#I was thinking of a thing oc the other day... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bambiihee · 3 days ago

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FROM UTOPIA AND BACK ˒˒ 이희승 〔 TEASER 〕

♫ listen to the playlist here!

pairing。 » lee heeseung x fem!reader 𓄵feat。 the rest of enhypen, giselle and winter from aespa, lia and ryujin from itzy, yunjin from lsfm, named oc boyfriend

genre。angst, smut, porn with plot, unhappy ending

warnings。» explicit language and sexual content, drug use, mentions of marijuana and prescription pills, dealer!heeseung, good girl!reader, college au, fraternities and sororities, ex fwbs to ???, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, cheating/infidelity, piv, unprotected sex, facefucking, facials, meanie!heeseung, semi-public sex, more tags to be added. everything is terrible and everyone sucks. current word count。9k (final wc ~ 25-30k)

teaser word count。1.3k

bambii's note。» now that i'm officially a third of the way through this fic, I wanted to share a little teaser of what's to come!! this fic is literally my fucking baby and I really hope you guys are as excited about reading this as i am writing it. let me know if you want to be tagged for when it releases! I'm not making any solid promises due to my event and the other fics I'm working on, but I'm really hoping to be done with this thing by mid to late august. I'm not comfortable setting an official release date until I'm much closer to the finish line.

If you were sober, you would be in full blown panic mode, but the weed is making it difficult to really care. It wasn’t as if you were missing some big test or anything, and Heeseung skipped class all of the time and no one ever batted an eye… and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want this moment to end. You and Heeseung together in his car like nothing had ever happened between you, like everything was just as it was when you thought you had his heart.

“This is what I mean when I say you think too much.” Heeseung shakes his head and lights thankfully not another joint but a cigarette. “Nobody cares if you don’t show up to a class or two. Just tell them you were sick or something if they’re really that nosy. Besides, we’re the only people on this side of the parking lot right now. It’s not like somebody’s going to see you.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Come on, stay with me a little longer. Just until you’re sober. I missed you.” and there he goes again, with his big, sparkly Bambi eyes, gazing down at you like he needs your permission to breathe. You hate him, hate how manipulative he is and how good he is at it. You hate how confident you were that you could beat him at his own game, yet here you are, falling for the same old tricks like you never learned your lesson.

“I haven’t missed you.” you mutter petulantly. It doesn’t sound believable even to your own ears.

Heeseung grins like it was a compliment. “Oh, yeah? Jinyoung keeping you satisfied?”

He spreads his legs wider, to the point it’s almost obscene. You swallow hard and avert your eyes from his very inviting lap. Memories of being perched on that lap tug at you like unraveling threads, slowly breaking you down; grinding up against him in this very backseat, moaning into each other's hot mouths, sliding your hands along his built thighs when you got on your knees for him, only because the touch made him shudder. How easily he made you feel like you never had before, cocky and laidback and effortless as if he wasn’t even trying. How he would talk you through it, the words branded into your brain, ringing in your ears when you’re touching yourself at night. You’ve made yourself cum to the memory of what “good girl” sounded like coming from his lips.

“He is keeping me satisfied, actually.” you insist. Somehow, you sound even less believable than you did before. “I’ve been getting out of my shell more now that we’re together; he keeps me from rotting away in my bedroom every day.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause Friday night you looked fucking miserable.” Heeseung cocks his head, eyes glittering with mirth. “Anyway, that’s not the kind of satisfied I’m talking about.”

You stiffen, a rising heat flushing your neck and cheeks. “Heeseung.” you warn him, though it sounds more like a desperate plea.

“I’m just asking. Is it wrong to be curious?” he croons, grin widening. It’s not hard to imagine the pitchfork and the horns, red and twisted and hiding underneath his equally red hair. “He must be fucking you right if you’re defending him this much.”

“I’m not having this fucking conversation with you, Lee.” you wish you had more control over your voice, like Heeseung did. You wish you didn’t sound so cornered and weak.

“Does he make you feel good? Better than me?” Heeseung leans in and his thick, musky cologne invades your senses, clouds your mind worse than the weed. The familiar, enticing scent works through you as if you were one of Pavolv’s dogs, notes of wood and amber with a hint of marijuana and cigarette smoke, so unmistakingly Heeseung that it makes your thighs clench. It reminds you of nights you used to spend with him, twisted together on his mattress, wearing his clothes like he and you were something more than… you weren’t even friends. Confidants, maybe. Business partners. Two strangers in a deal; you wanted his drugs and he wanted your body.

He still wants your body. He tells you as much with his arms caging you against the headrest, heavy on top of you and staring you down like a predator. His sultry gaze sets your skin on fire, the heat settling deep in your gut. “Does he fuck you every night like I did? Does he make you squirt as easily as I can? Does he eat your pussy the way you like?”

You whimper and squirm underneath him, unable to meet his eyes. It’s agonizing just how easily he can turn you on, your belly fluttering with hot, sticky arousal from hardly anything at all. “You’re disgusting.” you spit at him, though you don’t sound nearly as angry as you would like. It’s just what Heeseung was hoping you would say.

He beams. “Oh fuck, he doesn’t, does he? Parades you around like a trophy but can’t even please you right— do you put up with it for the stability? Fake moaning in his ear so he feels like a man?”

You shake your head violently, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Can he even make you cum?”

You don’t stop shaking your head.

Heeseung laughs, a sharp, startling bark directly in your face. He forces you to look up at him with his fingers gripped tight around your chin, his calloused fingertips digging into the fat of your cheeks. There’s a fire burning in his eyes, hungry and dangerous, all consuming with how the burning heat of his gaze overtakes your body. “I knew it. I’ve been listening to girls complain about how bad of a lay he was for years. Bet he talked big game, too. How long have you been having to finish yourself off after he falls asleep? Are your fingers even enough anymore or did you get some toys? Do you still think of me when you’re fucking yourself? Wishing it was me between those thighs?”

“Heeseung, stop.” you plead with him again, but you make no move to stop him when his hand comes to rest heavy on your inner thigh.

“Now that’s disgusting. It’s fucking criminal, having you like that and not ruining you.” he continues, warm breath tickling your ear and nose. The smell of ash on his lips tempts you for a taste. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re falling apart. Used to make you cum until you couldn’t anymore, remember baby? Poor, smart girl all stressed out and needing me to fuck her stupid. ‘Til your sweet little head’s all empty and your pussy’s shaped like me. Fuck, that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re all pent up, seeking any kind of release— it’s not really my weed you want, baby. You need me to make you cum.”

His hand slides higher, underneath your skirt and your sweater, pinky finger ghosting over the gusset of your panties. You want to fight him, push him off and away, but you’re frozen underneath his searing touch. Just the tips of his fingers and the ghost of his lips across your jaw is enough to get your pussy soaking, dampening your panties and making your hips twitch. Heeseung can no doubt feel the wet spot, growing bolder with two of his long thick fingers tracing the outline of your pussy lips. You grab ahold of his hoodie sleeve, clutching desperately to ground yourself and keep from grinding up into his hand.

“We can’t,” you mewl pathetically, baked brain spinning from how fast your carefully constructed walls are coming down. It’s a shame. You spent months working on them.

Still, even as you deny him, you don’t try to stop him when he cups your hot, throbbing cunt in his palm and presses down, rewarding your gasp with a deceptively chaste kiss to your neck. “Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, princess. Tell me what you need from me.”

#enhypen fanfiction #enha fanfic #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enha smut #enha angst #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung angst #heeseung fanfic #enhypen

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misspantymime · 3 days ago

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Grief by Proxy ("Next Week, Maybe")

a/n: I'm oddly into game plays of Umamusume right now, so that's what I listened to while writing. Probably doesn't matter, but it's just a little fun fact! (˶˃⤙˂˶)

taglist: @cheust, @welpthisisboring, @c4xcocoa, @myjumper. @thatbitchanna27, @shycreatorreview, @tinytacocollection, @mazixxss, @llikeballs

Yandere! Batfam x AFAB! Reader x Neglected! Wayne! AFAB! OC

And just like that you weren’t alone anymore.

The next few days passed by in a rhythm much like a heart beat– steady and one note but warm. Everything smelled of bleach and artificial citrus. The nurses came and went with rolling carts, filled with either food or medicine or both, and clipped, polite smiles. You were poked and prodded and filled with medicine you couldn't pronounce unless you actually made an effort in your hazy drug induced state. And yet, even through all that, you could still hear Celeste.

Sometimes, she spoke in that tinkling, wind chime sounding voice. That was when you could feel someone else in the room, more often than not being another nurse. The sound would curl and tumble through the air, like warm breath on a cold day, before reaching your ears. Oddly enough, the time seemed to bleed together more so when she Celeste spoke like that.

Other times, when it was just the two of you, she spoke differently.

It was rougher, more jagged around the edges. Still with a certain lilt, the remnants of elegance expected from a Wayne girl, but buried under something sharper. She swore when no one else was around, not like she wanted attention but more like just because she could. She’d say gross things to make you laugh, even if it hurt to do so, like when she threw up once in a limo or collected cicada shells in an old makeup tin.

That was how you got to know Celeste.

Not the fairy-like girl you met, with pretty smiles and soft lace, swaying those around her to a melody only she seemed to hear. Not the fragile, porcelain doll nurses cooed over with barely disguised pity. Just Celeste. The girl who swore like a sailor in the cadence of a perfectly polished flute. The girl with the disposition of confectioner’s sugar, yet the acidic bite of vinegar. The girl who said she hated sunny days because she burned so easily and loved rainy days because that’s when all of the lower creatures of the earth wake up just to say hi to her.

She spoke even when you didn’t answer everytime. Sometimes she would trail off mid-sentence and fall asleep, leaving the last word to hang in the air before dissipating. Other times, the two of you just sat together, not talking, not even looking at each other. Just existing near each other, like cats sharing the same sunny spot as they slept. You’d feel her gaze sometimes, and when you looked, she’d pretend she wasn’t staring.

“Celeste…”

It was more common than Celestine, you suppose, but it felt different to say it out loud.

“Celeste…”

Like you were calling out for someone that wasn’t here.

“Celeste–”

“Why do you keep saying it, weirdo?” Celeste quipped, not entirely unkind but with a slight bite to the tail end.

Your mouth clamped shut when you realized your murmuring had been filling the silent air between the two of you. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel that embarrassed this time.

“Is Celestine your real name?”

“Yeah,” She looked at you suspiciously, “Why?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone called that before.” You admitted, sheepishly.

“Well, now you have.” Celeste huffed, turning over in her bed.

“I guess.”

The silence stretched out between you two before she said something else, a few beats later.

“It’s a rock or something, I think.” Her back was still facing you.

“A crystal?” You offered, wondering if she felt you staring at the white tresses cascading onto the sheets..

“Yeah. My mom said it was pretty, so that’s why she called me ‘Celestine’”

Now that you thought about it, you never did hear about her mom before. You hadn’t heard of your own mom, either, but that wasn’t weird for a foster kid. It was weird that a Wayne girl never really said anything about her mom before. If you thought hard enough, you could remember Bruce Wayne’s mom. Her name was Martha, and you remembered a building was named after her, along with her husband Thomas.

“It’s nice. Sounds kind of sparkly.” You said instead, of addressing the more pressing question.

“I mean, yeah, she always said it was the kind of name angels had.” She sounded a little relieved that that was what you chose to say.

“Angels?”

“Yeah, I told her I didn’t want to be an angel, cause they’re boring.”

“But they can fly.” You argued.

“So? There’s nothing in the sky but clouds and birds. When you’re in the mud, you get to see a bunch of stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like beetles and worms and mushrooms–” A wet-sounding cough cut her off and you watched her shoulders shake with surprise and stress.

“Are you okay?” You asked, automatically.

“I'm fine. It’s just a cough," Celeste said, but you heard the strain underneath. Like her lungs were folding up inside her and she was trying to pretend they weren’t.

You didn’t say anything. You just waited.

"Don’t look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I’m dying or something." She turned her head just enough to shoot you a glare over her shoulder. Her eyes looked glassier than they did yesterday.

You looked into her misty eyes and she hurriedly rubbed the moisture away, like that would erase the image from your mind.

“I’m not” She stressed out, fully turning to face you this time.

“Okay” Was all you could say in response.

Celeste looked intently at your face, as if looking for a lie. When she relaxed back into her pillow, you assumed she found the answer she was looking for.

It was a couple days in when the rhythm of the hospital began to shift. Nurses came in more often, in groups of two or three mostly. They’d whisper amongst each other, but offer tight lipped smiles when you looked their way. Even the sterile smell was overtaken by the scent of an oncoming storm. And at the epicenter was Celeste.

“Someone’s coming” She said flatly, one evening as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

You looked up from the pink tub you were hunched over, brushing your teeth. You blinked at her, owlish, then spat out the foam.

“Who’s coming?” you asked when she didn’t elaborate.

“Dunno. Someone important.” It sounded like a half-truth, but you felt like you wouldn’t get much else out of her.

When you returned from the restroom, having passed frazzled staff in the hallway, you saw new, pressed sheets on Celeste’s bed. Her hair was braided and draped over her shoulder. Her slate-blue eyes flicked to you when you entered, then drifted back to the window once she realized it was only you.

“Did you do that yourself?” You nodded to the braid.

“No,” Celeste trailed a finger down the cross-section of her tresses. “The nurse did. Said I had a visitor.”

“You know who it is?” You asked, sitting on the foot of her bed.

“Kind of.” She murmured, her eyes flicking to the door once again.

You turned to look too, when the sound of footsteps began to grow louder.

The steps weren’t loud, but they were authoritative and commanding, as if whatever followed them was to be seen and anticipated. The two of you watched as a shadow passed over the window of the ward’s entrance. Your gaze was temporarily broken when you saw Celeste’s hands grip her blanket stronger than normal.

When the door opened, you were met with Bruce Wayne.

Being a full-blooded Gothamite, you of course knew about the prince of Gotham. That being said, you never expected to meet him, or even see him in person.You’d see his face on the side of buses, framed on the cover of charity galas, and blurred in the tabloids. If you were an ant in the scheme of things, Bruce Wayne would be a planet. And maybe that’s why he didn’t notice you at first, carefully towards the chair next to Celeste’s bedside without even a glance in your direction. In his hands was a gorgeous bouquet of white flowers. Lilies, you realized belatedly.

“Hi there, Celestine,” he said, with a lightness that didn’t match the way her breath rasped in her chest. His voice carried the same tone your old homeroom teacher used when asking how your weekend was—well-meaning, distant, and practiced.

He held out the bouquet, and Celeste accepted it without hesitation, without expression. The flowers looked absurd in her arms, dwarfing her completely—like a party favor for a guest who’d already left.

“How are your symptoms? Anymore coughing?” He smiled at her

“Just a little.” Celeste said, even though you knew she’d wake up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe. “The mask helps.”

“That’s good to hear. You’re in the best hands here, so it should only be for a little bit longer, alright?” He didn’t sound cold, but the way he said that made you fidget uneasily.

“Okay.” Celeste muttered.

“Alfred thought you’d like these,” He gestured to the flowers. ”He couldn't come but wanted to know you were doing well.”

Celeste nodded and looked intently at his face. His smile didn't waver.

“Dick and Tim send their best wishes.”

“Are they here?”

“No, Dick’s department is short-staffed and he’s working overtime. Tim’s been having a rough semester too, you know?”

“Right.” She nodded again, eyes dimming slightly.

“The nurses said you’ve been good at taking your medicine, but have a bit of trouble eating.”

“When I eat, my stomach gets upset." Celeste replied daintily.

“Well, maybe I can get you some pudding or applesauce to eat. That’ll be better on your stomach, right?”

You expected her face to scrunch up in disgust, like it usually did when she thought about sweet stuff like that. Instead, she smiled patiently. “That’d be nice.”

“She said she wants grits.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself, causing them both to look at you, puzzled. But it was true. You remembered her saying she wanted all kinds of food, even if she couldn't keep them down.

“Oh, hello there. You are…?”

“She’s a friend.” Celeste answers for you, messing with one of many green leaves amongst the white petals as she looks at you like she didn’t expect you to say anything.

He smiled charmingly at you and your face felt hot. Not really from the smile, but more so from the questioning look of Celeste.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” He nods once. Dismissive, but not rude. Like he’s filing you under “temporary presence.”

“She came here a few days ago.” Celeste continued without any prompting. “She got hurt.”

“I hope you both feel better soon, then.” He said it like that wrapped everything up

You gave a small nod, unsure if he expected anything more. Your mouth felt dry. You could still hear Celeste’s cough in your memory—wet and sharp and unmissable.

He looked back at Celeste, not seeming to notice the way her fingers had stopped moving over the flowers.

“I’ll see if I can stop by again next week,” Bruce added. “It’s a bit hard with board meetings right now.”

You felt her still beside you. Not tense. Not sad. Just still, like she had already learned not to expect anything.

“Sure,” she said. “If you have time.”

He didn’t hear the weight in her voice. Or maybe he did, and decided not to acknowledge it.

“Tell Alfred I liked the flowers,” Celeste added after a moment, her voice polite and far away.

“I will,” Bruce replied, rising to leave. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves like he was already in a different room.

“You get some rest, alright?”

“Of course,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifted just enough to pass for a smile.

You watched him walk toward the door, back straight, footsteps even. He didn’t turn around. Not once.

When he disappeared down the hall, silence stretched between you and Celeste like a sheet pulled too tight.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Celeste cut any words off, sharply rising from her bed. Even as limited as the mask and IV made her, she pulled the garbage bin from the far side of the bed closer.

And in one fluid motion, she dumped the flowers into the garbage.

You stared at her as she settled into the bed.

Her only answer was.

“I hate flowers.”

a/n: I will make a character profile for Celeste soon. And a master list. I promise! I've just been distracted by dumb things!

#yandere #yandere core #yandere blog #yandere x y/n #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #the mime has written

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lupinqs · 55 minutes ago

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EPILOGUE ━━ Where It Hurts, Where It Heals

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.7K

❀ ━ warnings: angst, descriptions of injury

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: i know epilogues are usually supposed to be happy but i like to think the ending is optimistic enough to consider it so. if yall wanna know anything that happens afterwards, or even want bonus scenes, lmk and i might be able to cook something. besides that, though, thank you all for tuning into paige and jo’s story, they are my babies and i appreciate you all 🫶🏻

APRIL 2026

JO'S ANXIOUS. Which—well, okay, it's not exactly a new thing, but still.

She's always nervous before games. Everyone knows that by now. Some days it's light—a background hum, manageable. Other days, like today, it curls hot and tight in her chest like it's trying to claw its way out.

Today's different. Not because it's the national championship—she's done that before, won it. Not because it's Texas, either, even if they're playing well. No, today is different because it's the last one. The last game she'll play in this jersey. The last time she's tape her ankles, braid her hair back, and wear UCONN in big bold letters across her chest. After today, she's not Jo Jacobson, UConn guard. She's something else—an alum, a former, a name on the list of players who were.

That scares her more than she's willing to admit.

Texas isn't South Carolina. Everyone knows that. UConn got through the real war two days ago in the Final Four against the Gamecocks, scraped by with bruised knees and split lips, adrenaline crashing into relief as the buzzer sounded. That felt like the title. This—today—feels more like a formality. They're favored. Everyone expects them to win. The bracket's tilted in their direction by a laughable margin.

Which is exactly what makes Jo feel like she can't breathe.

She's not afraid of losing. That isn't it. She believes in her team. She's seen what they're capable of, what she's capable of. But belief doesn't quiet that voice in the back of her mind. The one that whispers what if. The one that reminds her how many eyes will be on her tonight, how many people are expecting greatness out of their National Player of the Year, how they're expecting her to lead, finish strong, walk out of here with two rings and back-to-back championships for the Huskies.

It's not the fear of the outcome. It's the fear of letting anyone down.

Which is why she's here, sitting in the back of a hallway in the arena—knees drawn up, warmup sleeves covering her hands, shoes scuffed against cement floor. She's close enough to the locker room that she'll hear if someone comes calling, but far enough that no one's going to bother her unless they really mean to.

She's always done this. Wanders before warmups. Finds a hallway or a loading dock or a quiet tunnel and just sits. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn't. Right now, it's the latter.

The lights overhead buzz faintly. There's a quiet echo down the corridor—shoes squeaking, laughter from somewhere distant, the low thrum of the arena crowd coming to life.

Her fingers twitch in the fabric of her sleeve. Her right leg bounces once, then again. Her jaw is set tight, teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek. She tries to exhale slow, but it catches halfway through.

It’s not just the game. That’s part of it. But it’s not the whole thing.

Her family was supposed to be here. Mia made a sign, Peyton got a custom UConn jacket, her parents were sure to sport her jersey. But the storm hit Boston hard last night. Flights got grounded, terminals shut down. Her mom called close to midnight, voice tight and apologetic, telling her the best they could do was a flight tomorrow morning. Too late.

Jo had nodded through it. Told them it was fine, that she understood, that she’d FaceTime them after the game. But it’s not fine. Not really.

Because no matter how many people are out there in that arena—alums, fans, media, people who’ve watched her grow up inside this program—none of them are hers. Not in the way that matters.

She presses her palms into her thighs, grounding herself. Tries to remember her breathing. In for four. Hold. Out for seven. Again. Again.

It’s not working.

And because her brain is cruel and habitual and wired like this, it wanders somewhere else. To another absence.

Because she used to not have to do this alone.

She used to have someone else here with her.

Paige.

She was always here. Ever since that first time—Jo's freshman year, her first real game in a UConn jersey, nerves like acid in her throat and Paige weirdly distant, quiet, barely speaking to her all week. That night, everything hit at once. Jo had a panic attack just outside the locker room in Gampel, had curled in on herself and tried not to sob.

It was Paige who found her. Comforted her. Held her face in her hands like it was something precious. Told her, be you, be great. That all Jo ever needed to be was herself and that would be enough and more.

Jo had believed her.

And that moment turned into something more. A pregame ritual. Paige would find her before the big games. Say the same words, sometimes with a smirk, sometimes dead serious, sometimes soft and slow right into Jo's ear. Jo would pull the thin silver chain from her bag and claps it around Paige's neck before every game. A good luck charm, since Jo couldn't wear it herself.

Later, when Paige was back on the court again, they dropped the routine. It wasn't necessary. Paige was there, which was its own kind of steady.

But now she's not.

Now, she's somewhere out in the crowd, tucked into a row with the rest of the UConn alums. Somewhere behind the bench. Not beside Jo. Not touching her knee. Not holding her face in her hands.

The necklace is still in Jo's bag, zipped into the small inside pocket. She thought about pulling it out this morning. Thought about asking someone—Ice, maybe, who tweaked her shoulder in the Elite Eight and isn't playing—to wear it for her. But it didn't feel right. It's not about the necklace. It never was. It was about Paige.

And now Paige isn't here and she's not hers.

The hallway feels colder, like a chill has gone through it. Or maybe it’s just quieter. The sound of her team laughing down the corridor feels far away, like a different world entirely.

Her legs feel heavy when she stands. Her shoulders even more so.

But she stands anyway.

Because the game is coming, and the lights are already on, and the moment is already here whether she’s ready or not. And maybe she’s not. Maybe she never really is. But that’s never stopped her before.

She walks toward the locker room. Doesn’t look back.

Not because she isn’t thinking about it. But because she’s learned that sometimes the only way through is forward.

And right now, forward is the only thing she has.

PAIGE DOESN'T REALLY know how to describe what she's feeling.

It's not nerves. Not exactly. It's not sadness, either. It's more like something pressing lightly against her chest from the inside, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her it's there.

She's been to a few UConn games this season—sat courtside at Gampel, hugged Geno, posed for pictures with little girls in number five jerseys, smiled when people said they missed watching her play here. Those nights were easy. Fun, even. Familiar in that sweet, untouchable way memory can be when you've had enough time to look back on it without flinching.

But this? This is different.

It's April. This is the national championship.

She wasn't able to be here Friday for the Final Four, had some Verizon commercial she had to film in LA. She flew into Phoenix yesterday afternoon, a little exhausted. Sort of emotionally disoriented. But ready, she thought, to be here.

She hadn't really expected it to feel like this.

It's halftime, and she's sitting in the alumni section, her legs spread, hair slicked back, wearing a vintage UConn jersey and jeans. Nika's on her right, talking animatedly to Aaliyah about one of the last plays before the buzzer. Aubrey's on her left, she and Paige previously talking about what Sue and Diana asked the blonde while on the Bird and Taurasi show during the first quarter. In front of them, there's Stewie and Maya and Phee and Tina Charles. Basically the whole family tree in one row.

Paige should feel lucky. She knows that. She is lucky. She played for this program. She has her ring. She got the ending she always wanted.

But she also knows that the court is twenty feet in front of her, and she's not on it. And no matter how many former players surround her, it doesn't make this part feel any less strange.

She was here last year. Not just present—playing. In uniform. On the hardwood. In the game. She remembers the way her jersey clung to her skin by the third quarter, the way her body hummed under the lights, the MVP chants that rung out as she stepped to the free throw line for the last time, the roar of the crowd blurring into white noise when she locked eyes with Jo across the halfcourt line. She remembers everything. She remembers how it felt to want something for that long and finally get it.

And now she's on the other side of it.

Now, she's a spectator.

And the team she used to lead is doing just fine without her.

They're up by seventeen at the half. Jo's already got twelve points and seven assists. Azzi's hit three threes in a row. Sarah and Serah are relentless. UConn is suffocating Texas—calm, surgical, expected.

And Paige is proud. She is. She's proud in that bone-deep, chest-aching kind of way that doesn't always feel good but still feels real. She's been watching Jo all season—on TV, on social media, on YouTube highlight reels. National Player of the Year. Finalist for the Wooden and the Naismith. The best guard in college basketball.

And, of course, Paige wanted to reach out. Say congratulations. Say I knew you would.

But she didn't.

Because she didn't know how.

It's not like they ended on bad terms. If anything, that was the problem. There were no screaming matches, no betrayal, no ugly last text to read and reread and assign blame to. Just one small fight, that kind that had too many layers to name, that started as one thing and became something else entirely. They were both exhausted. The travel, the time zones, the pressure. Jo was flying back to Connecticut after one of Paige's home games in Dallas, and neither of them wanted to say the thing first—but someone did. Maybe Paige. Maybe Jo. One of them said we should take a break, and the other didn't fight it.

And that was it.

Jo got on her flight. Paige stayed in her apartment and stared at the TV on mute for three hours, then turned her phone off for two days.

They haven't talked since.

It was almost surreal, how quiet it was. Like the absence of noise became the noise. No texts. No calls. No drama. Just... nothing.

Paige thinks, sometimes, that she might've preferred if it had been messy. At least then there would've been something to hold onto—anger, maybe. Or closure. Or something. But instead, it just dissolved. A slow fade. Like fog disappearing in the sun. One day they were in love, and the next day they weren't.

Except—Paige isn't really sure that's true. She doesn't think you stop loving someone just because you don't talk to them. She thinks love gets buried, maybe. Or pressed down beneath everything else—schedules, expectations, distance, fear.

Or maybe that just applies to her, and everything she's been doing since July.

God, she really needs to get things together before the draft.

She shifts in her seat, elbows on her knees now, watching Jo jog back onto the court with the team for warmups. Her expression is unreadable, steady. She's like that a lot—neutral exterior, but every emotion under the surface working double-time. Paige used to be able to see it all. Used to read Jo like her favorite book.

Now, she doesn't know what page she left on. Doesn't know if Jo's even thought about her today. Probably not. It's a championship game. She has enough on her mind.

Still, Paige finds herself gripping the fabric of her jersey tighter. Her fingers catch the hem, tug, release, tug again. She doesn't realize she's doing it until Nika bumps her shoulder lightly and goes, "You good?"

Paige nods. "Yeah," she says, voice flat. Then, clears her throat. "Just... thinkin'."

Nika watches her for a second longer than necessary, like she wants to say something else, but then she lets it go and turns her attention back to the court.

Paige exhales, swallowing down whatever that was.

She adjusts her jersey, slouches deeper into her seat, and lets her eyes follow Jo.

She still wears the same number. Same ankle tape. Same dutch braids. But she looks older now. More mature, like she's figured some things out.

Paige wonders, suddenly, where the necklace is. The one they used to pass back and forth, would clasp around each other's necks with practiced fingers, staying steady.

Obviously, she knows Jo isn't wearing it now. But maybe it's in a pocket somewhere. In her bag. Close, even if unseen.

Or maybe it's nowhere at all.

Paige stares at the court and feels something settle low in her chest. Not jealousy or longing. Just an ache.

Because Jo looks like she belongs out there. She always has.

And Paige is trying to figure out where she belongs now.

In this seat? In this role? In this version of her life where she’s no longer on the court as a husky, no longer part of the five on the floor, no longer the person Jo turns to before the game starts?

The buzzer sounds. The third quarter is about to begin.

Paige sits up straighter. Folds her hands in her lap. Watches the ball go inbounds.

And tells herself, over and over again, to just be happy for her.

Just be proud. Just be still.

Just… be.

Luckily for her, it takes less than a minute for the air in the arena to shift, and she can focus back in on the game without emotions clouding her thoughts. Texas scores once, then again. KK turns the ball over on a rushed pass, and suddenly the gap that felt like a comfortable chasm is just seven points wide.

Paige sits up a little straighter in her seat, shoulders tensing, hands curling into the hem of her hoodie without her realizing it.

She’s not worried. Not really. She knows this team. Knows the way they snap back when someone tries to challenge them. Jo’s on the floor, calling a play—nothing rattled in her face, nothing tentative in the way she moves. And Azzi’s heating up again. The response is fast, clinical. Within two minutes, UConn goes on a run that leaves Texas gasping. By the time the fourth starts, the lead is twenty-two. The crowd roars like they know it’s over.

It should feel like a relief.

Paige tries to let it.

The girls look good. Not just talented—happy. Loose. The kind of joy that only comes when everything’s clicking. The kind that feels like flight. She watches Jo high-five Azzi after a corner three, the grin on her face wide and toothy and real, the kind that used to crack through even the worst days. Jo’s got twenty-three. Sarah’s everywhere. Even Caroline, who rarely shows anything outside the lines, is grinning wide.

Paige leans back. Tries to match the energy. Tries to be nothing but proud.

But there’s still something low and heavy in her chest. Something that’s been there the whole game, even before tipoff, even before warmups. A weight she’s been carrying all season without really knowing how to put it down.

She wants to be out there. Not in a bitter way. Not in some I should be playing instead kind of way. But in that aching, cellular way. The way your body remembers a rhythm it’s no longer part of. The lights, the pace, the sweat, the noise. The belonging.

She catches Aubrey’s eye for a moment—barely a flicker—and she knows immediately that she feels it too. That shared sting of being on the outside of something you used to be. It's not sadness. It's not regret. It’s just… absence. Felt at full volume.

And then it happens.

There are two minutes. Texas is scrambling. Jo picks off a lazy pass from Rori Harmon at the top of the key and pushes, fast. She wants the layup, but the angle's bad. Paige can see it immediately. There's no clean lane to the rim. The help defense is already collapsing.

Jo tries to stop, plant.

And Paige sees it before it even finishes happening.

That stutter in her movement. That slight give. Her right leg—no, left this time—buckles, just barely. Just enough. Enough that when Rori barrels into her, it doesn't take much. They crash together, both of them tumbling to the floor.

The arena gasps. A whistle blows. Rori scrambles up.

Jo doesn't.

For a second—maybe half—Paige tells herself it's fine. That Jo's just milking the foul. That she landed funny but she's okay. That she's being cautious. But then Azzi's there. And KK. And Jana. Caroline drops to her knees. They're forming a wall around her.

And Jo is still on the ground.

Paige doesn't realize she's holding her breath until, next to her, she hears Nika whisper, "Oh my God." Her voice isn't panicked. It's knowing.

And then, of course, because broadcasts are always so goddamn insensitive, the big screen shows the replay.

Paige doesn't want to watch, but she needs to see.

Jo drives. Tries to stop. The knee gives. Her body jolts forward like a marionette with its strings yanked. Rori collides into her side. They crash. And even though the impact looks relatively harmless, even though Jo doesn't scream or twist or writhe, Paige knows.

It's the plant. The bend. The split second where everything in her lower half went in opposite directions.

She's seen it before.

She's felt it before.

Her stomach drops. Not in a dramatic, falling-through-the-floor way, but in that slow, cold sickness that moves from the back of your throat to the base of your spine. She swallows it, fails. Her fingers are numb. Her skin prickles. The roar of the crowd has disappeared completely, or maybe it's just that she can't hear it anymore.

She cranes forward, searching past the tangle of jerseys, the frantic movement of trainers and teammates. She catches one glimpse—just one—of Jo's face.

Tears, lips pressed tight together like she's trying not to make a sound, hands on her knee.

No. No, no, no.

Janelle is sprinting across the court now, but Paige already knows what she'll find. This isn't a maybe. It's not a hard fall or a cramp or a sprain. This is it.

And she thinks Jo probably knows it too.

She's felt this before. They both have.

Paige's body is rigidly still in her seat. Her heart is somewhere in her gut. The girls around her are quiet—Nika's hand is over her mouth, Lili is shaking her head, Aubrey's eyes are wide and wet. No one is saying anything. There's nothing to say.

The game doesn't matter anymore.

UConn will still win. The lead is too big. Texas is too rattled. But Paige doesn't care. She doesn't think anyone here does.

They’re helping Jo sit up now, arms looped around her shoulders. She’s crying, her face red and streaked and devastated. Paige wants to go to her. Wants to crawl over the rows and down to the court, past the security guards and cameras and people she no longer plays beside, and just—be there.

She decides she will. Even if they haven't talked in months, and Paige has no idea where they stand, or how the draft might change them.

She's going to be there because she needs to. Because she has to. Because she wants to.

JO KNOWS what it is.

She knows before she even hits the floor. Before Rori's weight lands across her hip, before her knee finishes folding under her, before the pain can even bloom fully in her brain. It's instant. Nuclear. That small, horrifying click in her body—more like a pop that doesn't echo, but settles. Like something giving up. Or giving out.

It's the same.

Exactly the same.

She doesn't scream aloud, but she feels her whole body cry out for her. The blood flushes hot into her face. Her hands claw for her knee like maybe she can hold it together physically, like maybe pressure will reverse the thing that just happened. The tears come fast, uninvited. She's only cried a couple times on the court in front of a crowd, and she hates it every time.

But she supposes it's valid, because her world has just cracked in two, and it's terrifying how fast she knows.

Those three little letters—ACL.

Again.

The first time was just before her junior year of high school. She was seventeen and bulletproof until she wasn't. It happened during a summer AAU tournament, one of those meaningless games that only mattered because of who was in the stands. College coaches everywhere. A full gym. She remembers the court being slick from the game before, the sweat not quite dry, the way her shoe didn't fully catch when she pivoted. She'd gone for a behind-the-back crossover and planted too wide. Her knee twisted on itself like a wet cloth. She felt it snap in the silence between steps.

Back then, she didn't believe it at first. She'd told herself it was just a sprain. She iced it that night, elevated it, told her parents she'd be fine for the next day. But in the morning, she couldn't walk. And when the MRI came back, it said what she already knew deep down. Torn.

She remembers locking her bedroom door and crying. Not because of the pain, but because everything she'd been building—every offer, every ranking, ever rep—suddenly felt like it was slipping through her fingers. Like she had been halfway up the ladder and someone just kicked it out from under her.

This time, it's worse.

Because now she's twenty-two. Now, she's just finished playing the best basketball of her life. Now, the national championship game is over—UConn crowned again—and she's not out there. She's not in the photos, not hoisting the trophy, not riding the high with everyone else. She's in the back of the arena, in some grey-walled, windowless medical room that smells like antiseptic and old leather and sweat.

There's an ice wrap squeezing the hell out of her knee. She can't stop shaking, even though she's not cold. Her body's just... flooded. Heat, pain, adrenaline. All of it burning through her like wildfire.

The doctors haven't said anything definite yet. They won't until the MRI. Everyone keeps hedging—"We'll see," "Let's not jump ahead,"—but Jo's not stupid. She knows her body. She knows that joint. It's a rerun with a worse ending.

Caroline is next to her, sitting in one of the plastic chairs with her hand on Jo's back, rubbing soft circles that Jo barely feels. The game ended not long ago. Jo can hear the muffled echo of the band through the hallway. Shouting. Screaming. Celebrating.

Her teammates are out there, and she's back here blinking back tears she doesn’t want anyone to see anymore.

And it’s not just the pain. It’s not even just the injury.

It’s the sudden realization that this was her last college game, and she didn’t get to finish it.

And yeah, technically, they won. She won. National champions again. And they just informed her she's the MOP—Most Outstanding Player. A little paper with the box score printed on it still sits on the tray table beside her, like a consolation prize. Twenty-three points. Ten assists. Three steals.

And it still feels hollow.

She tells herself to be grateful. She is grateful. But her body betrayed her in the final two minutes of the final game of her college career, and right now, it's hard not to feel like something huge has been stolen.

She doesn't want to be alone. Not really. But she also doesn't want Caroline to miss this—her last UConn celebration, too.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

Jo sits up, startled slightly. Carol moves to open it.

Jo can't see who it is, but she watches Caroline step into the hall, hears a muffled exchange. She strains to make out words, but they're too quiet. She leans forward a bit, bracing her weight on her good leg, heart inexplicably thudding faster.

Caroline comes back in, shutting the door behind her. She walks right over, and, without saying anything, wraps her arms around Jo's shoulders and hugs her tightly. Jo presses her forehead to Carol's chest for a second, overwhelmed, grateful.

And then Caroline whispers into her hair: "I'm gonna go. She wants to talk to you. It's gonna be okay."

Jo doesn't ask who the "she" is. She already knows.

Caroline leaves with a final squeeze of Jo's hand, soft fingers slipping away too quickly, and the door clicks shut behind her with a quiet, final sound. Jo barely exhales. She just stares at the closed door for a second too long, every muscle in her body clenched tight like she's bracing for impact.

And then Paige walks in.

She doesn't say anything, doesn't have to. She just steps inside like she's not sure if she's allowed to be here—but she is, and they both know it.

Jo lifts her head, their eyes catching, blue on brown.

For a second, everything stands still. Not in a poetic, cinematic way—just in that awful, suspended reality kind of way. Like a wire has been stretched between them and neither of them can figure out how to touch it without getting electrocuted.

Jo's throat goes dry. Her knee is screaming. Her body feels like it's made of glass and cotton and static. Paige looks the same and completely different. Her hair is in a slick back, but Jo can see that it looks shorter, brighter. She must've just gotten it done. Her eyes look more cerulean than normal, like they get when she's on the verge of tears. Her pale face is flushed pink, cheeks rosy.

Jo doesn't even get a word out, because then it all crashes, like something inside her just snaps loose.

She tries to hold it—she really tries—but it's too much. It's everything. The pain, the panic, the end of her UConn career. The season that was supposed to end in joy, not a stretcher. The way her knee felt when it gave. The way KK cried when they carried her off. The way no one knew what to say. The ache in her gut. The guilt for not being on the court with her team when the buzzer sounded. The hollow pit where the adrenaline used to be. The raw, empty weight of Paige being here but also not being hers.

Her chest folds in, her shoulders shake. And, suddenly, she's sobbing. Ugly, hiccupping, gasping sobs that almost hurt more than her knee. Sobs that she hasn't let herself cry in months, not when she left Paige's apartment in Dallas, not when she tried something new and couldn't think of anything but blonde hair and blue eyes, not even when the trainers helped her off the floor and into the tunnel.

Now. Now, when she can't even talk. Now, when all she can do is feel.

And then Paige is there.

Like she never left. Like no time has passed.

She crosses the room fast and sinks down to the edge of the table Jo's on, arms wrapping around her like it's instinctual—because it is. Her body curves around Jo's. One hand cups the back of Jo's neck, the other pulling her in tighter. She smells like her cologne and laundry detergent and Paige. Her grip is steady, warm, unrelenting.

Jo melts into her instantly, everything inside of her giving. The same way her knee did, except this time, it's her heart, her chest, her ribs folding in around the place where Paige still lives. She clutches the back of Paige's jersey, fists curling tight, forehead pressed to the crook of her neck.

Paige just holds her, silent and still.

Jo can feel her breathing. Hears the small, careful inhale. The quiet exhale through her nose. Her chin resting lightly against Jo's hair. She feels the press of Paige's cheek to her temple. It's unbearable how familiar it is. How much it feels like home.

She doesn't know if Paige is making everything better or worse.

Because it's both.

There's too much in this room. Too many memories packed into the air, stacked against the walls like luggage no one wants to unpack. They haven't touched each other since July. Haven't spoken. Haven't even texted. Just one, long silence built on everything they never figured out how to say.

And yet, here she is.

Paige.

The person who gets her better than anyone else ever has. The only one who knows what this feels like—not just the ACL, but this. The devastation. The rage. The isolation that creeps in before the crowd even disperses. The hollow hum of your name still echoing in a stadium you didn’t get to finish in.

Jo swallows hard. Her throat is raw. Her face is wet. Her leg throbs like it’s echoing her grief.

And Paige doesn’t say a word.

She just stays.

One hand moves to Jo’s hair, smoothing it back with gentle fingers, almost like she’s afraid Jo might fall apart if she touches her too hard.

Maybe she would.

Jo closes her eyes and lets herself breathe into the place where Paige is holding her.

Eventually, the tears slow. They don't stop all at once, not like a faucet turned off, but fade in waves—shuddering exhales, a few uneven breaths, the quiet, embarrassed sniffling that comes after the storm. Jo shifts, pulling away slightly, just enough for her ribs to expand, for her to see Paige's face again.

Paige moves back too, eyes red but dry, mouth parted like she's trying to catch up to the moment.

"It's—?" she starts, voice hushed, hesitant, and doesn't even finish the question before Jo nods.

"Yeah," she says, rubbing her nose. "They haven't done an MRI or anything yet... but yeah. I know."

That lands in the space between them like a fact too heavy to be disputed. Paige nods slowly, and Jo watches the way her jaw tightens, the subtle twitch of a muscle near her temple. She looks like she might cry, too. And that shouldn’t matter, but it does. Somehow it does—that Paige is affected. That she’s still close enough to be cracked open by this.

It’s strange, being this near to her. Strange how familiar it is. How easy. Like no time has passed at all, and also like a lifetime has carved itself between them. Jo doesn’t know how to hold both things at once, so she doesn't try. She just stares. Tries to remember how to breathe.

"You should go celebrate with everyone," Jo says after a while, quieter than she intends. She looks down at her hands, limp in her lap, her bad leg still wrapped in ice, everything pulsing under her skin like a bruise. “I know how much you like that stuff. Being around everyone. You should go.”

It’s not bitterness. She means it. She doesn’t want to keep Paige here if this is out of pity. She knows what it’s like to feel tethered to someone else's pain out of guilt. She wouldn’t want that from Paige—not ever.

But Paige just shakes her head, gentle but firm.

“Do you really think there’s anywhere else I’d rather be than right here?”

Jo flinches at that. Not visibly, maybe, but enough that something cracks in her chest. She lifts her eyes and searches Paige’s face—slowly, carefully, like she’s afraid of what she might find. Paige looks back at her like she means it.

Jo swallows. “I’m not really sure what you think at all anymore.”

Paige sighs. It’s not dramatic—just soft, tired. Like something she’s been carrying is finally beginning to settle. And Jo doesn’t say anything else, because it’s true. She doesn’t know. They haven’t talked since the summer, and even then, the conversations were short, clipped, bruised with silence. She still doesn’t understand exactly how things fell apart. Just that they did. That there was distance, and then the distance became quiet, and then the quiet became unbearable.

So much not-saying leads to not-knowing.

Paige shifts a little closer. Tentative. Her knee brushes Jo’s good one. Then she reaches out and gently takes Jo’s hand—tangled fingers, the way they used to do on bus rides when they didn’t want anyone to notice. Her thumb rubs a soft line against Jo’s.

"I think..." Paige says slowly, like she's building the words as she goes, "I think that you are one of the best basketball players I have ever seen, and one of the strongest and kindest people I've ever known. I think that this whole situation fuckin' sucks and you don't deserve any of it. I think I regret everything that happened with us last summer, and I think I've missed you more than I've ever missed anyone or anything."

Jo’s heart swells painfully in her chest. She feels it push against her ribcage, hot and aching. The words hit her somewhere deep—somewhere she didn’t even realize was still open.

"I think," Paige continues, voice quiet but steady, "I'm sorry. For the silence. For everything I didn't say. And I think you need someone who's gonna be there for you. Steadily, no matter what. And I think that—if you let me—I want to be that for you again. Especially with you coming to Dallas."

Jo’s throat tightens.

It’s everything she’s wanted to hear since July. All the things she convinced herself didn’t matter, all the questions she buried beneath focus and film and the noise of a season that refused to stop for her the rotting in her heart.

But she can’t even process all of it right now. Her chest is already tightening again with a different kind of panic, a new kind of grief.

“Paige,” she says, voice cracking, “there’s no way I’m going to Dallas now.” Her hand curls around Paige’s automatically, clutching it tight. “They’re not gonna take me. Not with this. I won’t even be able to play for a year."

The tears come again. Quiet this time. Less sobbing, more unraveling. She presses her knuckles into her eyes like that might stop it from happening, but it doesn’t. Her whole body is trembling again.

Paige’s voice is gentle but certain.

“Jo,” she says, pulling Jo's hands from her face. “I promise—they’re gonna pick you anyways.”

Jo shakes her head. “They won’t. Why would they? They could take anyone else.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Paige says firmly. “It doesn’t matter if you were to miss a thousand games before you could play. You’re worth it. They know that. I know that.”

Paige leans in, slow and careful like she's afraid to break whatever fragile thing is blooming between them. Her forehead rests gently against Jo's, the heat of it familiar. One hand comes up to cup Jo's cheek, her thumb brushing soft lines under her eyes, catching the last of the tears before they can falls.

"We want you in Dallas, Joey," she says, so soft it barely registers above a whisper. "I want you in Dallas."

Joey.

The nickname flicks some quiet switch in Jo's chest.

It makes her eyes burn again, makes her throat tighten with all the things she’s felt but hasn’t said for months. It’s ridiculous how much she missed that name. It’s ridiculous how just hearing it said like that makes her feel like she’s still someone worth loving.

She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just leans in, lets her weight tilt toward Paige like her body is still smarter than her mind. Their foreheads stay pressed together, neither of them moving. Just breathing the same air for the first time in months.

And then Paige shifts slightly, pulls back with a softness that almost hurts, and reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie.

Jo watches her. Watches as she pulls something out—small, silver, catching the faint overhead light with a flicker.

The necklace.

Her necklace.

Jo’s breath catches. Her fingers twitch against her leg.

“How’d you—?” she starts, confused. It was in her bag. She tucked it away before the game.

Paige gives her a tiny, sheepish smile. “KK told me,” she says. “She’s nosy like that.”

Jo huffs something like a laugh. It’s broken around the edges, but it’s real.

Paige shifts closer on the little bench, carefully wrapping the necklace around Jo’s neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hands are steady as she hooks the clasp, fingers brushing the nape of Jo’s neck. Jo watches her the whole time, holds her gaze. Despite the color, those familiar blue eyes bring more warmth to Jo than they could ever bring ice.

When the clasp is in place, Jo looks down and presses her thumb over the silver clover. It’s cool against her skin. Familiar in a way that cracks her open.

It doesn’t feel hollow anymore. Not like it did when she kept it in her bag all season. Not like it did after the breakup, when the weight of it made her chest feel like a sinkhole. It feels different now, like it means something again.

Because Paige is the one putting it on her.

Because Paige is still the only one it was ever meant to come from.

Jo swallows thickly. Her voice is hoarse when she finally asks, “I’m really going to Dallas?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

The answer is simple, but sure. Unflinching.

Jo meets her eyes again. Searches them. Wants to ask more but doesn’t know how to frame it without sounding stupid.

So instead, she just says the thing sitting heavy on her heart. “And you’ll be there?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Paige has to be there—her rookie contract has years left, and if there’s one thing Paige has always been, it’s loyal. She’s not going anywhere.

But Jo’s not really asking about Dallas.

She’s asking about everything else. About showing up. About staying. About not leaving when things get hard. She’s asking: Will you still be mine? Will you let me be yours again? Can we find our way back?

Paige doesn’t rush her response. She just nods, slower this time, her hand coming to rest over Jo’s where it still clutches the necklace.

“Yeah, Joey,” she says, quieter. Like it’s a vow.

Their fingers knot together. Jo doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t need to.

There’s a long silence, but it’s the kind that settles instead of stretches. The kind that feels full rather than empty. Outside the room, the celebration goes on without them. But Jo stays right where she is—wrapped in something that’s starting to feel like peace.

And a week later, when her name is called first at the WNBA Draft—even though she’s in a knee brace, even though she’s on crutches, even though she won’t step onto a court for months—Jo makes her way across the stage and holds up her Dallas jersey with trembling hands and something like disbelief lighting up her face.

Backstage, Paige is there waiting. She doesn’t say anything right away. Just steps into Jo’s space like she’s always belonged there and wraps her in a hug that lingers a little longer than necessary. Jo holds on just as tight. Tighter, maybe.

And in that moment, with her whole future ahead and her past still somehow intact, Jo thinks that things might just end up okay after all.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #nobody gets me #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #wlw #wnba #wnba x oc #dallas wings

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shizuu-chann · 3 days ago

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Replaying DA: Veilguard, I've seen a couple posts and articles with comments underneath recently discussing the "failure" of the game. There were several people on Reddit, surprisingly, who mentioned they waited a while to play Veilguard and they're genuinely shocked at the hate it got. Yes, there are valid criticisms to be had, but as a general rule it's a pretty good game! In my opinion, at least, and I'll die on this hill. As a long time DA fan, while it wasn't exactly what I wanted, I enjoyed what I got and my only regret is that we'll probably never get another sequel bc of the negative review-bombing...

But that's not the point of this post. On one of those articles, I saw a comment where someone mentioned that Veilguard hit a lot of their marks, but they thought the companions were flat and that they couldn't get attached to them, and I just don't get that at all, lol.

I adore Inquisition, I've played it the most out of all the other games (primarily bc I had it for PS4 and my PS3--for Origins and 2--is slow, like, holy fuck), but thinking back on it, I feel closer to Veilguard's companions than Inquisition's if I'm just talking about surface-level things you learn about them all throughout the games they're in. Don't get me wrong, I love DAI's companions! But idk, it feels a little more like Veilguard's companions have more autonomy and purpose/goals than Inquisition's. And yes, I know that Inquisition's companions have goals and opinions and their own reasons for joining the Inquisition, etc, it just feels different. Not better or worse, I suppose, but different. That could also be a product of the plot being vastly different, but still.

Regardless, that random person commenting that about Veilguard's companions threw me bc I just cannot relate. Do I wish certain romances were a little more fleshed out and were more integrated into the story so it actually felt like my OCs are romantically involved? Yes, absolutely. But I am also happy with the game as is. I could nitpick every game I have ever played, but I still love them. I just don't understand why all games must now be Masterpieces to be considered even just good. Veilguard was good, it just wasn't perfect or the game of the year. Why does being a ~7/10 equal "bad"?

Fuck EA, for many things but especially for favoring Mass Effect over Dragon Age (they're both excellent, stop pitting bad bitches against each other), and fuck everyone who just wanted to see the game fail bc it wasn't what they wanted. I'm so sad there will probably never be more DA... Fan fiction will have to do.

#just rambling #a thought i had that i needed to get out #and no one in my life plays dragon age or at least gives as much of a fuck about it as me #personal #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #datv #dav #dragon age the veilguard

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midnight1nk · 1 day ago

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So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

OH BOY, here we go again!! A bit late but I have returned for the latest episode, and lucky for me, I haven't seen any spoilers and not even the thumbnail....

*turns to Team* why is the Castle in the background? Wha? HUH?

(the following is my live reaction:)

ay, the intro!! it never gets old for me 💙 that's my beloved Saturday Morning Cartoon (TM)

looks like we're continuing on from the last one, if it's what I'm assuming here

I gotta say, quite convenient to have a bunch of stuff at their disposal. not that I'm surprised ofc, haha

also in this household, we respect Toomp! (I mean, have you seen the list of crimes he did. Got the queen, that's for sure)

wait, is that…. deltarune chapter 3 music? no, like I swear it is!! heh, I suppose the Team was gonna use this track sooner or later (who can resist tv time?)

I mean, I already suspected Puzzles made her own robotic body, sooooo she ain't wrong

Puzzles: "No matter how dangerous it may be, it's a risk I'm willing to have you take." *WHEEZE*

Ah, looks like WPNZ did manage to get to the junkyard

He's just standing there. MENACINGLY. <- WPNZ, probably

(c'mon, dude. Toomp's just a silly lil guy ^^)

waitwaitwait, hold your horses!! we're not going let that pass by and not talk about it

"death cube"? well, that's new. The only other cube-related thing I could remember at the moment, was the one 4 and Mario were in (the gamecube 2 one)

Was this what Meggy saw in the sentencing? I mean, it's pretty obvious that the tv literally says "sentenced to death cube" but y'know. gotta think about the possibilities here, especially for me

#RespectForToomp (and watch him being the most important character for at least this arc)

dude, it's a junkyard. Not exactly a five-star quality workshop /lh

PUZZLES, YOU DIDN'T KNOW??!?!?

also hi Pauline (love that she's back in the show after so many years, but it conveniently works out in my OC lore, that being they're related/connected to Pauline ^^)

that's shadowy figure is the death cube? oh, I thought it was a contraption but that makes it way worse, huh

WOAHWOAHWOAH hold up

Puzzles' dialogue text is glitching?

Technically it wouldn't be the first time glitching happens to Puzzles when overwhelmed, most recently being WOTFI '24. The text tho, that's interesting. hmmmmm [Transcript added to the Court Record]

Puzzles: "YOU CAN'T RUSH ART" <- true true 😌↕️ (I pretty much say that about my 20+ WIPs)

THE MARIO BALLOON BODY *WHEEZE* I just imagine WPNZ being held onto by a single string... and potentially floating away

why do I feel like the child of divorce here? /silly

uh. anyway, I present to you this:

la creatura :)

(but I gotta say, what a great scene)

WPNZ: "Hah! You tell 'im, slimeball" aw, that was actually sweet. I mean, look at toomp, he looks so happy like "^^"

whoop, so that's why Puzzles disconnected

A phone call? Is it Meggy?

FRENCH 🫵

IT'S MEGGY

how on earth did the Team capture my phone-call-anxiety perfectly with that? /lh

ah, so it was that. Makes sense, being death row and all. Crazy that Hal came up with this idea, but then again, this isn't the SMG4 universe which you can't exactly "die" the normal way

now, about Meggy's scene here. I do have thoughts about (which ofc I'll talk about them later) but I will say this: I stand by what I said previously about mixed feelings and I do understand what Meggy's doing, while still concerned about meeting up at the Castle. But in the good sense, this arc has me invested

back to the plot in hand... *toomp looming over wpnz* oh hey toomp!

ough, that was like a punch right in the gut

like it really hits when you start learning about the complexities for not only WPNZ but Puzzles too, especially if you were around the time reading the redemption talks I posted

AND and, even more that WPNZ truly opened up about his emotions like that, to Puzzles who he just met for at least a few days

THAT LOOK, I gotta say that wowed me

Puzzles doesn't exactly know how to express her emotions, that much is true, and certainly wouldn't know how to respond to what WPNZ said. The last part, specifically, considering y'know. Puzzles' past. She wouldn't be fond of remembering it so I can see this as coping(??). For the very least, Puzzles could tell that WPNZ meant it tho

back to expressing emotions thing, a lot of characters reacting to Puzzles' said action are confused by it. Or they don't even care at all. WPNZ, other than Leggy ofc, reacted differently. Positive, almost like he's charmed by it

(checking up on the gunshow shippers: how yall doing?)

ALSO also wait, did Puzzles say "play"? It may be a coincidence by the writers themselves, and maybe that's my theorist mind sounding the alarms as usual. But I am also reporter, and I don't forget about the teasers the Team posted

"but the play has just begun" they somehow brought this back, the teaser was relevant after all. I gotta say, Team: well played, either way

so enough about be rambling, let's get back to work!! *passes out dead tired*

oh hey toomp :) I suppose it's time to execute that idea he was holding onto

"I don't trust him" and I would go to war for him, so what? also no need to jump the gun that early (ba dum tsss, I'm not funny)

Puzzles saying "young man" and WPNZ surprised by the talent truly has me convinced that Toomp's their son now ADJK;JKL

break-out time? 👀

"one more task"? perhaps one more episode (before the movie)? :D

oh boy, here we go!!

Puzzles: "Sure...pal" oop, is that complex emotions I see? conflicted thoughts, hmmmm??

YOU CAN'T JUST END IT THERE, I WANT MORE!!

Congrats to BerzackLike for your art being featured at the end credits!! 🎉 fantastic fanart btw ^^

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Yet another banger episode!! Team, it was so well done, especially the writing. I love the dynamic between our villain team. That recurring bit with Toomp appearing more and more menacing really got me crackling. Some of the lines got to me tbh.

also, gunshow shippers: how were yall holding up? 💙

And y'know me, I've been doing a bit of theorising myself. Some curious stuff indeed. I gotta say: the arc has been going pretty solid so far, props to the Team for that.

So... about Meggy and my thoughts on that particular scene. Immediately after watching that scene, I could sense that there was gonna be some discourse over it. Not only did some of it return from the "Split" episode, but also bc Meggy set the meet-up at the Castle. As a long-time viewer of the show and one to talk about character exploration, I do want to share my perspective on it and hopefully, it'll help some of yall understand it too.

And for our sakes, I'll leave the first part of the scene bc I think it's absolutely crucial:

Yall must know the biggest part of all this, and it bears repeating it: Things aren't as black and white as they seem. They're complex, even complicated/conflicting at times, and we tend to forget that people can have mixed feelings about certain people. This, just as good storytelling pursues, is grounded in reality. Sure, these characters are fictional and it's a silly lil meme show, but viewers can resonate with the characters bc they can see themselves in them. Perhaps having mixed feelings for someone isn't something everyone can resonate with, but for some it does. To feel seen, to feel understood.

I can tell you, from personal experience, I have mixed feelings for certain people in my life. Some have done unforgivable things, others I'm willing to give a second chance to. Ultimately, while I can offer as much help as I can, the choice to change is up to them. After all:

redemption ≠ forgiveness ≠ forgetting

Now, back to Meggy, I've seen people's reactions over this. Believe me, a lot was toxic, saying that "she was stupid for meeting up at the Castle" or "how could she forgive Puzzles after all the pain she went through" <- and that's just the lighter stuff. So, here I say it: Meggy considering (which isn't outright "accepting the job") to be legal rep for Puzzles DOES NOT MEAN she forgives him. As she said, she needs proof that he's changed and only then, she can accept the job. One consultation. Besides, it's not like they're gonna go their jolly way and everything will turn out happily ever after. Puzzles still has to face the consequences, she said so herself. On that note, in this ask I answered previously from my inbox, I have talked about her consideration and character if yall wanna know more.

"Why would she set the meet-up? Couldn't she tell he was faking it?"

She wants the truth, and it isn't the same getting it through a call or a video. It'll have to be face-to-face, and I can imagine it that once she does, she'll make her choice. As she said, no tricks or schemes. The truth, just as it is. While she is offering a chance for Puzzles to prove himself, there is a difference between "receiving help" and "wanting help". Again, that choice to change, it falls on Puzzles.

"Why would she do it at the Castle? Why not in prison, where it's more secure?"

While it is concerning, I can understand why she might've done it. Her last encounter with Puzzles was when she was home alone, and after the trauma she went through being forced to be Leggy, her home's out of the question. Now prison wouldn't be a problem except for one: no one knew about the deal she had with Leggy. Maybe there are some hurdles she can go through to meet a potential client in death row, but if someone finds out she was meeting with Puzzles, they might tell the others. The Castle isn't a bad option, and I could imagine Meggy waiting until 4's out for the day or something. There would be plenty of space, someplace where she's comfortable in, and the Crew would be nearby if things went south. I mean she was careful enough to have her number as "private ID". Yes, it could be understandable, but it is concerning too. Meggy is going behind her friends' backs and likely bc it'll be hard to explain why she's doing it for them to understand. And then on top of that, she lied about not doing the deal with Leggy at all. I had a sense that it's gonna spiral out of control and the Crew might misinterpret it, ironically how the audience toxic discourse has been talking about it. And worst of all, if 4 found out about it. Next to Meggy, 4 went through so much trauma and pain so to see that one of your friends invited the person who caused said thing into your own home, I could see him feeling betrayed. Therefore, causing a rift in the Crew when they need to be more open and understanding.

Also concerning that (1) the Puzzle Park rides 4 got are stored somewhere in the Showgrounds and are the same ones with a goo, (2) Puzzles is certainly aware of the Castle's layout/electricity grid bc of the PV saga, and (3) WPNZ, who Meggy never met, probably believed it is an actual hut on the Crew. Again, it's a "they don't know what we know" kinda thing.

This meeting is going to go wrong somehow, and eventually what happened at the start of the arc is gonna circle back now. Which also means Meggy might face some repercussions for it. What can I say, it's complex, and it's what's getting me invested in the arc!! I know it's what the Team intended too, ever since the end of SOTC:

"Character exploration", it's what the Team are doing with this arc too, with complexity of redemption and characters. Well, these are my thoughts, but I'd say: LET THEM COOK

I tried my best to explain it the way I see it, and do hope it isn't me going about it in circles. Again, while there are actions I don't condone and believe in accountability, it's understandable why. Regardless, I am very excited about the rest of the arc and I honestly don't know what to expect so I can't say I got expectations at the moment. Other than the security cam, but yall know me already. That's all I have, I'll see yall in the next one, and remember: numbers always go first.

....but seriously, I can't be the only one hung up on the security camera from the last episode.

Like, are we not gonna talk about this? Why would the Team do an ominous shot on that cam if it's not gonna be relevant? Something's up, and I swear it's gonna be another "that door..." situation for me. No, I don't need an intervention—

#smg4 #smg4 spoilers #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4 mr wpnz #smg4 toomp #smg4 meggy #ink reviews #we love to see character complexity (and redemption talk)#also is that conflicting thoughts I see? 👀#(also also sorry it took forever. needed to find the right words aside from what already said)

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iikissagirl · 2 days ago

Text

crush

lando norris x famous f!oc

summary: lando has had a crush on bella since she first appeared on his tv six years ago, when his friends found out they never stop bothering.

a/n: i love fluff lando, hope you like thiss. first ever one shot about him.

masterlist

it started in 2019, he wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, just something to watch durning the evening. all he did was scroll on hbo looking for anything at that point.

in his mind suddenly an idea popped up. one of his friends had recommended to him a new series called euphoria. he wasn’t really the type of guy to watch a full series but he could watch the first chapter and see if he likes it or not.

he pressed the watch button on the screen and he focussed on the tv.

yeah, he got caught up, but fifteen minutes into the first chapter and his life changed. that was the first time he saw her. her profile on the screen, dark brown hair with a side part “do you think my areolas look weird?” were the first words that came out of her mouth.

he was completely smitten with her, and then she turned around her breasts on display his face burn with shyness like it was something forbidden to see.

that's when he knew he had a crush on her.

he watched all the episodes just to see her, all he wanted was to see her again on his screen.

the first thing he did after the first chapter was done he looked up in his phone was euphoria’s cast, there she was, a beautiful picture of her and her name bellow that bella calloway, that night all he did was look for her information.

she was one year younger than him, she had an older brother and she was really into cars according to her instagram highlights. he followed right away.

time passed and his crush just got bigger, he had seen every movie or series she’s been on, and they were not a small amount. a month into the crush thing he saw that she started following him on instagram, he almost fainted and carlos never stopped bothering him.

he never messaged her, only liked her posts of her —that were once in a lifetime— and the stories of cars that she posted with more frequency; he wondered if they were hers.

one day after a while carlos made lando’s crush public. it was durning a press conference, lando was asked who was his favorite actor or actresses and he said her name, “yeah, he is obsessed with her, he has seen all her stuff and he think she is very, very pretty” lando’s cheeks lighted up, pink with embarrassment.

the clip went viral and all lando could wish was that she never saw it, but of course bella did, her friends sent it to her, fans tagged her every time they saw the video and she only thought that he was handsome as well.

years happened and even though lando saw people his crush never went away. everyone on the grid bothered him with it and with time he stopped being flustered but he accepted his faith. he did have a very big crush on her.

more movies and series of her came out and she became an A list actress, she won awards, very important ones, but she never stopped posting car photos and she never stopped liking his posts.

one day she was invited to the paddock, the miami grand prix. he wasn’t shocked that bella was going to the miami one and not other, at the end that one was were most famous people went. but oh god, he almost fainted when he found out that maclaren invited her.

the first time he saw her was on saturday, she was wearing light baggy jeans and a black tight t-shirt. white nike sneakers and on top of her beautiful dark brown hair a cap, an orange cap with the number four on it.

he could have fainted and oscar catched the way lando was staring at her while taking pictures with fans.

“stop staring” oscar said.

“‘m not” lando turned his head to see his teammate in the same clothes as him, black jeans and a maclaren t-shirt.

“yeah, you were, almost drooling and all” a little smile was on the australian lips.

before lando could say anything, a voice cut the air. “hey, guys” lewis voice made both of them look in his direction only to notice that he wasn’t alone.

lando knew her and lewis were some kind of friends, being in campaigns together or premiers or awards galas, and lando was also well aware that lewis —and her— knew about his crush.

the younger british looked at her, she was shorter than he imagined —compared to him—, and her skin looked even more soft than in his dreams. “this is bella,” lewis pointed at her, “this is oscar and lando” he pointed at them.

“i’m pretty sure you know this one” oscar cracked a joke that made the three of you laugh but lando almost choked with anything. “nice to meet you” the australian extended his hand towards her and they shook hands.

“nice to meet you too” in bella’s face was a genuine smile plastered. her eyes made contact with lando, who hasn’t said anything the whole time, “nice to meet you as well, lando”

he could swear that if she wasn’t there he would be kicking his feet and twirling his hair. “yeah, very nice to meet you” he had the biggest smile both of the drivers there have ever seen.

of course the voice ran, everyone that knew lando knew about his interaction with bella. the drivers heard the story from lewis and oscar’s mouth, all of them laughing, and the fans knew from two sources. one, a video a fan filmed from afar, in which you can see the whole interaction and of course, lando’s face, and the other source was carlos, he said briefly in an interview that he was told that his friend almost fainted when he met his crush.

bella saw everything with a smile on her face, she could also have a —way more small— crush on the driver. she thought about what to do while watching the qualifying laps, maybe ask for his phone number or something like that.

when lando got out of the car and did all the stuff he had to do, they found each other again, they both were walking to the parking lot. she stopped to take a photo with a fan and the same fan asked him as well.

“hey” bella greeted him, “that was a good quali” she said with a smile while they walked together.

“yeah, kinda” he rubbed the back of his neck. “do you watch formula 1 or is it a one time thing?”

“oh no, i do watch it every time i can” the smile on her face never faded. “but not as much as you watch my movies” she teased.

his cheeks got pink and he chuckled. “i don’t do that” he denied, lying of course.

“carlos told me you do, he did a good job as your wingman” she stopped in front of a car, a chevrolet camaro SS 1968.

“he’s a liar” he pointed out.

they looked at each other for a while, she tried to hide a smile by biting her lower lip. “are you gonna ask me for my number or i’ll have to ask for it?” bella said with a big smile.

he chuckled nervously, he’s forever crush was flirting with him, he looked at the floor and the back to her eyes again. “can i have your number?”

bella bit her lower lip again and nodded.

after a couple more of a tiny chat she got in her car. she opened the window and he leaned in, “will i see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, i have a good feeling” she looked up at him.

“mhm? do i win?” his forearms supporting his weight on the frame of the window car, now less nervous and flirting back without getting red.

“yeah” bella’s smile never going away.

“see you tomorrow then, nice car by the way”

well, bet that lando will tell everybody that she —her lucky charm and his future girlfriend— predicted his first ever formula one win.

#lando norris #lando norris x oc #lando x oc #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris f1 #formula one x oc #formula 1

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chaifootsteps · 3 days ago

Note

Out of all the stories vivziepop has made I think Zoophobia is the one I'm hyperfixated on the most, there were so many things Viv planned to do with this webcomic and a ton of stuff was scrapped, I personally think Cameron is a better protagonist than Charlie (mostly show Charlie, I miss pilot charlie every day) if Viv focused on her more she probably would of reminded me of a prototype pomni. (Maybe thats just my opinion), and it's fascinating that jayjay was probably vivziepops most popular oc in her online career up until 2016, yet was an adoptable and never showed up in zoophobia, and so many other characters didn't show up in the webcomic (some of them were revived in hazbin), and I think my honest opinion about Viv being upset that she couldn't name it zootopia was that I thought zoophobia was a great name for the series, it had a charm to it and it's sad Viv couldn't see that.

Viv's always specialized in making things with a ton of missed potential. Zoophobia's fascinating and tragic because it could have so easily served as a rough, eclectic learning experience before Viv went on to better things, but of course it wasn't.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post #vivziepop critical

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diamondsinterlude · 2 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝

chapter two

pairing: Sammie Moore x OC (Robin Welkins)

word count: 3307

summary — 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘰. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 1933 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 1932.

warnings — period appropriate racism, violence, trauma, use of N-word, angst, depression, ptsd, talks of sex, (idk if I’ll write smut yet but if a chapter includes it there will be a warning) pro has spell or grammar errors

author’s note: Sorry for the wait, guys. I haven’t been feeling the best mentally lately, plus working and getting ready for classes next month. But I felt good enough to finish the chapter and get it out to you guys. Again, I do take constructive criticism because I’m not the best writer, but please be nice (I’m sensitive) hope you enjoy!

‘How could I forget to ask her name?’ All that talking on the bus and he forgot to ask her for her name! He thought about that while at work, even on the way home.

He didn’t think about how she told him she was picking up a shift for her friend until he finally got back to the apartment. So, he can’t even see her on the bus the next day because she was only picking up the shift for her friend for that day only. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she was just supposed to be a good encounter for how shit his week had been going thus far. And did he really need to be talking to a girl with the shit he’s gone through? He wakes up on the verge of a panic attack almost every other night. But the thought of not seeing her again made him a little sad.

Besides her beauty, from the short time they were talking he could see her personality a bit. She was funny, had humor, confidence, obviously if she looked him in his face then decided to sit next to him and talk. She was a nice gal, complimenting him and somehow making him comfortable. He wondered what she sounded like singing, and was her voice loud? Did she sing in a quieter tone? Or does she switch it up? Sammie thought all this, but he still doesn’t know her name.

“How was work today, Sammie?”

Finally, out of his thoughts. He looks up from his plate at the table to see Mrs. James looking at him from his side at the dinner table. He had been eating a little slower and she had noticed. I mean of course she noticed when he and her oldest usually have an unsaid contest on who will finish dinner first.

“It was decent, had a good day.” He shrugged while finally using the fork he was playing with his food with, to put some in his mouth.

“How about ’chu?”

“I had a pretty okay day, besides taking care of a sick five year old. I just cleaned around here. Made Otis’s food for his shift tonight. The baby’s been giving me that morning sick but nothing a little hot tea can’t help.” She responded to him.

“What’s morning sick?” Jojo, who was the second oldest with him being 10 had a bad habit of talking with food in his mouth. So of course, he asked this question mouth full of the cornbread his momma made for dinner that night.

“Boy what I tell you about eating with your mouth open?” She looks at him with a stern eyebrow raised.

“Sorry momma”

As she gives him a little run-down on what morning sickness is, Sammie looks over at Mr. James.

Otis didn’t really talk too much, he realized. Kind of only talked to his wife and said things here or there but mostly remained quiet. Even though he gives Sammie that side eye that makes him think he doesn’t really like him, the older man reminds him of his big cousin. Not a man of a lot of words, but more so actions. Even though Otis doesn’t speak too much, you could tell he loves his wife. Her hand rests on top of hers while they eat at the table now. He saw that with his cousin also. Didn’t talk but was somehow touching his wife, If he was near her. Makes him miss him. Even though sometimes he doesn’t think Smoke liked him also. He knows he cared about him, though. Protected him till the morning before deciding to go be with his wife and baby in death.

“Otis, honey, after we finish dinner, I’m putting the food up you want me to add any of this to your lunch?”

“Naw baby I’m good. I’m actually finna get up and start getting my stuff together for work.” Otis replies getting up and putting his empty plate in the sink.

“Mkay.” Ida goes back to finishing her plate and before heading to the bathroom Otis gives her a kiss on the head.

“I’m finished with my food momma, I even ate the beans!” Bobby replies back showing his mom his plate. There were still beans, but you can tell he ate a lot of them compared to the last time she cooked them. So, it was a start.

“Okay, it looks like you’re good. Jojo, baby, go with your brother to brush y’all teeth for bed. I’m sure Papa will let y’all in the bathroom.” She says getting up to get the empty plates off the table but leaving Sammie’s because it looks like he isn’t done.

Both of the boys run to the separate rooms to grab their tooth brushes. Bobby going to him and Sammie’s room and Jojo going to the room he shares with his parents and their baby sister. Before both boys left the apartment to go to the shared bathroom.

“Let me go get Martha so she can take her medicine and see if she’ll eat. Hopefully that will keep her good for the night.” Ida walks into the room Jojo headed out of before he left. She walks back out with a 5 year old with leant into her neck. Grabbing their homemade medicine off the counter, she sits back at the table baby sitting in her lap. She reaches for the piece of bread she left on the table for when her daughter woke up. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to stomach too much food.

“Alright Mimi baby, can you eat a little bit for mommy?” Sammie could tell that the five year old was definitely doing better than this morning but still needed at least one more night’s sleep. She looked a little sweaty but thankfully her mom had turned on the fan in the room she was sleeping in previously.

Martha peeled her eyes back, looked at her momma, and grabbed the pieces of bread from her mom before eating them. She looked tired still, and was definitely only eating it so her mom would let her go back to sleep. Finishing the bread, her mom pushed her to drink the cup of water she had on the table for her, then gave her a spoonful of medicine. The little girl winced, then grabbed the cup off the table again to get the gross taste out of her mouth. After she lay back against her mom. Once Ida heard snores, she turned her head back to Sammie again and see’s that he’s finally eating more of his food.

“So..you gonna tell me what happened today?”

“I already told yo- “

“Sammie, you still eat like a boy going through puberty. I’m gonna notice you not eating like how you usually do.”

“Nothing happened Ms. Ida.”

“Sammie.” She gave him that look that his momma would give him when she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Okay! There was a girl- “

“Ooo a girl~” adjusting the 5 year old she wiggled her eyebrows with a smile.

“It’s not even like that.” Sammie has a little smile on his face saying this

“I wanna get to know her as a friend”

“Sure, a friend~”

“I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this” He goes back to finishing off his plate.

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing, I’m listening! Tell me what she looks like.”

“Dark brown hair, brown skinned, and big brown eyes.” As he’s saying this, he’s looks up like he’s remembering her beauty. Don’t think he knows he’s doing this, but Ida sees this and smiles.

“She caught me looking at her on the bus after I noticed her humming, then she sat next to me, and we started talking.” He finished with a shrug

“Okay, so what has you in a mood then if you met a nice girl?”

“I don’t know her name.” He winced

“Sammie, you talked to the girl half of the bus ride and didn’t ask her her name??” She asked confused

“It slipped my mind somehow.”

“Okay well, just ask her for her name when you see her on the bus tomorrow.” Ida huffed

“I don’t think I will see her anytime soon...”

Eyebrow raised at that Ida asked

“And why is that?”

“…because she was just covering for her friend that was sick for the day and doesn’t even take that bus route” he winced

“Boy, I thought you were smart.”

“Sammie how the hell you knew that and still forgot to ask that girl her name, and where to find her again?”

“I know, I know, I know... wasn’t thinking”

“Obviously not.”

“We’ll all you can do is hope you see her again”

Sammie sure hopes he does.

He didn’t see her the next day or the day after that.

He just spent the next few days going about his usual schedule: work, then home, then work again. Since working at his job, he has made work friends. A lot of the men he’s worked with has been working at the factory for years. Thankfully, there were some guys around his age that worked there too. Terrance was one of them; they don’t really hang out outside of working and eating lunch together here and there. But when they did talk, they usually talked about music.

Singing himself was something Sammie didn’t do as much anymore not because he didn’t love it but the last time, he put his all into his singing he lost a lot of people in his life. So, he still sings just not much. But he missed playing his guitar, too badly he broke it on that devils head. Besides trying to put enough money up for his own place (which was hard with his pay checks) he also was saving up enough for a new guitar. Wanted to also eventually get a new one made with his old guitar handle but that will probably cost a pretty penny.

But Terrance would always say Sammie should come to this underground club for color folks that his cousin Dennis owned. It was in his big cousins basement. Basement apartment was left abandoned by the landlord and Dennis wanted to create another space in Chicago for colored people who not only loved blues music but just loved music in general. All types of talent would play at their open mics on Saturday’s. They called the place Sarah’s, which was named after Dennis’s mother who loved music also when she was still in the land of the living. Always saying that he still has an extra guitar he could borrow, it was very old, but it still worked.

When the next Friday rolled around, Terrance asked for a favor.

“I know you probably gone say no but you think you can do me a huge favor?” T asked him at lunch

“How big we talking?” Sammie responded after taking a bite of his sandwich Ms. Ida made him.

“Like I need you to play for the band tonight…”

“Man, you know- “

“Sam, I know you've been itching to pick up a guitar again! Did you tell me it’s been months since you played?” Terrance was trying to convince.

“Exactly! Months! I’m sure I’m real rusty!” He says with his hands out and shoulders shrugged trying to convey his point.

“So why don’t you just come early and practice? Dennis needs a new guitar player for the band anyways.”

“He sees you playing amazing with me and the boys, then he gives you a job. another job means more money, more money means you actually have money to save to get a place of your own or a brand new guitar!”

That does sound good. Finally having enough to get him a small place, finally being able to afford a guitar of his own. Sammie already knows his answer.

“Let me think about it.” He huffs

“Yes! That really means you’ll come!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thinking it though- oh also we playing for a girl that’s a regular at the club always preforming for open mic.”

“Pretty girl too. She lucky I told Linda I wouldn’t be with any woman beside her… anymore at least.”

After Terrence gives him the address they get off lunch and work till the late night shift people come in at 5:05pm

On the ride back home, Sammie can’t help but think about what he committed too. As long as he doesn’t sing for too long, he should be fine, he thinks. It’s just playing the guitar. No big deal.

“T, asked if I could help with this band gig with him at his cousin’s club...” Sammie was trying to get Ida to tell him that going was going to be a bad Idea, when he told her though she said

“I say do it, wouldn’t hurt you to get out the house. Life is more than working till ya die.”

To be fair, Ida didn’t know about what happened in Clarksdale, all she knew was Sammie was from Mississippi. She didn’t know that for a while he was scared to make friends because of what happened. Thought he brought death on people because of his voice.

Seeing the dubious look on his face, she added on.

“Look Sammie I know that whatever happened to you before you got to Chicago put something heavy on you, but honey you deserve to be happy! You’re 20, this is the time for you to have some fun besides work and maybe find love.

While they were talking, she was cooking dinner, she turned and faced him so he could really hear what she was saying.

“Besides, who wants to be hobbled up in an apartment with a family of five on a Saturday night?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Boy I know I’m right”

After the conversation the rest of the day went on like usual, Sammie ate with the family, then went to bed.

He went to work the same the next day with Terrance making sure he was coming that night.

“So, when you come you have to say a password to get in. The password is music on the moon. After that you will probably see some people by the stage area if you don’t see me yet just tell them who you are.”

Sam had butterflies in his stomach not the good nervous kind, but the ones where he felt like actually throwing up. What if he messed up the song? He definitely wouldn’t get the job then. Putting his fears aside, after changing into more comfortable nicer clothes he headed to the club where Terrence told him.

When he walked down some stairs to the basement club he knocked on the door and an eye slot opened looking at him.

“What’s the password?” The deep raspy voice questioned

“Music on the moon.” With that’s the door opened and he was let in.

When he walked in, he noticed there were a decent amount of people he figured more would come in once open mic started. He spotted Terrance by the stage with a couple of men. As he was walking up Terrance spotted him.

“And there’s are guitarist for the evening y’all!” As he said that everyone turned and looked at Sammie.

Terrance introduced him to all the typical band members. Then showed him the guitar that he would be using that night. It was right that the guitar was old, looked like it’s been some years since someone used it. But with a little tuning it was up to standard.

Sammie was a little rusty like he thought but a couple minutes practicing with the band he was back in action.

“See I told you, you just needed a little practice. You’re all back in shape, you got this.”

Not seeing this girl that Terrance was talking about, Sammie asked.

“Hey, where’s that girl we supposed to be playing for tonight mainly?” While strumming his guitar a little bit wanting his hand to get used to it again.

“She should been here like 10 minutes ago, I don’t know what’s taking that girl so long” Terrance responded while pausing with his own guitar to look at his watch in his pants pocket.

Then came a girl running in. She had a long purple dress with some black heels. She stopped in front of the band out of breath, trying to catch her breath with her hair covering her face.

“T! I am so sorry I’m late y’all my momma was taking her time trying to press my hair for me!” She finally looked up at that when Sammie saw his face. The songbird from the bus.

The girl felt him looking at her and she turned to him after finally catching her breath.

“Preacher boy, right?” She asked pointing at him

“Who the hell is Preacher boy?” Terrance asked, confused with his brows furrowed.

“I am, it’s a nickname.”

“Well shit you ain’t tell me about it. Thought we was boys?” Terrance had this fake hurt look on his face, but you could see his grin sitting in the corners of his mouth.

“So, if Preacher boy isn’t what your typically called anymore, what your real name?” she asked, pulling his attention at once back to her. She looked just as pretty as she was when he saw her on the bus. It was different than the work uniform. Her hair was a bit straighter, but you can tell layers of her hair were curled at the ends, adding volume to her hair a bit. That purple dress she had on only showed off a bit of cleavage, but the dress fitted to her shape just a bit. You could see her shape under the dress, she was skinny, but she had love in the right place. Finally realizing he hadn’t replied yet with how she looked at him.

“My name is Samuel Moore. But people call me Sammie.” He put his hand out for her to shake, with a smile. She smiled back, grabbing his hand for the shake and spoke.

“Robin Welkins.” After she said her name, he pulled her hand up to kiss it. He saw his cousin used to do this with women he was after all the time when he would see him. But he wasn’t after her because of what was between her legs, he just wanted to get to know her.

“How y’all know of each other anyways?”

“I met Sammie on the bus, like a week ago.”

“Oh, that’s coo, now y’all know each other. We just gotta wait for Robs turn to be called up so we can play her song for her.”

After a couple performers did their acts, some weren’t that good and got booed by a few people off the stage. It was Robin’s turn.

She stepped on to the small stage and Sammie and the rest of the band got into their places.

“How y’all doing, tonight!” The crowd responded with a yell and some clapping, place filling out more almost like people were coming just to hear her sing.

“As some of y’all already know, my name is Robin, and tonight I decided to sing y’all a little older song of mine tonight. I hope y’all enjoy.” With that, she clears her throat before singing. And man, did she sing.

The more she sang the more people danced, it was like she had put a spell on the whole room. Sammie hadn’t had this feeling in a long time. It felt like his soul was dancing to the music too. She looked so beautiful. Sammie wanted to hear her actually sing since being on the bus and man!

She sounded like an angel.

divided by strangergraphics-archive

taglist-

@massiv3tr33p3rsona @heyyimmisunderstood @notmilescaton @whysoceerious @ber-21 @cosmicautomatonshark @lollIxzzz @thesolenicole

#sinners #sinners fanfiction #love ballad #sinners 2025 #sammie moore x oc #sammie moore #black!oc #black fanfiction #preacher boy x oc #miles caton #elias stack moore #elijah smoke moore #preacher boy

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viola-verse · 17 hours ago

Text

Happy Anniversary | Suga

Pairing: Min Yoongi x wife!Soloist!OC

Summary: Yoongi & Viola celebrate their one year anniversary

Warnings: this is a complete work of fiction. Mentions of elopement, Yoongi's 'scandal' and the aftermath, his military service, foundation, having a baby. Overall just vomit inducing cheesiness and fluffy. Features a cameo from Taehyung and Jimin. A tiny bit suggestive at the end.

Word Count: 2, 386

Yooneul Moments Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Send a request | Tag List Form

Viola awakens to an empty bed, and the smell of cooking wafts through the slightly ajar bedroom door. Pulling the blankets, she gets out of bed, bare feet touching the wooden floors. Finding her sleep shorts, she pulls them on and grabs one of Yoongi's shirts off the chair in the corner of the bedroom. The shirt swims on her as puts it on and makes her way out of the bedroom.

As she enters the kitchen, she's surprised to see only Yoongi in there, standing in front of the stove as he stirs the food in the pan.

"Where is everyone?" She asks wrapping her arms around his waist and placing a kiss on his back.

"They went out for breakfast," he told her taking the pan off the heat and switching the element off before turning around to face her. "Something about wanting to give us some time alone," he cups her face in his bands and brings her in for a kiss. "Happy Anniversary."

Viola's heart fluttered at his words, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Happy Anniversary," she echoed, feeling the weight of the moment wash over her. It was hard to believe that it's already been a whole year since they took the leap and eloped while on holiday in Jeju Island.

Her smile widened as she remembered the day as if it was just yesterday. They had no plans to elope but after being unable to settle on a date and deciding they couldn't wait any longer, an elopement became the obvious choice and luck seemed to be on their side for it. They already had the paperwork they needed and everyone that's important to them were able to fly out to Jeju Island the day before. His parents, brother and his wife, her step-mum, Jun-hee and the rest of the BTS members who surprisingly were all on leave at the time, were all able to be there for the couple, cheering them on. Yoongi was the one to suggest they get married on the beach, knowing it's Viola had mentioned years ago that she would love to get married on the beach one day and they asked Namjoon if he could be the Master of Ceremonies, Yoongi wanting his leader to officiate for them and Viola agreeing with the sentiment. Namjoon, teary-eyed, didn't hesitate to accept their request.

Yoongi smiles softly, breaking Viola from her reverie. “You look like you’re a million miles away,” he teased, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“I was just thinking about our wedding day,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. “It really was perfect. We spent months trying to find the perfect day but all it really took was a few days to get everything together.”

“It was like everything just fell into place," he agrees. "The location, the weather, everyone we love the most being able to be there."

Viola nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. "If we had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing."

“I agree,” he said, leaning down to steal another kiss. The two are so caught up in each other, they don't hear the door open and close or anyone come in until they hear Jimin and Taehyung groan in faux disgust.

“Get a room, you two!” Jimin exclaimed dramatically.

"I know it's your anniversary but can you do that away from the food," Taehyung joined in, making a mock gagging sound as he leaned against the doorframe.

Viola rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she steps back from Yoongi to get herself a glass of water.

"We got you two a little something while we were out." Jimin says and holds up the gift bag he was carrying. "This is from us, Jungkook, Hobi hyung, Jin hyung and Namjoon hyung."

Viola's curiosity piqued as she puts down her glass of water. “What did you get us?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, excitement bubbling within her. Yoongi wipes his hands on the kitchen towel, turning to face Jimin and Taehyung.

“Patience, my dear Lala,” Jimin said with a dramatic flair, pulling the gift bag closer to his chest. “You have to promise not to cry," he continues, knowing his noona well enough to know she gets emotional over sentimental things.

Yoongi chuckled softly, shaking his head at their antics. “Just show us already."

Jimin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he finally relented, reaching into the bag. He pulled out a beautifully wrapped box, tied with a delicate silver ribbon. He hands the box to Viola. “Open it! But remember—no crying!”

She carefully takes the box, placing it on the kitchen counter and unwraps the gift, peeling away the shiny paper to reveal a small photo album adorned with their names embossed in black on the cover. Her heart swelled as she opened it to find an array of pictures from their wedding day and the days following it including candid shots of laughter and tears, moments captured under the summertime sun-drenched sky of Jeju Island.

“Wow,” Viola gasped softly, her fingers brushing over the pages filled with memories. There were even little notes written by each BTS member, Jun-hee and their families beside certain photos—inside jokes and heartfelt messages that made her laugh and tear up all at once.

Yoongi steps closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder as he looks at the album. His expression softened as he read through some of the notes.

From Jimin: To my favorite couple, may your love continue to grow stronger every day.

From Taehyung: Eomma! You did it. You married the love of your life. Hyung, I'm so happy for you. You two have always had a special relationship, even just as friends. But now here you are as lovers, as husband and wife. Please take care of each other. I love you both.

From Namjoon: Your love is an inspiration to us all. I don't know two people more deserving of each other. May your life together continue to bring love, happiness and blessing.

From Jin: My little brother and sister, remember that no matter what you go through, you go through it together now, as husband and wife. Continue to take care of each other and love each other, in this life and the next one.

From Hobi: Hyung! Noona! Congratulations. I always knew you two were meant to be.

From Jungkook: Hyung, take care of Lala Noona. Noona, take care of Yoongi Hyung. You both need each other.

Viola felt a wave of warmth wash over her as she read each note, the love and support from their friends wrapping around her. She turns her head away from Jimin and Taehyung so they can't see her cry and looks at Yoongi, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He smiles lovingly at her and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Noona, no crying," Taehyung reminds her, his own voice showing a hint of emotion also.

"These are happy tears, I promise," she tells him, as she turns to the two younger men and hugs them both tightly. "Thank you for the gift and tell the others we say thank you."

"We will," Jimin smiles as Yoongi also thanks them for their thoughtful gift. The young couple never had a wedding photo album until now. They have photos framed in their home but never got the chance to put them into an album.

"We're going to go back and join the others," Taehyung lets them know. "Let you two continue what you started."

As Taehyung and Jimin made their way to the door, Viola's heart swelled with gratitude. "You guys are the best," she called after them, a beaming smile on her face. The warmth of their friendship enveloped her like a cozy blanket, making her feel incredibly blessed.

Once they were gone, Yoongi pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin atop her head. “I love you,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing.

Viola smiled, her heart swelling once again at Yoongi's words. “I love you too,” she murmured, leaning into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. She pulls back slightly to look into Yoongi's eyes, the warmth and affection in his gaze making her heart race. He grinned, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on her lips. The world around them fades into a gentle blur as the food sits on top of the stove forgotten about as they lose themselves in one another.

Later that evening, after a day celebrating their anniversary, they return back to where they are staying, the place empty once again. The only sign that someone had been there was the trail of rose petals leading to the Yoongi and Viola's bedroom that hadn't been there when they left.

Viola’s heart raced as she followed the trail of rose petals. She glanced at Yoongi, who was watching her with a mix of amusement and adoration. “Did you plan this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

He shrugged, a sheepish grin creeping onto his face. “Maybe? I thought it would be a nice surprise when we got back from dinner.”

As she goes to open the door, she finds a note that makes her chuckle. 'We'll be back around 8pm. Please don't be too loud after that. Have fun - Jungkook'.

Viola giggled at the note, shaking her head in disbelief. “Leave it to Jungkook to remind us about being loud,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she turned to Yoongi. “I guess we better make this quick before the others come back.”

Yoongi smirked, stepping closer to her, his gaze filled with playful intent. “Or we could just be quiet… but where’s the fun in that?” He took her hand and led her into their bedroom, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the space, casting a warm ambiance that made everything feel so much more intimate.

As they entered, Viola was met with even more surprises. Rose petals covered bottom half of the bed with three gift bags sitting amongst them. "Yoongi,” she breathed, turning to him with a mixture of surprise and affection. Yoongi could be romantic when he wanted to be but this was a new level for him. “You really went all out!”

Yoongi chuckled, his cheeks slightly flushed. “I wanted to make this day special for us and do something different,” he said softly, stepping further into the room, after closing the door.

Viola's heart melted at his thoughtfulness. She approached the closet, pulling out the gift bags she had hidden in there. “I have something for you too,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement as she rummaged through the bags.

For the next 10-15 minutes they sat on the bed, exchanging the gifts they had got for each other, occasionally stealing a kiss between each gift. Once all gifts were exchanged and admired thoroughly, Yoongi leaned back against the headboard as Viola moves the gifts to a safer spot. She then rejoins him on the bed, nestling herself against him, feeling the comforting weight of his arm draped over her shoulders.

“Today was perfect,” she sighed contentedly, looking up at him. “And this—” she gestured to the rose petals and gifts scattered about, “is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

Yoongi chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You deserve every bit of it. The way you've stuck with me over the year, through the good and bad. I couldn't ask for a better wife because I already have the best," he says hinting at his "scandal" and everything that brought with it, his alternative military service and the foundation he spent a lot of time and effort into creating. “You’ve been my rock, my home, my anchor, through everything."

She felt a rush of emotion swell within her as she nestled deeper into him, feeling safe and cherished in the embrace of the man she loved. “I’m just glad I could be there for you. You’ve done so much for me too,” she said, remembering how he was there through all her good and bad times too. She moves to look up at him, finding him looking right back at her.

"I hope this next year is filled with more good than bad," he says, his voice above a whisper. Unfortunately, the bad still ate at him and he still hasn't fully been able to forgive himself for his past mistakes.

"This next year is going to be the best yet," she assures him. "You're reunited with your boys, doing what you love. It's going to be busy but it's going to be so rewarding. And as your wife, I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

He leans in, his lips softly brushing against hers. Viola melted into his embrace as he deepened the kiss, shifting them to lie down with him hovering over her. As they lay there, enveloped in each other's warmth, the outside world faded into a distant murmur. Yoongi's fingers traced gently down her body, slipping under the hem of her knee-length dress. Her breath caught as Yoongi's fingers glided along her skin, igniting a trail of warmth wherever they touched. Each gentle caress sent shivers down her spine, igniting sparks of excitement that danced through her.

“Yoongi…” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as their lips lingered just inches apart. "I love you."

I love you too, Haneul," he replies, using her Korean name, the name he uses for her the most.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, drawing him closer until their lips met once more, deepening the kiss.

@forever-atiny - @carattinymoa - @rainyday-daydreamer - @lezleeferguson-120 - @kpopficrecs143 -

@cixrosie - @kaitieskidmore97 - @cheolwoo - @queenofdumbfuckery - @jeongyukook

#viola-verse #kpop-oc: viola kwon #oc: viola kwon #bts #bts x oc #kpop fics #yoongi x oc #min yoongi #bts fics #min yoongi fics #yoongi fics #suga fics #bts suga #suga #suga x oc #suga x soloist!oc #suga x wife!oc #min yoongi x oc #bts suga fics

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try-again-bissh · 21 hours ago

Text

"Imagine Being Loved by Me" Pt 10

Smoke X Annie X OC Sinners Fic

Modern AU

Posting two parts again today! Part 11 might be my favorite part I have written. I dedicate today's bathtub softness to dear @thebumblebeesworld enjoy, its soft and sweet just like you wow!

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: Much like Kdrama 10-11th episodes we have angst sorry!

Enjoy!

Day 13 of 16

“I didn't think I would have to remind you this but I'm not your woman Smoke, watch how you talking to me”

He scoffs, yes, she was his woman. She had been his woman for a while now. “Given how often I pry my head out from between your legs I think I've earned even a little bit of honest from you”

Cassie’s eyes narrowed sharply, “Ah that's it then? I let you drag your dick along my face, I swallow when you cum and suddenly I belong to you, you can demand answers from me?!”

“Cassie..” Annie tried to interject, not liking where this was heading at all.

“We more than just that and you know it. I didn't take you for a coward. You big and brave enough to run through me but you can't say shit that matters when it comes down to it.”

“Y'all let's not do this” Annie stepped between them.

“Stay outta this Ann” Smoke snapped. Cassie flinched, Annie didn't. She looked to the other woman, their eyes meeting briefly as Annie seemed to beg Cassie to calm down.

“Aye, don't fucking talk to her like that. That's your wife. It's me you mad at, not her. I'm the one that came up in here and I'm the reason for all these fucking fights. Don't you dare yell at Annie.” Her eyes were hard, tone firm and unwavering.

Smoke’s eyes darted to Annie, they softened as he looked over her for a moment before flashing back to Cassie. “If it's your fault, how you planning on fixing it huh? You so quick to take blame. What's your plan then?”

“Elijah c'mon now.”

“No Annie, she had one foot out the damn door since we started this. She wanna act like I'm overreacting when she wanna pretend she don't give a fuck about any of this.”

“You knew what it was before you laid up under me, Smoke. I told both of you I was here for a short time. I have a life in New York, my family, my friends, my community not to mention my fucking business. Everything you asking means you haven't listened to a fucking thing I've said since I've been down here”

“You gon stop talking to me crazy” He demanded, Cassie scoffed in response, rolling her eyes.

“No one is asking you to leave your life! I'm asking you to stop pretending you don't give a shit about us, stop acting like we was just having fun! That's what I'm asking”

“We weren't just having fun! You happy?! And what now? Nothing.” She exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

“Ain't shit changed. I am leaving in two days and y'all will still be here and still be married. That's it. End of. Entertaining anything else is foolish and naive. This whole conversation is a waste of my fucking time”

Smoke's back stiffened sharply, like he had been stabbed. Annie held her breath.

“I poured my heart out to you. Told you things only my wife and my brother know about me. Given you so much of me. All I'm asking is that you be real with me, with us. But you running scared like we not even worth a try. We a waste of your time”

Cassie blinked rapidly, eyes and nose burning at the rawness of his voice. She turned away to face the windows, unable to look at either of them.

“I guess I'm the bad guy cause I gotta say it. Ain't no room for me in your life. And ain't no room for y'all in mine.”

She grabbed her bag off the table and made her way out the door, ignoring Annie calling her name behind her.

“Fucking bullshit” Smoke muttered, his jaw clenched tight teeth gritted.

His wife didn't do this to him, nobody got him worked up like this.

Cassidy could pretend all she wanted that she didn't feel something for them but he knew she did. He could see it, he could feel it.

Day 12 of 16

Annie leaned back in the tub with a deep content sigh. The water was just the right side of too hot, calendula, mullen leaves, peony and rose petals floating in the water, bubbles mounded up to her chin.

She was with her last client till 8am. Labor started around 10pm, she wasn't fully dilated till 2am. Cierra was strong and determined and now her and Sasha had a beautiful baby boy.

Annie was exhausted, Elijah usually always made sure to be here with her after a rough delivery but Cierra water breaking had caught them both by surprise. He was out with Elias meeting a new artist who wanted to do a residency at Club Juke. He wasn't due back till tomorrow afternoon. It's fine, Annie can decompress and relax on her own.

“Annie? Smoke?”

Annie felt her heart skip and a smile broke out on her tired face. She had forgotten to text Cassidy.

“Back here!” She called out. The door opened not too long after, and like a beam of light in the darkness Cassie's smile appeared in the doorway.

“Hi baby” she said sweetly. “Where yo husband at?” She leaned her arms at the top of the doorway, her tall, thick body stretched out.

“He's gone, him and his twin out of town on business”

“Oh. So you got the house to yourself and you pampering yourself. Amazing, good. You deserve it” she nodded approvingly.

Annie giggled tiredly. “How's your clients, the lesbians?” Cassie asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb.

“Good, delivery was long and rough but baby and Mom were well and healthy when I left this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Yeah I didn't get in till 9.”

“Oh my God, you slept right?”

“Yeah, woke up couple of hours ago. My sleep schedule is fucked but it's alright.”

“Don't worry about that now. Get all the rest you need. Have you eaten? I can't make you something before I head out?”

“Head out? Why?”

“Uh well I just thought, I don't know. I thought you might want to enjoy having the place to yourself. You look hella cozy”

Annie looked up at her, “No, not at all”

“You not hungry? I can make something fast, I'm not as good as you or Smoke but-”

“I can eat later, come join me?”

“Huh?”

“Water’s fine and there's plenty of room, Elijah fits in this tub wit me that's why we got it.”

Cassie's eyes practically glowed imagining Annie and Smoke in this bathtub together.

“I'm sweaty and gross, I don't wanna ruin your bath.”

“You can shower off and join me.”

Cassie looked at the shower like she had never seen it before. Like her and Smoke hadn't pinned Annie to the wall inside of it just two nights ago.

“You sure?”

Annie nodded. “Hurry, please”

After the fastest most thorough shower of her life, Cassie padded naked and still dripping wet over to the huge claw foot tub where Annie was still lounging.

Cassie could feel Annie's eyes on her like hands, hot and everywhere all at once while she showered. It made her want to linger and rush to finish all at the same time.

“I added more hot water” she said as she leaned forward.

Cassie slid smoothly into the water right behind her. Situating her legs around Annie and wrapping her arms around her body. They sighed in unison.

Pure peace and contentment.

“You okay? You seem down?”

Annie took a deep breath. Elijah was right Cassie could see right inside of them. She left nowhere for them to hide and they didn't want to anyway.

“Most deliveries are hard. This one was long and arduous. I'm drained after each. I think this couple just hit close to home.”

Cassie hummed. Her warm hands came up and began rubbing Annie's shoulder with such mind numbing pressure.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Annie thought for a moment. She wanted to keep this light, beautiful air around them.

“Can you talk later?”

“Yes, of course baby.”

“Thank you” Annie turned and kissed her.

“Can you tell me about your day?” Elijah was upset he didn't get to see you before he left. He said Sammie must be plotting against him”

Annie felt Cassie's laugh vibrate through her, she smiled.

“I'll be here when he gets back, he's fine. Elijah is so used to getting his way”

“Don't I know it.”

“Um, you also get ya way. Especially with me”

“I have no idea what you are talking about about”

“Ah yes you do! I have my bag packed, Pearl ready to hop in her car and come get me and you just turn to me with them big ass eyes and I'm Sat”

“No clue what you talkin bout, really”

Annie turned and looked at Cassie over her shoulder, her brown eyes rounded and wide. Soft with an edge of pleading.

“OH MY GOD THATS THE FACE”

Cassie pointed an accusing finger at Annie's face, her eyes wide with shock.

Laughter burst through her, Annie couldn't keep the expression on. She did know, Smoke was the same. If Annie asked for the moon while looking at him like that, he would be calling Houston and getting to work convincing them to let him retrieve it.

Annie couldn't take all the credit, Elias had apparently primed his brother since childhood. Huge eyes and a slightly tilted chin and Elijah would fold, not even realizing it.

She wondered if Cassie pouted when she didn't get her way. She was determined and confident unless made shy. Her and Annie hadn't had a single disagreement since they met, her and Elijah sure had.

Her husband had a way of bringing out such interesting sides of people.

Annie was taken from her thoughts by Cassie rubbing her hands with firm pressure down her arms. She took her right hand and began massaging her palms, working her fingers and wrist. Annie didn't realize the tension there until it was gone.

Cassie repeated the same with her left, before bringing both hands up and pressing kisses to her palms.

Care, affection and love in each press of her lips.

Love

Yeah. Annie thought Elijah would be the last to realize it but Cassie's resistance surprised her.

They were in love. Annie loved this woman.

From the moment she saw her photo she was drawn to her, falling further and faster when they met.

Cassie had her and her man bent outta shape from the second she stepped into Clarksdale, and as the date of her departure loomed closer and closer Annie was worried.

Cassie had made no mention of what things would be like when she returned home, and if the way she was still trying to give them space and be reasonable was any sign, they weren't going to love the ideas she had about their relationship.

She's known she was in love for a while now, since Cassie was floating on her back in that lake looking like something out of a myth. Annie felt ready to shout it from the rooftops when she came home and found Cassie and Elijah asleep on the couch, Cassie's arms wrapped around him like a shield even in her sleep. Tears dried on his cheeks.

Of the little hoodoo Annie knew how to practice, she threw bones often. Premonition was something her Granny said was innate and couldn't really be taught. The spirits either speak when you call or they don't.

They spoke to Annie. When she found both her and her husband tripping and stumbling around behind a woman who seemed to be caught between running from them and eating them alive, she threw bones about it.

Annie and Elijah were to heal her. Holes had been gored into the loving parts of Cassie, and filled with cement made of fear. She wasn't sent there for them, they were sent to her. Annie decided to love her with her full self, holding nothing back.

Still somehow Cassie was a woman absolutely bursting with love. She loved Pearline like a sister and treated Sammie by extension with so much care and affection he had called to threaten Elijah to treat her right, in his own soft Preacherboy way. Cassie understood the measure of devotion and chosen family, and gave with her whole heart.

She walked into Mississippi very much her ownself, unapologetically Queer, voraciously Black and cast a spell over all of them.

How were they expected not to fall in love with her?

A confession would send Cassie out the door, holding on too strong would make them lose her. Annie refused to let this kind of love be lost. They all deserved it. And it seemed Cassie most of all.

Annie would love and be loving whether Cassie was ready to hear about it or not. Ready to acknowledge what was all around them at all times. Elijah was another story, once he realized his feelings it would be difficult to convince him not to tell her.

Now in this moment, Annie could practically see their love in the air around them. She could definitely feel it. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up slightly to look at Cassie over her shoulder.

Her eyebrows rose slightly and she waited patiently to see if Annie would speak. Annie turned in the water and laid her head on Cassie's shoulder, her arms closed around her.

It didn't matter, fear didn't matter, logistics didn't matter, being practical didn't matter. She loved this woman and she wasn't going to let her go.

“My sweet baby. You work too hard” Cassie kissed her forehead.

Annie hummed the affection and care melting her exhaustion away.

“You need a vacation, you can decide if Elijah is invited.”

Annie giggled. Then a thought floated like steam into Annie's head.

“I ain't never been to New York befo. Elijah neither.”

“Really? I think you would like it. Harlem has amazing soul food and in my unbiased opinion, Brooklyn is the best places on planet earth” Cassie replied with a confident flourish.

She hadn't caught the hint yet, no problem Annie thought. “Hmm, what about Seneca?”

“Huh?”

“You live out there right? What's it like, you think I would like it?”

“Umm it's beautiful I can say that much. Mississippi looks very different than that part of the country so I think on a purely aesthetics part you would enjoy it, but it's farm country ain't shit to do.”

“I like farms, I like cows and old horses and I like farmers” she leaned up and kissed Cassie's chin.

Cassie was quiet for a long moment. She did this often, she understood what was being said to her and then her doubts would turn the words around. Annie gave her the time.

“Vacations are for having fun Annie, there's so much to see and do in the city. You can't go to NY and just go upstate, that's not New York.

“You on vacation now and you're in my bathtub in my small town.” Cassie laughed.

“That's different, I came cause I got people I care bout here.”

“I got people I care about in Seneca too, a whole lot”

Quiet again.

Cassie huffed and squeezed her arms around Annie again leaning her head back on the rim of the tub.

Soon. Maybe she would be able to hear it soon. Annie thought. For now she held her woman tight and let the steam and hot water melt her other worries away

Thnks for reading!!!

#sinners #sinners 2025 #smoke x annie #annie sinners #annie x smoke #annie moore #elijah moore #annie x oc #smoke x oc #sinners fic #annie x fem!oc #smoke x annie x oc #annie x smoke x oc #michael b jordan #wunmi mosaku

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