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hereforuconnwbb · 2 days ago

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The Study of Us - CHAPTER 11

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 7.7k

warning: language, injury

hey guysss heres chap 11 !! sorry for a bit of a delay as ive been sick with a fever 😭 ntm to say other than it's not edited. lmk what u guys think !! hope u guys enjoy 😽🫶🏽

‼️‼️this wasn’t edited

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paige slumped into her seat by the window, the duffel dropping to the floor by her feet. Caroline scooted in beside her, stretching her long legs out, while Aubrey claimed the other corner of the last row, pulling up her hood and immediately nestling against the window like she was prepping for hibernation.

Paige pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and quickly opened her messages.

Paige: js sat down

Paige: alrdy missing u a lil too much 😅

A beat later, the typing bubble appeared. Paige blikned down at it, her stomach fluttering.

Azzi: im still standing outside like an idiot

Azzi: miss you alrdy too

Azzi: stay safe ‘lover girl’

Paige’s face flushed, and she turned slightly toward the window to hide it.

Caroline leaned in and nudged her with her elbow. “So… what exactly did I walk in on back there when I yelled your name ?”

Paige didn’t answer at first, just grinned quietly and kept looking at her phone.

Aubrey snorted from her side. “Please. You saw her. She was two seconds away from proposing to Azzi in the bushes.”

Paige groaned, letting her head fall back against the seat dramatically. “Bruhhhh can you not ?”

Caroline smirked. “We’re just saying, that looked like a goodbye scene straight out of a movie.”

“She kissed your cheek,” Aubrey added.

“And you looked like you forgot how to breathe after,” Caroline chimed in.

Paige threw a hand over her face. “Oh my god. I hate both of you.”

Caroline grinned. “Anywayss, I have a question.”

“No,” Paige said automatically.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say !”

“I know.”

Caroline ignored her. “When are you going to actually ask her out ?”

Aubrey perked up. “Yea, I’ve been wondering that too. Especially after what happened today…”

Paige groaned louder. “Don’t bring it up.”

“What ?” Aubrey feigned innocence. “The part where prof casually called Azzi your girlfriend ? That part ?”

Caroline laughed. “I swear he didn’t even blink. He just said it like it was common knowledge.”

“Because it kind of is,” Aubrey added.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Paige muttered, covering her face again.

They all laughed and Paige let the moment settle. The truth was, she didn’t mind the teasing. Because under it all, there was something warm and real growing in her chest, something that didn’t feel one-sided anymore.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Paige mumbled, half-heartedly.

“Yet,” Caroline and Aubrey said in unison.

Paige glared at both of them. “Can I breathe for like five mins ?”

“You can breathe after you grow a spine and ask her out,” Caroline said.

“I’m working on it,” Paige said, quieter now, eyes back on her phone.

A new message buzzed through.

Azzi: u better kill it this weekend.

Azzi: but also come back asap 🫠

Azzi: sitting on the couch is gonna feel weirdly quiet without u

Paige smiled to herself, thumbs hovering over the screen before she typed:

Paige: weirdly quiet huh ?

Paige: sounds like someone is getting used to having me around 🥹

The typing bubble popped up almost instantly.

Azzi: maybe i am.

Azzi: dont make me admit it twice 🙄

Paige’s heart stuttered. She read the message twice, then 3 times, before tucking her phone into her pocket and exhaling a long, slow breath.

“What ?” Caroline asked, noticing the look on her face.

“Nothing,” Paige said, lips curling despite herself. “Just… maybe I’ll ask her when I get back.”

Aubrey let out a slow, exaggerated clap. “Growth.”

Caroline threw an arm around her shoulder. “Finally. Took like five years.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her smile never left.

She didn’t feel nervous anymore. She felt ready. Well, mostly.

She let out a quiet sigh, tilting her head back against the window again. “Ok, but like… real talk ? I lowkey wanna kiss her so bad sometimes, it’s patheticn.”

Caroline snorted. “Lowkey ?”

“I’m serious,” Paige groaned. “Every time we’re close I just… I pussy out. Like full body shutdown. Brain empty, confidence gone, nothing left but static.”

Aubrey cracked a grin. “Just say you wanna fuck her too while your at it.”

Paige sat up straight, face blazing. “No ! I mean—what ?! No !”

Aubrey held up her hands, laughing. “Relax, it's a joke.”

Caroline was wheezing. “God, your face. That was amazing.”

“Yea, it’s because I don’t wanna—” Paige stopped herself, fumbled for words, then covered her face again. “Bruh, I’m just gonna not say anything about that.”

The laughter softened a bit. Caroline shot her a sideways look, gentler this time. “Anyways, stop overthinking it. If you feel it and you think she does too, just don’t wait forever.”

Aubrey stretched out, grinning. “Yea. Worst case scenario, she beats you to it and you end up the nervous mess.”

Paige groaned. “Perfect. Encouraging and embarrassing.”

But underneath the teasing, something settled in her chest. Maybe this time, she really was ready to stop holding back.

—------------------------------------------

The team dinner that night after they landed in Knoxville had finally wrapped up, the noise of laughter and clinking plates fading as Paige slipped back into the quiet of her dorm room. KK and Ice were sprawled on the couch, scrolling through their phones, while Paige tossed her jacket on the bed and pulled out her phone.

She thumbed open her messages, her fingers hovering for a moment before typing.

Paige: heyyy dinner was pre wild with the way kk was trying to steal the last pizza slice off ice

A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

Azzi: 😭 sounds like a disaster

Azzi: hope ice survived the invasion

Paige smiled, then glanced at KK and Ice.

“Hey, you guys gonna keep sitting there or go to annoy the others ?” she asked.

KK stretched and smirked. “Damn right. We’re gonna go stir up trouble with the others. They’re probably bored without us.”

Ice grinned. “Catch us later, peace out.”

They got up, grabbing jackets and tossing a “Later, P boogers !” over their shoulders as they headed out.

Paige settled back on her bed, fingers itching to type again. She paused, then went for it.

Paige: wann ft ?

Paige: i kinda wanna see ur pretty face before i knock out

Her heart skipped when the typing bubble popped up almost immediately.

Azzi: nawww sure 🤭

Azzi: lemme js find my charger

Paige grinned, already imagining that smile lighting up her screen.

The Facetime screen connected with a quiet ding, and Paige propped her phone up against her pillow, settling back as Azzi appeared.

Azzi was curled up on her bed, wearing a loose tank top and soft grey pj pants, her hair tossed up into a messy bun that somehow looked effortlessly perfect. A pair of glasses perched on her nose as she adjusted her charger.

Paige blinked. Her brain stalled for a second.

“Hey P,” Azzi said, voice warm and casual as she sat back and pulled her blanket over her lap.

Paige smiled a beat late. “Hey.”

“You good ?” Azzi asked, 1 eyebrow raising behind her glasses.

Paige cleared her throat, shifting slightly against the headboard. “Yeayea, just… tired. Long day.”

Azzi gave her a look that said uh huh, sure, but didn’t press.

Paige reached for her water bottle, more for something to do than out of thirst. Her fingers fidgeted with the cap. She couldn’t stop looking at Azzi. Something about the way her collarbone peeked out from the tank top, the lazy slouch of her posture, her bare legs tucked under her—it was casual, normal, completely innocent.

But Paige’s thoughts were anything but.

She tapped the edge of the bottle nervously. “You look pre comfortable.”

Azzi glanced down at herself, then back up with a small grin. “It’s pajama hour. You know how it is.”

“Right,” Paige mumbled. Her eyes dipped for a second too long before she looked away quickly, pressing the cold water bottle to her cheek like it might ground her.

Azzi tilted her head. “What time’s final practice tomorrow ?”

“Uh—” Paige blinked. “Eight I think—Oh wait, nine. Then a quick film right after.”

Azzi nodded, shifting her weight and adjusting the blanket again. “And the game’s Sunday, right ?”

“Yea. Early.” Paige tapped her knee restlessly. “We’ll head straight to the airport after. Should be back on campus around like… nine or ten-ish ?”

Azzi’s expression softened. “So I get you back Sunday night ?”

That made Paige smile, even as her stomach flipped. “Yep. Lucky you.”

Azzi smirked. “Lucky me.”

There was a small pause. Paige chewed her lip, trying not to stare too hard at the soft lines of Azzi’s neck or the way her glasses kept slipping down her nose only for her to push them back up with one finger.

It was stupid how hot she looked while doing absolutely nothing. Just existing.

“Hey,” Azzi said suddenly, her tone light but curious. “You sure you’re ok ?”

Paige blinked again. “What ?”

“You’re just… fidgety. More than usual. Did you drink like four gatorades at dinner or something ?”

Paige let out a sharp laugh, then immediately regretted it. “No, I—I’m just tired. Brain fried. Also KK dared me to eat a pepperoni slice with ranch and chocolate syrup on it, so I might still be recovering.”

Azzi winced. “That’s foul.”

“Yea, she’s a menace.” Paige shifted again, tugging her hoodie sleeve over her hand. “Anyway, I’m just kinda out of it.”

Azzi hummed, still watching her. “Well, I’m glad you called.”

“Yea ?” Paige asked, quieter now.

Azzi nodded. “It’s nice. Seeing your face. I feel like I haven’t really seen you in days.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “Same.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt like the kind that only happened when 2 people were a little too aware of each other.

Azzi glanced down at something in her lap and then looked up again, blinking slowly. “You should sleep soon tho. Big weekend ahead.”

Paige exhaled. “I know.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” Azzi said firmly. “Like, I have zero doubts. I wish I could’ve come.”

Paige smiled faintly. “Me too.”

There was another pause, softer this time. Azzi yawned quietly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. The movement made her tank top slip slightly off 1 shoulder. Paige’s eyes darted away instantly.

Focus. You’re just friends. You’re not allowed to think about kissing her. Or holding her. Or—

Azzi’s voice broke through her thoughts again. “Alright, lover girl. You should get some sleep.”

Paige froze, then narrowed her eyes. “You did not just call me that again.”

Azzi grinned. “I absolutely did.”

“Disrespectful.”

“Affectionate.”

Paige couldn’t stop smiling even as she groaned and dragged a pillow over her face. “Ok, goodnight before I combust.”

Azzi laughed. “Night, Paige.”

“Wait—”

Azzi raised her brows. “Yea ?”

Paige peeked out from the pillow, cheeks pink. “Thanks for answering. I… kinda needed that.”

Azzi’s expression softened again. “You don’t have to thank me. I always want to see you.”

Paige swallowed.

“Goodnight for real,” Azzi said, almost in a whisper now.

“Night,” Paige echoed.

The screen went dark, but Azzi’s image lingered behind Paige’s eyes like a brand.

That tank top. Those glasses. The way her voice dipped when she said goodnight.

Paige groaned softly and flopped fully onto her back, draping her arm across her eyes like it might shut her brain off. It didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse.

Her mind wandered back to how Azzi looked on that screen. The low lighting. That lazy grin. The way her tank top slipped off her shoulder like gravity itself was teasing Paige. And the glasses ? Unfair.

She shouldn’t be thinking about how warm Azzi’s skin probably was under that blanket. Or how soft her lips looked. Or what it might feel like to have Azzi curled up next to her in real life instead of on a screen.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, dragging her hands down her face.

Get it together, P

She turned over, yanking her blanket up, as if hiding under it might smother the thoughts threatening to spiral. Her stomach was tight with heat and longing, a low buzz under her skin that made her feel restless and kind of insane.

She flipped again. Huffed into her pillow. Tried counting down from 10.

She made it to 7.

And then—

The hotel room door swung open with a loud click, and KK’s voice burst into the quiet.

“P BOOGERSSSS ! You still alive in here ?”

Paige practically jolted off the bed, heart slamming as she shoved her phone under her pillow and sat up like she hadn’t just been having thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

Ice followed behind, holding a half-finished smoothie and kicking off her crocs. “Damn, she really was gonna fall asleep without us.”

KK flopped onto the other bed dramatically. “You facetiming someone ?” she asked, eyeing Paige’s slightly rumplef blanket and pink-tinted cheeks with too much interest.

“No,” Paige said too quickly. “Just… laying down.”

Ice smirked but didn’t say anything, already scrolling through her phone as she pulled her hoodie off.

KK raised an eyebrow. “Right. Totally laying down and not thinking about someone.”

Paige threw a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

KK laughed, muffled behind the pillow now clutched to her chest. “I’m just saying.”

Paige shook her head, trying to keep her face neutral even as her heart still raced from both the Azzi thoughts and the sudden intrusion.

The girls settled down eventually—Ice plugging in her charger, KK kicking her legs under the covers and the lights went out with a soft click.

Paige turned toward the wall, blanket pulled high, letting the cool fabric soothe her skin.

Her pulse slowed, her body finally settling, the storm in her head dulling to a quiet ache.

Azzi’s voice still echoed in the back of her mind, soft and close.

I always want to see you.

Paige exhaled, eyes fluttering shut.

She let herself fall into sleep with that sentence cradled against her chest like a secret.

—------------------------------------------

The next morning, Paige’s phone buzzed quietly beside her bed. She blinked awake and smiled when she saw Azzi’s name glowing on the screen.

Azzi: morning p💗

Azzi: did u end up sleeping straight away ?

Paige smirked, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Paige: morning az💗

Paige: js stayed up for a few more mins thinking abt some stuff 🙃

Azzi: mhmmm sameeeee 😭

They kept texting between breakfast, break, and before Paige’s practice, lil messages popped up such as a quick joke, a reminder to drink water, and a few goofy selfies.

Later, after practice, Paige found herself scrolling through Azzi’s messages during downtime, the corners of her mouth tugging up at every text.

Finally, unable to resist, she typed out:

Paige: i miss u azziiiiiiiiiii poo poo

The reply came almost instantly:

Azzi: i miss u too paigeeeeeeeeyyy pee pee

Paige’s chest warmed with a quiet joy. She wasn’t sure how this whole thing had happened but she didn’t want to question it. Instead, she let herself enjoy it.

That afternoon, while wandering around Knoxville with a few of the girls, Paige’s eyes caught something colourful behind a shop window. A gigantic stuffed unicorn, its pastel pink mane, Azzi's favourite colour, shimmering faintly under the sun, stared back at her with oversized, glittering eyes.

Without thinking, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, then sent it to Azzi with a message:

Paige: this giant majestical beast of a unicorn reminds me of u

Paige: too magical for words

Her phone buzzed quickly:

Azzi: NAWWWWW THATS ADORABLE🥹

Azzi: + ure impossible🫠

Paige smiled, then slipped inside the shop while the others continued chatting outside. She paid for the unicorn quietly, tucking the receipt in her pocket. It would be a surprise for Azzi—something sweet and silly she could bring when she returned back to Storrs.

—------------------------------------------

By the time dinner was over and the team had trickled back to their rooms, Paige had changed into her favorite green pj pants and a black nike sports bra as the room was a little humid, and she couldn’t be bothered with a shirt. Her hair was still damp from the shower as she crawled into bed, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warm air.

KK was in the corner chair with airpods in, humming along to some song, and Ice was already passed out, hood up and blanket over her head.

Paige reached for her phone.

Paige: u up ?

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

Azzi: always

Azzi: everything alr ?

Paige grinned, thumb hovering for a second before she typed again.

Paige: i js wanna talk to u

Paige: if ur not too tired obviously

There was a pause this time, longer than usual, and then—

Azzi: ofc js gimme 2 mins

Azzi: ft ?

Paige’s stomach did that stupid thing again.

She typed back:

Paige: yes pls

Paige glanced over at KK

“KK,” Paige said, low but firm.

KK looked up, pulling an airpod out.

“I’m about to be on a call,” Paige said, stretching her legs out and crossing one ankle over the other. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

KK grinned immediately. “Define stupid.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “KK.”

“I’m just saying��”

“Don’t start,” Paige warned, holding up a finger just as her phone rang with the incoming facetime. Her stomach flipped as she tapped her screen to answer.

Azzi’s face filled the screen, her curls were tied up messily, skin glowing, sweatshirt slightly slipping off 1 shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, voice a little raspy, eyes immediately locking on Paige.

Azzi had fully intended to say more. Something casual. Chill. Maybe a sarcastic comment. But her brain short-circuited the second she took in the sight before her.

Paige, leaning back against her pillows in those familiar green pj pants, the waistband riding low on her hips. Sports bra hugging her just right. Skin still a bit wey from her shower. Collarbone and shoulder blades defined, arms resting behind her head like she didn’t even know what she looked like right now.

Azzi blinked. “Um.”

“You good ?” Paige asked, eyes twinkling, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She knew.

“Yea,” Azzi cleared her throat, shifting slightly on her bed. “Just—long day and that.”

“Mhmmmmmm,” Paige said, smug as hell.

Azzi was about to retaliate with some smartass comeback when KK launched herself across the room and popped into frame behind Paige grinning.

“HEY GIRLYYYY.” KK yelled, nearly knocking Paige’s phone out of her hands. “Wus good ?”

Azzi laughed, recovering fast. “What are you doing ?”

“I just had to come say hey,” KK said, like it was her duty. Then, without even pausing for air, she turned to Azzi with a wicked glint in her eye. “Yo, did Paigey here tell you what she said earlier ? To me and Ice ?”

Paige froze. “KK, shut the fuck up—”

“She was staring at one of your ig posts like she was in heat,” KK continued gleefully, ignoring Paige completely. “She said—‘How is she real, like be fucking serious. She’s actually so fine it pisses me off.’”

“Kamorea.”

Azzi blinked fast. “Wait, what ?”

“Oh, and then Ice was like, ‘She’s so obsessed she’d legally change her last name without even dating her,’ and Paige just groaned and rolled off the bed like she couldn’t take it.”

“You’re actually gonna die,” Paige muttered, reaching for her pillow.

“Oh nonono,” KK said, backing up but laughing hysterically. “The world deserves to know the truth. You’re so gone for her—OH SHIT !”

Paige had flung her pillow with precise aim, hitting KK square in the face. But KK just doubled over, cackling.

Across the room, a muffled groan came from under the blanket.

“You idiots are too fucking loud,” Ice said, voice groggy.

KK whipped around. “Ice ! Back me up ! Tell Azzi what Paige said earlier.”

Ice pushed her hood back with a dramatic sigh, rubbing her eyes. “Paige said Azzi looked so good it made her want to walk into traffic.”

“What the fuck,” Paige said, propping her phone onto the bedside table as she lunged at KK.

Azzi burst out laughing, nearly dropping her own phone as the chaos on Paige’s end escalated instantly. Paige tackled KK to the floor, both of them shouting and wrestling, tangled in limbs and blankets and limbs.

“Take it back !” Paige yelled, straddling KK and trying to pin her down.

“NEVER,” KK wheezed, laughing uncontrollably. “THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE—PAIGE, STOP—I’M TICKLISH !”

Paige took full advantage, fingers jabbing at KK’s sides mercilessly. “Say you’re lying.”

“I CAN’T—YOU DID SAY IT—FUCKEN STOP—ICE HELP ME !”

And because Ice was Ice, she stood up, stretched like she had all the time in the world, and said, “Yea, ok,” before walking over and joining the pile. She plopped down on KK’s legs and poked at her ribs while Paige continued her tickle attack.

The 3 of them were a mess on the floor—yelling, laughing, tangled up like idiots.

Meanwhile, Azzi had flopped onto her back from laughing so hard, the phone now propped up against her pillow as she watched the absolute trainwreck unfold on the screen.

But in between fits of laughter, her eyes kept drifting. Kept finding Paige.

The way the hotel light hit warm and low, casting soft shadows on her. Her back arched slightly as she wrestled KK, the definition in her arms and abs on full, distracting display. Her cheeks flushed from laughing, from moving.

And Azzi.

She was not ok.

She was laughing, sure, but also not at all paying attention to anything KK or Ice were yelling now. Her face was warm, throat tight, and she had to actually look away from the screen for a second to collect herself.

When she looked back, Paige had finally pinned KK down and was breathless from laughing, hair a mess and a wide grin on her face.

Azzi swallowed.

“You guys are so dumb,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray how flustered she actually was.

Paige leaned back onto her heels, pushing hair out of her face, and grinned at her. “And yet you still called.”

Azzi shook her head, cheeks aching from smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re hot,” Paige said without missing a beat.

Then, almost immediately, her confidence cracked just a little. “Wait—shit, I didn’t mea—”

KK screamed. “SHE ADMITTED IT—”

“SHUT. UP.” Paige grabbed the pillow again.

Azzi just laughed harder, covering her face with her hand as KK yelped and Ice casually sidestepped the next flying pillow.

—------------------------------------------

After a while, Paige finally sat back on the bed, still catching her breath, hair wild and cheeks flushed from the fight. KK and Ice were still grinning like idiots, exchanging glances.

Azzi wiped a tear of laughter from her eye and shook her head. “You guys are terrible.”

KK grinned. “Hey, we’re just the entertainment. Don’t blame us.”

Ice nodded solemnly. “Yurrr, somebody’s gotta keep the mood light before you two decide to get all sappy n thsat.”

Paige shot them a mock glare but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She glanced back at the screen, catching Azzi’s eyes again.

“So,” Paige said, trying to sound casual but failing, “whatchu wanna talk about ?”

Azzi smiled, cheeks pink. “I dunno. Just… stuff. How your day went. How you’re gonna annihilate that game tomorrow.”

Paige rolled her eyes but felt her chest swell a little. “Stop buttering me up. I’m already feeling the pressure.”

“Good,” Azzi teased. “Means you care.”

They talked quietly for a while, sharing dumb stories from the day, swapping low-key jokes, and just… existing in the comfortable silence between words.

KK’s voice cut through softly from behind Paige. “Hey, Azzi, you hearing this? Paige is basically melting over you.”

Ice snorted. “Dude, they’re basically a puddle over there.”

Azzi laughed. “You two are awful.”

Paige laughed too, then looked back at Azzi, her smile a little softer now.

“You should sleep,” Azzi said gently. “Big day tomorrow. Gotta show out.”

Paige smirked. “I will. Eventually.”

Azzi gave her a look. “No scheming. Just sleep, ok ?”

“Bossy,” Paige teased, but her voice was warm.

Azzi grinned. “Only cause I care.”

Paige’s heart did a tiny flip. “Ight. I’ll go to sleep. Promise.”

“Good,” Azzi said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Night P. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

“Night Az,” Paige said, voice quieter now. “Thanks.”

Azzi ended the call leaving Paige smiling at the quiet glow of it, the room finally still.

KK poked Paige’s side, smirking. “You’re blushing.”

“Piss off, KK,” Paige muttered, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

Ice stretched and yawned dramatically. “Alrightyyyy, I’m out.”

KK threw an arm around Paige’s shoulders. “Same. Let’s get our beauty sleep, girly pops.”

Paige rolled onto her side, sighing. “Yea. Goodnight you assholes.”

“Night Paigeyyy,” KK and Ice chorused, already pulling their blankets up as they all driftrd off to sleep.

—------------------------------------------

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that came in the early morning. The ac hummed softly, and Ice’s light snoring filled the space like background noise.

Paige blinked awake slowly, groggy and warm under the covers. For a second, she just laid there, listening to the stillness.

Then she reached for her phone, screen lighting up instantly with a few unread notifications. 1 at the top stood out.

Azzi: morning superstar 💗

Azzi: go be great tdy

Paige stared at it for a second, then buried her face in her pillow with a muffled groan and a grin so big it hurt.

She rolled over, thumbs flying.

Paige: morning az 💗

Paige: u rlly tryna make me soft before a game huh

Paige: it’s working btw

Azzi’s typing bubble popped up almost immediately.

Azzi: naww 😭

Azzi: wellllll u better cook smth up

Paige laughed quietly, the nerves from earlier already starting to ease into something steadier. She stretched once, then tossed the blanket off and sat up, already feeling more awake.

Behind her, KK cracked 1 eye open. “Lemme guess. The bae texted you.”

“Shut up,” Paige mumbled, but she didn’t deny it.

Ice rolled over. “Better get moving, game day. Time to be that dawg.”

Paige grinned, already heading for her bag. “Damn right.”

—------------------------------------------

The team had just finished warming up and was now huddled in the locker room, 5 mins before tip-off.

Paige slid her phone quietly out of her bag, careful to keep it hidden from coach and her teammates. Her thumb flicked open the screen.

A new message from Azzi lit up the screen:

Azzi: goodluck p 💗

Azzi: rdy to watch u cook :)

Attached was a photo of her ipad propped up against her pillow, the commentators of the game and clear—Tennessee Lady Vols vs. Uconn.

Paige smiled, heart kicking up a notch. She typed back fast:

Paige: thank u az 💗

Paige: i will try my best 🙂‍↕️

Paige tucked the phone away, took a deep breath, and looked around at her teammates. Time to bring everything she had.

—------------------------------------------

The buzzer sounded sharp and final as the starting 5 stepped onto the court. The energy inside Thompson-Boling Arena was intense—orange everywhere, the Tennessee crowd loud and relentless. But Paige didn’t flinch. She bounced on her toes, laser-focused, eyes scanning the court.

The ball went up, Jana slapped it back cleanly, and Uconn took the first possesssiob.

Paige caught the ball from Kaitlyn and immediately pushed. Tennessee set up quick, but Paige hesitated only for a second before attacking the right side. 1 hard dribble, crossover left which made the defender bite and Paige glided past her into the lane.

Eurostep. Bucket.

First 2 points on the board.

The next few minutes were a blur of high-level basketball. Tennessee punched back hard. Their guards were quick, aggressive. Their bigs boxed out relentlessly. But Uconn held their ground, moving like a unit.

Ashlynn hit a smooth corner 3 off a drive-and-kick from Kaitlyn.

Sarah snagged a tough offensive board and put it back with authority.

Jana swatted a post-up layup into the stands.

And Paige ? Paige was locked in.

She drove baseline and finished with a reverse.

She pulled up off a screen and drained a smooth midrange.

She stripped a pass clean and went coast to coast, finishing through contact for the and-1.

By the end of the first quarter, it was tied 19–19.

In the second, Tennessee started to press. Their guard picked Paige up full court, trying to wear her down. But Paige didn’t panic. She used her handle like a weapon—tight and quick.

Behind-the-back, change of pace, then a no-look pass to Ice who subbed in for the finish.

In their next possession, Paige hit Kaitlyn on a cut with a bounce pass so sharp it split 2 defenders.

The crowd was loud, but Paige was louder with her game. She scored again on a step-back 3 with a defender draped on her. Net barely moved.

Still, Tennessee wouldn’t go away.

They ran the floor. Hit back-to-back 3s. Got physical inside. At halftime, it was neck-and-neck: 37–36, Uconn up by 1.

In the locker room, everyone was dripping sweat and adrenaline, gulping water and breathing heavy. Paige sat, towel draped over her shoulders, staring down at her shoes for a second before glancing at the screen of her phone. No new message from Azzi this time, but just knowing she was probably busy watching ?

That was enough.

She stood, tossed the towel aside, and looked around. “We got this,” she said simply. Her voice didn’t have to rise. They all felt it.

In the third, Paige came out firing.

She hit a 3 on the first possession, then found Caroline who was now on, trailing for another 3. Uconn built a small lead, but Tennessee clawed right back, feeding their post and pushing transition. The crowd roared with every bucket.

Still, Paige didn’t blink.

The fourth quarter started 59–59.

Every possession mattered now. Every cut. Every switch. Every box out.

—------------------------------------------

Azzi sat cross-legged on her bed, blanket wrapped loosely around her waist, ipad balanced on a pillow in front of her. The stream was clear, commentators in full swing, and the arena noise roaring through her airpods like she was courtside. Her heart pounded with every play. Paige was everywhere, lighting it up, finding teammates, talking on defense. She looked locked in.

Azzi couldn’t stop smiling.

She watched as Paige threaded another pass through traffic, then hit a pull-up jumper like it was nothing. “Let’s go,” Azzi whispered to herself, biting her lip as she stared at the screen.

When the third quarter ended, she stretched her arms overhead, exhaling. “You’re killing it, P,” she muttered like Paige could hear her.

But then midway through the fourth—everything shifted.

Paige caught an outlet pass and took off in transition. She cut right, planted hard and crumpled.

The stream cut to a different camera for a beat, but Azzi had seen it. Paige grabbing her ankle. Wincing. Staying down.

Azzi’s heart dropped.

“Nonono—” she whispered, sitting upright now, her hand flying to her mouth. The broadcast cut back to Paige being helped up by trainers, limping slightly, jaw clenched. She wasn’t putting full weight on it. Azzi could see the pain and the frustration on her face.

Paige didn’t return to the game.

Azzi didn’t even register the rest of the fourth. Tennessee went on a run. Uconn looked shaken.

Final score: 74–68. Tennessee win.

The buzzer sounded, but Azzi’s attention was on her phone now, thumbs flying.

Azzi: what happened ???

Azzi: r u alr ???

Azzi: paige PLEASEEEEEEE text me when u can

Azzi: im so sorry abt the game as well

Azzi: but fk that cs i needa know if ur ok ??

No response.

Azzi sat there frozen, refreshing the messages, staring at the read receipt that never came. She paced her room, then tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

Half an hour passed. An hour.

Then just as she sat down again, her phone lit up. Incoming call: Paige.

Azzi snatched it up. “Paige ?!”

There was a pause, then Paige’s voice came through which was soft and a lil scratchy.

“Hey.”

“Are you ok ? I was freaking out—what happened ?”

Paige sighed on the other end. “It’s just a rolled ankle. Not bad. Swollen, yea, but the trainer thinks it’s minor. I just… couldn’t go back in.”

Azzi exhaled, heart still in her throat. “I was so worried. You didn’t text. I thought—God, I thought it was worse.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” A pause. “I just… needed a min.”

Azzi could hear the weight in her voice—the frustration, the sting. “No need to apologise P. I get it. You played your heart out. That loss wasn’t on you.”

“I still feel like shit,” Paige admitted. “I hate being on the bench. I hate watching us lose. And now this ankle’s gonna be a thing for who knows how long…”

Azzi was quiet for a second, then said gently, “Where are you now ?”

“Back of the bus. Heading to the airport.”

“You by yourself ?”

“Yea. Wanted space.”

There was a pause on the other end—then, Paige’s voice, barely above a whisper:

“Can I come straight to yours when I get back ?”

Azzi didn’t even let her finish the sentence.

“Of course,” she said. “Always.”

There was another silence, but this one felt different. Calmer.

“I’ll see you soon,” Paige said.

Azzi nodded, even though Paige couldn’t see it. “I’ll be up.”

—------------------------------------------

The bus rolled quietly into Storrs later that night, headlights cutting through the dark as the team filed off 1 by 1, tired and low after the tough loss. Paige stayed close to the back, wincing slightly as she shifted weight off her injured ankle.

Aubrey and Caroline caught up to her as she gathered her things, their expressions softening when they saw the way Paige moved carefully.

“Hey, we got you,” Aubrey said, stepping forward with a warm smile. “Let us carry your stuff.”

Caroline nodded, already reaching for Paige’s duffle bag. “And what’s that for ?” she asked, gently lifting the oversized, sparkly unicorn plush peeking out from the top.

Paige hesitated, then gave a small, tired smile. “It’s a gift for Azzi.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, exchanging a quick glance with Caroline. “Azzi ? Oh, ok. That’s sweet.”

Paige shrugged, “Yea. I’m actually heading to her dorm, if that’s cool.”

“Totally,” Caroline said, slipping the duffle onto her shoulder. “We’ll help you get there before we head to ours.”

The 3 of them stepped out into the cool night air, the campus mostly quiet except for the gentle souns of the breeze through the trees. Paige leaned a little on Caroline as they walked toward the dorms, her ankle throbbing but manageable.

When they reached Azzi’s building, Aubrey smiled again. “Alright, P, we’ll drop this off with you. You sure you’re good ?”

Paige nodded, cheeks flushed from the day and the long ride. “Yea. Thanks for helping.”

Caroline and Aubrey gave her supportive grins before heading off to their own dorms, leaving Paige standing at Azzi’s door with her duffle and the giant unicorn tucked under her arm.

Paige shifted the weight of the unicorn in her arms and pulled out her phone, fingers moving quickly.

Paige: im outside your door :)

A second later, the door opened.

Azzi stood there in a hoodie and shorts, eyes immediately locking onto Paige and then the massive, glittery unicorn she was holding out like some kind of ridiculous offering.

“What— ?” Azzi blinked, then laughed in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Paige said, her voice low and a little sheepish, lips twitching into a tired smile.

Azzi reached out and took the unicorn like it was made of glass, hugging it close to her chest. “This is… insane. And perfect. Thank you. Seriously.”

She glanced down at Paige’s ankle, the compression wrap still snug with some ice, and then quickly stepped aside. “Come in.”

Paige stepped past her, limping slightly, and Azzi followed, grabbing the duffle bag from her shoulder without a word.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Azzi turned and wrapped her arms around Paige.

Azzi’s chin tucked over Paige’s shoulder, Paige burying her face into Azzi’s neck. They didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just stood there, breathing in each other’s presence.

“I missed you,” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s fingers curled into the back of Azzi’s hoodie. “Missed you too.”

They pulled back only slightly, still close.

“I was so worried,” Azzi said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Paige’s face. “When you went down… I couldn’t think straight.”

“I’m ok,” Paige murmured. “Just needed to see you.”

Azzi nodded, eyes shining, then motioned gently toward the bed. “Come on. Get off that ankle.”

Paige made her way over slowly, lowering herself down onto Azzi’s bed and leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched out, ankle elevated on a small pillow. Azzi adjusted it carefully, eyes focused.

“Imma grab a new ice pack,” she said, already heading for the mini freezer.

“Thanks,” Paige said, her voice quieter now, the exhaustion catching up with her as she finally let herself relax in the place she’d wanted to be all day.

Azzi came back a moment later, a fresh ice pack wrapped in a towel. She knelt at the foot of the bed, gently replacing the old one on Paige’s ankle.

Azzi stayed there a moment longer, her hand lingering on the new ice pack, like letting go too soon might make Paige wince again. Then quietly, she stood and climbed up onto the bed, easing in beside Paige with a quiet sigh.

She leaned back against the headboard just like Paige, their shoulders brushing, the soft rustle of blankets settling around them. Without a word, Paige lifted her arm, and Azzi tucked into her side like she belonged there, resting her head gently against Paige’s shoulder.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The room was dim and quiet, lit only by Azzi’s desk lamp, casting a soft glow over the unicorn now perched on her chair.

Paige was the first to break the silence, voice low. “We should’ve won that game.”

Azzi nodded lightly against her. “You were unreal, though. The way you moved and hit those jumpers, ran the offense… it was all you. Everyone saw it.”

Paige gave a quiet breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Doesn’t mean much if we lose.”

“It does to me,” Azzi murmured, lifting her head just enough to look up at her. “You were locked in tonight. It was—God, it was so good to watch.”

Paige’s jaw tensed. “I felt it too. Like, I could feel the rhythm of the game. And then…” She trailed off, glancing down at the bandaged ankle. “I planted wrong. One second I’m flying, next second I’m on the floor.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat, then said softly, “When you didn’t get up, my stomach dropped. I thought—I don’t know. I was just really scared.”

Paige looked over, eyes catching on the concern still etched into Azzi’s face.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know,” Azzi whispered. “But it’s you. You’re not supposed to be the one getting hurt. You’re the one who gets back up.”

Paige turned her face away, voice cracking just slightly. “I hate that I couldn’t finish.”

“You gave everything you had,” Azzi said, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers, thumb tracing gently along Paige’s knuckles. “No one who watched that game would say you didn’t.”

Paige leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I just wanted to win.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “I know.”

They sat in silence again, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Then, quietly, Azzi whispered, “You’re here now. That’s all I wanted tonight.”

Paige opened her eyes, turning to her.

She tightened her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her a little closer.

“Me too.”

The room stayed quiet.

Azzi stayed tucked into her side, her weight warm and grounding, her head resting just below Paige’s collarbone. Their fingers were still laced together, and Paige could feel the slow, steady rhythm of Azzi’s thumb brushing over hers, over and over like it was the only thing keeping them both tethered to the moment.

But Paige’s mind wasn’t still.

It was spinning—softly, slowly, with a kind of ache that sat somewhere between fear and wanting.

She could feel it rising, curling in her chest, in her throat.

The urge to make a move on her.

She didn’t know when it started. Maybe it had been building since that first night Azzi pulled her into a hug that lingered a second too long. Or maybe since the facetime call, when Azzi’s voice softened just for her. Or maybe it was this exact second, when everything felt a little cracked open and unguarded.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, so loud she was almost sure Azzi could hear it.

She glanced down.

Azzi was looking ahead, quiet and calm, completely still against her.

And beautiful. Not in the way people always said it like a compliment, but in a way that made Paige’s breath catch, like Azzi was the only thing in the room that felt real.

Paige lifted her hand free from Azzi's grasp slowly, hesitating only for a heartbeat before brushing her fingers under Azzi’s chin.

Azzi turned her face up at the touch, eyes meeting Paige’s.

Something shifted.

A silent, slow gravity pulling them in.

Paige leaned down just a little, her hand guiding Azzi’s face toward her. Azzi didn’t resist as she leaned too, just as slowly, her eyes flicking down to Paige’s lips, breath catching.

There was a pause and then they met.

Soft.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s like she was testing the edge of something she wasn’t sure she deserved. Azzi melted into it instantly, her hand coming up to rest lightly on Paige’s chest, right over her heart feeling the way it raced beneath her palm.

The kiss deepened gently, their mouths moving in quiet sync, slow and warm and aching with everything they hadn’t said. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, and Paige followed her lead, her tongue just barely slipping past the edge, tasting her—soft, patient, nothing rushed.

Azzi sighed softly into her mouth, a small sound that made Paige’s whole body pulse.

They stayed like that, kissing in slow rhythm, breaths mingling, hearts loud in their chests.

When they finally parted, it wasn’t sudden. Just a slow, natural pull away, foreheads nearly touching.

Neither of them spoke.

Azzi smiled first—just a tiny, breathless curve of her lips.

Paige smiled back, eyes soft, thumb still brushing along Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi then tucked herself back against Paige as they intertwined their hands again and they just sat there in the stillness, pressed close, eyes shining, lips swollen and hearts steady in the quiet hum of something new.

Paige swallowed once, her eyes flicking down to their intertwined hands. Her thumb rubbed lightly along Azzi’s again, slower this time, almost nervous.

“I never really told you…” Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I kept telling myself it was nothing. That you were just a friend, or my tutor… someone I could lean on.”

Azzi’s eyes stayed fixed on hers, patient and steady.

“But… I think I’ve felt something more for a while,” Paige admitted, the weight of the truth loosening from her chest. “I tried to ignore it. I thought maybe it was just me, or that it would pass.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. “You’re not alone,” she said quietly. “I’ve been feeling it too. More than I wanted to admit.”

Paige’s heart skipped, the tension breaking in a fragile kind of relief.

“So… maybe,” Paige said, breath catching a little, “maybe we should stop pretending this is just friendship. What do you think about… going on a date ? Like, really going out ?”

Azzi’s smile widened, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I think that sounds perfect.”

They both laughed softly, a mix of nervousness and happiness blooming between them.

Before they could say more, Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, and kissed her agin slowly and tenderly.

Azzi leaned into it, returning the kiss with the same gentle warmth.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads brushing, Paige let out a small, sheepish breath of a laugh. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I probably should’ve saved the first kiss for after the date.”

Azzi smiled, her voice soft. “It’s ok, I’m glad you didn’t.”

Their smiles lingered, quiet and full.

Then Azzi shifted just slightly, her voice a low whisper against Paige’s skin.

“Wait—before we fall asleep,” she said, pulling back with a small smile. “I gotta take a picture. For the memories. First kiss deserves some documentation.”

Paige blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

Azzi was already slipping off the bed, grabbing her camera from the shelf by her desk. “Cmon,” she said, eyes gleaming as she held it up, walking back toward the bed. “We’re doing two. So we each get one.”

Paige rolled her eyes affectionately, but sat up straighter as Azzi climbed back beside her, camera held out in 1 hand as she leaned in again.

Their lips met just as the first flash went off—soft and smiling into the kiss, the moment sealed in light.

They kissed again for the second photo, slower this time, just as full of warmth. Azzi clicked the shutter and they parted again, both of them breathless with quiet laughter as the second polaroid whirred out of the camera.

A few minutes later, once the pictures had developed, Azzi grabbed a pink gel pen from her desk drawer and took 1 of the prints carefully in her hands.

She wrote the date in tiny numbers at the bottom of the polaroid’s border.

Then, she stood in front of her combo board in front of her desk, where other polaroids were already pinned—all of them including Paige.

She added the new 1 right next to them. The kiss. The beginning.

Paige watched from the bed, quiet, something soft blooming in her chest.

Azzi turned back to her with a grin, holding out the other photo. “Yours to keep.”

Paige took it, smiling down at the image in her hand. Then she looked up at Azzi.

“Thanks Az,” she whispered.

They crawled under the covers together, lights dimming, the world softening as they both drifted to sleep.

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

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #wbb #dallas wings #wnba

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caxde · 3 days ago

Text

truly | eddie munson x reader

summary you and eddie are best friends, oblivous to each others' feelings until someone helps you realise (4.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! based on this ask!

You were a bit too deep inside your thoughts, as you often were. You hair was half up, hair loose on the front framed your face in a way that made you seem even more concentrated than you actually were. Your left hand was lost on the back of your neck, messaging that spot in a repetitive manner that soothes you. Your right hand was scribbling down the frame ideas for the essay that was due in a couple days.

Eddie noticed as soon as he entered the dining hall. You had used your free period to set yourself into a quiet corner, bathed by the weak sunlight of the late morning. He knew you had barely moved from your spot, the crease on your blue jeans that always formed if you stopped moving had been there for a while. He smiled shyly to himself before asking the lunch lady that was setting up everything if she could give him some water for you, he knew she’d say yes since it was for you. The kindness that you always showed her was something Eddie usually used to his advantage. A lot of snacks that he promised were for you were usually for him. A red apple if he was bored, whatever soda she’d give if he was still craving something sweet and whatever wrapped up candy bar she had left when he needed a bargain chip for something else.

This time, the lunch lady smiled to herself as soon as she saw how he approached you. Slowly, trying his hardest not to disturb you. His right hand replaced your left, messaging that same spot you had been mindlessly rubbing for over an hour. Your eyes met in that same moment, when the bottled water hitted the table. The soft warm light framed the encounter, a perfect photograph.

Eddie’s wild curly hair seemed longer when he was standing over you, and you enjoyed how it bounced once he sat down and shook his head.

He didn’t say anything, there really was no need.

He grabbed your notebook and eyed your scribbling right before trying to hide his chuckling. You playfully punched him in the arm, while you took the first sip of water in god knows how long. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until the water touched your lips.

Half of the bottle was now empty.

Eddie glanced at it before letting his lips curl, just as you pushed your hair behind your ear.

“I thought you had already finished Mrs.White essay” He finally said, leaving the notebook right where it was, his body shifting so his legs were in between the bench, looking directly at you.

“I did.” You pointed out, looking back at his brown eyes, the sun hitting them always makes them seem brighter, like melted chocolate you thought. “This one’s yours.” You shook your head, pushing the notebook into him.

“How…Why would you…” He didn’t really know how to formulate the question, a bit too dumbfounded to even process the information you were giving to him.

“You have Hellfire tonight.” You say, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “And you haven’t even started reading the book yet… so… Just copy it so it has your handwriting once I’m done, ‘kay?”

“You’re an Angel.” He says, astonished. He can feel his cheeks getting warmer for a second before he shakes his head, leaning closer to you so he can leave a small kiss on your cheek. Partially to say thank you, though deep down he knows he’s doing it so he can see you bite down the inside of your cheek, in an attempt to not blush as quickly as he had done.

“Yeah, you can pay me later.” You joke, returning his gesture with your knee bumping into his leg. “The water doesn’t count.” You say before he can, his index finger already pointing at it.

“Oh come on! You were about to die of dehydration.”

“Denise gave it to you!”

“I did, loverboy.” You can’t help but giggle as soon as you hear her interfere. But maybe it was because seeing Eddie flustered and rolling his eyes made your chest tighten in a way you were unfamiliar with.

“Loverboy?” Eddie questioned with his voice barely above a whisper, even you didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, getting your attention once again. “You should clear the table.” He added in a hush tone, nodding to the opening doors of the dining hall. You smiled as you started to put your things away, tucked neatly into your beat-up backpack. Everything but Eddie’s half done essay was away. He left you scribbling away, while a hoard of hungry students invaded the previously quiet space.

Robin sat down next to you, with her usual soft “hi” right before she peered over your shoulder so she could see what you were writing. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the words you were writing.

“Eddie doesn’t know what perhaps means.” She points out teasing you with a smirk once you look right at her.

“He has to.” You argue, not really focusing on her teasing, not wanting to get into it. Not really wanting to understand what it means. “He has read The Hobbit like fifty times.”

“That’s why he keeps reading it.” She continues, unwrapping her homemade sandwich. The smell of melted cheese hits your nose, making your stomach rumble with hunger. “He doesn’t understand it.” You can’t help but laugh with her. That kind of laugh that makes your cheeks hurt after a while.

“What are you up to on Saturday?” You ask in your usual cheerful voice, trying desperately to change the topic of conversation away from the curly headed boy.

“I’m covering Steve’s turn at Family Video, so I guess I won’t leave until I close. Yey for double shifts.” She cheers in a monotone voice that makes the right side of your lips curl upwards.

“Yay for money?” You try to make her chuckle, with little success.

“I guess.” She plays a bit with the crust of her sandwich before she takes a bite out of it. “Why couldn’t my parents be made of money?”

“Hey, at least you have parents.” Eddie joins back at your table, closely followed by his little followers. You scoot so everyone barely fits.

“Are you feeding a whole town by yourself?” Robin snaps back, as her eyes widen at the size of Eddie’s overstuffed plates.

“Nah, just taking advantage of the American School System.” He chuckles as his little finger pushes the tray in your direction, in a subtle way, so you won’t notice.

Robin does notice however. And so does Dustin. They exchange a knowing look that you both don’t see. You’re way too deep into the way his mouth moves whenever he is explaining a nonsense story like he is now, his hair softly brushing his pale cheeks everytime he ends a sentence, and Eddie is too enamored by the way your eyes shine at him, as he feels how every word makes your lips curl upwards, drawing a big smile on your face.

You pick at his food, and he just smiles down at you whenever he catches you eating something. He knows you have a hard time remembering to feed yourself, even more so when you’re deep in concentration, once he saw you sitting alone being engulfed by various papers he knew you hadn’t eaten, and how you probably wouldn’t until you had finished or gotten home. He smiled back with his eyes half closed making those tiny lines appear next to his eyes, a type of smile you knew well. A please do anything you want, a please keep doing exactly what you are doing, a please never leave my side kind of smile.

“psst” Dustin whispered into Robin’s ear, hitting her arm with his elbow.

“What!?” She half whispered as she turned around quickly, her eyes almost out of her head, as she rubbed the spot where he hit her.

“What do we do?” He asks, nodding to the both of you. The angelical image you both formed looked straight out of a painting. The looks of admiration between the both of you were enough for anyone else to realise something was happening.

“We?”

“Yeah, they’re smart, but they’re also idiots.” Dustin overenunciated every word, as he usually does when he’s whispering. Robin rolled her eyes at the image of you, falling deep and without breaks, with you not even realising it.

“We could kidnap them.” She half jokes, talking to Dustin’s ear while her eyes were still fixated onto you. “Put them in nice clothes and chuck them into a restaurant.” She chuckled as she ended the sentence, her voice picking the paste as she got more excited about those nonsense ideas.

“Eddie doesn’t do restaurants. Says they’re an elitist nightmare fruit of capitalism or something like that. He does like dinners though.” Dustin points out in a monotone whisper, his head now turned to both of you.

“That’s your issue with what I said?”

“Pretty much.” Dustin answers nonchalantly. “We could just talk to them.”

“And tell them what, exactly?” Robin raises her eyebrow as she quickly glances at Dustin, right when you’re laughing at one of Eddie’s bad jokes.

“Just… I don’t know. That they’re stupid, and they obviously like each other.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t call them stupid.” Robin points out.

“Yeah, I know.” Dustin waits for a moment as he watches Eddie shake his head just so he can see you smile widen. “But they are, right?”

“Oh.” Robin waits as she watches you leaving your hand on the high part of his tight, squeezing it softly. Eddie’s eyes open a bit as they shine a bit more. “Absolutely they are.”

By the time you reached your car, your backpack still half opened with a notebook blocking the zipper’s way, Robin was already sitting on the hood of the red chipped paint. You smiled at her as you pushed the little button on your keys, hearing the loud noise it did as it unlocked, making the short haired girl jump as she laid her feet on the ground once more, opening the passenger door as she found her way in. You opened your door, passing her your backpack as you dove in, head first and turning the key on the same movement, knowing that the sooner you had your windows down, the better the heat that had accumulated from a long day would be handled.

Robin kicked her almost empty bag under her feet, as she tightly held onto the overly stuffed one that was hanging from your shoulders as she looked attentively at you. You playfully mistake that level of attention, guessing that she needed confirmation that you remembered that she was working that afternoon.

“Don’t worry.” You chirp as your hands start changing the car gear’s. “I’ll have you at Family Video in ten minutes.”

“What?” She mumbled as she was focused on the wrong thing once more.

“Are you not working today?” You answer back as you stop at a red light, looking at her for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed as she nods her head yes.

“Yeah, but what’re you doing?” She is speaking in that frenetic tone, the one she usually uses when she’s eager to make a point. So you decide to speak calmly, if only to bring some sense into the conversation.

“I’m heading to Edd’s, I finished his essay and he has Hellfire. He told me I could stay in his room so I can keep working on homework. So I’ll already be there for pizza night once you and Steve get there.”

“You do realise how that sounds right?” Her words were coated with honey, making you raise an eyebrow at her. She took your silence as a response and continued talking. “You’re practically dating.”

“Fuck off.” You warned. Cheeks burning red, your teeth biting the inside of them.

“Oh come on dude!” She pleaded now, punching your arm as you turned left. “You obviously like each other! You do his homework, always try to be near him, laugh at every single one of his stupid jokes, you let him take care of you and you look at him as if he's the answer you can’t find in your books.”

She runs out of breath by the end, looking at you, needing you to realise what everyone already has, but you just stay the same. A vacant stare through the windshield as the car slowly stops.

“Robs…” There’s a sliver of pain in your voice. “As much as I’d like that to be true, it can’t be.” You shake your head as you take your backpack so she can leave the car.

“It is true though…”

“Maybe.” You add with a shy smile. “But I can’t have that in my head now.” You add, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You want it to be true?” Robin asks with hopefulness clear in her voice, her eyes gleaming at the possibility.

“Yes.” You admit not only to your friend, but to yourself.

Meanwhile, Dustin had a very similar approach. He had followed Eddie closely to his van, screaming for him to wait, and reminding him that he promised a ride to his house, since Gareth would drive him back. Eddie agreed, with a snarl as he opened the passenger door. The van was old, and it needed a stronger approach for it to actually open and close, the windows never closed all the way and a vague smell of weed always emanated from the back.

“Who’s coming to today’s session?” Dustin questions with a very openly hidden intention.

“Uh, Mike, Gareth, Lucas, Jeff, Erica I think and uh… Angel.” He added your nickname last, with a soft grin appearing in his face as soon as it leaves his lips.

“She’s playing?”

“No, no. She’ll just hang out in my room, we’ve got pizza night with Robs and Steve”

“Your room?”

“Yeah” Eddie brushes it off, as if it is no big deal, as if it meant nothing. Dustin was staring with daggers in his eyes.

“Dude…”

“What?”

“Oh. Come. On.” Dustin overly enunciates every word, his eyes opening wider with every syllable. “Did you ask her to? You know what, it actually doesn’t matter, you’re way too thick to even get it. You like like this girl. You make her laugh with every idiotic thing that leaves your mouth, she does everything in her power to help you and you always make time and an effort to be close to her, come on Edward!” Eddie stops the car suddenly, the use of his government name takes him by surprise, even more so than the overly explanation to his unthought actions regarding you and his -apparently- very obvious feelings.

“You didn’t have to call me Edward.” He tries deeply to change the topic, a bit too embarrassed to actually talk it out.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, I know.” He apologises in a defeated tone. “Is it really that obvious?” Dustin nods as they look at each other, the van slowly starting again. “You really think she feels the same?” Dustin nods again. “Fuck.”

It had been weird.

For both of you.

Dustin didn’t stop laughing, even if he did try to not make it obvious.

The way he opened the door didn’t follow his usual routine. He didn’t tease you, he didn’t mess with your hair or make fun of you for obsessively positioning your shoes by the entrance.

Instead, his voice shook a bit when he opened the door, the sound of your name in a raspy whisper you never had heard from him before. Instead a small conversation with a pleasant tone erupted, a very mechanical “hi” “hi” “you can wait in my room, shout if you need anything” before he sprinted off, his face red.

You were left by yourself, inside his messily organized room. All of his black thick cords were neatly and carefully wrapped, yet left on a corner of his room right by his dresser. You also noted the half empty ashtrays on his table, the one he wanted you to use, and the faint smell they left. The array of magazines stacked by the foot of his bed, ranging from cars and mechanical magazines, gracing through music and a half hidden obscene one. He had various photos, drawings, drabbles and lyrics written on different pieces of paper glued to his walls. Corroded Coffin’s flyers, photos he had taken up on the lake, him smiling while he posed with the band, him concentrated in the middle of a D&D session. Right by his bed, there was a sunny day one. You remember that day, it was last summer, and you decided to walk through the woods in search of a cool spot, somewhere that would only be known by the both of you. You found that little pond, and you stayed there for hours, looking at the small frogs, collecting flowers for your room and singing songs he was obsessed with. You sketched a bit while he took a picture of you, peaceful, perfect, undisturbed you. You felt yourself smiling when you realised he had the drawing right next to it, a small heart had been added with black ink.

You tried to concentrate on the remaining homework you had left, but you kept getting distracted, your eyes subconsciously landing on that photograph.

With Robin’s words still ringing in your ear, you still didn’t know what to do, or what to feel.

Eddie’s weirdness hadn’t helped.

You usually spoke to him when you needed help to understand yourself, he usually did that better than you anyway. You started to realise how much of that was true, he always seems to know exactly how to calm you down when you have a million things going over your head at the same time, even the times you're not conscious about it, he does it. And it is quite simple. It's just a touch. The coldness of his rings finds your skin, leg, arm, neck; it doesn't matter. His hand lays on top of your skin and his fingers just hold you, a bit firm, right before moving softly. That is all it takes. You’re grounded again, and you know you’re safe, because he is there. And if Eddie is there, and if he is that close to you, nothing can be wrong.

This feeling stays with you now.

nothing can be wrong

You’re in his bedroom, because it’s full of him, every single thing he owns and loves is inside, and it smells of him. The freshly burned sandalwood that impregnates every piece of clothing he owns, in a desperate attempt to hide the cigarette smoke that you’ve grown to love. Candles have been blown out right before you came, the rim of them still burned. You can feel his panic, he must’ve gone through the room whilst Dustin was right behind him, and if you know something about that, Dustin must have been giving him the exact same speech Robin did to you.

The carefulness that he had put out in making sure you were comfortable, because he is well aware of how much you despise being on such a big house by yourself, and the hard time you have concentrating and remembering to take care of yourself was clear now. He keeps inviting you to hang out, he keeps asking you to come over and there’s always food and drinks out for you, all so you don’t have to think about it. Because he cares.

he cares.

Nothing can be wrong, he cares.

You are starting to wonder if that caring is the same kind of care you feel for him.

You can’t really remember a time you haven’t known him. You can’t imagine your life without him if you’re being honest. That scrawny young boy with a buzzed head that was starting to learn how to play guitar had grown right beside you. You remember after school hours where you taught him how to play the guitar, and how he now tries to get you to play with him, even if he knows you’ll say no since you’ve got a new project or a new essay that needs a few tweaks. Wade will tease him, telling him how he needs to be more like you, but you’ve always dismissed it.

You like being there for him, you like it when he asks for help with a paper he doesn’t quite have the energy to finish, you like it when he needs help with the final details of his campaign, you like it when he asks for your opinions in his lyrics because “I trust your mind more than I do mine”, you like it when he asks you to cut your hair with a big dumb smile in his lips… His lips, you think I also like his lips.

Without really thinking, you abandon the homework, letting your body crumble into his mattress. The smell of his shampoo is intoxicating. You had made fun of him when you saw “amarath and jasmine shampoo” in his shower, but he had said that “those curls are expensive, darling” you giggled at the memory. Your eyes closed remembering the smile he had on his lips while he teased you back. his lips.

You can’t seem to focus on anything else. They always looked pinker in real life than in your memories, not cracked but smooth. Everytime they said your name, some part of your skin bloomed with goosebumps, your heart skipped a bit, just to relax right after. They had the warmest smile and sang the most angelical laugh you had ever heard. Speaking of song, his voice when he had a mic in front of them was truly out of this world.

It has to be true, you think at this moment this has to be what love feels like.

You could feel your cheeks burning at the thought of it. That vulnerability was a different kind to the one you were used to share with him.

It scares the fuck out of you.

And yet, a sense of relief invades you.

You feel like you need to tell him, you’ve always shared your secrets with him, what’s one more?

Not now, you think, Hellfire’s still running.

Your hand flings above your head, you want to scratch your own head, wanting to sooth yourself, instead, you find your fingers hitting the cold surface of his old acoustic guitar.

The once light brown wood surface was not badly painted with black acrylic paint, and a faded sentence you could no longer read in chipped white paint. You smile at yourself, picking it up instead.

You’re not really thinking, if you were you wouldn’t have started playing meaningless chords.

You’re thankful you’re not thinking.

You had forgotten how easily it calms you down, your fingers playing with the strings, whilst your brain thinks about playing with his tangled hair.

It’s easy. It’s like breathing.

You don’t really know how long it’s been. You just know you’ve started to play guitar and nothing else matters, you’re in love with him and nothing else matters.

Eddie knows something has changed as soon as he reaches his door.

You usually studied in silence, murmuring to yourself, repeating your notes aloud. As soon as he hears the soft strummings of his out of tune guitar he knows something has changed.

He is hopeful that maybe you have realised what he had earlier.

While he was cleaning his room with Dustin beside him, he was just telling him obsessively why you are such a great person, and why he’s so afraid to lose you to something so stupid like love. He had said that you are not only a good friend to him, but to everyone, you're empathetic and unbelievably kind, you make him feel like a warm shower after rain had left him drenched, you were the most beautiful soul he knew, inside and out. And it scared him shitless that you might not feel the same.

But now, as he carefully opened his bedroom door, he could see you were smiling as you graced the strings, soft and calm notes escaping from the old guitar. Your perfume was mixed in the air, and he felt that flutter in his stomach.

He walked slowly, not wanting to interrupt.

You smiled as soon as you felt his eyes on you.

His hand laid on your thigh. That touch. That nothing can be wrong touch.

“You’re playing guitar.” He whispers, his breath brushing your cheek. You look back at him, your fingers still messing with the strings. You lock eyes, his pupils expand as soon as you look at him. You feel as if your heart was about to explode, wanting to communicate too many feelings at the same moment.

“I taught you how” You whisper back. Stoping the notes so he could hear your voice, clearer.

“Don’t stop.” He pleaded, his tone sounding more like a whimper. “I haven't heard you in years”

“Eddie.” You feel the shakiness in your voice, and so must he, as he tightens the grip on your thigh. “I…”

“What?”

“I think I may be in love with you.” It just slips out. So naturally, so casually. As if you’ve said it a million times before. As if it is no big deal.

“What?” He asks again, his eyes widening, his heart beating faster. He can’t quite believe your words. Even if they are now forever engraved into his brain.

You let go of his guitar, your fingers now playing with his hair, which is all they want to do.

You find that one of your hands has found the back of his neck, and it pushes his lips against yours.

They feel even better than you have imagined. And it’s natural, it’s as easy as breathing, as carefree as a bird flying. It is what it should be.

His lips pressed against yours fit like the perfect puzzle they are, and his free hand is now under your chin, holding you closer so he can taste as much of you as he can.

It feels like heaven.

It’s a confirmation.

It a I’m in love with you, and the response I am too.

You don’t really need anything else, so you stay exactly like that for a long time, enjoying each other with no rush, with a calmness and a stillness that is unbecoming of both of you, who always seem to be in a rush.

“I feel safe with you, and I always want to be next to you. Nothing else matters.” You whisper once you break the kiss, your eyes closed as you press your forehead against his.

“Nothing else matters.” He whispers back.

He can’t help but chuckle a bit, now that he gets to kiss you every time he wants to, now that he knows you feel exactly as he does.

Deeply, truly, madly in love with each other.

The smile on both of your faces and the knowing glances now have a different meaning, and it is obvious that something has changed, yet nothing hasn’t. There was love before, now it has just been declared.

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

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sundeans · 2 days ago

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Listen, I touch grass, okay? I totally understand *most* shows are not catering to my ships and that's okay.

But with this it's a little different.

There are already multiple canonically queer characters in the show and as a queer person, I believe their stories to be really really good representation.

Michael who was always gay and afraid to be or couldn't be his authentic self and married a woman and stayed with her anyways despite his sexuality because of not feeling safe to be his true self. Eventually leaving the marriage later in life and continuing to be really good friends with his ex and Co parent their children. Finding a man he truly loves to marry.

I think that is a very realistic portrayal of a black, gay man who is his age. It makes sense that people were not quite accepting when he was younger so he felt he had to be someone he was not to feel safe. I think it's really beautiful that he maintained a good relationship with his ex wife and children after finally deciding to live his true self. While it doesn't always work out that way, it can because even if they didn't work out romantically, they still loved each other and supported each other.

Hen who is a black lesbian who starts working at the 118. The firehouse is full men who are very bigoted, especially captain at the time Gerrard. She feels like an outsider from the group and like no one wants to give her a chance to do her job. Chim attempts to befriend her anyway and eventually succeeds. She hides her sexuality from her coworkers at first, having heard them talk, knows they are pretty bigoted. Eventually she snaps and tells them exactly who she is and they still don't see her as someone capable of doing the job until she proves them wrong on calls. They soon come to accept her and treat her better than before (even if they're still bigoted). Even before she opened up to Chim, he had her back from Day 1 and that really helped Hen's confidence and helped her find her place in the firehouse. She's married to another Black Lesbian who have a child together. While their relationship over the show is really sweet. It's not perfect. In the first season she cheats on Karen her wife, with her ex girlfriend who is also the biological mother of Hen and Karen's child. Hen faces the consequences of Karen not being able to trust her for quite a while and has to put in the effort herself to mend their relationship. While it's not easy eventually she does and they move past it. But it will still always affect Karen no matter what. They eventually adopt another child together and are a very happy family.

I think it's realistic because many people, even today face homophobia and racism in the world, and especially the workplace. It's a very common problem for any queer or poc person to face unfortunately.

Hen's relationship is realistic because not every relationship is picture perfect. People make mistakes. Hen made this mistake and had to face the consequences of it. SHE had to do the work to fix their relationship. But ultimately she loved Karen and made sure to not take for granted what an amazing wife she had. She made the changes and effort to change herself and her behavior. This is very good character growth and I love to see it portrayed in media.

Josh is another lgbtq+ perspective where he is out and proud about who he is though we don't have much on his story atp.

Then we have Buck.

A young firefighter who frequently hooks up with women, and later tries to seriously date with none of his relationships working out for him. He faces issues with moving too fast and rushing things and getting into relationships quickly due to fear of being alone that stems from his abandonment issues. He has a couple long term relationships Abby who he truly loved eventually left him without ever breaking up with him properly and allowing him to believe they were still together for far too long, then Taylor, they work really well together and have a good relationship until he asks her to move in just so he won't be alone. She eventually breaks his trust sharing something he told her in confidence. He eventually meets Tommy former 118 firefighter. This ends up with Tommy kissing Buck and him having his Bisexual Awakening.

This showcases a man in his 30s realizing he's not as straight as he thought he was when he thought his whole life he was straight and never realized his attraction to men until he was 32. There are a lot of reasons someone may not realize their identity until later and it's not an uncommon experience for queer people. Before it was accepted as much it was easy to not even consider other options because well, men/women is the normal. You might not even consider it a possibility for a long time just because you never really thought about it. Plenty of people don't discover themselves until later in life.

That's why I think these are not only good lgbtq+ rep but also realistic, because it's so true to the queer community that there's no age or time limit to being queer, finding who you are or finding happiness. There is no cookie cutter image of what a queer person is. Queer people can be good, they can be bad, they can be any kind of person. We will make mistakes and learn like anyone else. That's why these are realistic portrayals of queer people.

That being said, in the context of Buddie

Buck and Eddie's relationship is special no doubt and always has been. And yes, a lot of these moments CAN be justified as things just friends would do.

*But* there are also things in addition that are not so "just friends" and that add that tension and chemistry between their characters.

Eddie's relationships, have all been with women and he claims to be a straight man.

His first relationship, Shannon. He gets her pregnant and Eddie admits that him and Shannon both felt pressured by their family and church to get married. He loved Shannon yes, but not romantically. He admits that he loved being married to her, notice the wording. He never says he was in love with her. After they got married he enlisted and spent multiple years away from her and when he came back was emotionally distant from her. He actively avoiding connecting emotionally with Shannon, as well as his later girlfriends. He was never in love with Shannon. I do believe he loved her as a friend and partner but there's no evidence to him loving her romantically. With his girlfriends he frequently had sex to avoid emotional connection and when it got too serious he started having panic attacks and then unable to be intimate with Marisol.

Eddie has said he has a lot of catholic guilt, which is obvious. He felt pressured by catholicism to get married and to commit to the women he is with but he's never actually happy and in love in any of those relationships.

This can easily be seen as a queer person who is repressed and/or in denial about who they are. This sort of thing is also not uncommon in the lgbtq+ community. Many people growing up with highly religious and often bigoted families. A lot of these people end up repressing at least some part of themselves at some point in their life. So while it's possible that wasn't meant to be where Eddie's story is going, it can easily be interpreted that way by any queer person.

It shows signs of someone who wasn't allowed to be queer, wasn't allowed to like anyone other than the opposite sex. Was supposed to get married and have kids. Someone who has to repress their true selves because they are not safe being who they are. It sounds like he was taught very specific beliefs from a young age and feels guilty because none of that is who he is or what he wants and he has to keep repressing.

Then we have Buck, who recently realized his own Bisexuality.

Discovering this starts out with Buck feeling left out and jealous because Eddie and Tommy have suddenly started hanging out a lot, without him. Buck basically throws a tantrum about it and gets Eddie hurt trying to get Eddie's attention. While saying how cool Tommy is he is listing off everything Tommy and Eddie have in common. Tommy talks to Buck and ends up kissing him. Making Buck realize, oh. I like men too. Tommy eventually tells Buck he sees Eddie as romantic competition for Buck. When Buck says Eddie is straight Tommy scoffs at that. Buck then says "I don't have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for and I don't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with"

Which idk about yall but I think that was a blatant admission of his feelings for Eddie even if Buck himself doesn't realize.

Eddie putting Buck in his will for guardianship of Chris. Eddie says he doesn't trust anyone more than him to take care of Chris. He didn't even trust Shannon enough to let her see him.

Eddie got shot and was asking if BUCK was okay. The way Buck reacted to him getting shot in front of him. The way Buck was trying to dig through the dirt to find eddie that one time. Yes they all care about Eddie but the only one reacting to that extreme was Buck.

I almost FORGOT the "Do you wanna go for the title" scene! First of all. I don't talk to platonic friends that way. That was very suggestive and flirty. That's only someone you would say if you're flirting. And the body language of Buck and Eddie. Eddie's eyes and the way Buck grabs his belt and walks and leans closer while saying it. That way as Oliver Stark puts it "very gay" there's literally no straight explanation for that one. That was pure sexual tension.

There are a lot of romantic tropes used between Buck and Eddie through the show and even if they didn't ever plan on Buddie, they certain alluded to it and hinted if not admitted Buck has feelings for Eddie at least. Even if one-sided. So it is absolutely not a stretch to say 911 is queerbaiting or might be queerbaiting because we don't know their endgame yet. But if they don't AT LEAST admit that Buck is in love with Eddie than I can say confidently it would be queerbait. There has been more than enough supporting evidence even before Buck realized he was bi. There was a lot of evidence and suggesting to Buddie throughout the show. Whether they ever planned to make Buddie canon or not.

So no, Buddie Shippers don't have their "fanfic goggles" on. It's reasonable to believe we might be being queerbaited.

Probably the most asshole thing I'm gonna say in my life but guys, guys... *holds your hand* I think this one was on you.

I don't think this is queerbait, and I don't think the show ever intended for buddie to be a thing. I think this was an echo chamber effect of people telling each other 9-1-1 was the gay firefighter show and is time to take a step back.

It was always clear to me they were just friends. The show made it clear multiple times. They are best friends, they love each other, they trust each other. Maybe that's all it is and you need to wonder why you ever thought it was something different.

There is no ambiguity, not that much room to interpretation. No actual evidence.

All I see as a still kind of oursider is fans gaslighting each other episode after episode to think this is some elaborate slow burn romance story and every time someone says that's not the case they MUST be lying.

Maybe there is no secret message every time they look at each other. Maybe their friendship really is that profound and it doesn't mean they are in love. Maybe Eddie has never admited to liking men because he actually doesn't like them.

Maybe the show is not and never was what you want it to be and that is okey.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 3 days ago

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the ghost of the past. l Joel Miller

Summary: someone from the past found you in Jackson

Warnings: a bit of fluff but mostly angst, Reader is pregnant, fear and anxiety, some swearing, memories of life in QZ, talk of smuggling and life before Jackson, tears

A/N: .

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. �� sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The creaking of the stairs was the signal his brain had been waiting for, because Joel woke up immediately. His sense of survival hadn't been lulled by life in Jackson, the soft bed, and the solid meals. The room was dark, except for the faint slivers of streetlights that shone through the uncurtained windows. Joel immediately looked your way, but your spot in the bed was empty. You couldn't sleep.

The last few days had been quite busy - new renovations, the patrol had brought in a group of new refugees, they had also met a few people who wanted to get to the lower states, and Jackson was a safe stop for them.

Joel had been spending more time away from home, and you couldn't help much. So you spent your time babysitting for people who needed it, doing odd jobs. And while you didn't complain, Joel had the feeling that you were feeling more and more removed from all your responsibilities.

You had become a bit withdrawn and tense, although whenever you saw Ann or another resident of Jackson, you plastered a beautiful smile on your face. But Joel knew you, he had seen it all.

The wooden floor was cool beneath his feet as he got out of bed and walked to the door, opening it quietly. The house was dark and quiet. The stairs barely gave way under his weight, but when Joel made his way downstairs, he noticed you curled up on the couch, covered in a warm blanket.

“Baby?” he said quietly, not wanting to scare you.

A quick movement, like wiping away a tear, and then your answer. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry, Joel. I couldn’t sleep. Please go back to bed, you have a lot of work tomorrow.”

But he didn’t turn around, quite the opposite - he walked over to you and sat down, placing his hand on the couch behind you. “Is everything okay? Do you feel bad or…”

That smile again, the one made for feeling bad. “No, everything’s okay. I just couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

But it wasn’t okay. He could see it all too well, even in this bad light and this late hour.

“You know you can tell me anything? I can handle it. The good and the bad.” His voice was low, warm and soothing. Tears quivered in your eyes as you drew in a quick breath.

You hesitated for a moment. You wondered if you should hide it more, but eventually you gave in.

"I have to tell you something, Joel..."

A few days earlier.

“We met a group heading south,” Shane announced, returning home from his patrol.

You and Ann looked up from the table covered in fabric and sewing equipment. Your friend had come up with the idea of sewing new bedding for the baby’s non-existent crib, and you had been busy since morning.

“Do they have anything interesting to trade?” Ann asked. “I’d give a lot for a coffee.”

You smiled. She and Joel had similar needs.

Shane poured himself some water and sat down in the armchair, wiping his sweaty forehead with his hand. The weather was really nice and spring-like, and the sun was shining brightly for a long time.

“They have some interesting things. I saw a few people have already traded with them,” he replied. His dark eyes landed on you. “You’re growing,” he noted.

“And she's glowing too.” Ann quickly added, scolding him with her gaze.

“Of course!” he laughed. “Four more months, huh?”

“Yeah, I'll look like a baby whale by the end.” You replied with a smile.

“But Joel's still thrilled. I saw him when he…” Shane trailed off, your gaze quickly landing on him. He swallowed. “Never mind.”

Ann picked up the scissors and looked at her husband. “Shane Walsh, are you sure what you were about to say isn't important?”

He nodded.

“A hundred percent?”

Another nod.

"You know I don't believe him." Ann spoke to you in a half-hearted tone and you laughed. "But he'll sing me everything, I have my ways of doing that."

"I'm afraid of you." You said quietly.

"And you're right."

It was like a sudden tsunami, but you didn't see any signs that it would hit. You were unprepared as you exited the bakery and looked up at Tipsy Bison, where a group of loud men had emerged. You didn't know them, but you recognized a few from Jackson. They had to be newbies. But one of them...

You knew that walk and you recognized that voice immediately. As if struck by lightning, you stopped, feeling like your insides had suddenly disappeared. This couldn't be true. Not here. Not after all this time.

You had no chance of escape. You had barely taken a few steps when a voice behind you sounded, sapping the strength from you.

"Oh shit, is that you?!"

You held your breath. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the basket you were carrying, it creaked. A tall man in his forties appeared right in front of you. His dark hair was streaked with more grey than you remembered. His dark eyes stared at you, a delighted smile playing on his lips.

“It’s really you,” he said, looking at you intently. He paused a second longer over his rounded belly. “And you’re… Oh, fuck.”

“Hi, Nathan.” You replied, trying to hide your nervousness. “Good to see you. Alive.”

He tilted his head, scratching his stubbled chin. “Good to see you too, honey. You look really good. Jackson, huh? You’ve come a long way.”

“Just passing through, right? I don’t think you have any purpose in staying here?” you replied.

Nathan shoved his hands into his pants pockets and looked around the main street of Jackson with a lazy smile. “We were planning on going to Mexico. I heard about a big settlement there. You know, the Zone wasn’t safe for us anymore.”

“FEDRA?”

“As well.” He nodded. “But a few other people too. Oh, honey…” You looked at him in surprise. “I missed you so much.”

Nathan Hayes shouldn’t have ended up in Jackson, and you honestly didn’t think he’d ever leave QZ if he hadn’t been forced to. He was incredibly good at smuggling, and his group dominated the zone. But somehow he ended up in Jackson, and the thought of him leaving soon gave you some comfort.

But fate wasn’t on your side, and Nathan seemed to take every opportunity to run into you in Jackson.

“I heard you live with that Miller,” he mumbled as he kept up with you as you walked down the street.

“His name is Joel,” you replied, not even looking at him, but glancing around to see if you saw anyone you knew nearby. “What do you even want?”

Nathan laughed. “I missed you. And you didn’t miss me?”

“No,” you replied quickly. “And I’ll be really happy when you leave. How long do I have to wait?”

He grabbed your elbow and stopped you. But you quickly pulled away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You were nicer to me in the zone.” He said tartly. “And now what? Playing mommy-to-be, huh? Playing house? I saw Miller and his kid. Seriously, honey?”

You felt anger boil in your body. He was doing it again, trying to dominate you, control you again. You knew it all too well.

“It’s none of your fucking business.” You hissed. “You don’t know what Joel and I went through.”

“What we went through, huh?”

You winked. “You can’t be serious.” You snorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “What happened in QZ was just vegetation. Day-to-day living.”

“But we made a great duo, right?” Nathan smiled at the memory of those days. "You were great at smuggling. When you went with that group... Oh, honey. You broke my heart then."

You looked at him in disbelief and anger. For the second time in the past few days, he had returned to what had been, to what connected you, and he always said it with such fondness, like he really missed you. You had met him in Jackson, on the street or at Tipsy Bison. He had seen you with Joel and Ellie, he certainly knew where you lived. You felt more and more trapped with each passing day.

“Were you and him… Were you together at the time? In the zone that you escaped from?” Joel’s question was calm and quiet. He listened to you carefully, and you never said it directly.

“Not in the way I am with you, but...” you took a breath, “People knew that I belonged to him in some way, that we worked together.”

He nodded. Tess had crossed his mind. He'd never mentioned her to you, and he didn't see the point, but she would never make someone close to him feel threatened by her. And you definitely felt that way about Hayes.

"I was young. I had to survive somehow."

“Sweetheart.” Joel took your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “I’m not judging you. We’ve both done things to survive and not all of them were great or good. What matters is what we have now.” He swallowed hard and asked the question that really worried him. “Is this guy threatening you? What does he want?”

“I have no idea.” Tears sparkled in your eyes. “But I see him every time I leave the house. Sometimes I feel like he wants me to go south with him and…” your voice cracked.

You saw a grimace cross Joel’s face. A quick shadow passed over his eyes. “You know I would never do that, right? We’re family.”

He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, murmuring quietly, “I know, I know, sweetheart.”

"I… I ran away from him. Nathan was becoming more and more ruthless. FEDRA was on his heels, and I was taking risks with every step beyond the wall."

"Did he do something to you?"

You shook your head.

"Can he do something now?"

You couldn't answer. What was going on in Nathan's head was a mystery to you. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and soon Joel's strong arms were around you.

“I’m scared he’ll do something stupid. Hurt you or Ellie…” You sobbed quietly. “I’m sorry I’m just now telling you this. I didn’t know… I thought he’d leave me alone, but he didn’t.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, stroking your shoulder, feeling the sobs that shook your body.

He couldn't tell what was going on inside him. So many thoughts and emotions were swirling inside him, and Joel was afraid of what would come of it. He would do anything to keep you safe, especially now, when you were more precious than anything else. And for Ellie.

He didn't know Nathan, but what you said was enough for him.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait @mmmunson @grace-928 @umadirectioner

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #short stories from life #short stories from life series

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iamasaddie · 2 days ago

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boiling

Tommy Miller x f!Reader

summary: What Tommy liked was structure, schedule. What he didn't like was reckless bullshit that you seemed to be a fan of. He also didn't like you, or so he says. warnings: MDNI, implied infidelity, PWtinyP, oral m!recieving, throat fucking, orgasm denial, still big girthy age gap (reader late 20s-30s; Tommy 55), thick Tommy, kinda rude Tommy wc: 2.6k a/n: is this becoming a series? i dunno, maybe. send asks gimme ideas please. this is not heavily edited, english is not my first language all mistakes are my own and yada yada (if u notice a silly mistake dm me pls). previous part | next part ao3

When Tommy was told that you went on a run he didn’t believe first. First, the runners’ outings were spelled out in the schedule, according to which everyone except the patrolmen were supposed to stay in Jackson today.

Second, you weren't one of the runners. Even though you were young and pretty agile, you lacked the necessary skills. You were good with guns and had quick reflexes, but you were dangerously inattentive. With a runner like you, they'd be left with nothing every time.

And third, the runners left in established pairs or threes. It was a matter of speed, trust and safety.

You left alone.

By the rules of Jackson, an unauthorized exit could end up with expulsion from the community, as it entailed an immediate risk. And knowing that, you risked your own place in one of the safest places on earth for what? His attention? If they hadn't needed an extra pair of hands in the stable today, Tommy wouldn't even have thought about you. At least that's what he told himself.

Jackie from the radio room, who quickly had given out all the information about your little trip with her lips pursed, was quietly babbling excuses. The girl swore that she was sure you wouldn't have gone outside alone. You were so confident when you told her about your nonexistent dialogue with Maria.

Tommy clenched his gloved hand into a fist, the leather squeaking and breaking the tensed silence.

“Fuck,” he spat out a curse and headed to get the horse.

You had enough brains to not go too far, yesterday’s report from Alpine was positive –no sign of raiders or infected– so Tommy wasn't too worried. Cold bit his cheeks, and frost formed on his mustache, which already began to shine with gray. Damn it, in this cold, normal people tried to hide their asses in the warmth of their houses, but there wasn't a drop of sense in you.

The horse tensed between his legs as they began to climb the mountain, and Tommy pulled harder on the reins, clucking to the animal.

The remnants of the once small town were well preserved compared to the majority of places he’d seen. The buildings, for the most part, survived year after year without much change, with the exception of cracked windows and occasional raids by overly daring vagrants.

Tommy tried and failed to figure out what exactly you might need there. Absolutely everything that was at least a little useful was cleaned out of the old supermarket and adjacent houses a year ago. All that was left inside was rotting furniture and trash.

He saw Pepper, the horse you particularly liked, tied to a pine next to one of the remote houses. His own stubborn Callus now trotted more confidently, apparently noticing his neighbor from the stable.

After making sure that the horse was securely tied, Tommy armed himself with a gun, making sure that safety was still on and he had enough bullets in the magazine, just in case.

The room greeted him with silence and the smell of mold. After taking a few slow steps deeper, Tommy finally heard muffled curses accompanied by the rumble of drawers opening.

“Oh, come on, really? I cannot fucking believe that.”

He followed the sound and found you kneeling next to an old dresser, pulling out drawers haphazardly and trying to find something. Tommy looked around the room, it was too empty to be messy: a couple of broken chairs, a half-rotten bedframe and this dresser you continued assaulting with your words.

He crept in without making any noise, and even with your usually swift reaction, you didn’t expect anyone there so he went unnoticed as he pointed a gun at the back of your head, almost kissing your crown with the barrel.

“Hands up.”

His voice was lower than usual, and the long ride through the cold with his neck exposed had made him hoarse. With a paused breath, you slowly raised your hands, not even trying to grab a weapon. Did you even bring it with you? Tommy felt a surge of irritation. “Turn around.”

“Tommy?” As you turned around and saw his face, your shoulders relaxed and you swatted the gun from your face with ease. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s my line.” He put the gun in the holster, clicking it in. “You’re not a fucking runner, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly, you stood up from your knees, brushing the dirt of the dark blue jeans that you managed to rip somewhere.

“Why do you care?” You huffed, “are you in love with me or something?”

Somehow, magically, all the calmness and restraint evaporated from him as soon as you opened your mouth. You knew exactly what to say to make him seethe with rage, the destructive feeling overwhelmed him and resulted in physical aggression, which he had been trying to repress ever since he ran away from the fireflies.

“Shut the fuck up.” He took a step towards you, practically pressing you into the corner of an opened drawer. His finger poked you in the chest, the tip of his index finger arched from how hard he pressed on your solar plexus. His eyes never left yours, turning black with every passing moment. “This is not about you, and not about me. I don’t fucking trust you.” For a second, it seemed to him that you twitched from the words like he slapped you in the face, but he did not stop. You always went too far, ignoring the consequences, and it pissed him off.

“I don’t trust that you’ll put a bullet through your thick fucking skull if you happen get bit. I don’t trust that you won’t tell some psychopaths about a nice little village with food and warm beds if they stick a knife in one of your pretty legs.” You kept quiet, lowering your eyes in semblance of shame, your fingers toyed with an edge of your opened flannel shirt, twisting a stray thread but not ripping it off. “That’s why we don’t go alone.”

He was boiling with rage, and when he smelled the already familiar scent of your sweat and skin, he realized how close he was standing. He was practically pressed into your body, his own belly hidden behind a layer of white top, a shirt and a warm winter coat was millimeters away from yours, and the tip of his nose was almost touching your face. After taking another gulp of your air into his lungs, he took a step back, shaking his head.

“What did you need here anyway? We’d searched these homes for goods months ago.”

Once he was out of your personal space, his voice less violent and carrying something that sounded like genuine interest, you felt like you could breathe again. Cockiness and indifference clinked in your words like armour.

“Thought that maybe they had some dicks laying around.” You shrugged your shoulders. “After all, you runners don’t look for shit like that and if some neglected wifey lived here she could’ve had a stache.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tommy looked at you with an indescribable shock, as if you had just admitted that you had started the apocalypse with your own bare hands. When you didn't laugh, signalling a joke, an angry scowl returned to his face. “You’re actually serious.”

“Well, of course I’m serious. If I can’t get the real deal I can at least hope for a fake one!'“ You chuckled, walking past him and heading towards the door. He quickly catches your shoulder, his iron grip makes you hiss in pain. When you look at him with a question in your eyes, he only kisses his teeth and starts unbuttoning his coat, while still holding your srm hostage.

“What?” You ask him, even though you already knew what. You pussy had started throbbing the moment you saw his angry scowl that was soaked in worry.

Not granting you with a reply, he continued undressing hastily, the massive belt buckle –his special pride and joy– clacked loudly as the pull tab smashed into it. Tommy forced you on your knees, pushing you down in one rough movement, and you hissed when your knees hit the cold concrete floor. You let him do it without saying a word.

“What, shy all of a sudden? Wasn’t it what you wanted? Didn’t you just beg for my dick, sugar?” He looked menacing, standing over you like that. He was too close, his bulge almost pressing to your face. It was clear he was at least half-hard already, his jeans barely doing anything to contain his thick cock. His thighs were slightly spread, and even though he wasn’t holding you anymore, you couldn’t move, your mouth opened in surprise. “All hat, no cattle. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

You looked lost, your lips were dry and you swiped your tongue over them watching Tommy’s eyes follow the small movement. He thrusted his hips forward, the cold metal of his belt buckle hitting your lips. “Go on. It’s your last chance, and I am being serious.”

With spoken out permission, your hands start moving on their own. You unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He sighed in relief as his stomach was released. More gently than you planned, you untuck his shirt and a white top underneath, sliding your hands over his belly and giving it a light massage, pressing into the hot skin with your thumbs and rubbing. You could feel the imprints his jeans and belt left, and you wanted to kiss reddened lines, but Tommy grabbed your hands in one of his and pushed them south with a disapproving grunt. You moved his jeans down enough to take his cock out. As you guessed, it was already hard, and a cruel part of you celebrated the fact that he was as excited about the thing as you were. He was just hiding it better. How long did he want you?

You didn’t have an opportunity to see him so upclose, and you spend a fleeting moment studying the dick heavily swaying inches away from your lips.

He was girthy enough to make you doubt yourself, a thick, veiny shaft that was surrounded by black and grey hair at the base. The tip glistened with his need for you, and you felt saliva pooling in your mouth in response. Slowly, you move closer, your lips pressing a wet kiss to him and gathering the salt from the spongy head.

Tommy breathed in through his teeth, the air stinging his lungs like his consciousness stung his mind. Your soft mouth welcomed him inside slowly as you lathered him in your saliva. He was more than a mouthful, and you gagged when he hit the back of your throat, quickly releasing him.

A sticky thread of your saliva mixed with his precum connected your lips to his cock, but instead of giving you a break, Tommy just took his cock between thumb and two fingers and slapped your cheek in a humiliatingly arousing action. Your eyes shot up, and you met the black embers staring back at you. His plump, wet lips were parted and he let out shallow breaths.

You swallowed the lump and returned to his cock, swapping his hand for yours. In an attempt to get your breathing in order, you caressed his shaft with your lips, running them over his tense dick and tracing the pattern of his veins with your tongue.

As soon as your throat stopped burning, you slowly took him back in, enjoying the low growl mixed with the moans coming from above. He tried, he tried so hard to pretend that he didn't care. That he didn’t even want you. But he crumbled under your lips as quickly as you crumbled under his gaze.

With more confidence, you began to slowly push his cock deeper and deeper. Swallowing each time as soon as he pushed inside, and swirling his head with your hot tongue when he pulled back. Inch after inch you managed to take all of his throbbing shaft in, your nose tickled with his sweat-stained pubes.

For a moment you stayed like this, accepting your throat being stretched painfully, your airflow barely managing to support your lungs as you breathed slowly through your nose.

When you felt tears welling up in your eyes, you pulled off, exchanging your mouth for your hand. Hollowing your cheeks, you kept sucking his head and some of his shaft that you couldn’t cover with your palm.

Tommy’s grunts became quieter and you felt one of his hands grabbing you by the hair while the other gripped your wrist and pulled your hand from his cock. You could only moan in question once before he pushed all of him inside you roughly, setting a rougher pace than you were ready for.

Immobilized, you kept taking his cock into your throat, his heavy balls slapping your chin as Tommy practically fucked your throat. There was anger written all over his face, but you could barely see it through the wetness in your eyes. You just let him use you, remembering a new feeling, storing this side of him in your back pocket.

His movements became more erratic, the grip on your hair tightens so much that you whine in pain afraid that he'd pull your hair out. He was close, you could feel it by the way his stomach quivered, hear it in every ‘fuck’ he grunted out.

Tommy pressed you hard into his body as he held you on his cock. His top rode up, and your forehead slid against his happy trail that was covering his sweaty stomach. You felt him start to pulse and spit cum inside you, thick warm loads coating your abused throat as he almost folded over you.

As soon as he pulls out, his cock glistening in your drool and some of his cum, you start coughing violently, swallowing as much air as you can. He tasted like fresh earth after a long rain and salt. Two things that didn’t go together but you already craved more.

You wiped your lips and rubbed your head where he tugged on your hair just minutes ago. The sound of metal clinking brought you back to the moment and you snapped your head at Tommy.

You gave him a confused look when you saw him tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and re-tie his ruffled hair in a low bun. He intentionally ignored your insistent stare for as long as he could, but when you didn’t get up from the floor, he finally turned his attention from redressing to you.

“I wasn’t the one begging for your pussy,” he shrugs simply and points at your pussy where it was hidden and crying under your jeans. “So I guess you’ll have to sort your little problem yourself.”

You squeezed your thighs pathetically, trying to relieve at least some of the tension.

“We need to be back before the sunset, hurry up.” He threw over his shoulder, not giving you another look. Your eyes stung as you almost cried in frustration watching Tommy walk out.

It was going to be a long drive home.

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#tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #x reader #smut fic #iamasaddie fic

168 notes · View notes

munchhmm · 3 days ago

Note

hey pookiee, was wondering if you could do a headcanon with a reader that fights with a super big sword expect the reader is a bit on the shorter side? Its okay if you don’t want to, I luveee your work :33

Blade and Banter

This is adorable and I had so much fun writing it! Thank you for being so kind!

The boys reacting to reader being a lil small with a big sword ✧

Pairings: Zoro, Ace, Law, Smoker, and Shanks x F!reader

Warnings: Mentions of weight/height in Laws for doctor stuffs ♡

Credit to @cafekitsune for dividers! first pic is mine

Word count: About 3.3k vv ace heavy hehe

Zoro ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

Genuinely doesn’t believe you can even hold the thing at first.

Teaches you how to clean and store it properly.

When he trains with you he’s really impressed but just shows it with a smirk.

Pats you on the head like a child and makes comments about your short frame.

“Thought I’d have to protect you more than this, seems I was wrong.”

Cool night air brushes through the open door of the training room, smelling of salt and slightly damp wood. You and Zoro have been practicing for three hours now, but you don’t want to let him know how tired you are.

Sweat coats both of your bodies, dripping to the floor with little sound. Zoro goes to wipe his face with a towel when he notices you’re breathing a bit more than normal. “Tsk, you can admit you need a break, ya know?” he says as he offers you another towel and takes your sword from you.

A slight blush comes to your cheeks, but you hide it with the towel easily. He was so sweet. Suddenly you feel a soft but firm pressure on the top of your head. When you look away from the cloth covering your face, Zoro stands in front of you with his hand resting naturally over your hair, petting it slightly.

“Good job tonight, pipsqueak,” he says with a teasing tone. You instinctively roll your eyes. “I’m really not that short.” “Your sword is literally taller than you are.” “At least I can hold it!”

This playful banter continues for a few more minutes until Nami stomps in with an annoyed expression. “Can you just tell her you like her already and stop yelling like this every night?! Making these maps for us isn’t easy, you know!”

The green-haired man froze for a second at Nami’s comment before turning to face her. “Would you butt out? We weren’t even being loud,” he says gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Whatever, just be quiet!” the redhead says angrily as she walks out of the room.

Zoro doesn’t turn to face you for a few seconds, but when he does, his ears are a little red. You thought it was adorable, though.

With a smile, you quickly change the subject, knowing Zoro wasn’t going to be able to handle this awkward situation well. “Wanna go grab something to eat?” you say while already gathering your things to leave the training room. “Yeah, food sounds good,” he says flatly and starts to follow behind you without another word.

Comfortable silence was common between you two; neither of you minded, though. Zoro thought about how he was stupid to not realize others could pick up on the way you guys talked—but it wasn’t flirting, right? The idea of finally one day not being teased anymore by Zoro was on your mind. But of course that would never happen. What if he really did like you? please he’s so flustered.

⋆˚࿔𝄢ৎ୭

Ace (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Think’s you’re the most adorbs thing in the world.

Picks you up (If you let him) like he’s lifting weights.

Almost drops your sword when he first holds it because he didn’t expect you to be able to carry that.

Constantly asks jokingly how old you are and when your bedtime is.

Loves comparing his and yours height and brags about how he’s a lot taller than you. mamamoo reference hehe

While docked on a large, isolated island, you’d think the crew would’ve been a bit more cautious, but Whitebeard's people didn’t like to roll that way, though.

The brush was thick, and the vines stretched so far they seemed to never end. Best description would be a rainforest with abnormally large plants.

Ace liked to stick with you, to your annoyance at times. The teasing and comments never bothered you, but the way it makes your heart skip a beat does. Falling in love with a crewmate was inappropriate and you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that spreads through you when he smiles your way.

After tripping over a root while Ace catches you, and screaming from the sudden appearance of a large beetle, you both finally make it to a large opening in the trees.

Hoping to find some way of getting a better view of the island, this was probably the best option. While you were bent down examining a strange plant, there was a sudden frenzied tap on your shoulder. “Woah, hey, Y/N? Do you see that thing too or is it just me?” Ace asks with a slightly startled tone.

You quickly look to where his gaze is, seeing a huge tricolored snake making its way toward both of you—and fast.

Without a second thought, and your sword in hand, you rush the slithering monster to attack it, defeating the beast with ease.

A chuckle can be heard from behind you as you stand for a moment to try and catch your breath. “Wow, look at the little mouse fighting back!” There it goes again. Why did you have to get flustered over something like this?

“It’s no big deal. It would’ve eaten us otherwise. You were no help, though.” A playful grin covering your face as you walk back over to the black-haired boy. “Nah, I knew you had it. But now you get to rest on me. I bet you used up all your tiny energy.” Ace quickly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder before you can protest.

Not that you actually minded, though. At least this way he can’t see how red your face is right now. “Ace! We still gotta look around to see if there are any other people here! We don’t have time for this!” you say with a slightly squeaky voice.

Words fell on deaf ears. Without even responding to your comment, Ace continues to search like nothing happened. When he turned to look down a hill, you could see from the other direction what looked to be a small man-made shack. “Ace, look—there’s a building over there. Let’s check that out.”

As soon as he turned to look where you were, he smiled, picking you up from his shoulder and holding you under your arms in front of him. “The baby is strong AND smart! Awesome, let’s go!” Ace again gently places you back onto his shoulder and quickly makes it to the shack.

At this point, your heart is doing backflips, but you don’t say anything other than a small grunt as he moves you.

The building was in ruins—small and clearly lived in. Whoever was here had been away for quite a while, though, as dust covered every surface inside. You sigh and sit on a chair that had the least amount of dirt on it. “This is where we’re gonna stay, I guess, until we can catch up with the others. It’s too dangerous outside and probably worse at night,” you say while grabbing things out of your bag to set up a makeshift sleeping spot.

“Yeah, it’s getting dark quick. There’s no point in risking going all the way back to the boat,” Ace adds, standing above you and watching with his arms folded. Always with that signature smile.

Wood flooring wasn’t the ideal choice to lay on, but you definitely weren’t risking getting on the old bed. You and Ace have an arm’s length distance between each other as you try and get some rest. He suddenly turns to face you, looking a little too long at your features. “What is it…?” you ask quietly, as if you were trying not to wake an imaginary person in the room. “You’re cute. I’ve never seen you sleeping,” he says softly, still watching closely.

A smile spreads across your face just as quickly as the blush. You laugh slightly and scoot a bit closer to him. “You’re cute when you tease me, and every other time.” The words slipped from your mouth without realizing it.

Ace just chuckles and wraps an arm around you lazily. “I’ll just have to do it more often, then,” he says with a smirk. You can feel his chest vibrate when he talks. “Is that even possible?”

⋆˚࿔𝄢ৎ୭

Law >⸝⸝⸝<

Doesn’t say anything about it till someone else points it out in front of him.

Thinks having such a big weapon is just inconvenient until he sees you fight.

Shocked at the way you can handle the sword with such ease.

Smirks when he looks at your height during checkups.

Secretly finds it cute when he has to glance down so far just to see you.

Echoes of footsteps and stainless steel tools clanking against metal trays were the only sounds that could be heard inside the exam room. Every few months, the whole crew has to get a health exam to make sure you’re all doing good. You loathed these days. The lights were too bright, the air was always cold, and worst of all, you knew everyone was going to ask if you had grown any since your last visit. Law always hides the actual numbers from you, knowing it makes you flustered. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with it, right? “Have you had any issues carrying your weapon recently? Any shoulder or forearm pain?” he asks flatly, looking down at his clipboard with pen in hand. You shake your head. Your sword has never been a true burden to carry, even if it was awkward to hold sometimes. After a few scribbles on the paper, Law motions for you to get on the weight and height scale. With a sigh, you make your way to the machine and stand on it, waiting for Law to write down the information. “Huh, you actually grew an inch.” His smirk could be heard through his words. “You’re messing with me. I’m an adult—I shouldn’t be getting any taller now,” you say with a slightly annoyed expression. A hand comes around to turn the small screen of the scale to where you can see it, showing that Law wasn’t lying. You really did gain an inch since the last visit. “Now you’re almost as tall as your sword. It’s progress,” he says while jotting down random notes. A small smile grows on your face. Even though this would probably just cause more teasing, it still gives you a bit of an ego boost. Once the exam is over, Law allows you to leave, but not before giving you a small piece of candy. “For being a good patient today,” he says while standing in front of the door. You pout playfully and look up at the tall doctor. “I’m not a kid. I don’t need a treat for doing well…” The sentence came out more like a murmur, causing Law to chuckle and press the candy into your hand. “No, but it does mean you didn’t complain about your height this time, which is a good improvement.”

Later that night, the captain finds you practicing quietly, keeping so much focus you don’t even notice him walking up to the doorframe. He watches your form, calculating how much pressure and stress your muscles are going through under the weight of the sword. Suddenly, his presence can be felt, causing you to turn quickly in the direction of the door with your sword pointed forward. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” Words almost so quiet they couldn’t be heard—you were flustered from being caught off guard. “And what if it were one of the other crew members? I guess they’d be in trouble,” he says with a small chuckle, pushing off the doorframe to walk closer. “You really should rest more often. I know you can handle it, but anyone can push themselves too far without realizing it until it’s too late.” The distance between you two is close. You can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and you’re melting under it. Standing with your sword, using it to steady yourself from the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I… I will. I won’t overdo it. Swear.” The blush that slowly makes its way to your cheeks makes you want to disappear into the floor. He smirks and gently puts a hand on your shoulder. “Good, because I don’t wanna see our smallest being harmed in any way.” God, how was he so smooth yet so annoying?

⋆˚࿔𝄢ৎ୭

Smoker (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

Silently worries about you constantly.

Attempts to get you to use any other weapon and offers to train you.

Feels like he’s gonna accidentally kill you by sitting on you one day or something.

Wonders if you’re lying about your age so you could join the marines sooner.

When you insist you’re fine with your sword he sees you with a newfound respect.

There’s never a dull day on the Navy ship. Today was no different. Two groups of pirates decided they would have a better chance if they worked together, so here you were, fighting two enemies at once, coming from different sides. The sound of angry screams and blades colliding filled the deck — it was chaos everywhere.

When the attack had first started, you were asleep, being brought out of your dreams by the Vice-Admiral. His voice was stern but calm. “Y/N, get up and make yourself decent quickly. We have a problem on our hands.” You sit up fast and try to pull your thoughts together. Without much effort, you throw on some clothes and grab your sword.

Now that you fully understood the situation, it was go-time. Bodies flew off the ship as you made your way through the crowd, swiping anyone who wasn’t a part of your team like it was nothing.

It wasn’t too long before the scene had settled — crew members cleaning the mess while others went to the med bay to get checked out for small wounds. With a sigh, you look at the surrounding area. This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your morning.

Smoker comes up to you while you’re cleaning your sword, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You did good, kid. You always do,” he said with his usual gruff voice. A small smirk graced your face. “Thought you liked me better when I used those daggers you gave me?” you ask playfully.

He chuckles while looking down at you. “I just thought you’d be quicker with them. I was wrong. This is the right weapon for you.” Turning to face him while tilting your head slightly, Smoker takes a puff from his cigar. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he questions with an eyebrow raised.

“Why’d you think I’d be quicker with daggers?” Almost immediately, the Vice-Admiral lets out a loud and deep chuckle. “Because they aren’t half a head taller than you like that sword is. Hell, I’m surprised the thing isn't bigger than me.”

A slight blush comes to your face — never expecting someone like Smoker to pay that much attention to anyone, let alone you. With an awkward attempt at playing it cool, you roll your eyes and set your sword next to yourself as you stand. “You’re funny, but this thing isn’t even half my hei—”

The overwhelmingly tall man in front of you just smirks and crosses his arms. He knew the sentence you were about to finish was a lie. Even with the sword leaning against a nearby wall, it towered over you the same way Smoker did.

“Love the confidence though — you need it in a world like this,” he says teasingly while putting out his cigar. Another huff leaves your mouth as you cross your arms playfully. “Why do you always have something to say? I’ll just report you for bullying if you keep it up.”

All the Vice-Admiral did was slowly light another cigar, puffing smoke while making sure none of it reached your face. After a few seconds, he steps closer to you, practically breaking his neck just to meet your eyes. “Now why would you get someone like me in trouble? Thought you liked me.”

There were no words to describe how hard your heart was beating — it felt like at any moment it could burst. The smell of cologne and smoke clouded your brain to the point you couldn’t think of a response. Instead, you just stood looking up at him with a crimson face.

A smirk spreads across Smoker’s face as he backs up a bit to turn to the door, turning his head back before walking out. “I’m not worried, but don’t expect me to change.” Then silence.

You went to lay back down for a few more hours till your shift started, thinking about ways you could get him back for this.

⋆˚࿔𝄢ৎ୭

Shanks (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Intrigued and makes it well known.

Shameless flirting constantly.

Makes a drinking game out of how many fights you win.

Drapes his clothes over your shoulders just to see how you get swallowed by them.

Holds the sword above your head so you can’t reach it, all while grinning.

Ting-Clash!! Clang! Clang! Sounds of metal, iron, and other various metals can be heard reverberating off of the cave walls. Simple dodges made by the enemy cause the rock around them to crumble as you crash your sword into it. This fight was getting annoying. Usually, you’re in a field, or at most surrounded by trees you could easily chop down. In a small space like this, it was a real challenge. Your captain stayed at the entrance, leaning against a huge boulder that indicated the opening of this stupid tunnel system. He knew you could handle it. He also knew it wouldn’t hurt to go and help you. But where was the fun in that? After about half an hour, you finally manage to make it through the last batch of people, taking a moment to breathe in the cold and damp air, listening to the water slowly dripping down onto the stone beneath your feet. Suddenly, you hear footsteps. In this current narrow section, it wasn’t a good idea to immediately turn around, sword drawn. So you wait a few moments while continuing to walk into a more spacious area before turning to fight. The water falling started to sound like it was matching your heartbeat. Although nothing had changed, your mind was still attempting to play games with you. When you make it to the wider area, the footsteps behind you stop.

ThumpThumpThump ThumpThumpThump

With shaky hands, you carefully turn around, sword pointed in front of you with a slight rattle. “Woah, easy there sweetheart. Am I really that scary?” It was Shanks?! Of course he would pull something like this. A large, relieved sigh leaves your mouth as you walk up to the tall red-haired man and punch his arm playfully. “Yeah, you are! I almost had a heart attack, you jerk!” The sounds of your scared yet annoyed voice echo through the entire system of tunnels. “Aw, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you then?” he says while taking his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “Hmm, let’s see… you could stop calling me a baby, stop scaring me, and stop taking my sword,” you say with a finger to your lips like you’re actually thinking deeply about his question. Shanks just chuckles and quickly swipes your sword from your hand, holding it above your head and shaking it lightly. Another sigh can be heard from you, this time frustrated. “What, you mean this? Is it because you can’t catch it?~” The smooth words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing, causing you to become even more flustered. “Ugh, you know I can’t reach it! You just do it to make me upset.” A fake pout plastering your face as you cross your arms. Shanks leans down, still keeping the sword out of reach, and gets close enough to your face that you can feel his breath on your lips. “I do it to see you like this, because it’s adorable. Not because I want a beautiful girl like you upset. I never would.” Your jaw drops slightly at the closeness and his words. He thought you were adorable? No words come out of your mouth for a moment. He takes this opportunity to lightly brush his lips against yours before standing back upright and handing you the sword with his signature smirk. “Look at that, I made the baby speechless. That’s even more precious,” he says while turning to walk back toward the entrance of the cave. You follow him, trying to think of something—anything—to say. Once outside, you finally blurt out, “Do you think I'm strong too?” Your own words immediately make you blush. “Of course I do. It’s not just your looks that made me fall for you, doll.” The walk back to the ship was quiet but comfortable, the usual flirting and games you were used to. But today, your captain changed the energy altogether. Secretly, though, you’re here for it.

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thewitchblue · 2 days ago

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For months now, the kids of Crime Alley have been significantly happier. At first, nobody understood why except the kids. Until the night that Red Hood caught a thought-to-be thief smuggling all of them home crafted plushies.

Red Hood stood and stared. The kids were hiding a crafty Santa behind his back. Axolotls, dinosaurs, dragons, elephants, you had a plushie for every single one of them. You knew everyone's preferences, and you knew which houses to hit first. You had a concerning amount of skill, judging by Jason's quick assessment.

You stared back at him, holding a tiny fairy with a magic wand and a fire-breathing dragon outside the doorstep of his favourite children. You seemed frozen in place. Mid-knock. Really, what did you expect? Nothing happens in Crime Alley without Red Hood knowing about it. You should be surprised it took him a couple of months to discover you.

Before either of you could do anything about this unfortunate meeting, a little boy peeked his head outside the door and squeaked enthuastically. He motioned quickly for his little sister to come to the door, whispering rapidly in their mother tongue and gesturing wildly. They heard little, running footsteps, and the little girl emerged. She snatched the dragon immediately while the boy gently took the fairy. He stared at it in wonder. The glittering yarn sparkled in the moonlight. Their parents are sexist and misogynistic, so this was the only time they could play with their real toys.

The boy latched onto your leg in a rushed thanks before going after his sister to play together. You smiled fondly at the retreating duo and slowly shut the door, silent enough to prevent their parents from waking up and their aunt who was sleeping on the couch from even stirring.

Before Jason could even begin to gather his thoughts coherently, you bolted with plushies strapped onto you like they are grenades. You had so many plushies that it was almost comically to see you try to escape. Jason had you pinned to the nearby wall before you could get far.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He hissed quietly. This is ridiculous. He was called to this address as a potential robber? Tim needs better intel if he thinks you were a robber. Who would steal plushies? Then again, who hands out free plushies in Gotham without it being laced with something? You hissed back,

"Mind the stegosaurus! Terry's had a hard week!"

Jason couldn't help but laugh in sheer disbelief. Why is he here when he could hear gunshots in the distance? Why does he have you pinned like you are a criminal? He sighed and slowly released you from his grasp. He took a deep breath as he stepped away from you. Okay. Calm down. You aren't a threat. Everything is just fine. He asked after a moment of uncertainty,

"Can I help you?"

You blinked. He watched as you carefully fixed your plushies. He seemed shy but confident. Your shock faded into confusion into a warm fondness. Well, you could use some help with the street kids. They are so spread out that it can be an all-night adventure.

Jason almost took it back until you slowly began unstrapping various plushies and replacing them with different ones before handing the bag to Jason.

"You go north, and I'll go south. The street kids scatter to not make themselves targets, but they still group up in different sectors. Take my list and make sure to check it twice. Let the kids know it was me. I WILL find out if you mess this up."

He would have laughed at the almost threatening tone you took, but he knew the street kids, and they absolutely would let you know if they didn't get their plushie. Little Jorge would fight him for his Batman plushie or die trying to get ahold of it, and Jason can respect that level of dedication.

"Noted."

Jason said dryly, shifting through the plushies and looking at the list of names you generously gave him. You were incredibly organised, he can give you that much. He did feel a little bit like this moment is a bad Christmas romcom, but how can he say no when he has an adorable blushing dolphin in his hands and a child's happiness on the line?

You disappeared into the night like you didn't just give Red Hood, THE Red Hood, a bag of plushies to distribute to children like he's some type of Santa Claus with guns.

He'll find you again. He may even allow Bruce to give him money just to fund your creations. If growing up on the streets taught him anything, it's that love and security means everything.

"Who's that?"

He heard an all-too-curious Red Robin ask from the windowsill. Jason flinched at the sudden appearance. When did he get here? Was he there the whole time? Was this interaction all planned out so perfectly that Jason never for a second considered the set-up? The robbery was a hoax crafted so beautifully that Jason was beginning to believe it's the truth. Jason grumbled,

"I'm going to kill you one of these days."

He pushed past Tim, armed to the teeth with fluff and fur with a simmering anger brewing in his eyes. Of course Tim set this all up. Why wouldn't he? Bruce had been badgering him about finding love, and Jason finding his own lover would distract Bruce long enough for Tim to figure out a plan to cover up whatever he was hiding. The rat is hiding something big if he was willing to toss Jason to the wolves. Jason is sure of that much now.

Tim snickered behind Jason, who was already down the street on a hunt for the children on your list. He knew Jason would love you. He found the situation hilarious regardless. It worked out even better than he had hoped it would. Jason will thank him later in the relationship for all of this plotting. He found the best match in the city for Jason, after all.

Without a word, Red Robin disappeared into the night. He will come home to a lecture about not plotting against his siblings, but why shouldn't he when they make it so easy?

They really should all know better than to believe he would ever give them bad information. Jason was just sentimental enough for all of this to have worked out as gloriously as it did. Perhaps you'll find humour down the line when he gifts you the photo of your first ever interaction. Who should he target next?

#gn reader #jason todd x reader #batfam x reader #x reader

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athenalvss · 2 days ago

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FIRST LOVE ▬ Dick grayson

Summary: A young Dick Grayson is in love with one of his father's younger teammates in the Justice League.

a/n: I think Dick in the s1 of yj was 13/14 and I write abt reader like she has 19/20, Just to communicate the age gap, enjoy :)

pairing: (platonic) yj!dick grayson x fem reader

open request - Dick masterlist

The first time you met was once when Bruce took you to the Batcave to accompany him on a mission, actually only Dick met you, he was not allowed to be there tonight, Bruce had forbidden him to go down to the cave that night and that they would not go out on patrol together, and there he was hiding watching the interaction between the most beautiful girl he had seen in his short thirteen years and his adoptive father.

You stood next to Batman, nodding as he explained the details of a simple reconnaissance mission. You were dressed in your suit, a modern design that combined functionality with style, and your posture displayed confidence… though a friendly smile softened your features.

Batman walked you toward the Batmobile, helping you get in, and Dick saw you laugh at something he said. Laugh. With Batman. As if that were even possible.

How unfair life was to him.

But the first time you officially met was shortly after Young Justice was created. Bruce, dressed as Batman and Red Tornado, had introduced you to the small group of teenagers with the intention of having you be part of their training, and perhaps even help them understand the great responsibility that this job entails at a young age.

But young Robin was too busy bragging that he already knew the pretty girl.

"Team," Red Tornado announced in a mechanically solemn voice. "This is the newest active member of the Justice League. She'll assist in your training."

You stood confidently beside Batman, smiling kindly at the group of expectant teenagers.

"Hey guys" you greeted with a friendly smile. "I hope we can learn a lot together. "

Robin almost fainted.

Of course he recognized you.

The goddess of the Batcave was there, in the same room, and this time... he could talk to you without hiding behind the Batmobile.

Wally nudged him. “Wow... who is she? She’s so f...”

"What are you saying, Wally?!" Robin interrupted quickly, his voice a little louder than usual.

Everyone looked at him, he cleared his throat, crossing his arms as if he hadn't just yelled in front of the team. "I mean, obviously I know her. She's been in the Batcave before. With Batman. And me. Nothing new for me. "

Wally raised an eyebrow, amused. "Really? And you didn't say anything?"

Robin shrugged, putting on his best 'this doesn't affect me' pose, although he was sure his ears were turning red under the mask.

"I didn't mean to brag," he said with a small smile. "But we've already talked. she was on a mission with B, and I showed her some things about the cave. She asked me for advice. The usual."

Wally chuckled. “she asked you for advice, sure.”

You stepped forward, smiling warmly as you watched them. “Robin, right?” you asked, addressing him directly.

The boy's heart almost fell to the floor.

"Yes," he replied immediately, straightening as if he were undergoing a military inspection. "Of course. Robin. You know, the first one. The original. The best. Your Robin."

Wally coughed to hide a laugh.

"Thank you for having me. I'm happy to be here," you continued calmly, then lowered your voice a little. "And.... I remember you."

Robin froze.

—I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but... I thought it was really cute how you hid behind the computer that night.

Robin blinked. “How…?”

"Boy, do you think I'd be in the League if I didn't see you hiding behind a piece of furniture? No one escapes a League member," you winked mischievously.

Wally squealed with laughter as Robin raised a hand to his face. "I'm going to need an identity change," he muttered.

ᯓ★

The Watchtower meeting hall was lively, finally the young league had been allowed to come see the place and watch the daily routine of the heroes who were there, what should have been a happy day for everyone, for Robin, the energy of the place had a slightly bitter taste.

From his place leaning against the wall, arms crossed and brow slightly furrowed, he watched the scene in front of him as if it were a movie he hadn't asked to see.

You were standing in the middle of the conference room, laughing with Hal Jordan, while he excitedly gestured about who knows about what. The way you laughed, with your shoulders slightly raised and that genuine expression of amusement… it didn't help at all.

Robin looked away with a silent grunt. 'Great,' he thought, now his special day at the Watchtower was ruined by the more annoying version of Green Lantern and his damn perfect white teeth and that jagged jawline.

"Relax, Wonder Boy," Wally told him, appearing at his side, munching some cookies from the base's kitchen. "They're just talking."

"Who said I'm not relaxed?" Robin replied, a little too quickly.

—Your face. You have a “I want to throw a batarang at Green Lantern” vibe.

Robin snorted. “I wouldn’t throw a batarang at him…” Pause ."…very strong. "

At that moment, you turned your head slightly and smiled at Batman, who had come over to review some files with you and Hal. Batman said something to you in a low voice, and you nodded with a warm smile.

Dick felt a small emotional short circuit.

Bruce now too? Bruce?!? Since when did you smile like that with him?! I thought your thing with Batman was respect, professional admiration… not those kind of smiles that gave you stomach cramps!

Wally spoke again, his mouth still half full of crackers. “I think you should take a deep breath before you explode like an overloaded microchip, buddy.”

At that moment, you said goodbye to Hal with a gentle pat on the arm and walked toward the group of young people. Your eyes lingered on Dick for a second, and your smile widened.

"Wally, Robin," you greeted him in that warm tone you only used with him, even though he refused to admit it. "How was your visit?"

Dick cleared his throat and straightened his back as if he hadn't been frowning with dramatic intensity for five minutes. Wally, for his part, smiled as if nothing had happened.

"That's great!" the speedster replied. "I mean, it's not every day you see Superman eating a giant salad for lunch, right?"

You laughed softly, and that laugh was enough to make Dick forget for half a second that he was angry at Hal Jordan, at you, at Bruce, and at cosmic injustice in general.

"And you, Robin?" you asked with a nod. "What did you think?"

Robin opened his mouth, but for some reason the words didn't come out immediately. His brain, which normally ran at the speed of a supercomputer, seemed to have rebooted.

"I'm... fine. Everything," he murmured, before clearing his throat and adding in a firmer tone. "The security design of the north corridors is quite efficient. Although there is a minimal leak in the retinal scanner in room 6B. Nothing serious, but... I noticed it."

Wally looked at him as if he had just quoted an engineering manual in the middle of a conversation about movies.

You smiled with genuine amusement and nodded, as if you didn't find it ridiculous at all. "I knew you'd notice something like that. Good eye."

Dick felt like he was floating.

"Yeah, well... efficiency's my thing," he said with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual. Wally nudged him, not conspiratorially this time, but to keep him from falling over because of his inflated ego.

"You're adorable."

Dick felt as if the ground disappeared for a second beneath his boots.

And Wally, behind him, lost it: he put his hand to his mouth to hold back a laugh.

"See you later, little guards," you added sweetly, ruffling his hair before leaving with Hal, who was waiting for you at one of the doors.

Dick stood still, as if struck by lightning.

"I'm not little..." he murmured.

Wally patted him on the back with a laugh. "Bro... you just got lethally friendzoned with love. You're going to remember this for years."

Dick didn't reply. He just touched his messy hair with a silly half smile he couldn't stop.

ᯓ★

It was your first time accompanying Young Justice on a mission, and everything had gone to hell so fast you couldn't believe it.

No one understood what was happening, but since you were the oldest of all, you were supposed to stay calm and find a solution for this strange moment.

The rift in the sky had exploded without warning. A blinding white flash enveloped them, and the next thing they knew, they were no longer in their timeline.

The technology, the architecture, the atmosphere: everything indicated they'd traveled several years into the future. Just enough to make some familiar faces unrecognizable... and others too recognizable to not send shivers down your spine.

“Where… are we?” Aqualad asked, cautiously assessing the spot where they had landed.

"That's what I'd like to know," said a deep, confident voice behind you.

You turned around as a reflex .

And there he was

Tall, imposing. In a black suit with a light blue symbol in the middle of his chest, he looked like a boy about your age, one you definitely didn't know.

"Are you...?" He looked at everyone, his attention finally settling on you. "Oh, damn."

"I'm surprised to see you here. Although I must admit… so far, this has been a pleasant visit."

Robin narrowed his eyes .

"Do you know us?" you asked cautiously.

"Let's just say I have good memories," he said, in a tone that made you raise an eyebrow.

Dick, in the background, clenched his fists. Good memories? What kind of memories?

Nightwing winked at you before looking back at the group. "But don't worry, I won't leave you trapped in my time. We'll figure out how to get you back... after we catch up."

Robin couldn't stop staring at him. Would this be what he'd be like in the future? Would this be how he'd behave? Would this be how he'd talk to you...?

And the worst part is, you didn't seem upset. In fact, you were smiling.

Maybe you weren't recognizing Dick as Nightwing, they didn't look much alike, but it was inevitable for Dick not to recognize himself. .

"We need to talk alone," he said in a serious tone.

Nightwing hesitated, but nodded, and the two of them walked off into a darker hallway.

And there, when they were far enough away, Robin turned to him with a frown. "Hey... you," he began, somewhat awkwardly, "I mean, me. Major. Can I ask you something?"

Nightwing looked at him curiously. “Shoot.”

"She..." he swallowed. "You know, she... In this time... you and her, are you...?"

Nightwing looked at him for a long second before answering. "No, Dick. We were never together."

Silence.

Dick blinked . "Excuse me?" he said with an incredulous chuckle. "Never as in 'not yet'? Or never as in never, never?"

Nightwing gave him a sympathetic look. That was worse.

"As in “never ever.” As in “your eternal crush will eventually marry someone else.” As in “you had zero chance, bro.”

Dick opened his mouth. He closed it. Then he opened it again, only to complain with all the drama his frustrated little teenage body could muster.

"Are you telling me that neither growing up, nor having this cool guy demeanor, nor having that deep, sexy voice, I achieved anything?! Nothing at all?!"

Nightwing shrugged. “Well… you managed to maintain a nice friendship. That’s something.”

"A NICE FRIENDSHIP!" Dick repeated, his face one of existential outrage. "You flirted with her five minutes ago! You flirted with her in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world!"

"Sure, but she didn't know it was me, or rather, you."

Dick pointed at him as if it were evidence in court. "That makes everything worse!! You flirted with her like someone else and it failed!"

#imagine dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #young justice x reader #dick grayson masterlist #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #robin x reader #dc masterlist #dc x reader #imagine dc

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her-lipsticks-smear · 1 day ago

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Sevika x Brothel Worker Reader Headcanons

hello!! sorry for the wait, i got a lil busy (ahem…scrolling through the sevika x reader tag) anyways here my headcanons based on that poll i made! (also like…so many people voted on that…ummmm kinda crazy!)

She’s used to being fast. To not caring. To being inconsiderate. To focus on her own pleasures and emotions.

She used to only come to the brothel when she had time off, nothing to do, and was particularly horny. But when she decided to meet you for the first time after her usual was unavailable, something in her changed.

She became a regular, to the place and to you. Instead of the monthly or rare every other week visits she usually gave, it was a weekly thing to see her.

Sevika isn’t used to this, but she tries not to think about it. Thinking about it means thinking about other feelings she isn’t quite ready to think about. So she just focuses on what she knows:

She knows how to fuck.

And she definitely knows how to fuck you.

During your “sessions” she’ll do some dirty talk, you know how it is. One of the things she’ll occasionally say is how she’s the only one who can properly fuck you, and to be honest, she’s right.

Despite how clear she made it seem that she was only interested in blowing off some steam from work and hookups to sate temporary feelings, she sure seemed to care about your own pleasure a whole lot.

If she hadn’t made you come on her tongue or fingers once, she must’ve spent the whole night punching the wall because that’s not how things go. Not with her.

The two of you are used to the same things. Insincere, ingenuine, grunts and pants, half hearted moans.

So it’s certainly something different when she comes in, slamming the door shut, anger radiating off of her in a mile radius. She’ll flop onto the seat you’re sitting on, right beside you, and right as you think you’ll just start like you would with any client, barely any foreplay, her har hand, ever so soft despite its calluses and hard work evident in the skin, will land on your thigh and she’ll look at you with eyes that hide a silent plea.

She always asks.

Never out loud. Always in silent ways that make you want to melt into her. You always nod or move quickly, but no matter how fast you are, she’s on you quicker.

Usually, your lips slot together, she’s careful not to bite you unless she knows you’re ready to take it further—which, with her, you always are. Her arms cradle you closer, pulling you tightly.

She loves to taste you.

Her mouth has to be on you at all times. And if it isn’t, she’s praising you for taking her so well, or sometimes, depending on how eager you seem and how rough she is, she’ll just insult you. Degrading and filthy.

“Slut, whore, bitch”

And coming from any regular old man, it would disgust you, make you want to quit. But from her, it just makes everything all worth it. It makes you want to be her slut, her whore.

She’ll leave marks. On your neck, on your ribs. Across your upper thighs. She doesn’t care if you cover them or not, but if you do, she’s sure to make more. I mean, she can’t have you forgetting just who made those marks, can she?

From how often she visits, you know a little bit about her.

Everyone knows she’s Silco’s right hand man. Everyone knows she’s just about the baddest bitch in Zaun, for lack of better words.

You know the workload gets stressful, even for someone as rock hard as her. That, she’s confessed, is why she often comes to your place of work. It helps to blow off steam by pounding into some nobody.

What you don’t know, is much beyond that.

You don’t know that she lies awake at night, thinking about you, on the days she was unable to see you

You don’t know how often her hand sneaks into her pants as she thinks of your moans while she fucked you

You don’t know about her fantasies.

She’ll fantasize about bending you over her kitchen counter, pounding you into her sofa, marking you against the wall. Throwing you on her mattress, headboard banging against the wall in a rhythm.

And then, she’ll think about carrying you into the bathroom. She’ll draw a bath, the water warm and soothing. She’ll place you in nice and gentle, maybe she’ll step in behind you, maybe’s she lean over the ledge, letting herself get wet as she cleans you up all nice. She’ll let you fall asleep, then when you rouse as she’s dressing you in her shirt, she’ll murmur and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as she rubs circles into your back.

She’ll carry you to her bed and tuck you in, then she get in right beside her, turning over so she can snuggle up against you, her arm wrapping protectively around you.

She wants to buy you out of that brothel.

#arcane #sevika #arcane headcanons #sevika arcane #sevika headcanon #sevika x reader #wlw

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thesissterhood · 1 day ago

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I always had a crush on my older sister's best friend, Megan, and I think she knows. Worse, I never thought we'd both be bridesmaids at my sister's wedding -- and had to wear matching dresses. My sister insisted this would be my wedding gift to her and I couldn't say no. I was mortified.

Seeing her come up the stairs looking so gorgeous, I momentarily forgot that I was dressed the same -- that is, until she jokingly said, "I like your blush. It matches your dress. Or is that not makeup?" and then she winked as if sharing some inside secret.

I suddenly became extremely self-conscious that I too was wearing a dress for the first time, with shaved legs teetering on matching, 4-inch, gold heels.

Momentarily frozen and unable to speak, I could feel the blood rush to my face as she added, "well I can see now that was just blush before. Nice touch. Although, you've now turned much too red and need to scale it back a bit in order to match your pretty pink dress!"

She paused smiling, looking me up and down as if assessing the ensemble of another girl -- all the while relishing my tongue-tied discomfort, amplified by her added scrutiny.

I think Megan noticed my knees getting wobbly, as she quickly strode over and hooked my elbow saying, "Plus, I don't want you passing out and drawing too much attention. That might be embarrassing! Us girls need to stick together, so let's go get you a glass of water. Then we can quickly fix up our makeup in the ladies room before the bride gets here. We have a long day ahead of us and you're going to need your strength!"

Walking into the building she had to hold me up a bit as I definitely felt lightheaded and was still learning to navigate these high heels. Feeling so helpless only reinforced my submissive role next to this beautiful girl that I've been crushing over for as long as I can remember. Yet somehow, she made me feel totally safe even though my emotions were totally exposed. With her piercing eyes and sly smile it seemed she saw right through me and that I couldn't hide anything from her.

That could be a problem though as it just reinforced how keenly aware I was of the heightened sensations across my body due to all these crazy new experiences -- soft fabrics swishing around every time I move and brushing against shaved legs, the feeling of cool air constantly blowing up my skirt, and I can't even bring myself to think about the lingerie I'm wearing. I've been trying to block it out but it keeps coming back whenever I feel the tug of a bra strap or the silky thrill of the matching satin panties every time I sit. It's completely distracting.

When I had agreed to wearing the dress and heels, I thought that was it. Of course, I didn't think about needing to shave my legs until it was too late. But that was it, I wasn't planning to wear lingerie. But when I checked into the room this morning, I found a pretty package on the bed with a note from my sister thanking me again for "my wedding gift" and how important it was for me to be supporting her on her special day. She said this was a little Thank You gift from her since she knew that I would look perfect with the proper padding in my chest and no panty lines showing through the sheer dress. She promised that this would be the last she asked but insisted that I accept the gift graciously by wearing it as she instructed -- and that she would know if I didn't -- but not to worry because it would be our little sibling secret.

Of course the first thing Megan said after she lead me into the ladies room was, "wow, you sure can pass as a girl. We almost look like sisters." I blushed again from the compliment.

She pulled out her lipstick and without asking softly grabbed my chin and started touching up my lips. I was shocked, but didn't know what to do. I loved the attention and certainly enjoyed the sensation as I stared into her eyes. "Your sister was right -- not that I was skeptical, mind you. You do have nice soft features and great legs. Now that we have matching lipstick, we really do look like sisters. I'll bet we even have matching lingerie too -- did your sister gift you a brand new set from Victoria's Secret?" She could tell the answer from my massive embarrassment, saying, "thought so. Don't worry, it'll just be a little secret between us sisters. Now let's go!"

I was imagining her in the same sexy lingerie set and started getting aroused. I don't mind her calling me her sister if that might allow me to see her wearing nothing but lingerie. The feeling of the satin panties rubbing against my growing erection only made it worse, so I tried to focus on not falling in these heels and to quickly think of something else. There's not much room in this dress to a full boner so I'm going to have to work hard to keep this under control. I don't know if I can hold it together though. My head was swimming and something has got to give. Maybe if I can break away and quickly rub one out.

This is going to be a very long day, indeed...

[I didn't know it at the time, but I would be seeing a lot of Megan in the coming months. Both Megan and my sister had joined (the) Sisterhood in college -- and while my sister was working on bending her new husband to her will, she had gifted me to Megan so they both had a mark to practice their manipulations.]

#sissterhood #forced feminized #thegame #sister #wedding #bridesmaids

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greatmoldone · 3 days ago

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Trying to save Soap with Forbidden Video Game Knowledge (TM)

This is just self indulgent don't mind me

Being lost as fuck at first but figuring out where you are in the timeline, you decide to try your luck.

The entire team being intimidating as fuck as you try to explain yourself to them.

There's no way they're going to believe you, you think.

Trying to find a balance of giving enough information for 141 to believe you and not giving away so much that they'll think you're a spy.

They still think you're a spy because how the fuck are you supposed to tell them where you got this information??

But eventually little things you mentioned start to come true and they're all staring at each other like ???

Surely it's just a lucky guess, right?

Wrong.

Things you predict keep happening and eventually they have to face the fact that you might not be lying.

It's a veryyy slow process but eventually they come to trust you.

Over time your place with them becomes less like a prisoner and more like a captive advisor?

Then you're trusted with more and more freedoms.

But you stay.

Of course you stay.

You have a mission but they can't know that.

How are you supposed to tell them that you've seen Soap die and that you're trying to stop it?

And the worst part is that Soap is probably the one who warms up to you first.

But you have to pretend the wistful look you get in your eyes sometimes isn't because he's becoming more and more humanized to you and the knowledge of his impending death looks like a dark cloud over every interaction.

You settle into a pattern of tipping off the 141 right before something is about to happen so as not to overwhelm them with information.

(and probably from fear of changing too much and suddenly becoming irrelevant to them)

You inform them of the connection to the Las Almas cartel and they even let you tag along to Mexico (as long as you stick out of the way of danger of course)

Meeting Alejandro and Rudy!!

Having to wait until Soap has been interrogated by Valeria to drop that she's El Sin Nombre so he doesn't have to hide that he knows and jeopardize the mission.

Hoo boy there's some backlash for that one.

You probably get into arguments with the 141 more than you'd like.

So to prove your allegiance you break your rule and tell them about Graves' impending betrayal (and General Shepherd).

But you make them promise not to act on it until after they divert the missle, knowing that they'll need Shadow Company's help until the last minute.

But Los Vaqueros don't know about your strange font of knowledge.

It's harder to convince them that Shadow Company will try and take their base until it's too late.

You don't get to give the signal .

And the betrayal happens as in the games.

The massacre in Las Almas still happens and you're kicking yourself for not being able to stop it.

Being kept prisoner along with Los Vaqueros and Alejandro (before he gets thrown in solitary – which, let's be honest, is very quickly).

Graves casually leaning on the door of your cell and asking how you knew about his plan as if he's asking about the weather.

Apparently either Ghost or Soap said something when everything went down.

Shit.

144 notes · View notes

kathlare · 3 days ago

Text

couldn't make it any harder

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary:Lando senses something is off with Amelie. The day unfolds slowly, wrapped in silence and unspoken weight, until understanding and quiet love anchor them back together.

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 28th, 2025 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

The sunlight was starting to creep through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, a warm golden hue kissing the hardwood floors and tangled white sheets. Lando stirred lazily, muscles stretching as he blinked slowly at the ceiling, still in that hazy limbo between dreaming and waking. A sleepy smile curled his lips as he turned to the side, arms reaching instinctively for her.

But nothing.

No Amelie.

Only the dip of the mattress where she should be, and the comforting weight of Benny curled against his legs. Lando furrowed his brows, still half-asleep, and blindly patted the sheets like she might be hiding under them.

—Ames?— he murmured, voice husky and rough with sleep. Nothing. Benny meowed softly, stretching and nuzzling into his thigh.

Lando propped himself up on one elbow, eyes squinting against the soft light. He looked toward the ensuite bathroom—door wide open, lights off, empty.

Weird.

Dragging a hand through his messy curls, he sat up and stretched again, back cracking slightly. Björn launched himself from the top of the dresser, thudding to the floor with a loud thump and darting toward the door like a creature on a mission. Lando narrowed his eyes at the cat.

—Alright, alright, little goblin, I’m coming— he muttered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, scooping up Benny into his arms with ease. The cat purred immediately, rubbing his face against Lando’s chin.

Lando kissed the top of Benny’s head, half smiling. —Where’s mommy, huh? Where’d she go? Hiding from us again?—

Björn let out a loud, demanding meow as he scratched the doorframe, tail flicking aggressively. Lando padded out of the bedroom in just his Calvin Kleins and a sleep-creased t-shirt, feet silent against the marble floors of the Monte Carlo apartment. The place was quiet, just the faint sound of waves below and the occasional seagull.

And then he saw her.

Sitting on one of the iron chairs out on the balcony, knees pulled up to her chest in one of his hoodies, the hood almost swallowing her whole. A long sleeve tugged over her hand… and a cigarette pressed between her fingers.

Lando froze.

Amelie never smoked.

Not unless something was wrong.

He blinked, staring for a moment, Benny’s warmth grounding him as something uneasy coiled in his stomach.

She didn’t see him at first. Her eyes were on the sea, glassy, lost. Her lips moved slightly, maybe mouthing something. Maybe nothing.

Then he slid the balcony door open and stepped out.

Her head snapped up.

She panicked—visibly. Quickly stubbing the cigarette out against the ashtray and tossing it, waving smoke away with a frantic hand like a teenager caught sneaking out.

—Lan, fuck, I...— she stood up in a rush, brushing her hands down the front of the hoodie like she could hide it.

He stepped closer, gentle, brows pinched in quiet concern. —Morning, baby. You alright?—

Amelie smiled tightly, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice cracked just a bit. —Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep. Needed air.—

Lando bent down, aiming to kiss her good morning, but just before his lips could reach hers, she turned her face slightly to the side.

—Ew, no— she tried to joke, waving her hand between them —I stink. I’ll brush first, promise.—

Lando blinked at her. That wasn’t like her. Amelie never said no to a morning kiss. Not even when she had morning breath. She always teased him about “not being able to resist her either way.”

He nodded slowly. —Alright. I’ll wait, stinky.—

She tried to laugh, but it was hollow. She slipped past him, fingers trailing along the railing as she walked back inside barefoot. Benny twisted in Lando’s arms, but he didn’t put him down yet. He just stared after her, standing alone on the balcony with Björn now twining around his ankles, glaring at the sea like it had answers.

The rest of the morning was… off.

She moved through the flat like a ghost. Barely touching her food. Ignoring the TV. Lando had made pancakes—her favorite, even added Nutella and strawberries. Normally she'd be perched on the counter, stealing bites from the spatula, playfully smearing chocolate on his cheek, calling him mi chef guapo. Today? She just sat curled up on the couch, legs under her, picking at a pancake with her fork without eating much more than a few bites.

The movie on TV played quietly. Ratatouille. One of her comfort films.

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile.

Lando kept glancing at her between bites, trying to make conversation. He even tried a bad French accent at one point—got nothing more than a small hum in response. No eye contact.

She didn’t even correct him when he called Remy “the blue rat thing.”

Something wasn’t right.

But no matter what he tried—kisses to her temple, fingers brushing hers, even gently tugging her hoodie sleeve to pull her closer—she didn’t lean in like usual. She just gave him that same flat, polite smile.

He eventually gave up.

—I think I’m gonna go for a run,— he said softly, standing by the door and glancing at her curled form on the couch. She didn’t look up.

—Okay. Be safe.— came her automatic reply.

Lando stared at her for a second longer, then nodded and slipped on his trainers. The door shut quietly behind him.

He didn’t run far. Just down the promenade, past a few yachts, the air warm and salty. He wasn’t really timing himself. He just needed to clear his head.

She hadn’t been like this in months.

Something had happened.

He pulled his phone from his pocket mid-run, just to scroll. Check messages. Maybe get distracted.

And that’s when he saw it.

Trending on Twitter.

“Cameron Boyce would’ve turned 26 today.”

Fuck.

It hit him like a punch to the chest.

Of course.

Fuck. Of course.

He slowed to a stop, heart still racing but for a different reason now. His thumb hovered over the screen. Her name was there, too, in the related tags. Old photos. Fan edits. Candle emojis.

Cameron.

He remembered how she used to talk about him. Like he was the sun. Like she couldn’t say his name without that soft tremble in her voice. Her best friend. Her first love. The boy who always reminded her to breathe when things got too loud. The boy she never really stopped missing.

Suddenly everything made sense.

The cigarette. The silence. The way she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Lando stood there for a long moment, hand on his waist, phone clenched tightly. Heart aching a little for her.

He had known this day would come. But he hadn’t known how much it would hurt to watch her go through it.

He turned around, already heading back toward the apartment, the run forgotten. All he wanted now was to hold her. To let her grieve. To not let her carry it alone.

Because she didn’t have to anymore.

Not when she had him.

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

liked by callumdayman, alexwolffofficial, and others

ameliedayman: always missing you my angel. happy 26th. see you in the next life. love you forever 🤍

View all 207,907 comments

elysiadayman: he’d be so proud of you sis. always with you 🕊️🤍 → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman love you

callumdayman: thinking of him today. love you → ameliedayman: @callumdayman love you always

maxfewtrell: sending you a big hug. cam would be proud → ameliedayman: @maxfewtrell thank you maxie 🖤

lanmeliesupremacy: crying because she never forgets him 😭🕊️ → dayman_doll: @lanmeliesupremacy she carries him with her always, you can tell 🥺

pitwallwitch: idc what anyone says, this is such a beautiful post. grief doesn’t expire.

landofanacc: and this is why i love her, she’s so real and grounded 🥹 → mclarenswifey: @landofanacc and strong af for sharing something this vulnerable

cryingoverlanmelie: the fact she’s still carrying him in her heart AND loving lando so deeply 🥲 it’s giving soul depth → lanmeliecentral: @cryingoverlanmelie she’s truly got that once-in-a-generation heart

ameliedaymanshines: reminder that cameron would be LIVING for her right now. movies. music. love. everything. → angelicdayman: @ameliedaymanshines fr he’d be first in the comments saying “that’s my girl” 😭

f1wagsunite: this post always hits so hard every year. grief is forever. so is love 🤍 → gridhearts: @f1wagsunite and she handles both so gracefully. cam would be proud. we all are.

alexwolffofficial: he’s got the best view up there. sending you love today, always

sunshines4cam: this post hurts and heals at the same time 🕊️ → melancholyamelie: @sunshines4cam grief posts like these are sacred. i cry every year

wags_unfiltered: watching her hold space for Cameron and love Lando just as fully? she’s a whole universe of a woman

georgerussell63: he’ll always be with you. proud of you always → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 thank you george

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

The sun had dipped low by the time Amelie finally peeled herself off the bed.

The bedroom was dim now, just the faint pink of the sunset bleeding through the curtains. She'd spent most of the day curled up in the same position, her cheek pressed to Lando's pillow, the scent of him clinging to the cotton like it was trying to coax her out of herself. Her throat was raw from crying earlier. Her head pounded. Her chest ached with that old, familiar hollow feeling. She hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved, really, except to let Benny crawl under the blanket beside her and purr against her ribs.

She was sure both cats had been watching her all day—little sentries of soft fur and big, worried eyes.

Benny had barely left her side, occasionally licking her knuckles like he knew. Like he remembered the last time she’d gone this quiet.

Björn had been more subtle. Guarding the door. Meowing once or twice like he wanted her to follow him. Scratching at the carpet outside the ensuite and then staring at her with those too-human eyes that always made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

They were still there when she stood up, legs shaky, hoodie hanging off her frame like a ghost. Benny meowed once from the bed, then jumped down and padded after her. Björn was already waiting at the threshold, tail flicking. She gave them both a tired, crooked smile.

—Alright, alright. I’m coming. Hungry little monsters.—

She didn’t expect to see him right away. She figured he might still be out, or maybe sulking in his sim room, giving her space. She hadn't deserved how kind he'd been this morning. She knew she’d shut him out, and it wasn’t his fault. None of this was.

But then—

As she stepped into the main hallway, her bare feet cold against the marble, she caught the faintest smell.

Tomatoes. Basil. Garlic. Her favorite wine sauce. The scent drifted from the kitchen like a memory, wrapping around her like a hug.

And then she saw him.

Lando.

On the couch.

His curls were damp from a post-run shower, and he’d changed into soft sweats and one of his old McLaren hoodies. His socked feet were propped on the edge of the coffee table, one hand resting on the throw pillow. The TV flickered with the soft glow of Pride & Prejudice—the 2005 one. Her comfort movie.

And the dining table?

Set for two.

Candles lit. Her favorite plates—the mismatched vintage ones she'd found at a market in Paris. A cloth napkin folded like he’d YouTubed it. Wine already breathing in the decanter. The big glass bowl of pasta still steaming.

Lando hadn’t noticed her yet. He was staring at the TV, brows slightly furrowed, lost in the movie like he was watching it for her.

Her throat closed.

God, she didn’t deserve this man.

She didn’t deserve the way he always knew. The way he never pushed. The way he’d come back from his run and done all this, quietly, just in case she needed it.

Amelie crossed the room slowly, her fingers tightening around the sleeves of his hoodie like she might fall apart otherwise. Benny hopped onto the armrest of the couch and then jumped to curl next to Björn. Lando looked up at the sudden movement, his eyes meeting hers.

And then she was climbing onto the couch next to him without a word, curling into his side like her whole body just ached to be close.

Lando didn't hesitate.

He opened his arms instantly, pulled her against his chest, and kissed the side of her head. —Hey, baby. You’re okay.—

That’s all it took.

The second his lips touched her temple, something in her snapped. Broke wide open.

A choked sob tore from her chest before she could stop it, and suddenly she was crying—really crying—all over again, her hands gripping his hoodie, face buried in his shoulder.

—I’m sorry,— she whispered between gasps, her whole body trembling. —I’m so sorry, Lan, I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just... I just couldn’t today, and I didn’t know how to say it, and then the stupid fucking Twitter post and I just... I missed him, and I missed you, and I didn’t know how to be without feeling like I was betraying him and I...—

Lando shifted without a word, gently pulling her fully into his lap like she weighed nothing, wrapping his arms around her tightly. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other cradled her head, holding her like he could keep her together with just his touch.

He rocked her.

Back and forth.

Like she was something precious. Like she was breakable. Like he knew what she needed more than she did.

—I’ve got you, Ames,— he murmured softly. —I’ve always got you.—

She cried until the tightness in her chest began to loosen, until her tears quieted into hiccups, until her breathing slowed enough to speak again.

Lando didn’t say anything. He just let her fall apart and held her through all of it, his thumb brushing gently at the corner of her eye when she finally looked up at him, cheeks blotchy and raw.

She was curled into his lap like a child now, knees tucked against his thighs. The cats had both stayed close, Björn curled on the armrest, Benny purring at her feet like a guardian.

She sniffled. —You cooked.—

He smiled, soft and boyish. —Yeah. Hope I didn’t burn the garlic this time.—

She shook her head, voice small. —You set the table. With the Paris plates.—

—I Googled how to fold a napkin into a swan. Failed miserably. Ended up doing that fan shape thing instead.—

A small, wet laugh escaped her lips, and Lando’s heart squeezed.

She stared at him for a moment longer. And then she whispered, —You’re too good to me.—

Lando leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the space just between her brows. ��I’m just trying to love you the way you deserve. Even on the hard days.—

She swallowed thickly, heart pounding. God, he was so sweet.

She couldn’t reject that. Not him. Not the food. Not the movie. Not the arms wrapped around her like she was home.

—Okay,— she said softly. —But you’re feeding me. I don’t have the strength to twirl spaghetti.—

Lando grinned, a dimple flashing. —Deal. But I’m doing the airplane noises like you’re three.—

Amelie groaned. —You’re so annoying.—

—You love it.—

—I really do.—

And for the first time all day, she meant it.

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

liked by callumdayman, alexwolffofficial, and others lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie were spotted taking a quiet walk around Monaco tonight after all the chaos of the weekend 🧡 he had his arm around her the whole time and they looked so soft… post-win glow and peace with his girl 🥹🌙 View all 66,982 comments

lanmeliesupremacy: she cried today and he still made her smile… soulmate behavior fr → simp4lanmelie: @lanmeliesupremacy i saw the vid of them laughing on the bench i SOBBED

mcclarenwives: she probably told him stories abt cameron while they walked 🥺 → lanl0ver: @mcclarenwives and you just know he listened so carefully and kissed her forehead after 😭

wagsunhinged: amelie in her wag wife era. lando better drop the knee soon 😭 → mrsnorris: @wagsunhinged she already got his last name on speed dial don't worry

camislilrose: he’s literally walking his girl through monaco like it’s a romcom i’m sick → lanfanbaby: @camislilrose she’s the main character AND the love interest bye

chaoticwags: nah bc this man won monaco and still said “my girl first”

monaqueen: the city of monaco seeing lanmelie hand in hand AGAIN like it’s tradition → zenzaddy: @monaqueen every year. same walk. different level of whipped.

chaoticwags: lando walking her thru monaco like he promised cam he’d take care of her 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags i’m actually not well rn. like this is soulmate coded fr

gridgirlies: imagine winning monaco and your gf still looks like the real prize → f1gfenergy: @gridgirlies no bc lando def stared at her more than the trophy

lanmelieforeverrr: that boy won monaco and said “now let’s go on a lil date” 😭 → quadwifey: @lanmelieforeverrr he’s just a baby boy in love i fear 😭🧡

f1baddie: cameron watching them from the stars like “yeah u did good kid” 🥹 → pastelpitstop: @f1baddie crying throwing up screaming. leave me alone

lanfanclub: he’s calm now but i know he was screaming internally every time she smiled 😭 → gridsideglam: @lanfanclub not internally he prob texted max “bro she smiled again” mid-walk 💀

f1mami: he held her bag. HE. HELD. HER. BAG. → monacoedits: @f1mami i know her love language is acts of service and he’s eating it up 💅🏼

maxfewstann: they’ve entered their domestic era and i’m spiraling → quadrantchaos: @maxfewstann one yacht party, one club makeout, one walk = MARRIED

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

The night had grown quiet, save for the rhythmic hush of waves against the shore.

After dinner, Amelie had insisted they go for a walk. No destination, no conversation—just hand in hand, slipping out of the house and down the stone path that led to the cliffs. The coastal air was cool and salted, brushing against their cheeks as the stars blinked into the navy sky one by one. Lando didn’t ask questions. He simply followed, her hand warm in his, thumb brushing the back of her fingers every few steps like he was checking she was still there.

Now, they sat on the old weathered bench near the edge of the lookout, slightly tilted from years of use, the wood creaking faintly under their weight. The ocean spread out before them in endless black and silver, the moon laying a path of light across its surface. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel small. Or maybe safe.

Amelie hugged her knees to her chest, chin resting on them, her fingers twitching where they overlapped. She hadn’t spoken since they left the house.

Lando glanced at her from the side, giving her space. His arm was stretched along the back of the bench, just close enough that if she leaned into him, he’d catch her. But she didn’t. Not yet.

She was staring at the sea like it had answers.

He waited.

It was a long time before she spoke, her voice small, almost hesitant.

—He used to love the ocean.—

Lando blinked, turning his head slightly. He didn’t say anything, just listened.

Amelie kept her eyes on the water.

—Cameron.— she clarified softly. —We'd go out to the beach after shoots sometimes. Even if it was freezing. He said the ocean made everything feel... less heavy. I used to think it was dumb, but now... I get it.—

Lando’s heart tugged in his chest. He stayed quiet.

—I’ve never really talked about him. Not like this,— she murmured, almost to herself. —Everyone either tiptoes around it, or looks at me like I might break if they say his name. And I didn’t want to burden anyone. So I just... kept it to myself.—

She laughed, bitter and dry.

—But it doesn’t stay inside. It leaks out. In little ways. The silence. The spirals. The days I can’t get out of bed. And I hate that. I hate how much it still hurts.—

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Lando shifted closer, but still didn’t touch her. He could feel her vibrating, like a string pulled too tight.

—I was nineteen,— she whispered. —Nineteen and in love with my best friend. And one day he was there, and then... he wasn’t. Just gone. Like the universe made a mistake and couldn’t fix it fast enough.—

She bit her lip, hard. Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight.

—I remember everything. The sound of the call. The way my mom dropped her phone. The screaming. The silence that came after. I remember being numb for weeks. Months. Smiling through red carpets like my insides weren’t ashes.—

Her arms wrapped tighter around her knees.

—He was the first person who saw me. Like really saw me. Not the actress. Not the singer. Just me. And I thought I’d never find that again. I didn’t even want to. It felt like cheating. Like if I let myself be happy without him, I’d be erasing him.—

Finally, she turned her head toward Lando, her expression crumpling.

—But then you happened.—

Lando’s breath caught in his throat.

—You showed up in my life with your stupid sim rig and your dumb jokes and your terrible British accent impressions. And you made me laugh again. You made me feel again. And I fought it, God, I fought it so hard because I didn’t think I was allowed to feel that way again. But I do.—

She swallowed, and for the first time since they sat, she leaned into him, letting her head fall against his shoulder.

—I love you, Lando. And sometimes that terrifies me. Because it means I've moved forward. It means I’m still here. And sometimes that feels unfair.—

He turned then, carefully wrapping both arms around her, drawing her into his chest until she was tucked beneath his chin. His voice, when it came, was quiet and steady.

—Amelie... loving again doesn’t erase him. Nothing ever could. And you don’t have to choose between honoring him and letting yourself live. He mattered. He matters. And so do you.—

Her fingers clutched at his hoodie.

—I’m scared I’ll forget him. That the world already has.—

Lando kissed the top of her head.

—You won’t forget. Not ever. He’s in everything you do. In your art. In your kindness. In the way you fight for people. He’s a part of you, Ames. And nothing... not time, not grief, not even love... can take that away.—

She let out a shuddering breath, eyes finally closing, the tears slipping free without resistance now. Lando held her tighter.

They stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just listening to the waves.

And for the first time in a very long time, Amelie didn’t feel like she was drowning in it.

She felt like maybe—just maybe—she could float.

123 notes · View notes

mercurycft · 1 day ago

Text

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐖

## the bubble universe - leah x reader !!

hi everyone!! jeeeeez its been a while - back with some more fluffy writing! ive decided to create something called ‘the bubble universe’ where all of these fluffy fics i write will all intertwine with eachother within this universe! you can find this one & other related ones under the ‘bubble universe’ section of my masterlist! i’ve finally finished uni! everyone say congrats ru! so you guys can have my full attention again! missed you all so much - this one is a longgggg one! i hope you love reading it like i enjoyed writing it! love always - RGx

find THE BUBBLE UNIVERSE! — here

fluff and angst at times, no major warnings besides quite heavy details of IVF and fertility treatments - alongside failed fertility treatments, as well as relationship impacts and heavy emotions but also loved-up-ness. also not proof read bc fuck that.

5.8k words.

you don’t really mean to bring it up. it’s just one of those days; you’re curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket over your knees, a half-drunk cup of tea going cold on the table, and leah’s feet resting lazily in your lap. the telly’s on but neither of you are really watching it. you’re both too comfortable in the quiet, too used to each other to need constant conversation. every few minutes your eyes drift from your phone screen and up to the telly, watching absentmindedly as women and midwives scramble around the screen. you’re lost in the tv when leah shifts slightly, toes pressing into your thigh in that unintentional way she always does, and something bubbles up from your chest. maybe it’s been there for a while, tucked behind your ribs, but it feels new when it finally comes out.

“do you ever think about when we’ll actually... start?” you ask, not looking at her. your thumb traces a loose thread in the blanket.

there’s a pause. then she moves her foot and sits up properly, like she hears the weight in your voice and knows it deserves her full attention.

“start what, baby?” she asks, even though you both know what you mean. you shrug, still not meeting her eyes.

“ivf. the baby. all of it.” it goes quiet again for a second, but not in a bad way. you can hear her breathing, slow and steady. then she scoots closer, pulling your hand into hers.

“i think about it all the time,” she says softly.

your eyes prick before you can stop them. it’s silly; you’re the one who said it first, after all. but hearing her say that, that she’s been thinking about it too, like she’s been waiting... it hits something deep in your chest, something that’s been hiding in the pits of your stomach for longer than you care to recall. you nod quickly, like you’re trying to shake the tears away, but your voice cracks anyway. “i don’t know why it makes me so emotional. i just, I want it. so much. and i’m scared.” leah doesn’t flinch. she just brings your joined hands up to her lips and kisses your knuckles, one by one.

“of course you’re scared. it’s a big deal, making a whole human.” her smile is soft. “but we’re gonna do it together. and we don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, letting her warmth soak into you. leah hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face as she listens to the way you try and regain your ability to breathe calmly. “we don’t have to rush. we’re engaged, not on a timer.”

you laugh wetly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “you’re so annoyingly calm about this.” she grins, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand.

“one of us has to be. you cry at ‘call the midwife’.”

“shut up,” you mumble, but you’re smiling now too. it doesn’t solve everything. you still have questions, decisions to make, a whole unknown ahead of you. but for now, leah wraps her arm around you and tucks you into her side, and it feels a little more possible. like maybe, just maybe, this is the start of the ball rolling.

━━━━━━

you don’t talk about it again for a while.

not because you don’t want to, not really, but life just sort of.. rolls over you, like it always does.

the season wraps up, which means leah’s schedule is all over the place. interviews, events, charity dinners, flying back and forth for end-of-year bits with the club. you get pulled into family things too, your sister’s moving house, your cousin’s baby shower (which is a whole thing on its own), and your mum keeps roping you into “quick” errands that always turn into all-day excursions. the days blur into heat and trains and too much coffee. leah’s home but not really home, you pass each other in the kitchen, in bed, quick kisses and quiet I love yous before sleep eats you both alive. it’s not bad. just busy. loud. life-y.

but then one night, weeks and months after the initial conversation, your mind reels again. truth be told it hadn’t stopped since you first discussed it, the thought always in the back of your mind. tonight the thought feels different though, not scary or intimidating, just there. you’re folding laundry at the end of the bed, back to leah and trying to make sense of the mismatched socks and crumpled t-shirts, the way leah somehow manages to wear three jumpers in a day when she’s home even in summer.

she’s laid out across the mattress behind you, one arm thrown over her eyes, hair still damp from her shower. every so often she hums at a song on the playlist, but mostly she’s quiet. soft. the kind of quiet you only get when you’re really comfortable. safe. you fold one of her hoodies and pause, hands hovering, then glance over your shoulder.

“i’ve been thinking about calling the doctors,” you say. it’s casual, like you’re commenting on the weather, but your heart thuds anyway. leah doesn’t move at first. then her arm shifts, and she turns her head toward you.

“yeah?” her voice is low, gentle.

you nod, eyes back on the laundry now. “just… to start the process. maybe ask some questions. get a sense of what it’d actually look like. i don’t know.” you feel the bed shift, and then her arms are around your waist from behind, her chin resting between your shoulder blades. she’s warm, her breath steady where it touches the cotton of your shirt.

“that sounds like a good idea,” she murmurs. “you been thinking about it a lot?”

“yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “i know we haven’t talked about it for a while, and we’ve both been too busy to properly talk about it again, but- but it’s been on my mind. not in a pressured way, just.. there. all the time. kind of like, when you want something and you’re trying not to scare it off.”

leah nods against your back. “i get that.”

you place the last shirt onto the pile beside you and let out a breath, leaning into her arms. “i just don’t want to wait forever, you know? i want time. i want to give us room for it to be messy. in case it doesn’t work the first time. or the second.”

she’s quiet for a long moment, then she presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. “i want that too.”

you turn in her arms so you’re facing her now, kneeling a little on the bed as she sits back on her heels. she’s watching you in that way she does sometimes, eyes kind and open, like she’s holding space just for you.

“so maybe this week,” you say. “maybe i call. just to see what’s what.”

“i’ll come with you,” leah says, immediate and certain.

“to the call?”

you both share a few confused and breathy laughs, leah leans forward, rests her forehead against yours. “no, idiot. to whatever comes after.”

your chest tightens, but in a warm way this time, like something is settling into place.

“okay,” you whisper.

and leah kisses you, slow and steady, like there’s all the time in the world.

because maybe now, there is.

━━━━━━

it’s been about a month since you made the call.

it’s been a month since you made the call.

a real, grown-up, shaky-voiced call to the gp to ask how to get started. the woman on the other end had been kind, refreshingly unfazed, and walked you through the steps. first came a referral to a fertility clinic, which took a couple of weeks to process. then the clinic called, emailed you a pile of paperwork, and scheduled your first proper consultation.

and somehow, that’s today.

you’re standing in the bedroom tugging at your jumper for what feels like the fifth time, even though you know you’re not going to magically look “more ready” than you already do. leah’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with her hands loosely knotted in her lap.

“you okay?” she asks gently.

you nod, then shake your head. “i don’t know. i feel like the minute we walk in there they’re gonna tell us something awful.”

leah stands and crosses the room to you, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. she smells like laundry powder and that face moisturiser she swears doesn’t make a difference. “they’re not,” she says. “but if they do, we handle it. together. alright?”

you nod again, this time with a small exhale. “alright.”

the clinic is modern and warm in that polished, slightly impersonal way. the front desk woman takes your name when you check in. you’re both handed another clipboard of forms, which you fill out slowly while seated side by side in the waiting area, your knees touching, leah tapping her pen against the plastic over and over.

when they call your names, the room feels suddenly too quiet.

the doctor is kind. older than you expected, with wire-rimmed glasses and a tone that balances both directness and softness. she walks you through the basics: bloodwork, hormone tracking, egg count checks, donor options. the emotional and physical implications. the fact that it can take time. you both listen closely, nodding, asking questions when you need to, and scribbling little notes in the margins of the folder you brought. then she pauses to glance down at her notes.

“have you both talked about who’s planning to carry?” you freeze slightly. it’s not a hard question, but it’s heavier than the others. you’d been avoiding the answer, not because you didn’t know it, but because you were scared to name it out loud. scared it would sound selfish. final. real. you open your mouth to say something vague, but leah beats you to it.

“she does,” she says, clear and quiet.

your eyes dart to hers. “leah,”

“i know,” she says quickly, before you can start listing all the reasons that it should still be a conversation. “we can talk more. but we’ve talked about it, haven’t we? you want to. and i want you to.”

your mouth presses into a thin line. “you’re allowed to want it too.”

she tilts her head. “i know. but i don’t need it. you’ve wanted this for as long as i’ve known you. it means something different to you. you blink once. then again. you hadn’t expected her to say it like that, so simply. no big declarations, no guilt-tripping. just.. the truth. you clear your throat, trying to swallow around the lump that’s managed to sneak its way up.

“yeah. okay.” you say lowly, eyes on leah.

the doctor, sensing the moment, nods and carries on. an initial scan is booked for next week. blood tests and health assessments this week if you're up for it. she explains the next few steps, the realistic timelines, the costs. none of it is sugarcoated, but none of it feels impossible either.

you leave with your arms full of leaflets, printouts, test forms. you feel a bit like you’ve just been hit by a very polite, very educational truck. outside, you take a deep breath and look at leah, who slides her sunglasses on like nothing in the world just shifted.

“well,” you say.

she nods. “yeah. that was a lot.”

“you sure about what you said in there?” leah doesn’t look at you, just starts walking toward the car.

“yep, i wouldn’t have said it unless i meant it.”

you smile, something soft settling in your chest. not dreamy or dramatic. just solid.

the morning of your blood tests arrives faster than you expected, 3 days have blurred past and then suddenly you’re dressed in something comfortable but easy to roll up your sleeve in. a loose long-sleeve top and jeans, and leah’s already downstairs making coffee when you come into the kitchen.

“ready?” she asks, handing you a travel mug, “decaf, doctors orders,”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “yeah. let’s just get it done.”

the drive to the clinic is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. parking is easier this time, and you find yourself surprised at how normal the whole place feels now only after just one visit. the same white walls, the same soft hum of fluorescent lights. at reception, the nurse greets you warmly and asks if it’s your first visit for the tests. when you say yes, she hands you some paperwork to double-check your details and reminds you to keep hydrated but to avoid caffeine, leah reassuring here the coffee in the travel mug is decaf.

you sit in the waiting room, leah close by. the minutes pass slower here than anywhere else, and your fingers twitch a bit, like they want to fidget but you’re trying to stay calm. when your name is called, you stand and follow a nurse down a bright hallway lined with photos of flowers and landscapes.

in the lab room, the phlebotomist is cheerful, making small talk about your plans for the weekend as she preps the needle. it helps, the way she talks, easy and friendly, like this is just another part of someone’s day, not a huge step towards something life-changing. once the needle’s in and the vials start filling, you steal a glance at leah, who’s sitting patiently nearby, offering a quiet smile that steadies you more than she knows.

afterward, the doctor pops in for a quick check-in. she asks if you have any questions about the next steps, about the hormone tracking, the scans, what to expect in the coming weeks. you ask about side effects, timing, how they’ll know when the best window for implantation is.

she explains it clearly, patiently. “the blood tests show your hormone levels, especially AMH, which helps indicate your ovarian reserve. the scans will track follicles during your cycle to find the optimal time for egg retrieval or implantation,” she pauses, flicking through a file in her hands. “it’s a bit of a puzzle,” she continues with a smile, “but it’s why we do all this monitoring, to make the process as smooth and successful as possible.”

you nod, grateful for the straightforwardness. leah squeezes your hand under the table as the doctor finishes up, her presence calm and constant. you leave the clinic with a little more confidence, armed with appointment dates, instructions, and a clearer picture of what lies ahead.

the following week you have your first ultrasound.

you sit on the edge of the exam bed, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as the ultrasound technician enters with a friendly smile. “hi, i’m emma,” she says, “i’ll be doing your scan today. just so you know, it’ll be a transvaginal ultrasound. it’s the best way to get a clear picture of your ovaries and uterus. it can feel a bit uncomfortable, but it’s over quickly.”

leah squeezes your hand reassuringly. you nod, swallowing hard. “okay, thank you.”

emma pulls on gloves and applies cold gel, helping you lie back and get comfortable. as she begins, she talks you through what you’re seeing on the screen.

“so, here are your ovaries, you can see these small dark circles? those are follicles. we’re checking how many you have and their size. this helps us understand your ovarian reserve and how ready your ovaries are to respond to stimulation.”

you glance at the screen, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes. “is that normal?” you ask, pointing hesitantly.

emma smiles. “yes, those sizes are just right for this stage. everything looks healthy so far. your uterine lining is here — see how nice and thick it is? that’s important for implantation later.”

leah leans forward, curious. “how often do you monitor the follicles after this?”

“usually every few days once stimulation starts,” emma replies. “we’re tracking growth to time egg retrieval perfectly. if follicles aren’t developing as expected, we adjust meds.”

you take a breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “can you tell from this if there are any issues?”

emma shakes her head gently. “nothing obvious right now. sometimes things come up later, but this is a really good baseline.” the scan ends quickly, and emma wipes away the gel. the doctor steps in to review the images with you both.

“everything looks promising,” she says. “your ovaries are functioning normally, and your lining is ideal. we’ll start your hormone injections soon and keep close tabs on progress.”

leah leans over to brush a kiss across your temple, her voice low. “we’re doing this.”

you nod, a little overwhelmed but ready. “yeah. we are,”

━━━━━━

the weeks that follow fly by in a dizzy blur. early mornings filled with carefully measured hormone injections, needle after needle, day after day, in the fridge, on the counter, in the bathroom. you learn the rhythms quickly, setting alarms, double-checking dosages, swallowing your nerves with every prick. leah’s always there, sometimes steadying your hand, sometimes just sitting close when you need to cry or rage at the unfairness of it all.

calls with doctors become a regular thing, updates on bloodwork, changes in medication, reminders about appointments. everything feels clinical but urgent, like you’re racing a clock that doesn’t stop ticking. your cycle tracking app lights up with notes and alarms, hormones rising and falling, highs and lows rippling through your body. mood swings hit without warning. one moment you’re hopeful and laughing; the next, you’re overwhelmed, teary, raw.

then comes the day of the egg retrieval. you’re groggy from sedation, but the ache afterward is sharp and real. leah’s voice is soft in your ear, reassuring but tired too.

in between all this, you sit with the donor profiles, faces, stories, medical histories, and the weight of choice presses down harder than you expected. there are moments you feel strong, ready to take it all on. but others when the hormones flood your system and you’re a mess, overstimulated, weepy over nothing, craving comfort and space all at once. time compresses and stretches. appointments, injections, scans, decisions. it’s relentless and through it all, leah stays your anchor. steady, patient, loving.

a few days after the retrieval, you’re back at the clinic, the tension almost physical as you wait for the call from the embryologist. leah’s beside you, fingers laced through yours, but you can barely breathe. you're both sat opposite your doctor, who is trying to make small talk from the other side of the desk as you await the call. when the phone finally rings, the doctor’s voice is warm but businesslike.

“we retrieved twelve eggs. ten fertilised successfully. we’ll keep monitoring their growth over the next few days and let you know when they’re ready for transfer.”

you blink, the numbers swirling in your head, hope mixed with cautious optimism.

the days after that are a blur of updates over the phone, embryos growing, splitting, some making it further than others. then, implantation.

you arrive at the clinic early, nerves buzzing under your skin. the procedure is quick, almost anticlimactic, but your heart pounds like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever done.

the doctor reminds you to take it easy, avoid strenuous activity, and keep stress low. the waiting begins. the two-week wait, the hardest part.

leah wraps you in quiet comfort, reminding you that no matter what, everything will be okay. every twinge, every ache, every mood swing is magnified in your mind as you wait for that moment, that sign.

the two-week wait turns into its own kind of world. one that exists just between the two of you. you don’t tell anyone. no texts to your best friend, no calls to leah’s mum, no vague hints to the people who might guess. it’s your secret. your maybe. and in some strange way, that makes it feel special. sacred.

there’s this hum of something soft and hopeful between you, in the way leah kisses your shoulder before bed, the way she rubs your back absentmindedly while you brush your teeth, the way she leaves sticky notes on the fridge that say things like “growing team w.”

“what if it worked?” she whispers one night as you lie tangled in sheets and silence.

you smile into her collarbone. “then we get to tell everyone. but just us for now, yeah?”

“just us,” she echoes, pressing a kiss to your temple.

each day is a weird mix of hyper-awareness and pretending not to care. every twinge, every ache, every mood swing feels like a sign. but you don’t test early. you wait. just like they said. on the morning of day fourteen, your hands shake as you open the test. you sit on the edge of the tub, leah crouched in front of you in her hoodie, hair still messy from sleep, her thumb brushing lightly over your knee. you wait in silence.

and then… nothing. one line. not pregnant.

you don’t cry right away. just kind of sit there, blinking at it, heart heavy but quiet. like you’d already prepared for this exact outcome even if you didn’t want to believe it.

“okay,” you say, voice small. “okay.”

leah takes the test from your hand gently and sets it aside. pulls you into her lap like it’s instinct. holds you there until your breath hiccups and the first tear finally slips out.“we’re okay,” she whispers. “we’re gonna try again. we’re not done.” and even though it hurts, even though disappointment hangs thick in the air, you believe her.

the days after are kind of strange. you’re not exactly sad in the way you thought you’d be. not devastated or inconsolable. just.. flat. like someone pressed pause on everything inside you. your body feels like it’s been through something and your brain hasn’t quite caught up. the bloating, the soreness, the tiny bruises on your stomach from the injections, still fading. evidence of all the effort, even though nothing came from it.

leah’s gentle with you in a way she doesn’t point out. no big speeches, no forced positivity. just warm tea without asking, her hand always finding yours under blankets, forehead kisses before bed like punctuation. you talk about it one night, two days later. half-wrapped in a duvet on the couch, takeaway between you, a rerun of some game on mute in the background.

“i thought i’d be more wrecked,” you admit, chewing on a bite of cold chip. “but i think i’m just... tired.”

leah nods. “you’re allowed to be. this whole thing’s a lot.”

you look over at her. “you still wanna keep going?”

she doesn’t hesitate. “course i do.” you let yourself believe that answer, lean into it a little.

another few days pass before you call the clinic. it’s a short conversation, they explain what comes next, when your period arrives, they’ll schedule your next baseline scan. adjustments to the medication, maybe. they’re hopeful. they remind you this is normal.

you hang up and say, quietly, “we’re on the list again.”

leah grins, soft but sure. “round two.”

━━━━━━

blood tests. scans. more injections. second round. retrieval day comes and goes again, fewer eggs this time. you try not to let that sink in too deep.

implantation. wait. hope. test. negative.

you blink back tears, throw the test in the bin like you’re tossing away a stupid receipt. leah pulls you into her arms, doesn’t say much. there’s not really anything to say.

do it all again.

round three starts and you try to feel different this time, more grounded, more prepared. but your body aches before the shots even start. the bloating comes quicker, your moods crash harder. your skin feels tight over your bones. everything gets under your skin.

more bloods. more scans. another retrieval. fewer fertilised this time.

implantation.

leah kisses you tenderly before she leaves for international duty.

“i’ll be back before you test,” she says, brushing a hand over your stomach. “text me if you need me.”

you nod. but your throat’s too tight to answer. the wait feels longer this time. lonelier.

she sends photos from camp, teammates, training, hotel breakfasts. she means well. you heart them all, but don’t say much back.

you’re tired of waiting, of hoping. of pretending it still feels exciting.

you take the test alone. again.

negative. again.

you sit on the cold bathroom floor for longer than you need to. knees pulled to your chest. eyes fixed on the wall.

you still haven’t told anyone you’ve even started trying. not your friends. not your family. it was supposed to be your little secret, something sacred. now it just feels heavy.

you call leah, and she answers breathless, somewhere between the pitch and the gym.

you don’t say anything at first. then, just:

“it didn’t work.”

silence. then her soft, quiet, “shit. baby…”

your voice cracks. “i don’t know how many more times i can do this.”

and for the first time, she doesn’t rush in with solutions or promises. she just breathes with you. holds space through a phone line. and somehow, that’s enough. for now.

━━━━━━

you take things slower this time.

there’s no rush, no frantic energy like before. just small steps. quiet preparation. you go to your baseline scan and let the cold gel sit a little longer on your skin. you listen more closely when the nurse explains your hormone schedule. you ask questions this time, real ones, about timing, about statistics, about what your body’s been through and what it can still do.

leah’s there for every appointment, even the ones that don’t seem important. she’s gentler with you now. not careful like you’ll break, but present. solid. hers is the hand you hold when you get your blood drawn, the shoulder you lean on during the hour-long wait for the consultant, the voice in your ear telling you you’re brave even when you don’t feel it. you do the injections slower, too. no rushing in the bathroom before work. just quiet evenings with leah holding the ice pack to your thigh, reading the instructions out loud even though you both know them by heart. you still get bloated. still cry at adverts for nappies. still stare too long at the prams in shop windows. but it’s quieter now, like grief and hope have learned how to sit beside each other.

one morning, while digging through a drawer for a clean hoodie, you find it. the tiny baby-grow. arsenal red. still folded, tags on. a stupid impulse buy after the first implantation, when you were still full of belief. you sit down on the edge of the bed and hold it to your chest. it smells like nothing. clean cotton. empty.

you cry, properly cry, for the first time in a while. not just for the thing you want, but for how badly you still want it. then you fold it back up, careful and slow. tuck it in the back of the drawer. hidden. safe.

just in case. you don’t tell leah. you keep going.

scans. bloods. retrieval day again.

you count eggs in your head while lying on the crinkly paper sheet.

you rest your hand over your belly and whisper something only you hear. “this time. maybe this time.”

the two-week wait feels quieter this time. not softer, just quieter. like your body knows how to carry it now, you don’t talk about it much with leah. it’s there, unspoken, in everything, the way she pulls you into her chest at night, the way she runs her hand over your back while you’re brushing your teeth, the way she makes sure you never take your vitamins alone. you both pretend to be casual about it. casual about everything. but sometimes you catch her staring at your stomach when she thinks you’re not looking, and sometimes she finds you sat in the hallway, just.. waiting. for what, you don’t even know.

you told yourself you’d wait until the full two weeks. no early testing. you swore you’d be patient this time.

but leah’s out running errands, twenty minutes she said, and suddenly you’re pacing the bathroom floor with a test in your hand and your heart in your throat.

you pee. wait.

you don’t even sit down. just stand in the doorway, arms crossed tight, watching it.

after three minutes, you glance. and you freeze. there. so faint you think maybe you’re imagining it. you tilt the test toward the light. it’s still there. a second line.

barely visible, like it’s made of shadow and hope and everything you’ve wanted for months. your hand flies to your mouth. you don’t cry, not yet, just stand there staring, like it might vanish if you breathe too loud. your chest feels too small. your legs go a little shaky. you grab your phone, snap a picture of the test in case it disappears by the time leah gets back.

and then you just, sit. on the edge of the tub. holding the test in both hands like it’s made of glass. it’s not certain. it’s not strong. it’s not official. but it’s something, and you tell yourself you won’t test again. but the next morning, before leah wakes, you’re back in the bathroom. sitting on the closed toilet lid, cold floor against your feet, heart thudding too loud. another test, you watch it like it’s a magic trick and there it is; again. the second line. a whisper stronger than yesterday.

you bite your lip so hard it stings. you don’t tell leah. not yet.

you slip back into bed like nothing happened. press your face into her back. let her warmth steady your breathing.

day 9. test number three. darker.

day 10. you save the wrapper this time, place the test gently on a tissue like it’s delicate, precious. you line it up next to the others you’ve hidden behind the cleaning products under the sink.

day 11, 12, 13. the lines are real now. clear. undeniable.

your hands still shake every morning. your heart still stutters every time it appears. but you don’t cry. you don’t jump to conclusions. you just keep going. like you're scared speaking it aloud will undo the spell. sometimes you stare at the row of tests like they’re part of some secret language only you can read. proof you’ve been carrying alone, too scared to share it, too afraid it might vanish. you rehearse the words in your head. think about how you’ll tell her. how you’ll say, “i think it worked.” or, “we’re really doing this.” but they never make it out of your mouth, and you wait. day fourteen is tomorrow. you decide that’s when you’ll show her everything, because the line is dark now. dark and steady and real.

━━━━━━

day fourteen begins before the sun rises. you wake to the soft hush of the house, the sky outside still painted in dark blues and muted greys. leah is asleep beside you, her breathing slow and even, one hand tucked under her cheek. you lie there for a moment, just watching her. the curve of her back, the little line between her brows even in sleep. you almost stay. almost let yourself drift back down. but the weight in your chest is too loud now, too full. you need to know. even though, deep down, you already do.

you slip out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb her, and pad barefoot down the hallway. the test is already waiting on the bathroom counter. the last of the pack, tucked behind the mirror where she wouldn’t see. your fingers tremble as you unwrap it, heart pounding harder with every second. the process is so familiar by now it’s almost mechanical: test, wait, watch. but this time feels different.

you crouch on the cold tile floor, arms wrapped tightly around your knees, eyes fixed on the little window as the control line appears almost instantly.

and then the second one. clear. steady. bold. your breath catches in your throat. you close your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. but the tears come anyway. not the panicked kind you’ve cried through before. this time, it’s different. softer. quieter. like the kind of crying your body does when it finally allows itself to hope.

you wipe your cheeks with your sleeve and reach into the drawer beneath the sink. hidden under a stack of clean towels is the baby-grow. the tiny, red arsenal onesie you bought after the very first round. the one you folded away when things started falling apart. the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out. you smooth it gently across the counter and line the pregnancy tests beside it. all eight of them, fanned out like pages in a story only you’ve been reading.

you stand back and stare at the little display. it looks almost sacred. private and precious, full of waiting and want and weeks of pain. you take a shaky breath, touch the sleeve of the baby-grow once more, snap a secret picture with your phone and then slip out of the bathroom.

downstairs, the kitchen is still dark, the early light just beginning to stretch through the windows. you make coffee slowly, the routine grounding you. kettle on, mugs out, sugar stirred absentmindedly. your hands are still trembling when you wrap them around the warm ceramic. you sit at the table and wait. upstairs, there’s the sound of the bed creaking. the floorboards creak a little too, then silence again. then, the soft click of the bathroom door.

you don’t move. you just close your eyes and take a deep breath, counting your heartbeats like they might keep you still. she doesn’t call your name. doesn’t ask. instead, you hear the slow steps down the stairs, and then she’s there- standing in the kitchen doorway.

she looks like she’s been crying. the baby-grow is clutched in her hand, the other holding the most recent test like she needs it to ground herself.

her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks. “are you serious?”

you nod, your own throat tight, eyes blurring again. “i didn’t want to tell you until i was sure.”

she crosses the room in seconds and drops to her knees in front of you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pressing her face into the soft of your stomach. you cradle her there, fingers tangled in her hair, both of you holding onto this fragile, enormous moment.

“we’re really doing this,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“yeah,” you say, smiling through your tears, “we are.”

and for the first time in months, it doesn’t feel like a maybe. it feels real.

97 notes · View notes

hazelira · 1 day ago

Text

only yours, too

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

The quiet hum of the washing machine filled the air, a soft background to the muffled sounds of rain outside. Your feet were swollen again, and the baby kicked every time you tried to lie down. You shifted on the couch, exhausted but smiling as Sunghoon returned from the kitchen, gently placing a warm compress on your belly.

“I think she’s going to be a dancer,” you joked breathlessly. Sunghoon chuckled, kissing your forehead.

But the laughter faded when you both heard a soft sniff from the hallway.

Sunghoon turned instinctively. In the dim light, there stood your four-year-old son, Sungwoo — a plushie dragging limply from his hand, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked so small in his footie pyjamas, lips trembling.

“Sungwoo?” Sunghoon moved quickly but carefully, kneeling in front of his son. “Buddy? What’s wrong?”

Sungwoo didn’t answer at first. He just pressed the stuffed bear tighter to his chest. His voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and thick.

“Do you still love me?”

The words hit Sunghoon like a punch to the chest.

“What?” he breathed, eyes wide. He reached for Sungwoo’s tiny hands, holding them gently. “Of course I do. I love you so much, Sungwoo.”

“But you only talk about the baby now…” Sungwoo said, voice cracking. “You read her stories. You rub Mommy’s belly all the time. You said she’s gonna be beautiful.” His lip wobbled. “What if… what if you don’t want to be my daddy anymore?”

Sunghoon froze. Pain and guilt twisted in his stomach. This was his little boy. The same one who used to fall asleep on his chest every night, who made him wear dinosaur stickers to work once because he needed protection.

And now, that little boy was afraid.

Sunghoon scooped Sungwoo into his arms without another word, sitting on the carpet with him cradled against his chest. He rocked him slowly, pressing kisses to his hair.

“Sungwoo,” he murmured, voice thick. “You were the first baby ever to call me Dada. Do you know what that means to me?”

Sungwoo sniffled, shaking his head.

“It means you taught me how to love like this. You made me a dad. You made me want to be better. And I will always be yours, okay? Even when the baby comes, even when you’re big and tall and going to school — I’m still your daddy first. Forever.”

Sungwoo’s fingers curled in his shirt. “Even if I don’t like her yet?”

Sunghoon smiled, stroking his son’s hair. “Even then. You don’t have to like her yet. That’s okay. Feelings are confusing, huh?”

Sungwoo nodded.

“I get jealous sometimes, too,” Sunghoon whispered. “When you cuddle Mama and don’t let me in.”

Sungwoo giggled quietly.

“You’re allowed to feel upset, Sungwoo. But I’m here. I see you, I hear you, and I love you. Nothing is going to change that.”

“…Really?”

“Really. Want me to show you how much?”

Sungwoo tilted his head.

Sunghoon stood up, carrying him like he did when Sungwoo was just a baby. “Let’s build the biggest, strongest pillow fort in the living room. You and me. We’ll even bring snacks.”

“Even the gummy ones Mommy hides?”

“…Don’t tell her.”

Sungwoo finally laughed — that sweet, bubbly sound that always melted Sunghoon. He nodded, his arms wrapping tightly around his dad’s neck.

And for a while, in that pillow fort with flashlight stars and stolen snacks, Sunghoon reminded his son that love didn’t shrink when a family grew — it only made room for more.

But he’d always have a heart with Sungwoo’s name carved into it first.

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 days ago

Text

Blood singer, part 12

Summary: Jasper has a surprise, one that brings both joy and more worries.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder, mentions of a period

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 11.1k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

The morning light is soft, golden rays slipping lazily through the curtains and over the tangled bedsheets and blanket Y/N’s still wrapped up in. She stirs, her fingers stretching across the empty space beside her.

Jasper’s not there.

She opens her eyes slowly, the haze of sleep still clinging to her eyelids, blurring her vision. The first thing she sees is the hollow dip in the mattress where Jasper had laid and held her hours before, his shape still etched into the sheets. Her body aches slightly, not painfully, but in the way it always does when she falls asleep cuddling Jasper. While her heart loves falling asleep on his chest, her body protests every morning. Despite all expectations, hugging someone rock hard for a prolonged period of time isn’t the most comfortable choice for a human.

Her eyes drift toward the window, finding Jasper. He’s standing there, silent, unmoving, watching the trees like he hears whisper of secrets carried in the wind only he understands.

“Jasper…” Her voice is soft and scratchy from sleep. “Come back to bed.”

He doesn’t move. The morning sun outlines him like a ghost with his golden hair tousled, bare arms rigid at his sides. His jacket is gone, forgotten somewhere on the floor, and his rigid stance tells her something isn’t right. When she closed her eyes last night, she was under the impression everything was resolved and they could just go back to how things were. It doesn’t seem like it anymore.

She kicks the blanket off and pads across the wooden floor, not bothering to hide the way her shirt is sliding off one shoulder, or how her shorts are twisted slightly from sleep. She leans into him, cheek brushing the middle of his back.

“Did you watch me sleep again?” she murmurs with a crooked smile. “It’s giving kinda romantic… kinda serial killer.”

Still, no laugh. Not even a smirk. Jasper turns slowly, and the second she sees his face, truly sees it, her stomach sinks. His eyes are dark with thoughts that have been taunting him, brows knitted together, mouth tense like he's holding back words he could never take back. But it’s his hands that reach for hers, gently, with adoration and anguish she wants to erase from his face that truly make her heart pick up pace.

He lifts them into the light and that’s when she sees it; faint but unmistakable…bruises. Pale lavender and muted red, blooming underneath like a watercolor explosion around the delicate curves of her wrists where his fingers had held her down.

Y/N blinks. “Oh.”

He doesn’t speak. Just stares at the marks like they’re screaming.

“They don’t hurt,” she reassures him quickly. “Jasper…It’s just a bruise,” she tries again, her voice soothing, brushing her thumbs along his knuckles. “They’ll fade.”

He pulls his gaze from her wrists to her eyes, and the pain there makes her chest physically ache. His jaw is locked so tight it looks like it hurts to speak.

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t pretend it’s nothing.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you it’s not the tragedy you’re making it out to be.”

“I could’ve broken your wrists, Y/N.” His voice is flat, distant and devastatingly beautiful in its grief. “I could’ve snapped them without even trying. I could’ve killed you. I almost did.”

She pulls her hands free, gently but firmly. “Stop,” she says, staring him down.

He flinches like the word struck him.

“I knew what I was doing,” she continues. “I wanted it. I chose to kiss you. I chose to lose control with you. You didn’t drag me into anything I didn’t ask for.”

He shakes his head, backing away from the window like her words burn. “That’s not an excuse. Your skin is softer than paper, Y/N. You trusted me and I used that trust and turned it into bruises.”

“It’s not about the damn bruises!” she snaps, frustrated now, stepping into his space again. “You’re so focused on the damage you could have done that you can’t even see the progress we made. Jasper, we’ve never been closer than we were last night. We talked. We opened up. You didn’t run from me when I nagged and asked questions or kissed you like you’re the air I need to breathe. You held me…You touched me the way I want to be touched.”

He says nothing, but his eyes linger on hers for a moment.

“I love you,” she says, quieter this time. “And I’m not sorry I touched you. I’m not sorry I kissed you. And I’m sure as hell not sorry I trusted you to share my bed in more ways than one.”

He looks at her like she’s the sun and he’s forgotten how warm the sunrays are. He’s never felt the warmth of someone’s words before, not like this.

“I know you hate this part of yourself,” she whispers, reaching for his hand again. “But you didn’t lose control. You stopped. That means everything.”

His voice is broken when he finally speaks again. “I want to be better for you.”

She steps closer, pressing her forehead to his. “You already are.”

Jasper's thumb strokes over the back of her hand as though he's still unsure she's real. His fingers tremble slightly, but not from thirst and not from hunger. They tremble from the overwhelming tenderness of being allowed to love her with all his might and still be loved despite the mistakes he keeps repeating.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, voice low and aching. “Not just for the bruises. For... everything. For running last night. For making you doubt even for a second that I’d come back.”

Y/N shakes her head gently, stepping in to rest her forehead against his collarbone. Her hands slide up his chest, slow and soft. “I wouldn’t hold it against you…If you needed a break. Jasper, you might be a vampire, but you’re also allowed to ask for space if you want it.”

His arms encircle her waist gently, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Let me do something for you today.”

Her eyes find his.

“I want you to take a hot shower, get dressed, and come downstairs when you're ready. I’ll make you breakfast,” he says, voice gaining quiet confidence. “Then… I want to take you somewhere.”

Her brows rise instantly. “Take me where?”

He smirks, backing up just enough to see her face. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” she echoes, narrowing her eyes. “I hate surprises.”

“I know,” he says, leaning in to kiss her nose. “But I think you’ll like this one.”

She squints. “Is it a gift? Is it a location? Is there a clue you can give me? Temperature? Elevation? Threat level?”

“Mm-mm,” he hums, lips twitching.

She crosses her arms. “How am I supposed to emotionally prepare if you don’t tell me anything?”

Jasper grins mischievously, almost boyish in the faint morning light. “You’re not.”

“Oh, really?” she challenges, stepping back.

Then, without ceremony, she hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts and slowly starts shimmying them down her thighs. His eyes follow them down instantly. Her shirt comes next, peeled up and over her head in one smooth motion until she’s left standing there in nothing but a thin, black bralette and panties, the soft morning light illuminating the curves of her bare skin.

Jasper stares, trying to keep his hands to himself.

She raises a brow. “Still not talking?”

He blinks once. Then his boyish grin sharpens into something more wicked. “You think nudity’s gonna get secrets out of me?”

“I can at least try,” she says, shrugging innocently.

He laughs, the sound loud, bright and warm, and it wraps around her like sunlight. “You’re playing with my sanity too much, Darlin’.”

She smirks. “You make it too easy for me.”

He leans in to kiss her temple. “Shower. Or I will forget the plan and prove exactly how dangerous I can be.”

“And what if that’s precisely what I want,” she grins at him, but she heads for the bathroom anyway, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

He watches her until she disappears behind the door, then exhales, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile still tugging at his lips before leaving the room.

The water is hot, just how she likes it, and she stands beneath the spray for a long while, letting the night wash from her skin. Her fingers trace slowly over her wrists, lingering on the fading bruises – Jasper’s fingerprints. They don’t hurt, but they’re stark against her skin acting as more than just a reminder. They’re a mirror to how deeply he feels and how much it destroys him to be the cause of even a moment’s pain.

When she steps out and wraps herself in a towel, she’s relieved to get rid of her period underwear and pads. Seems Mother Nature is merciful this month to them both, making it a four day period, instead of the usual five days of torture she expected.

She dresses carefully. A soft, oversized black sweater, lightweight but long-sleeved. She tugs it down over her wrists and smooths it into place. Not to hide the bruises for herself, but for him. Because she loves him enough to want him free of the guilt. Because if he keeps punishing himself for loving her, touching her, then neither of them will survive the kind of bond they’re building. Besides, the sweater offers enough insulation, allowing her to hug her boyfriend as much as she wants without freezing in the process.

This time, she’s not going to let him backtrack and lose all the progress she’s made.

The scent of toasted bread and sizzling butter greets her before she even reaches the bottom of the stairs. Y/N stops in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, watching from the shadows as Jasper Hale; ex-soldier, immortal predator, eternal stoic, leans over the stovetop in a soft black T-shirt and washed out jeans, frowning with absolute concentration at what can only be described as a valiant attempt at breakfast.

He’s got two slices of toast stacked neatly on a plate, scrambled eggs warm beside them, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice already poured and waiting. There’s also a pan on the counter beside him containing something… sweet? Brown? Slightly uneven?

Her lips curve. He’s trying to make a dessert and he’s failing adorably.

Y/N takes one silent step into the kitchen, her heart jumping at the sight of him, drooling over him acting like some kind of a brooding cowboy househusband.

She clears her throat. “Is it hot in here or is it just the chef?”

Jasper hums just slightly before turning to look at her, a bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Darlin’, you keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna burn the cinnamon toast.”

She laughs softly, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “So that’s what it is. I thought maybe it was a pancake… or a marshmallow.”

“It’s supposed to be cinnamon French toast sticks,” he admits, frowning at the pan. “But they’re… not cooperating.”

“They’re trying their best,” she teases, kissing the center of his back. “And so are you. Honestly, this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

He chuckles under his breath and reaches for a plate. “Hotter than that time I fought a bear?”

“Way hotter.”

He sets the plate down at the table, pulls out a chair for her. “Then sit down and let me impress you.”

She does, warmly, contentedly, tucking her sleeves over her hands as she stares at the meal he’s made with far more affection than it probably deserves. The eggs are a little overdone, the toast slightly uneven, but the orange juice glows in the glass like sunlight and the effort bleeds into every detail.

He sits across from her, elbows on the table, watching her with quiet curiosity as she takes her first bite.

She moans softly, chewing. “Okay. This is heavenly.”

Jasper’s smile is quiet but unmistakable. “Good.”

But she notices something as she lifts her juice…he’s not eating. Not even pretending to.

She narrows her eyes. “You made all this and you’re not having anything?”

He lifts a brow, clearly amused. “You do remember I’m a vampire, right?”

“Don’t you dare use that excuse.” She points her fork at him. “Emmett ate half the menu at the diner last night. Burger, fries, three milkshakes, two plates of onion rings. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Jasper lets out a low chuckle. “Emmett’s… the exception. He’s always been the one who’ll eat with Nessie. Even likes some of it.”

“So, wait, he enjoys human food?”

“Sometimes,” Jasper shrugs. “He says texture matters more than taste. Occasionally he’ll find something he likes. Milkshakes, mostly.”

“And the rest of you?”

“It’s… unappealing. Mostly tastes like dirt. And we can’t really digest it and have to get rid of it after a while.” He gives her a pointed look.

She pulls a face. “So basically, the undead version of food poisoning.”

“Pretty much.”

She grins, fork pausing mid-air. “Well, guess I’ll never win you over with cooking, huh?”

He tilts his head. “Darlin’, you won me over the first time you looked at me.”

She snorts. “Okay, but hear me out. I can’t cook for you… but I could give you a vial of my blood instead.”

Jasper’s gaze hardens. “Please don’t ever do that.”

She stares at him, eyes wide and innocent. “You missed that it was a joke, huh?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Half of me always thinks you're joking. The other half has war flashbacks.”

She leans on her elbows, grinning. “Okay, but serious hypothetical. What if I did give you a drop? Just one a day. Wouldn’t it help you build a tolerance to me?”

Jasper’s entire body stiffens. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because a drop wouldn’t be enough. It’d never be enough.” He shakes his head. “You think I could taste you and stop there? You’re not a test, Y/N. You’re not a game. I’m not risking your life so I can play scientists with your blood.”

She goes quiet, chewing slowly as the weight of his answer lands. “I just want to help you,” she says softly.

Jasper nods. “And I love that, I do. But I see no reason to risk your safety.”

They sit there in silence for a moment, soft light pouring over the table, the cinnamon toast steaming faintly between them.

She reaches across the table, taking his cold hand in hers.

“Well,” she says gently, “I guess I’ll just have to eat enough breakfast for both of us.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing her hand. “Deal.”

They’ve barely stepped off the porch when Jasper slips his fingers between hers and turns to her with a glint in his eye.

“Alright,” he says, head tilting slightly. “You want to drive? Or… would you rather run?”

Y/N stops short, brow lifting. “You don’t mean me running.”

His smile curves, lazy and far too pleased with himself. “No, Darlin’. I meant me. Running. You’d be in my arms, very securely along for the ride.”

She stares at him like he’s just offered her a death wish in a bow. “You,” she says slowly, “would be the one running.”

He nods.

She grimaces. “Promise not to drop me.”

Jasper’s laugh rumbles from his chest, warm and amused. “Never. You’re precious cargo.”

Before she can protest or brace herself, he’s swooping her up into his arms. She yelps, arms flinging instinctively around his neck.

“You really shouldn’t have fed me breakfast before this,” she mutters, burying her face against the side of his throat.

“You’ll survive,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll get us there in a few minutes. Just hold on.”

“Okay,” she huffs. “I’m ready.”

He grins, and then they’re gone.

The world blurs around her. Wind tears through her hair, whips against her face, her sweater rippling like it’s trying to fly off her body. Trees become streaks of green and brown, sky and sunlight flickering through the canopy. Her stomach flips as momentum hits her core, the forest floor a blur beneath them with no ground, no sky, no direction, just movement.

It’s like being caught in a dream where the earth’s been tilted sideways and she’s floating through it, anchored only by the strength of his arms. The speed is disorienting, exhilarating, terrifying.

Her fingers grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline, her face tucked tighter against his neck. He smells like pine, like rain-soaked stone and cinnamon.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “You said a few minutes!”

“Two more!” he calls over the roar of the wind.

She groans. “I hate this!”

“You said you were ready!”

“I lied!”

He laughs, delighted, shifting her just slightly to adjust his hold. His hands are strong and steady beneath her thighs, her back secure against his chest. Despite the chaos, she feels safe. There’s never a second she thinks he’ll actually drop her, but her stomach has definitely relocated to her throat.

The wind slows. The blur begins to resolve.

The trees grow wider apart, the sky opens above them, and finally, finally, his feet skid to a smooth halt on soft, mossy ground.

Silence.

Her hair’s a mess and her heart is racing. She moves her face from his neck with a groan. “I think I died and came back just now,” she mutters.

Jasper sets her down gently, hands lingering at her waist as he steadies her. “You good?”

She blinks, swaying once. “Give me a second. I think my organs are still catching up.”

He grins, brushing a leaf from her hair. “Told you I’d get us here quick.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, catching her breath. “Like a bullet train strapped to a bottle rocket.”

He kisses her cheek, just a brush and says, “Welcome to the surprise.”

She looks around, and for the first time, sees where they’ve landed. The forest breaks at a sharp edge, giving way to a view that steals her breath before she even realizes she’s holding it.

Below them, tucked between cliffs and rolling waves of the ocean, is a secluded cove; a hidden beach cradled by nature itself. The sand is pale gold, untouched and smooth like someone had brushed it clean with sunlight. The tide rolls in quietly, lapping against the shore with lazy elegance, and nestled close to one side is a natural pool carved out of rocks, filled with ocean water so clear it reflects the sky like glass.

And Jasper, oh, Jasper. He stands just beyond the shade of the trees, bathed in full sunlight. He glows. No, not glows, he shines. Skin like sculpted marble kissed by stars, the sunlight catching on every inch of him in a thousand scattered diamonds. His hair, tousled from the wind and their run, is streaked gold, his eyes brighter than the ocean below them. He looks like something the earth dreamed into existence and then tried to hide away.

Y/N lets out a breathy giggle, hand lifting to her mouth. “You didn’t tell me we were going to the beach.”

Jasper shrugs, entirely too casual. “It’s part of our history. I thought it would be perfect.”

Her lips tug into a flustered smile, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “And I didn’t bring a bikini.”

He grins, the corner of his mouth curling suggestively. “Also part of our history.”

She gasps, stepping closer with a playful spark in her eyes. “Someone’s brave today.”

He slides his hands around her hips, pulling her toward him as he tilts his head, amused. “Just following your lead, Darlin’.”

They both glance down toward the sand, the drop steep and sudden. The path carved between cliff and rock is narrow, nearly invisible. She eyes it warily.

“Wait…” she says, squinting. “You don’t mean…”

Jasper doesn’t answer, just raises a brow.

Her eyes widen. “No.”

He chuckles. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“NO!”

Before she can take a step back, he tugs her firmly to his chest and sweeps her off her feet. She gasps, then shrieks as the world drops out from under her. Wind rushes past her ears, hair whipping behind her, but his grip doesn’t waver. Not for a second.

She barely has time to open her eyes before her feet touch soft, warm sand and the world slows again.

She staggers, legs wobbly, heart galloping in her chest. “I’m going to kill you,” she huffs, grabbing the front of his shirt like it might steady the ground beneath her.

Jasper grins down at her, completely unrepentant. “I’m sure I can get you to forgive me, Darlin’.”

Once he’s certain she won’t collapse, he steps back and, in one smooth motion, pulls his shirt over his head. The muscles in his arms and back flex with the movement, lean and strong and perfect and sparkling. He starts unbuttoning his jeans.

Her mouth opens. “Who's trying to influence who with nudity now?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, smug. “Is it working?”

She watches, entirely too invested, as he shucks off his jeans with ease, now standing in nothing but dark boxers. The sun casts a golden glow over every line of his body, making him look like something carved out of light itself.

“Take those off too and you might have yourself a deal,” she says, lips pursed, teasing.

Jasper steps toward her slowly, head tilted. “Yeah?”

She hums, letting her eyes trail shamelessly down his chest, over his stomach, lingering just a second too long on his boxers. “I mean, I’m just trying to follow your lead.”

He laughs and shakes his head fondly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You make it hard for a man to keep his composure.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And with that, she slips her sweater over her head, determined not to be outdone. The last thing she wanted was to reveal her bruises to him in the harsh light of a sunny day, but she won’t let them draw his attention for too long. So, Y/N doesn’t rush. She keeps her eyes on him, steadily, unflinchingly as her fingers curl around the waistband of her pants, sliding them down inch by inch. The ocean breeze tousles her hair, brushing it across her bare shoulders as she stands before him in nothing but a black thong and a matching bra, sun softening every curve, every line.

Jasper watches her like he’s set foot in heaven. His mouth parts to speak, but no words come right away. He seems breathless, though he doesn’t need air. The sight of her undressing with such quiet confidence, her gaze never leaving his, unravels him in a way no enemy or battlefield ever could.

“How did you find this place?” She asks casually, as if he’s not struggling to keep his mind out of the gutter and focused on her.

“I found this place,” he says quietly, “the day I ran from you.”

Her expression shifts, curiosity mingling with caution as she tilts her head. “When I was at the hospital?”

He nods, the memory darkening his golden eyes. “I felt it in your emotions. You were torn thinking about me, about your place in my world and you weren’t sure if it was something you’d want at all. Your words were indicative of that inner battle, but I thought it was a sign. So, I left.”

Her brows furrow as she watches him, arms folding lightly over her stomach, her body unconsciously leaning in.

“I ran until I couldn’t hear the world anymore,” he continues, gaze drifting past her to the water below. “And I found this place. Hidden. Still. Like it had been waiting for someone to discover it. But even here, with the sun on my skin and the ocean breeze in my lungs, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

She exhales loudly, but he doesn’t pause.

“I thought the kindest thing I could do was make a clean break. That if I really loved you, I had to let you go.” He laughs bitterly. “So I left Forks. Went to Alaska. I thought if I hunted enough, ran enough, froze myself in isolation... eventually, you’d fade from me.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. Just listens.

“But every day, no matter where I ran, no matter how deep in the woods I sank my teeth into something that bled, I still thought of you. Worried about you. Wondered if you hated me. Wondered if you’d chosen Paul. If you’d moved on. If you were alive.”

His voice softens. “At night, I’d look up at the northern lights and think it doesn’t even compare to your beauty.”

She gasps softly, her heart thudding against her ribs like it’s trying to reach him.

Jasper raises a brow. “What?”

A sheepish smile curves her lips. “That’s the first time you’ve told me how beautiful you think I am.”

He stares at her for a second like she just said the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.

“Darlin’,” he says, stepping forward and gently cupping her face, “I must have said it a thousand times by now. How has it never registered with you?”

“Maybe I just needed to hear it this way,” she whispers, cheeks warm beneath his cool palms.

He smiles, pulling her into his arms, holding her like he never wants to let go again. “Come on,” he murmurs, leading her slowly toward the nature pool nestled between the sand and the cliffside. “It’s warm this time of day. Crystal clear with no waves.”

As they near the edge, her gaze shifts past the pool, out to the ocean itself. The vastness of it glistens like liquid diamonds under the sun, waves curling gently onto the shore. She pauses.

He feels it in her body, the way her shoulders tighten, and her slow steps. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he says, brushing her hair back, his hand resting at the small of her back. “I’m here now. You won’t get swept up and taken from me.”

She smiles faintly, eyes still on the horizon. “It’s not that.”

He tilts his head, waiting.

“It’s just… I love the ocean.” Her voice is almost reverent. “It’s why I was there that day. I was feeling... a lot. And the ocean usually calms me down.”

Jasper nods, giving her space to continue.

“I was stupid to get in when there was a storm on the horizon,” she admits, her voice soft. “But I don’t regret it. Not even for a second.”

He watches her closely. “Why?”

“Because it brought me to you.”

His face hardens slightly, not in anger, but in fear. “You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t,” she whispers, pressing closer, her arm sliding around his waist.

“You almost did.”

She leans into his chest, tilting her face up, eyes bright adoration that runs far deeper than he ever felt before. “But you saved my life.”

He exhales like he’s trying not to break in half.

She nuzzles into his side, sighing. “I’d have died a thousand times if it meant I’d be standing here with you.”

He pulls her closer, one hand curling protectively around her waist, the other cradling her head like she’s a drop of water in the palm of his hand he’s promised to protect.

“And now you’re here,” he murmurs. “I’m not letting go again.”

And with the ocean behind them and sunlight warming even Jasper’s body, they step toward the water together. It laps at the edges of the natural pool, smooth and clear as polished glass. It’s nestled in a perfect spot, half-shaded by the surrounding rocks, sun dappling through breaks in the cliffside. The foam gathers in frothy halos near the far edge, and tiny salt crystals glitter like stars just beneath the surface.

Jasper helps her step down carefully over the rocks, always a hand at her back or arm to steady her.

“I’m not going to shatter,” she teases as she slides in, gasping at the initial chill. “You don’t have to treat me like fine china.”

“You break easier than fine china,” he murmurs, eyes following the line of her arm submerged beneath the ripples.

She rolls her eyes, then splashes him in the face.

He blinks, water dripping from his lashes. “Was that on purpose?”

“Completely.”

He cocks an eyebrow and before she can escape, his hand darts under the surface, sweeping her legs from under her. She lets out a yelp as she drops under with a splash, then surfaces laughing, pushing her wet hair back.

“You’re a menace,” she gasps between breaths, floating backward.

“And you’re a bad influence,” he replies smoothly, his voice warm and sweet as he swims after her.

They fall into a rhythm of soft strokes, quiet splashes, playful brushes of legs beneath the surface. She tries to dunk him once, fails, and he lets her try again, just so he can catch her waist and hold her up like a weightless thing in his hands.

“You’re lighter than a leaf,” he says as he lifts her up effortlessly, her back arched against the sunlight.

“I’m also a terrible swimmer compared to you. I used to swim competitively, but you’re putting me to shame,” she admits, laughing breathlessly as she clings to him again.

He pulls her in, one hand sliding up her back. He’s warm. For the first time since she’s known him, he’s almost warm. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me here in case you get tired.”

They quiet after that. Her arms loop around his shoulders, legs drifting lazily around his waist. The sun warms the surface of the water, and for a moment, the only sound is her soft breathing against his neck and the hush of the waves beyond the rocks.

“Jasper?” she says, voice low, muffled slightly where her lips press near his jaw.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you save me that day?”

He stills.

Her hands press flat against his back, kissing his jaw lightly. “How did you find me? Worse, what if you didn’t and I died?”

He pulls back just enough to look at her. “If that happened I’d have found you anyway,” he says, steady and sure. “Even if I had to cross every shore, turn over every stone, wait through every century until you’re reincarnated or I found a witch that could bring you back to me. I would’ve found you.” And for Jasper, that’s exactly how it feels. Like maybe she could have been someone from his life as a human, someone he might have lost in the war, someone he’s been waiting for all this time and now she’s here and all he can think about is how to make sure she gets everything she’s ever wanted, safely, and with him.

Her throat tightens.

“And when I did,” he adds, “I’d have yelled at you for being so reckless. And then I’d have kissed you until time stopped.”

She bites her lower lip, eyes shimmering. “You make it really hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“I’m counting on that.”

He dips forward and kisses her, not rushed, not hungry, just adorning. It’s the kind of kiss that says: You’re safe. You’re mine. I’m not going anywhere.

She melts into it, one hand slipping into his hair, the other resting at the base of his neck. When they pull apart, cheeks flushed, her breath caught again in her throat, she leans her forehead to his.

“I could stay here forever,” she whispers.

Jasper smiles. “Then we’ll stay until you’re ready to leave.”

The water clings to her skin as the wind picks up slightly, but Jasper’s hands are what make her tremble. She’s turned with her back against the rock edge of the pool, arms loosely looped around his neck, legs drifting in the water, and he’s standing between them, close, too close now.

Her lips part, just slightly and that’s all the invitation he needs. His mouth captures hers in a kiss that’s deeper this time, slower, but filled with lust he usually keeps at bay. He kisses her like he’s starving for her, but is still afraid to take too much. Like he’s desperate to keep control, but still wants to give her all of him.

She lets herself fall into it, fingers tangling in the soaked curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until her back is pressed fully against the rocks. Jasper’s hands grip the edge of the rock behind her on either side, boxing her in but never pressing too hard, always holding himself back just enough.

Their mouths move in perfect rhythm, wet, soft, then hungrier. When he groans into her mouth, low and guttural, she feels it all the way down to her toes. Her legs wrap around his waist, her body arching into his with a sigh, and his lips trail down to her jaw, then lower, teeth grazing the curve of her throat.

“Jasper…” she breathes, voice breaking on his name.

He presses his forehead to hers, eyes half-lidded, breathless in a way that has nothing to do with air.

“You’re not helping my self-control, sweetheart,” he mutters.

She slides one hand down his chest, slick with water. “We’ve already established that I’m the dangerous one in this relationship.”

He laughs softly, then tilts her chin up and kisses her again, harder this time. The rock behind her is lightly digging into her back. It’s not rough, not painful, but a gentle reminder she’s entirely surrendering herself to Jasper. Every point of contact between them burns, forming heat that contradicts the cool wind blowing around them and Jasper’s cold skin.

Jasper’s hand slides from the edge of the rock to her waist, fingers brushing bare skin as he trails upward, just under the band of her bra. He pauses there, thumb circling the soft flesh just beneath her ribs.

Her breath hitches.

“Tell me when to stop,” he says, voice low and ragged. “Tell me how far I can take this.”

She looks into his eyes, pupils blown wide with hunger, not for blood, but for her. “You’ll wait for an eternity to hear me stop you,” she whispers. “Don’t stop. Ever.”

His restraint is a thread stretched too thin, trembling. He kisses her again, more fiercely now, his body pressed between her thighs, every inch of him molded to her curves, the water rising around them in gentle ripples.

He kisses like he’s memorizing her, like he wants to leave his name etched into every breath she exhales. Her head falls back with a gasp when he leaves open mouthed kisses along her neck, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance, the other sliding down his back beneath the water, pulling him closer. Her thighs tighten around him and his jaw clenches visibly, muscles twitching beneath her hands.

“Y/N,” he groans against her throat, “please don’t test me.”

She laughs, breathless. “I thought you liked when I tested you.”

“Darlin’,” he mutters, “I love you. And I’m not risking hurting you, no matter how good this feels.”

She kisses his temple, her lips soft at his hairline. “Then don’t stop loving me.”

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

Their kisses grow sloppier, more needy than precise, lips clashing as she gasps for breath, her laughter mixing with his low, desperate moans. Y/N’s hands roam shamelessly across his body, tracing the muscles of his back, then his stomach, slipping lower, bolder.

Her fingers dip below his waist, teasing the line of his boxers until her palm brushes against his bulge, feather-light, testing the boundary they both know exists.

Jasper’s kisses stop immediately, his hand flies to her wrist, fingers firm but not unkind as he pulls it away. Last thing he wants is anymore bruising caused by his brutish lack of thinking.

“Darlin’,” he warns, but his voice is shaky.

She leans in, her nose brushing his cheek as she grins against his jaw. “Do you honestly think my hand brushing your dick would end oh so badly?”

His eyes flutter closed. He sighs, pained. “Yes.”

She pouts, eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

And then, without giving him a chance to retreat, her free hand moves up her back, fingers unclasping the hook of her bra with a practiced flick. The fabric falls into the water between them. Jasper’s eyes snap open just as her bare chest presses lightly against his, her nipples hard against his skin.

Golden eyes turn to black instantly, not out of hunger, but from an overwhelming want. Lust. Every suppressed ache, every second he’s held back, it’s all rushing forth now.

“Y/N,” he grumbles, dragging his gaze upward, trying, failing, to keep his eyes on hers. He starts to pull away, chest heaving, hands gripping her hips too tightly to be casual, but she cups his face with both hands, firm and calm.

“Breathe with me,” she says softly, eyes locked on his.

He resists for half a second, trembling with restraint, but her voice is a lifeline. Her skin is warm, her heartbeat strong against his chest.

“Just breathe,” she repeats. “Nothing else. Just you and me.”

She holds her body close but steady, safe, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones as she anchors him. Y/N’s his compass in the darkness surrounding his thoughts, guiding him through dangerous waters all the way back home.

“Listen to my heart. Feel my skin. Hear my voice.”

She doesn’t rush. She waits. And slowly, inch by inch, he does it. He breathes with her, mimicking the rise and fall of her chest, grounding himself in the rhythm of her body. The trembling in his shoulders eases. His grip on her hips softens.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re golden once more, pupils still dilated, still wide with desire, but in control. Fully in control.

And in that moment, his gaze devours her. Not with violence. Not with hunger. With admiration and longing, with aching and insatiable awe.

“God help me,” he whispers, palms rising to her waist. “You are... breathtaking.”

Her smile returns, small and radiant, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling as she leans in to rest her forehead against his.

“I trust you,” she says, barely louder than a breath.

And he leans in again, kissing her like a man who knows he’s holding the sun in his hands and has vowed to never let it go even if it burns him to death.

Y/N takes Jasper’s hand gently, her fingers threading through his until their palms meet. Her gaze doesn’t leave his as she slowly lifts his hand, guiding it upward until it rests over her breast, bare and warm beneath his icy touch.

She leans into him, her lips parting at the contrast and the way his thumb brushes along her skin, like he’s afraid the moment isn’t real. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes flickering between her face and where his hand now rests, wide-eyed and breathless, like she’s rewritten the laws of what’s allowed between heaven and earth.

She tips her head back slightly, exposing her throat, not to tempt him, but to trust him. To invite him closer. Jasper moves as if drawn by gravity. His lips press first to her jaw, soft and slow, then trail down to the delicate curve of her throat. Each kiss is a promise, lingering just long enough to make her pulse quicken. His mouth is gentle, worshipful, brushing along her collarbone, over the swell of her chest.

She gasps softly when his lips replace his hand, pressing a kiss her nipple, no urgency, no rushing. Just him, learning her with his mouth, memorizing her sighs like scripture. Her fingers tangle in his wet hair, eyes fluttering shut as her back arches slightly, overwhelmed by the way he holds her so carefully, like she’s the only thing he needs to stay.

“Jasper,” she whispers, her voice cracking with need and tenderness.

The sound of his name spoken like that, pleading for more, breaks whatever fragile line was holding him still. Her hips shift, seeking him, grinding against the hardness pressing between her thighs.

A groan leaves him, deep and strained, his hands bracing her tighter, like he’s seconds from losing himself entirely. But he doesn’t. Instead, he holds her there in the water, lips against her breasts, arms cradling her like she’s both the flame and the cure for every burn.

Her head falls forward to rest against his curls, and for a long, quiet moment, they simply exist in each other, trembling from desire, the ocean murmuring just beyond their world.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” she whispers, brushing her nose against his cheek.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” he replies, voice hoarse, aching.

She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, golden and glassy now devouring her not with hunger, but devotion.

And when he kisses her again, it's softer. Slower.

Y/N clings to Jasper like he’s the only thing tethering her to the earth, her arms looped around his neck, her body gently, unintentionally, rocking against his. The motion isn’t deliberate at first. It’s instinct, need, the natural momentum of closeness. But once it starts, she can’t bring herself to stop.

The slow friction builds, making her breaths shorter, her grip tighter. Jasper’s jaw tightens, but a moan escapes him; deep, guttural, torn from a place where his control is no longer a concern. His hands lock around her hips, holding her still, but his restraint is fraying and he’s lost the will to fight any longer.

And when her hips roll against him again, he’s entirely gone. He pushes her back against the rocks, his body pressing into hers with unrestrained urgency. One hand slips beneath the water, until it slides along her inner thigh, diving under the edge of her underwear. His fingers brush her clit, just barely and she gasps.

Her head falls back against the rock, mouth open, skin flushed, hair fanned out in dark waves. It’s heaven. It’s madness. Just one touch and she’s shaking in his arms, hoping he understands her body’s plea for more.

“Jasper -”

He watches her like he’s been starved for centuries and finally allowed a taste of something only he can give her. And then as his fingers begin exploring, she speaks, voice barely above a whisper, trembling.

“I can’t wait to do this with you all the time when I turn.”

Silence.

Everything stills.

His touch vanishes.

She blinks, dazed, confused, until he pulls away, eyes wide, face pale beneath the sun’s glow.

“When you what?” His voice is quiet but sharp, full of disbelief and fear.

Y/N blinks, chest heaving, the words still stuck in her throat. “When I turn. I mean… I thought -”

Jasper is already standing straighter, putting distance between them as the moment crumbles.

“You’re planning to turn?” he asks, every word measured now. Like he’s afraid of them. Like he’s afraid of her answer.

She hugs her arms around herself, heart thudding in her chest, confusion mixing with shame. “I just thought… if I’m going to be with you…really be with you then I’d need to.”

His jaw clenches. His fists curl.

“Y/N,” he says, almost broken, “you think becoming this is the only way to be mine?”

“I thought it was what we both wanted.”

His eyes meet hers, and the storm there threatens to unravel everything.

“You don’t know what you’re giving up,” he says, voice lower now, trembling. “You can’t know.”

She stares at him, wet, bare in every sense of the word and realizes she might’ve just crossed a line she didn’t know existed. And now the only thing heavier than the tension between them… is the silence. The silence between them is thick like smoke after a fire, something you can’t breathe through, only choke on.

Y/N moves first. Her hands shake as she finds her bra floating near the edge of the pool. She snatches it with trembling fingers and hooks it back into place without looking at him, cheeks burning, heart pounding in her chest.

Jasper’s still standing waist-deep in the water, motionless, his hands curled into fists at his sides like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching for her and shaking her until she starts making sense again.

“Say something,” she snaps finally, her voice cracking.

“I said what I wanted to say,” he replies, voice low, tight. “You just didn’t like what you heard.”

She glares at him, arms folding over her chest now that she’s covered, now that she feels like she needs to be. “You think I haven’t thought this through?”

“You’re in your twenties, Y/N,” he says sharply. “You’ve barely lived.”

“And you think staying human means I’ll get more out of life?” she fires back. “You think I’ll be betteroff growing old while you stay the same? That I’ll be happier knowing you’ll never touch me like I want you to without holding back?”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re giving up,” he says again, louder this time. “Sunlight. Sleep. Real food. The sound of your own heartbeat. That laugh you make when you get tipsy after one glass of wine. All of that goes away.”

“And you think I care about wine and sleep more than you?” she shoots back, stepping toward him now, voice shaking with anger. “God, Jasper, you think so little of me?”

His eyes flash. “No. I think the world of you. That’s why I want you to stay human. To live.”

“Bullshit,” she hisses. “You want me human because you’re not sure you actually want me forever.”

He flinches like she slapped him. The words hang there between them like something jagged. She regrets them. Instantly. But she doesn’t take them back.

“Don’t twist this,” he says, his voice now hollow and shaking. “Don’t turn this into me being selfish.”

“You are,” she says quietly. “You’ve already made up your mind about what I should be. What I should want.”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” she shouts, eyes wet now, chest heaving. “You think just because you hate what you are, I’m supposed to hate it too? I don’t. I love you. All of you. And you’ve spent this whole time acting like you don’t believe I can handle it.”

Jasper runs a hand through his hair, water dripping from his fingers, shaking like a man coming undone. “Because I don’t want you to have to. I would rather you live a mortal life and have friends, a family, joy, grief, time, real time.”

“And what about us?” she asks, voice barely more than a whisper. “What happens when I age and you don’t? What happens when people start to notice? When you can’t touch me without hurting me? When I’m fifty, and you still look like this? Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not,” he growls, turning on her. “Because there’s no version of that where I win.”

She goes quiet. They stand there, both breathless, the water no longer warm as the sun disappears behind cliffs. Everything around them feels cold now, sharp. Too real.

“I thought we were finally on the same page,” she whispers, not trusting her voice to hold steady. “I thought you wanted forever too.”

Jasper’s face contorts. “I do. I want you forever. But not if forever costs you everything that makes you you.”

She turns from him, arms wrapping tight around herself. “Then maybe you don’t know who I really am.”

The words echo. They don't shout anymore. They’re too tired for that. They remain in the quiet, the sun is almost gone now, shadows stretching along the rocks and soft ripples of the pool. The earlier heat has faded, cold wrapping itself around her once again.

Jasper is the first to speak.

“I…” His voice cracks. “Don’t you want kids?”

Y/N turns to him slowly, her brow lifting with a pointed look. “It’s not like it’s impossible for us,” she reminds him. “Renesmee is living proof.”

“Renesmee is a result of dumb luck and a vampire miracle,” Jasper counters, running a hand through his damp curls. “One that nearly killed Bella in the process and almost started a fucking war. That’s not a model I want to repeat.”

Her arms cross over her chest. “So if I stay human, would you really stay with me?”

“Of course I -”

“Would you ever actually have sex with me,” she interrupts, “knowing we could conceive?”

He flinches, caught. “I would… if that would make you happy. I’d just… pull out on time.”

She throws her head back with a sharp, humorless laugh. “That’s not a plan, Jasper. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Let’s say it works and I don’t get pregnant like Bella did. I’d still be without children you want me to have,” she continues, her voice rising, breaking. “Don’t you see? I want you. Us. A forever in your arms. I don’t…” She swallows hard, blinking quickly. “I can let go of the idea of children, but I can’t let go of us.”

Her voice trembles, her hands clenching at her sides. “Jasper, I just want you,” she whispers. “Fuck, you barely touched me and I nearly had an orgasm. I’m desperately addicted to you, and I don’t want to pretend otherwise. Stop pushing me away and accept that already.”

He stares at her, unmoving, his expression unreadable like she’s a puzzle he can’t seem to solve. Like he’s afraid if he breathes wrong, she’ll vanish.

Finally, his voice is barely audible. “And if you were to turn… when would that happen?”

She exhales, slow and shaking. “As soon as I experience the human things with you,” she says softly. Then, gently, trying to ease the tension between them, she jokes, “We nearly experienced some of it just now.”

He swallows thickly. “Y/N… are you saying you’d want me to turn you after we make love?”

She smiles. Not teasing. Not flirty. Just quiet and true. “I like that you say it like that. Make love. It’s the first time anyone’s called it that with me.”

He steps closer, carefully, until his arms rest on her bare shoulders. His touch is light, but firm. “That’s not an answer.”

Her eyes search his. “Yes, okay? I want to make love to you. I want to marry you. I just… I want you to be the one to do it.”

Jasper immediately shakes his head, horrified. “Carlisle has better control. He -”

She cups his cheek gently, stopping the spiral before it starts. “And yet I only trust you. To be honest, I’d love it if you’d do it… when we’re alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to see or hear me writhing in pain when it begins.”

His eyes widen slightly, something terrified flickering in them. “You already know it’s painful… Who told you? Emmett? Cause I’ll -”

“Bella told me,” she says quickly. “Because I asked. I needed to know. I know it hurts. I don’tcare.”

“Darlin’…” he breathes, pained. “Why can’t we wait a few more years, at least?”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then she speaks again, determined more than ever before.

“Because I might not have a few more years.”

Jasper freezes completely, his hands dropping slowly from her shoulders.

Her voice is calm, but every word bleeds like an old wound reopening. “My mother and grandmother both died from cancer. The same type. It’s genetic, and I’ve already tested positive for the mutation.”

He stares, silent, stunned. Is this what Alice meant? She told him Y/N would die even if he left her. She said it was inevitable, that death would collect her either way. How could he have forgotten that? She’ll never get to grow old, no matter what he does. She’ll either die or she’ll be his wife.

Fuck.

He never understood Rosalie’s desire to be human. Not until now. He wishes he could be human. And he wishes Y/N wasn’t dealt a shitty card at life. If they were human, healthy, he’d have already gotten on one knee and proposed. They’d already be rolling around their bed, making love and babies. He’d have a chance to keep her as she is now.

“My mom died within six months of her diagnosis,” she continues. “And that was with surgery, radiation and chemo. To this day, I’m not sure if it was the cancer or the treatments that killed her. My grandmother fought it off once when she was young… but when it came back, it took her in under a year.”

Jasper’s hands are shaking now. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.

“They both got it in their early thirties,” she says softly. “And I’m already close to thirty. I don’t want to wait around hoping I beat the odds.”

Her voice falters, but she doesn’t cry. She stands tall, raw and brave. “They died writhing in pain. Not even morphine helped. I’d rather cut my loses and take my chances with you. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if there’s a risk. Because the alternative?” She shakes her head. “It’s slow. It’s painful. And it ends with me begging for more time. Time I could already have, a forever in your arms. Which is coincidentally something I’d choose, regardless of the cancer threat looming over my head.”

Jasper looks wrecked. He closes his eyes, like he’s praying, but his hands reach for hers again. And this time… he doesn’t let go.

“I just want you,” she reassures him. “Please, don’t fight me on this.”

The wind’s turned colder, brushing against Y/N’s damp skin as Jasper carries her in his arms, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her eyes barely open. She’s quiet, dazed from the run, the crash of adrenaline, and the storm of emotion they’ve both weathered.

Her limbs feel heavy, her heart like it's resting after a marathon. She doesn't even joke about being carried again. She just… holds on.

The door creaks softly behind them. The world inside is warm.

She murmurs something unintelligible, and Jasper kisses the top of her head. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Instead of laying her on the couch or bed, he carries her straight to the bathroom. The tiles are cool beneath her feet. He sets her down gently, but she sways, unsteady.

“Too tired,” she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” His voice is quieter still.

Without asking, he reaches into the shower, turning on the warm water, adjusting the temperature with careful flicks of his wrist. Then he walks back to her, hands gentle as they guide her into the tub. He leaves her in her underwear, deciding to take zero risks.

The water hits her in soft waves, washing away the salt and sand and ocean from her skin, from her hair. But her fingers don’t let go of him. She doesn’t tease. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t speak. She just stands there in the shower, arms around his waist, her forehead pressed into his chest. Breathing him in. Letting herself be held.

He stays in the shower with her fully clothed, not caring about soaked clothes. His hands move slowly, brushing her hair back, rubbing her back in soft, slow circles as the water trickles over both of them.

They stay like that until her shoulders stop trembling.

Afterward, he wraps her in a thick towel, hands slow, warm even through his cold skin. He helps her sit, then disappears briefly, returning with fresh clothes folded neatly in his arms.

He leaves her to dress, quietly stepping out. When she pads into the living room ten minutes later, fingers shaking the ends of her damp hair, she stops in the doorway and melts.

Jasper is already changed, gray sweatpants, a soft black T-shirt hugging his body, his curls still slightly damp but pushed back. He looks… relaxed. Like he belongs there.

There’s a steaming plate of pasta on the coffee table. Her favorite kind, with too much cheese and the perfect amount of garlic. Next to it, a glass of wine from a fresh bottle of the same kind he bought for her before. And on the TV screen, he paused at the opening of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

She steps forward, barefoot, quiet.

He looks up, offering her a crooked smile. “I figured you’d want comfort food. And comfort magic.”

Her throat tightens. “It’s my favorite one,” she murmurs.

“And I can’t wait to watch it with you,” he says softly, picking up the remote. “I remembered we watched the first two, and I promised you I’d watch them all, so here we are.”

She sits next to him, curling into his side and for the first time since they came home, she lets herself breathe. Jasper wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her damp hair.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she whispers.

“I wanted to.”

She looks up at him, eyes heavy but filled with something warm and tender. “I love you.”

He leans down and brushes his lips over hers. “I love you too, Darlin’. Always.”

The pasta is warm. The wine is sweet. And when she presses play, his arm stays firm around her, like he means to never let her go again.

The TV hums softly, the credits rolling as the final notes of the movie fade into the quiet of the room. The wineglass is nearly empty. Her plate sits forgotten on the coffee table, only a bite or two of pasta left untouched.

Y/N is nestled into Jasper’s side, her head tucked beneath his chin, one arm looped around his waist. The other clutches the edge of his shirt, loose but unwilling to let go. Her breathing is slower now, shallower, but not fully asleep.

Jasper hasn’t moved in nearly an hour. He couldn’t, even if he tried. She’s warm and soft against him, her heartbeat a lullaby he could fall into for eternity.

He presses a kiss to her hair, thinking it’ll go unnoticed. It doesn’t.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in my scalp,” she murmurs, voice sleepy.

He huffs a soft laugh. “That’s the plan.”

She shifts just slightly, head still against his chest, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“I used to dream about you.”

He furrows his brows. “What?”

She smiles, her eyes still closed. “Not you, exactly. I mean… I didn’t know it was you until I met you. But for years, ever since I left Forks a while back, I’d see this man in my dreams. Golden hair. Gold eyes.”

Jasper goes still, body rigid beneath her.

“They were weirdly comforting, in a way,” she continues, unaware of the cold that’s crept up his spine. “The dreams. They felt like déjà vu… Like I was supposed to know this man. Like he was waiting for me to catch up to him.”

Jasper’s eyes darken, not with lust, but with fear of being discovered. He remembers that night in the alley and the way he let her run only to grab her, drag her into the woods. The night he stood in the shadows, inches from her skin, from her blood. The first time he saw her and came so close to sinking his teeth in.

She was terrified of him then, Edward said she referred to him as death in his mind.

He hadn’t wanted to risk her remembering the hunger on his face. The desire. The shame.

So Edward had wiped it clean, replaced her last memory of Forks with one that she could believe was true and still, her dreams had remembered him anyway.

“You were always just… there,” Y/N murmurs. “I used to think I made him up. That I was trying to imagine what I was always searching for. That maybe I was lonely…Or losing my mind.”

Jasper swallows hard. He wraps his arms around her more tightly, like he can shield her from the very past he buried.

“But after I met you,” she adds, smiling softly against his chest, “they stopped. Like I’d finally found what I was looking for. Like the dreams didn’t need to remind me anymore.”

She tilts her head up slightly, her eyes fluttering open, still hazy from sleep. “You know that Taylor Swift lyric? ‘Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?’?”

Jasper tries to smile, though his mind is screaming. What if she remembers? How will he ever explain it to her?

“I think you are my invisible string,” she whispers.

His heart; unbeating, undead, untouchable aches.

“It’s a sweet thing,” she says, yawning now. “Like… fate.”

He brushes her hair from her face, voice quiet. “Yeah… sweet.”

But in his mind, the memory still plays, the hunger in his throat, the guilt, the fear, the choice he made to erase her memory and to hide it from her. And now she’s here, wrapped in his arms, confessing a dream that should’ve never survived the lie he helped create.

He presses another kiss to her temple. “Go to sleep, Darlin’,” he whispers, voice gentle, cracking at the edges. “I’m right here.”

And he holds her long into the night, long after she’s drifted into peaceful dreams, still praying she never remembers what the first one really was.

The sun filters pale through the dense trees surrounding the Cullen estate, spilling across the hardwood floors, the silence of the house broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves beyond the windows and the creak of Jasper’s boots on the stairs.

He couldn’t relax all night and once she was awake he couldn’t get out of that house quick enough. She’d curled into him all night, fingers tangled in his shirt like she feared he might slip away if she let go. And still, guilt had wrapped itself around his throat tighter than any embrace.

He finds them in the study; Edward perched in the bay window, gaze distant but already aware Jasper was coming. Alice is sitting cross-legged in the chair by the bookshelf, waiting. She looks up, and the first thing he sees in her face is worry.

“I need to tell her,” Jasper says, getting straight to it. His voice is raw from a night of silence.

Edward doesn’t look surprised. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Jasper nods, jaw tight.

Alice rises to her feet in one fluid motion, arms folding. “She deserves to know.”

“She’s been dreaming of me for years,” Jasper says, pacing, running a hand through his hair. “She described me exactly. The golden eyes. The hair. She remembered me despite your little memory trick. That shouldn’t be possible. She shouldn’t remember.”

“She doesn’t,” Edward says carefully. “Not consciously. Her dreams are fragmented memories. They cling to emotion more than detail.”

“She thinks it’s fate,” Jasper murmurs, voice cracking. “She called me her invisible string. That we were meant to meet and fall in love and it all worked out just right.”

There’s a long pause.

Alice steps forward. “Then tell her. Let her decide what that means. She’s not fragile, Jasper. You know that better than anyone.”

“She’ll think I manipulated her,” he breathes. “That I let Edward erase her thoughts to protect myself.”

“Didn’t you?” Edward says, finally turning his head.

Jasper glares at him. “I was trying not to kill her and save her from myself.”

“And you didn’t,” Alice reminds him. “You stopped. You chose mercy and found a way to give you both time until you could handle it.”

“It’s not mercy when you erase someone’s memory without asking.”

“You were scared,” Alice says, stepping closer, voice gentler now. “Terrified of hurting her. That doesn’t make you cruel.”

Jasper looks down, clenching his jaw. “She said she wants me to be the one to turn her. That she trusts me more than Carlisle. If she knew how close I came to drinking her dry that night, how good her blood smells to me, she’d never say those words again.”

Edward stands, crossing the room with measured steps. “Don’t tell her.”

Jasper’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Not yet. She’s in love with you, Jasper. Let her have this time with you without it being shadowed by something you can’t undo. No one will tell her, we won’t jeopardize your relationship.”

Alice shakes her head. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s necessary,” Edward counters. “You think it’s hard now? Wait until you see the look in her eyes when you tell her you broke her ribs before, almost bit her, then wiped it clean. Your relationship might survive it, but not unchanged.”

“I’d rather she hate me with the truth,” Jasper says, “than love me in a lie.”

Edward doesn’t argue. But he doesn’t agree either.

Then, suddenly, Alice goes still. Her body tightens, her gaze distant, pupils dilating as if she’s staring into something no one else can see, but Edward can see it too.

Jasper moves to her side in an instant. “Alice?”

Her eyes flutter rapidly. Her voice is soft, strained. “They’re coming.”

Jasper asks, “Who?”

“Alec. And Demetri.” Her voice trembles slightly. “The Volturi.”

Jasper stiffens. “What? Why?”

Her eyes are far away still, lips parting. “They both tasted golden blood before. Not just once. Enough to remember it. To crave it. They’ll recognize her scent from miles away.”

Edward curses under his breath, his jaw hardening. “I’ll tell Carlisle.”

Jasper feels the world narrow to one blinding point. Y/N. He told her about it, but she doesn’t actually understand yet how rare she is and how dangerously irresistible her blood could be to someone who’s already tasted it.

Jasper’s fists clench. “She’s not ready,” he says. “I’m not ready to turn her yet.”

But they all know the truth. Time is running out.

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

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