tell you its contents. But your thoughts drifted as your soft fingers were enveloped in his. Yet, you didn’t say anything, you didn’t dare. You squeezed his hand and he finally looked up, back from whatever thought he had briefly gotten lost in.

“I’m really sorry about the past few weeks-”

“I’m sorry too,”

“I just wish you could trust me enough to let me take care of you- there’s no one else in the world I’d rather spend my days with…” You swallowed thickly as he spoke “I love you-”

“My baby’s here!” James burst through a door down the hallway, cheering at the top of his lungs without caring about the nurse shushing him. “He’s here and he’s beautiful come on you lot- come on!”

Sirius quickly scrambled to his feet, the other two boys following in the chaos of unsticking themselves from their respective sofas. You tried to ignore it, the sting in your heart. You loved him too of course. But did he love you the way you loved him?

There simply wasn't any time for that right now.

Sirius didn’t let go of your hand; he simply pulled, pulled until you came up with him. His hand grabbed tightly onto yours and as you ran down the hall, straight for the door to Lily’s room.

He never once let go of you.

The room was lowly lit, and Lily looked exhausted, but a smile graced her features nonetheless. Sirius tossed the small velvet bag to James with his free hand. The worry of it left your head as quickly as it had come.

Sirius dragged you by your hand all the way up to the bed, his face turning in wonder as he looked at the small baby in Lily’s arms.

“He’s so small” Peter called out from the foot of the bed,

“He’s so bloody pink-” Sirius glanced at James’s darker skin, a beaming smile nevertheless decorating his face. “Do you reckon he’ll stay like that? Or did he get the redhead’s genes?”

“Oi is that the first thing you have to say about your godson?” James couldn't help but laugh

“My godson?” Sirius stared blankly at James, briefly flickering between Lily’s equally beaming smile and the baby’s little pink face.

“I meant to ask but-” James smiled sheepishly as Lily glared,

“Merlin he’s my godson”

“Do you want to hold him?” Lily whispered as Sirius’s face broke into a smile as well,

“Of course, I want to hold my bloody godson Evans- he’s my godson”

Remus chuckled as he patted James on the back. You couldn’t help but wrap your hand around the camera that hung from your wrist.

You snapped a picture.

You knew what Sirius would write on the back of it later.

My godson. July 31, 1980

Just simple, and small, in his fancy, loopy cursive and black ink. But monumental in itself. He had done it. He had a family, he had always had one but now he was properly part of it. He was not just a stray taken in, but he now had a part in it. He’d love that baby until his body gave out.

He knew it, you knew it, James and Lily knew it. From the second he was born, this baby would be the most loved baby on the planet.

“I can’t believe he’s mine-”

“You don’t get to take him home mate”

“Hush Prongs- I’m going to be his favorite I know it” Sirius smiled, a playful smirk exchanged between friends. James couldn’t help but quip back

“Right after Uncle Moony-”

“Ah that’s for sure,” Remus laughed

“I meant his favorite parent but I reckon Wormtail will be the preferred uncle, with all the candy pouring from his pockets the kid is gonna love him no doubt-” You all couldn’t help but laugh-

“Do you want to hold him too?” Lily asked, her gaze shifting onto your face. “I reckon the godmother also deserves to hold baby Harry-”

“Are you serious?

“Obviously-”

“Lily are you being serious-”

“Yes! Black hand her the baby- god-” Sirius chuckled as he passed the small bundle into your arms, placing the camera at the foot of the bed. He was heavier than you expected, and the tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at his little face. Harry was small and definitely pink. He was a quiet little thing, undisturbed by the exchange of hands he was going through. Sirius leaned his chin on top of your shoulder, his cheek borderline pressed against yours.

“Isn’t he the ugliest most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Oi!”

“He’s so ugly it's cute-” His words tickled your ear

“I don’t think babies are supposed to be all that cute straight after birth Sirius-”

“I know love,”

“Alright, picture time idiots-” Remus said, leaning on his cane as he grabbed the camera with his free hand. James sitting on the side of Lily’s bed as you and Sirius also approached, baby Harry still in your arms.

“I look like shit-” You huffed as you sat on the bed with Lily

“I do too”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to Lils” Lily laughed. Sirius’s hand never left your back.

“Well- he won’t remember anyway-”

“The picture will-”

“Say godparents!” Sirius had basically wrapped himself to your side, his face pressed against yours, his arm around your waist as he leaned down for the picture.

The flash made your eyes sting, a wide smile on your face.

It was fitting, the disheveled state of the lot of you, even in the picture the nurse would take for you all later. A family sewed together like a mismatched quilt.

Sirius smiled all night.

“Seriously though why is he so pink? Is this some sort of condition? Bloody baby doesn’t look anything like Prongs-”

“-Yet” James beamed.

My family, July 31, 1980

taglist ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine @lanadelreykt @froggiedragon @stanzie

LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED U OR IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED (i was gone for like a month and some change so i may have not been able to properly keep up with the tag list but i did my best)

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thunderbolt-ing · 9 days ago

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Three Roommates and a Loft [2]

PREVIOUS | NEXT The One With The Damn Couch: an ungodly amount of boxes, two helpful roommates, one damn couch, and a partridge in a pear tree. Warnings: none except for your loser ex. Otherwise, very lighthearted silliness. A/N: This is such a fun series to write, i can't wait to post the other parts and im so glad you guys like it too!! i love them so much, my dysfunctional loft dwellers. Not thoroughly proofread!! Word count: 4.6k <3

Today was move-in day, and honestly, you were dreading it. The sheer number of boxes and mismatched furniture you owned was enough to trigger a minor internal crisis. Worst of all, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask the boys for help, even though you had three super soldiers at your disposal (well, two… maybe? You still weren’t sure if Sam was enhanced or just naturally built like a Greek statue. Note to self: ask him later).

Half of the furniture from your shared apartment with your ex-boyfriend was technically yours, which gave you a petty sense of satisfaction. You were leaving that man with next to nothing, you’ve basically stripped that sorry apartment down. You were now the proud owner of a one aggressively mid-century modern couch that was definitely larger than the one in the loft, two completely different nightstands, a custom-made bookshelf that you’ve DIY’d to resemble the ones you’ve obsessively pinned on Pinterest, a dozen potted plants, and a partridge in a pear tree.

None of those pieces of furniture matched the loft’s current aesthetic, which brought you to your newest problem.

You had no idea if the boys were okay with you bringing in your furniture, or by extension, completely redecorating their man cave with what could only be described as a Pinterest board chic. The loft was charming in that minimalist, exposed brick, bro-cave kind of way. It had a few battered bar stools, a couch that looked like it was going to fall apart anytime soon, and approximately one framed poster of Die Hard in the living room. They lacked a dining table, they had no rug, and there wasn’t a single plant in sight.

To put it simply, the loft lacked a woman’s touch; there was no hint of a woman ever having stepped foot in that space.

You took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to text Sam. He had become your unofficial point person during the entire moving process. He would respond promptly, didn’t leave you on read, and never made you feel stupid for asking a dozen questions.

Sam didn’t seem to mind your questioning. In fact, he’d been almost suspiciously nice about the whole thing. Steve was still too intimidating to approach without rehearsing a script first. Talking to him felt like talking to a celebrity, if said celebrity had no idea he was famous and somehow managed to be so charmingly humble about it. Bucky, on the other hand, was completely out of the question. You were ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t like you, or anyone really. His usual expression bordered somewhere between mild disdain and ‘please leave me alone’. Honestly, you weren’t brave enough to test the waters with him.

You sent Sam a photo of your rented moving truck, fully loaded with neatly stacked boxes and carefully arranged potted plants. A moment later, you sent another photo of your furniture sitting pitifully on the curb outside your old apartment. Your ex had flat-out refused to help load any of it into the truck, you figured he was hoping you’d get frustrated and leave it behind. Joke's on him, though, because you were far too stubborn for that.

You followed the photos with a quick text:

You: Sam, is it okay if I bring all of this?

He replied almost instantly.

Sam: damn, woman

Sam: is that… a proper couch…???? Oh thank god, ours is ugly and flat

Sam: telling Steve rn to chuck ours out on the curb IMMEDIATELY. I want yours

You: I'm so glad you said that. It’s a comfy couch, i promise.

Sam: im just glad the loft might finally look like adults live there

Sam: where are you? Steve says he wants to help lift stuff

You dropped your location without hesitation. You were relieved and surprised that you didn’t have to haul everything by yourself. You hadn’t even asked; they just offered, and after the week you’d had, that small token of kindness made you a tad bit emotional.

About thirty-five minutes later, the sound of a revving engine pulled your attention to the street.

Sam and Steve rolled up on a motorcycle like they were some sort of action stars in a low-budget film. Sam hopped off first, quickly approaching you with a grin on his face. Meanwhile, Steve parked the bike and pulled off his helmet with effortless cool. You expected the stoic man you’ve seen on television so many times, but instead, he looked genuinely happy to be there.

That alone knocked him down from ‘intimidating superhero’ to ‘potentially huggable.’

“Hey!” Steve called out, giving you a wave and an easy smile. “Came to steal your couch. Sam’s orders.”

“You're taking orders from this guy?” you shot back as you gestured at Sam, your brow arched in mock judgment.

Sam let out an exaggerated gasp like you’d just deeply offended him, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

“First of all,” he said, placing a hand over his chest, “I’m not just some guy. I’m a respected government employee who makes very important decisions. Occasionally. Like replacing that god-awful couch in our living room with this work of art.” He motioned at your near-perfect condition couch before moving to pick up a piece of furniture.

Steve let out a chuckle as he moved to help with one of the heavier boxes you’d left on the curb. You did a double-take and picked your jaw off the floor when he casually lifted your entire mattress like it weighed next to nothing and slid it into the truck with ease.

“He’s been talking about this couch since you texted,” Steve said, straightening up with zero effort. “I had to listen to him ramble on about lumbar support and aesthetics.”

“I know what I like,” Sam defended with a shrug, already heading toward the next piece of furniture. “And I like that couch. Nothing wrong with a man of taste.”

You bit back a laugh. “Taste, huh?”

Sam turned back with a grin. “You’ll thank me later when the living room no longer looks like a frat house.”

Steve nodded agreeably. “We don’t have an eye for interior design, unfortunately.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out as you watched Steve and Sam move in perfect sync, like they’d done this a hundred times before. You tried to lift a single box, just to be useful, but they immediately shut it down with matching looks of disbelief.

“Nope, do not,” Sam said, waving you off while he carried your lamps into the truck.

“Sit down, go drink some water,” Steve added, already halfway up the ramp with your dresser like it was made of Styrofoam.

So you resigned yourself to the curb, watching your life get packed up by two superheroes.

A few minutes later, you heard the creak of the front door behind you. You didn’t even need to turn around, you could feel the smug, stale energy of your ex wafting toward you like cheap cologne.

Adam stepped onto the sidewalk, pausing mid-stride when he caught sight of Steve carrying a part of your bedframe.

He blinked at your two roommates, eyes narrowing with confusion. “What the hell is going on? Is that—?”

You didn’t even bother turning to face him. You just let out a long, exhausted sigh, the kind that said you were done dealing with him. Your gaze stayed fixed on Steve and Sam, watching as your bookshelf was handled with more care than Adam had ever given your relationship.

“What do you want, Adam?” you asked flatly, arms crossed, and your tone devoid of warmth. “If you’re here to lift something heavy, great. If not, please go away.”

Adam’s eyes darted from Steve to Sam, then back to you, his mouth pathetically opening and closing. “Is that…? Is that Captain America?”

“Just Steve,” Steve said, his tone noticeably cooler than it was before. He didn’t know the backstory, but somehow, without being told, he already knew enough.

Adam shifted uncomfortably under Steve’s unreadable stare.

Before the awkward silence could stretch any further, Sam—who still held onto one end of your bookshelf—turned to Adam with a look of unimpressed disdain.

“Do you need something,” Sam asked, voice sharp, “or are you just gonna stand there and catch flies with your mouth open like that?”

Adam sputtered, clearly scrambling to put together a coherent sentence. “I just… I just think this is all a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

You let out a loud, bitter laugh before finally turning to face him. “That might actually be the funniest thing you’ve ever said,” you replied, voice flat as your laughter faded into silence. “Which is saying something, considering I’ve known you for six years.”

It was classic Adam, minimizing the damage he caused while making you look like the overdramatic one. It was one last taste of hell before you were finally free.

“You dumped me and gave me a week to move out,” you said, your tone sharp and unapologetic. “If anyone was being dramatic, it was you.”

Adam’s expression twisted as if he were about to defend himself, but every possible comeback would only dig his hole deeper. Before he could try, Steve stepped forward, not aggressively, but solid enough to send a subtle message.

“She’s got this handled,” Steve said coolly. “Thank you for your concern, Adam.” His tone was calm but final, leaving no room for argument.

“Yeah, take your ass back inside,” Sam added sharply, earning a pointed look from Steve. “...Please.” he tacked on begrudgingly, rolling his eyes.

Adam swallowed hard, muttered something about needing to get back upstairs, and turned on his heel without another word.

You exhaled, surprised by how much lighter you suddenly felt. It was as if something invisible had finally been unclenched inside of you. When you turned back toward the truck, both Sam and Steve were already back to work like nothing had happened.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to load everything into the truck. They moved with practiced ease, and before you knew it, the last box was secured and Steve was already climbing back onto his bike.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat beside you, shooting you a small, reassuring smile as he started the engine. You turned back one final time, leaving behind the version of you who tolerated a bleak man and the small, dim life that came with him.

And just like that, as the truck pulled away from the curb, you finally felt peace.

—

The moving truck rumbled to a stop in the narrow alleyway beside your new building, a small space that connected it to the one next door. You hopped out, taking in your surroundings that consisted of a cracked pavement, weathered bricks, and a series of classic New York fire escapes that zigzagged up the building.

On one of them, a few stories up, sat Bucky. He was perched on the steps, elbow resting on his knee, and sipping something from a mug.

Your eyes met for a brief second. Then, just as quickly, he looked away as if you had just disrupted whatever fragile tranquility he’d allowed himself that morning. Still, you offered him a polite wave. You knew he didn’t like you, but you made a point to let the universe know that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Not your fault he was perpetually grumpy.

In response, he stood up, took a long sip from his mug like he needed it to deal with you, and promptly disappeared back inside without so much as a nod.

So charming.

“That’s his way of saying ‘welcome,’” Sam said, glancing up at the now-empty fire escape before looking back at you with a smirk. “Real nice guy, once you get past the scowl.”

“I doubt it,” You replied as you walked over to the back of the truck, “I don’t think I’ll ever be fluent in Bucky-speak… and honestly? I don’t think I want to try.”

Sam chuckled, then rolled up the back of the truck with ease, ready to unload your things. Steve rounded the corner moments later, all smiles and a go-getter attitude, like helping people move was his idea of weekend fun.

Between the three of you, the unloading began, boxes first, and heavier furniture saved for later. It was surprisingly efficient, aside from the four flights of stairs you fought to climb up. Steve and Sam handled them like it was nothing, practically jogging to the top without breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, had to concentrate hard on trying not to wheeze. The last thing you needed was to pass out in front of two superhumans.

Back at the loft, while Steve and Sam were still downstairs, you wrestled a box you’d insisted on bringing up through the doorway. Sam urged that you not touch it, but you needed to feel useful. You couldn’t just let them do everything, even though both he and Steve reassured you multiple times that they could handle it.

“Are you trying to break your back?” a voice drawled behind you, equal parts exasperated and bored.

You turned around and found Bucky leaning against the wall of the couch-less living room, arms crossed and judgment dialed up. So, Sam had been serious about chucking the old sofa.

“Dragging a heavy box builds character.” You replied, panting slightly as you nudged the box with your foot, “Something you could use.”

“I was tortured by HYDRA for seventy years,” he deadpanned. “I’ve maxed out my character development.”

You paused, your hands on your hips as you stared at him in disbelief. “Wow, okay. We’re trauma dumping now? Cool, cool. So, when I was like seven—”

“Move,” Bucky interrupted, already pushing off the wall. Before you could get another word in, he lifted the box you’d been fighting with and tucked it under one arm like it weighed nothing. You had to fight the urge to gawk.

“I literally had that,” you insisted, though it didn’t sound so convincing.

“Sure,” he said dryly. “I could practically hear your spine snapping.”

You followed him into the living room, watching as he set the box down with zero effort. “You know, for someone who clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, you sure have a lot to say.”

“I talk when necessary,” he replied without looking at you. “Like when someone’s clearly about to slip a disc over a box of…” he glanced at the label. “...’Books and more books’? Are you turning this place into a library?”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but he was already disappearing through the front door.

You sincerely hoped he wasn’t planning on helping unload the rest. But, unfortunately for you, he absolutely was.

—

Downstairs, all four of you stood in a loose semicircle around the back of the truck, silently staring at the couch inside. It was significantly larger than the loft’s old one, and it was quickly becoming clear that none of you had thought through the logistics of hauling it up four flights of stairs.

The silence stretched, and Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose like he regretted coming down to help.

“I feel like we should’ve measured something.” Sam finally muttered as he squinted at the couch.

“No, no,” Steve said as he shook his head with the confidence of a man who refused to be defeated by a piece of furniture, “It fits, we just need all hands on deck to push it up the stairs.”

He climbed into the truck, already taking charge. “Bucky and I could take the chaise section first. Then the four of us can handle the rest together.”

“I could suit up and just fly the chaise up…?” Sam suggested helpfully.

“Let’s not scare the neighbors.” You vetoed, patting Sam on the back as you moved aside to give Steve and Bucky some space to bring down the chaise.

Steve’s plan had seemed solid at first. He and Bucky managed to painlessly haul the chaise up the stairwell with minimal fuss, while you and Sam followed with the cushions.

When it was time to haul the main section, that was when everything fell apart.

The stairs were narrower than anyone remembered, and the couch was bulkier than anyone admitted. The corners were too wide, the angles too sharp, and the laws of physics were actively working against you. Now, all four of you were wedged awkwardly into the stairwell with the couch jammed at a sharp diagonal between the third and fourth floors.

So close yet so far.

“Keep pushing!” Steve grunted from the top landing, shoulder pressed into one as he and Bucky tried to hoist it upward. Bucky let out a low grunt, his metal arm whirring under the strain.

“Uh, hello?! It’s stuck!” Sam called from beside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “Like, stupidly stuck!”

“It’s not stuck,” Steve insisted, pushing harder and lodging it even more firmly into the corner. “It just needs to pivot.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, wedging your back against the couch to help. “Do not say pivot.”

“I’m sorry, but we need to pivot left!” Steve yelled from the top of the stairs.

“What does that mean?” Sam yelled. “My left or your left?”

“Everyone’s left is the same if we’re facing the same damn way!” Bucky snapped, clearly seconds away from abandoning this entire operation.

“Pivot now!” Steve urged, straining as he and Bucky pulled from the top. “Pivot! Pivot!”

“Steve,” you gasped, “for the ever-loving god, you could just say turn!”

The couch groaned, and then miraculously, it shifted.

With one final, collective pivot and an unholy amount of effort, the couch squeezed past the stairwell corner and landed with a loud thump on the fourth-floor landing.

“I told you it would fit,” Steve said, far too cheerful for someone who nearly died trying to get the couch to move a few inches.

Bucky dropped his end of the couch with a thud and disappeared inside the loft without a word, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I should’ve let it fall.”

—

The placement of the couch sparked yet another argument.

Sam was adamant it should go against the big window for ‘optimal feng shui’, a phrase you weren’t sure he understood but kept repeating anyway. Steve lobbied for the couch to be against the exposed brick wall for ‘aesthetic balance’ and something about creating a strong visual focal point.

You, on the other hand, were too mentally and physically drained from nearly losing your life on the stairs to care. At that point, you considered lying down on the floor, but you didn’t trust it much and made a mental note to mop it down before placing your area rug.

Bucky, wisely, had removed himself from the debate entirely. He disappeared into his room without a word, presumably to recover from what he now considered his yearly act of community service. You didn’t blame him, you could practically hear his voice echoing in your head: “Figure it out. Leave me out of it.”

After a thorough scrubbing of the floor and some wrestling with the area rug, a compromise was made. The main section of the couch was placed against the brick wall to satisfy Steve’s vision, while the chaise was angled toward the window to appease Sam’s need for energy flow. Both men looked pleased, and you were just relieved that standing was no longer a requirement.

One by one, the three of you dropped onto the couch like flies.

Sam flopped onto the corner with dramatic flair with his arms draped across the back cushions. You claimed the chaise with a heavy sigh, slumping sideways with one arm dangling off the edge and the other clutching a throw pillow. Steve eased himself down with a satisfied grunt, hands on his knees, looking like he’d just completed a major tactical operation.

“See?” he said, beaming as he leaned back into the cushions. “Teamwork.”

“Worth the pain,” Sam muttered, letting out a relaxed sigh, “this couch feels like a cloud.”

You grinned happily, sinking deeper into the cushions as you felt a warm sense of satisfaction settling in your chest. Despite the mess of the mountains of boxes, you’d officially contributed something good to the space. The loft still looked like a war zone from the move, but at least the living room finally felt like a living room and not the sad foyer of a glorified man cave.

Bucky rejoined civilization moments later, water bottle in hand, looking like he’d just barely forgiven the three of you for making him carry a couch.

He paused in the doorway, doing a double-take at the transformed living room. You thought, just for a second, you caught a flicker of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, quickly smothered before it could be considered an emotion.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, grinning as he gestured proudly to the space.

Bucky took a long sip from his bottle, eyes scanning the new setup.

“Looks livable,” he muttered, which, coming from him, might as well have been a glowing five-star review.

“You’re welcome,” you called out with a smug grin from the couch.

Bucky didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked straight into the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you at all.

“He likes it,” Sam whispered giddily, nudging your leg like a kid who just witnessed something scandalous. He looked far too pleased that you’d managed to extract any emotion from Bucky. You gave him an equally delighted smile, both of you sharing a silent victory like proud co-conspirators.

“I think I’m just gonna lie here for the foreseeable future,” you mumbled, already sinking deeper into the cushions. “I physically cannot haul the rest of my stuff upstairs. No more stairs for me.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam said casually, patting your leg.

Your eyes widened. “Wow, Sam. That’s really kind of you. Thank you for—”

‘Oh no, no,” he cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not bringing anything up. I switched rooms with you. You’re in the downstairs bedroom now—the one next to Bucky’s.”

You sat up, throwing the pillow on the floor. “What?”

“What?” Bucky echoed sharply, his head poking into the living room from the kitchen with his eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“What’s going on? Why are we saying ‘what’?” Steve chimed in, blinking like he’d just come back from where he’d mentally checked out.

Sam shrugged, completely unbothered. “It’s the best case scenario. She’s a woman and she’s got, like, a lot of stuff,” he gestured at the boxes scattered across the loft. “That room’s bigger. Her junk fits. And I don’t have to listen to Bucky sleep-talk through the wall anymore. I’m a light sleeper, man.”

“I do not sleep-talk,” Bucky muttered defensively from the kitchen doorway.

“Oh really?” Sam shot back. “Last week, you said ‘I’ll kill you where you stand’ at three a.m., and it scared me so bad I had to lock my door.”

You held up a hand, trying to keep up. “Can we circle back to the part where you just moved me without asking?”

“Door’s already open,” he added, completely ignoring you. “I already put your suitcases in there, and your bedframe’s already assembled. You’re welcome.”

Bucky crossed his arms, glaring. “I didn’t agree to this. We had a bathroom system, Wilson.”

“Okay, then come up with a new system with her,” Sam replied, clearly proud of his problem-solving skills and equally oblivious to how very against this idea you and Bucky both looked.

Steve blinked between the three of you, finally putting it all together. “Oh, that’s why Sam told me to reassemble your bed in there…”

You let out a slow, deep sigh. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve held up his hands like he’d just realized he accidentally committed a crime. “I didn’t know it was a bad thing! I thought I was helping!”

Sam patted your leg like he’d just done you a favor. “This is going to be great.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to strangle him or yourself.

—

Night fell slowly over Brooklyn, the sunset casting a golden hue through the loft’s wide windows before the city’s glow took over. Boxes were still everywhere, potted plants were scattered in the living room, and takeout containers on the kitchen counter hinted that no one had the energy to cook.

Despite the chaos, the loft was finally quiet as everyone retired to their rooms. You were the last to head to bed, lingering in the living room like staying there might somehow delay the inevitable reality that you were now sleeping next door to Bucky Barnes. Eventually, a little after nine, you reluctantly padded to your new room, thanks to Sam’s unsolicited relocation efforts.

You had to admit, the room itself was… perfect. Annoyingly so.

The room was bigger than the one you would’ve had upstairs, which easily accommodated your desk, bookshelf, and all the other ‘woman with a lot of stuff’ essentials Sam had so graciously cited as justification. Your suitcases were inside the closet, ready to be unpacked. Your favorite lamp was already plugged in and set on your nightstand (courtesy of Sam). Even your diffuser was thoughtfully placed on the windowsill.

It took you a couple of minutes to get yourself somewhat settled. Now, you lay on your bed wrapped in familiar sheets, staring at the ceiling, surrounded by a half-unpacked mess and the distant hum of New York traffic.

It almost felt like home, until the walls reminded you that they were roughly the thickness of a tortilla.

From the other side, muffled but clear, you heard the sound of a drawer slamming.

Then silence.

Then, a sigh. The long, exhausted kind, followed by the unmistakable clatter of something metallic.

You rolled over and pulled a pillow over your head. You could do this. You just needed to adjust.

Another beat of silence.

Then, Bucky’s voice, low and muttered: “Where the hell is the other sock?”

More shuffling and noise followed, and you were trying your hardest to grasp at the last shred of patience you had. The noise continued for a couple of minutes, and you tried to ignore it by burying yourself in your covers.

Silence settled for a few seconds, enough to make you think it was over, before a barrage of thuds, drawer slams, and muttering followed.

You groaned and sat up, marching across your room to knock on the wall.

It went quiet, then from the other side:

“What?” Bucky’s voice was muffled, but it was clear that he was annoyed.

You pressed your forehead to the wall and replied, “If you’re going to have a breakdown over a sock, can you please keep it quiet? I’d like to have a full eight hours of sleep.”

“It’s nine-thirty. On a Saturday.”

“Some of us have functioning circadian rhythms.”

Footsteps followed. Then, under his breath, you heard: “God, they’re the same. Both annoying.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What was that?”

“I didn't say anything,” Bucky grumbled, annoyed but backpedaling.

You bit back a chuckle, lips curving despite yourself.

With a shake of your head, you walked back to your bed and climbed under the covers. To your surprise, the noise actually stopped. No more stomping, slamming, or sock-related mumblings.

Just quiet.

“Good night, Bucky,” you called softly, not expecting a response from the grump.

For a second, there was nothing. Then, muffled through the wall, you heard his voice.

“...Night.”

It wasn’t exactly warm, but at least he responded. You had little hope that this arrangement would work out, but maybe it would.

Maybe. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Endnotes: steve and sam are tied for roommates of the year btw.

tags (lmk if you want to be tagged!): @okbutiambabygorl

190 notes · View notes

viceroywrites · 10 months ago

Text

deja vu - part 2

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

choose your own ending / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

(if you would like a link to the playlist i created for this series, lmk!)

part one | part three

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii/@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby / @gxstiess / @skrunkle11 / @valinbean / @funkyenby / @therealgoofygoober69 / @theblueraven / @adrian920155 / @im-kinda-bored / @miarabanana / @uwauiss / @leo4242564 / @doggosnoodles12 / @soupieoopieisloopie / @zhungxi / @bandaids-n-porcelain / @marvelous-maniac / @opossumclown

It was a tense interaction following your question.

Ford’s eyebrows raised in alarm and he carefully approached you, “Of course, we’ve met before, it’s me, Stanford.”

You pause, glancing between Stanley and his twin before replying hesitantly, “Sorry, the name doesn’t ring a bell. I just learned your name a few seconds ago from your brother.”

Ford’s lips narrow into a thin line, vexation written all over his face, “I know we parted ways on less than ideal terms, Y/N, but there’s no reason to pretend like you don’t recognize me.”

Your eyebrow raised at Ford’s firm stance, crossing your arms, “I’m sorry to say but I truly don’t. Maybe you have me mistaken for someone else perhaps?” You can’t help but get defensive, feeling accused that you were blowing off this complete stranger.

“Oh, I’m not mistaken. I know you very well, Y/N. I know that you got your Masters in Geology at Backupsmore. I know that ammolite is your favorite gemstone. I know that you learned hamboning from Fiddleford just to get on my nerves.” Ford counters you with facts, his own stubbornness coming through as you stare each other down.

Your eyes widen at the amount of detail Ford seems to know about you, “How do you know all these things about me? How do you know Fiddleford? Did you help him with his research out here?”

Ford sighs heavily, “I know I messed up back then and I know you must hate me but can you please drop this childish charade?” His low voice raises slightly in volume as his frustration mounts as he finally snaps at you.

“Ford!” Stan cuts in between the two of you, catching both of you off guard, “Lay off her… I genuinely think she doesn’t… remember.” He sighs, putting the pieces together surprisingly quickly compared to his brother. He grabs his twin by the arm, pulling him off to the side, “Give us a second, we’ll be right back.” Stan says to you, giving you an apologetic stare.

You nod slowly as you decide to take a seat on the steps, watching as the sun slowly begins to set in the horizon. This new information perplexes you as you try to wrack your brain if Fiddleford had ever mentioned working with someone during his time in Gravity Falls.

Meanwhile, the Pines twins walk off into the distance, just out of ear shot. “So who is she?” Stan questions, needing answers from his brother before he can present his finding. Ford bristles at the question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looks off into the distance before answering, “Remember when we were out at sea commiserating on past romances… and I told you how I had met someone during my time in college but she left after I had gotten too deep into my involvement with Bill.”

“Yeah, vaguely, I thought you were just making that up to try and relate to my stories about my ex-wives. You never were smooth with the ladies.” Stan admits with a shrug to which Ford rolls his eyes at. “Well, that’s her. The age old cliche of the one that got away.” Ford summarizes, “But she was never this petty before. I know I hurt her immensely but…”

“She’s not being petty, poindexter. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Stan sighs, running a hand over his face in exasperation. Ford stares back blankly at him, unsure how to respond. “God, you’re supposed to be the smart one here. Remember your old friend McGucket’s invention? You know the one that can literally erase memories? The one that erased all my memories?” Stan spells it out for his brother.

It all clicks in Ford’s head, “You don’t think… Fiddleford wiped her memory, do you?”

“Ding, ding, we got a winner!” Stan says sardonically, “Took ya long enough.”

“Why would he do that? I need to get to the bottom of this, Stanley…” Ford looks over his brother’s shoulder, staring at you. Despite the time that has passed, you look just as vibrant as he remembered you, your features highlighted in the orange glow of the sunset.

Stan notices the longing look on his brother’s face and places a hand on his shoulder, “You know she’s supposed to head out tomorrow morning? Got a whole road trip planned ahead.”

“Well, let’s see if she’d at least be willing to stick around to talk to Fiddleford.” Ford says with steely determination as he begins to walk back towards you, Stan following at his heels.

You look up as the pair walk up to you, able to see them side by side. There were distinct differences in terms of style but they were nearly identical, only just now picking up the cleft in Stanford’s chin and their different glasses.

Ford mulls over his choice of words. Despite being the more logical twin, Ford had to admit he was perhaps just as stubborn as his brother. “My apologies for my directness. I know you may not remember me, but please trust me when I say that we have an extensive history together. What if we were to visit Fiddleford tomorrow to perhaps quell your doubts and clarify some things?” He offers, hoping in the back of his mind that you’ll say yes.

You pause at the offer, thinking it through. You had the urge to decline, still on the defense. After all, this man pretty much accused you of acting like a child when you didn’t recognize him.

However, you did wish to see Fiddleford again, so curious about what happened to him after all these years.

“Alright, I’ll stay another day in Gravity Falls to see Fiddleford. But I want to know a little bit more about you.” Your eyes narrow in on Ford. Stan clears his throat, very aware of the tension between the two of you. “Well, I’m gonna go take care of… the broken thing inside...” He grumbles out the last part, making an awkward escape as he walks past you up the steps before pausing at the door to address you, “Come back inside whenever you and Sixer are done talking, I’ll clear out one of the rooms so you can stay for the night.”

Before you can protest, Stan closes the screen door behind him, giving you and Ford some privacy.

“So you had some questions for me?” Ford sighs, deciding to take a seat next to you. It felt so strange to be so close to you physically after all this time yet so distant due to your loss of memories, wishing that he could pull you into a tight embrace and apologize for everything that happened in the past.

“Well, I’m assuming if you know Fiddleford and somehow know that I got my Masters in Geology that you went to Backupsmore as well.” You start there, knowing the common thread that connects the two of you is the university you all attended, “That’s correct, not my first choice obviously.” Ford replies with a nod.

“Is it anyone’s first choice?” You comment which pulls a chuckle from Ford who shakes his head. “Very true, I know it wasn’t either of ours. Fiddleford was just elated to be the first in his family to even go.”

“So what did you major in?” You ask with a tilt of your head, “And how did you meet Fiddleford?”

“What didn’t I major in is the better question. I technically have 12 PhDs but my main focuses were Physics and Molecular Biology.” Ford admitted with a sense of pride, your jaw almost dropping at this information. ”As for how I met Fiddleford, I had proposed a theory in class one time that immediately got shot down by my professor. But Fiddleford shared my passion for pushing boundaries of existing theories and knowledge and we spent the whole night trying to prove it had validity.” Ford said, smiling at that particular memory.

You note the admiration in Ford’s voice as he speaks of Fiddleford, knowing that their relationship must be close. “I’m so confused… how do I not remember you if you and Fiddleford have such a close relationship?” You sigh, second guessing your own memories at this point. All this information felt like it made sense logically but it was difficult to suspend your disbelief. You hesitate to ask the question, “How... did we meet?”

Ford pauses, staring out into the forest, unable to meet your gaze as he recounts your first meeting. It seems so distant but it was a simple time before life got complicated.

Before he made your lives complicated.

Before he can reply, you cut him off, seeing the pained look in his eyes and realizing you may have gone too far. Whoever you were to him, something must have happened between the two of you that led to this reaction. “Actually, don’t answer that… It's getting late and I know we’ll have all of tomorrow to go over this with Fiddleford.”

“Right… we should probably call it for the evening.” Ford lets out a sigh of relief, getting up from his spot on the steps. He offers his hand, your eyes flicking towards it and noting the six fingers that were facing towards you. Realizing what you’re staring at, he is about to withdraw his hand, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks, but you take it, your warm fingers wrapping around his palm, as you stand up.

“Are you heading inside?” You ask, still holding into his hand. He realizes you have yet to let go and basks in the moment, fighting the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours. “I’m going to stay out here for a bit longer. I should probably fix that invention that I was working on before…” Ford admits, almost waiting for you to scold him like you would in the past.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod in understanding, squeezing Ford’s hand one final time before letting go. “Alright, I’m gonna head inside and see where I’m sleeping for the night…” You begin to walk towards the doorway before pausing at the door.

“Hey… I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I really hope tomorrow something sparks my memory.” You say, “Good night, Stanford.” You disappear behind the doorway, not waiting for him to respond.

Ford stares as he watches your frame retreat from behind the door, “Good night, Y/N… my dear.” The old pet name feeling heavy on his tongue but he can’t help but let it out.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you wonder how you even ended up in a storage room inside a tourist trap, laying on an air mattress.

Your trip - at least for the next day or so - is derailed. You’re thankful that Stan had offered to let you stay in the Mystery Shack as you were planning on sleeping in your car underneath the stars, drained from today’s turns of events and too tired to drive into town to try and find some sort of accommodation.

Yet your trip isn’t even the most pressing thing on your mind.

Who is Stanford Pines?

Your eyes shut tightly, trying to mull over the potential possibilities of how you might know this man who vehemently claims to know you. You knew you were getting older but there’s no way your memory was this shot, especially considering the fact that Ford had shared that he and Fiddleford were close friends and went to Backupsmore.

Your mind continued to draw blanks, unable to pinpoint a single memory that involved him.

Yet something about him was so familiar. Maybe that’s why a sense of deja vu had hit you the moment you met his brother and walked through the Mystery Shack.

Finally, fatigue hits you and you are able to fall asleep, slipping into a new dream.

You find yourself back at Backupsmore, walking through the quad and making your way to the library. The campus is decorated in hues of orange and yellow, autumn leaves scattered across the grass. Your boots crunching against the leaves as you weave through the bodies that mill around to and from class.

A gust of wind hits your face, wincing as the harshness against your skin as you had forgotten to bring a scarf on your trek. You finally make it to the library, opening the heavy doors to be greeted to the warmth and scent of old paperback books.

You walk past the front desk, making your way directly to the back of the library to the stacks. You pass the mostly empty study carrels one by one, looking for someone specific.

You get to the very end of what seemed like a never ending maze and see a table tucked into the corner, surrounded by bookshelves. A broad-shouldered figure, wearing a sweater vest, sits facing away from you, their head buried in the pile of books around them.

Your lips begin to move, calling out a name to address the person before you.

Stanford.

You wake up in a startle, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you feel a sudden pressure on your chest. Your eyes adjust to the sight in front of you, seeing a blur of pink, thinking you’re still dreaming. Rubbing your eyes vigorously, you realize there’s a pig sniffing your face in curiosity.

“God, what have I gotten myself into?” You groan out groggily, laying back in defeat as Waddles begins to lick your cheek.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Ford sits awkwardly in front of an audience of his great nephew and niece who are gaping at him in awe, just having explained the whole situation to them as they questioned who’s car was parked in the front of the Mystery Shack.

Stan sips from a mug that spells ‘World’s Greatest Grunkle’ that Mabel made him, a slightly amused grin spreading across his face. The look on their faces was priceless, he thinks to himself, wishing he could take a photo of it. Though, he was in their shoes just last night, still processing that his poindexter brother actually landed someone after all those years of fearing girls and that she somehow ended up stranded on the side of the road just as he was driving back home.

He was just grateful though that his brother wasn’t around for the parts where he was clearly smooth talking to you, unaware that you were his twin’s ex-lover.

“Oh my god, Grunkle Ford, this is amazing!” Mabel exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief, “See, I’ve been trying to figure who the ideal candidate would be to match you with but I couldn’t think of anyone in Gravity Falls. Maybe you two can rekindle your romance! We just need to do what we did with Grunkle Stan and show her things to remind her of your time together!”

“Or maybe her memories are stored where the Society of the Blind Eye held Old Man McGucket’s memories? There were a ton of Gravity Falls citizens’ names in there, I’m sure she’s somewhere in that pile.” Dipper offers as a suggestion, more invested in understanding how to restore memory loss from the Memory Gun than Mabel’s romantic plans for her uncle.

Though he had to admit that there was a sliver of him that was rooting for his Grunkle Ford in the romance department.

“Those are excellent suggestions, kids. I’m hoping perhaps talking to Fiddleford today will be one of the first steps into getting her memory back. There is one issue though with your suggestion, Mabel.” Ford admits, slightly crestfallen, “I don’t really have anything left from our time we were together. When she left, she took all remnants of her, photos of us together, letters she wrote to me. What I do have left I’m not sure if it will be effective in bringing those memories back.”

“What is it, Grunkle Ford? Maybe we can still use it, you never know if you don’t try!” Mabel said in reassurance.

Ford hesitated, feeling Dipper, Mabel and Stan’s eyes trained on him, waiting for a response.

Thankfully, your presence saved him in the nick of time, clearing your throat awkwardly. This catches everyone’s attention, Dipper and Mabel’s head whipping around. You stand in the entrance to the kitchen, still clad in your pajamas and your hair tousled from sleep, holding Waddles in your arms.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting, I just wanted to make sure this pig is supposed to be in here. He somehow got into my room.” You say, noticing how Waddles squirms now in your arms as he sees Mabel. You put him down and watch him scurry to Mabel who eagerly scoops him into her arms, nuzzling his pink cheek.

“You’re all good, we were just having breakfast. Need a cup of coffee?” Stan says nonchalantly, grabbing the coffee pot that was by his elbow. You nod eagerly, walking towards him and taking the mug that he poured you. “These are me and Ford’s grandniece and nephew, by the way, since you didn’t get to meet them last night. They’re staying here for the summer.” Stan gestures to the two twins that are staring at you like you had a second head.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mabel! Sorry about Waddles, he kinda wanders around the house if I’m not awake yet.” The energetic brunette introduces herself. “No need to apologize, he was very sweet. If anything, he got me out of bed to get my day started. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say with a relaxed smile.

“I’m Dipper, nice to meet you. Grunkle Stan was just telling us how you ended up staying here.” The more relaxed male counterpart to Mabel chimed in, trying to move the conversation away from the topic discussed prior to you entering the room. Ford let out a slight sigh of relief, grateful that he was no longer in the hot seat.

“Well, your Grunkle Stan saved me from having to spend a pretty penny on a tow truck and a place to stay so I’m very grateful for that.” You chuckle, getting used to the term ‘Grunkle’.

“Sooo, Y/N, mind if I do a little Q&A with you? Since you’ll be staying here, I wanna get to know you better!” Mabel said eagerly, mentally mapping out her questions already. You blink owlishly before your eyes flick between Stan and Ford in amusement, “Fire away, Mabel. Though I hope your Grunkles didn’t put you up to this as a little payback for when I interrogated them yesterday?”

“She questioned you too?” Ford says in surprise to his brother who scratches chin mindlessly. “A little bit after finishing up the tour I gave her of the Mystery Shack. This one’s ruthless, no wonder she works for the government!” Stan taunts, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Wait, you work for the government?” Dipper asks, his eyes slightly narrowing in skepticism. You blink at his almost defensive reaction before elbowing Stan in the side who almost chokes on his coffee, “I literally asked you three questions. Don’t listen to him, I work for the National Parks, not the CIA.”

Dipper visibly relaxes and Mabel’s eyes linger on where you elbowed Grunkle Stan, picking up on how relaxed you seemed around him compared to Grunkle Ford. In fact, you had barely acknowledged Ford this morning, standing by the counter next to Stan. Mabel decides to take matters into her own hands, playing matchmaker as she gets up from her chair.

“Well that answers one of my questions. By the way, take a seat, Y/N! You’re our guest and I’m finished with my pancakes!” She walks over to you, pulling you by the hand as you plop onto the chair that is coincidentally right next to Ford. “Thanks Mabel..” You roll with the situation before looking over at Ford who stares at you with what seems to be pride.

“You really made it to the National Parks, huh? That was your dream since freshman year…” Ford says though immediately regrets it as you stare back at him in surprise. “Yeah.. I did. No one really knew about that.. Not even Fiddleford.” You reply, running your thumb over the print on the mug bashfully. “Well, um... I’m really happy for you. I know you must have worked hard to get there.” Ford offers, not sure how else to respond.

You smile warmly, taking a sip from your coffee, “Thanks, I appreciate it. It means a lot coming from someone with 12 PhDs.” You tease at the end to which Ford’s cheeks redden in embarrassment and flattery.

Mabel hops up on the counter next to her Grunkle Stan who mutters under his breath, “Smooth move, kid.”

You turn to look back at Mabel, “Any more questions for me?”

Mabel taps her chin, deep in thought. Her eyes flicker over to great-uncle Ford who continues to stare at you in admiration. She snaps her fingers, putting her match-making skills to use once again, “What would you say is your type in a partner?”

“Mabel! What kinda question is that?” Dipper groans, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Wow, we’re getting to the real hard-hitting questions.” You say in amusement, slightly caught off guard but amused. You ponder the answer yourself, wondering if the kids would understand what you mean by this.

“Well, does your generation know what a silver fox is?” You ask with a sheepish grin and a flush to your cheeks, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your answer causes a chain reaction of different responses.

Mabel squeals with an eager nod, looking over hopefully at her Grunkle Ford.

Dipper and Stan both end up spitting out their milk and coffee respectively.

Ford sits at the table, blinking in confusion.

“What’s a silver fox? Is that a new type of species?”

After cleaning up the mess that Stan and Dipper had made, you finally start getting ready to head out with Ford to visit your old friend. You stand in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing your outfit before reaching to grab the hairbrush Mabel graciously lets you borrow after you realize that you had forgotten yours in the car.

Stan walks down the stairs, having changed out of his white tank-top and pajama pants into clothes more suitable for going out. He pauses at the open bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Hey, while you and Poindexter catch up with McGucket, I’m gonna swing into town later tonight to get you a replacement battery for your car.”

Placing the brush down, you address Stan, “You sure? I can always ask Ford if we could stop by the auto shop on the way back to pick it up.”

Stan scoffs, “Please, my brother’s smart and knows a ton about science-y stuff but he’s hopeless when it comes to cars. Besides, I know a guy, I’ll get you a discount.”

“Alright.. Just let me know how much I owe you, I’m for sure paying you back.” You say hesitantly as you make your way towards the door. Stan steps aside to let you through, “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively.

Technically, that guy was Bud Gleeful and that discount was five-fingered but you didn’t have to know that.

“You found your way around the Mystery Shack pretty easily, by the way. Didn’t even have to show you where the bathroom was, I sometimes have a hard time finding it and I’ve lived here for over 30 years.” Stan comments. You realize that even this morning, you walked directly to the kitchen, almost like your feet knew where to go through pure muscle memory.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Ford’s deep voice calls out, walking down the hallway to approach you and Stan.

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” You say, slightly nervous to see Fiddleford again. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he didn’t even remember you just like you couldn’t remember Ford?

Ford could see the furrow in your brow, a sign he had picked up through the years you had been together that you were overthinking. He hesitates for a second but places a hand on your arm, snapping you out of your rumination. “He’ll be elated to see you, Y/N. Though to give you a fair warning, he looks a lot different than how he did during our college days.” He says reassuringly.

You nod, smiling up at him, your nerves calmed down for now. “Thanks, Ford. I’m gonna go grab my bag and I’ll meet you outside.” You make your way back down the hallway, leaving the twins by themselves.

“Think she might already be starting to getting some of her memories back just by being here…” Stan muttered, following his brother outside. Ford’s eyebrow raises in confusion, “What makes you say that, Stanley?”

“She knows how to get around the house without even thinking about it. I know I gave her a tour but that was just the showroom and the gift shop.” Stan shares his observation, holding the door open for Ford as they step out into the front yard where Stan’s car is parked.

“Fascinating… maybe her memories may come back more organically than we had thought.” Ford muses before placing his hand out, “The keys, Stanley?”

Stan sighs, rummaging through his jacket before placing his keys in his brother’s hand, “You know I could have just driven you two up to the mansion but someone insisted I give you two alone time to bond.”

Ford squeezes the keys in his hand before smiling at his brother, “I should probably say thank you to Mabel then… and thanks Stanley for bringing her here.”

Stan punches his twin in the arm affectionately, “Whatever, I just better not see a scratch on El Diablo when you two get back.” Ford winces but grins, rubbing the spot on his arm.

Right on cue, you close the creaky door behind you, bag slung over your shoulder as you walk over to the pair, “Alright, I’m ready to go! Sorry, Mabel stopped me on the way out to ask my opinion on what sweater she should wear to the roller rink. Apparently, none of you guys have the taste to give her a valid opinion.” You chuckle.

“Roller rink? I swear these kids turn thirteen and think they can just go around without telling their Grunkle where they’re going.” Stan sighs in exasperation, calling out Mabel’s name as he walks back inside. You follow Ford to the car, sliding into the passenger side. “Sorry if my driving is a bit rusty, Stanley’s usually the one that drives us around when we’re in Oregon for the summer.” Ford apologizes in advance, pulling out of Mystery Shack and onto the open road.

“I mean as long we come out unscathed, I’m not complaining.” You say nonchalantly, taking in the sight of the massive trees that tower over the two way road in front of you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, neither one of you knowing how to spark conversation. There lingered an unspoken heaviness, mostly due in part the intensity of your exchange the previous night. Ford desperately wanted to talk to you and yet he was drawing a blank on what to even talk about.

As you make your way up the winding hills, Ford finally speaks up, deciding to ask you more about your work, “So you work for the National Parks? Are you a research scientist or did you go the natural resource conservation route?” He asks, remembering how you were torn between pursuing further research or honing in on your love of preserving nature.

“You’re pretty well-informed about the geoscience field. I just tell most people I look at rocks all day.” You admit, toying with the necklace that you had tucked into your shirt, “I started off in research but I realized that most of my time was spent in labs and studying specimens rather than actually out in the field. I love the parks so much, I was itching to get back out there so I switched to conservation.”

“Makes sense, just studying concepts and theories in a controlled environment isn’t nearly as fun as getting hands-on experience.” Ford chuckles. His eyes flick over to see your fingers rolling around the vibrant orange gemstone attached to your necklace, almost choking on his spit. Your eyes meet his and your eyebrow raises as Ford’s expression is like he’s seen a ghost.

“You okay? Do I have something on my face?” You question, pulling down the sun visor to check your appearance in the mirror. Ford shakes his head vigorously, clearing his throat, “No… I… do you remember where you got that necklace?”

You pause at his query, putting the sun visor back into its original position and glancing down at the sunstone that dangles from the simple gold chain. “Oh this? I honestly don’t remember, I’ve had it for quite some time. Why do you ask?”

Ford takes a deep breath before looking back onto the road, “I… well… gave it to you. We drove up here from Backupsmore to start my grant research. Along the way, we stopped near one of the parks and you found that piece of sunstone. You carried it around everywhere so one night, I took the time to fashion it into a necklace so you’d never lose it.”

There’s a pause before you speak. That pause felt like eternity to Ford.

“You know…I think you were in my dream last night...” You say, staring at the necklace with a newfound understanding. “I was back at Backupsmore and walking to the library. I ended up walking up to someone with their head buried in the books and I called out your name but I woke up after that.”

Ford was not expecting that response, looking over at you in alarm, “This may be a stretch but was there indication in your dream that it was fall?” You nod slowly.

“That was the first time we met. You were struggling with the section on seismic refractions in a physics course that I had taken a semester prior. Our professor recommended me as a tutor.” Ford recounts, his fingers gripping the wheel slightly tighter.

“Jeez… could all my dreams… just be memories?” You mutter to yourself but loud enough for Ford to hear it. “You’ve had other dreams….?” Ford questioned, his mind reeling with this discovery. “Yeah, I’ve had them for years. There’s always someone else in them… but before I can figure out or discern who it might be, my body wakes up.” You admit, rifling through your bag before pulling out a small leather bound journal.

“This is a bit embarrassing to admit but I’ve been keeping track of them here.” You say hesitantly as you hold up the leather bound journal. Ford stared between you and the journal in awe. He had always found preparation attractive and he thinks he may have fallen in love with you all over again.

“Perhaps we can go through some of them and see if it correlates to any memories I have.” Ford attempts to say with a steady voice but there’s a hint of excitement in his proposition. “I honestly would love that… I feel like I’ve been trying to crack the code of these dreams without any key.” You reply eagerly.

Ford makes the final turn up the hill, approaching the massive gates to what was formerly the Northwest Manor. Your eyes widen, staring at the impressive estate before you. You watch as Ford presses on the intercom, “Fiddleford, we’re here.” before the gates open to let you in.

“This.. is where Fiddleford lives? Did he make a breakthrough with his personal computers or something?” You question to which Ford chuckles nervously. “You could say that. Honestly, it’s quite a long story that we can talk about inside.” After parking the car in front of the fountain, Ford gets out of the car before opening the door for you.

You two make your way to the wooden front door, which bursts open soon after Ford raps his knuckles against it. You’re greeted by your friend, who looks considerably older despite being the same age as you and Stanford that you almost didn’t recognize him. Fiddleford embraces Ford first before stepping back to assess you. You gulp, anxiety filling up your system once again.

You’re quickly enveloped into a tight hug by Fiddleford, which you return. “My god, Fiddleford, it’s been too long. I thought you disappeared off the face of the Earth.” You said shakily. You two pull apart as Fiddleford grasps your arms, “Sweet sarsaparilla, look at you, Y/N! You make me and Ford look like old geezers! I’m real sorry I hadn’t reached out until now…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Fiddleford… I’m just glad we reconnected.” You say, a wave of nostalgia hitting you. “Come on in, you two! We got a lot of catching up to do!” Fiddleford says, ushering you into the massive home with his arm before closing the door.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x you #stanford x reader #ford pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #ford pines

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simonsrileyhusband · 2 months ago

Note

PLEEASSEE ELABORATR ON H<SBAND SIMON EHO APOLOGIZES EITH FLOEERS AND HIS DICK!!!!

hello i find your writing scrumptious btw i devour it everytime you post🥰🥰

nsfw

simon cant help it, he is stubborn and you are too, you are bound to have some petty arguments

but he always knows when he should apollogize and he always makes sure you forgive him

so he gets you flowers, a big bouquet nicely decorates, if you are way too angry he even buys your favorite treat in its biggest package or a plushy for your collection

either way, he would come home and nuzzle into your, the big gifts on your hands as he whisper pettily into your ear "im sorry" and "what i said was dumb, please forgive me" or "love, please, ill make it up to you"

and he cant help but feel needy, his hips starting to rut into you, throwing your gifts to the floor and pushing you into bed, kissing you so lovingly and ramming into you until you forget that you were mad at him

and kt works everytime, he makes sure that you are all fucked out and hazzy to think and he would say things like "i'm so good, mhm? fucked you so good you don't even know why you were mad" or "see, told you i would make it better... you just never listen to me"

#ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut

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hyuckswoman · 3 months ago

Text

“hey” jisung greets you putting his stuff next to yours “gotta pen for little old me?” he asks “dude how do you do it?” you respond making sure to pick the shittiest pen in your pencil case and handing it to him “do what?” “you never have your stuff this is crazy” “i don’t do it on purpose obviously” “really? seems to me like you do” you retort squinting at him. the prof enters the class greeting you guys while setting his stuff down “you think i’d purposely forget my pen just to use that shitty one of yours? i know you have nicer pen by the way, kind of petty of you actually”. oh, he noticed?

“I read some of the assignments and i can say that you guys absolutely suck. I know my class is hard but if you’re here it’s because you chose to be. I was reading the material and was completely baffled by some of the things you guys wrote. seriously. you call yourselves graduate students when my undergrads are ten times better than you. so, I decided to give you guys an extra assignment, this time next week you guys will make a presentation regarding the role of magnetic fields focusing on star formation and galactic evolution”

the whole class groans

“I don’t want to hear any of it. you guys should’ve performed better. none of my business, now let’s pick up where we left off”

“he’s insane. that’s like a proper thesis subject. how are we able to come up with any good presentation in that short time” you say to jisung. class had just been dismissed and you’re glad it was your last because you can already picture yourself crying over how much work you’ll have to face “i think i’m gonna half-ass it, you should too. he said it wasn’t graded why should I care” jisung responds reaching into his bag pulling out an umbrella to shield himself from the heavy downpour “helloooooo? have you met me??? since when do I half ass shit, i like physically can’t it hurts me to not care” “you are soooo dramatic, good luck trying to get that done in one week” “dude i can already feel the tears prickling” you sigh pulling up your hood “you know this isn’t waterproof right? you’re gonna get wet” “i am aware thank you.”jisung sighs. how stereotypically stubborn of you “here take my umbrella” he hands you it “what? no i don’t want your stinky shit” “you are so difficult oh my god” he says laughing forcefully prying your hand open and dropping the object. and before you could give it back he was already running away putting his hood up.

28. doomed

previous chapter masterlist next chapter

notes: sawrry for the uneventful chapter i promise im going somewhere with this… also as impersonal as it might seem how are you guys?? and im genuinely wondering how you guys are like PLEASE TELL ME via comments dms WTV I WANNA KNOWWWW!!!!!! lastly, i got accepted in my masters program so you guys r looking at a future finance graduate student…crazy

taglist: @kgyam4 @sunghoonsgfreal @injunnie-lemon @nctrawberries @222low @multifandomania @nemonemoz @starwonb1n @222brainrot @sinsgaybutthatsokay @defzcl @lostinneocity @junviadinho @mrsbyun-baek @skepvids @wonbin-truther @jkslvsnella @jising-jisang-jisung @nanaxwi @polarisjisung @amrqxz @jirsungs @haechansbbg @dalsosapple @pookime @pinklemonade34 @lotties-readings @roseangelxfuma @jiiieun @hrtleehan @mystverse @alethea-moon @stqrgr7 @nosungluv @dinonuguaegi @addyanm @kenmaswoman @okkkcausewhet @starfilledgaze @iseos1 @jovialdelusionbouquet @tywritesstuff @luffysprincess @pinkberryy15 @theandypark @keeryverse

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starburstminibot · 6 months ago

Note

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

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disruptivevoib · 1 year ago

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Long Ramble about CCCC and my overall feelings on what the album means and such

Something I find important about CCCC is like.

The fact that all three of them are, in some way, trying.

Heart is emotion, he is prone to himself and being reactionary, in the moment. Prone to the past of learned behavior and trauma. Reactive and rapidly changing. He isn't going to make pure sense because he isn't based in logic or in societal ideals or views. He is an instinctual response to the environment and circumstances. His manipulation is not intentional. He has very little control of himself in the end. Its why Mind talks about claiming to relish entropy yet clearly needing help. But, Heart in earnest wants them to be okay and safe. He believes that Mind's control will drain the life from them. It will make things monotonous and the same. Too much order.

Mind in turn, believes Heart is manipulative with intention. He wants to control Soul or wants to just drag them all down with him into this depressive state. Mind is logic, he is the reasoning out of your emotional instinct. Your inner critique, and when unchecked, that inner critique goes from a guiding hand for your emotion to one that debates and bullies it. Invalidating its responses. Ultimately, though. Mind just believes he is helping. He is doing what must be done and telling the "hard truths" to Heart. And that Heart is being the petty child. Which- I mean. Sort of sure. But Mind is definitely fucking petty and childish. He's stubborn! Prideful! So ofc he is. Admitting you're wrong? No.. why would he EVER do that.. nuh uh.

Which is what makes Light so crucial. Mind asking Heart for help- but also. There is Soul.

Who while ambiguous in purpose, is mostly that background voice. Your inner narration. If Mind is Logic and Reason then Heart is Emotion and Instinct,, Soul is all that lives between it. And he is constantly silenced or spoken over or around. He does not get a word in edgewise until TSE. He may show up in the background occasionally but as much as Heart and Mind claim to want to keep him alive and help him, they also fail to actually acknowledge what he says.

Which is that they both are right and wrong. That this fighting is doing directly what they both feared it would. Soul is desperate by the end. He is angry and resentful because.. well. Self hatred due to intense self awareness and reflection is rather ig. Common. Im not a professional here but from personal experience, you get so tired of rehashing the same shit with yourself over and over. It all feels pointless.

The only out, by the end of it all to Soul is that if they cannot be Whole, whats the point? He is desperate. He does not want to die but he feels theres no other solution.

And. About Whole, Soul throughout the album seems to want that. At the beginning, to be Whole or Harmonious is to be mentally healthy, maybe even "normal" by society's standards. To be able to put a mask over your problems and be, again, "normal". It takes the entire album for Soul to realize that this:

1. isnt possible

And

2. There isn't anything evil or wrong with him for that.

Mental health is a struggle. But you are not evil and should not be othered because you struggle. You also do not need to be fixed for being a little different and people's opinion of you is not what matters most so long as you are happy (and not hurting others. Lol).

Thats what Two Wuv is entirely about as a song. Its a "fuck you. Fuck this! I thought I needed to be this! But I DON'T. Stop telling me who I am! How to be! I'm gonna be me!"

His entire arc is parallel to Heart and Mind's and is crucial in the culmination of becoming yourself again and accepting yourself.

But, as mental health will always be, this period of respite and self acceptance is not always forever. And as life continues or as you lapse back into a depressive episode.. you cannot help but forget what it is like when you're not this way- and hell! Vice versa too! Some people have this disconnect between the periods. Where the things from the depressive state seem dramatic or obtuse to you while you are doing better. And from the other end, you just want to be happy again.. but you get so lost in it all you can struggle to feel like you've ever been happy.

The album is about the human experience. It is about self-sabotage, mental illness, self-hatred and reflection and it is, maybe more importantly about self-acceptance and healing. Having a bit of mercy on yourself. Accepting that you are imperfect and that this is okay. And whatever flaws you may have that need to be mended or worked on, can be. And that who you are, for example, if you are queer, is okay. And no one has the right to take that identity from you! That the internalized ideas of how someone should be are not always correct or right. Not for you, at least. Stuff like that.

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #voidthoughts #i know the album is interpretive!! but i also think it is crucial that we dont pin any one of them down as villains or anything #that like while hms are all flawed and cruel to one another they ultimately are also victims of themselves its #its the like culprit and victim motif #the “you're doing this to yourself and you shouldn't feel you have to do that”#internal communication with yourself. learning kindness and humility and whatnot is very important!!#thats all

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cantgetworsethanthistbh · 9 months ago

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tw: death

the stancest experience is loving stanley pines but willing to put him through the blender to make ford suffer in guilt

what im saying is i hope he dies first, suddenly and quickly, and ford will spend roughly at least a decade mourning the fact he lost so much time with stanley because of his petty grudges and mistakes and drowning in despair he just doesnt have stan anymore. so many more adventures they had planned is nothing but a useless checklist, their boat is too damn big without one other person, and if ford hadnt been so stubborn, they could have had so many more memories in each other arms than seperated.

but they cant because stans gone. suddenly ford is the one who's waiting to see his brother again and he's not prepared for the agony that ensures, but some part of him knows he deserves it, its a fraction of what stan has had to go through with him

#stancest #i love some good angst #i also generally love the idea that ford will go back in time after stan dies to before when he got the west cost tech offer #and insert himself in stans life just to squeeze a little more time with him #2fords stuff is always peak to me

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snail-day · 4 months ago

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omg thank you for getting back to my previous ask about male childhood friend! i love how manipulative you right geto its so interesting to read. just another thought unrelated to the previous ask, what would jjk characters be like with a reader who is a lot more assertive and not so obedient? like a reader who's actually headstrong and tries to call them out on their shit. hope this inspires you and sorry if im asking too much!

Anon, my sweet sugarplum, you are not asking for too much! I never delete asks (except the mean ones - don’t tease me and then just leave me hanging, that’s rude. At least finish the job). Honestly, I love when people send in thoughts because you all bring such different perspectives! And if I’m not feeling an idea now, I just tuck it away for later. Trust me, I’ll get back to it! (I will stare at some of them for a good hour)

Anyways!

Gojo would one thousand percent adore a more assertive reader. This man is made for that dynamic. He’s a masochist at heart, challenge him, push back, give him attitude, and he’s eating it up. He’s the type to grin ear to ear when you snap at him, acting all smug just to rile you up even more. If you’re rough around the edges, maybe a little tsundere, he’s begging for your attention like an overgrown puppy. Pinch his cheeks? He’ll nuzzle into your hand. Shove him away? Oh, so you do like playing hard to get. Call him out on his bullshit? He’ll just pout dramatically, draping himself over you like dead weight. "Aww, you're so mean to me, baby~ but please, keep going~" You’re not getting rid of him - ever.

Geto... oh, he’s tricky. He likes someone who knows what they want. Confidence is attractive. But what he doesn’t like? You being able to get what you want without his interference. If you’re independent, self-sufficient, and completely resistant to his control, well, that’s a problem. He’s willing to allow you some assertiveness, so long as it doesn’t threaten his hold on you. If you lean on him even a little, you’re safe - for now. But if you push back too hard, if you dare argue about, say, why you’ve been kidnapped or why you need to be kept away from the world... oh, sweetheart. He’s going to fix that. Slowly, methodically, breaking down those walls one by one. Until suddenly, your confidence feels like defiance, your strength feels like misplaced stubbornness, and you’re crawling into his lap, pressing desperate kisses to his cheek, murmuring sweet apologies before he forces you into a nap session for being so cranky. He has the right tool to fix that attitude of yours after all.

Nanami, he’s a tough one. Disciplined, composed, and definitely not the type to engage in petty arguments. If you challenge him, push back against his protectiveness, call him out on his control? He won’t snap. He won’t raise his voice. He won’t even argue. He’ll simply… double down. You think you’re strong-willed? So is he. But the difference? He has patience on his side. You can fight, resist, argue all you want, but at the end of the day, he knows what’s best for you. And he’ll make sure you see that. Not through manipulation, not through threats, but through something far more insidious - kindness.

Because tell me - how do you push back against someone who only ever helps you? Someone who never forces, only guides? He makes things easy. Too easy. A little inconvenience? He’s already solved it. Need help? He’s already there. And before you even realize it, you start relying on him more and more. Your assertiveness starts feeling… unnecessary.

Sukuna...well he just eats you if you fight back. Easy.

#snail yaps #I do have more for sukuna but like...he's hard to see romantically #in like a yandere aspect #forehead smoochies for anon

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gay-wh0re-slut · 1 year ago

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rhea smut where rhea and reader get into a petty argument (that's not even serious they're both just stubborn) and they decide instead of arguing they take their anger/tension out on eachother by fucking? (this is really just an excuse for bottom rhea again...)

omg yes i can bc im a stubborn ass bitch too hahahaha

(((also sorry this has taken me so long to do but thank you for the request <3)))

Bath Time

rhea x fem!reader

content: rhea flashes her big blue eyes… oh SHES GETTING IT and by getting it i mean fingering, oral, slight edging, hot sexy times

You hear the front door open, footsteps and two sets paws clacking on the hard wood floor, door closing and locking back. Sitting on the kitchen counter eating some cereal, Rhea finally comes into view, unhooking Barry and Luna from their leashes.

“Oh,” she said a little shocked, “good morning!”

“Morning, love,” you kicked your feet slightly. “How was the walk?”

“The weather was so nice, but because of the rain last night there were…some puddles,” she pointed at Barry.

You look to the terrier and see that his paws and legs were covered with dirt. Your mouth dropped but quickly closed once you looked at Luna, she was completely dry, typical.

“I tried to wipe him off as best I could before we came in but he just thought I was playing with him,” her big shoulders shrugged.

“Of course,” you giggled, “well it is your turn to give him a bath.”

It took her a second to process what you said as she was putting the leashes on the hooks by the garage door, “w-what?”

“I did it last time he got all gross, so it’s your turn,” you repeated.

“No no no no, I specifically remember him splashing the hell outta me because I had to take an extra long time getting the mud off of him from the last time it poured down and we let him out the back,” she walked towards you with her hands on her hips. Her booty shorts, big tshirt and little messy bun weren’t helping her look scary.

You took your last bite and put the bowl in the sink, “no that was the time before mine because I have snapchat memory proof of the last time he took a bath because I did it. He was doing surprisingly well so I decided to take a bubble picture, remember?”

She thought for a split second, “no, that was before the fiasco happened when I was doing it. I had to pee so bad that I asked you to watch him and then he got too excited to see me again that he jumped in the water!”

You could tell she was getting a little frustrated but you knew you were right. “Yes, I remember that, but I gave him a bath when you were at a show. I posted it on my instagram stories too, Dom even said ‘wow he’s acting right for once!’ So I for sure did it last time, so it’s definitely your turn,” you crossed your arms in satisfaction, thinking you finally won.

She bowed her head and squeezed the bridge of her nose, “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it’s true,” you leaned your hands on the counter, kicking your feet again as you leaned into her gaze, hoping that she would give in anyway, even though you were definitely correct.

She finally looked at you, “don’t look at me like that,” she huffed.

You bit your lip ever so slightly, “like what? I’m not doing anything!” You knew exactly what you were doing.

She sighed as she looked at the ceiling. You knew it was hard for her to get mad at you because you never did anything wrong in her eyes. She looked back down at you and finally pushed her way between your legs, “baby,” she said in her gravelly voice.

“Noooo, don’t do that,” you stopped her almost immediately.

“Baby,” her hands grazed along your outer thighs as she looked up at you, “please, I’ll do… the dishes for the week or take out the trash or-”

“Stop it,” it was hard to tell her no because of the overwhelming power she had over you but you couldn’t let her win this time, “you know I’m right or you wouldn’t be doing this,” you avoided eye contact because if you did look at her eyes, it would be over.

“Oh c’mon,” her tattooed hands slowly moved up your torso under your shirt, “we can take a shower after.”

Still refusing to look at her, “I can take a shower by myself, thank you.”

“But it would be so much better if I was with you,” her nails were gently scratching at your back sending chills down your spine, “c’mon,” she whispered, “look at me.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling dramatically with a big sigh, “no, because this happens every time, but I’m winning this one,” you huffed.

She left soft kisses on your arms, but you pulled away, only after letting her get a few in.

“You know it’s your turn or you wouldn’t be acting this way and you know it!”

Her soft growl came through, “why won’t you look at me?” completely ignoring what you have been saying.

“I can’t, Rhea,” you said annoyed, “and you know that.”

She let that sit in the air for a minute thinking of what to say next. Though you weren’t looking at her directly you could tell that she was seething and it made you feel satisfied. Even though it was a little toxic, you loved when she got upset because that either meant that she put you in your place or you got your way. You didn’t let this happen often though because then you knew that would be too much, but when it did, it was so fun.

Tricking you, one of her hands gently slid out from under your shirt and glided up your chest, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck, but then the mood quickly changed when she flung her hand around grabbed your face forcefully, pulling your head down to finally look at her.

“Let’s make a deal,” her eyes flashed dark, staring into yours.

Your heart pounded as she pulled you closer, unfolding your arms to brace yourself on the counter. You were about to speak but she started again.

“Whoever…finishes first, has to give him a bath,” an evil grin grew on her face.

“And what does that mean?” you asked knowing exactly what that meant.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” her grip tightened slightly.

You pulled your head out of her grip by grabbing her wrist and squeezing it, causing her to loosen her fingers. You yanked her closer to you looking down at her, which you never got to do because she was a bit taller than you, and gave her an evil grin back, “You can’t even last a second under me.”

Her facial expression changed immediately when you pulled her closer to you, scared but intrigued. Her eyes widened at your dig, but quickly changed back to sinful, “I could say the same about you, princess,” she gave you a wicked grin as she yanked back her arm.

“I’d like to see you try,” you growled.

She took a deep breath, glaring back at you. In what seemed like half of a second, she pulled your hips towards her and picked you up off the counter. She flung you over her shoulder, fireman style, and carried you to the bedroom. You gently writhed and kicked as she walked through the house but she smacked your ass to calm you down…it didn’t help.

Once inside the room she closed the door to keep the dogs out, then turned around and slammed you on the bed. It literally took your breath away but you didn’t care. She ripped her shirt off and threw into oblivion as she crawled on top of you, immediately starting to kiss over your body. You loved when she touched you no matter what kind, but you knew you couldn’t let this go on for long.

So you let her go for a minute longer, letting her think that the small moans and sighs were a sign of you losing the bet. Taking a deep breath and gathering all your strength, you pushed her to the side of you and climbed on top of her. Blue eyes widened at the sudden change. “Don’t think you’re winning this one, Ripley,” you knew she could never back down from a challenge.

“Wanna bet?” she said right before flipping you back over to the first position.

You grunted in disappointment because obviously she was stronger than you. She went back to leaving a trail of gentle kisses on your exposed skin as her hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up slowly, teasing you.

It was working, and you hated it. You were going to win. But…you also loved it so you reveled in it for a little while, letting her cherish you before you ultimately took over. She carefully pulled your arms causing you to sit up, then quickly took your shirt off throwing it into the same oblivion. Landing one of her hands on your now bare shoulder as the other gripped your hair, pulling your head to one side exposing your neck. You swore you saw her eyes turn red as she dove into you, nipping and sucking at your skin.

Gentle moans and whimpers asking for more fell out of you with ease. The hand on your shoulder moved down to your breast, tightly squeezing it before moving to your chest to push you back down with a little force. You huffed as you landed, looking up at her. Her strong tattooed legs straddling your hips, her chest heaving quickly as she looked over you as if she was going to eat you alive. She raked a hand through her hair, licking her teeth. An evil smile grew on her face, you could’ve folded right then but you didn’t, you can’t let her win.

“You look so…helpless,” she whispered almost laughing.

Your brow furrowed at her as your eyes squinted in fake anger, knowing she didn’t actually mean it, she just wanted to get a rise out of you. She did this often when she wanted you to fight back. And you loved it.

“Aw, did that hit a nerve?”

“Never,” you said but caught her by surprise as you hooked a leg around the front of her torso and pushed her back as you sat up copying her pose above her. She looked genuinely shocked that you could do that.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” her voice was shaky. You got her.

“Watching you,” you said nonchalantly. Finally you were in charge, but surprisingly, she didn’t stop you.

You genuinely didn’t think you would get this far though you had all that confidence, so you hesitated for a second before you decided on what to do next. You cupped her face, gently caressing it with your thumb which led to you gliding it over her lips. She voluntarily opened her mouth, giving you the idea to put it in, “close,” was all you needed to say and she followed orders. Her tongue swirled over your finger with her piercing clinking on your nail, followed by her giving it a good suck. Finally letting her go, she opened her mouth letting it fall out gently sliding off of her tongue.

Wiping your thumb in the process, you traced your hand down the center of her chest. Once it reached her tight sports bra, you caressed one of her breasts, toying with her piercing underneath. Now both hands were tugging at the elastic trying to get it off.

“Oh please,” she huffed as she sat up and took it off for you throwing it to the other clothing, “better?” as she laid back down.

“Someone’s eager to lose,” you cooed.

“Watch your mouth, princess. I’m just letting you get some licks in before I take over,” she rolled her eyes.

“As if you don’t like when I’m on top,” you squinted.

“Shut up,” was all she could say. You knew you were right, as much as she liked being the dominant one, she loved being taken care of once in a while.

You rolled your eyes in response as you dive down to her chest. You began leaving sloppy kisses all over her now bare skin. You traced your tongue up her chest to her neck, ending at her ear. You gave it a small bite, “now look who’s helpless,” you whispered. You gave a good bite on her neck causing her to whine loudly, grabbing at your hips for support.

You chuckled at her response. Going down once more, leaving a trail of kisses, nips and bites, you shimmied your hips further down her legs as you went. Listening to her small but deep moans could send you over the edge easily but you didn’t dare to venture that far.

As you snuck your way down her toned torso, you grabbed the waistband of her black booty shorts and dragged them down with you. She voluntarily lifted her hips letting you pull them off of her. You struggled a bit because of how tight they were but she didn’t seem to mind too much.

You hummed at the sight of her, “you’re so pretty.” The pace so far was intense and fast but as soon as those shorts hit the floor and you saw her sprawled in front of you, a switch went off in your hand to slow things down.

“You’d look prettier with your face between my legs,” she blurted out above you. Shocked at what she said but also a little pleased.

“Oh so eager,” you caressed your hands up her tattooed thighs slowly. Taking your sweet time, sometimes dragging your nails on her skin just to watch the goosebumps form. You got very close to her center more than a few times but didn’t want to give her that satisfaction just yet. You took one last trip around the skin of her legs before forcing them open. You situated yourself on your knees between her strong legs that could choke you out at any second, but that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, you thought.

“Please do something before I take over. You’re not gonna win at this pace,” she scoffed out of fake boredom.

“So you know I’m right!”

“N-no, that’s not what I said, I sai-”

“No I heard you, don’t worry though, I’m still gonna win no matter what,” you giggled as you finally dove down to pick up the pace again. Without any warm up or the chance for her to give you a snarky comment in response you swiped your tongue up her center.

“Fuck!” her back arched for a split second.

You let out a soft chuckle. Repositioning yourself on your stomach and slinking your arms under her beefy thighs for leverage, you continued to lap at her core. Her hands for their way to your head gripping at your hair. “You should really let me do this more often,” you kissed her thigh looking up at her writhing. The sight of her was so pleasing.

“Shut up!” she snarled but you loved it. She pushed you further into her, wanting more.

You were surprised that she was helping you win because you both knew this was a game but deep down, you knew how to play it better than her. You’ve studied for this, worked your way around her likes and dislikes. You wanted- no, needed to win just to prove that you were right.

As you were lapping her up and thinking of all the ways to get her to finish quicker, she suddenly yanked your hair up forcing you to crawl on top of her, “Ooww! What’re you doing?” you winced.

“Not letting you win,” she breathed before slamming her lips against yours to prevent you from talking back. Of course you easily fell into it. Unfortunately, she took the opportunity and whipped you back around onto the bed as she hopped on top of you. She pinned your arms above your head with one hand as she grazed the other hand up your stomach, between your breasts, finally locking it in place on your neck. “You know I’m going to win, so why don’t you just give up now, princess? Make it easier for both of us,” her eyes twinkled.

You huffed at her knowing that the pet name always got to you, “bite me.”

She was mad for a split second before her expression turned wicked, “whatever you say,” as she dove down to your neck and began to sink her teeth into you.

“Shit,” you whined as you tried to release yourself from her godly grip. You loved it too much, you needed her to stop but also… you didn’t.

She continued to nip and bite where she pleased until she was satisfied, “oops,” she said slyly looking at the marks she left.

She finally let go of your hands but didn’t let go of your throat. One of your hands found her wrist while the other landed on her thigh that was keeping you down. You tried to wriggle your way out from under her but she refused. Her free hand snuck its way under your waist band, teasing as if she would go farther as if she forgot about the game.

“You’re not gonna win at this rate,” you copied her from earlier.

“Don’t,” she tightened her grip on your neck, “mock me, babygirl. I’m just getting started,” she chuckled as she finally released your throat. She gave you an evil grin before she shuffled off of you and almost actually ripped your booty shorts and underwear off of you.

You bounced on the bed from the force, “damn!”

“Chill,” she huffed jokingly. Without hesitation she immediately shoved her hand between your thighs and began to circle your clit and hard.

You arched your back in response slamming your fists on the bed, “damn!” You said in a more needy tone than before. Whimpers fell out of you with ease, it was so hard for you to hold them back.

She continued her motion while diving onto your nipple with her skilled mouth, sucking and twirling her tongue just right. Your hands tangled themselves in her hair. Unfortunately, with this fast pace and extra stimulation, you’ve never been closer to finishing this fast before. As much as it pained you, you pushed her head away and sat up to face her. Her hand below stopped its motion.

“What? What’s wrong?!” she looked genuinely concerned.

“I can’t let you win,” as you pushed her down onto her back so that now your heads were at the foot of the bed.

“So I was close to winning,” she exclaimed

“Barely,” you lied. You crawled back down her tan body hoping to continue what you started before, and surprisingly she let you.

But this time you amped it up. As your tongue flicked about her center, with her writhing above you, you easily slipped your middle finger inside of her. A loud moan filled the room, satisfying you. You smiled into her core as you gently began to pump your finger in and out of her. Slowly increasing your pace as time went on, your tongue working its magic and her moans filling the room louder and louder, you knew she wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

Surprisingly, she didn’t stop you this time. You finalized your pace and kept it steady, swirling your tongue on her clit, you couldn’t wait to win.

“GOD… FUCK!” She screamed as she arched her back so hard she almost levitated off the bed. Her muscles were clenching around your finger, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head…you won.

You continued your motions until she finally came down from her high. You slowly removed your hand from her as you took one last long lick to clean her up. She shivered pulling your head up from below. You made eye contact with her as you sucked your finger clean, crawling back on top of her. You sat your happy self down on her hips watching her chest rise and fall, letting her catch her breath.

“I win,” you snarled with a wicked grin.

“Best two out of three,” she breathed.

You thought for a minute, “Bring it.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #i’m so sorry this took so fucking long please don’t hate me please #i thought this was a fun idea so i had to do it

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cinnaleaf · 6 months ago

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ESSENCE OF US - CH 16: TIME WILL TELL

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 15 | MASTERLIST | CH 17 (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: angst, fluff, language, therapy representation, mentions of mental health, scenes inspired by serendipity the movie, writer/reader inside joke wc: ~11.9k (sorry) 💌: idk how slot got in here but im rocking with it song inspo: The Sun x KYLE ft. Bryson Tiller & Raphael Saadiq

The first year after your break up with Trent went just how you would expect it to go – terribly.

It felt like trying to unspool a stubborn thread that wouldn’t come undone. The breakup coupled with Les Notes d’Amour no longer existing due to sabotage and betrayal left you feeling emptier than ever. You spent weeks replaying the sequence of events trying to pinpoint the exact moment your dreams turned into ash. Ember was nothing more than a pawn for Aaron’s game. She became a vehicle for him to drive his petty vendetta into the heart of your life. Her misguided attempts at gaining his approval quickly backfired and left her a jobless criminal.

Tara on the other hand, was nothing more than a girl who loved a gossiping yap session, though she was more careless than malicious. None of it mattered anymore though. You already lost everything, including the one person who may have been able to help you navigate it all. You figured it would be easier to cut ties in order to protect him from the wreckage you became.

The tears came first – there were enough of them that you were genuinely surprised you were somehow still hydrated. They started off as silent tears that soaked into the plush folds of your pillow at night, but then they turned into loud ones that made your chest heave in the shower when no one else was around. You thought the tears would stop as time went on, but they never really did. Instead, they settled into an ache that you became used to.

The first few months of the year were spent in bed, trapped between the walls of your apartment while the rest of the world passed by. Your days blurred together into one endless loop of doom scrolling, ignoring calls, and deleting messages. Trent’s messages came frequently at first. He went back to the simple texts he used to send when you first started dating, but each notification alert struck you like lightning.

I miss you.

Talk to me Y/N. Please.

I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.

I love you. I always will.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open any of them, or even read the previews for long. If you let the words sink in for too long, you knew you’d let the warm cadence of his voice play in your head…and you knew you would cave. You couldn’t afford to cave.

So you blocked him – his number, social media, email, everything.

You thought that would be the end of it, but then an account by the name of ‘scentimental’ followed you. You wanted to relock your account after your break up but never got around to it. The instagram follow made you take a second glance, almost as if your intuition knew something you couldn’t quite place just yet. You weren’t in the mood to entertain any random accounts, but you tapped on the profile anyway. It had one post featuring a blurry picture of a perfume bottle on a window sill with a caption:

Some things don’t fade, no matter how hard you try.

You stared at it for a long time as your finger hovered over the profile. The bio was empty, the follower list was suspiciously small, and the account only followed you and a few random fan accounts. You immediately received a DM, sensing that same magnetic feeling you always felt with Trent. That feeling was something you missed, so you opened the DM, chasing the feeling one last time.

Hey, Y/N. Love your work! I saw something that reminded me of you the other day. You’ve been really quiet lately. Wondered if you were still out there making the world smell better?

The messages were vague, but not vague enough for you not to peep what was going on based on the phrasing and timing. This wasn’t a random account at all; it was Trent’s burner account. You stared at the messages for a while, hovering your finger over the block button.

“Seriously?” you muttered while shaking your head. He couldn’t possibly believe you wouldn’t notice, the man wasn’t subtle at all. He could have at least followed a few more accounts and pretended a little better, but it was clear he would do anything to get even a small snippet into your life now that you had locked him out. You let out a deep sigh, pressing the block button without bothering to send a reply as you tossed your phone on the bed.

As more months went by, the twins had become your lifeline to the outside world. Ezzie made it her personal mission to pull you out of the pit you sunk into. One day, she showed up with her hands full of groceries as the sound of the door opening broke through the silence of your apartment. She didn’t bother knocking anymore because she knew you wouldn’t answer.

The soles of her trainers stamped against the hardwood floors as she cut through the silence with her voice. “You should really start locking the door properly. What if it wasn’t me? What if I was some random person here to steal all your stuff and murder you?”

Your body was buried underneath a weighted blanket and you didn’t bother looking up. “They would be doing me a favor honestly. I don’t care anymore.”

Ezzie set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a huff, scrunching her face up in frustration. “You’re really dramatic. Just lock the door, okay?” You let out an irritated sigh as she started unpacking groceries filled with ready meals, snacks, and fresh fruit. She knew you probably wouldn’t eat any of it, but she bought it anyway – every week.

“You really shouldn’t spend your money on me” you mumbled as your voice muffled through the thick layers of the weighted blanket you were huddled under.

“I shouldn’t have to, but here we are. Someone has to take care of you if you won’t.” She rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter while crossing her arms. “I should charge you an inconvenience fee. Do you know how hard it is to carry all of this every week? I hate manual labor.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed home then.” you shot back very weakly.

“And let you rot in here?” she quipped. “No way. Ziggy would’ve sent me up here anyway. He’s downstairs by the way. He didn’t want to deal with your sulking today.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re literally sulking right now.” She motioned toward you huddled underneath the blanket, toying with the remote because the episode of Grey’s Anatomy you were watching had just ended in Derek’s death. That episode usually made you cry, but all you could do this time was shake your head and change the show to something else just as equally depressing.

“Before you tell me to leave, I’m not. I don’t want to hear your ‘woe is me’ speech. I brought snacks and I’m staying until you eat something that’s not depression air.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her like you were seeing daylight for the first time in weeks. “I don’t need you to babysit me, E.”

“Umm. Clearly, you do.” She walked over to the couch, plopping down next to you. “You’re acting like life ended when Love Notes burned down. I get it was really bad and you’re torn up about it, but you’re still alive Y/N. You have people that care about you. You can’t just give up like this.” Your sister’s voice softened at the end. She wouldn’t say it outright, but this was a lot worse than last time and your behaviour scared her.

“You don’t get it” you muttered, pulling the blanket back over your head.

“No. I definitely don’t” she admitted frustratingly. “You can’t keep hiding from the world. It’s not a healthy way to cope.”

You sighed and pushed the blanket off as you sat up. “What do you want me to do then, Ezzie? Pretend everything is fine when it’s not? My career is gone, my shop is gone. Trent’s gone. Everything I’ve ever cared about is just...gone.”

Ezzie frowned. “Trent is not gone. You pushed him away.. there’s a difference. Love Notes may be gone, but that doesn’t mean your career is. You’re acting like this is the end of your story when it’s not. You can still keep going and rebuild something.”

“No. I don’t want to rebuild.” you snapped as your voice cracked. “I’m tired. I’m really so fucking tired.”

Ezzie pouted her lip and reached out to give you a hug. “But you can’t stay here forever. I won’t let you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall and Ziggy appeared in the doorway with an unreadable expression. “Can I come in or is this intervention for girls only?” he asked dryly.

Ezzie rolled her eyes. “Come in. Maybe you can knock some sense into her.”

Ziggy walked over and dropped a bag in front of you. “Brought some food,” he said casually. “I thought maybe you would eat it if it was something you like.”

You looked at the bag, shaking your head as your stomach knotted. “I’m not hungry but thank you.”

Ziggy gave a disapproving look but didn’t push it. He sat on the floor next to the couch, sprawling his long legs out in front of him. It seemed like he had the growth spurt of a lifetime as soon as he started academy. He took his hoodie off, revealing the Liverpool emblem stitched on the corner. You froze as you eyed the crest – it sent a pang straight through your heart. You looked away, pretending to adjust your blanket, but in reality, you wanted to cry. You hated that something so simple made you feel this way, but it did.

Ziggy was on his phone, rapidly tapping his fingers to fill in the awkward silence. “You know…” he started casually, not looking up. “Trent asks about you.”

His name made you stiffen instantly as your hands clenched the blanket. “Ziggy..”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t just bring up the person’s name you were desperately trying to avoid. “Just saying he’s concerned. He’s not doing so well either.”

“Ziggy. Stop.” Ezzie said, leaning over to grab his hoodie. She flipped it over so that the emblem was hidden, then she shot him a death glare. “Don’t bring him up right now.”

“I’m not bringing him up” Ziggy voiced defensively. “I’m just saying he cares. He asks how she’s doing every time I see him. That’s all.”

You exhaled, feeling extremely guilty about how you ended things with Trent. “You don’t have to tell him anything. He’ll get over it eventually.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s really persistent. I don’t think he’s doing it to be annoying. He just really –”

“Isaac.” Ezzie cut in, so irritated that she used his legal name. “Let. It. Go.”

He sighed, scratching his head. “Okay! Damn. I’ll drop it.”

The room went silent aside from the chatter coming from the tv and the sound of Ezzie unloading groceries in the kitchen. Ziggy picked at a loose thread on his joggers as he glanced up at you before quickly looking away. “It’s hard to see you like this Y/N. You don’t even leave from here.”

“I do leave. Sometimes.” you retorted.

Ziggy arched his brow, not buying your statement at all. “When? When do you leave? Because you’ve been in the same spot every time I come over here. And I’m here a lot.”

You slumped further into the couch, rolling your eyes. “I go places. I don’t need to announce when I go somewhere. I’m not a child.”

“Yeah? Where did you go last?” he challenged, putting his phone back in his pocket.

You opened your mouth, but the brain fog had gotten to you so bad that you couldn’t think of something plausible quick enough. “The shop down the street” you muttered, not sounding convincing at all.

Ezzie popped her head out from the kitchen with a box of cereal in her hand. “She’s lying. I have her location on and the little circle never moves from here. She doesn’t even check for mail.... I do.”

You let out an irked sigh. “Okay. I don’t leave that often. Happy now?”

“No.” Ziggy replied flatly. He gestured toward the untouched takeaway bag. “And you don’t eat either. Y/N you look...bad. Like a sad Victorian child. You need to eat something.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You glared at him, taking all offense.

Ezzie walked over setting water in front of you. “He’s trying to say we’re worried about you...but in his own way.” she said gently, pointing toward the takeaway. “Maybe just take a bite? At least try it…”

You stared at the bag. You wanted to eat, but your brain wasn’t connecting to any of your hunger or thirst receptors and you just felt numb the majority of the time. The thought of eating anything besides crisps here and there made your stomach churn.

“I’m not hungry.” you repeated the same as earlier.

Ziggy threw his head back, groaning dramatically. “Y/N come on. We’re not leaving until you eat something. I got pad thai.”

You sighed, pulling the bag towards you. The smell of the food was comforting, although you still weren’t all that hungry. You grabbed the container of pad thai and pulled the lid off. Ziggy and Ezzie eyed each other as you took a bite, doing the twin telepathy thing they always did since they were little.

“See? Not so bad, right?” They spoke in unison eerily.

Them speaking in unison always freaked you out a bit and you found yourself frowning while lazily chewing a mouthful of noodles. “It’s really creepy when you both do that...but the pad thai is fine. Thanks.”

After an unplanned but filling dinner, Ziggy tilted his head, watching you carefully as you wrapped your blanket around yourself again. “What’s your game plan?”

“My game plan for what?”

“To get better,” he said simply. “You can’t stay like this.”

You recently scheduled an appointment for a therapy session, but no one else knew besides Camille. You fidgeted with the edge of your blanket and sighed, finally admitting you were at least trying to be better. “I have an appointment with a therapist in a few weeks.”

Ezzie’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?!”

Ziggy looked skeptical and eyed you to see if you were telling the truth. “Forreal? You’re actually gonna go?”

You glanced between the two of them. They were 17 now, and the tables had flipped. Instead of you trying to take care of them – they were taking care of you like you were their kid, and it made your heart hurt. It wasn’t fair to them and you knew it.

“Yes Ziggy.” you replied in annoyance. “It’s just one session so don’t get too excited. But I’ll see where it goes.”

“That’s just the first step,” Ezzie smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with his twin but he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, same. Just don’t cancel. Gotta see it through.”

You sighed, scrolling through your phone while cuddled into your blanket. “I’m not going to cancel. Promise.”

The day of your appointment, Camille’s car glided through morning traffic while soft R&B played in the background.

“Nervous?” she asked, glancing over at you from behind her Loewe sunglasses. You were staring out the window, nibbling on your fingernails as the buildings blurred past you.

“No. Not really.” you lied, feeling your stomach knot together.

Camille knew you better than that and was skeptical, but not pushy. “Dr. Ali is good...like really good. She won’t sit there and make vague comments like ‘How does that make you feel?’ She’ll push you but not in a break you down type of way. She’ll build you up with what’s already there.”

You arched your brow up, pulling your gaze from the window. “How do you know so much about her?”

Camille smirked. “I do my research, babe. Never underestimate my sleuthing skills. You think I’d let my bestie walk into a dodgy therapist’s office? Not a chance. Dr. Ali went to Harvard, has years of experience and will probably be able to read you with just one look.”

“That sounds terrifying actually.”

“She’s not terrifying” Camille replied, making a sharp turn that made your body tilt a little. “She’s just real. You honestly need someone like that. I can only do so much. Just let her help you..even if it’s just to unload.”

You felt a pang in your chest and tugged at the hem of your jumper. “Maybe..”

The car pulled into a building with glass windows that reflected against the bright morning sun. Camille turned off the car and turned to you. “I’ll wait here. If you go in and decide you hate it, that’s fine. But at least try first.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you stepped out the car with your emotional support water bottle, clutching it in your hand as you entered the building.

The waiting area was pretty minimalist and didn’t have anything that was overstimulating. There were a few plants scattered around to add greenery to the muted calming space. You checked in at the desk and sat down, fidgeting in the chair as you waited for your name to be called.

“Y/N?” a soft voice called out.

You looked up and saw a woman who looked like she was in her early 40s standing at the door. She had warm brown skin, curly medium length hair and wore trousers paired with a tailored blazer. You were imagining some old, decrepit lady, but this woman seemed very approachable from the start.

“I’m Dr. Ali” she said with a welcoming smile. “Come on in.”

You followed her into her office, which was just as inviting and warm as the waiting room. Her office had a large window that let in natural lighting, shelves lined with trinkets and books, and plush seating that could make anyone feel comfortable. As you sat down, she settled in the chair across from you.

“So, Y/N. Tell me what brings you here today.”

You didn’t know where to begin as you searched for an answer. “Umm....I guess....everything?” you said in a weak voice.

Dr. Ali nodded. “That’s okay. We can take it one piece at a time. Start with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You sighed, taking a drink of water from your water bottle, though you weren’t really thirsty. You were carrying the water bottle around more as a coping mechanism than anything. “I really don’t know where to start. My relationship ended, my career went up in flames..literally. And my family…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Everything just feels fucked up and broken.”

Dr. Ali’s expression didn’t change, but she eyed you with calmness in her eyes. “Sounds like a lot of loss,” she said gently. “What was your relationship like?”

“Good. Really good for the most part, actually. His name is Trent. He’s a footballer. You’ve probably heard of him before.”

She didn’t confirm or deny, instead gesturing for you to continue.

“He’s amazing,” you admitted quietly. “He was always supportive and everything I wanted a boyfriend to be. But being with him meant attention. People started lots of rumours and just spewed utter nonsense. And when my shop burned down because of someone I thought I could trust…it felt like too much. It felt like I would just be dragging him into my mess.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward, keeping a curious but non judgemental tone. “So you let him go to protect him?”

You nodded, staring at your hands. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time. But now I really don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore, honestly. I feel really lost.”

“What about your family? You mentioned them earlier.”

You laughed dryly, no humour laced within. “Well that’s super complicated” you muttered. “My parents are more focused on appearances than the people behind them. They only care about me being the perfect daughter so they can parade me around for their own gain. They don’t really know me. They don’t even know my favorite color and it’s right in front of their face.”

Dr. Ali tilted her head with a calming expression that invited you to continue. “That’s a heavy burden to carry. Do you think that influenced how you approach things in life?”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat as you swallowed. “It’s not just me though. My brother and sister feel it too. They’re twins..only 17 but my parents are the same with them. They pretty much treat us like trophies waiting to be displayed. And I have to make sure they don’t end up like me.”

Dr. Ali quickly wrote something down before she spoke again. “So you feel responsible for protecting them too?”

“I’ve been responsible for them since they were born” Your voice cracked. “My parents cared more about grades and achievement. The love and support was all on me. I helped them with their homework and packed their lunches most times. Sometimes it feels like I’m more of a parent than a big sister.”

The therapist kept her eye on you and the silence encouraged you to open up more. This woman was good as hell and you had barely been in there for 10 minutes.

“Now it’s like the roles are flipped” you continued, fiddling with the opening of your water bottle. “Since my shop burned down they’ve been taking care of me. Ziggy brings me food and makes sure I haven’t died off somewhere. Ezzie tries to get me out of bed or make me laugh. It’s like they took everything I taught them and turned it back on me.”

“That sounds like a testament to how much you mean to them. But I can see how it feels strange to have the roles reversed. Especially when you’ve never experienced those roles from your parents before.”

You felt tears begin to sting and fill your lash line as your throat tightened. “It does and I hate it. I hate that they feel like they have to take care of me because I can’t take care of myself right now. I should be the one doing that for them..not the other way around.”

“What about your parents?” Dr. Ali asked gently.

You let out a sharp exhale feeling bitterness rise within you. “They don’t give a fuck. They only call when they want something or to ask about Trent. My mum’s never even met him but was so interested because of who he is. Being with him validated me in their eyes and now that I broke up with him and have nothing they can capitalize on I’m back to being the invisible daughter. I’m only worth something if I make them look good.”

Dr. Ali made another note, keeping her voice steady and calm as she spoke. “It sounds like you spent a long time trying to fill a role they created for you. Have you ever been allowed to figure out who you are outside of that role?”

Her question made you freeze and you thought about it for a second, but you couldn’t answer. Dr. Ali’s question was forcing you to confront something you really never allowed yourself to think about.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t think I have.”

For the rest of the session, you talked about the destruction of Les Notes d’Amour and how it left you feeling like you lost a piece of yourself. You also talked about Trent and how letting him go was the hardest thing you ever did. When the session ended, Dr. Ali walked you out and gave you reassurance.

“Healing isn’t linear Y/N” she said as you reached the door. “But you’re here and that’s a good start.”

Camille glanced at you as you sat in the passenger seat of her car. “Well?”

You leaned back with a deep exhale. “She’s good.”

“Told you” Camille smirked, starting the car. “So you’re going back?”

You nodded, giving her a small smile back. “Yeah. I think I will.”

For Trent, the first year without you was just as brutal. Trent didn’t expect the breakup to hit him so hard, but it did. At first he thought he could push through the pain by burying himself in training, matches, partying, or anything else to avoid the emptiness he felt in his heart without you – but it never worked. Everywhere he turned, you were there. He could see you in the way Ziggy smiled. Sometimes he would hear someone laugh and the faint sounds of your laugh would come resurfacing back to his memory. He heard your name in the most unexpected places. He felt you in the soft floral notes of Enchantée – your very first creation and his mother’s favorite perfume that filled the air whenever she hugged him.

You were in the bed he couldn’t sleep in anymore due the void of warmth from where you used to lay. When he did sleep, he would reach out for you out of instinct at night, only to be met with cold sheets instead of the softness and warmth of your skin.

He tried everything to feel close to you again. His texts went unanswered, his calls you never picked up. He sent thoughtful gifts but they always came back marked Return to Sender. On Instagram, he still had your profile saved under his recent searches. He knew your posts by heart because it was the only connection he had to you outside of Ziggy. When you blocked him there, it felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he didn’t give up. He created a burner account – scentimental – a little nod to what brought the two of you together. He thought he was subtle enough leaving a simple message, but you preed it immediately and blocked him there too. He logged in a week later and saw the dreaded User Not Found when he tried to search your profile again.

“How did she even know it was me? Is she psychic or something?” he muttered to himself, staring at the screen in frustration. He threw his phone on the couch and sank into it, covering his face with his hands. He spent the majority of the year chasing after someone who felt like a ghost, knowing he would never catch up.

That night, Trent found himself slouching on the couch, trying to distract himself with the latest season of Love Island. It wasn’t really the same binge watching it without you. You always made watching it more fun from your commentary. He loved that you mocked the drama, laughed at the crazy flirting, or yelled at the screen whenever someone made a questionable decision.

On the screen, an islander named Cassie was crying in the corner of the villa while a boy named Logan was pacing in front of her, furious.

“So you’re just gonna do this now after everything? You’re pulling the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card?” Logan shouted with his overly groomed brows arched in frustration. “That’s real fucking cliche. Play it up for the cameras, yeah?”

“I just need time!” Cassie wailed with mascara running down her cheeks. The girl looked a hot mess, honestly. “I can’t give you what you want if I don’t know who I am right now!”

Trent tilted his head at the tv in disbelief. He shoved a handful of crisps into his mouth to keep from yelling at the screen. Logan groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You said you cared about me Cassie. It was all bullshit?”

“I DO care about you but I need space!” Cassie countered, breaking into another sobbing spell.

Trent grabbed the remote to turn the volume up. He could hear it just fine, but the parallels were striking and felt eerily familiar. The universe was funny in that way. He leaned forward, staring at the screen like it was going to give him the solution to his real life problem.

“Fucking hell” he muttered as Logan stormed out of frame. The scene then shifted to a confessional where Cassie started sobbing about how much she wanted it to work but needed to protect her peace first.

“Protect her peace?” Trent repeated out loud to no one in a sarcastic tone. “What the fuck does that even mean?” He turned the volume back down, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to hear it anymore when it felt so eerily similar to what happened the night you broke up with him. “This is fucking stupid. I hate this show. Cassie’s a fucking producer plant, no shot this isn’t scripted.”

A few weeks later, disappointed chatter from the crowd was heard at Anfield after a terrible match. Trent was bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He was exhausted more than usual. Sweat dripped down his face, mixed with tears that weren’t quite visible to the naked eye. The score was 1-2, mirroring a devastating loss. Trent misplaced a pass during the last crucial minutes of the game, basically handing over a winning goal to the rival team. He walked off the pitch, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as he made his way down the tunnel. Slot was waiting near the changing room with his arms folded.

“Trent!” Slot called out in a sharp tone. “Need to talk. Now.”

Slot stood off to the side, piercing his gaze on Trent. “What the hell was that out there?” It was clear Slot was frustrated with Trent’s performance.

Trent shifted around uncomfortably. “It was a mistake. It happens.”

“A mistake?” Slot repeated in disbelief. “This hasn’t been a one time thing Trent. It’s been going on for weeks. Your focus is shit out there, your passes are sloppy as fuck and your energy is damn near nonexistent. You think you’re on holiday or something? People are starting to notice. You’re supposed to be a leader on this team and you’re not acting like it.”

“I’m trying,” Trent muttered with a tight jaw.

“Not good enough,” Slot snapped, stepping closer. “I can’t afford to put someone on the pitch who’s not mentally there. Pull your weight. Whatever you have going on in your personal life needs to be sorted out. Because if this continues, you’re going to find yourself benched. I didn’t plan on bringing Ziggy on this early, but the kid’s good at multiple positions. I’ll put him in your spot if you don’t fix it.”

The thought of being benched and replaced with Ziggy while he watched from afar made his stomach knot. He nodded stiffly. “Understood. I’ll fix it.”

Slot patted Trent on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “You’re a great player Trent. But you need to think about what brought you here. For your own sake and the team’s.”

When Trent walked into the changing room, the usual post match banter was replaced with mostly silence. Trent sat down, staring at the floor while still in his kit. He felt a familiar presence and looked up to see Mo standing in front of him with his arms crossed in concern.

“You alright, brother?” Mo asked, low enough so no one else could hear.

“Nah. Not really.” Trent admitted with a heavy sigh. Mo sat down next to him, concern still etched on his face.

“What’s going on? You’re not yourself.”

Trent debated brushing Mo off, but the deep concern in Mo's eyes made him decide against it. “It’s a lot. The games, pressure...personal stuff. Don’t even know where to start.”

Mo nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I’m not going to get all up in your business but it could help if you talk to someone professionally.”

“Like who?” Trent asked, frowning. “A therapist or something?”

“Yeah” Mo said, shrugging. “No shame in it. Everyone’s been there. Another perspective could help you get out of your own head..”

Trent leaned back against the wall with his legs stretched out in a manspread. “Nah..I don’t know about that. Feels like I’m admitting I’m weak.”

Mo chuckled lightly. “It’s not. I can give you a contact. She’s a family friend – Dr. Ali. She’s very good.”

Trent stared at Mo, weighing the suggestion. “You think it’ll help?”

“Inshallah. It’s worth a shot. You never know.”

Mo gave Dr. Ali’s contact details to Trent discreetly. Trent saved the number, staring at it before he put his phone back up in his bag. It could be the first step to getting back to where he needed to be.

Or at least figure out where the hell he went wrong.

When Trent arrived at therapy, he expected something a lot more clinical and overly sterile, but Dr. Ali’s office wasn’t any of that. There were no blaring fluorescent lights making his eyes hurt or making him feel like he was being interrogated like a prisoner. She had a diffuser that filled the therapy room with a lavender scent. It would usually be comforting, but it made him uncomfortable because it reminded him of you.

“Trent” Dr. Ali greeted in a professional tone, extending her hand. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Trent wasn’t sure if comfort was an option given how he’d been feeling lately, but he nodded and sat in the chair, leaned back enough to look relaxed but not like he wanted to be there any longer than he had to. The therapist watched him carefully, waiting to see what he would do next. She wasn’t in any rush, and it threw him off.

“Ever been to therapy?” she finally asked while sitting in the seat across from him.

Dr. Ali’s lips quirked, but not in a patronizing way. “Fair enough. The first time isn’t easy for most, but no pressure. Start with whatever you want to. Or we can just talk and get to know each other.”

Trent’s knees bounced restlessly while he sat, shifting around nervously. He couldn’t believe Mo had somehow talked him into this. He felt a bit stupid to try therapy. In his mind, it was too formal for what he was going through. He felt like he overreacted by even showing up to the place at all.

“Not sure what to say really. Feels pointless.” he muttered while frowning.

“You’re not the only one who says that. It can feel like that at first. But you’re here and that’s something.”

Trent’s jaw clenched as he looked up at her. “Yeah? So what’s it mean then?”

“That you want things to be different.”

He huffed and looked away, knee bouncing harder. “Maybe but I don’t know. My mate, Mo, gave me your contact. Said you were really good or something.”

Dr. Ali hummed softly. “Mo Salah, right?”

“Yeah..he said I should talk to someone.” Trent tugged at the string on his joggers, feeling exposed all of a sudden.

“And why do you think he said that?” she asked.

Trent exhaled. “Because I’ve been playing like shit on the pitch. I haven’t been right since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Since??” Dr. Ali prompted him to continue, gentle with her tone.

“Since my ex. Y/N.”

Dr. Ali paused her pen over her notebook before jotting down a note. “Tell me about her and your relationship.”

Trent’s throat suddenly went dry. He rubbed his hand down his face, staring at an area on the floor. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart...but stubborn as hell. She ran a shop called Les Notes d’Amour and made fragrances. It was her dream.”

“So you met her through her work?” Dr. Ali asked.

“Nah...well..sort of. We kept running into each other like it was serendipity or whatever. It sounds mad but that’s what it felt like. We met on a train, then at some café, and again at her friend’s launch. Next thing I knew I was walking into her shop asking for a custom scent. After that I was done for.”

Trent smiled faintly but then it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. “Her shop burned down because of her ex and an assistant. Then everything fell apart from there.”

“And you blame yourself for that?”

Trent’s head shot up. “No but at the same time, yes. I promised I’d protect her and I don’t feel like I did a good job of doing that. Feels like I could’ve done more, y’know? It’s been a year and I still think about her every day.”

“And thinking about her everyday...what does that look like for you?”

Trent looked at his hands. “It’s stupid stuff. I’ll hear someone that has her name on tv and my heart sinks for a second. My mum wears this perfume Y/N made. It’s called Enchantée and every time I smell it, I think about Y/N. I see her brother in training every day and I want to ask about her, but I can’t anymore because I know he’s trying to protect her.”

Trent went quiet for a while but then he continued. “And then at night..I’m always reaching for her and she’s not there. It sucks because I’ve tried to reach out and it’s gone nowhere.”

“What happens when you try to reach out to her?”

Trent laughed bitterly. “I’m blocked everywhere. I made a burner Instagram account just to check her page. I thought I was incognito and sent a simple message but she blocked me there too. Don’t even know how she figured out it was me behind it.”

Dr. Ali lifted a brow. “Why did you send that message?”

Trent scratched his head, embarrassed. “I just wanted to see how she was doing. We went from talking everyday to nothing. Feels like quitting something cold turkey and I hate that. It’s like I lost her forever.”

“What do you think stops her from contacting you?”

Trent shrugged in frustration. “I guess she didn’t want to drag me down with her but I didn’t see it that way. I would help her through anything..even now I still would.”

The therapist’s pen tapped against her notebook as she watched Trent. “You carry a lot of unresolved feelings about your breakup with her. And a lot of guilt too.” Trent didn’t respond and bounced his knee more.

“Let’s switch gears and talk about football for a minute. How’s that been going?”

Trent scoffed and shook his head. “Going like shit. I can’t focus at all. I replay every mistake in my head and I can’t let it go. I’m letting everyone down.”

“What happens when you make a mistake on the pitch?” she asked in a curious tone.

“I think about it for the rest of the game. Then it just spirals and one mistake turns into a lot more. I can’t get my head back in it and it used to be my escape.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward. “In therapy, I typically teach people how to break those cycles. We can’t change the past, but...we can change how we react to it and replace those thought patterns with healthier ones.”

“So what? You’re saying I need to let go?”

“I’m saying I can help you understand and process those feelings” she corrected in a soft manner.

Trent leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “I still don’t know if this therapy thing is for me.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to decide today.” she said with a smile. “We’ll work on it and see where it goes.”

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” he nodded with uncertainty, but felt less resistant than before.

“Same time next week?” she asked.

Trent stared at the floor longer than he needed to, and then sighed before nodding. “Yeah..same time.”

The second year without Trent wasn’t as bad as the first. You weren’t fixed, but you weren’t broken down either. Therapy helped you alot, and you began to move forward, even if it was just little baby steps. You had a new house, a new routine, and a new normal.

When you started packing your apartment up for the move to Manchester, it felt bittersweet. It was painful, but necessary. The last room you packed was your bedroom. Ezzie and Ziggy helped in their own way, which barely involved any packing. Ziggy was sprawled across your bed scrolling through his phone while Ezzie sat on the floor putting clothes into a box you tossed her way.

“Are you gonna miss living here?” Ezzie asked, looking up at you.

“Maybe a little..but it’s time” you said in a low voice, crouching down to pull out the drawer in your vanity. You reached behind it to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind, and you felt something hard against your fingers. You tugged at it, revealing your old and dusty perfume diary. The diary had all of your old formula notes and ideas in it. You sat on the floor, staring at the cover like you had just seen a ghost.

“What’s that?” Ziggy asked, giving a quick glance and then going back to his phone.

“Nothing” you answered quickly, flipping it open. It wasn’t nothing. The pages still smelled like bergamot as you flipped through. You landed on a page that had Trent’s handwriting on it. It wasn’t something you saw before, and it made you take a second glance.

I want you for as long as the stars shine.

You scoffed, laughing before you could stop.

“What?” Ezzie looked at you, curiously.

“Nothing. Just a reminder of how stupid I am.” You snapped the notebook shut and tossed it to the nearest box. Ezzie stared at you, but then she decided to let it go.

Ziggy still had his face in his phone but suddenly spoke up with perfect timing. “Trent’s still with his new girl by the way. Alannah.”

“I don’t think I asked.”

“Yeah but I’m telling you.” He flipped onto his back with a groan, his muscles still sore from training. “She’s leng but boring as fuck.” Ziggy propped his phone on his chest, trying not to laugh while he continued to spill the tea. “Forreal though. She’s got no aura. She’s fit, yeah, but she reminds me of mum’s chicken.”

You raised your brow, trying to hold in your laugh. “Mum’s chicken??”

“Dry. No flavor.” Ziggy emphasized, motioning like he was trying to season a chicken breast with something other than salt and pepper. “She’s fucking weird too. She won’t drink water unless it’s a certain temperature and she swirls it first like she’s in the movie ‘Get Out’ or something.” He mimicked her, twirling his fingers in an invisible glass. “Then she won’t sip it unless there’s a straw.”

Ezzie cackled loudly from across the room. “Shut up! You’re lying.”

“Swear down!” Ziggy held up his hand, completely serious. “Watched her do it at a team dinner and Trent just sat there like it was normal. Like bro..say something. Blink twice if you’re in the sunken place.”

You pursed your lips together, trying not to burst out laughing. “And what does she look like?”

Ziggy shrugged, dramatically. “Exactly like you would expect. She looks like a walking Lululemon advert.”

Ezzie snorted, tossing a pair of jeans in a box. “So she looks like every beige aesthetic girl on Tiktok then?”

“Yeah! Exactly that!” Ziggy pointed at his twin like she cracked a code in his mind.

“Leng, but boring beige girl who swirls her water while wearing Lululemon, huh?” you snickered while shaking your head. “Perfect match if that’s what he wants.”

Ziggy scoffed, sitting up. “Nah, he looks miserable. I asked him about her and guess what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said.. she’s nice.” Ziggy mimicked Trent’s voice, void of any enthusiasm. “Not she’s amazing or that’s the girl of my dreams. Just.. nice.”

A tiny smile cracked through your expression, but then it left. Dry chicken or not, she was there and you weren’t. Ziggy noticed your shift and he stopped teasing. He scratched his jaw, briefly stroking the facial hair that had grown on his face.

“Anyway she’s not that great. She’s boring. You’re–” He stopped mid sentence, looking at Ezzie for help.

Ezzie shot him a look that told him to shut up, then she finished his sentence for him. “She’s not you Y/N.”

And maybe that was the problem.

When you finally arrived at the house in Manchester, it felt like you were closing one chapter and opening a new one. The new house had enough room for the three of you now that you all had officially gone no contact with your parents. It was in a comfortable neighbourhood, where neighbors said hello but didn’t pry too much.

It was a place to breathe...sort of.

Most of your breathing now consisted of Rêveur wafting through the air wherever you went. Thanks to Camille’s ability to persuade you into continuing to sell the scent at department stores through her manufacturer, the fragrance had spread in popularity over multiple continents. It was surreal to smell something that used to be so personal to you on strangers. Men walking past you on the street were wearing it. People’s husbands were wearing it on a simple shopping trip to Tesco. Even teenagers who were way too heavy handed with their sprays were wearing it. It followed you everywhere – almost like the universe was taunting you. You didn’t love the idea of smelling your past on a stranger’s skin, but it brought in a lot of money. Rêveur used to be you and Trent’s creation, but now it belonged to the whole wide world.

“You gotta stop frowning when you smell it” Ezzie told you one morning while lounging on the couch in one of your old hoodies. “It’s iconic now. You’re a fragrance legend.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It literally feels like it’s haunting me. It’s meant for my footballer ex, but now Steve from accounting is wearing it to Piccadilly station on his morning commute so I can afford to live.”

Ziggy walked in mid rant, dropping his bag on the floor after training. “You didn’t have to keep selling it. I would’ve made sure you were good.”

He was right. Ziggy had been grinding through the academy the past two years and started training alongside the first team. Ezzie’s calendar was filled with castings, campaigns, and now New York Fashion Week. You were proud of them, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the life you had before Les Notes d’Amour burned down. Including the life you had with Trent – especially now that Camille was engaged to Jules. She Facetimed you religiously during her wedding planning. You could see the huge diamond ring on her finger sparkling at every angle of light every time she called.

“I can’t deal with him right now” Camille sighed one night, pacing around her living room. You could see Jules in the background, quietly scrolling through his phone and wisely pretending he didn’t exist. Camille had become a bit of a bridezilla since the engagement.

“He thinks sage and laurel are the same color Y/N.”

You held back your laugh, not wanting to set Camille off. “Maybe he just doesn’t care which colors you choose?”

“Of course he doesn’t care. He’s a man.” she responded flatly, tearing up. “I can’t have sage at my wedding Y/N.. it’s sooo tacky. It has to be laurel.”

“So we’ll do laurel then. It’s not that deep.” you reaffirmed her, still not trying to laugh at Camille’s new bridezilla persona.

“It is that deep,” she snapped. “I really can’t deal with this right now.”

You nodded, letting her spiral in the same way she let you when you were worried about something miniscule. As you listened to her ramble about the difference between the shades of green, you started zoning out. You wanted to tell her about your decision to sell your formulas to a fragrance house during NYFW since you hadn’t told anyone else yet, but you couldn’t find a way to bring it up. So you kept it a secret – from everyone.

Little did you know, Trent was headed to New York too – but with Alannah.

The week of NYFW, Trent was in a quiet hotel room with Alannah as she tapped her nails against her phone screen. She sat on the bed in another Lululemon set that was void of any color besides neutrals while her hair was held up with a claw clip. The girl really had no fashion sense at all – not like you did. She looked like she was ready to head to pilates at any given moment. They matched at least – Trent wore his tracksuits as always, while she always wore Lululemon. Alannah irritated Trent though. Everything about her was aesthetically curated, clean, and so devoid of anything interesting or chaotic that it was extremely eerie. He didn’t want someone perfect, he wanted you.

Trent stood near the window, staring at the city traffic and people watching. New York was a lively city that moved fast, but in the hotel room it felt like life had been sucked out of him.

“Babe?” Alannah said suddenly while looking up from her phone.

“What?” Trent answered with agitation in his voice, his back still facing her.

“I didn’t want to say anything but...I found the ring.”

“Huh?” For a second, Trent thought she was joking. “What ring?”

“Don’t be daft Trent.” she giggled. “The little velvet box in your drawer? Are you planning something?”

He turned all the way around now, blinking. “Planning what???”

“Babeee. You know what. We’ve been together a while so it makes sense to head that way. I’ll pretend to be shocked when you ask” she winked.

The silence was awkward…very awkward. Trent looked at her like she was an idiot. “Alannah, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The engagement RING. I’m not stupid. I saw it.”

Trent ran a hand over his face, trying to process how he wanted to continue, but then he gave up. “Yeah, no. That ring isn’t for you.”

Silence.

Alannah looked as if the perfection in her had short circuited, clearly the girl wasn’t used to being told no. No matter how hard she tried to force it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s not for you” he repeated more clear this time, painfully obvious to him but not to her.

Her face contorted into a mix of embarrassment but also anger as she processed his words. “Then who the hell is it for Trent?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just not for you.” he muttered while turning back to the window.

“It doesn’t matter?” Alannah’s voice went higher. “You’re serious? I’ve been with you for almost a year. Met your mates, travelled, pretended to care about football. And I’m just some placeholder?”

“I’m not about to argue with you right now.” Trent turned back to her, his tone flat. “Not in the mood for it.”

“Oh, we are” she shot back, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. This was the most personality she’d shown since meeting him at the club one night. “You don’t want to have sex anymore, you barely spoke on the plane ride here, and now I’m finding out there’s a ring that’s not for me? You’re wasting my time!”

“Then leave.” Trent said in an unbothered tone.

Alannah’s mouth fell open, caught off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Full stop” he shrugged. “I’m not marrying you. Never planned to, never will. I don’t feel that way about you.”

He didn’t mean to be that harsh about it, but there was no point in keeping up with the charade anymore. Alannah fumbled with her bag as she stormed out the room in tears. “You’re such a dick. And you’re not that cute by the way. Let’s see who’ll put up with all your bullshit like I did.”

Trent didn’t answer and instead watched her as she slammed the door so hard the empty hangers rattled in the hotel’s wardrobe.

“Glad that’s over with.”

A few minutes later, Trent headed outside with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets as he walked through the Lenox Hill area of Manhattan. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to breathe in something else that wasn’t stuffy hotel air or Alannah’s suffocating perfume that he never liked. He wandered aimlessly past the people of New York City, letting the noise of the city drown out his thoughts. He really only dated Alannah to keep the other side of his bed warm, but she could never compare to the way he felt with you. He was checked out of that relationship from the moment it started. She couldn’t be you – no one could.

Eventually he stopped. Looking up to see he was at 225 East 60th Street

Serendipity 3 was a cozy spot he never heard of before that was known for selling frozen hot chocolate and had grown in popularity because of a 2000s rom-com film. He could see a couple sitting off to the side, sharing a hot chocolate at a small table with twinkling lights. They looked like they were on their first date, but he saw the way they looked at each other. It reminded him of the first date he had with you.

Then he smelled something. Vanilla and amber. Vanille Étoilée.

The nostalgic scent of you made him freeze on the spot. He whipped his head around, eyes darting through the crowd. He saw a familiar silhouette walking a bit further ahead, just turning the corner. He thought it was you, but he couldn’t be for sure.

“No shot…” he whispered, heart racing. He started weaving through people in a speed walk with the smell guiding him like a thread. When he reached the corner, he looked down the street but he didn’t see anyone who looked like you. There were nothing but taxis, Uber Eats bike couriers, and faceless strangers walking by. He stood there, looking around in a dazed state, staring at everything but also nothing at all as the noise of the city became the soundtrack of his confusion.

In a city like New York, you had to be a fast walker. You were a few blocks away now, but you smelled him too when you turned the corner. The faint scent of Rêveur enwrapped you, bringing back a flood of memories. That wasn’t out of the ordinary for you now that the scent had become a bestseller. You shook your head, laughing to yourself. You figured it was just another stranger wearing a scent you once created for the love of your life. Nothing more.

You couldn’t be any more wrong, but neither of you turned back.

“I’m losing it” Trent whispered to himself, dragging his hand across his face.

Maybe he was, but the universe had other plans.

An hour later, you found yourself inside Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue. The marble floors reflected the ambient lighting of the circular chandeliers above. The department store was filled with luxury goods like Gianvito Rossi, Moncler and Saint Laurent. You weren’t looking for anything specific, just window shopping and killing time before your big meeting. The fragrance section immediately drew you in. You looked at them all until you saw one single bottle of Rêveur sitting on display. It really was a bestseller.

You walked over to it, reaching out for the bottle instinctively as your fingers brushed the cool bottle. Another hand met yours at the same time and you froze, smelling the scent of bergamot, lavender, sandalwood and apple drifting into the shared air.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to–” Trent’s voice stopped mid sentence. His familiar voice threw you for a loop in the sea of American accents. You felt your heart drop as you glanced up, trying not to give away how rattled you were. Trent’s hand pulled away a bit, almost like he wasn’t sure whether to back away or stand his ground.

“Oh.” The word slipped out before you could think of anything else. “It’s you. Hi.”

Trent tilted his head, a small smile appearing on his lips. “It’s me. Hi.”

The silence stretched longer than it needed to as the magnetic tension you used to feel reappeared. You were painfully self aware of everything – how the bottle felt, how good Trent looked, how fast your heart was beating, and how Vanille Étoilée and Rêveur were enwrapping to create one intoxicating scent.

“I didn’t know you shopped at Bergdorfs…” you said finally, looking him in the eye as you pulled away from the bottle of Rêveur.

“I don’t” Trent shrugged, stepping closer to you. “Was just walking by and something pulled me in.” He eyed the bottle, grabbing it and resting it in the palm of his hand as he smiled back at you. “Guess I know what now. It’s the last bottle.”

“And here I was thinking I was special,” you smiled back.

“You are.” The words slipped out so naturally you weren’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

You glanced back at the bottle of Rêveur in his hand and cleared your throat, trying to find anything to talk about to settle the awkwardness.

“So..um..you still wear it then?” you finally asked.

“Never stopped.” He tilted his head, searching your face for something. “Can’t bring myself to switch but it’s getting harder to find nowadays.”

You bit your lip, trying not to show your widening grin. “A number one bestseller will do that.”

“I guess so” Trent’s gaze drifted to your left hand and you clocked it instantly. He was checking to see if someone else had scooped you up.

“Looking for something?” you teased, cocking your brow.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh..nah. Just checking. You’re not all that easy to keep up with these days. You even blocked my burner.”

You blinked, surprised he brought it up, but then you smirked. “...Scentimental. Really Trent?”

“I thought it was a good name” he defended himself with a sheepish grin. “How did you know it was me?”

“You were following a JudeTrent fan account and then you sent me a DM that sounded exactly like you. Didn’t take much. You’re not that subtle.”

“Ah, damn. I thought I was incognito enough” he muttered with a soft laugh.

“You weren’t. But A for effort.”

Trent’s gaze on you softened and he felt an itch to reach for you, but he couldn’t – you weren’t together anymore. He hesitated during a pause of silence, then spoke up. “So how have you been?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant even though you were everything but. “Busy…”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” You glanced down at your phone, your pulse spiking as seconds ticked by. You needed to go but you didn’t want to be the one to leave first.

“You free? To catch up, I mean..”

You heard the vulnerability in his voice and it immediately made you want to say yes, but you forced yourself to keep it together. “I have a meeting. I’m already cutting it close.”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. “Right. No problem.”

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “But maybe if it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again?”

“You think so?”

You nodded, giving him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah. It’s worked before, right?”

“Guess so.” Trent smiled just enough to make your chest ache. You stepped back, walking away before looking over your shoulder. “Bye Trent. Nice seeing you again.”

“Bye Y/N…”

The further you walked away from him, the harder it was to breathe. You didn’t look back again, but you could feel him watching you leave. As you disappeared into the crowd, Trent stood there – frozen in place as he inhaled the faint remnants of your scent in the air.

“If we’re meant to see each other again..we will.” he said to himself.

After you left Bergdorf’s in a hurry, your heart was racing. It felt like no time had passed between you, even if it was somewhat awkward. You had no time to think about that though. You had an important meeting to get to.

Or so you thought.

By the time you arrived, you were already running a bit late. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily as the lift dinged with each floor. When you finally arrived, you bolted to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi. I’m here for the meeting with the fragrance house.” you said, a little breathless.

The lady at the desk gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry Miss L/N, but that meeting ended over an hour ago.”

Your stomach sank. Thanks to jetlag and a five hour time difference, you miscalculated the time of the meeting. You fumbled for your phone, scrolling through the calendar. The meeting time was clear as day – an hour earlier than what you originally thought.

“Would you like me to reschedule?” the receptionist offered in a kind voice.

“No.” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Thank you though.”

You walked back to the lift with your shoulders slumped. When the doors opened, you barely noticed the person already in there until they spoke up.

“Y/N right?”

You turned to see a girl in head to toe athleisure, swirling a straw around in the drink she was carrying.

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly.

She smiled a bit too knowingly. “I’m Alannah. Trent’s ex.”

You were confused, but you kept your expression neutral. “Oh. Hi.”

As the lift descented, an uncomfortable silence filled the tiny space. You could feel Alannah’s gaze on you and it made you feel weird. Something about this girl was strange – Ziggy was right. Her perfume wasn’t a vibe either, it smelled awful.

Coco Mademoiselle, you thought to yourself. In this day and age??

“He’s mentioned you before,” Alannah said in an eerie tone, cutting through your internal judgement. “I mean..obviously not to me directly but..”

You scrolled through your phone, avoiding the awkwardness as best as possible. “I’m sure he has.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “That ring is for you, isn’t it?”

You stiffened, unsure of what she was getting at. “What ring?”

Alannah scoffed in disbelief. “Cut the bullshit Y/N. I know why you’re here. Me and Trent broke up today and all of a sudden you’re here too? I’m not fucking dumb.”

You gave her the nastiest side eye, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to..but it’s definitely not me. It feels like you’re projecting. Maybe sort that out before you come for me babe.” You stepped out of the lift and into the lobby before she had a chance to say anything back, and before you had a chance to give her the filthiest read of a lifetime.

When you got back to your hotel room, you flung yourself on the bed with a groan, rubbing your temples. Trent, Alannah, and the missed meeting. It all felt like some lame, poorly written story on wattpad, but this was your real life.

It was supposed to be easy to get lost in a big city like New York, especially during NYFW, yet somehow you kept running into the past. You didn’t understand it at that moment, but the universe was slowly resewing the loose thread that connected you to him – waiting for the perfect moment to sew the final figure 8 knot in place.

A few months later, you were back at Anfield and it felt surreal. It had been over two years since you last set foot in the stadium. But now you were wearing your own surname on a shirt instead of Alexander-Arnold. The number 16 was displayed on the fabric, representing your brother’s first team debut. Ezzie was beside you, documenting everything on Instagram with her phone.

“This is so weird” you admitted as you sat in your seat.

“So don’t make it weird. We’re here for Ziggy, not Trent.” Ezzie affirmed, sitting beside you. “You probably won’t even notice he’s there.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. The entire game it seemed like him and Ziggy were attached at the hip, mirroring each other alongside the pitch. During the second half, Trent had a near perfect assist and Ziggy was able to score a goal on his debut night. Both of them were obnoxious as hell when they celebrated – they were still doing their crazy handshake that had somehow become even more ridiculous.

Although the game ended in a draw, Ziggy and Trent’s performance was the highlight of the night. The crowd dispersed from the stadium and you found yourself looking up at the sky – tonight there was a full moon. You decided to stay behind, letting Ezzie head home without you so you could process all the happenings of the night.

The last time you were here your heart was full of love and chaos, but now it was filled with remnants of the past and the newfound pride you felt for Ziggy. It was nice seeing him live his dream, but it was bittersweet at the same time because every time you saw a smile on your brother’s face...Trent was right beside him.

You made your way down to the pitch, walking to the center. You sighed, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chill of the night as you tilted your head back, taking in the moon in all its glory.

“I didn’t think you would stay.”

His voice startled you. Mostly because of how much you missed hearing it. You turned around and Trent was standing at the edge of the center with his hands in his jacket pockets. The view of him alone nearly knocked the wind out of you. You had no idea he was still watching every full moon with you while you were apart for two years.

“I just needed a minute,” you replied softly.

Trent walked toward you slowly, trying to figure out if he was welcome or not. You didn’t move, so he continued to bridge the gap.

“Hell of a debut, yeah?” He nodded toward where Ziggy scored his first goal.

You nodded, smiling shyly. “He really thrives under pressure.”

“Nah, that’s all you.” Trent replied in a warm voice. “He’s lucky he has someone like you to keep his head on straight.”

You glanced away from him, taking in the view of the moon again. “Just doing what I need to do. He’s too young to handle it alone.”

Trent sat next to you, but kept a comfortable distance. He looked up at the moon, and then back at you. You found yourself instinctively scooting toward him. You convinced yourself it was because you were cold, but you knew better.

“I missed you,” Trent said, breaking the silence. His guard was fully down, emotion in every word.

“Trent…” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me say it Y/N” His eyes searched yours and you felt goosebumps appear on your skin. “I miss you every single day. I tried to move on..I really did. But I can’t. I miss you so much it hurts.” You felt a lump in your throat as tears welled in your eyes. You were trying so hard to keep it together, but you were crumbling fast.

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you admitted in a trembling voice. “I was really depressed Trent…I didn’t want to drag you with me.”

“I would’ve stuck beside you through it all.”

“I know,” you whispered. Tears started spilling down your face. “I didn’t mean what I said to you that night. I was angry..hurt..really scared. And I only blocked you because hearing about you or even looking at you hurt so bad. I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”

Trent moved his hand and brushed them over your knuckles lightly. He searched your eyes and you could see the pain of all the months he spent wondering.

“Never needed you to be anything but yourself, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell in love with you because you never tried to change yourself for me. I fell in love with every bit of what makes you, you. I just wish you would’ve given me a little longer. Been lost without you ever since.”

You glanced down as your tears fell more quickly now. Trent cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were glossy, filled with tears threatening to overflow. “You don’t get it Y/N. I’ve never seen you as someone that needs fixing. I love you the way you are. Through the good and the bad I’ll always love you no matter what.”

“I– I love you too....I’m sorry” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to do you like that. I honestly just didn’t know what to do. I–”

A faint crack of thunder made you pause. Trent’s thumb traced over your cheek, wiping away the tears that kept falling no matter how hard you were trying to keep them in. His gentle touch felt just as familiar as the moon hanging above you both.

“I didn’t know how to come back to you.” you murmured in a soft tone.

“I’d wait forever for you baby” Trent replied, barely audible over the soft drizzle starting to rain over you. “I only want you.”

“Trent..” You said his name like it was the only word you ever wanted to say again. Another clap of thunder broke from the sky as Trent pulled you into him, placing his hands on your waist. You couldn’t hold back anymore and found yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The moment you kissed him, it felt like you were kissing him for the first time all over again. Every part of you felt like it was being stitched back together with each movement of his lips against yours – like a stitched figure 8 knot.

When the rain began to fall harder, Trent pulled away breathlessly to take off his jacket, holding it above you to shield you from the rain, then he smirked at you.

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“What?”

“That’s what you said to me in New York” he reminisced. “You looked me dead in the eye at Bergdorf’s and told me that. Then you walked away like it was nothing.”

You let out a laugh. “And here we are..seeing each other again.”

“After two, long and miserable years.” he chuckled sarcastically, walking you toward the tunnel. You felt guilty, so you didn’t say anything back, but Trent sensed it immediately.

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” he added. “I just don’t want to waste any more time wondering if I’ll see you again. I don’t want to leave it up to fate or serendipity or whatever we’ve been calling this.”

You didn’t want to leave it up to fate either. Not anymore.

“Trent..I really don’t want this night to end..” you admitted quietly. “I missed you so fucking much.”

He gave you a big grin, making your heart skip a beat. “Then let’s not let it end, yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me” he said, very matter of fact while smiling. “Anywhere. Right now.”

“Anywhere?” you asked softly.

“Anywhere.” he repeated, leaning in closely to kiss you again. “As long as I’m with you.”

thank you readers ily 🫶🏽

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